Disclaimer: Nope, I'm still not JK Rowling. Anything you recognize is hers, anything you don't is mine.

But the pain subsided quickly; to her utter surprise, Levina saw, with tear-stained eyes, Greyback fall backwards, knocked out cold. In front of him stood Draco, his wand shakily drawn.

"Dra…" Levina managed, her head pounding, but her vision was coming in and out, and she wasn't sure what was real or not anymore. "…co."

She could feel someone at her side, their warm hand on her wrist. It felt familiar, and she knew at once who it was, but she heard Snape's voice shout, from miles away, "Go, Draco! Now!" and the comforting hand vanished, leaving her cold and more alone than ever.

Levina sat bolt upright so abruptly that she scared Lilypad off of the bedcovers, sending the hissing feline onto the floor. She was drenched in an uncomfortable sweat, her breathing heavy.

It was almost as though her mind enjoyed playing these little games on her, seeing as every night was exactly the same: She'd fall asleep, start off with a fairly normal dream, and suddenly be cast into a nightmare of less than fond memories, haunting her until she begged to be awoken.

"Drink."

Levina rolled onto her left side, blinking sleep from her eyes as a figure came into view: Destiny Levesque. She was kneeling down next to Levina's bed, clutching a cup of tea in her hands, her soapy-blue eyes compassionate.

"No thanks," Levina mumbled, reaching up to feel her pounding forehead.

"It'll help," Destiny insisted, pushing the cup into Levina's hand. "I brewed a calming potion this morning, and I put some of it in this."

"All right, all right," said Levina, taking the tea cup from her cousin and proceeding to down a gulp of it.

Even after all the time she'd spent in there, the room seemed unfamiliar…foreign. At the end of the school year, it was thought best that, for the sake of Levina and the Levesques, they move from their manor for the time being. They left most of their belongings behind in a tight enchantment that would keep intruders out of the house, but they themselves moved into a Muggle house on none other than Privet drive. The house was up for sale, and as it turns out, it was only a few doors down from Harry Potter's own home. This set-up was made so that, when the time came that they would need to re-locate Levina and Harry to a safer location, it would be much easier.

But it took a while for the witches and wizards to settle into the cramped Muggle home. Whereas the manor was large, elegant, and full of spacious rooms and high-class furniture, the house they now stayed in was casual, small, and a tight squeeze. Levina and Destiny shared a bedroom on the upper floor and Uncle Nicholas took the downstairs one. Eric slept in the guest bedroom, but he and Uncle Nick were often gone at alternate times, doing work for the Order and such. Eric had to explain to the dragon sanctuary (And his girlfriend) that he would not be returning, as he had to keep an eye on Levina.

Levina set the tea cup down on its plate and rolled sluggishly out of her bed. She groaned, knowing that she would have to clean out her trunk finally—and boy did it need it. The poor thing had not been emptied completely since she had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, she had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom—old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit. She made a mental note to give them to Dobby the next time she saw him.

"About time," Destiny commented as Levina began to scoop various objects out of her trunk, clattering them onto the floor. "You said you were going to do this four days ago!"

"I know, I know," said Levina. She had indeed procrastinated on this particular project, not altogether enjoying the idea of going through ancient belongings crammed at the bottom.

"Well, come downstairs when you're done," said Destiny, "I found this really cool-looking thing in one of the kitchen drawers." And with that, she vanished down the stairs.

Levina fished out an old badge that read UNBEATABLE BEATER, but it appeared that the badge had indeed been beaten; it was horribly scratched up and the pin was slightly bent, from years of playing Quidditch and being hit by flying, rogue bludgers. The next objects she dug out were a tattered and frayed box that once contained Coconut Ice, and a slightly smaller, worn crimson box from Fred. It was the one he'd given her when he had left Hogwarts during Umbridge's rein. She gingerly fingered the beautifully crafted, icy blue ring on her finger, which matched her 'condition' necklace (Which Lupin had furiously forced her to wear after hearing about her incident in which she almost turned into a Werewolf). She sighed, remembering the day all too well, the kiss they shared…

Fittingly enough, the letter that was once tied up inside the box was the very next article that she found:

Thought you might want something to go with that necklace of yours. Don't worry about the cost of it; by the time you read this, we'll probably be swamped with customers. Tell Harry George and I said thanks for the Galleons that created our shop and that he's welcome to any of our products.

Hang in there with Umbridge; she'll be gone by the end of the year, since the DADA job's rigged. Good luck on your OWL and best of luck to you all!

-Fred-

Levina laughed out loud and startled her Spectacled owl Athena, who was perched on the windowsill, looking dreamily out the window. Fred was right: Umbridge was indeed gone before the end of the year. Levina got up off of her knees and went to the hooting owl's aid, stroking her feathers.

"You know I can't let you out right now," she said, running a hand down Athena's side. "It's too dangerous, girl."

Athena gave an indignant hoot and Levina returned to her luggage pile.

It took another hour to empty it completely, throw away the useless items, and sort the remainder in piles according to whether or not she would need them from now on. Most of her school and Quidditch robes, cauldron, parchment, quills, and some textbooks were left behind in the Levesque Manor, so she didn't have to fret too much over them. Her Muggle clothing, potion-making kit, art kit, certain books, a stack of letters, and her wand had been repacked into an old rucksack.

In the midst of digging, she found some old moving photographs from her younger years…Looking back, she thought of both how foolishly immature she used to act, and yet how much fun she once had. The photos said everything: There were some of her in her first year, sitting with little Harry, Ron, and Hermione at lunch, waving at the camera. Some of them were from the Yule ball, with Levina, Destiny, and the twins all gathered together, beaming…But one caught her attention the most: A photo of Draco Malfoy in his fifth year, obliviously looking away from the camera to adjust his prefect badge. Destiny had scrawled in her pretty cursive across the top of it: Weasel git! She laughed for a good three minutes straight before continuing her voyage into the depths of her suitcase.

Once finished, Levina pried herself up off of the floor and unfolded a stack of newspapers that were collecting dust. She remembered one particular article that she'd read over one hundred times, over and over again. At last she found it. Turning to page ten, she flopped down on her bed and scanned over the words again:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE REMEMBERED

By Elphias Doge

I met Albus Dumbledore at the age of eleven, on our first day at Hogwarts. Our mutual attraction was undoubtedly due to the fact that we both felt ourselves to be outsiders. I had contracted dragon pox shortly before arriving at school, and while I was no longer contagious, my pock-marked visage and greenish hue did not encourage many to approach me. For his part, Albus had arrived at Hogwarts under the burden of unwanted notoriety. Scarcely a year previously, his father, Percival, had been convicted of a savage and well-publicized attack upon three young Muggles.

Albus never attempted to deny that his father (who was to die in Azkaban) had committed this crime; on the contrary, when I plucked up courage to ask him, he assured me that he knew his father to be guilty. Beyond that, Dumbledore refused to speak of the sad business, though many attempted to make him do so. Some, indeed, were disposed to praise his father's action and assumed that Albus too was a Muggle-hater. They could not have been more mistaken: As anybody who knew Albus would attest, he never revealed the remotest anti-Muggle tendency. Indeed, his determined support for Muggle rights gained him many enemies in subsequent years.

In a matter of months, however, Albus's own fame had begun to eclipse that of his father. By the end of his first year he would never again be known as the son of a Muggle-hater, but as nothing more or less than the most brilliant student ever seen at the school. Those of us who were privileged to be his friends benefited from his example, not to mention his help and encouragement, with which he was always generous. He confessed to me later in life that he knew even then that his greatest pleasure lay in teaching.

He not only won every prize of note that the school offered, he was soon in regular correspondence with the most notable magical names of the day, including Nicolas Flamel, the celebrated alchemist; Bathilda Bagshot, the noted historian; and Adalbert Waffling, the magical theoretician. Several of his papers found their way into learned publications such as Transfiguration Today, Challenges in Charming, and The Practical Potioneer. Dumbledore's future career seemed likely to be meteoric, and the only question that remained was when he would become Minister of Magic. Though it was often predicted in later years that he was on the point of taking the job, however, he never had Ministerial ambitions.

Three years after we had started at Hogwarts, Albus's brother, Aberforth, arrived at school. They were not alike: Aberforth was never bookish and, unlike Albus, preferred to settle arguments by dueling rather than through reasoned discussion. However, it is quite wrong to suggest, as some have, that the brothers were not friends. They rubbed along as comfortably as two such different boys could do. In fairness to Aberforth, it must be admitted that living in Albus's shadow cannot have been an altogether comfortable experience. Being continually outshone was an occupational hazard of being his friend and cannot have been any more pleasurable as a brother. When Albus and I left Hogwarts we intended to take the then-traditional tour of the world together, visiting and observing foreign wizards, before pursuing our separate careers. However, tragedy intervened. On the very eve of our trip, Albus's mother, Kendra, died, leaving Albus the head, and sole breadwinner, of the family. I postponed my departure long enough to pay my respects at Kendra's funeral, then left for what was now to be a solitary journey. With a younger brother and sister to care for, and little gold left to them, there could no longer be any question of Albus accompanying me.

That was the period of our lives when we had least contact. I wrote to Albus, describing, perhaps insensitively, the wonders of my journey, from narrow escapes from chimaeras in Greece to the experiments of the Egyptian alchemists. His letters told me little of his day-to-day life, which I guessed to be frustratingly dull for such a brilliant wizard. Immersed in my own experiences, it was with horror that I heard, toward the end of my year's travels, that another tragedy had struck the Dumbledores: the death of his sister, Ariana.

Though Ariana had been in poor health for a long time, the blow, coming so soon after the loss of their mother, had a profound effect on both of her brothers. All those closest to Albus—and I count myself one of that lucky number - agree that Ariana's death, and Albus's feeling of personal responsibility for it (though, of course, he was guiltless), left their mark upon him forevermore.

I returned home to find a young man who had experienced a much older person's suffering. Albus was more reserved than before, and much less light-hearted. To add to his misery, the loss of Ariana had led, not to a renewed closeness between Albus and Aberforth, but to an estrangement. (In time this would lift - in later years they reestablished, if not a close relationship, then certainly a cordial one.) However, he rarely spoke of his parents or of Ariana from then on, and his friends learned not to mention them.

Other quills will describe the triumphs of the following years. Dumbledore's innumerable contributions to the store of Wizarding knowledge, including his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, will benefit generations to come, as will the wisdom he displayed in the many judgments while Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. They say, still, that no Wizarding duel ever matched that between Dumbledore and Grindelwald in 1945. Those who witnessed it have written of the terror and the awe they felt as they watched these two extraordinary wizards to battle. Dumbledore's triumph, and its consequences for the Wizarding world, are considered a turning point in magical history to match the introduction of the International Statute of Secrecy or the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Albus Dumbledore was never proud or vain; he could find something to value in anyone, however apparently insignificant or wretched, and I believe that his early losses endowed him with great humanity and sympathy. I shall miss his friendship more than I can say, but my loss is nothing compared to the Wizarding world's. That he was the most inspiring and best loved of all Hogwarts headmasters cannot be in question. He died as he lived: working always for the greater good and, to his last hour, as willing to stretch out a hand to a small boy with dragon pox as he was on the day I met him.

Levina finally finished reading, but continued to gaze at the picture accompanying the obituary. Dumbledore was wearing his familiar, kindly smile, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

She had thought she knew Dumbledore quite well, or perhaps that Harry had, as he had spent so much time with him, but ever since reading this obituary she had been forced to recognize that she had barely known him at all. A swirl of guilt arose in the pit of her stomach. She could have spent more time with him, could have spoken to him more…But then, wouldn't it have hurt more to lose him? She thought of Harry…

Levina tore the obituary out of the Prophet, folded it carefully, and tucked it inside her "Werewolves: A Look Inside" novel. She didn't bother with today's newspaper—no sense in reading anything that would only set her off again. Instead, she ran downstairs, skidding in her socks, and entered the kitchen to find Destiny and Uncle Nicholas sitting at the table, looking rather confined in the area. Nick was stirring a cup of tea absentmindedly, and beside him, Destiny sat with a lighter in her hands, fumbling with the switch. When she saw Levina enter, she jumped to her feet.

"Levina, look, here's the—the thing!" she said, delighted. "I found it behind some clutter in that drawer—it makes fire!"

"Be careful, dear," said Uncle Nick, peering up at her through his reading glasses. "You might burn yourself."

"That's a lighter," said Levina, but she was no longer looking at Destiny. Instead, she was watching Fred, her pink Pygmy puff, and Eric's own purple Pygmy Puff roll around on the floor playfully. The problem was, she couldn't stop thinking about Fred. When she thought about Fred, she thought about their relationship. When she thought about their relationship, she thought of Draco, and when she thought about Draco, she thought about that horrible night with the death eaters, and from there she thought of Dumbledore…

"Dozing off before take-off?" said Uncle Nick to Levina as she scooped up Fred and placed him in a cage.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to nap that long," said Levina, rubbing her eyes. She found that she slept during the day more and more as her nighttime terrors worsened.

"Are you two almost ready? They should be here fairly soon, and we'll have to go over to Mr. Potter's Muggle house."

"We know, Dad," said Destiny with an air of exasperation. She picked up Eric's Pygmy puff in one hand and tilted one head to the side thoughtfully. "Think Eric will want to bring him along?"

"Pack everything," said Uncle Nick. "I don't fancy returning to this Muggle hellhole after we—"

"Dad!" said Destiny sharply, turning to look at Levina with a nervous expression. Levina laughed.

"It's fine. Most Muggle homes are pretty small...but then, the Weasley's house is fairly cramped, too," she added.

Destiny shook her head, her pretty raven hair flying back and forth. "No, no! Their house is lovely…and I just cannot wait to see Georgie again!"

Levina rolled her eyes. In most of their free time at the Muggle house (Which they had a lot of), Destiny came up with different pet names for George Weasley, "Georgie" being one of her favorites.

But she had to admit it: She was quivering with excitement at the idea of seeing Fred Weasley again. She ran back upstairs, hastily checking her hair in the mirror (It was untamed from her sleep). She had already coaxed Lilypad into the same cage as Fred (Neither Lilypad nor Fred were happy about this arrangement, but they got along well enough), brought Athena into her own cage, gathered the last of her luggage, and dug her Firebolt out from under the bed. She was mostly excited about riding her broom again, since all summer the threat of Muggles seeing her on it had prevented her from setting foot in the backyard with it.

Levina dashed back downstairs and deposited the cages, broomstick, and bag near the foot of the stairs. She tucked the stray photographs into her jacket pocket as Destiny appeared at her shoulder, following suit. She noticed that most of her belongings (Save for the bag) had vanished, including her pets.

"Dad already took them away," said Destiny, looking at Levina's bemused expression. "He Apparated them to Mrs. Weasley's house, so…no worries."

Levina nodded. She was glad she didn't have to carry the three pets, mostly for their own safety.

Destiny flashed Levina small, sideways smile. "Ready?"

Levina opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment, there was a sudden, deafening roar from somewhere nearby. Levina jumped and hit her head on the low ceiling.

"Hurry now, hurry!" said Uncle Nicholas, waving his wands. He'd already re-located most of their belongings during the past week, so that they wouldn't have to carry as much.

The front door swung open and Hagrid materialized in the doorway, wearing a helmet and goggles.

"Hagrid—!" Levina began happily, moving to give him a hug, but Uncle Nick nudged her shoulder roughly.

"No time—hurry, to the other side of the street—use your color charms—"

Levina had discovered that she could use her color-changing charm on not only herself, but others (She regretted not turning Snape's hair purple when she had the chance) as well. It didn't last as long, but it worked well enough. She concentrated hard, looking between them, and watched as they vanished into the darkness.

They hastily ran across the street, awkwardly with their bags and cages hanging off of them and clanging as they went, but they made it into Harry's backyard just in time. A crowd of people awaited them, including The Chosen One himself. Hagrid moved toward an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached, checking the gas on it. All around them, other people were dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black winged horses.

"Levina!" Levina barely had one word out before Harry, Ron, and Hermione had attacked her with lung-crushing hugs.

"All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?" said Hagrid.

"Definitely," said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"

"Change of plan," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous bulging sacks, and whose magical eye was spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity. "Let's get undercover before we talk you through it."

Harry led them all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering, they settled on chairs, sat themselves upon Harry's Aunt Petunia's gleaming work surfaces, or leaned up against her spotless appliances; Harry, bottle-green eyed and black-haired; Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, her bushy hair tied back in a long plait; Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill, badly scarred and longhaired; Mr. Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battle-worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short hair was her favorite shade of bright pink; Lupin, grayer, more lined; Fleur, slender and beautiful, with her long silvery blonde hair; Kingsley, bald and broad-shouldered; Eric Levesque, with his handsome face and stunning gold eyes; Hagrid, with his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling; and Mundungus Fletcher, small, dirty, and hangdog, with his droopy beady hound's eyes and matted hair. Levina's heart seemed to expand and glow at the sight: She felt incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom she had tried to strangle the last time they had met.

"Fred!" Levina flung herself into Fred's open arms, pressing her face up against his chest. She inhaled his familiar scent, ignoring how strange it must appear to him, and broke away, beaming.

"'Ello, good-lookin'," said Fred, bending to kiss Levina on her cheek. "All right?"

"Never been better," said Levina, but inside, she felt a swirl of unease. In their last conversation they'd had, he had basically called her an idiot and had begged her to be more careful. She prayed he wouldn't bring it up.

"Why, if it isn't Lev-Lev!" said George, throwing one arm around Levina's shoulder. "And Miss Fate!" he added, moving to give Destiny a peck on the cheek.

"'Fate?'" said Levina, looking from Destiny to George with raised eyebrows.

"Fate, Destiny," said George, grinning over at her. "All the same thing."

"Hey, you two," said Eric, moving out of the shadows to greet Levina and Destiny.

"Eric!" Destiny threw her arms around his neck happily. "Where have you been? Working with the Order?"

Eric nodded. "And contacting the dragon sanctuary."

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" Harry called across the room.

"He can get along without me for one night," said Kingsley, "You're more important."

"Harry, guess what?" said Tonks from her perch on top of the washing machine, and she wiggled her left hand at him; a ring glistened there.

"You got married?" Harry yelped, looking from her to Lupin.

"What?" said Levina, jerking her head to look at them. "Sorry. Just eavesdropping," she added.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry, it was very quiet."

"That's brilliant, congrat—"

"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch-up later," roared Moody over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody dropped his sacks at his feet and turned to Harry. "As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you getting out of here safely."

"Second problem: You're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."

"I don't—"

"The Trace, the Trace!" said Mad-Eye impatiently. "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters."

"We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you'll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short, Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."

"So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can't detect, because we don't need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and Hagrid's motorbike."

Levina could see flaws in this plan; however, she held her tongue to give Mad-Eye the chance to address them.

"Now, your mother's charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or" –Moody gestured around the pristine kitchen—"you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you're never going to live together again, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"So this time, when you leave, there'll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range. We're choosing to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen."

"The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're moving you tonight. We've leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you're not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we're dealing with, so we can't rely on him getting the date wrong; he's bound to have a couple of Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So, we've given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we're going to hide you, they've all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingsley's place, Molly's, Auntie Muriel's—you get the idea."

"Yeah," said Harry.

"You'll be going to Tonks's parents. Once you're within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we've put on their house you'll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Levina, you're going straight to the Weasleys'," he added to Levina, who looked up sharply at being addressed. "They'll probably assume you'll be wherever Harry's going. Any questions?"

"Er—yes," said Harry. "Maybe they won't know which of the twelve secure houses I'm heading for at first, but won't it be sort of obvious once" –he performed a quick headcount—"eighteen of us fly off toward Tonks's parents?"

"Ah," said Moody, "I forgot to mention the key point. Eighteen of us won't be flying to Tonks's parents. There will be nine Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house."

From inside his cloak Moody now withdrew a flask of what looked like mud. There was no need for him to say another word; Harry obviously understood the rest of the plan immediately, from his expression.

"No!" he said loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen. "No way!"

"I told them you'd take it like this," said Hermione with a hint of complacency.

"If you think I'm going to let eight people risk their lives—!"

"—because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron.

"This is different, pretending to be me—"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

Harry did not smile.

"You can't do it if I don't cooperate, you need me to give you some hair."

"Well, that's the plan scuppered," said George. "Obviously there's no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate."

"Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic; we've got no chance," said Fred.

"Funny," said Harry, "really amusing."

"If it has to come to force, then it will," growled Moody, his magical eye now quivering a little in its socket as he glared at Harry. "Everyone here's overage, Potter, and they're all prepared to take the risk."

Mundungus shrugged and grimaced; the magical eye swerved sideways to glance at him out of the side of Moody's head.

"Let's have no more arguments. Time's wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now."

"But this is mad, there's no need—"

"No need!" snarled Moody. "With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we're lucky he'll have swallowed the fake bait and he'll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he'd be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it's what I'd do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother's charm holds, but it's about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into nine. And Levina is just as safe as you here, since she'll be disguised as you—Voldemort won't track her for her power if he thinks she's you."

Harry caught Levina's eye and looked away at once.

"So, Potter—some of your hair, if you please."

Harry glanced at Ron, who grimaced at him in a just-do-it sort of way.

"Now!" barked Moody.

With all of their eyes upon him, Harry reached up to the top of his head, grabbed a hank of hair, and pulled.

"Good," said Moody, limping forward as he pulled the stopper out of the flask of potion. "Straight in here, if you please."

Harry dropped the hair into the mudlike liquid. The moment it made contact with its surface, the potion began to froth and smoke, then, all at once, it turned a clear, bright gold.

"Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry," said Hermione, before catching sight of Ron's raised eyebrows, blushing slightly, and saying, "Oh, you know what I mean—Goyle's potion tasted like bogies." Levina laughed into her sleeve.

"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please," said Moody.

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Destiny, Levina, and Fleur lined up in front of Aunt Petunia's gleaming sink.

"We're one short," said Lupin.

"Here," said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck and dropped him down beside Fleur, who wrinkled her nose pointedly and moved along to stand between Fred and George instead.

"I'm a soldier, I'd sooner be a protector," said Mundungus.

"Shut it," growled Moody. "As I've already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-Who would want to finish Potter in person. It'll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters'll want to kill them."

Mundungus did not look particularly reassured, but Moody was already pulling half a dozen eggcup-sized glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed out, before pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one.

"Altogether, then ..."

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Destiny, Levina, Fleur, and Mundungus drank. All of them gasped and grimaced as the potion hit their throats; At once, their features began to bubble and distort like hot wax. Hermione, Levina, and Mundungus were shooting upward; Ron, Destiny, Fred, and George were shrinking; their hair was darkening, Hermione's and Fleur's appearing to shoot backward into their skulls. It felt quite strange, Levina thought, as her red hair receded and became black. She coughed, made a face at the repulsive taste, and blinked.

Her vision was blurred. Evidently Harry's vision was worse than she thought.

Moody, quite unconcerned, was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had brought with him. When he straightened up again, there were six Harry Potters gasping and panting in front of him.

Fred and George turned to each other and said together, "Wow—we're identical!"

"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better-looking," said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

"Bah," said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, "Bill, don't look at me—I'm 'ideous."

"Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here," said Moody, indicating the first sack, "and vice versa. Don't forget the glasses, there's nine pairs in the side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack."

Levina rummaged in the sacks, pulling out a set of clothes, putting on glasses, stuffing her own things away. She felt incredibly awkward as she stripped off her own clothing, and she couldn't help but stifle a giggle as she pulled off her bra—it was a strange feeling, not having a woman's chest, and she had to force herself to not think about anything else that had changed now that she was a guy. She hastily pulled on her jeans and examined herself in the mirror.

"I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo," said Ron, looking down at his bare chest.

"Harry, your eyesight really is awful," said Hermione, as she put on glasses.

Once dressed, the fake Harrys took rucksacks and owl cages, each containing a stuffed snowy owl, from the second sack.

"Good," said Moody, as at last seven dressed, bespectacled, and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. "The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus will be traveling with me, by broom—"

"Why'm I with you?" grunted the Harry nearest the back door.

"Because you're the one that needs watching," growled Moody, and sure enough, his magical eye did not waver from Mundungus as he continued, "Arthur and Fred—"

"I'm George," said the twin at whom Moody was pointing. "Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry, George— "

"I'm only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really—"

"Enough messing around!" snarled Moody. "The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are— you're with Remus. Miss Delacour—"

"I'm taking Fleur on a thestral," said Bill. "She's not that fond of brooms."

Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that Levina hoped with all her heart would never appear on Harry's face again.

"Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral—"

Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley's smile; Levina knew that Hermione too lacked confidence on a broomstick.

"Levina and Eric—"

Eric flashed Levina an encouraging smile, and Levina couldn't help but feel at ease from his gorgeous face. Maybe it was the Siren charms rubbing off, but it made her feel more secure.

"Nicholas and Destiny—"

Destiny smiled over at her father.

"Which leaves you and me, Ron!" said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug tree as she waved at him.

Ron did not look quite as pleased as Hermione.

"An' you're with me, Harry. That all righ'?" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. "We'll be on the bike, brooms an' thestrals can't take me weight, see. Not a lot o' room on the seat with me on it, though, so you'll be in the sidecar."

"That's great," said Harry, but Levina sensed he wasn't telling the truth.

"We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom," said Moody, who seemed to guess how Harry was feeling. "Snape's had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he's never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we're betting they'll choose one of the Potters who looks at home on a broomstick. All right then," he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters' clothes in it and leading the way back to the door, "I make it three minutes until we're supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won't keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking. Come on…"

Levina hurried to grab her Firebolt and bag before running outside. On every side broomsticks were leaping into hands; Hermione had already been helped up onto a great black thestral by Kingsley, Fleur onto the other by Bill. Hagrid was standing ready beside the motorbike, goggles on.

"Is this it? Is this Sirius's bike?"

"The very same," said Hagrid, beaming down at Harry. "An' the last time yeh was on it, Harry, I could fit yeh in one hand!"

The side car placed Harry several feet below everybody else: Levina smirked at the sight of him sitting there like a child in a bumper car. Harry stuffed his rucksack and broomstick down by his feet and rammed Hedwig's cage between his knees. He looked extremely uncomfortable, and Levina was glad she had a broomstick.

"Stay close to me and you'll be fine," said Eric reassuringly, glancing sideways at Levina, who nodded, clenching her wand in her hand tightly.

"Arthur's done a bit o' tinkerin'," said Hagrid, quite oblivious to Harry's discomfort. He settled himself astride the motorcycle, which creaked slightly and sank inches into the ground. "It's got a few tricks up its sleeves now. Tha' one was my idea." He pointed a thick finger at a purple button near the speedometer.

"Please be careful, Hagrid." said Mr. Weasley, who was standing beside them, holding his broomstick. "I'm still not sure that was advisable and it's certainly only to be used in emergencies."

"All right, then." said Moody. "Everyone ready, please. I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion's lost."

Everybody motioned their heads. "Hold tight now, Ron," said Tonks, and Levina saw Ron throw a forcing, guilty look at Lupin before placing his hands on each side of her waist. Hagrid kicked the motorbike into life: It roared like a dragon, and the sidecar began to vibrate.

"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One…two…THREE."

Levina rocketed fast into the night air and her hair lashed at her face like a whip, her eyes watering. Around her brooms were soaring upward too; the long black tail of a thestral flicked past. They were rising fast, and by the time she looked back down she could no longer tell which one Harry's house was.

And then, out of nowhere, out of nothing, they were surrounded. At least thirty hooded figures, suspended in midair, formed a vast circle in the middle of which the Order members had risen, oblivious—Screams, a blaze of green light on every side: Eric gave a yell and she felt him bump roughly into her side as he raised his wand protectively. Everything erupted in chaos and Levina's broom began to spin out of control. Streetlights above her, yells around her, she was clinging onto her broom for dear life.

A flash of green shot just past Levina's right ear and she ducked, waving her wand frantically. She wanted to use the spells in her head, but everything was happening so fast that she couldn't concentrate. She could vaguely hear Harry shouting about something through the other various screams, something to Hagrid—

Levina shrieked as a spell ricocheted off of her broom, sending her rolling violently.

At least three Death Eaters had broken away from the group and were now hot on Levina's and Eric's trail. Eric looked nearly insane as he swung his wand left and right, his expression contorted in rage. She wondered if Lydia Russell was among the Death Eaters.

Levina swerved, but the Death Eaters were keeping up with them; more curses shot after them, and she had to turn around roughly to shout, "Stupefy!" A red bolt of light shot from her own wand, and one of the Death Eaters fell back, spinning.

"Keep your eyes on me, Harry!" Eric bellowed, but she knew he was talking to her. "Follow me!"

More Killing Curses flew past Levina's head from the two remaining Death Eaters' wands; they were aiming for Eric. Levina shot spells straight back at them, trying to knock them away, but it was no use—they were gaining on them fast. Eric waved his wand wildly back at them. He wasn't saying anything any longer, but spells were colliding with the Death Eaters from his wand.

Levina cried out as a particularly white-hot sensation hit her left shoulder, knocking her sideways. She could feel warm blood ooze from the wound, and she had to hold tightly to her broomstick and continue forward, her eyes watering in pain. It was just a bludger, it was just a bludger, Levina told herself. You're just in another game of Quidditch…A life and death game of Quidditch…

Eric was yelling something, but Levina could hardly hear him through all of the spells being cast. She wondered what the Muggles below were thinking, seeing fireworks exploding in the middle of the sky.

"Lev—Harry!" Eric shouted. He pulled up behind her, blocking the jinxes trailing after her. She cursed loudly as one soared too close for comfort beside her, and her heart nearly stopped when she heard a yelp behind her.

She whirled around to look back; Eric was hanging limply off the side of his broom, his expression pained but his eyes determined. He shouted a curse back at the Death Eaters, and one of them was blasted straight from their broom.

"Eric!" called Levina, slowing down slightly.

"No—no!" Eric pulled up beside her, and up close, Levina could see a trail of blood going down his forehead to the bridge of his nose. "Keep moving, don't worry about me! Whatever you do, don't stop."

Determined, Levina, leaned forward on her broomstick, clenching it in her hands tightly. Her shoulder was throbbing in pain now, but she took Eric's orders and continued on, through the flashing green lights.

And then she saw her—the blond hair, the unmistakable wild blue eyes—Lydia Russell. Her hood had fallen away from her face, and there was no mistaking the predatory look in her eyes as she cast curses at Eric, who continually swerved left and right to avoid them. She hadn't even given Levina a second look. Someone's got their priorities set, thought Levina, turning to help Eric.

But Eric himself was slowing down, raising his wand in duel against Lydia. A twisted, dark look of malice had lit in his golden eyes, and every curse he shot at her was sent with revulsion. Levina had never seen Eric look more determined—or livid. But Levina knew all too well that he was no match for the Azkaban escapee, and he was going to get himself killed—

"Eric, no!" Levina shouted. "It's not worth it—Eric!"

But then a rebounded curse struck Levina upside the head. She wasn't quite sure what had happened, but in the next moment, she felt herself soaring downwards, her short black hair flying upward, glasses askew. She was falling rapidly, at a fast pace—her broom and her bag were not far behind—and she grabbed blindly at the air, trying to return to it.

That's when Eric reappeared next to her, on his own broom. He pulled in close to her, grabbed her from under her back, and began to slow her pace with a wave of his wand. Evidently he was a man of his word, coming to her aid, considering he'd just given up the chance to wreak vengeance on the most hated woman in his eyes to help her from falling to her death.

And then it happened. Levina smashed hard into the ground and the wind was knocked out of her, as Eric, their brooms, and various luggage rained down around her.

Hey, guys! Thanks for all of your support, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a lot of fun to write, with all the action!

Flower gettin' Lady: Thanks; that seriously means a lot to me! I really appreciate that you've stuck with me for so long—and I'm sure that Levina does, too. It honestly does feel like an eternity ago that I started Book One…This is one of my favorite books in the series, and I'm incredibly excited to start on it!

Undapper Thoughts: Thank you for the review! And rest assured, I am currently in the process of putting all of my stories together on a document in case something happens to them. If anything does end up happening, I will be sure to leave a note on my profile saying where I will post my stories instead. I'm glad you like my stories enough to be concerned for their 'safety' :) Thanks!

Much love to everyone! See you in chapter two.