Author's Note: Almost at the end, guys. There will probably be nothing new till after Christmas, so make this one last!

"Susan," Ron hissed in my ear.

I jumped in my seat. I was in the common room, staring into the middle distance, wondering both how I was going to hide Harry and how I was going to say good-bye to Neville in two short weeks. Those two problems kept me on edge most days now, and interrupted my sleep. "What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for a minute and a half," Ron said irritatedly.

I focused on his face. It wasn't like Ron to get annoyed with me for something so simple. "What's the matter?"

He sat on the arm of the sofa I was on. "I think I have to go back to Avebury."

"What? Why?"

"When we were leaving, the stones spoke to me."

"And?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's going to sound silly."

"Give over!" I was in no mood for dawdling, not now, so close to the end of everything.

"They wanted to teach me a spell. Or -- not a spell, as such, but something that could help us against You Know Who."

I sat up straighter in my seat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd Seen anything about it."

I flinched. What was I supposed to do, tell him that in the future, he, his sister, and his wife would more or less refuse to ever talk about the final battle? "No . . . but that doesn't mean you shouldn't go."

"You think I should?" He looked relieved.

"Absolutely." How could it hurt, after all?

"What should I do when I get there?"

I stifled an urge to sigh. "Just lay your hands on a stone -- whichever one you feel is right -- and wait for it to speak."

"That's it?"

I thought back to the ritual we'd performed. "Remind them of who you are, and what you've done. They'll help you."

"Cheers, Susan. Tell Harry I've nicked his Invisibility Cloak." Without another word, he ran up to his dorm, and soon after, I saw the portrait-hole open and close seemingly without reason. I did sigh then; Ron could be so impetuous at times.

I'd have told Harry about the Cloak, but he was nowhere to be found. That was often the case lately; that combined with the fact that my mother hadn't made it back to our dorm a few nights now reminded me that I hadn't come from a cabbage patch. The less I thought about that, though, the better.

Ron returned a couple hours later and made a beeline for me. He was flushed and out of breath. "It's brilliant," he said. "Abso-bloody-lutely brilliant."

I stood up and steered him over to a quiet corner. "What did they tell you?"

"They taught me -- what did they call it? -- a word of power."

I stumbled back a little at that. When I'd lived with Ron and Hermione that one summer, I'd heard him teasing her by telling her that he'd "use the word of power" on their vegetable garden, and she'd smacked him and told him to stop being an arse. I hadn't asked about it then, but now I was all ears. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Well, I went there, and I felt like a prat just standing there trying to talk to the stones, y'know? I walked around and looked at them all, and finally I just climbed up on one of them. Then I think I dozed off for a bit, and then something sort of woke me up. But I was also still asleep, in a way. You know?"

I did know. I thought back to the time I thought I'd seen my father on the night of my eighth birthday, in that same in-between state of wake and sleep. Sometimes, on the brink like that, the mind accepted reality as it would a fragment of a dream, or vice versa. "Yeah."

"So I was half-asleep, and the stone said, 'We remember you.' And I said, 'Me and my mates did a ritual here a couple weeks ago.' And it said, 'You were us, and we were you.' And it felt like someone had walked right over my grave, but I said, 'Yes, thanks for letting us have that metal thing.'"

I couldn't help it; I giggled. "I'm sure they were charmed by you," I managed to get out.

He grinned. "I think they quite liked me, actually. My rock said, 'It was right; it was fitting. And you, quick little child made of water and bone, you are one of us.'"

I sucked in my breath. "I'm no expert on stone circles, but I do believe that's a compliment."

"It sounded like one," he said smugly. "So I thanked it. And I told it, 'I'm fighting the Dark wizards and witches right now. Can you help me?' So the stone told me, 'If you speak this word to the earth, it will respond. It must respond. Use it wisely.' And it told me the word."

"What is it?"

He shook his head. "First of all, it's not . . . human. I don't know how well I'll be able to pronounce it. Secondly, if I said it, I'm afraid Hogwarts would fall in on our heads."

I nodded. "Save it for the battle."

"Only two weeks away!" he said, almost cheerily. When I looked startled, he had the good grace to look chagrined. "Harry told me and Hermione when you told him."

"Hmph," was all I could think to say. Then a stray memory hit me, and I ran for my bookbag before it left me. What had Luna said about the final battle?

"Susan?" Ron said, sounding confused.

"Shh!" I cried. I flipped open my Divination textbook to the appendix containing the hexagrams of the I Ching. I knew I'd recognize it if I saw it.

"Thirty-four . . . thirty-five . . . ha! Thirty-six! This is it!" I cried.

Ron strode over. "What are you on about?"

"Read that last line." I jabbed my finger at the page. "'Not light but darkness. First he climbed up to heaven, then plunged into the DEPTHS of the EARTH.'"

Ron looked at me in astonishment. "What is this?"

I decided to gloss over Luna's role in the process. "I Divined the course of the final battle, and this is what the I Ching told me!" At his bemused look, I explained, "It's an Eastern Divination technique. But I think this is it! I think this 'depths of the earth' business means you! You're going to use this word of power, and old You Know Who will just be sucked down into oblivion."

Ron frowned. "But it's Harry's job to defeat You Know Who."

I nodded. "I know. But this is going to be key, I can tell. Just promise me that no matter what, you'll use it when the time comes."

He nodded too, though he looked a little baffled.

Things were moving fast. The day that Hogwarts would be attacked would be the end of it all, but I couldn't let my knowledge go to waste. I went up to the Headmistress' office one day about a week before the end.

She opened the door for me when I knocked and let me inside. The portrait of Dumbledore on the wall waved merrily at me, and I waved back. "Hello, sir," I said.

"I think I can guess who you are . . . or who you'll be," Dumbledore's portrait said.

When I looked startled, McGonagall smiled. "I told him about you, Potter."

"Oh. Ma'am, I have to warn you about something."

"Yes?" she said. "Your parents going to go traipsing over to Wales again?" Again I started; again she smiled. "Don't think I'm as ignorant of your movements as you'd wish me to be. I've put you all on a very long leash, because I believe what Harry and his band have been doing is absolutely necessary. But I do not care to remain in the dark about it."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "If you please, ma'am, on the night of the thirtieth, you should cancel any Astronomy lessons or outdoor detentions."

Now it was her turn to look startled. "What do you know, Miss Potter?"

"I know the Death Eaters are coming here. But whoever remains inside the castle will be unharmed."

At this, McGonagall rose from her chair, nearly toppling it. "Death Eaters? Here? Again?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We must send the students home." She began looking around, ostensibly for a way to sound some sort of alarm.

"No, ma'am," I said, becoming alarmed. "You don't do that."

"Whyever not?" she cried.

"Voldemort musn't know that we know of his plans," I said quellingly. "And no one is in any danger if they stay inside."

"And what of the students who won't?"

"If you make sure everyone is inside when they come, then the only ones outside will be the ones who choose to be there," I said solemnly. "Ron, Harry, Hermione -- they're all of age. You can't stop them."

"Miss Potter, while they are students in my school, I can protect them in any way necessary. And if the Death Eaters are coming here, I refuse to present them with a schoolful of sitting ducks!"

"Minerva," said Dumbledore's calm voice. We both turned to face his portrait. "You are forgetting that for Miss Potter, all of this is old history. If she says that the students will not be harmed, you must believe her."

"What if she's wrong??"

"It's not a matter of right and wrong; it's simply a matter of past and future. Time only happens once; if the Death Eaters did not breach our walls, then they cannot. They will not. Trust her, Minerva."

"Albus, you seem far too willing to entrust our students' lives to the word of a young girl."

"No, I'm just mindful of the alternative. Susan is correct; if you were to send the students home, Voldemort would rewrite his plans. Since he does not do that, you must keep them here."

"But how am I to ensure their safety?" McGonagall almost wailed.

"Gather them in the Great Hall," Dumbledore suggested. "Have a dance, a concert, an assembly. Anything to keep them in your sight."

She sat down again heavily. "A . . . dance?"

"Susan, may I ask what time Tom's friends will be joining us?" Dumbledore's voice was light, as if he were discussing a tea party.

"As the sun sets," I said.

"A little before six, then," Dumbledore mused. "Schedule something for five o'clock; make sure all the children are in the Great Hall, and station your Prefects at the doors to prevent any of the students from slipping out."

"Perhaps a banquet," McGonagall said, getting into the spirit a little.

"Perfect," Dumbledore said. "Think of an excuse, book a band, and you're all set. Susan, thank you for your assistance."

"Not at all," I said quickly, and waved good-bye to them as I slipped out.

By the next day, there were notices all over the school that the Weird Sisters would be playing at the Hogwarts Mid-Term Feast on the evening of April 30th. Everyone was aflutter; they didn't know why McGonagall had decided to treat us to this evening, but no one cared to inquire too much. But that evening at dinner, the three heroes did inquire . . . of me, of course.

"Did you tip her off?" Hermione hissed.

"Of course I did," I said calmly, buttering a scone. "Everyone has to be indoors when they come."

"Except us," Ron offered.

"Precisely," I said. "I'm afraid you'll be missing the concert."

"Should we tell the other members of the D.A.?" mused Hermione.

"No," Harry said quickly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Stop thinking about my sister for a moment, mate, and think about everyone else. This is what you trained them for."

"I didn't train them so they could die like Luna," Harry gritted.

"They want to fight," Hermione said softly. "You have to let them."

"Fine, if you two are so damn sure that everything will be a piece of cake, then you tell them." He stood up angrily and stormed off.

"Should we tell them?" Hermione asked me after Harry was out of earshot.

I started a little at this, not really knowing the answer. I decided to wing it. "I think you're right, Hermione; they did train for this. You have to let them have the opportunity."

She nodded. "I'll start spreading the word. Ron, you want to talk to Dean and Seamus?"

He nodded. "Make sure the people you tell keep it sealed up tight, though," he said. "Everyone else has to go to the concert."

"Of course," she said, clearly a little irritated that Ron had thought to mention this before she could.

"If we start now, maybe everyone will really be ready for those bloody Death Eaters," Ron said hopefully.

I smiled at his optimism and hoped he was right.

The days wore on until the night of the 29th, when Neville and I decided to spend the night stargazing just out of the Whomping Willow's reach.

We lay on the grass together, wrapped up in a blanket I'd stolen from the common room, my head on his chest. After a while lying in silence, I pointed up at a bright grouping of stars. "I was pretty terrible at Astronomy, but I think those stars go together."

"I wasn't good at it either," Neville confessed. "Let's invent a constellation."

"Okay. Well, it's obviously a flowering shrub."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"See how it sort of splays out?" I gestured grandly with the arm that wasn't pinned under Neville. "Shrub. Flowering shrub."

"Whatever you say," he said, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Neville?" I asked, and wished my voice weren't trembling so.

"Susan?"

"Will you . . . will you look up at the sky once in a while? And find our constellation?"

He turned so he was on his side facing me, and I did the same. I saw tears brimming in his eyes, but he didn't let them spill. "Every night, if you like."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Once in a while."

He kissed me, and I clung to him for a while. When we got too cold to remain outside, we snuck back to the common room. At the bottom of the stairs to my dorm, I clutched his hand a little tighter.

"Will I see you again?" His voice was gruffer than usual, and I wondered if this was how he would sound when he was older.

"No," I said, and felt the word rush through me like fast-acting poison.

He reached out and ran a hand through my hair. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch without meaning to. Then we kissed for -- I couldn't help thinking -- one last time.

"Good night, love," Neville said, locking eyes with me.

"Good night," I whispered, and backed up the stairs, not breaking his gaze until the last possible moment. In the dorm, I cried soundlessly into my pillow. I didn't sleep a wink.