Hogsmeade has become a ghost town. Not in the sense of spectres or poltergeists, but under the glare of oppression the place has withered away, lesser than its shadow. Look at me the windows confide to the wind. Look at what I am, what I once was or could have been. It is so changed from what I thought I knew.

My first instinct upon arrival is to run and seek out Albus' grave, to see if it remains a solace or if it too has become another ominous milestone of the road ahead. Whether the book and the truth I left with him is the beating heart of his tomb or walled up screaming inside I do not know. For the time being, his grave and his peace lies just out of reach.

The Hogs' Head is bustling with people coming and going and I aim to slip by unnoticed by Aberforth's watchful gaze, but no such luck. Whatever my experience with slipping by, Aberforth is especially alert tonight and my stature makes me stand out among my taller and older counterparts.

"Marion!" There goes being unnoticed.

Reluctantly I make my way over to him by the bar.

"You off with your lot? Off to fight?"

"Yes."

He shakes his head. "It'll be a bloodbath out there, you mark my words." To contradict him would be foolish. I have seen the signs, they are all there.

"Ab, I know full well what I'm getting myself into."

"Then get out. Live longer, it's what you want."

"Look, the Death Eaters will hunt me down and kill me eventually. May as well be sooner rather than later. Better sooner, when there are others to help me and when victory is in sight."

"Victory." He snorts. "Still living under my brother's delusion, then?"

"Delusion today, reality tomorrow."

"You'll go the same way he did if you aren't careful. Head in the bloody clouds."

"Nobody likes it, but I need to be here. What I have to do is the matter, not how it is to be done or who is to do it."

"For the Greater Good?"

"No. For mine."

Regardless of his opinion on my judgement, Ab shows me the passage, the shadows washing over us like waves, that leads to the Room of Requirement and from there to the battle that is certain to ensue. I am hesitant in returning to the Room, due to the unfortunate circumstances that almost led to my death there last year and the daunting notion that such circumstances might be repeated again tonight. I have plenty enough to fear without old memories seeking me out.

The apprehension almost vanishes at the sight of the new and reformed Room. It has become a hub of hope, a spark among damp firewood. The sight of this other world, this bastion of resistance is an urge to fight like nothing else could be. I was a naive thing indeed if I thought that Hogwarts would ever be passive. The building itself fights back against them. Hogwarts will be Hogwarts.

The sound of Harry's voice brings me back to why I am here.

"Voldemort's on his way, they're barricading the school- Snape's run for it"

So Snape has been forced out of Hogwarts, before he can explain everything to Harry. He'd better have a bloody good plan to get back, or we are all doomed. If he never makes it, I might have to be the one to confess and the thought is abhorrent to me. To tell him everything, tell him I lied to him for years and why without immediate proof and face a prison sentence for my part in the conspiracy. I'm not brave enough for that, not yet.

I feel the crowd pressing against me as they make haste for the Great Hall, I follow, if only to avoid being crushed until another's voice pulls me back.

"I was a fool! I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat-"

Well if I'm not prepared to be honest, someone else certainly is. At last. Now you tell us Percy Weasley, at this most inconvinient of times! But I couldn't be gladder that he said it. Now I can see why he is a Gryffindor, why all of them are. At George's comment on how we must get there soon before all of the good Death Eaters are taken I instinctively feel myself drawn to his side. I could do with someone with a smile tonight. But I think Percy is the one I need to watch. Percy might just be my way to Thicknesse.

I manage to reach the Great Hall, pushing past people in time to hear McGonagall's orders. I am about to ask her what parts of the castle require reinforcements when I hear the sound of the fear in my heart, taking the form of his voice. I curl my fingers around my ears as if I would tear the sound out of them.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

"Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed."

He's only seventeen years old.

"Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched."

He is just a boy, whose only crime is being alive.

"Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded."

I want no reward that he can give me.

"You have until midnight."

When his voice fades into the walls, I breathe out slowly. I have a look at my watch. Midnight is half an hour away, the minute hand chasing the hour like a hunting dog tracking down a scent.

Kingsley divides up the troops and I volunteer to join his group in the grounds- the Forest will provide cover and I prefer long distance targets. But he shakes his head at me and whispers only one thing as I pass:

"Stairs."

Of course. Kingsley must venture out into the grounds to capture Thicknesse or his deputy and bring them to me, and should they evade him I must wait for them to walk right into my path. Should I be forced to choose between taking on Thicknesse or his deputy, I must go for the deputy; if the Death Eaters were to regroup they would notice Thicknesse's absence and replace him, but the demise of his deputy may go unnoticed.

The staircase where I am stationed lies in a secluded part of the castle and seems at first to be an odd choice of post. But Kingsley has thought his strategy through well. It is the ideal spot to keep valuable fighters like Thicknesse for respite or protection. It is also secluded enough for it to seem useless to defend: just a few solitary classrooms, empty and entirely expendable.

I am the sole occupant of the place, for now. I treat the stairs with caution, unwilling to repeat another debacle that almost ended in death. The sight of them brings Draco to mind and his lasting words:

"And you think you are better? Or exempt from scrutiny? You are equally guilty! And don't think I don't understand everything.

You live in perpetual fear half your life, with only brief snatches of anything resembling structure... paranoid with fear of the colossus in your life- your father. He frightens you in every way, and he fascinates you with the power he wields. You are stifled and suffocated... "Moral instincts" have nothing to do with it...

You think, naively, that you can just "forget" and get along fine. But you can't, you never could. You are stalked by thoughts and nightmares and you remember the frustration and the fear and the oppression and you hate it. It wells up in you, this- this tide of hysteria. You present a mask of all bubbles and smiles to your friends, but inside you are bitterness and resentment. And you are still determined to forget, to bury everything in the sands of time... And then, when school is over and more horrors are in store, you bury yourself in every hobby under the sun, keeping up old interests as well as beginning fresh ones, all to sustain focus on something else, something that won't stalk and kill you, something to cling to and hold on to. To feel special. You become obsessed with political power, with everything it represents: the greed and corruption of our world. You want to be the one with all the power, so that you will never be oppressed again, so that you will change things, feel worthy and wanted. You also want revenge but you don't know how.

And every time you watch fathers and their children in the playground, and you wonder- are you defective? What's wrong with you? Why are you so different? The black sheep, the one didn't work out. Why is everybody else happy and you are not? And you see that playfulness and that carefree innocence which you know you will never, ever have-"

Where is he? Will I ever find him again? Or will I be too late and see only a reflection of myself?

Then I want nothing more than to have my sister with me. It is the weight of her arms I want around me, not my own. The brush of her hair over my shoulder, not the settling dust of an unfamiliar place. The flutter of her heartbeat through my back, not the fear coursing through me. The answer to her mournful question:

"Oh, my poor sister. My lemon and ice cream sister. What am I to do with her?"

What indeed.

I hunch up as small as possible behind the stone wall that connects the stairs at the side with the landing, and wait for midnight.

My nails cut grooves in my palms with each new scream, my knuckles grazing my teeth. Where I am, I cannot see the chaos , but nothing can prevent my hearing it. Several times in the last few minutes I have risen and tried to join them, but every time the tether of duty has pulled me back. Kingsley has put me here, I must remain here until I have finished my task, or finished off my task. Here the battle seems distant, miles away, when nothing could be further from the truth. In a short time, it will be a battlefield by itself.

Underneath the roar of battle comes the shuffling sounds of footsteps; and everything dies away.

I quickly glance around to see the face of one I know only by sight: the deputy Minister for Magic. For an important member of the Ministry, his lack of protection is astonishing- he is completely and utterly alone. Perhaps he sought out this place to hide. Whatever his reason for being here, he is my prey now. Identity is irrelevant. Personality is irrelevant. Family is irrelevant. He has done nothing against me personally, we have never spoken. He has not turned on me, he does not even know I am here. In all sense of reason, I have no cause to kill him, yet I must do so anyway. He has the misfortune of being on the wrong side of the fence; and that is a difficult thing to forgive.

I force myself to be steady as I slowly raise my wand behind the staircase and through a gap in the banisters, take aim. Two words. Two small words with meaning behind them. That is all it will take. That's all I have to do. I open my mouth to whisper those words.

Arms close around my neck, trapping my head as if they would rip every thought out of it. I gasp out the last of my air, the force knocking the wand out of my hand. I watch it fly over the staircase and land the opposite side of the room, minutes out of reach.

The arms squeeze tighter in the only embrace my father could give me. I flap like a dying fish, lights popping, oblivion almost seizing me before my fingers grasp at my chance of escape.

To each villain his own vice and my father's is a total lack of efficiency in killing. If there is just one thing that Voldemort and I have in common, it is the earnest wish to dispose of our respective enemies as quickly as possible. But my father cannot do this. He must enjoy it, revel in the total control over the victim, watch their hope fade out of their eyes and without their life. He cannot just get it over with.

The cork almost gets stuck but finally I yank it out, cracking too-long nails but fear blurs out the pain. A cloud of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder obscures the pair of us from view. My father shouts in shock and I use his surprise to crack the pot against his nose and after wriggling free of his snatching arms, hurtle down the stairs after my wand, while he flails around in the dark, unable to see his way out.

Taking to the stairs is a decision I almost have no chance to regret. I duck away from a curse the deputy sent towards my head, but his second curse is aimed cannily.

I slip on the crunching steps and scream what I think will be my last as the entire staircase collapses on top of me, showering me with rubble.

For one terrible moment, I thought everything was gone. But it will not be gone until I let go of it.

"Where is she?" cried the deputy. "I think we killed her. Let's move on, see if our trap works again."

"No!" My father kicks the wall with a thud. "I'm not finished until her head is on my desk!"

"If you want to check she's dead you'll waste time. That black cloud she made isn't going anywhere fast, we'll have to wait it out if you want her."

I choked out the dust, spitting out the chalky taste and trying to ignore the numerous wounds pounding all over me.

Aware of a dwindling supply of breathable air, I crawl out of the debris very slowly, each new spot of light, however faint, luring me on. I like the look of the light, the way it reveals the unknown. Inching along my throbbing fingers, I pull myself gradually out of the wreckage.

The moment my legs are free I scuttle around the nearest wall, curses whizzing past.

Trying to hold onto reason with imminent peril and head wounds is like clutching at a glass vase on a sea-tossed ship. Something has to give.

I can hear the sound of running, chasing my decision. I have no wand, I am wounded and I have never been more vulnerable. But something drives me not to go back, to grab Fate's reins and shake her off. This is my chance. I shall not fail it.

I grab the largest piece of rubble I can find: part of a step- about the size of a book. My wrists scream as I pick it up but I grip it tightly even as the blood on my heads runs over its rough surface.

Then I run. Not away from the danger, but head first into it. Curses blaze around me but I cannot stop. I run and with each dusty step make it closer and closer to the deputy, forced into a corner.

Wrenching my shoulder, I swung the rock and clubbed his hand with it forcing him to release his wand. He dives down in a desperate attempt to pick it up.

All I have to do is let go.

Like the shattering of an egg shell, his skull cracks and blood pools out, running up to lick the toes of my shoes, as if to wash off one horror only to replace it with another.

I take a step back, looking over my kill, my brutal, bloody kill in a manner not dissimilar to observing a just-finished painting. Just part of life's rich artwork, but hidden away at the back of the gallery, not for public viewing. To be destroyed and forgotten and buried if it didn't tell such a truth.

Whatever drove me to kill him was the same thing that drove me to run straight into curse fire with only a rock for protection. It was a different thing to what drove me to join the war, to risk my life for Harry and Albus' cause. I did not kill if him for a better world, not really. I made the first move, really. It was not self-defence, really. It was power, really.

Because he had power. He had power and I wanted it. I wanted it, really.

Out of the corner of my eye, the cloud began to fade and my father's bulky form became clearer. I snatched up my wand and jogged from the scene, not daring to look back at the crumpled body of power. I did not kill him with a wand, nobody need know it was me. They can just go on without knowing of the dangerous hunger, the monster tucked away neatly in me.

I run through the corridors, turning to register the shouts and spells richocheting around the walls. What to do? Where to start? If I am to kill Thicknesse, it must be done quickly, preferably before anyone can realise that his deputy is also dead.

I race up the stairs. Where did the twins say they would be? Percy might be nearby. He knows Thicknesse better than anyone.

He is duelling a Death Eater and they are equally matched in prowess until I send a knife flying into the back of his opponent. He starts, his glasses slipping on his face.

"Marion! There you are," he winces at the sight of the knife. "Was that really necessary?"

"Afraid so." I pull him to the side by his robes, staggering slightly. "Is Thicknesse anywhere near here? Do you have any idea where he would go?"

"I haven't seen him. Not sure if he has turned up at this part of the castle yet. Why?"

"I owe him a good hex."

He nods, his glasses slipping further. "I second that motion. Percy Ignatius Weasley, at your service."

He makes a pompous little bow, so incongruous with the violence around us. I curtsey in return. "Marion Ruth Popyngcart, at yours."

He grabs me by the back of my robes, pulling me out of the way of a flying curse that collides with the wall behind.

"Watch out for curses."

"Brilliant advice, Perce."

So there, in the thick of a war, I decide to give Percy another chance. Apart from my antipathy of the Ministry in general, maybe he and I are not so different after all. The more I think about it, the more I can understand his ambition, even if his way of achieving it is entirely different to mine.

Killing Thicknesse will be difficult, with Percy and the twins present. Perhaps if I make it look like an accident- a wayward explosin perhaps.

The battle rages on. I can no longer identify the owner of the blood that coats my face, my hands and clothes. Faces come and go, I can no longer tell who they are, they are just pools and fountains of blood, more blood.

Two more hooded Death Eaters join the fray. Like the wrappings of a gift loosening off, the hood falls off of one.

"Hello, Minister!" Percy sends a jinx straight at him and he recoils in discomfort. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

That is it. Cut everything I have ever said about Percy. This battle has officially made him my favourite person in the Ministry. Thicknesse is now just where I want him: wounded and in the corner. All I have to do is go overboard with a Stunning Spell and he is finished.

"You actually are joking, Perce- I don't think I've heard you joke since you were-"

I throw my head back to laugh, but it is choked off as the corridor explodes and I am forced backwards. I am slightly to the side of the blast, but it knocks me clean- no, not clean, nothing here is clean- off my feet. Unlike the staircase skirmish, I receive the lesser part of the debris and it does nothing apart from heighten the pain of my injuries.

"F-Fred?" I slowly get up, not bothering to brush the dust off, I would be there for hours. No, it is Fred I need. I want him to finish his joke, to tell me that clearly some obnoxious Death Eaters obviously do not possess his sense of humour, but exploding corridors is definitely an overreaction. I want him to tell me he won't let an explosion get him down. I want him to get up and shake the dust out of his brilliant red hair. I want him to stay with me. He has to stay with me. He can't leave. He wouldn't leave, not now. He won't leave, I know.

"Fred? What did you want to say?"

There is no answer.

"Fred, speak to me. You're OK, aren't you Fred? You'll keep fighting with us, won't you Fred? Please, Fred, speak to me. You're OK, you have to be OK, see, you're smiling. Tell me you're OK, Fred! Fred? Fred?"

I can scream his name as much as I can, I can scream until I choke but he still won't answer me. His face is frozen in a grin and none of my anger can melt it. Fred. Thicknesse turns and flees out of the corridor, clutching himself in pain but I do not even flinch. Nothing it seems, can move me from here.

Silence is the punchline to the last joke of all; and at its cue I know I shall never laugh again.

The Unforgivable Curses have never come easier. I know there will be a moment of sanity after this is over, that will make me scream with guilt and hate my actions, but for now the bloodbath is in full swing. I don't even question what I am doing. Why shoudl they live? Why should any of them live, when Fred is gone and I know I shall never laugh again?

I finally get my head back on track when I become acutely aware of running out of time.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately."

The rest of his speech is lost to me, I know of only one thing. A retreat means only one thing: Thicknesse will be unleashed from my tenuous grasp and I may never have the chance to kill him again.

It will mean dishonour on the highest level, but I have to take this chance. It will mean breaking the laws of magical warfare, but this oppurtunity cannot be squandered. I have to get him as quickly as I can, it is all that I, in my shattered and bludgeoned state, can do.

I have to do it; and I have to do it now.

OK, one more chapter than expected. But I think this is enough action for one chapter and I will continue the battle next chapter!

PS. 2nd May this year is the 15th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts!