Chapter Three

For Whom the Wedding Bell Tolls

As expected, the news about the letters from the Ministry did not sit well with either Mr. or Mrs. Weasley. Harry presented the letter he'd received to Mrs. Weasley, who read it, all the while swelling with outrage and indignation.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE THEY DOING AT THE MINISTRY," she shouted after reading the letter. "SPYING FULL TIME ON HARRY?!"

Mr. Weasley was calmer but no less angry. "I didn't think things like this would be a problem after Rufus Scrimgeour took over as Minister," he said grimly. "He's a tough but fair man. But this –" he slapped the letter with his free hand "– this smacks of Cornelius Fudge's work, if he was still there. Or Dolores Umbridge."

"That's just what we thought," Ron said quickly. "That it was Dolores Umbridge's doing somehow."

"What happened to Fudge?" Harry asked. "I thought Scrimgeour kept him on in an advisory capacity after he took over."

"Fudge took his fall from power rather badly, after all," Mr. Weasley replied. "After the transition to his administration was complete, Scrimgeour all but ignored him, all the while trying to get Harry to side with the Ministry against Dumbledore – "

"Which wasn't going to happen," Harry added grimly.

"Yes, well… what was inexplicable," Mr. Weasley continued, "was that, just before he was sacked, Fudge was trying to get Dumbledore to convince you, Harry, to voice your support for the Ministry. Mind you, this was after he'd tried to have you expelled and after all that bad business with Dolores Umbridge coming into Hogwarts as High Inquisitor and taking over as Head of the school." Mr. Weasley shook his balding, red-topped head. "Why he thought Dumbledore wouldn't see through that ploy in a moment is anyone's guess. Fudge was never much good at reading people."

"Well, it gets better," Hermione cut in hesitantly. "Because after we left Harry's house we had a, er – an 'encounter' with his cousin Dudley and several of his Muggle friends."

Both of the elder Weasleys' eyes widened in surprise, then Mr. Weasley sighed wearily as Mrs. Weasley's lips set in a thin line. Abashed, Hermione looked away. "They were trying to pick a fight with Harry," she finally continued as they listened intently. "But he didn't do anything then, either!" she added quickly. "When Dudley and his friend grabbed Harry, the others went for us, and we –" she paused, choosing her next words carefully "– we defended ourselves against them. Then, these came to the Burrow later," she brought out her own letter from the Ministry, handing it to Mr. Weasley, who looked at it for a moment, then at Hermione again.

"'These' letters, you say?" he asked quietly. "Is there another one?"

Ron slowly brought out his own letter, handing it to his mother. She took it and looked at her husband, shaking her head. They both opened the letters and began reading.

"Well, nothing remarkable there, really," Mr. Weasley said gamely a few moments later. "Although all these letters make use of unproven assumptions about the presence of Muggles – unless there was an independent eyewitness, of course."

"Arthur, this is just ridiculous!" Mrs. Weasley said loudly, throwing Ron's letter onto the table, where it landed in the gravy; Ron hastily retrieved it and wiped it off. "I can see Fudge playing politics, but what's Scrimgeour's game? It's almost like the Ministry is turning against us!"

"Molly, the Ministry isn't for or against us," Mr. Weasley said patiently. "They're supposed to be for the law. Although, I confess, they seem to be doing a rather poor job of standing up for it lately."

Ginny spoke up for the first time since dinner started. "What can Harry do about his letter, then?"

"He'll have to be at that hearing, of course," Mr. Weasley said. "All of you will," he added, including Ron and Hermione with a nod. "Just as Harry will have to be at yours. When is your hearing, Ron?"

"At 4 p.m. on August 5th," Ron replied, checking his letter.

"Good, they're scheduled close together," Mr. Weasley said, thinking. "I don't think Scrimgeour has ever filled the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department. I'm sure he'd want an Auror with considerable experience there."

"But what if they hold this hearing in front of the Wizards' Court?" Ron asked, his voice quavering. "That's what they did to Harry the last time, changed it so he had to stand in front of the full court!"

"You may have a better chance in front of the Wizengamot than in front of Scrimgeour," Mr. Weasley said soberly. "If this is his doing he could press every advantage in a small closed-door hearing. In front of the full Court, however, he'll have to abide by the majority opinion. We'll have to see if Kingsley Shacklebolt can come up with any details of the hearings for us."

Fleur, who had been silent up until now, finally asked, "Zo, is thees 'ow British law works? Is the Meenistry of Magic zo concerned about underage magic zat zey ignore ze crimes of Dark wizards in favor of prosecuting teenagers?"

"Fleur, I assure you it is not how the law works here," Mr. Weasley said at once. "But no system is perfect."

"In France," Fleur said haughtily, "we would not concern ouzelves with whether a teenager was cleaning his room weeth magic or not."

"Well, it's not quite that simple, my dear," Mr. Weasley said patiently.

"And Harry didn't do anything anyway!" Ginny snapped. "The problem is with the lot enforcing the laws, not the laws themselves!"

"But they're the ones making the laws," Ron pointed out. "The best laws in the world won't do much good if they aren't enforced properly."

"Everyone just calm down," Mr. Weasley held his hands up as Ron and Ginny continued to argue. Harry watched in mild fascination; Fleur had said something that had provoked Hermione, who was now launching into a discussion of the equality of laws over species boundaries such as elves, giants, goblins and centaurs. Harry spared a glance at Fleur's younger sister, Gabrielle, who had not spoken at all during dinner. Catching her eye, he rolled his eyes at the proceedings; she hid a giggle behind her hand then smiled at him.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Mrs. Weasley's outburst put an end to all discussions, and after a moment of silence she added with barely controlled temper, "Ron, I want you to start cleaning off the table as soon as we're through. Ginny, you'll wash the dishes. Both of you will dry."

"But — " Ron and Ginny both began.

"I AM NOT ASKING FOR YOUR OPINIONS!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, cutting them both off. "YOU'RE DOING DISHES AND THAT'S FINAL! AND NO MAGIC, RON!" Then in a perfectly normal voice she said to the others, "Would you dears minding staying out of the kitchen while they work? I'd like them to have as few distractions as possible."

A short time later Harry was in Ron's bedroom; it was the only place in the house he could avoid, at least for the time being, any further questions about the letters. Mr. Weasley was writing a letter to Remus Lupin at the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters in number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius's old house which he'd bequeathed to Harry along with everything in it including, unfortunately, his house-elf Kreacher, who loathed Harry and all things to do with the Order. Only the fact that he was bound to serve his master (Harry now that Sirius was dead) kept him from running to be with Bellatrix Lestrange, whom Kreacher had desired to be his mistress.

There was a soft knock on the door and at Harry's quiet "Come in" Hermione slipped into the room, closing it behind her. She sat down on Ron's bed and after a moment, said in a low voice, "I wonder sometimes what it would be like to live in this house full-time. She seems to give Ron and Ginny a harder time than she does any of us."

Harry shrugged. "Even at her worst she's a dozen times better than my aunt and uncle," he said simply.

"I suppose so." Hermione looked at him intently, and after a few moments Harry raised his eyebrows at her in silent inquiry.

"What will this do to your plans to find You-Know-Who and the you-know-whats?" she finally said breathlessly.

Harry had been thinking about that himself this afternoon. "Nothing," he said at once.

"What do you mean, 'nothing?' " Hermione asked, perplexed and indignant. "If these are trumped-up charges and you don't beat them, your wand's destroyed and you can never buy another one. That means you can never find any you-know-whats or locate You-Know-Who!"

"And that means," Harry replied quietly, "That I can't lose my wand, whether the hearing goes my way or not. I spent all last year learning about Voldemort –" He ignored Hermione's flinch at the name – "and now that he's d-dead, I can't let everything he's done to stop Voldemort go to waste. I have no choice."

"We always have choices, Harry." Hermione looked at him sternly. "Remember what you told me Dumbledore said, a long time ago? He said we all have to make choices between what is right, and what is easy?"

"I remember," Harry said calmly. "And I hope that the right way is what works. But one way or another, I have to put a stop to Voldemort."

Hermione said nothing. She looked intensely unhappy. "I know that, too," she said finally. I-I just wonder if you're really ready for that."

Harry laughed. "No, I'm not. Voldemort's probably the most powerful Dark wizard in the world. Dumbledore was the only wizard he ever feared, and now he's – dead." He stood suddenly and walked to the window, looking at the path that led to the road where the Knight Bus had dropped them off. The sun was low in the sky, Harry could see the lengthening shadow of the house stretching before him. He turned back to Hermione. "Common sense says I haven't got a chance against Voldemort. But Dumbledore thought I did, and I'll back his play against what anyone else says." Harry sighed heavily. A deep sadness had come over him. "I just wish he wasn't – wasn't … gone," he finished, his voice breaking.

Hermione looked at him a moment, stricken, her eyes beginning to tear up; she leaped up suddenly and hugged him fiercely. Harry broke down, finally, sobbing onto her shoulder as she held him tightly.

"I-I couldn't do anything," Harry whispered, his eyes tightly shut as if that would hold the tears back. But they came anyway, running down his face and onto Hermione's shoulder. "Dumbledore had put a Full Body Bind spell on me. I still don't know why he did that! He ch-chatted with Malfoy and the Death Eaters like they were at afternoon tea, like none of them were intent on killing him. And I had to watch S-Snape … " he couldn't say it again. Hermione was rubbing his back and murmuring words of comfort. They stood that way for what seemed like a very long time.

Neither of them was aware of the door opening and closing until Ron said, mildly, "Anything I need to know about you two?" Harry stepped back quickly, wiping his eyes, as Hermione shot Ron a disgusted look.

"Harry was just remembering the night Dumbledore died," she said tartly. Ron's mouth made a small "o" as the import of that sunk home.

"Well," he said quickly, deciding to ignore what he'd walked in on, "Mum's off the warpath, at least for a while. I guess she worked it out on Ginny and me.

"Dad wrote Lupin and gave him the details of what we told him and what our letters said we were charged with. Assuming it's not a set-up, we should be able to sort it out pretty easily, he thinks. I dunno what Lupin can do other than get Kingsley Shacklebolt to nose around at the Ministry and get the details of what's up."

Harry had walked slowly back to his camp bed while Ron was saying this. He sat down and looked at Ron, his eyes red. "I'm not going to give up my wand, Ron," he said flatly. "I have to finish what I started first."

"Well, of course you're not going to give up your wand!" Ron agreed. He sat on his own bed and regarded Harry silently for a few moments. Hermione looked back and forth between them then quietly sat down beside Ron. "You know we're still with you, mate, whatever they try to do to us."

Harry nodded. It was not something he'd wanted, at first, Ron and Hermione risking their lives in his effort to destroy Voldemort. The more he'd thought about it, though, the more he'd come to see that he could no more deny them the opportunity to help him make things right than they could deny him his own determination to see it through to the end. To continue on with the tasks Dumbledore had prepared him for.

"It's not going to be easy," Harry said, his voice low and grim. "We have no idea where those Horcruxes might be, or even how many there are, exactly. There might be three, might be four. Even Dumbledore wasn't sure, and he'd been trying to find out for years."

"There's Hufflepuff's cup," Hermione recited the list. "And Slytherin's locket, something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, and You-Know-Who's snake, Nagini."

"That's the most likely list," Harry said, nodding. He withdrew the fake locket, the one he and Dumbledore had found in the cave they'd visited just before Dumbledore's death. "Whoever R.A.B. was, he's the last person we know had the locket, and it said in the note he left in the locket that he'd be dead by the time Voldemort got back to this locket. I don't know if he destroyed it; I think Dumbledore felt he would have used the locket as a bargaining chip if he'd been confronted by Voldemort."

Hermione was staring into space, a look of concentration on her face. "How do we research such a thing as a Horcrux?" she wondered aloud. "There was only one reference in the entire Hogwarts library, and it just said the subject wasn't going to be discussed! How do you find out about something nobody wants to talk about?"

Ron looked at her. "You go where they do want to talk about it." She looked at him blankly for a moment, then comprehension dawned on her face.

"You don't mean we should go into Knockturn Alley?" she said, looking a little frightened.

"Knockturn Alley," Harry repeated. He remembered the first time he'd been there, when he'd first used the Floo Network and overshot his destination in Diagon Alley. He'd ended up in the fireplace at Borgin & Burkes, and had seen Draco Malfoy and his father in there as he'd hidden in a cabinet watching them talk to the proprietor, Mr. Borgin. They'd also followed Malfoy down that street last year and had watched him talk to Borgin about (they later found out) the Vanishing Cabinets, one of which was in Borgin's shop, the other one being at Hogwarts. Malfoy had found a way to repair the broken cabinet at Hogwarts and bring Death Eaters into the school. The result was an attack that left Ron's older brother Bill severely mauled, Dumbledore dead, and the future of the school uncertain. Knockturn Alley was dangerous, largely unknown to those who avoided delving into the Dark arts, and overall it was best steered clear of. But it was their best chance, Harry saw instinctively, of finding out the knowledge they needed.

"You aren't really seriously thinking about going in there, are you?" Hermione asked incredulously. At the look of resolve on Harry's face she exclaimed, "You are! Oh Harry, think of the risks involved! If anyone figures out we're looking for ways to destroy You-Know-Who —"

"We won't be going in there with "I'm Going to Destroy You-Know-Who" buttons pinned to our robes, will we?" Ron said sarcastically.

"Well, won't it be obvious from the questions we'll be asking?" Hermione said shrilly. " 'By the way, sir, you wouldn't happen to have anything on how to destroy Horcruxes, would you?' "

"Don't be thick —" Ron began.

"I'm not being thick!" Hermione said angrily. "Ron, people aren't stupid! They're going to make connections when we – when Harry – starts asking questions about Dark Arts. Remember last year, the Daily Prophet kept writing about how Harry might be the Chosen One! People in the Dark Arts read the paper too, you know! They know he's supposed to be the one who'll kill You-Know-Who! They may want to kill him first, just on the off-chance it'll keep them safe!"

"But that's not going to stop me from killing Voldemort," Harry said quietly. Hermione winced again at the name, then looked at Harry with a fierce despair. It almost seemed as if she would cry.

"I know that!" she said, her voice trembling. "Oh, Harry, I am so afraid for you! It's that stupid prophecy! Why couldn't it have foretold that Professor Dumbledore was the one who would kill You-Know-Who, or somebody else… anyone else…" her voice trailed off as she put her face in her hands, sobbing silently.

Ron looked completely embarrassed, but Harry, who'd broken down in front of Hermione just a few minutes before, walked over and put his hands gently on her forearms, slowly pulling them away from her face. When she looked up into his eyes, her own shining with tears, he said, "I wish it could be that way, too," he said simply, with a small, bitter smile. "I would have had a lot better year at Hogwarts having you help me study for N.E.W.T.s, playing Quidditch with Ron and snogging Ginny between classes." Ron rolled his eyes but neither Harry nor Hermione noticed. She smiled, just a little bit; this heartened Harry and made him feel better about what he had to say next.

"I have to go after Voldemort, you know," he went on, and while Hermione stopped smiling her tears were drying. "Whatever else life has in store for me, whatever else I may do, or not do, I have to see this through. Not because it was foretold in some prophecy long ago, not because people think I'm the Chosen One, not even because Dumbledore said I would be the one to do it, but because I think it is the right thing for me to do.

"At first, I didn't think you and Ron should be involved. It was too dangerous, I figured. You were both too important to me for me to ask you to risk your lives." Ron started to open his mouth to protest, but as one Harry and Hermione held out their hands to silence him. "But I need you. I need you both. You've helped me all these years, I really owe most of I've learned to you, Hermione. Without you I probably wouldn't have passed a single O.W.L.

"Ron's been my best mate practically since we met each other. We've seen each other through a lot; he and you have been more like family to me than my aunt and uncle ever were.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I can't be shut of you, so I hope you'll help me as much as you can, to do what needs to be done."

Hermione stared at Harry for several long moments, then flung herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Letting go, she turned to Ron and ran into his arms, catching him off-guard in a fierce embrace. Looking over her shoulder, Ron gave Harry a slightly bewildered look, as if he hadn't quite caught up with them, but he finally smiled in thanks at Harry's words for him. Harry smiled in return.

Hermione released Ron then stepped away, holding his hand, and reached out for Harry's, who took hers. "We'll always remember this moment," she said softly, squeezing both their hands. "The moment we all agreed to fight – and to beat –" she took a deep breath – "Lord Voldemort."

Then they both turned and said, "Oh Ron, get a grip," as Ron flinched.

--

They all stayed up late that evening, talking about the upcoming wedding, Fred and George's newest joke developments, and what they'd heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were doing for the Order of the Phoenix. Ginny joined them after a while and they spent some time playing Exploding Snap until Mrs. Weasley, annoyed and trying to sleep in the early morning hours after a late night of getting the house ready for guests (Charley was due in from Romania Friday night as were Fleur and Gabrielle's parents, from France), chased Hermione and Ginny out of Ron's room and ordered them all to get some sleep.

Harry's sleep that night was dominated by a dream in which Harry approached Mr. Weasley, who asked if he was thinking of visiting them again. Harry snarled at him and ran into the garden, where the guests were gathered for the wedding, but it was Ron and Hermione who were being married, not Bill and Fleur. Ginny jumped up and told him to stop but he ran around her and began tearing at guests' clothes until Moody and Lupin yelled at him to stop. He leapt at them, the last he saw was their wands pointing at him –

There was a jolt and Harry found himself on the floor besides his bed. Harry blinked; the room was a dark blur, but he could hear Ron snoring on his bed a few feet away. Getting slowly to his feet, rubbing an elbow that had banged against the floor, Harry rolled back onto the camp bed, pulled the cover back over himself and fell back asleep.

The next day Harry and Ron had a lie-in, which annoyed Hermione and Ginny, who had to help Mrs. Weasley with the cleaning and garden decorations without their help while Fleur dashed about the house getting ready for her parents' arrival and annoying everyone else with nitpicking instructions that became shriller as the day wore on. By the early afternoon Harry and Ron gave up trying to play wizards' chess, snagged their brooms and went out to the paddock to practice some Quidditch just to be away from the house for a while.

A few hours later, tired and bored, they landed at the edge of the paddock and flopped on the ground to rest a bit. "You're getting better at Keeping, mate," Harry said, praising Ron's performance. "I only got two of the last ten shots I made."

"You made some really good shots too," Ron said, complimenting Harry in turn. "I really had to stretch for a couple of those."

"The ones you missed, you mean," Harry laughed, lying back on the ground. "Ouch!" he said as his elbow banged a rock.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"Oh, nothing. I hit my elbow falling out of bed last night."

"You fell out of bed last night?" Ron said, surprised. "I thought I would have heard that."

"Your snoring probably drowned out the noise," Harry laughed, teasing him.

"So why'd you fall out, then? Were you having a dream or something?" Ron asked shrewdly. Harry hesitated. There had been a dream, he remembered. He recounted it as best he remembered as Ron grew more and more concerned.

"Blimey," Ron said finally, after Harry had finished. "It almost sounds like you were seeing things through You-Know-Who's eyes again."

"It didn't feel like that," Harry disagreed. "It wasn't Voldemort, that's not his style. I felt – wilder, more out of control, than I do with him."

There was a shout from the house as Ginny yelled at them to come in for dinner, and Ron and Harry both stood. "Maybe you should tell Dad about your dream," Ron suggested as they walked back toward the Burrow.

"Nah," Harry dismissed the idea. "Your dad has loads more things to worry about than my dreams."

Ron said nothing, but he looked unhappy all the way back to the house.

Harry had the dream again that night, exactly as he had the night before, except that he didn't roll off the bed onto the floor when he woke at the end. What did make him start, though, was when he turned and saw Ron sitting on the side of his bed staring at him.

"What?" Harry asked, taken aback.

"You were growling in your sleep," Ron said. "You were having that dream again, weren't you?" he added in an almost accusing tone.

"Yeah, it was the same dream."

"I think we should tell Dad and Mum in the morning," Ron said flatly. "The same dream twice in a row means something, Harry."

"Maybe we should send it to Professor Trelawney so she can predict my death again," Harry said sarcastically.

"Maybe she would," Ron grumbled stubbornly. "But that doesn't mean it's not worth saying something about."

"Fine." Harry rolled back over and pulled the cover back over him. "Until then I'll be asleep, thank you very much."

"Fine!" Ron repeated, annoyed at Harry's attitude. He slid back under the covers himself. There was a long silence, then Ron said, "Harry."

"What?" Harry's voice filtered out from under his cover.

"I just don't want something bad to happen. You know?"

"I know. Let's get some sleep, we can tell your mum and dad in the morning."

Only moments later, it seemed to Harry, he was being roused by Ron urging him to get a move on and get up so they could talk to Mr. Weasley before he left for work. Harry rolled blearily out of his bed, putting on a pair of slippers, and he and Ron padded down the twisty steps to the Burrow's kitchen where Ron's parents greeted them with some surprise.

"Well, this is unusual!" Mrs. Weasley said, looking at them almost in shock. "You two up before lunch? Will wonders never cease?" With a chuckle she set to fixing each of them a plate of eggs, sausages and toast.

"Good morning, boys!" Mr. Weasley beamed at them as he polished off the last of his own breakfast. "Nice to see you up this early for a change. The ghoul didn't wake you up, did he?" There was a ghoul in the Burrow's attic; it had become annoyed with the high level of activity in the house lately, and had taken to throwing things around in the attic at odd hours of the day and night.

"No, haven't heard him for a while," Ron muttered sleepily. "Dad, can we have a word before you go?"

"Certainly, certainly?" Mr. Weasley looked at both of them. "What's up?" Harry looked at Ron who made a gesture to go ahead. Harry retold the details of his dream to Mr. Weasley who listened with growing interest.

Finally, when Harry was done, he said, "Interesting. Same dream two days in a row, eh? It's strange that it's you doing those things in the dream, Harry. I don't expect you plan on disrupting the wedding tomorrow, do you?"

"No, sir," Harry said emphatically.

Mrs. Weasley, who had stopping to listen to Harry recount his dream, now put a plate in front of him and Ron each and said worriedly to Mr. Weasley, "Arthur, you know quite of few of Harry's dreams have come true in some way. It may not be him, but I feel something's going to happen tomorrow myself."

Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful. "I'm inclined to trust your instincts as well as Harry's dreams, m'dear." He rose and gathered up his things for work, gave Mrs. Weasley a peck and turned to Harry. "I'm glad you told us, Harry. We can take a few precautions for the wedding, I'm sure it's better to be safe than sorry. Bye, Molly dear." Mr. Weasley hurried out past the garden gate and Apparated to work.

Behind Harry, Mrs. Weasley laid a hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, dear," she said quietly, "Arthur and I appreciate you letting us know when things like this happen. And it's probably nothing," she said with an airy wave of her hand that didn't fool Harry a bit. "Just a bit of restlessness in the heat. Nothing to worry about, I'm sure." She turned back to her cooking, but Harry saw in her sudden quietness and the slump of her shoulders that Mrs. Weasley was worried about the wedding.

At the table, Ron had pushed away his plate and was yawning and stretching mightily. "We may as well turn back in for a while," he said to Harry. "Charlie will be in later tonight – I can't wait to hear what he's been about off in Romania." He started to get up but Mrs. Weasley had spun around and fixed him with a stern look.

"You'll be off to some chores I have for you, Ronald Bilius Weasley!" She smiled at Harry. "If you're still tired, Harry, you can lie in a while longer – I'll have Ron wake you up for lunch."

Ron had wilted back into his chair, but Harry looked at him gamely and said, "I'm not sleepy any more, Mrs. Weasley. I can help Ron.

"Right, then. Accio Chores List!" Mrs. Weasley said, flicking her wand toward the doorway. A moment later a scroll of parchment flew into the room and into her hand. "We can start with you raking out the yard…"

It was well into the afternoon before they finished with the jobs Mrs. Weasley had lined up for them. Ron grumbled a bit at having to clean up the yard and de-gnome the garden for the wedding, but Harry didn't mind the work – it distracted him for a time from thinking about what he'd be doing after the wedding – and from worrying about what might happen at his or Hermione and Ron's hearings. Mrs. Weasley brought them chilled pumpkin juice while they worked, and just as they'd finished the last of the de-gnoming she called them in for dinner. They both ate as if starved, alone in the kitchen as Hermione, Ginny and the Delacour girls had eaten an hour earlier. Then Mrs. Weasley shooed them out of the kitchen so she could begin supper, which she complained would take her the rest of the day since she was feeding "practically an army this evening," as she put it.

Ron and Harry disappeared up into Ron's room where they both collapsed on their beds, satiated and feeling rather torpid in the midday heat. Ron finally suggested a game of wizards' chess and he and Harry played for a while, listening to the thuds and banging from the attic as the ghoul stomped about and knocked over things, annoyed by intermittent giggling and laughter from Ginny's room where Hermione and Ginny were dressing Gabrielle in different clothes.

"Have you ever gone up and had a look?" Harry asked, looking up at the ceiling as the ghoul stomped particularly hard after a burst of laughter from Ginny's room.

Ron shrugged. Harry noticed he was avoiding Harry's gaze. "You're not still afraid of it, are you?" he asked shrewdly.

"Me? Naw," Ron dismissed the idea. "It's harmless, and Mum likes that it keeps the moth population down."

"Shall we go have a look, then?" Harry asked, partly from boredom (Ron was winning the game, as usual) and partly from curiosity as well as enjoying the opportunity to make Ron squirm. Ron looked up at him quickly.

"A look? It's just a ruddy ghoul, Harry." But there was a hint of alarm in his eyes, Harry thought. "But, I suppose we can take a peek, if you insist –"

"Oy! Ron! Harry!" Ginny's voice came up the stairwell. "Charlie's here!" The game and the ghoul forgotten, they scrambled to their feet and ran down the steps to see Ron's second oldest brother who was in from Romania, where he worked with dragons. Ginny was hanging on him as he greeted Hermione and Gabrielle and gave Fleur a small hug. Seeing Ron and Harry he turned to them.

"Hey, Ron," Charlie said, putting an arm around Ron's shoulders. Ron was as tall as Charlie now. "Hi Harry." They shook hands. "Are you two holding your own around here with a houseful of women?"

"Charlie!" Ginny squealed reproachfully. "They haven't done hardly a thing all week to help!"

"Oh you liar," Ron retorted. "We've been out roasting in the yard all day cleaning up while you were playing dress-up with Gabrielle!"

"We did loads of work this morning, I'll have you know, Ron," Hermione said tartly, walking over to join them. "We got rooms cleaned and ready for everyone staying here tonight and helped your mother prepare some vegetables for tonight's meal."

"So where am I staying?" Charlie asked, looked at Ginny.

"We fixed you up in Percy's bedroom," Ginny said, looking at Hermione.

"Ah," Charlie said, noting the glance that passed between Ron and Harry as well as his younger sister and Hermione. "And how is brother Percy these days?"

"Still the world's biggest prat," Ron muttered darkly.

"Ron, no more of that!" Mrs. Weasley, who'd just come into the room, snapped at him. "Oh, Charlie!" she cried, hugging her second son, then looking at his rough, bruised hands, she chided him, "Haven't you found anyone to settle down with and take care of you yet?"

"Not yet, Mum," Charlie laughed, pinching her cheek playfully. "You're still my best girl, you know." She giggled like a schoolgirl and behind her, Ron stuck his finger in his throat, miming gagging. Charlie chuckled then asked his mother, "When's Dad supposed to get home?"

"Any time now," she said, looking at the grandfather clock standing against the wall. Instead of having two hands for the time, it had nine, one for each member of the Weasley family, and instead of numbers, there were inscriptions around the face that said things such as "home," "school," "work," "traveling," or even, at the very top, "mortal peril." At the moment Mr. Weasley's hand was pointing at "work."

"He said he would try to be home as early as he could," Mrs. Weasley said, looking back at Charlie. "I hope he hurries, I want him to be home before Bill and Fleur or her parents get here."

Bill arrived a few minutes later, cheerful but tired from a long week at work. He hugged his mother and Ginny, slapped Charlie and Ron on the back, and shook Harry's hand. Harry noticed his face, while no longer looking raw, still bore deep scars from Fenrir Greyback's attack of a few weeks ago. He gave Harry a wink then went off to find Fleur.

Mr. Weasley arrived and was greeted by his wife and the others in the Burrow's living room. "I thought we were never going to get done," he said, somewhat irritably, giving his wife a kiss in greeting and putting away his briefcase. "Scrimgeour's got all departments giving detailed reports of each week's activities. Fortunately, Allerby agreed to cover for me so I could make it home early." He looked around the living room. "Are the Delacours here yet?"

"Not yet," Mrs. Weasley answered. "Bill got here a just a few minutes ago, he's with Fleur right now. Arthur, can I have a word with you? In the kitchen." Mrs. Weasley walked out of the room.

"Yes, dear." But before walking into the kitchen, Mr. Weasley turned to Harry and said in a low voice, "We're also having a special guest for dinner, Harry, he'll be here in a little while."

"Who?" Harry asked at once.

"You'll see," Mr. Weasley said mysteriously. "Got to run." And he hurried into the kitchen as well, leaving Harry mildly annoyed. Why wouldn't people just say things straight out to him rather than being secretive about it?

By the time Mr. and Mrs. Delacour showed up, Harry's stomach was getting a bit rumbly even though he'd been stuffed after dinner. They were an interesting couple: her mother, part veela, was strikingly beautiful, with the same silvery-blonde hair as Fleur and ice-blue eyes with only a hint of age within them. Her husband, however, was short and very plump, with black hair and a little pointed beard. They greeted Fleur and Gabrielle enthusiastically, then each member of the Weasley family in turn, with Fleur's mother kissing each of them on both cheeks. Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley was touching his cheek bemusedly after her greeting, and that Mrs. Weasley was eyeing him with an expression somewhere between amusement and suspicion.

Introductions had finally come around to Harry. "And this," Mr. Weasley said proudly, stepping up to him, "is my son Ron's friend Harry Potter."

At the mention of his name both of them raised an eyebrow. "Ah, 'Arry Potter!" Fleur's father said, shaking his hand. "Fleur 'as said that you wair a friend of Bill's brothair. An 'onor to meet you."

Fleur's mother smiled warmly at him and kissed both of his cheeks. "And Gabrielle 'as mentioned you to us as well," she said softly, her voice a silvery croon. "She is quite taken weeth you, I theenk."

"Er – thank you," Harry said, nodding, not knowing what else to say. He felt a bit giddy, and the last words of Mrs. Delacour were still ringing in his brain.

"Well," Mr. Weasly said, guiding the couple toward the garden. "You've arrived at just the right moment, everything is ready to eat."

The others followed, but Harry stayed rooted to the spot. He felt a bit giddy, and the last words of Mrs. Delacour were still ringing in his brain. He didn't move until a knee hit the back of his leg, almost toppling him over. It was Ginny, who'd stayed behind, watching him.

"Come on, lover boy," she said with a smirk. "Time to eat."

"Um," said Harry distractedly, embarrassed at being caught. "I was just – just –"

"Just come on, then," Ginny said, not sounding so much annoyed as amused. "It's not like I haven't caught Ron staring at Fleur loads of times. It's that veela blood."

Dinner was being held outside, as was usual when there were a large number of guests at the Burrow during the summer months. They had arranged the tables in rows similar to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley had prepared a feast of roasted chicken and ham, bowls of boiled and mashed potatoes as well as cauliflower and corn, platters of rolls and boats of steaming gravy, with platters of celery and carrots and radishes for condiments. Harry sat next to Ron and Hermione, and tucked into his food with gusto. Fleur was talking excitedly with her parents, conversing rapidly in French while Bill listened politely. Harry couldn't tell if Bill knew what she was saying or not. Hermione, however, was sighing as she listened to Fleur.

"I swear," she finally said, annoyed. "You'd think the whole world revolved around her, honestly."

"You understand her?" Harry asked, surprised. "You never told me you could speak French!"

"Vous ne m'avez jamais demandé si je pourrais parler français, Harry," Hermione replied smoothly. "I've just never had much reason to speak it at Hogwarts."

Just then the door of the Burrow opened and a thin, shabbily dressed figure walked into the back yard. Mr. Weasley looked over and gave a wave. "Ah, our mystery guest has arrived!" he said, standing up to join the new arrival. He walked the man over where the Delacours were sitting. "Mr. and Mrs. Delacour, I'd like to introduce you to a good friend of ours, Remus Lupin, from London. Remus, this is Pierre and Apolline Delacour, of Lyons, France." Remus and Mr. Delacour shook hands.

Remus spared a glance towards Harry, who nodded. Ron leaned over and whispered, "D'you think Dad told Remus about your dream, Harry?"

"I'm sure he did," Harry muttered in reply.

"What dream?" Hermione asked, surprised. "You never said anything to me about a dream."

"I just told Ron's dad this morning." Harry briefly told her the dream. She stared at him in a mixture of concern and annoyance.

"And you didn't think that was significant?" she snapped at him.

"It only happened twice before I mentioned it!" Harry retorted. He looked over at Lupin; Mr. Weasley had seated him near the Delacours and Bill was passing him platters of food while he loaded his plate sparingly. Harry went back to cleaning his own plate.

The dinner finished with fresh strawberry shortcake. Ron and Harry both had seconds, then sat back and listened to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley chat with the Delacours about the weeks of preparation for tomorrow's nuptials until a hand fell on Harry's shoulder. It was Lupin.

"May I have a word, Harry?" Lupin asked. Harry nodded and with a look at Ron and Hermione he followed his old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher a short distance away to talk. Harry thought Lupin looked even more tired, more gray and more shabby than the last time Harry had seen him, only a week ago. Lupin turned to face Harry, and his eyes seemed sadder and older than ever. He studied Harry a moment before asking, "How've you been since school ended, Harry?"

"I've been better," Harry said with a plaintive smile.

Lupin managed a chuckle. "I daresay so, with the Ministry on your back and next school year looking so uncertain!" His look turned serious. "We're working on the Ministry problem, we can talk about it next week when we know more, but for now this dream of yours is a concern. Arthur told me the main points, but I'd like to hear the details from you. What happens in your dream?"

Harry told him about meeting Mr. Weasley, snarling at him, then running into the garden where the guests were gathered and slashing and tearing at them, even Ginny, until Moody and Lupin told him to stop, and leaping at them while their wands were pointed at him.

Lupin listened closely, and when Harry finished he asked, "Did you ever look at yourself or notice any part of you while in the dream?"

Harry thought carefully. "No."

"Do you remember how you came into the garden?" Lupin asked.

"From the back. I remember seeing the backs of people as I came up to them," Harry remembered. "I ran all the way to the front where the wedding party was. I remember –" Harry hesitated at this recollection – "I remember seeing Ron and Hermione where the bride and groom should be, instead of Bill and Fleur."

Lupin was silent for several seconds. "Do you remember seeing yourself in the wedding party?"

This question baffled Harry. "No. Why would I see myself, Professor Lupin, if I was the one running up the aisle?"

Instead of answering Lupin asked another question. "Do you remember seeing Bill in the wedding party?" Harry closed his eyes, concentrating on remembering his dream.

"I – I seem to," he said a minute later. "He was standing next to Ron."

"Who else was standing there?" Lupin pressed him.

The images in his head were fuzzy, indistinct, but Harry could just make out the others. "Charlie was there, next to Bill, then Fred and George. And then –" Harry frowned, remembering. "That's weird. Ron is standing next to George. But he's not looking at me, he's looking the other way, away from the wedding party. And his mouth is open, like he's saying or shouting something. Then I turn and leap at you and Moody and everything goes dark." Harry opened his eyes. "So what do you think it means, Professor? Do you think I'll go nutty and attack people at the wedding tomorrow?" He watched Lupin closely to gauge his reaction.

But Lupin only gazed at Harry for long seconds, apparently thinking over these last details. "Oh, I doubt you'd do anything like that, Harry," he said at last. "Willingly or unwillingly. You have a good measure of resistance to the Imperius Curse, you know." Harry nodded; even Voldemort had had difficulty trying to order Harry against his will.

"What I want you to do," Lupin told him, speaking softly but intently. "Is to get a good night's rest, and if you have the dream again tonight to let Mr. Weasley know immediately when you wake up. Will you do that?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"Good man," Lupin said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now I have to be getting back to Grimmauld Place, I have some things to take care of that can't wait. But I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Harry. Moody, Tonks and I will be here, and I'm sure Professor McGonagall has been invited as well. She was quite fond of Bill when he was at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded again, and Lupin turned and walked away, stopping for a moment to lean over and whisper something in Mr. Weasley's ear. Mr. Weasley nodded, and Lupin straightened and Disapparated.

Rejoining Ron and Hermione, Harry told them about the conversation. Both were silent for a few moments, and then Ron said dubiously, "Didn't seem to be much help, did he?"

"No," Harry agreed at once. "First thing I thought myself. If he had any ideas he's kept them to himself."

"Maybe he doesn't," Hermione argued. "And that's why he's going back to Grimmauld Place, to talk about it with other Order members."

"Well maybe he should have taken me along then," Harry pointed out, irritated. "Since I am the one who was having the dreams in the first place!"

"It's not that simple," Hermione said, exasperated. "You need to be here tomorrow to get ready. You're in the wedding party, Harry!"

There was no point in arguing with her. Ginny had started clearing the tables, and they pitched in and helped. They even helped wash and dry the dishes, as the living room conversation was now being dominated by the Delacours' reminiscences about Fleur's accomplishments at Beauxbatons Academy.

They stole away afterwards to Ron's room where they played a very quiet version of Exploding Snap until Fred and George showed up, having grown tired of listening to Mrs. Delacour gushing over her daughters. "I didn't think it could happen," Fred muttered glumly, "But when listening to Mum talk about Percy gets to be more interesting than a half-veela, it's time to do a runner." The Exploding Snap game expanded by two. After a while the twins tried to engage Harry about the dream; apparently news had traveled. Harry caught Ron looking at him guiltily as Fred and George quizzed him for details, but let it pass. He told them what he'd told their father and Lupin, and what little he'd gotten in return, and they passed the time abusing adults for wanting complete details but being unwilling to give them in return. At some point Ginny joined them and the game expanded again, and the rest of the evening was passed in relative silence except for the sound of exploding cards and small talk until Hermione noted the time and headed for bed, which broke up the card game for the evening. Fred and George elected to travel back to their shop in Diagon Alley rather than bed down with Ron and Harry, and Ginny followed Hermione back to their room, although not without a furtive look at Harry that he almost missed. He and Ron changed into pajama bottoms and T-shirts and bunked down for the night.

Harry's dream that night was not like the ones from the previous nights. Like the others, he was approaching the Burrow, only this time from a different direction, coming around from the side of the house rather than from the back. He could hear his own breathing; it was raspy and coarse, although he did not feel winded or tired. He could see the lattice the wedding party would be standing in front of, and crouched low to stay out of sight. He moved slowly along the ground, getting closer to where the wedding party would be, and as the party came into view he saw…himself, standing next to Ron. He crept closer and closer, his breathing growing louder and louder in his ears until it seemed as he (the "he" that was standing in front of himself) must hear it. He paused, gathering himself, and leapt at the figure in front of him –

And his eyes snapped open in the darkness. His breath was coming fast, as it had in his dream. Harry paused, forcing himself to be calm, and listened to Ron's breathing. It was regular and soft, sounding very much like normal sleep. The first rays of light were beginning to filter in through the window.

Soon the whole house was abuzz with wedding day activity. While the women jockeyed and argued and vied for the use of the main bath, Harry and Ron used one of the upstairs bathrooms, alternating turns, until they were both clean and ready to get dressed. Their dress robes had been carefully pressed and hung in the closet; Harry was loathe to get dressed more than an hour or so before the wedding was to take place, and especially not before eating, but breakfast looked like a lost cause this morning. He and Ron had been down to the kitchen, but Mrs. Weasley had shooed them out saying that she would call when there was something to eat.

But breakfast time had come and gone, and there had been no announcement. Finally, they crept back downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, seeing them again, gasped. "Oh no!" she cried apologetically. "Harry, Ron, I'm so sorry! I forgot to call up for you!" She bustled around the kitchen, frantically grabbing a few items for them. "I've got some pieces of toast for your father, you and Harry can have them."

No sooner had they bitten into them than Mr. Weasley ran into the kitchen fastening the top of his dress robe. "Did you make my toast, dear?" he asked Mrs. Weasley, who sighed noisily. "I'll have some more in a second, Arthur!" With a flick of her wand the bread knife cut two more slices off the half-loaf sitting on the counter; the two pieces then floated over and into the oven.

"Molly!" Mrs. Delacour's voice floated in from Mr. Weasley's office, which she was using as Fleur's dressing room. "Do you 'ave some pins I can use for Fleur's dress? It needs to be taken up a bit."

"I swear," Mrs. Weasley said through her teeth. "She can be as bad as her daughter…"

Ron nudged Harry. "Let's go find the lucky groom," he said softly. "There's bound to be more sanity there than anywhere else in this house this morning." He was mostly right. Bill, Charlie, George and Fred were jammed into Percy's old bedroom on the second floor. Bill and Charlie were discussing Bill's latest curse-breaking activities while Fred and George listened raptly. "Hey, gents," George said as they entered the room. "Make it through the mine field?"

"I wonder if Mum and Dad'll pay me to elope," Ron said, looking back toward the door. "It's a ruddy madhouse down there."

"It's not too bad," Bill put in. "I've been in some weddings where nobody seemed to have a clue what was going on. Not even me," he added, smiling.

"I was in one," Charlie remembered, "where the bride was four hours late getting ready, and one of the bridesmaids was caught snogging the best man in a broom shed while they were rounding everyone up once she was ready. What was even better," he said, as everyone began laughing, "was that one of the other groomsmen, a mate of the groom who had a crush on the bride, was holding the ring for the groom, and he turned it into a Portkey with the trigger 'I do!' When the groom put it on her finger during the ceremony and said 'I do,' they both disappeared!"

"Where'd they end up?" Bill asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

"We never did find out," Charlie guffawed. "The groom's mate never told and I never got to ask the bride where they got off to. I assume they both enjoyed it, though." He smiled wickedly. "I expect her parents weren't too pleased, since they never actually finished the wedding before they disappeared. But a mutual friend mentioned to me that they did get married again on their first anniversary."

They continued to swap stories until Mr. Weasley stuck his head in the door and announced, "We're ready out here. You ready, son?"

"As I'll ever be," Bill said quietly. They all stood as Mr. Weasley came into the room, giving Bill a quick once-over with his eyes and unnecessarily straightening his collar.

"This is a great day for you, Bill," Mr. Weasley said proudly. "A joyous day for us all."

"Except for Mum," Bill said with a grin, running a hand over his hair. "She still wants to give me a bob."

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "She'll come round, you'll see. And you may as well enjoy it while you've got it," he said a bit ruefully, patting his own, balding head. He regarded Bill a moment, then embraced him in a quick hug. Charlie and Ron smiled, while Fred and George looked at each other and both said "awwwww." Mr. Weasley, not at all abashed by this, let go of Bill and said "Let's go, then," his eyes bright with emotion. He opened the door and waved them all out. As Harry passed him Mr. Weasley said in a low voice, "Anything you need to tell me this morning, Harry?"

Harry thought of his dream and what he'd promised, but for some reason he felt it would unnecessarily worry Mr. Weasley and he merely shook his head. Mr. Weasley smiled and said, "Good! Well, off you go, then."

They filed out of the house and in front of the flower-covered lattice, with Bill taking his place closest to the center and Charlie beside him, followed closely by Fred, George, Ron and lastly, Harry. Rows of folding chairs had been set up and were now nearly filled with guests of the bride and groom waiting for the ceremony to begin.

There was quite an assortment of people here, Harry saw, looking out over the guests. He recognized Professor Flitwick, barely visible among the taller people surrounding him, and saw Professor McGonagall moving up the aisle to take a chair about halfway back. Harry craned his neck to see the rest of the chairs on the groom's side; he was almost hidden behind a ill-placed shrub which was blocking much of his view. If Lupin or Moody were here they were undoubtedly near the back – no one he knew was near him among the guests and he didn't know anyone on the bride's side except her mother, who was seated along the front row along with some other family members who had arrived at the Burrow this morning.

The justice of the peace arrived and joined the wedding party, standing in front of Bill between where he and Fleur would stand. Harry saw to his surprise that it was the same little tufty-haired man who had given the eulogy at Dumbledore's funeral. He nodded to Bill, who smiled in return, then turned back to the aisle that Fleur would soon walk down. The bridesmaids were now along the front on the other side: Gabrielle, Hermione and Ginny, each with a bouquet of roses in their hands. Harry wondered how lopsided this looked to the guests, since there were only three on the bride's side but five on the groom's. Soft music had begun playing, Harry didn't remember it starting, but it blended with and softened the mutters and whispers of the guests into a low drone that was at least better than dead silence.

After several more minutes of waiting, Harry started to check his watch, realized he didn't have one on, and muttered to Ron, "What time is it?"

"It's twenty after ten," Ron said at once. "Figured she'd be late."

"Let's just hope Charlie hasn't jinxed her wedding ring," Harry said with a smirk.

Ron gave him a look with raised eyebrows. "Why not?"

Harry snorted. Ten minutes later, the waiting was becoming almost unendurable when the music suddenly changed to the familiar "Wedding March" and everyone stood, which unfortunately obscured Harry's view of Fleur and her father beginning their walk down the aisle. He turned slightly, watching to faces of the others in the wedding party. Ginny and Hermione were beaming, Ginny especially so, Harry thought. Both of them, and Gabrielle as well, paradoxically looked happy and tearful at the same time. Bill, even though his face was scarred, still wore an easy smile, while Charlie grinned happily beside him. Fred and George were appraising some of the younger women among the guests, all of whom were turned to watch Fleur and her father's walk up the aisle. Ron, Harry saw, was doing pretty much what Harry himself was: enduring the situation.

Finally as Fleur and her father neared the front, Harry saw her and her wedding dress. It, and she, both looked exquisite. Her dress was shimmering white, with elaborate embroidery and a long train that was being held up by twittering birds flying along behind her. Ron saw them too at the same moment and could resist turning to Harry with a snicker. They finally reached the front and Bill offered Fleur his arm, which she accepted, and they stood side by side in front of the tufty-headed man, who waited for the music to end and asked the guests to be seated.

"Greetings to all the friends and family of the bride and groom," he began, in a voice oddly reminiscent of Professor Flitwick's. "We are gathered joyfully to celebrate the joining of Fleur Isabelle Delacour and William Arthur Weasley in faithful union…"

A feeling crept unbidden into Harry's head, an instinct that something was wrong. He wondered for a moment if he was going to be overcome with an impulse to run through the crowd tearing at people, but that was foolishness. In his dreams he had been at the back of the crowd, not at the front. But just then, as if in response to his sudden premonition, a commotion seemed to erupt at the far end of the garden. He heard Mr. Weasley say loudly, "See here! You can just barge in like this –" There was a flash of red and Mr. Weasley's shout was suddenly cut off.

Everyone turned toward the back of the garden. Several people stood up, then everyone. Before they did, Harry caught a glimpse of several men moving forward through the aisles, each of them wearing hats – oddly familiar hats. Why did the hats seem familiar? They were pushing people out of the way, and while Lupin and McGonagall reacted quickly with Stunning Spells, they were oddly ineffective. Harry's hand went to his wand, as did everyone else in the wedding party except for Gabrielle, but even as he did Harry knew that something wasn't right. In his last dream, the attack had not come from the back, but from the side, which he was now facing away from.

Harry turned and was suddenly face-to-face with a dark-cloaked figure who had come up, silently, behind him. His arms were outstretched, as if to engulf Harry; there was a wild, fierce expression in his glowing, yellow eyes. Incongruously, he wore the same oddly-familiar hat as the other men who were attacking from the opposite direction. Harry's wand came up instinctively as he started to shout "Stupefy!" but at the last he suddenly recognized the hat – and the man – and Harry's shout changed in mid-word to "Sectumsempra!" as he slashed upward, then downward again in the opposite direction.

Two long, deep gashes appeared across the man's chest and throat. He stopped in mid-stride only a foot from Harry, clutching at the wounds, and fell to the ground. Almost no one had witnessed this – the shrub in front of Harry had obscured him from most of the guests. Harry took a step closer to the man, keeping his wand pointed at the man's coarse, rangy face, which he'd recognized at the last moment. It was Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had been with Snape, Malfoy and the other Death Eaters on the Astronomy Tower when Snape murdered Dumbledore.

"Clever boy," Greyback rasped, his voice gurgling as blood bubbled out of his neck and chest onto the ground around him. "Didn't think you had it in you to use that spell again."

Lupin and McGonagall both rushed up, "Oh my goodness!" McGonagall exclaimed as she saw Greyback sprawled on the ground, blood pumping from his wounds. Lupin simply stared at him, his eyes wide but his mouth set in a thin, hard line.

Greyback saw Lupin as well. "Remus, my boy," he said, his voice growing fainter as blood poured out of him. "I'm glad to see a friendly face," he chuckled: short, barking sounds that were punctuated with spurts of blood from his throat. "Did you teach Potter that spell? The Dark Lord would be proud… of you…" His head fell back and he stopped breathing.

Lupin looked at Harry with a mixture of awe and horror. "Do you know what you've just done, Harry? You've just killed Fenrir Greyback!"