Note: This is sort of a double-bill in that it is two chapters spliced together into one, so it is double the length of an average chapter.

Note2: I hereby blame David Eddings for everything that is wrong with this chapter. I recently discovered the Belgariad and I have been reading it avidly ever since. As a result, all thoughts of Harry Potter were chased out of my head…

Chapter Twenty-Two

Fight and Flight

"Got it!"

Hestia slammed her quill down on the Burrow kitchen table with an expression of triumph. For the past few days she did not appear to have moved from her position, scribbling away on whatever scraps of parchment that she could find and either unaware of or actively ignoring the frantic bustle that had been going on around her ever since Mr Weasley's return.

"Hermione!" she called, although Harry doubted that his friend would hear her. He didn't think that he had ever known the Burrow to seem so full and busy, and considering its normal state of cosy and welcoming chaos, this was saying something indeed. Virtually every Order member one could name had been in or out over the week, paying their respects to Mr Weasley and gifting the family with an eclectic assortment of items ostensibly intended to help his recovery; Harry wasn't quite sure whether Mundungus's dubious looking (and probably stolen) gooseberry pie would do more harm than good. The inedible desserts of the light-fingered aside, the house was bursting at the seams with fruit, flowers, cockroach clusters and the occasional guest who had been seated in a corner whilst the family attended to something else and then promptly forgotten about until three days later. The influx of Order members had a more serious side, however. Meetings were being held almost twice daily, their aim being the increased security of the Order's forces. Since Mr Weasley's capture, all their efforts had been focussed on getting him back. Now that they had been successful, the next obstacle had to be tackled: preventing such an occurrence from ever happening again. Harry had no idea what conclusions had been reached, if any. All he knew was that there seemed to be a lot of shouting going on to no great end.

To top it all, Hermione was dithering. She had been subdued ever since Mr Weasley had been taken, a perfectly natural reaction, but now she was definitely getting cold feet about the mission that they had sworn to do. She had been constantly weighing up the pros and cons of going back to Hogwarts again against going searching for the horcruxes. Ron had not said anything, but Harry knew how much the past few weeks had shaken him, and he knew that if Hermione bowed out, then the likelihood was that Ron would follow her. Harry would not begrudge them this decision, should they come to make it. He had originally intended to make this perilous and precarious journey alone; it was Hermione and Ron's own stubbornness that had resulted in their accompanying him in the first place. However, Harry couldn't deny that it would have been useful to have Ron's dogged loyalty and Hermione's seemingly interminable knowledge at his fingertips, and if he was being brutally honest with himself, it would have been nice to have some company on what was undoubtedly going to prove a difficult and lonely mission.

If Harry was being really brutally honest with himself, he had to admit that his feet were also feeling slightly nippy at the prospect, and he too was looking upon the roaring fires of Hogwarts with some degree of longing. He thought back to Professor McGonagall's words when she had first come to transport him away from the Dursleys' house. It seemed so long ago now. There had to be a reason for her wanting to see the three of them back at Hogwarts come September, a reason that was not merely the responsibility of a headmistress to her pupils. He shook his head absently, wondering at her reasons and motivations. Although Harry trusted the older witch implicitly and he would never say otherwise, he had more than once received the distinct impression that she knew more about their situation than she was letting on, and this frustrated him. For so long, the adults in his life had kept things from him for his own protection, and whilst he accepted their point of view, and he accepted their reasoning, he couldn't help but think that now he was of age, he was able to make the distinction for himself about what was potentially dangerous in the world and what wasn't. After all, he had faced more danger in his seventeen years of being than… He broke off the thought, forcing himself to accept that it probably was not the case. The other Order members were living through their second war, and it would be unreasonable to try and think that he had faced more threat to his life than the rest of them put together. But then again, as far as he knew, none of them were the subject of a ridiculous prophecy made by a ridiculous woman, a prophecy that seemed to have set his fate in stone. The thought of Professor Trelawney brought Harry's mind full circle, back to Hogwarts and the inherent security that he had always felt inside its strong walls. It was true, the castle was not completely infallible. It had been infiltrated by many an evil force over the years; indeed Harry had faced most of them… He swiftly moved the direction of his thoughts away from Snape before he damaged the table that he was gripping like iron. Yes, Professor McGonagall must have some unknown reason for wanting him to go back to Hogwarts; but Harry could not simply forget his duty to the former headmaster. Professor Dumbledore had trusted Harry with this task and Harry alone, and that had to account for something in the grander scheme of things.

Presently Hermione entered the kitchen, miraculously having heard Hestia's shout over the hustling and bustling of the rest of the household, and she came over to look over the older witch's shoulder at her page of ink splattered calculations.

"I think I've worked out why the Polyjuice potion didn't work as effectively as we'd thought," Hestia said excitedly. "It was because we kept it warm, kept it simmering past the date that we were meant to use it. If we'd just bottled it up and left it I think it might have been alright…"

Harry stood and left the room silently, leaving the two witches to their technical jargon and theorising. He was suddenly restless, suddenly eager to leave the security of the Burrow and do something, his safety be damned. He had not meant to leave it so late before setting off on his journey to search out the Horcruxes, and there was no time like the present. He was about to creep upstairs quietly and fetch his bag without anyone noticing, before the voice in his head that sounded remarkably like his female friend put a stop to that. He could not betray the Order by simply sneaking off like that, and in his restless, fractured state of mind he knew that he would be a sitting duck for anyone who was waiting beyond the boundaries of the Burrow's formidable defences. It was in that moment that Harry realised what he needed to do.

He made his way up the stairs of the Burrow towards the room in which Mr Weasley was recovering from his ordeal. Harry had just realised that he had not spoken to Ron's father since Lupin, Moody and Bill had rescued him, and now he felt the overwhelming urge to talk with him.

He met Madame Pomfrey coming out of the door that he was about to enter through. The Hogwarts mediwitch had become a sort of resident nurse for the Order in the school holidays, and she had been doing an admirable job of patching up Mr Weasley and Mr Ollivander. Although there were no reports of Voldemort attempting to infiltrate St Mungo's, the Order had felt much more comfortable not venturing out of the boundaries of their known associates unless absolutely necessary. When Mr Weasley had been taken with such ease, it had truly hammered home the point that one could trust no-one in this bleak zeitgeist.

"How is he?" asked Harry of the nurse. The witch smiled encouragingly.

"He is healing remarkably well," she said. "Not many people would expect it of Arthur but he is a tremendously resilient soul. Hope is a wonderful healer, Harry. Often it is a medicine far better than any I can give, and Arthur is absolutely full of hope."

Harry wondered at the words, oddly philosophical coming from a woman who was as straight-laced as they came, indeed she and Professor McGonagall made a formidable pair in that respect. He nodded his goodbye to Madame Pomfrey and knocked on the door of the room that she had just left.

"Come in," called Mr Weasley. His voice was slightly weaker than normal, but it had lost none of its customary cheerfulness. Harry entered cautiously. "Ah, Harry. How are you?" Mr Weasley looked up from the muggle magazine that he had been gazing at in rapt fascination and smiled wanly at his visitor. Harry recognised the tome as the latest edition of Technology Weekly and hid a grin.

"I'm fine thank you. I really came to see how you were."

"Ah, I shall be fine, Harry. Everything can be mended, or so Madame Pomfrey tells me. I'm not quite sure why medicinal magic has always had to involve quite so many disgusting potions but that's the way of the world." He looked around him at the small but homely bedroom and the many pillows that he was propped up against. "I must admit though, I am feeling slightly useless at the moment. I keep asking Molly if there's anything I can do but everyone insists that I simply rest and recover." A small furrow of worry appeared between Mr Weasley's eyebrows. "I mean, the Order's stretched enough as it is without my being out of action for however long Poppy is determined to keep me bedbound." He must have caught Harry's forlorn expression then as he forced the concern out of his visage and pointed to a Playstation on the page in front of him. "Now Harry, have you got any experience with these things?"

Harry shook his head; although he had been brought up around Dudley, who had always had the best of everything and the latest technology, it was technology that in earlier years he had never been allowed to be around and lately had never wanted to be around, so he was as in the dark as to the precise electrical workings of the games console as Mr Weasley was.

There was a companionable silence for a moment, before Harry spoke again, saying the words that he had not really had chance to say yet and that needed to be said.

"Thank you. For…" He was not quite sure how to continue. For taking two and a half weeks of torture in a cellar for me? No, that was not the right way of wording it. Luckily, Mr Weasley seemed to understand the direction in which he was going with the sentence and saved him the floundering.

"Don't mention it," he said, patting Harry's shoulder. "It's what families do. They stick together and they protect their own."

Harry thought about the simple phrase, spoken so calmly and so truthfully, and the words hit home, deeply. He had never really considered himself to be a part of a family before. With the Dursleys he had always seemed set apart from them; although they were his only real relations, the bad blood between them ran thicker than water, and he had always spent his enforced time with them feeling estranged and alone. The only place that he had truly felt at home and amongst friends was at Hogwarts… There it was again, the little string wrapped around his heart pulling him inexplicably back towards the castle. But now it was clear to him that all the friends that he had made during his time at Hogwarts – in fellow students, in teachers and in the various associates thereof – were more than simply friends. The people who made up the Order and particularly those who dwelled in the Burrow were his true family. They had adopted him into their hearts as fully and as without reservation or condition as they would their own kin, and Harry was overwhelmed by the simple and powerful ability of love and compassion that Mr and Mrs Weasley seemed to possess.

He thought about his family and its extended branches – Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, even Mundungus. They were most certainly the weirdest and most dysfunctional family that anyone could care to meet – Harry entertained a brief but amusing thought of the fallout that would ensue should his real family and his adopted family take part in Wife Swap. But despite this, or perhaps because of it, they were a true family. After all, which household was not complete without the occasional oddball, or the occasional argument resulting in Mundungus being transfigured into a radish by person or persons unknown?

Mr Weasley gave a hastily suppressed but telltale yawn. As bright as his demeanour seemed to be, it was still very evident that he was in no way back to full strength yet and would probably be confined to the Burrow for a good few days to come. Harry decided that it was probably time to leave, but his wildly flying thoughts seemed to be far more at peace having performed this deceptively simple but still to his mind exceedingly important task. He rose to leave.

"Thanks again."

Mr Weasley nodded as he closed his eyes, but Harry was not sure if he had heard him. As he was coming out of the room, he nearly bumped into Ginny. She was wearing the drawn, nervous look that she had been sporting for the majority of the past month, indeed, ever since he had arrived at the Burrow back in the middle of July. Whilst she had been smiling more readily of late in the wake of her father's return, their circumstances were still having a draining effect on her, and Harry knew that his presence was not exactly helping matters for either of them when it came to suppressing undeniable and inopportune feelings.

"Professor McGonagall's just arrived," she said. "She wants to see you, Ron and Hermione downstairs."

Harry gulped inwardly. This would be the first time since Mr Weasley's return that they had seen the headmistress, and the start of term was swift approaching. Now that the most pressing concern of locating their missing Order member was no longer forefront of her mind, Harry had no doubt that she would have turned her attentions back to persuading him to return to Hogwarts, and in his current state of indecision, he feared in that moment that this might be the time in which he succeeded. Harry took a deep breath before going downstairs to face the headmistress once more.

Professor McGonagall seemed to have aged an awful lot in the time that Harry had been separated from her; as if the concerns of the unenviable position in which she had found herself were showing on her face. Hermione and Ron were already seated in the corner of the living room that they had occupied when they had first had this discussion, their expressions neutral as he sat in the place that they had made between them. Although it would have been easier for them to simply squeeze up and make room at the end of the sofa, Harry found it bitterly fitting that he should be centre stage for this confrontation, the ringleader of the quiet rebellion as he was.

Professor McGonagall acknowledged his arrival with a brief nod of her head and paused before speaking, closing her eyes as if she was mentally preparing herself for the battle she was no doubt going to have to commence.

"Why is it always you three?" she murmured under her breath, partially to them and partially to herself. "From the moment you walked in through the gates, you seem to have been very adept at attracting all sorts of unsavoury things into your vicinity." She stopped and seemed to come back to herself then, opening her eyes and fixing them with her sternest look. "There can be no doubt that you all know why I'm here. The start of the term is fast approaching, and I would like to know whether I will be seeing you at Hogwarts come the beginning of September. I am also going to take this opportunity to remind you, forcibly if I must, of the dangers of taking the other option."

She paused again, and Harry could see the fight going on behind her eyes; the difficulty with which she was speaking.

"It is not fair to resort to emotional blackmail in an attempt to sway your thoughts but please, think about what has just happened to Arthur Weasley. The soul reason he was taken was for your whereabouts, Mr Potter. What do you think will happen if Voldemort realises that you are not where you are supposed to be, at Hogwarts? You have met him enough times not to underestimate him. At least," her eyes flashed dangerously, "I should hope that you do not underestimate him for it would be an extremely foolish downfall if you did. He will stop at nothing to find you. Arthur will not be the last." She sighed. "Harry, you said yourself that you did not want anyone else to be hurt on your account, to suffer because of you. If you do not return to Hogwarts then he will make everyone close to you suffer until he finds out where you are. I understand that this is something that you need to do, something that you have a pact with Albus about, but you must try and see it from my point of view as well. I am trying to find a middle ground that will provide the best possible protection for everyone, and I cannot do that if you are who-knows-where searching for something that you have no idea where or what it is, and the Order is under even more of a threat than usual thanks to your having disappeared off the face of the Earth."

The cold words struck home deep in Harry's heart, and the futility of their quest began to bubble up in his stomach like acid reacting to a base. In McGonagall's crisp, clear expression, the idea that had always seemed so far away suddenly seemed so impossible. In that same moment, he felt anger overriding the growing sense of panic; a hundred and one counter-arguments to throw at the headmistress forming in his mind but all of them half-thought out and contradictory.

"Harry, your postponing of this mission does not mean that it has to be classed as a failure before it begins," said Professor McGonagall, her tone as gentle as her stiff manner could probably allow. "We are here to help you, all of us, all of the Order. When it comes to looking for these bloody things, many pairs of eyes are better than one. Delegation. That was always Albus's failing, and, as his protégé, he has naturally passed it on to you. He always had a crippling need to do everything himself, just as you need to do this yourself. But you don't."

Harry's mind was in turmoil. He had no idea how to reply, how to argue a position that, deep within him, he did not know if he truly wanted to argue. Half an hour before he had secretly been hoping for an excuse to give up his onerous undertaking and return to the simplicity of life at Hogwarts. There was only one doubt, only one spectre looming over his shoulder that had to be resolved before he made his decision.

"If I return to Hogwarts," he said levelly, "and Voldemort knows that I have returned there, won't he simply come for me there and be done with it?"

Professor McGonagall did not reply for the moment.

"No," she said finally. "Well, I do not believe that he will. Nothing is certain. I have the feeling that nothing will be certain again. Hogwarts is a safe haven, probably the last safe haven, and even now it is tainted in the wake of Albus's death. Safe havens fall best and most entertainingly…" the last word was spoken with the hiss of contempt in her voice "when they wither gradually. He will not risk everything in an all out assault. Besides, the protections that the castle can afford to you are far greater than anywhere else in the country. Not only do old buildings have a unique magic of their own, there are more people to come to your assistance within Hogwarts' walls. We teachers are rather good at magic you know," she added wryly on seeing the involuntary quirk of Harry's eyebrow at her statement.

It was so tempting, thought Harry, so very tempting. He struggled internally, trying to think of a reasonable argument that did not sound like the whining of a petulant child, but before he could give any sort of response to Professor McGonagall's impassioned speech, the door of the living room burst open to reveal Kingsley and Tonks.

"We've got to scatter," said Kingsley, "they're coming. The Ministry's fallen. Scrimgeour's been murdered. Moody's dead too. We tried to get there but it was too late."

"How…" began Harry, but Tonks cut him off.

"No time," she panted. "Scram! They're on their way!"

Harry was half in and half out of his seat, not quite sure where he was thinking of going, when he felt a firm grip encircle his wrist and the jerk of an apparition swirling him through space to a destination unknown. His first terrible thought was that the Death Eaters had appeared without his noticing them and his journey would be over before he had even had the chance to tell Professor McGonagall what he had decided, but as he felt himself rematerialise and stumbled onto the ground at the point of their landing, he heard the Ron and Hermione's voices, sounding worried but not as if they had just been captured by masked entities intent on their destruction. He got to his feet and brushed himself down, taking in his surroundings. They were standing in Grimmauld Place outside the Order's old headquarters: he, Ron, Hermione and Professor McGonagall.

"It is a good job that we both thought of the same destination, Miss Granger, or else there could have been some serious repercussions of our slightly unorthodox transport," said the older witch, her words as clipped as ever but a definite shake in her voice betraying her fear at the sudden turn that the events had taken. "Quickly, let's get inside. This should offer us some protection for the time being." Together they walked up the steps towards the foreboding front door, and it was only after he had noticed the expectant expressions on the faces of the others that Harry realised they were waiting for him to open the door. After all, it was his house. Harry had still, after over a year, had not become all that used to the notion of his owning a house. He tapped his wand against the lock and the door swung open onto the darkened hallway.

"It's not ideal," admitted Professor McGonagall. "Now that the secret keeper has died, the protections that such a charm offers may as well have been rendered void, but it will serve. They should not be able to…"

She paused on the doorstep, holding up her hand for silence and then, without any further warning, spinning around on her heel and firing a hex at an unseen third party somewhere in the shadows. At first, Harry thought that she was merely being as paranoid as Moody had always been, but when he had to duck to avoid the curse's rebounding off a hastily cast shield charm, he knew that this was not the case. He, Ron and Hermione drew out their wands, ready to assist their professor, but he could not readily see where he was meant to be aiming. Another curse flew over their heads, straight into the empty house behind them, and it hit the covered portrait of Mrs Black that hung therein, causing it to come away from the wall with an almighty crash and an even louder scream from its subject.

Professor McGonagall cast a stunner and there was a small groan and a thump from the direction in which they had been attacked, and then there was silence for a long time.

"I think there was only one of them," she said. "I wasn't sure but I thought that something might have caught hold of the tail of our apparition." Harry just looked around them, watching out for any more attackers that might be out there. He had been living in the magical world for six years now, but he still didn't have a grasp of all the terminology that seemed to come so easily to the professor, and indeed to Hermione.

"Well, there's little use standing out here," said the headmistress briskly. "Let's get inside before any more turn up."

She bustled them into the house, taking charge in her calm, no-nonsense manner. After she had closed the door behind them and Hermione had provided some illumination, they paused to take stock of their situation.

"Well, I think it is obvious that…" began Professor McGonagall.

"OUTRAGE!" screamed Mrs Black, slightly muffled where she lay face down against the floor, but still louder than if she had been hidden behind her curtain.

"Oh will you be quiet!" snapped Professor McGonagall irritably. "We've got better things to do than listen to your idiotic screeching." She waved her wand in a motion that was remarkably akin to swatting a fly, and Mrs Black's indignation became distinctly quieter. The professor gave a small smile of grim satisfaction. "When you spend most of your life in a castle in the company of several pictures of variable intelligence, you do pick up some useful little charms. Now, where were we?"

They made their way into the kitchen, taking care to step over the portrait of Sirius's mother; as Professor McGonagall explained, the spell wasn't permanent, and they didn't want to give her any more reason to shout when it faded than necessary. Once in the kitchen, Hermione seemed to recover quickly from the shock of their being attacked on the doorstep and set about making cups of tea for them all.

"As I was saying," the older witch began, "I think it's obvious that we cannot stay here now that the Death Eaters know that it is one of our safehouses, and it is also obvious that we will have to move on very soon before our unwanted guest wakes up and manages to alert his fellows to our presence here." She paused. "The only problem is, I don't know where we can go."

They sat around the kitchen table for what felt like an age, each wearing similar expressions of deep and pensive thought. Harry wondered what he could do. This seemed like the perfect point at which to start their journey for the horcruxes; indeed it would be advantageous to have them simply disappear, unable to be found because they themselves didn't really know where they were going. This plan, however, left the undeniable problem of Professor McGonagall. She would have to return to the school and the running of the Order, and after the brief skirmish that they had just experienced, Harry had no doubt that she would not let them start on an exceedingly ill-planned mission.

Suddenly, Harry had an idea, and he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before.

"Hogwarts," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Why don't we go to Hogwarts?" he continued. "You yourself said that it's the safest place in the country. You said that we'd be safe there if we went back at the start of term, why not simply move that forward a few days? What would the difference be? It's not as if the castle isn't exactly equipped for visitors, and students stay during the Christmas and Easter holidays. Why not summer too?"

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione with a shocked tone, as if suggesting that they return to the castle before they were strictly meant to was the height of impropriety, but Professor McGonagall held up a hand to stop her.

"You're right," she said to Harry. "Hogwarts is indeed the only solution. The rest of the Order will have gone underground and it will be hard to find them unless they want to be found, which I doubt is the case at the moment. No, we would have to wait for everyone to come out of hiding. Hogwarts is the best place." She paused. "There is just one requisite that I will attach to your returning to Hogwarts early, Mr Potter, and that is that you do not simply use it as a safe haven until the beginning of term and then disappear off on your quest. Not only will I myself feel exceedingly ill-used, the castle itself will not appreciate the misuse of its hospitality. If you return to Hogwarts now, then you are returning for the entirety of the school year."

Harry nodded, part of him disappointed at this outcome, but a far greater part secretly relieved to have an excuse to break off his mission. Yet another part of him felt guilty, a horrible, slowly creeping and gnawing sort of guilt that was snidely accusing him of betraying Dumbledore's trust.

Professor McGonagall seemed to catch his expression.

"The headmaster will understand, Harry," she said softly. "This is a great burden for one alone to bear, and I think that the time has come for that burden to be distributed between the Order, if only a little."

Harry nodded.

"But what about our stuff?" asked Ron, identifying the practical problems as always. "All our school things are still at the Burrow."

Professor McGonagall smiled wryly.

"Don't worry about that," she said. "Things are easier to hide and locate than people. I shall make a quick detour to the Burrow and meet you at Hogwarts. The house should be deserted; there would be no reason for anyone to remain once the Order left."

Hermione spoke up at that point.

"Shouldn't we make it look as if we're still here?" she asked. "I mean, it would give us a bit of a head start if the Death Eaters still think that we're here and waste time trying to catch us."

"Excellent thinking Miss Granger."

Hermione needed no further prompting and jumped up from the table to start making the house look occupied, but not too obviously occupied. After all, the Death Eater outside knew, painfully, that they knew he had been there, and as a result, however long they stayed in the house, they were not going to make themselves too known.

Once she was finished, they recongregated in the kitchen.

"The gates of Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. The others nodded, and with a crack, the next stage of their journey had begun.

Note3: So what did you think? Hope you enjoyed the longer-than-usual chapter. Coming up: an insight into what happens in Hogwarts when the students aren't there…