Author's Note: This chapter marks a milestone for me, as it pushes this story over 50,000 words. I don't think I've ever written anything so long! The final product will weigh in at a little less than 72,000, to give you an idea of how much longer we've got to go. To new readers: welcome! To old readers: thanks for sticking with the story!

Hermione returned to Hogwarts the next day as promised. Ron came too; his Unfreezing had been eminently successful, and while he had to take two months' worth of potions to keep his body from Refreezing, he seemed healthy enough.

The day after they returned, we held a memorial service for Luna Lovegood. The Great Hall was decked out in Ravenclaw colors, and Professor Flitwick led us in memorializing her. Her father had traveled to the school to talk with some of her friends, of which there weren't many. Luna had not been popular or well-liked, but I knew she would be missed. She had shone, whether or not other people had admitted it, and the lack of her light would be noticeable.

Everyone was quieter for a week or so after the Valentine's Day incident, and my life was nearly unbearable. In the depths of grief, everyone had glommed onto the one person who understood them better than anyone, which meant my friends spent nearly all their time with their significant others. Meanwhile, Neville and I were going out of our ways on a daily basis to avoid each other. I was starved for human contact, so I actually approached Harry before he did me on the subject of the Avebury ritual.

"It's very complicated," I explained to him. "If we don't begin studying now, I'm afraid we won't be ready by Solstice."

"You're right, of course we have to begin," he said, his voice worried. "I'll talk to Ron and Hermione."

Soon we had another covert meeting to discuss the ritual. Hermione had apparently been charged by Harry to find sources of information, and she'd come through in spades.

"It's very complex and very old," she said, opening a book on the table to reveal a diagram of the stone circle at Avebury. "It takes six people to do properly."

"Six!" exclaimed Ron.

"Yes," Hermione continued bossily. "One High Sorcerer or Sorceress, one Recipient -- Harry, that's you, naturally -- and four people to represent the four elements."

"Elemental magic," Ginny murmured. "That IS old."

"Recipient?" Harry queried.

"We're asking the stones to give up protecting something they've been hiding for a millennium," she explained. "They need to bestow it upon someone; they won't just cough it up and let it fall on the ground or something."

"Wait a tick, how exactly did Voldemort turn it into a Horcrux in the first place?" asked Ron incredulously.

Hermione shook her head. "That I don't know."

"I do," I said softly. "He brought his victim to Avebury. The armband appears briefly at sunrise of the solstice without having to do the ritual, and He Who Must Not Be Named used that window to kill the victim and turn it into a Horcrux. It disappeared a moment later, and You Know Who knew that it was well-protected."

"Can't we use that time to destroy it?" asked Harry.

"No," I said. "It can't be touched in that time. And we need to touch it."

"Why?" asked Hermione.

I looked at her wearily. "The locket wanted to be opened. The cup wanted to be filled. The lorgnette wanted to be looked through."

"The armband wants to be worn," Hermione breathed. "Oh, no."

"Why? Why is that bad?" asked Ginny anxiously.

"It's very powerful," Hermione said carefully. "It was the mark of a chieftain, who was typically a very powerful wizard. Pieces like that are said to be . . . temperamental."

"Will it hurt Harry?" Ginny demanded.

"It's not impossible," Hermione hedged.

"Then he can't do it," Ginny said.

"Yes I can," Harry said softly. "Dumbledore told me once, when I pulled the sword from the Sorting Hat, that I was a true Gryffindor. If I can't do it, no one can."

Silence descended. Hermione broke in tentatively. "I was thinking I would be the High Sorceress, as that part's got the most lines, and my memory's quite good."

Ron chuckled at this and put an arm around her shoulder. "Go for it, love."

"You all have to take the elemental parts," Hermione continued, her voice a little stronger. "Ginny, I think you should be fire."

Ginny finally smiled at this. "Yeah, probably."

"Ron, you'll be earth," she said.

"I'm a redhead too!" he cried.

"Yes, but you're the reassuring one," she said awkwardly. He flushed at this and didn't object again. "Susan, from what I've read, Seers are generally associated with air. Is that all right?"

"Sure," I said. It didn't much matter, anyway. At least, I didn't think it did.

"We need one more person," Hermione continued, "and I think Neville would be the best to ask."

My head snapped up. Oh, no. Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi hadn't told me much about the Avebury ritual, saying that I would learn what I needed to know as I went along. They'd only told me the history behind it, not what would happen on the solstice. I was beginning to suspect that they'd deliberately left out the bit about Neville, and I wondered just how much my mother had known about my relationship with him.

"It's not so much that he's a perfect fit for water, but we need someone we can trust, and Neville's the one person who certainly wouldn't give us up," Hermione finished, and looked around. "Anyone object?"

"Not at all," Harry said. "Susan, can you fill him in?"

"Sure," I said, a little breathlessly. "I'll get right on that."

"Good," beamed Hermione. "Now, I've copied out the script, and I've highlighted your part on each of your copies. If we start studying it now, we should have it down by the solstice." She distributed the documents, and I began to wonder what I'd gotten us all into.

"If we do this incorrectly, what will happen?" Ginny asked quietly.

Hermione frowned. "Probably nothing."

"'Probably'?"

"It's not without its risks," Hermione sighed, "but we haven't got a choice."

There was another moment of silence, then Harry spoke up. "Thank you. Thank you, all of you, for seeing me through all this. I don't know why you -- I can't -- just -- thank you. That's all."

"Happy to oblige, mate," Ron said, and we all murmured our agreements.

We broke a few minutes later, and though it pained me to do so, I began looking for Neville. He wasn't in our common room, nor was he getting a late lunch in the Great Hall. I finally found him in Greenhouse Three, where he was repotting Fanged Geraniums for Professor Sprout.

"Hi," I said, and he nearly dropped the pot he was working on.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

"I came to ask your help," I said steadily. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry.

"Oh, that's rich."

"Please hear me out."

"Abso-- OUCH!" He drew his right hand to his chest and clasped his left around it. The Fanged Geranium nearest him settled smugly back into its pot.

"Did it bite you?" I asked anxiously.

"Of course it bit me," he said sullenly.

I approached him. "Let me see."

"No."

"Neville, let me SEE." He narrowed his eyes, but extended his right hand to me. The bite was bleeding, but it wasn't swollen. He'd be fine with a bandage. I Conjured one up, along with some adhesive, and dressed the wound carefully. I made sure to concentrate on the cut and not meet his eyes while I was working.

"There," I said when I was finished, and he snatched his hand back.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"You're welcome. Now will you listen to me?" He nodded. "Harry needs your help. In about a month, we have to sneak out of school, travel to the south of England, perform an ancient ritual, and destroy a precious relic of Godric Gryffindor. And we need one more person for the ritual."

"What??"

"It's the only way to defeat You Know Who," I said rather desperately.

"And you know this because you learned it in the future."

I sighed. "Yes, not that that's the point here."

"Oh, I beg your pardon. And you're asking me to do what, exactly?"

"It's sort of like a play. Except that we're invoking the four elements and waking the stones of Avebury."

Now his eyes widened. "The elements?? That's -- that's pre-Hogwarts magic."

"Yes."

"And you want me to --"

"-- be water. I'm air, Ginny's fire, and Ron's earth."

He stared at me in disbelief. "You think this is a game? You think you can just go waltzing over to some site protected by ancient magic and read some lines and not get hurt?"

"That's what we're hoping," I said, a little testily. I didn't need Neville introducing doubt into this equation.

"And you need me."

I fixed him with a look. "In more than one way. Yes."

"No, don't start with that. I'll help Harry. I'll do whatever it takes to defeat Voldemort. Tell me when and where, and I'll be there. But I'm not doing this for you."

Tears filled my eyes; I couldn't help it. "Good, because it's not about US, you stroppy, miserable git! I don't know why you're so determined to stay angry, but I hope you enjoy spending time with the nasty Fanged Geraniums, because I am LEAVING! I'll have Hermione give you your script, and you'd better study up, because I will be buggered if this whole thing fails because you're too angry with me to do it properly!" While my words were still ringing in the air, I turned on my heel and stomped out of the greenhouse.

Outside in the February cold, I cried in equal parts anger and sadness. There was a fine layer of snow on the ground, and I made some dirty snowballs and hurled them into the Lake. They landed with a satisfying splash.

Why couldn't he forgive me? I hadn't lied to hurt him; I'd lied to protect myself. Surely he had to understand that.

I had an inkling that he wasn't actually as angry with me as he was letting on, but I pushed that thought away. It smacked of false hope, and I hadn't the time for that.

Back at the castle, I found Hermione in the library. "He'll do it," I told her, and she looked relieved. "Can you give him the script?" I continued. "I -- " Words failed me, and I looked at her helplessly.

She seemed terribly curious, but thankfully, she had enough tact not to delve into my reluctance. "Of course."

For the next few weeks, I rehearsed my part until I knew it backward and forward. Hermione had cautioned against rehearsals, saying that there was no telling what would happen if we all said our parts in turn. "It's not impossible that the castle would respond in some way," she mused. "We're better off waiting for the actual event."

February melted into March, and March swept over me like a tide. As the time for the ritual drew nearer, I felt myself growing more and more agitated. This was the last Horcrux, the last hurdle to clear before defeating Voldemort, and I still hadn't told my family who I was; nor had I come up with the means to save my father. I'd either be returning to my own time or dying in less than two months, but I hadn't even come close to achieving all my goals. And -- I couldn't help but think this last part -- I wanted to make things right with Neville before I left him forever. I was running out of time, and all I could do was practice my part.