A/N: Had a spot of trouble with my notebook (a virus:-/), but fortunately all the important files were recovered. Here's another chapter pf Metamorphosis (the next instalment of Pantogogue will be updated in a few days), and I'm afraid half of you will want to kill me, so… let's get it over with.
Brynn

x

Warm Welcomes

x

I suspect Remus is wary of me trying something, because I'm carted off to Hogwarts on Monday morning, 2nd of December, and informed that I'm to attend the afternoon classes. At least they had the courtesy to excuse my lack of homework. I'm unlucky that Potions aren't, as is traditional, in the morning, but hopefully Snape won't get off on insulting me and generally being the pain in the collective Gryffindor ass.

The lack of welcome is caused by everyone being in class, though Dumbledore was kind enough to send McAllister to make sure that I don't make a repeat of my after-Ministry performance from last year after I floo into his unsupervised office. I must say, I'm tempted nevertheless.

I track up to the tower, dislodge the stack of textbooks they brought for me to Grimmauld Place, and then unload the Shrunk volumes (which I borrowed from Bill or nicked from the Black library) from my pockets. There's quite a lot of them, but I'd rather Hermione didn't get her fingers on them. A few are nastier than what her humanist mindset tolerates.

I lack one particular book, which I need before I can even un-Shrink these, and that leads me down to the library. It's empty. My wild guess is that Pince is holed up with Trelawney, sharing sherry. I don't really mind, because this way the book I need is free for me to take, and since it's not in the Restricted section, I am fairly certain that the loan won't be questioned by authorities, as long as I return it.

x

"I can't believe Professor Flitwick thought I would let you cheat. I can't believe you even attempted! You're just as bad as-"

"Harry!"

I turn from my plate and quirk a half-hearted grin at Ron, who walks alongside an irate Hermione towards our usual spots at the Gryffindor table. He grins back, and moves to nudge her, but she ignores him.

"No way! Harry doesn't cheat, Ron! You should follow his example. You're as bad as Lavender."

Ron shrugs at me, as if to say he tried. I shrug back.

"Harry!" an excited squeal comes from behind them and Ginny bounds down the aisle, running full speed at me.

"Harry?" Hermione looks around, bemused, shaking her head as if everyone has gone mad.

"Hi," I say, receiving an armful of an over-exuberant redhead.

"Hi, mate," Ron replies sedately, sitting on the bench next to me.

"Harry!" Hermione finally catches up. "How are you? Where have you been? When did you come back? What-"

Ron clamps a hand over her mouth and I nod to him in silent thanks, since my mouth is currently full of chicken soup. Hogwarts food is good. I guess I've gotten so used to it that I forgot to appreciate it.

I glance over to the door, just in time to meet Draco's eyes. He gives me a beatific smile, and strides straight to us, completely ignoring the fact that he should be going to the opposite side of the room to Slytherin table. We can always spare him a spot, that's not a problem. I prod Ginny to move further to the right, so that the place next to me frees. She grumbles, but does so, allowing Draco to slip in between us. We both turn halfway, and – quite suddenly- he's got his arms around me, clutching me in a death grip.

"I was so scared…" he whispers in my ear. His voice trembles; all Malfoy dignity is suspended for that one moment of a truth too harsh for me to accept.

"You shouldn't be," I reply under my breath. "One day, I won't come back."

The arms tighten yet more. Inside my head I scream at the universe for doing this to me. How can I die with no regrets, when Draco Malfoy loves me?

x

After the afternoon classes, which I attend but spend being bored out of my mind, I finally give in to my friends' badgering and we troop up to the Room of Requirement for a chat without the chance of some inquisitive soul eavesdropping. I tell them a pretty story about going out to Hogsmeade, meeting Bill and Charlie and escaping to Egypt for a vacation. Hermione disapproves rather vocally, but in the end is silenced by Ron, Draco and Ginny, who think it was a great achievement, the right thing to do, and overall victory for me, since I didn't get punished and even was allowed to do nothing in the classes until Christmas. She reacts to that by huffing and storming out of the room.

"Well… good for you mate," Ron says, but somehow can't make it sound believable. He knows I'm lying like there's no tomorrow, but lets it pass. We would die for each other, but we both understand that there's a rift between us that can't be bridged. Ron is aware that he doesn't understand me and therefore refuses to judge me and I'm grateful, probably more than he'll ever know. He stands up and goes to find Hermione, have a row about my behaviour and a round of make-up making out.

I miss Bill.

I look away from the door, which is once again closed, to the two people who remain in the room with me. Draco stands, gives me a hand-up, and we spend a couple of minutes in silent embrace, while Ginny looks on. She is the closest to Draco and to a point recognises that we have a bond (even though she's unaware of its specifics) and respects it.

"I knew you have not died…" Draco states, not minding Ginny in the least. "But you came so fucking close, Harry! I felt it! You didn't think I would eat that bullshit you spewed for the last half-hour, did you?!"

I did not.

"There are things worth dying for," I reply simply. Draco pushes my bangs out of my face, noticing that they have lengthened. I have never needed a haircut and I hazard a guess that were I to chop off the odd inch now it would grow back by tomorrow. My hair has a will on its own and does what it wants to do. I don't bother attempting to tame it anymore. Why it changed, I have again but guesses.

"You are different. Bad and good things happened to you, and you are not the same, Harry." I nod. Draco's very smart, when he chooses to engage himself. I have a nagging suspicion that he's actually smarter than Hermione, but woe betide me were I to ever say it out loud.

"You don't need glasses," Ginny supplies from the couch she's sprawled on. I nod again.

"I can't keep up with you anymore. You've gone and left us all behind."

I shake my head. I am not ahead of anyone. I'm merely trying to survive now – Merlin knows I was so close to giving up that goal – and, as ever, trying to kill Terrordemort. Whichever way the war will end, I won't be able to go back to what I was like before it started. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco won't need someone like that. They have each other, I made sure they would have each other, they can depend on themselves. They'll be strong.

And I'll be free, one way or another.

"Harry… if you kill him and come back alive… don't disappear. Please."

Oh, Draco. Even if I managed to kill Tom and come back alive… there won't be much of me left to salvage. I won't be the Harry Potter you have learnt to love. That Harry Potter is already dead… You do his legacy proud.

"Draco, I am so very glad that I won't be meeting you out there."

The corners of his mouth turn downward; he clenches his teeth, suppressing tears.

"Fuck you!" He backhands me, as hard as he can, and storms out of the room. I hate myself for making him cry. He's tough, though; I'm not afraid of breaking him. In the end, he'll come out on top of things, he'll build the war-devastated wizarding world anew, and he'll be the one people will look up to. He'll be the real saviour, and if I live to witness it… it just might turn out to be my greatest accomplishment.

"He loves you, you know?" Ginny ventures after a while of silence. I unfreeze, lick coppery blood from my lips, and sit down on the sofa, pushing her legs out of the way.

"I know."

She sits up and cards her fingers through my hair. I stare at my hands folded in my lap.

"He's not really mad at you; he knows what you're fighting for and why you chose the way you did… He just hates that it's required of you."

I know that, too. Ginny's hands slip over my shoulders. She leans over, brushes my hair aside much like Draco did, and scrutinises the already forming bruise on my cheek.

"I love you too, you know?"

I sigh. I know that too but, while Draco's love is sort-of returned, Ginny's remains one-sided. In a different timeline, where Voldemort isn't an insane psychopath bent on shortening my life span, Ginny and I could have been a couple. But here she's too innocent, too good and Light and alive to be spoilt by me. I couldn't even seduce Remus, despite all his stupid obstinacy and hung-up ignorance; there's no way in Hell I'd touch something as precious as Ginny.

I kiss her brow and ward her off when she tries to shift closer to me.

"It's hard to explain…"

"You don't have to," she replies with a soft smile. I find myself smiling back, invigorated by the live vision of what I'm ultimately fighting for. With a lot of effort and suffering from me, she (and hundreds of others) may stay so happy, so normal all of their lives. She still deserves an explanation, though.

"I…"

"There's someone." I nod, thankful for the help. It's not that easy, really. There's Bill, and Charlie, and Snape-slash-Severus, who is by far the most confusing of the three.

"I don't love them – really, I don't. It's just… I'm grateful to them, and… if I'm going to kill Tom the hard way, I'm going to need them." I'm so lucky the English grammar allows the use of 'they' for both one person and multiple people. I'm so lucky there are so many helping me… I'm lucky Ginny really tries to comprehend, and although she cannot truly, she respects my decision without any feelings of resentment embittering either of us.

x

Hermione spends Tuesday and Wednesday mad at me. Ron stays with her, attempting damage control, but actually alternating between watching her study and snogging her. Draco avoids me; the one time we coincidentally meet in a hallway his eyes well and he quickly turns a corner, getting away as fast as he can. Ginny talks to me, as do other Gryffindors and old members of the DA, and generally anyone bold enough to bother the Boy Who Lived. I try to be patient with them, but as I'm disturbed from reading the book I've borrowed from the library – Munimentum Mei – for the twenty-sixth time, I scare the throng around me out of their wits and, apparently, into alerting the entire school to my temper. I can't say that I mind. At least they leave me alone.

x

I'm not getting any information from anyone, and when Thursday evening comes with no one telling me a thing I know that the Order doesn't intend to include me. It's not that I enjoy fighting, but, objectively, having me there could save lives. They're all idiots, stuck-up prejudiced patronising blind morons.

I strap on the scabbard with the saif, put on an overcoat, cast a Silencer on myself, and walk out. I don't get far – relatively speaking. Outside the Entrance Hall I happen upon an unfamiliar owl, who carries a thin slip of parchment in her talons. She looks anguished, and I have a nasty feeling that she was trying to reach me for quite some time.

There is a set of Apparition co-ordinates, and the initials SS. Since there is only one moderately sane person in the world who would believe that I would without questioning trust a near blank note from anyone with initials SS (not to speak about the lack of people with inkling about me being able to Apparate), I dare say it's fairly safe. I'm not going into this without caution either.

I pretty much run all the way down to the gates and slip out – it's much easier than slip in these days. The gate was made One-way Pervious to ascertain that help could come without hindrance if there was an attack on Hogsmeade. I'm quite sure, though, that it was so adamantly insisted upon to ensure that the students could escape if Hogwarts was infiltrated and overtaken.

Anyway, once I'm past the Anti-Apparition ward, I Disapparate.

x

The place is reminiscent of London Zoo in the way one such attraction resembles other. There are enclosures and cages, most of them darkened and quiet. The inhabiting animals – I landed in the Muggle section – are mostly asleep and only make random little noises here and there.

Then, almost immediately upon my arrival, the battle breaks out. It's happening out of my direct sight; I see the night-sky flashing with variety of colours, people yelling and, occasionally, screaming. I am reasonably sure that Voldemort is after the swamp dragons.

I am also reasonably sure that I could be more of use in a different part of the Zoo, and in different capacity. I hate Remus right now, not truly hate, but in that temporary way that makes you want to punch someone's face, although not kill them. I should have seen the plans, I should have known the place. I only have a vague idea about where I should go, gotten from the board with directions for the visitors. To say that the map is imprecise and incomplete is a massive understatement.

I must go alone. That's the point. They will never get it, never understand that only I – the Boy Who Lived – will survive such confrontation, no matter how large an army will be dispatched with me. No one else can maintain a semi-permeable personal ward in fight; no one else stands the chance against the combined forces of several Death Eaters and Voldemort (should he be present here today, which I doubt very much for various reasons) on their own turf. This isn't shooting fliers before they reach the ramparts, or taking down invaders one by one. It isn't going to be a battle where I am going – it's going to be me against them.

There are Anti-Portkey and Anti-Apparition wards installed over the entire area, therefore they must be leaving by foot, at least to a point. That point is what I'm looking for. I know that Voldemort counted on me when drafting his plan, and therefore the search won't be easy.

It's irritating that the only one who doesn't underestimate me is the only one I would like to. I rub my wrists as I skulk through the shadows cast by odd trees and heaps of constructional material. Lines of silvery white on the grass indicate where new enclosures are to be built.

The sounds of the battle gradually die out; whatever Voldemort wished to achieve here, he's managed it already. The Order was too late to save the dragon-handlers, but there are still a few Death Eaters around here. Voldemort's watches… and those who consider the chaotic attempts to calm and contain the escaped Welsh Greens entertaining. The two angry and frightened lizards have charged through the metallic barrier when the charms on it were disturbed by wayward spells.

The observers must be somewhere with a view of the preserve – on the hillside.

x

The uphill lawn with a bush here and there, sparse few trees and heaps of long things that look to me like metals (I reckon it's what they build cages for magical creatures of), is as hostile as the graveyard of Little Hangleton, though considerably less creepy.

The Death Eaters are there alright. I blast the nearest pile of metals into a cloud of high-velocity shrapnel, and shred those of them who are not quick enough to Apparate or put up a shield (and those whose shields are not strong enough) into pieces of meat. The ground looks like Hogwarts after the siege, just more… minced.

I'm quite good, if I say so. From eleven Death Eaters I've made four, and one doesn't count, because he was in the opposite direction from the spell. I can take on four.

Better yet, I can take on three – one started retching upon the sight of (most likely) her former companions. An obvious newbie. I take her down with a Stunner (I'm not so callous at this point in time as to discount the possibility that she is yet to be initiated, and therefore salvageable, however improbable it might be).

Two of them, used to seeing blood, engage me in a duel – is it even called duel when there's three of us casting? – and the third one sneaks behind me. I know about him and am not worried, though he doesn't know that.

I fell one of those in front of me and he looses his mask in the process. The hair on my arms rises as I recognise the face, short cropped vivid red hair, blue eyes, horn-rimmed spectacles. In my shock I'm too slow to shield against the next attack, and a barrage of hexes shatters against my personal ward. The fireworks almost blind my left eye, and most certainly do blind the second Death Eater. I use the opportunity, levitate a sharp piece of metal and lodge it in their throat. They are dead within seconds, but I don't watch their sinking. I ignore the gurgling and rattling sounds, and approach Percy.

He's already dead. His left sleeve has bunched up as he grasped on the grass in spasm, and reveals the edge of a black tattoo on his forearm. His face is scrunched up in hatred, teeth bared, eyes shut. I don't know why he died – the curses I was shooting were fatal, but not instantly. Then I notice a trickle of green foam oozing from the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck…" a way too familiar voice says succinctly. Profanities from Bill are rare, but this situation sure deserves one. If anyone had to come and see this scene, it never should have been a Weasley. They're going to hate me now.

But Bill doesn't sound angry. He comes closer. In the starlight he's pale… I don't doubt that he would look just as pale, or maybe grey, in daylight.

"I thought you weren't here," he says slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the corpse of his brother. "Why didn't you come with us?"

"Because nobody bothered to tell me anything," I growl. This is definitely not the time to harp, but I'm mad at myself and everyone from the Order. It's not Bill's fault, but he could have changed it. Just like I could have saved Sirius… Yeah, it's not his fault.

"I'm sorry."

A rustle behind me alerts me to the Death Eater who has been trying to get there for a while. I've totally forgotten about him… Gods, he could have attacked Bill! I surreptitiously move so that I stand between the bugger and Bill.

"Remus told me he briefed you…"

I'm getting mightily annoyed at Remus. Maybe it's time to distance myself from the Order. I'm better as a one-man unit either way.

"Remus is a lying meddling back-stabbing…" I cut myself off before I say something that should remain confined to the recesses of my mind. Bill closes his eyes, straightens, and then opens them with resolve.

"Evanesco."

Percy's body disappears. I agree with Bill's decision. It's better that Percy goes missing and stays like that forever, than if he was to become a dead Death Eater. It would break Mrs Weasley's heart.

Bill turns to face me, with an overwhelming sadness in his eyes, something that Charlie never could convey with a simple look.

"Harry-" the sadness is all of sudden replaced with fear. "Look out!"

He's spotted the sneaky toady of Terrordemort's. I shake my head, unafraid. The ward stops anything short of an Unforgivable.

"Abbrevo!"

But Bill doesn't know about the ward. He hugs me and spins us around, placing himself into the path of the curse.

It all happens too quickly; I can't do anything. Bill's so much stronger than I… There's no way I can stop him.

When the light hits him, he staggers forwards and lets go of me.

"Vorax!" I cast over his shoulder. The Death Eater is blasted into pieces, not fast enough to shield. Even if he did shield, it wouldn't help him.

Bill gulps.

There's something awfully wrong. His eyes are wide, surprised, and he lets out a quiet gasp, which is the only indication that he's in pain. He starts falling; I catch him, eliciting another gasp, and lower him on the ground.

The front of his robes stains red… the blotch grows rapidly. I don't understand. I don't want to understand.

"No…" I don't know what I thought the denial would achieve. Madam Pomfrey can't help him now. Gods, team of the best healers there are can't help him.

"You're going to be alright," he says quietly.

"It shouldn't be you consoling me…" I whisper. He smiles. It's a weak expression, but there is nothing shallow or untruthful about it. He's so incredibly strong… he knows he's dying, and he's at peace with it – what kind of things must a man younger than thirty have seen to not object to dying?

He reaches up and wipes a tear I haven't noticed up till now.

"Don't cry, Effervescence."

It's perhaps the wrong thing to do but, knowing that this is my last chance and feeling that I need it, I touch my lips to his. He responds, slowly, as his life leaks out of him and soaks into the ground and he grows weaker… I'm losing him, and I can't think of anything to say to him. No heartfelt goodbye, no last statement, no proclamation of eternal (or even temporary) love. It should have been Fleur here, not me…

…or maybe it's best the way it is. I taste his blood, which was about the last of his flavours I yet had to experience. Then he stops responding, and I pull back. Our eyes meet, and the light in his is dimming. He grasps my hand with surprising force… so he's not so at peace, after all. That silent pleading breaks something inside me; I want him to stay with me, and he wants to stay with me, too. He breathes out for the last time, but doesn't close his eyes, looking at me until the very, very end, as long as he possibly can.

Hard, silent sobs rack my body and I lean forward, resting my forehead on Bill's chest that has already ceded bleeding. He's gone. He's gone… he's…

"I'll kill him, War. I'll kill him for you."

Magic seals the Oath with a flash of anti-light. I stroke long blood-soaked strands, revelling in the feeling of the liquid coating my fingers. I've got blood on my hands… blood on my hands… a stigma. I am Marked.

I rapidly stand up. My entire body quivers. Casting charms on Bill's… on Bill feels like desecrating, but there is no way I could physically lift him, and I'm sure as Hell not waiting here for someone to come and butt in. I grit my teeth and do a Featherlight Charm, non-verbally, so that I can pretend I did not, and lift him into my arms. I have kissed this man, I have traced all the edges and planes of this body, I've had him inside me. And now he's destroyed. I can't begin to describe the enormity of this crime.

I walk towards the perimeter of the wards to the rhythm of a twisted mantra thrumming in my ears: "The Dark Lord approaches… thrice defied him… the seventh month dies… Mark him as his equal… he will have power… must die… neither can live… dies…"