Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE –

Much Worse than Nasty

Not for nothing were they called Nastily Exhausting. Harry had thought the OWLs were bad, but they had been a summer holiday compared to this. The Monday after the fifth Horcrux had been destroyed, the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examination schedules had been posted on the noticeboards in each of the dormitory common rooms. Harry and Ron were fortunate that they were only doing six subjects each; while their workload was well and truly loaded, it was nothing compared to Hermione's, not that it didn't stop her still finding time to organise a study schedule for each of them.

Alongside the exam timetable, there was also a list for seventh year interviews. Hermione explained that it was a chance for the top wizarding employers across Britain to check out what might be knocking on their doors over the summer, but when Harry walked in and discovered Umbridge running the Auror interviews, he promptly walked straight back out.

Things didn't improve when the exams began. At the end of the third day, two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff were admitted to the hospital wing suffering from 'apprehensive anxiety'. By morning, one of the Ravenclaws had been transferred to St Mungo's. Extreme alarm bordering on pure panic spread through the seventh-years at news of this development. Ravenclaw students were widely acknowledged as the brightest in the entire school (with the exception of Hermione), so exams like the NEWTs should seem quite simple for them. If one of them was so seriously worried about their ability to succeed that they ended up requiring the attention of professional Healers, there was no hope for any of them.

'They named these exams wrong,' groaned Ron as he sank onto the seat next to Harry and wearily reached for a plate of chicken casserole. 'They're worse than nasty.'

Hermione promptly launched into a post mortem of the first part of the Transfiguration exam they had just completed but Harry just gave non-committal grunts. He had decided he wouldn't let anyone realise just how much he had improved (Ron would scorn his friend joining the 'nerds' and Hermione would take it as an invitation to pile more work on him) so, as Ron let his nerves get the better of him and told Hermione off for making him think of the second half they were going to be doing that afternoon, Harry allowed himself to relax a little. He was pretty sure he had just gotten a hundred percent on the written exam – thanks entirely to Professor Capsworth and Dumbledore's tuition – and he felt confident he would be able to do them proud on the practical.

He had to do them proud. Even though there was still a chance he wouldn't survive his final confrontation with Voldemort (and even though Umbridge seemed to have a say in who was accepted into the Auror program), Harry was determined to think positively and plan for the future. A future where Voldemort was defeated and the Aurors were left with the task of tracking down and bringing his followers to justice.

Of all the professions on offer in this secret world, being an Auror was still the one which appealed to Harry the most. That was the only reason he had worked so hard these past months. If it hadn't been for the fact that he needed straight O's on his NEWTs, he would have withdrawn from school months ago and concentrated all of his efforts on fulfilling his 'destiny'. Even if he didn't make it past the end of the summer, being capable of achieving Outstandings at NEWT level had been excellent preparation for what he had yet to encounter.

Pushing his empty plate away, Harry glanced along the table and noticed Neville sitting alone at the far end, pouring over the set of books he had borrowed from Harry. Even though he had dropped Transfigurations at the start of sixth year, sparing him from doing an exam today, Neville still had Defence Against the Dark Arts tomorrow before the (supposed) break of the weekend.

Harry allowed himself a secret grin. He had promised to go over the exam paper with Neville tomorrow night to give him a rough idea of how he had gone but, if he performed like he had been in his private classes, he had it in the bag. He just had to make sure he didn't let his nerves get the better of him. And speaking of nerves …

Harry's heart started to beat a familiar tattoo as he joined the line of students heading over to the room behind the teachers' table to wait for the fifth-years to finish their Transfigurations practical exam so the seventh-years could then take their turn. He grabbed it with both hands, revelling in the rush of sharpness it gave him, confident that, no matter what the examiners threw at him, he would be equal to the task.

Nine minutes after Hermione had been called to take her turn, there was a loud bang and several startled cries, then the door to the Great Hall flew open. A sparrow with very frizzy feathers soared into the room and landed on Ron's head. It looked familiar.

'Get off!' he cried and tried to swat it away, but suddenly found himself face to face with Hermione, his hand caught in a tight grip, just as the examiners rushed to the door.

'Careful, Ron,' Hermione said. 'You could take someone's eye out.'

Ron didn't say anything or try to make her let go of his hand; he just stood there, staring at her stupidly.

Harry could sympathise. He was feeling pretty shocked himself. When did Hermione become an Animagus?

The examiners were likewise astounded.

'Never … in all my years of …'

'Where did you learn to do that?' blustered the second. 'Surely Patricia didn't teach …'

Only Professor Tofty didn't seem shocked, merely taken by surprise. And that was rapidly changing to amusement.

'Oh, that brings back memories,' he chuckled. 'I remember many years ago … it wouldn't be polite to say just how many … another young Gryffindor lady caused a similar sensation during her N.E.W.T examination when she demonstrated her mastery of the Animagus transfiguration. A cat, wasn't it, Minerva?'

He glanced over his shoulder. McGonagall was standing in the doorway leading from the Great Hall out the to Entrance Hall, an odd expression on her face: a mixture of pride in her own ability and embarrassment that NEWT students now knew she had been a rebel in her youth.

'But is it legal?' a plump little witch named Professor Blankman wanted to know.

'Of course it's legal.' McGonagall seemed determined to make sure they all knew that, even if she had been unconventional, she had certainly not been a law-breaker, 'providing Miss Granger registers with the Ministry of Magic as soon as the school year is completed. You shall need to contact Meredith Westmore at the Improper Use of Magic Office. Tell her I said miaow.' Her normally stern lips twitched in a movement extremely reminiscent of Professor Dumbledore. 'Stop being such a worrywart, Fairweather. You don't honestly believe Animagi don't become so until they front up to Meredith's office, do you? Of course we need to get in some practice first.' She glanced at Hermione. 'How long have you been working at it, Granger?'

'A few weeks,' Hermione said quite coolly, though her face reddened slightly.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed suspiciously. She didn't, however say anything more on the subject but simply nodded at the examiners, indicating the fuss was ended and they should all get back to their exams.

As soon as he completed his own prac, Harry went in search of Hermione. He hadn't had any trouble Transfiguring a reed flute into a nightingale, a pair of oysters into castanets and then earmuffs, or a rocking chair into an animated statue of a small girl. The chair's cushion had a scene embroidered on it depicting an eighteenth century couple and Harry had managed to dress the girl in the gown worn by the young woman. Theodore Nott of Slytherin, on the other hand, had made his statue without any clothes and the poor girl had spent ten minutes running around the Great Hall, screaming like a banshee, before Nott managed to hit her, blasting her into tiny pieces and covering everybody with stone chips and dust. While Harry couldn't say, definitely, that he had gotten Outstanding on his exam, he was pretty sure, judging by the furious looks on the examiners' faces as they cleaned up, that Nott had just gotten a 'T'.

Harry found Hermione in the library.

'What are you studying for; you know that stuff backwards?'

'I don't know it as well as you do.' Hermione earned a stern glare from Madam Pince for disturbing the silence of her precious library.

'I don't know why she's mad at me,' whispered Hermione as she glowered back. 'I'm not causing as much of a disturbance as that lot.' She nodded towards a gaggle of sixth-year girls who were goggling and gossiping amongst themselves about Hermione's efforts with her Transfiguration exam. 'Honestly, you'd think I did something wrong, the way everybody's going on about it.'

'Well,' Harry sat himself down opposite her, 'you have to admit it was pretty unconventional, especially for you. You've always stuck to the letter of the law.'

'I didn't break the law,' Hermione pouted. 'Or didn't you hear what McGonagall said.'

'I heard her.' Harry checked that Hermione's fan club were out of earshot as he lowered his voice. 'I also heard you tell McGonagall you've only been doing it for a couple of weeks.'

Hermione tried to stare him down but the red face was something of a giveaway.

'Oh, OK; that was me last summer. How did you know?'

'I didn't.'

'But –' Hermione gaped at Harry. 'You called me by name.' Initial disbelief gave way to self-fury that she had allowed Harry to bluff her. 'You called me by name!'

'The frizzy feathers reminded me of you.' shrugged Harry, inwardly marvelling that he had managed to get one over on her.

Even though they couldn't hear the intercourse between the two friends, the gaggle seemed to find Hermione's reaction to what Harry said amusing, erupting into further giggles.

'Oh, this is ridiculous.' Hermione slammed her book shut; Madam Pince descended upon them. 'OK, OK; we're going!' she huffed irritably. 'Just keep that lot here until long after we leave.'

Harry stared at Hermione, feeling as stunned as the expression on Madam Pince's face that she was bossing a member of staff around.

'And if I catch any of you following us,' she jumped down the throats of the gigglers, 'I'll take points off!'

'So why a sparrow?' Harry still couldn't believe that his very straight-laced friend would do something so out of the ordinary.

'It's an unnoticeable creature.' Hermione was still looking fairly pleased with herself.

'But why an Animagi at all?'

'Oh, I just like to keep an eye on things. What?' She glared at Harry's stunned expression. 'I don't use it to cause trouble. I just like to watch what people are up to with their lives. I thought I might write up a report for the Ministry about Muggle families like your aunt and uncle; you know, ones who aren't too thrilled to have a connection to our world, and the impact that has on the lives of the wizarding people in their families. Might help other kids in the future if the Ministry has a better understanding of potential problems before they become too much of a problem and give them a chance to intervene sooner rather than later.'

The rest of the evening was spent squirreled away in Harry's bedroom, going over Defence practice exams and joking about the high jinx earlier (though Harry and Hermione didn't mention last summer to Ron).

Breakfast next morning was the usual mix of jagged nerves and lost appetites before the Great Hall filled with rows of single desks ready for the written half of the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam.

'You may begin …' (a small bell tinkled) 'now.'

Harry turned over his exam paper and quickly scanned down the list of questions, none of which presented any real problems. Except for …

Harry stared at question eight.

a) Describe the details of the prophecy which dictates who has been chosen to destroy He Who Must Not Be Named and b) explain what the Chosen One needs to do to fulfil that destiny.

What were the examiners playing at, setting a question like that? The Wizarding Examinations Authority was an independent body … wasn't it … but that question sounded like Scrimgeour himself had written it.

Harry could feel every head turning towards him as a collective gasp echoed through the Hall but, probably due to the deafness she had displayed two years before, Professor Marchbanks didn't seem to notice.

Glancing at his watch, Harry realised he had wasted five minutes already. Bowing his head over the paper, he pushed question eight to the back of his mind (he would tackle it last), and started the rest of the exam.

Naturally, there were no prizes for guessing the main topic of conversation over a very hasty lunch.

'What was question eight everybody's talking about?' asked Ginny as they collapsed onto seats in the newly restored dining hall.

Harry filled her in as he watched Ron gobble down a large plateful of steak and kidney pie; he knew he probably should eat something but his appetite had abandoned him again and it had nothing to do with exam nerves.

'What did you put?'

'Nothing, of course.' Harry scowled. 'They've got no right to know what's going on with me and Voldemort.'

'Then why don't you sound very happy about it?' Ginny piled food on a plate and pushed it across to Harry. He ignored it.

'Because, I bet you anything, the Ministry will insist on a hundred percent for Defence to be able to get into the Auror program and, since I missed a question, there's no way I'm going to get full marks.'

'You don't need to worry, Harry.' Hermione helped herself to his plate. 'The information which that question was trying to milk out of us is classified so –'

'Huh?' Ron looked from his pie.

'The details of prophecies held by the Department of Mysteries can't be divulged to anybody other than the people the prophecies are about,' Hermione explained. 'That's how Bode ended up in St Mungo's.'

'But Harry told –'

'That's because he chose to. If he doesn't want anyone else to know, then they legally can't force him to tell.'

'But the prophecy broke –'

'Only the record of it,' said Hermione in a patient tone. 'The prophecy itself still exists because it still hasn't been fulfilled yet.

'But it was just about Harry being born and being the one who –'

'The last part hasn't happened yet,' Harry said softly.

'What, you mean – oh.' Ron turned red.

'I still don't understand how all this is going to stop me not getting a hundred.' Harry took advantage of Ron's silence.

'I told you, according to the law, they can't force you to tell. That whole question shouldn't have been in the exam in the first place. So, unless they want to face a massive class action under Fat Cheat's Law, they have to take out question eight and mark the rest of the paper out of one hundred.'

'What's Fat Cheat's Law?' asked Ginny.

'It's really Fatchett's Law but Fat Cheat is more appropriate,' said Hermione smugly. 'Years ago, a Slytherin called Fatchett did terribly on his OWLs but didn't want to repeat, so his father brought the exam board before the Wizengamot who ruled that, not only did they have to give this kid Outstanding for all of his subjects instead of the straight Trolls he'd scored, but the examiners also had to pay the Fatchetts one hundred galleons for every mark which had to be added to bring his grades up to Outstanding. So, unless our examiners want the entire Transfigurations class bankrupting them, they'll take that question out.'

'You mean I won't get any marks for it?' Ron was staring at Hermione with a horrified expression on his face.

A cold lump froze in the pit of Harry's stomach. 'You answered it?' he asked in a toneless voice.

'Yeah. It was about the only one I definitely knew the answer to.'

Hermione blinked back tears. 'Ron, how could you?'

'What?' Ron gazed at them incredulously. 'What's wrong with me telling that bunch of gargoyles to stick that question up their –'

'Oh, Ron!' Hermione threw a napkin in his face, furious that he had managed to trick them.

Harry's lump didn't get much of a chance to thaw, though, because students were starting to drift over to the waiting room ready for the Defence prac.

'… Granger, Longbottom, MacDougal.'

Neville threw Harry a nervous glance as he trooped after Hermione.

'You'll be fine,' Harry mouthed at him. Neville perked up enough to give him a shaky grin, then Fulstrum closed the door.

'Stop pacing, Harry; you're making me really nervous.' Ron was getting paler by the minute. 'Anyway, what are you worried for? You'll do brilliantly.'

'Nott, Perks, Potter.'

There was something about Fulstrum's smile as he called him forward which Harry didn't like. But he didn't really have a chance to reflect on it as his jaw dropped.

Before him lay a thick forest, cold mist slowly creeping across the floor towards him. He glanced uncertainly at Professor Tofty.

'I am unarmed, defenseless and in your charge. Your task is to safely transport me to the crystal isle where you shall be given further instructions. Ready?' The old examiner smiled as if Harry was about to give him a real treat.

Harry squinted towards the forest, trying to peer through the dense foliage. Was the exam going to be a cross between Lupin's obstacle course and the third Triwizard task? If so, this was going to be pretty simple. Gripping his wand firmly, he nodded. Tofty's smile broadened.

'Then let's begin.'

Harry was partly right; the first part of the exam was exactly like Lupin's third-year test; it even had Kappas and Red Caps. Then it started to get much darker. Leaving the realm of straightforward simplicity, they entered territory with chilling similarity to the graveyard at Little Hangleton.

'Move!' Harry urged Tofty as he sent his Patronus chasing after yet another Dementor. Why did Professor Tofty have to be defenseless? Harry could have used some help; this was exhausting. So far, he had fought off three trolls, two Acromantulas, a dragon, and that was the eighth Dementor.

'So the Prophet got its facts correct when they reported that you speak Parseltongue,' said Professor Tofty after Harry broke a sheet of bark off a tree, Transfigured it into a mirror and told a Basilisk to look at its own reflection. 'You don't strike me as a Dark wizard.'

'I'm not,' Harry replied defensively, warmth starting to spread up his face. 'Professor Dumbledore reckoned Lord Voldemort transferred some of his powers to me the first time he tried to kill me.'

Nothing further was said between the two of them as they continued towards a very faint light just visible through the thick forest.

Another ten minutes of forcing their way through the trees (and seven Pogrebin later) Harry and Tofty stumbled onto a beach. At least, it seemed to be a beach. Extremely fine, glowing sand sloped gently down to what should have been the water's edge but, instead, a great wall of rock rose before them.

Harry felt a cold trickle run down his spine. This was just like the cave where Voldemort had hidden Slytherin's locket. He looked left and right but could see no end to the cliff face, then glanced down at his feet. The sand definitely seemed like a beach. Was there a lake on the other side of this wall, too?

He gazed up at the impenetrable rock, remembering how Dumbledore had somehow been able to detect the entrance from the ante-chamber to the main cave. But Harry didn't know how to tell where magic was concealed, nor did he know the charm to make the entrance reveal itself. The only thing he had been able to do had been wipe his blood on the rock.

Still gazing at the wall, Harry reached into his robes, then remembered he had only been allowed his wand. He snuck a sly glance at Tofty. Was he really defenseless? Harry flicked his wand in the examiner's direction and something shot through the air into his outstretched hand. Before Professor Tofty could do more than gasp with surprise, Harry slashed his arm, causing a spray of scarlet across the rock face, which promptly dissolved into nothing.

'That could almost be classified as cheating, you know.' Professor Tofty sounded slightly bemused as he accepted his knife back. 'You are only supposed to use your wand.'

'I did use my wand,' Harry replied as he healed his cut and gazed at the lake before him.

Though not as vast as the one which Harry and Dumbledore had crossed to retrieve the fifth Horcrux, this lake was still quite large in size. Crystal clear, it stretched away from them to the distant bank, which also glowed faintly. Crouching down a moment, Harry picked up a small handful of sand and examined it, rubbing his fingers lightly over it before letting it trickle back to the ground. Unless he was much mistaken, that was powdered crystal. He allowed himself a secret grin. They were close; he could feel it.

Squinting across the smooth surface of the lake again, Harry wondered where the isle was. By rights, it should be in the centre of the lake, but there was nothing there, just a faint glowing light which seemed to shine upwards from beneath the surface of the water. He shook his head slightly. Surely the crystal isle wasn't at the bottom of the lake?

He pondered the problem. The lake was really too large for him to swim that far; although quite fit, he had never been a very strong swimmer. He glanced at his companion, taking in the bald head and wrinkles, trying to estimate how much strain his ancient heart could stand.

'Do you think you could swim halfway across the lake?' he asked.

'No.' Tofty didn't hesitate. 'I can't swim.'

Harry stared at him. 'OK, can you really not swim or is this just part of you being defenseless?'

Tofty gazed at Harry; an internal struggle seeming to be going on behind the dark brown eyes, as if trying to decide how much he should reveal. 'I'm not trying to be difficult, Harry,' he eventually said quietly. 'I truly cannot swim. I almost drowned when I was a small child and I have never been able to summon sufficient courage to go back into the water since then. I'm sorry.'

Harry felt frustration start to stir deep within him. That was going to make this much harder, trying to carry his charge across the lake, especially if Tofty's fear got the better of him. It would be simpler if they could sail across to where the light was and then dive down to its source. Tofty would need to be in the water for the least amount of time that way. Harry just hoped his panic wouldn't stop him holding his breath long enough. But first, they needed a boat.

Despite having just exposed his greatest weakness, Professor Tofty still had an air of amusement about him as his protector set off around the lake.

Once again, Harry had absolutely no idea just how to find what he was looking for, but remembering how suddenly Dumbledore had stopped, it had almost been as if he had bumped into the invisible chain which had secured Lord Voldemort's boat. It he was very lucky, perhaps Harry would stumble upon a boat the same way.

By the time they had come full circle, Harry's frustration was no longer slight. As well as being unsuccessful at securing a vessel to safely convey them to the middle of the lake, Tofty's face was giving nothing away as to whether it would be held against him or not. Even the clear, smooth surface of the lake seemed to mock him.

Harry angrily kicked out at the shallows, tangling his foot in some weeds and sending ripples spreading outwards. He tried to pull his foot free but the plant stubbornly stayed wrapped around his shoe; only after a second tug did he manage to finally get clear of the wretched thing.

Sinking down on the bank, Harry pulled off his shoe and emptied the water out of it. He sighed tiredly as he wiped a hand across his sweaty face, wondering what to do next but finding his mind annoyingly –

He blinked and brought his hand up to his nose. It smelt like something which he had tasted once. He couldn't be absolutely certain though; it was pretty faint. Grabbing up his shoe, Harry sniffed it too. It couldn't be …

Pushing his sleeves back, Harry plunged his hands into the shallows and grabbed a fistful of slimy, greyish green rat tail-looking leaves.

'Is there a time limit on this exam?' He turned to find Professor Tofty frowning at the leaves.

'Why, how much time do you need?'

'At least another hour.'

Tofty's brows rose. 'What on earth are you going to do with an hour?'

'Wait.' Harry grinned at the puzzled expression.

'For what?'

'This to wear off.' Harry help up the plant. 'This is Gillyweed. We'll use it to get you to the middle of the lake.'

The examiner's eye's widened with fear. 'But I can't swim!'

'You won't have to,' Harry continued. 'We'll walk across the bottom of the lake. And you won't have to worry about drowning because this stuff gives you gills just like a fish. You'll be able to breathe underwater. That's why we need an hour; that's how long it takes for this stuff to wear off. And we won't be able to resurface until it does or we'll be like –'

'Fish out of water?' said Tofty. He eyed the Gillyweed. 'I think I might be brave enough to try some of that.' He took some from Harry and stuffed it into his mouth.

Harry followed suit, the non-breathing nose and mouth and piercing pain on either side of his neck no less unpleasant the second time around. Grabbing Tofty's arm, he plunged forwards into the shallows, dragging his charge into the water before they suffocated.

The world within this lake was vastly different from the one Harry had encountered during the Triwizard Tournament. Although dark (the only source of light was the faint glow of the distant island which was no brighter below the surface), Harry enjoyed clear visibility in every direction. Apart from the Gillyweed growing near the shore, there were no plants anywhere across the lakebed, only the finely powdered crystal stretching before them. Fortunately, it was indeed crystal, because sand would have grabbed muddily at their feet, impeding their progress.

Harry glanced at Professor Tofty and was pleased to see the examiner seemed to be winning the battle with his fears or, at least, wasn't letting them dominate too much. He gave a thumbs-up of encouragement and received one in return after only a moment's hesitation.

They were probably about halfway to their destination when Harry happened to glance up and saw something which made him stop so suddenly, Professor Tofty bumped into the back of him.

Just visible in the dim light, several dark objects floated lazily above them like billowing cloaks. Harry couldn't tell for certain if they were Inferi or Lethifolds; either way, they weren't good. Luckily, they didn't seem to have noticed the adventurers, but Harry was willing to bet it wouldn't remain that way. Waving at his companion, he signalled that they should continue on their way, but slowly and carefully so as to lessen their chance of attracting attention.

They managed to make it the rest of the way without any further dramas, for which Harry sent up a silent prayer to whatever forces were protecting them. Even though this was only an exam, it had been very difficult to remember that as he had had to fight his way through every challenge he had ever faced since starting at Hogwarts. He wondered, briefly, how the other students would handle all of this. He was pretty sure Ron wouldn't make it past the Acromantulas, which was a shame; he had always been there for Harry when it counted most and had confronted almost as many horrors as his more-famous friend. But all of that didn't really matter at the moment. The moment Harry was living in right now was his NEWT exam and he had successfully and safely transported Professor Tofty to the crystal isle.

Rising up from the lake floor, the crystal isle was exactly like its name suggested: a large lump of glittering crystal, hundreds of facets reflecting the light glowing within its centre. It reminded Harry of a Swarovski bowl Aunt Petunia had received as a wedding present and which she used for Christmas punch.

Uncertain where the 'further instructions' were supposed to be coming from, Harry decided to spend the remaining Gillyweed time exploring the strange rock, but he had barely set foot upon the glassy stone when the ground beneath him shook violently, making both he and Professor Tofty fall. And they kept falling, rolling over and over down long, sloping banks as the island rose up to the lake's surface. Harry threw an anxious glance towards the floating creatures but they continued to drift just below the surface, seemingly as unaware of their surroundings as if they were languishing under the effects of the most potent sleeping potion.

To Harry's surprise, Tofty began to climb the rock, trying to reach dry land. Harry let him get almost to the top, then reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him back. When the professor stared at him with a look of pure panic in his eyes, Harry pointed at his water-logged watch and then the gills on the side of his neck, reminding Tofty that it wasn't safe for them to leave the water yet. A look of pure exasperation on his face, Tofty sat down beside Harry to wait out the rest of their hour.

'I'm very proud of you,' Harry told Professor Tofty as soon as the Gillyweed had worn off and they were finally standing dripping in the open air. 'I know how hard that was for you. You could easily have let your fears get the better of you, endangering both of us, but you didn't. Very well done.'

Professor Tofty blinked at Harry in surprise, colour starting to creep up his pale cheeks. 'It's not necessary to heap praise upon me, you know; it won't get you any extra marks.'

'That's not why –'

'Nevertheless,' the examiner held up a hand to stop Harry's protest, 'I do thank you. That may not have been the most enjoyable experience I have ever lived through, but I did live through it.' He allowed himself a self-congratulatory smile. 'Perhaps, when we have completed all of this, I just might enroll for swimming classes.'

Harry chuckled. 'You do that,' he said. 'When I was little, my third-grade teacher told us "the day you stop learning is the day you die", so you're not too old to learn. Just don't come to me; I'm not that great a swimmer myself so I wouldn't make a very good teacher.'

'Oh, I don't know,' Tofty commented. 'If your students' performances earlier today are any indication, you're actually quite an excellent teacher … in this subject, at least. But don't tell anybody I said that.' He glanced around furtively, as if checking for eavesdroppers, a cheeky gleam in his eyes.

Trying to ignore his own blushes, Harry shrugged. 'So what happens now?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I've brought you here … safely … so what are the further instructions?'

Tofty shook his head slowly. 'I'm not the one you need to ask.'

Harry gazed at him, perplexed. If he wasn't supposed to get his further instructions from the examiner, then who was he supposed to ask? There was nobody else here. Unless …

He unwillingly let his eyes drift past Professor Tofty to the clear water beyond him. Was he supposed to ask the things floating blissfully around the island? Taking a deep breath, he took a step towards the water's edge.

'Harry,' a girl's voice cried.

Harry turned back around. Professor Tofty had disappeared. In his place, two of the chained chairs from the Ministry were perched back-to-back on the island's summit. And securely bound to the chairs were Ron and Hermione.

Harry felt his jaw drop. What was going on here? He glanced around nervously as he scrambled up the rock towards his friends but there was still no sign of Tofty.

Reaching the top, Harry's fingers frantically scrambled over the chains, trying to release them but without success. 'Help me!' he implored as his fingers started to bleed.

'We can't, Harry.' Hermione's eyes were full of apology. 'You have to get us back to school by yourself. They confiscated our wands when they brought us here.'

'Who are "they"?'

'That lot!' Ron's voice rose in pitch and his eyes grew as large as dinner plates as he stared past Harry's shoulder at the lake.

Dread building in his stomach once more, Harry peered cautiously over his shoulder and jumped. More than a hundred pairs of rotted hands were scraping their way up the lower edges of the crystal rock, dragging after them the bodies they were attached to. Harry could see that they were definitely Inferi rather than Lethifolds, and not just any Inferi. What seemed to be every Death Eater who had ever died in Lord Voldemort's service was now advancing towards them, cloaks streaming with water and empty eye sockets staring blankly through broken masks, causing a wave of panic-ridden dejavu to wash over Harry.

He was jolted out of his stupor by Ron's shout of 'Do something!' and desperately tried to rally his frozen courage. He couldn't understand why he was struggling to feel brave now, especially after everything else which had been thrown at him today. It wasn't like he was particularly afraid of Death Eaters; they were just snobbish, bullying cowards, no better than the Dursleys. He had faced them before and survived; even gotten the better of some of them, remembering the time immediately after Snape had pretended to kill Dumbledore. And this lot were dead, so it wasn't like they were capable of intelligent thought or cunning. They were just … dead.

And with this thought, Harry's paralysis dissolved. Sweeping his arm in a wide arc, flames streamed forth from the end of his wand, creating a ring of fire around himself, Ron and Hermione. Continuing to whirl his wand in great loops above his head, Harry expanded the fire downwards and outwards, forcing the Inferi Death Eaters back away from its radiating heat and light. Retreating to the cool dark sanctuary of the lake, the Inferi slipped below the surface, black cloaks billowing around them as they returned to their former posts, floating quietly around the island.

'And stay there!' called Ron.

Not trusting that they were truly no longer a threat (they were Death Eaters, after all), Harry didn't terminate the spell, but left the ring of flames burning just beyond the edge of the island while he turned his attention back to the problem of how to free his friends.

'How did you know to do that?' asked Ron as Harry began closely examining the chairs, looking for a lock or something.

'Dumbledore did it once,' Harry replied testily, his exhaustion starting to make him lose patience with them for their refusal to assist him in any way. Ron's chair didn't surrender anything useful and he was halfway through Hermione's (getting more frustrated by the second), when she moved her left foot slightly, as if trying to hide something.

'You cheat!' he accused after he wrenched her foot out of the way to reveal an extremely tiny padlock.

'I told you,' she said as he unlocked it ('Alohamora') and began unwinding the endless length of chain, 'we aren't allowed to help you.'

'That doesn't mean you have to try to stop me. Or are you just doing that because you don't want me to get a better mark than you.'

'Don't talk to my girlfriend like that!' Ron jumped into the fray as the last few feet of chain clunked heavily to the ground and the two chairs vanished.

'Oh, shut up, both of you!' Harry angrily turned his back on his best friends, as much mad with himself as them. Was this part of the exam? As well as fighting against the Dark Arts, was he also supposed to fight against the darkness within himself? If so, then he was failing miserably.

For some reason, Umbridge's face floated before his eyes, that stupid cat-cream smile plastered all over it at the thought that Harry would miss out on becoming an Auror because he let his emotions get the better of him … and in his best subject, too. As mad as he was with Ron and Hermione, he had no intention of giving Umbridge her heart's desire and took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, while he gazed across to the distant shore.

How was he going to get them all back to the school? Would they be able to Apparate? Somehow, he doubted it. The point of the exam wasn't to prove he could Apparate (he had done that last July); it was to prove he could defend himself – and, apparently, others – against the Dark Arts. So he was probably supposed to get them home using some kind of defensive spell. But what?

'There's no need to – ' Hermione started to say defensively but Harry didn't want to hear it. He needed to think and for that he needed quiet.

Frustration welled up again, making his eyes sting. Or was that the heat from the flames? They flickered around him, reflecting in the boundary crystals …

Harry blinked and gazed more closely at the edge of the island. There was a fiery phoenix flying from one facet to the next, around and around the island. It was like watching a flipbook. Harry glanced upwards, thinking it might have been a reflection of Fawkes circling above them, but there was no bird in sight.

He looked back down. The phoenix in the stones seemed to be molting: feathers were dropping from its tail and twinkling for several seconds in each stone before fading to nothing. Was that how he was supposed to get them home … by using a tail feather? Sure, Dumbledore had given him some for Christmas but he didn't have any here with –

He glanced down at his wand. That wasn't entirely true. He did have a phoenix tail feather with him and had done for nearly seven years.

'Grab my wand.'

'What?' Ron and Hermione both stared at him, confused.

'My wand; grab it.' Harry held up the length of holly.

Glancing warily at each other, his classmates nervously reached their hands towards the wand.

Harry clamped his own hand over theirs, holding them fast.

'Hey!'

Ignoring Ron, Harry focused on the wand.

And suddenly … they were home.

Harry crouched, panting, on the floor of the Great Hall, small tremors rippling through his body as exhaustion, pain and relief took their toll. He went to squeeze Ron and Hermione's hands but discovered they had vanished. The only people in the room were the four examiners, all of whom were applauding.

'Didn't I tell you the extra time would be worth it?' Professor Tofty's beaming smile fairly split his face in two.

Griselda Marchbanks helped Harry to his feet. 'That would have to be the best exhibition I have ever seen; even beats Dumbledore.'

'We did think it a bit odd that Minerva had a student teaching, but it's easy to see why she did,' added Professor Fairweather.

Harry could feel himself blushing. 'I … I'm sorry I took so long,' he stammered, unsure just how to reply to the praise they were heaping upon him. 'Will you still have time to test the others before dinner?'

'Others?' Professor Marchbanks frowned. 'They've all been tested.'

'What?' Harry blinked at her stupidly. 'Even Ron?' With a surname starting with 'W', Ron would be one of the last to be called.

'Yes.' Tofty couldn't seem to be able to shake that grin. 'I told you you took your time. Mind you, only one other student finished – perhaps it's a family thing. Admittedly, he wasn't quite as stylish, but –'

'Do you really think you should be discussing that sort of thing in front of … minors?'

Harry jumped. He hadn't noticed Fulstrum standing over by the doors but now took full advantage of the opportunity to glare back at the scowling face. The one good thing to come out of having completed the exam (apart from being able to get some rest and never having to study up on counter-curses again unless he wanted to) was the fact that he would never have to be in close proximity to that man ever again.

While basking in the luxury of a soothing, fragrant bath (Ron had commented over dinner that Harry smelt like a troll on heat), Harry again pondered the mystery of his relatives. Professor Tofty's words had left him in no doubt that one of his fellow NEWT Defence students was related to him. He had also said they had completed the entire exam. Even Hermione hadn't managed that, getting stuck at the Inferi. As scented bubbles softly popped around him, Harry let possibility rise above the steam and condense into much harder probability. He sighed as he sank deeper into the warm water. He really needed to speak with Dumbledore.

Harry found his musings weren't the only thing distracting him over the weekend. Hermione spent most of the time repeatedly wishing she still had her Time-Turner and snapping at everybody from Gryffindor to Slytherin for disturbing her with their noise, even if they had only yawned. It was almost a relief to get up to the top of the Astronomy Tower at midnight on Monday to do the practical half of that exam. Fortunately, it went much better than two years before, but then they weren't unwitting witnesses to a physical attack upon McGonagall this time around; something Professor Tofty seemed nervous about. He kept sneaking sly glances towards Hagrid's hut and constantly reminded the students to hurry up please. Harry and Ron threw each other bemused looks before bending their heads over their telescopes to check the readings they had taken. At one a.m., after they trudged sleepily back down the spiral staircase, Harry collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed, desperate to snatch a few hours sleep before Herbology later that morning.

'Oh no,' Hermione moaned softly at breakfast. Harry and Ron glanced up to find her nose-deep in the Prophet.

'Hermione,' Ron cried exasperatedly. 'You've still got four more exams to study for; why on earth are you wasting time reading that rubbish?'

'Read that!' She pointed to a column on page nine. Ron's eyes popped wide as he read the indicated article.

'Snape killed Borgin? But –'

'Give me that.' Harry snatched the paper from him, quickly scanning the details. It was exactly as Remus had warned. Plagued with failures and incompetence, the Ministry had been desperate to demonstrate they were still capable of doing something right and had thoroughly investigated the connection between Borgin and the eagle, unearthing Snape's link in the process.

Harry glanced across the Great Hall. Only a few Slytherins took delivery of the Daily Prophet (mainly because most of them had the mental capacity of four-year-olds and so weren't capable of reading anything that advanced), so the ripple effect was rather slow. But it did ripple. One by one, the news spread along the length of not just that table, but also the Ravenclaw one, shock paralysing the students: spoons froze halfway to mouths, pumpkin juice poured unchecked into glasses, overflowing and staining tablecloths, and Crabbe and Goyle spilt hot coffee down their fronts. All because the former Head of Slytherin was really a Ravenclaw.

Feeling more awake than he had an hour before, Harry joined Ron in grinning at the Slytherin's betrayal as they headed down to Greenhouse Four.

Late that afternoon, Harry tossed his dragon hide gloves into the bottom of his trunk, thankful that that was over, though he didn't think he did too badly, thanks to lessons Neville had given him in exchange for Defence. Tomorrow was a rest day (for Harry and Ron, at least), and then Charms on Thursday, and they were done.

x

'Use Expollantum Bothrend against all species of Nundu unless there is leopard blood in it, then use –'

'Will you stop it, Hermione?' Ron looked like he was ready to bite Hermione's head off, despite having just claimed he wasn't hungry enough to eat lunch. 'You'll get Outstanding, same as you've gotten for all your other exams. Relax, will you?'

'Relax?' snapped Hermione. 'That's easy for you to say; this is your last exam. I've still got Ancient Runes tomorrow.'

'Then we'll be all finished.' Harry stepped in to stop Ron and Hermione's nerves launching themselves at each other's throats. They were in the ante-chamber beside the Great Hall (which had again changed from banquet hall to exam room), waiting their turns for the Charms practical. He glanced up as Flitwick called the next group of students, including Hermione.

'Good luck,' Harry called encouragingly, echoed by Ron (even if he did still look fed up with her), then they were left to battle their own demons in private.

Harry's mind was a whirlwind as he ran over every Charms class and tutorial with Flitwick. He was partway through the memory of his OWL exam, his hand unconsciously making slight movements, tracing the wand patterns for each spell he had used when, suddenly, McGonagall's amplified voice echoed through the school.

'Attention; your attention, please. Would all students please return to their common rooms – prefects and Head Boy and Girl to supervise. (Ron frowned.) 'Teachers and visiting examiners, please assemble in my office. Thank you.'

Harry glanced across at Flitwick. 'Er … am I a teacher or a student?'

Flitwick gazed up at the ceiling and then back at Harry. 'Teacher,' he squeaked. A moment later, the doors from the Great Hall opened and the examiners came out, followed by Hermione, Anthony Goldstein and a Hufflepuff girl Harry recognised from Herbology, Daphne something.

'Professor,' Professor Marchbanks addressed Flitwick. 'Do you know what is going on?'

'No, I am afraid I don't.' Flitwick's high voice was difficult to hear as he led them back out to the Great Hall; a growing hum of noise flooded in from the Entrance Hall as Slughorn and his Potions class arrived.

'Filius?' Slughorn zeroed in on Flitwick as Harry edged towards Ron and Hermione.

'What do you suppose is going on?' asked Ron.

'Voldemort couldn't be here, could he?' whispered Hermione, tightening her grip on her wand.

'No,' Harry murmured. 'My scar's not hurting.'

'What should we do, then?' Ron glanced over at the teachers.

'What we've been ordered to do,' stated Hermione, and she headed over to the group of Potions students. She spent a few moments talking to a girl wearing a prefect badge, then she returned to where Harry and Ron were standing.

'I've arranged for Felicity to get this lot upstairs. The other prefects should be OK with the other classes. Ron, if you can check on the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor dorms to make sure everybody is accounted for, I'll do Hufflepuff and Slytherin.' She looked around as the front doors banged open and Hagrid stomped in, a group of third-years trailing behind him, relief on their faces (probably at not having to continue dealing with whatever creature they were studying). 'You'd better get up to Professor McGonagall's office, Harry,' added Hermione, nodding towards Flitwick and the examiners waiting at the top of the marble staircase. Giving Ron a shove towards the staircase as well, she called for Hagrid's third year Slytherin's to follow her down to their dormitory.

'So, Professor.' Hagrid gave Harry a pat on the back which made him trip up several steps. 'Bin called to a special meetin', yeh have. Who'da thought tha'?'

'Do you know why, Hagrid?' Harry wriggled his shoulders, checking if his back had sustained any broken bones.

'Hope it's not the Ministry stuffin' things up again.' Hagrid threw a dark look towards the examiners ahead of them.

'Well, we'll know soon enough,' Harry said as they reached the gargoyle.

The atmosphere in McGonagall's office was like the inside of a freezer. All the teachers were standing around in a group just inside the entrance, apparently reluctant to step further into the room, as if doing so would somehow make the feared horror more real.

The examiners exchanged puzzled glances.

'Headmistress,' Griselda Marchbanks ventured. 'What is all this about?'

Even though the office appeared as ordered as usual – all of McGonagall's possessions were very neatly in their designated places – from her position at the window, McGonagall herself seemed to emanate an atmosphere of sheer helplessness. Normally very stiff-backed and forthright, her head was bowed and shoulders slumped in a pose reminiscent of the night Dumbledore had pretended to die. Harry was certain she suppressed a sob as she turned to face them.

An audible gasp echoed around the room as the teachers viewed McGonagall's deathly-pale face and red eyes, proof that she had indeed been crying.

'Minerva, whatever is the matter?' Madam Pomfrey took a step towards her, her hands instinctively reaching for her employer to help and to heal.

McGonagall drew a shaky breath, struggling to pull herself together as she sat herself down behind her desk.

'Minerva, please, what is it?' Slughorn's anxiety was probably the most palpable of all the teachers.

'Will you all, please, sit down.' said McGonagall shakily.

This seemed to confuse the teachers more. As there were insufficient chairs for all of them, wands were duly twirled to create more. Once everyone was seated, McGonagall cleared her throat nervously.

To give her credit, it only took her two attempts. In light of what she told them, Harry doubted he would have managed so quickly.

'A short time ago, I received an owl from London. Earlier today, supporters of … You-Know-Who …'

Harry's stomach dropped. Had Voldemort found Dumbledore?

'… penetrated the Ministry of Magic. Five minutes later, there was an …' McGonagall struggled to control her emotions. '… there was … an … explosion .. which de-de-destroyed most of the Ministry.'

Stunned silence greeted this news. If Harry was expecting anything, it certainly wasn't this. Nobody said anything, not even the examiners. It took several minutes before Flitwick asked what they were all thinking.

'How many are dead?'

Seemingly unable to speak the number out loud, McGonagall reached for a thick scroll lying near the end of her desk and pushed it towards Flitwick. Frowning, he began to unroll it.

It trailed almost to the door. Crowding around him, the examiners began searching the list of names, cries of shock escaping their lips almost immediately.

'What?' Professor Sprout was trying to see over their shoulders.

'The Minister is dead,' gasped Tofty, a hand pressed to his face.

'Braxton Fysher, Penelope Marks, John Roper,' Professor Capsworth sobbed softly, on all fours as she searched further along the scroll. 'I was at school with them.' She sat back on her heels. 'Penny and I were best friends from the minute we met on the Express. She ended up getting a job in Belgium. She can't be dead. She just can't be.' She tried to blink back tears.

Harry felt cold. If Scrimgeour was dead, and his office was on the same floor as…

He craned his neck to see past Professor Marchbanks, scanning the names near Scrimgeour's but, with the exception of the Minister, the victims were listed alphabetically, rather than by rank or status. Turning to search the other end of the parchment, Harry bumped into Hagrid, who was blocking most of the room.

'I used to spend half me time talkin' to Tommy Dregston abou' diff'rent creatures when he was here,' Hagrid said in a toneless voice. 'He was probably the only kid wha' liked dragons as much as me, even more 'n Charlie Weasley.'

'Dregston?' Slughorn spun around. 'How could he be dead?'

'I used to reprimand him for sneaking out at night and going to see you, Hagrid.' McGonagall blew her nose. 'He lost a lot of points for Hufflepuff. Dumbledore finally got me to realise you could teach him far more than any of the teachers here inside the castle.'

'But what was he doing at the Ministry?' Slughorn was shaking. 'I thought he went to work in Germany.'

'His cousin worked in the Department of Mysteries; perhaps he was visiting him?' McGonagall suggested.

Harry finally got past Hagrid and dropped to the floor, his eyes skimming past names he didn't know. He got about two thirds of the way down when the alphabet finished. A small part of Harry's stomach unclenched. The name wasn't here, but then he saw more names starting at A again. Confused, he peered closer.

The scroll contained two lists – one naming those who had been killed in the attack, the other identifying all of the wounded. Ice began to creep up Harry's spine again as he examined this second list but was forced back down by relief when he didn't find Mr Weasley's name. He must have been out on a raid somewhere, thank goodness. But there was a name which caught his eye.

'There was an added message both requesting everyone who has worked for the Ministry in recent times to fill in until the more formal arrangements can be made and to stay as far away from the Ministry as possible for their own safety.' McGonagall glanced at the examiners. 'I think it is fair to say that the remainder of the exams will be cancelled in light of this?' She got four nods. 'Then you will be wanting to return to London to offer Cornelius Fudge assistance. And you, Patricia?' She switched her gaze to Professor Capsworth.

'I'm not sure that Fudge will want me on his team; it was Scrimgeour who appointed me. Dolores Umbridge hasn't been harmed at all and will probably convince Fudge that she can do both our old jobs by herself.' Harry noticed, through his burning bursts of anger that Umbridge was OK and Fudge would be resuming the post of Minister, that Professor Capsworth was shaking like a leaf. Madam Pomfrey emerged from her own shock enough to go to her side, where she conjured a soft blanket and draped it around her shoulders.

Harry continued to gaze detachedly at Capsworth. He didn't belong here. The room was full of people in deep shock over the sudden, violent deaths of people they knew, some of whom they had even been close to. And while, now that he was over the original shock, Harry was certainly angry at the tragedy, he didn't share the connection which the others did.

He needed to get out of here. He had to speak to Ron and Ginny, then he really needed to see Dumbledore. This couldn't be coincidence. Voldemort was going to do something definite. Why else would he make sure this attack occurred? With one stroke, he had killed a large percentage of skilled witches and wizards and thrown the Ministry into total disarray, unable to efficiently rally against him.

'Where are you going, Potter?'

Harry stopped, his hand on the doorknob. 'To tell Ron and Ginny.'

'You'll need to speak to more students than that.' McGonagall gave another shuddering breath as she stretched her hand forward and touched her wand to the top of the scroll. Random names along its length glowed for several seconds, then McGonagall pressed the wand's tip against separate sheets of parchment which she got out of the top drawer of her desk. More glowing occurred as names scrawled their way down the sheets, three lists in all.

'I shall need the Heads of House to tell the students who have family members working at the Ministry what has occurred … and the fate of their …' She struggled once more to steady her breathing. 'Pomona … Filius …'

Both Professors Sprout and Flitwick accepted their lists with shaking hands. Hagrid gave a loud sob from behind his tablecloth-sized handkerchief. McGonagall blinked back tears as she glanced at him, then met Harry's gaze full on.

'Harry … Professor Potter …' Despite the atmosphere of horror engulfing all of them, herself included, there was a steely glint in McGonagall's eyes, as if she was daring Harry to shirk his responsibility. 'Would you be so kind as to inform the Gryffindor students of what has happened?' She held out the Gryffindor scroll as she gazed at him, unblinking.

'Er ...' Harry glanced uncertainly towards Hagrid, who gave a loud howl and buried his face deeper into his handkerchief. He was clearly deeply affected by the death of Tommy Dregston.

'Please.' McGonagall's eyes were full of pleading.

Harry didn't want to do this. He wasn't Head of House. If McGonagall didn't want to entrust Hagrid with such a delicate task, then why couldn't she do it herself? She used to be Gryffindor head.

'Professor …' said Harry. 'I …'

'Good; that's settled!'

Harry blinked. The scroll was suddenly in his hand. How had that happened?

Flitwick and Sprout, after a quick glance down their own lists, went to leave.

'What about my scroll?' Slughorn sounded half indignant, half hopeful.

Every head shot up, anger momentarily driving the shock and sorrow from their eyes.

'Do ya really think there'd be a stinkin' Slytherin among the dead?' roared Hagrid, making Slughorn jump. 'Like You-Know-Who would risk their miserable hides. 'Course there's no scroll fer you!'

More stunned silence followed this outburst. Slughorn's pale face drained of even more colour as he tried to stammer that just because a student had been in Slytherin didn't necessarily mean …

No one was listening. Hagrid resumed bawling noisily and wetly in the corner, Madam Pomfrey went back to consoling Professor Capsworth. Flitwick and Sprout, after a brief glimpse at Dumbledore's portrait, pushed past Harry and went back down to the school.

One by one, the other teachers also left, Professors Vector and Sinistra helping Hagrid from the office with great difficulty. Soon there was no excuse for Harry to remain and McGonagall's penetrating gaze was getting more uncomfortable by the second. With an incoherently muttered, 'Excuse me,' Harry backed out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

He made it as far as his office when the reality of what he was facing hit him. He collapsed shakily into his chair and pressed his hands to his face. How was he supposed to tell his students that their relatives were dead?

'I'm so sorry, but your father was killed by Death Eaters this morning.' Even to his own ears it sounded harsh and abrupt.

'I regret to inform you …'

I regret to inform you? It sounded like something they would say on a popular Muggle television police drama. He wasn't a policeman; why should he sound like one?

He spent several minutes continuing in this vein, but still couldn't come up with anything which he would feel comfortable saying to one of his fellow students. He just sat there, fuming, hating McGonagall for dumping this in his lap, hating Voldemort even more for creating this situation. A tiny part of him even hated Hagrid for being such a cry baby.

He knew he should get up to the common room but it was so much more comfortable just sitting here in the numb silence. It wouldn't last. Even now, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were hearing what had happened and it wouldn't be long before the news spread through the rest of the school. Did he really want Ron and Ginny to find out like that?

'What's going on, lad?'

Harry jumped at the sound of Sirius's voice. Quickly, he filled the portrait in about the attack at the Ministry. Sirius, in turn, asked for so many details that Harry knew he was going to need to quiz McGonagall even more before he returned to Gryffindor Tower. Sirius also had some useful tips for breaking bad news, whether the listener was a close friend or a complete stranger.

A short time later, armed with advice and information, Harry gave the Fat lady the password ('Broccoli') and stepped into a mausoleum.

McGonagall had warned him this would happen; the rumours would beat him upstairs. His eyes quickly sought out his friends sitting in a huddle near the fireplace, a letter and an exhausted owl lying on the table between them. As soon as Ginny spotted Harry, she leapt to her feet, snatching up the letter and sending poor Errol flying.

'Harry,' she cried. 'Mum says the Ministry's been destroyed and Percy's been hurt.'

'It's not true, is it?' Rebecca Canterville, a fourth year who always sat quietly at the back of the classroom, looked across at Harry with red-rimmed eyes. 'Please say it's not true,' she pleaded, more tears threatening to fall.

Harry gazed around at the sea of faces now all staring at him. So much for Sirius's advice. Taking a deep breath, he began.

It was a lot worse than he expected. As well as not being able to break the news gently to those students who were immediately affected (thanks to Mrs Weasley's letter, they were already aware of the fact that something terrible had happened), there was also a tidal wave of questions from students who didn't have any connection to the Ministry or its employees at all, some of them reflecting the morbidly malicious curiosity Harry normally associated with Slytherins. He had barely finished answering their questions when McGonagall's voice once more echoed through the school.

'Would all students and staff please gather in the Great Hall. Thank you.'

Wondering what was going to happen now, Harry helped Ron and Hermione herd the Gryffindors downstairs.

'As you are all, by now, aware,' McGonagall began, 'there was an attack at the Ministry of Magic earlier today. Approximately seventy percent of the Ministry's staff, including the Minister himself, are either dead –' (a soft wail echoed through the students) '– or injured. The remaining staff are currently re-forming at temporary quarters in Hogsmeade. Those students wishing to return home may do so, under strict supervision. Ministry officials shall meet here in the Great Hall at seven o'clock this evening and escort you to Hogsmeade where you will be transferred to St Mungo's Hospital to meet up with your families there.

'Owing to the tragic circumstances, the remaining O.W.L and N.E.W.T. examinations will be postponed for four weeks. Any students wishing to complete their exams then shall need to let their Head of House know before the Leaving Feast tomorrow night and shall be notified over the next few weeks as to arrangements.'

She paused and seemed to straighten further. 'I know nothing either myself or the other teachers can say can make what has happened today less real or painful. Only know that, throughout your heartache, we also share your sorrow. Many of the people working at the Ministry studied here at Hogwarts and were once our students or classmates. Even though we have not lost loved family as so many of you have, we have lost many beloved friends.' She paused again and blinked back threatening tears.

'The students wishing to leave today shall need to pack if they are to be ready by seven, and I would ask the other students to be on their best behaviour and not use this time for unseemly conduct.' Her eyes drifted to the Slytherin table where several students were looking extremely pleased at the turn of events. 'As this Hall shall be needed by the Ministry, dinner shall be served in your dormitories. Now, if you would kindly accompany your Heads of House back to your common rooms, they shall be able to give you further instructions.'

Harry glanced over at Hagrid, wondering if he would be up to doing his job yet.

'If you like, Harry,' Hermione's quiet voice said from behind him, 'I can do it; I'm Head Girl, after all.'

Harry felt guilty at the wave of relief which washed over him, but he really didn't think he could handle doing Hagrid's job for him again. He waited with Ron and Ginny while Hermione had a quick word with McGonagall, then they joined the other Gryffindors as they headed up the marble staircase.

'But what I can't understand,' mused Ginny later that evening, 'is how the Death Eaters managed to blow the Ministry up. It's protected from those sorts of spells to stop something like this from happening.'

Both she and Ron had declined the offer to be escorted back to the Burrow and were now lounging in Harry's room, a move which had scandalised Hermione. She seemed to think they should at least pretend to be concerned about Percy's welfare, even if he hadn't suffered anything more than a bruised cheek and broken jaw (he had been in the bathroom at the time of the attack). Ron had found the news of Percy being knocked out by a flying toilet quite amusing and Harry had had his hands full stopping an argument breaking out between his two friends.

'Is it protected against Muggle explosives?'

'What?' Ron started. 'Muggle explosives? Why? There's no way any of that lot would touch something Muggles use. They're all like Malfoy and his dad; they might get contaminated.'

'Well, that's what happened,' said Harry. 'It's all over the Muggle news; Sirius said that Remus booked himself into a Muggle hotel to get access to a television. Both Scotland Yard and the bomb squad are involved. They're claiming it was a group of terrorists who did heaps of bombings a few years back. I don't envy your dad's lot. They're going to have their work cut out for them, modifying everybody's memories so they don't remember all the wizard stuff, just the damage.'

'But how did they manage to get the explosives into the Ministry in broad daylight? Surely their security's not that lax.'

Ron threw Ginny a contemptuous look. 'This is the Ministry we're talking about, Ginny. Anybody can just floo in or take the lift. We did.'

'But it was still broad daylight,' Ginny pressed. 'Someone could have easily recognised them.'

'Not if they were disguised.' Hermione exchanged a meaningful glance with Harry and Ron. 'They were in and out in less than an hour.'

'Or it could have been one of the Ministry's people. Voldemort's bound to have at least one spy working there. It wouldn't be the first time a Death Eater has had a job at the Ministry and nobody realised.' Harry thought of Yaxley.

'But who?' asked Ron frustratedly.

'It doesn't matter, Ron,' said Hermione.

'Doesn't matter?'

'No,' she explained. 'That's not our problem. What we need to concentrate on is following through with the original plan. I assume that's still going ahead?' She glanced at Harry.

'Hmm. Dumbledore reckons Voldemort has done this to keep everybody looking the other way so he can sneak in here more easily. As far as we've been able to work out, he didn't have any Death Eaters with him when he checked each of the other hiding places, so he won't want them around when he comes here. This way, they'll still be celebrating this attack too much to notice what their boss is getting up to behind their backs.'

'So what do we do now?' sighed Ginny.

'Pack?' suggested Harry. 'We don't have any more exams now – tomorrow's a free day – then the feast is tomorrow night. Lupin's coming so he can help me put the plan into action, then we get everybody heading home and … what will happen will happen.' He avoided everybody's eyes as he spoke. He still felt uncomfortable dragging his friends into this. It was one thing for him to suffer the consequences of the prophecy; he didn't have a choice – well, actually, he did have a choice, but not one he was prepared to change – but he didn't think he could bare it if anything terrible happened to his friends because of him.

'Well, I'm off to bed then.' Ginny stood and stretched. 'Goodnight.'

''Night.' Harry only half noticed her going; his mind was full of the showdown he had yet to face.

'Coming Ron?' Hermione also stood up.

'What?' Ron dragged his eyes from Harry.

'Coming?' Hermione jerked her head slightly towards Harry. Ron frowned at her.

'It's OK, Ron,' sighed Harry. 'You can go. I won't mind.'

Ron's face fell slightly. 'Oh … OK.' Dejected, he followed Hermione and Ginny. Finally alone, Harry took his time going over his plan in his head. He wanted to make sure every detail was perfect. Then, fetching his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak, he opened his window.