The front page of the special edition of the Daily Prophet was an imposing portrait of Dumbledore, Minister Scrimgeour and the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Pius Thicknesse, stood in front of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, staring commandingly at the camera.

Death Eater plot foiled by cooperation between the Ministry and Hogwarts

The country's battle against the incursions of You-Know-Who has ramped up recently, and it is widely believed that the events of the weekend, as this special edition of the Prophet can exclusively reveal, represent a significant gain in the struggle.

The Ministry was subject to a concerted attack on Sunday by both unknown forces and Death Eaters, resulting in the deaths of Ms Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, and Mr Lyle Proudfoot, Senior Auror. It is known that Mr Harry James Potter and Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were involved.

Mr Potter was detained on suspicion of trespass on Ms Umbridge's property. It is believed that the assailant who freed him from Ministry custody was Polyjuiced as Auror John Dawlish, who is currently recovering in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been unable to identify a perpetrator. The department has committed to a massive retraining effort for all combat-ready staff to prevent this from happening in the future.

It was revealed following Veritaserum testimony from Mr Corban Yaxley (see page 7 for a record of his voting history in the Wizengamot and family history), Deputy Head of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, that he had placed several senior officials under the Imperius Curse, seeking to surround the Minister with servants of You-Know-Who before making an assassination attempt. Several Ministry employees, along with others who have recently withdrawn from public life, have been revealed to be Death Eaters. Squads of Aurors have been dispatched to apprehend them.

Along with material evidence produced by Dumbledore, his confession has confirmed the existence of plans between himself and Ms Umbridge to instate an inquisition for Muggleborns. These plans consist of…

From cover to cover, it went on. Promotions for Kingsley Shacklebolt to Deputy Head Auror, Moody as a specialist consultant. Speculation on who broke Harry out. The photos of the utter disarray the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been left in following Harry and Vittoria's breakout took up a series of pages. Harry's involvement throughout was downplayed, almost made cursory, but it wouldn't take a discerning reader to know there were omissions. Still, the fact there wasn't a single mention of "Chosen One" was a nice change of pace.

Daphne joined him and Blaise at the Gryffindor table from her place at Ravenclaw.

"I left the Ministry before the lockdown announcement was made. I see you were very productive last night," Daphne said, brandishing her own copy at Harry.

She gave him a very strained smile. "I also see that I'll have to sleep with my eyes open until the end of term."

"If you need anything from us, don't hesitate to ask," Harry said.

Daphne nodded. "I'll hold you to that."

Blaise finally gave up on his porridge, and he mirrored her strained smile. "Now, are you sure you want to know more details?"

"I'm fine with what I know," she said. "Now, let me get to my other reason for coming to talk to you both. Bassingthwaite."

Harry's mind supplied a tall, sandy-haired Slytherin. "What about him?"

Daphne had eyes only for Blaise, who had returned to half-heartedly nursing at his porridge, idly reading the Prophet open beside his bowl.

"He's in the Hospital Wing. Someone attacked him whilst he was in bed. Lacerations. Broken ribs. Even a punctured lung from what I hear. The entire House is under suspicion."

"Sounds like he had a rough night," Blaise said, uncaring.

"If Urquhart is to be believed, it's as if someone placed a massive weight on the canopy of his bed. In fact, Thorne described his bed as crumpled," Daphne said. "I know your handiwork, Blaise."

Harry stared at Blaise. "Sisyphean Curse, right? What have you done?"

Blaise, incredibly stony-faced, continued to give nothing away.

"Morning," Ron and Hermione called.

Ron slid in on the other side of Harry. Hermione took the seat opposite, next to Daphne, with a smile before immediately going for some tea and eggs. They quickly caught on to the heavy tension.

"What's happened?"

"Blaise, was it you?" Harry asked.

"I'd finally had enough," was all Blaise said.

Daphne watched him carefully as she next spoke, "If Thorne wasn't capable of rudimentary Healing Charms, we wouldn't be looking at a quick return to student life by lunch. Might have died, you know?"

"Context please," Hermione snapped.

"Hermione, I haven't finished talking," Daphne said. "Please let me finish. I won't even deign to interrupt when you feel the need to lecture Blaise."

Hermione jutted her chin in a mulish fashion. "Sorry to interrupt again, but I still think we need context."

"I think I'd appreciate some context too," Harry added.

Blaise finally filled them in. Hermione and Daphne were a perfect mirror. As more and more detail emerged, Hermione grew increasingly saddened, whilst Daphne's smile just widened. Harry just felt that flicker of rage beginning to build, but Blaise distracted him easily with a companionable nudge of his shoulder.

"I get it," Ron said. "I don't like it, but I get it. Just… don't kill a student please."

There was something like respect in Ron's eyes in comparison to Hermione's hesitant censure. Harry was sure he'd never learn all the details, but just like he suspected Hermione and Ron were learning, it was clear Blaise had never had as easy a time in Slytherin as he'd had them believe.

"That's a lot of leeway. I can work with that," Blaise said with a dangerous smile.

"I approve wholeheartedly," Daphne said, her brilliant smile almost imprinted on her face. "In fact, I have my own little tiff with Bassingthwaite to resolve. I'd be quite happy to arrange a return visit to the Hospital Wing for him. It'll be like a small holiday for him, I'm sure."

"Who needs Firewhisky when you have Skele-Gro and Blood-Replenishing Potions," Harry said drily.

Daphne turned her joyful expression to him. "Exactly. What a man you've blossomed into, Harry."

Now knowing she was at least somewhat joking, they all burst into laughter.

"Are we really listening to Harry and Daphne plotting murder?" Hermione asked rhetorically.

"Do you think so poorly of me, Hermione? I intend bodily harm. Potentially grievous," she corrected as if the distinction was mammoth. "Blaise, do you need any help?"

Thinking of Harry Hunting, his horrible second and fourth years, Harry more than understood. Perhaps not the level of bloodthirstiness they were both showing, but it was no doubt that some people, as Dudley had, needed to be humbled. Sometimes painfully and often multiple times.

Harry nodded and squeezed Blaise's knee underneath the table. "I'll have your back."

Blaise's cold expression finally melted. Like an echo of that precious time together last night, his subsequent tender smile warmed Harry's heart.

"I appreciate it, but this is something I need to do myself. At least for now."

Tracey slid in beside Daphne without a word. Her hands shook around the newspaper she held.

"Pansy giving you hassle?" Daphne asked immediately.

"I can easily fix that for you, Tracey," Blaise promised, deadly serious. "Just let me know."

Harry shook his head at Blaise. "When did you become Daphne's clone?"

"Absolutely not," Hermione said.

"It's finally become real for you, hasn't it?" Ron asked.

By Tracey's subsequent groan, it was clear he'd hit the heart of the matter. "Painfully real."

She soothed herself by vigorously rubbing her face. "I'll get over myself."

"I still feel afraid sometimes," Harry admitted. "It never goes away. You just get better at dealing with it."

"That doesn't help, Harry," Tracey said.

"I felt the same in second year," Ron offered. "Harry was my mate, my sister was in danger, and even with those motivations, it was difficult to know that I'd be… you know, risking death. It didn't feel real, but I still managed to do it."

Tracey groaned again. "You're also not helping!"

She turned to Hermione who simply nodded at the newspaper in Tracey's hands. "For me, the only option is to fight. As Ron and Harry have said, it's scary, but better afraid than dead or subject to the Dementor's Kiss."

"As simple as that?"

Hermione nodded, sympathetic yet cold. "As simple as that."

"I guess it all seemed so… distant to me," Tracey said, visibly wilting in front of them.

At Daphne's ensuing sharp glare at the three of them, Ron shrugged. "We tried. Guess it's your turn since Blaise is pretending to eat his porridge again."

Blaise cleared his throat before looking up to give Tracey an imperious glare. "Anyone who can put up with Pansy's inane prattle and go back for more is brave. Mad, but brave all the same. You'll be fine. You always have been and always will be. I believe in you, Tracey."

Tracey gave a tremulous giggle. She gave Blaise a searching look that made Harry rather uncomfortable. "That actually helped."

Blaise nodded before beginning to eat his porridge in earnest.

"We'll rediscover your bravery, Tracey. We'll be around soon."

With that, Daphne frogmarched Tracey to an abandoned patch of the Ravenclaw table. Blaise looked like he wanted to follow, but at Daphne's adamant shake of her head, he returned to his breakfast.

"I'm surprised there's only one of you losing their nerve, honestly," Ron murmured.

"If I hadn't heard about Harry's… adventures directly from the source, I wouldn't have taken this so seriously," Blaise said.

"And Daphne's crazy," Harry said.

"Not too loud," Ron murmured with a significant look to the passionate blonde lecturing a weary Tracey in heated whispers.

Neville and Ginny approached from further down the table, each with a Daily Prophet in hand. Behind them, Dean and Seamus followed. Dean was still looking at the half-crumpled newspaper in his fist, hard-eyed, even as Seamus tried to comfort him. Harry hadn't thought beyond Hermione of potential reactions. He couldn't imagine how Dean and the other Muggleborns in their year were taking the news of what could have been.

Harry explained some, but not all, of the backstory behind the events of the previous night to them. Whilst Seamus and Neville were rather grim about Umbridge's fate, there was outright delight in both Dean and Ginny's eyes. Once they returned to their part of the table, it was as if the floodgates had opened. Justin Finch-Fletchley, another Muggleborn, was hailing Harry with a demanding wave of his hand, ruddy-faced with righteous anger. Padma and a gaggle of Ravenclaws were approaching their section of Gryffindor, and even a small group of upper year Slytherins were not far behind. All with a copy of the Prophet in their hands.

Thankfully, they were interrupted as the cacophony of breakfast faded into a tentative silence. Harry looked towards the head table, finding that Dumbledore had arrived. He'd not attended breakfast regularly this year, and he stood before them at his throne-like chair as if he'd never been absent, hands aloft in a welcoming gesture. His was a forbidding and calming presence all at once. There was none of the drained lethargy of yesterday, only sharp alertness that had Harry affording him his total attention.

Even with the revelation that Dumbledore had limited time, even with his glaring inability to make sensible plans, it was easy for Harry to admit he was glad to see him. Glad to see him imposing once again. It made the enormity of the task ahead of Harry seem almost approachable.

"Good morning, students," Dumbledore called. The last threads of conversation faded entirely with his voice echoing throughout the room. "In light of recent events as detailed in the Prophet, Professor McGonagall will be acting Headmistress for the foreseeable future. Professor Babbling will take over her pastoral duties as Head of Gryffindor. I will, in the meantime, dedicate all my time to working with the Ministry in tackling the threat of Lord Voldemort."

There was a smattering of gasps before a chorus of applause began to spread throughout the room. The thunderous racket from Gryffindor was in opposition to the grave silence of Slytherin.

"I am also pleased to announce that Professor Slughorn will now be Head of Slytherin," Dumbledore said.

Polite applause filled the room, but it was quickly drowned out by rising murmurs as all eyes fell to the significant absence of Snape from the table. Slughorn offered a weak smile, winking as he caught Harry's eye.

"Where's Snape?"

"I knew he was a Death Eater!"

"Silence!" McGonagall and Dumbledore said in chorus.

Any who would dare to defy Dumbledore was stilled by his steely eyes. "With exams done, Defence Against the Dark Arts will be replaced by a week-long seminar given by a number of Ministry officials. Attendance is mandatory. On Friday morning, before we all depart for the summer, there will be a talk given by the coordinator of Hogwart's Defence Association, Harry Potter."

There was a roar of excited chattering at the news, and searching the room, the baffled expression on nearly every sixth year DA member's face, was only eclipsed by Harry's own befuddlement. The wily smile on Dumbledore's face as he met Harry's questioning expression seemed rather challenging.

"I do, however, have one further announcement to make regarding the future of the school; courtesy of a donation from a generous benefactor, Hogwarts has commissioned both Gringotts and the ICW for specialist curse-breakers to re-examine the jinx on the Defence Against the Dark Arts for the first time in decades. They will be here over the summer, with some arriving this week, so I ask you do nothing to impede or otherwise sabotage their work. Expulsion will be swift for those who think to do so."

Applause rang through the room.

"On that note, I'm quite pleased to now defer to our new Headmistress."

McGonagall rose to her feet to a roar from Gryffindor.

"Good morning. I'm pleased to say that the good news continues coming. In light of recent revelations, the School Board of Governors has been dissolved indefinitely."

Ravenclaw erupted into ecstatic cheers. Hermione looked like she was on the verge of crying as she frantically clapped in the face of a befuddled Ron. Blaise was nodding to himself slowly.

"In place will be a small advisory board chaired by myself, Professor Vector, and Madam Griselda Marchbanks of the Wizarding Examinations Authority. Elections will be held over the summer for external advisors. There will be a slot allocated for a student representative, so please apply by owl. Hogwarts will be sovereign in educational matters as it once was."

Harry watched with more than a little confusion as Flitwick did a fist pump in his seat whilst dabbing his eyes with a napkin.

"About time," Blaise murmured before laughing at Harry's confusion. "Hogwarts maintains a massive surplus because Theo's dad, amongst others on the board, vetoes all of Dumbledore's attempts to improve standards. I know he's been fighting to get more staff and bring Alchemy back for years."

"Why?"

Blaise shrugged. "The previous excuse was to maintain a surplus for when the population booms again, but who really knows? Does anything in this country make sense? Honestly feels like some people would drink Malaclaw Venom by the gallon if it would spite Dumbledore. I think I might even be one of them."

Harry laughed under his breath.

McGonagall's speech continued. A commitment to higher standards of pastoral care and educational standards, more staff, the revival of long dead classes, a greater selection of electives. As she wrapped up, a note appeared in Harry's right hand.

Dear Harry,

Please see me in my office when convenient.

Yours,

Albus

Dumbledore caught Harry's eye as McGonagall returned to her seat to heavy applause. Harry almost jumped as he looked away to find Blaise reading the note over his shoulder. Like every other time Dumbledore came up in conversation, there was a deep frown on his face. Harry passed it to Ron and Hermione, watching as their faces grew thoughtful.

"What do you think?"

"Go for it," Ron said. "He needs to fix things."

Hermione smiled. "Take advantage of the opportunity and actually get him to teach you this time."

With hope blossoming in his chest, Harry turned to the remaining hold-out.

"I think you're all too forgiving, but you're right," Blaise finally admitted before giving Harry a sly smirk. "You may be far kinder than me, but I think you could afford to at least bleed him dry of everything he knows."

Hermione nodded in approval, an avid gleam in her eyes at the imagined magic Dumbledore might share with him.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Thank you for coming so promptly."

Harry took a seat as Fawkes inspected him from his perch with dark, beady eyes.

"Hello, Fawkes."

The phoenix offered a sweet trill of greeting before hopping onto Harry's shoulder. Dumbledore smiled at them both.

"I will be direct," Dumbledore said. "If it's amenable to you, would you be open to me taking the liberty of commandeering your schedule for the remainder of term and perhaps some of the summer?"

It was difficult to maintain a cool exterior with the unsaid implication. He could almost hear Blaise in his ear warning him to not be so easy.

"What for, sir?"

"Many things. Horcrux hunting, a little tutelage in magic, some adventure, and perhaps allowing me to make a meagre effort to mending our frayed relationship."

It was years too late, but it'd arrived all the same. He didn't want to be a person who simmered silently forever, not when there was a chance to look forward. With his fate, he could only swallow his doubts and accept this olive branch.

"I'd quite like that, sir."

Dumbledore looked delighted. "Wonderful."

Harry smiled.

"What do you think of starting our long day with some Horcrux hunting?"

Harry descended the cliff face under Dumbledore's careful eye. Swimming through the murky waters with the aid of a robust Warming Charm, he caught up to Dumbledore at the cave entrance.

"Beyond this point, we will be unable to Apparate. Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded and they navigated the slick rocks hiding the cave entrance before squeezing into the narrow passageway. They proceeded in silence before reaching a barrier of perfectly smooth rock.

"What do you think, Harry?"

Focusing on the unnatural barrier, Harry thought it reminded him of supplication and covenant. Pettigrew knelt in front of a cauldron, knife to his wrist, and the blood he'd offered to the notebook Hermione and Blaise had made him yesterday.

"Blood. Tribute. A gift?"

"Astute. I must say you provide Voldemort with a more reasonable motive than I think he'd originally devised. He is a coward in the truest sense, and so the very idea of self-injury to him is anathema. This blood tribute is solely to weaken the tribute-giver," Dumbledore said. He shook his head in dismissal. "To those of healthier dispositions, injury is simply a part of life."

Before Harry could get a word in edgeways, Dumbledore opened a long cut in his palm with a conjured knife and smeared the barrier with his blood. The wall melted into nothingness as Dumbledore knitted the wound shut with a jab of his wand.

At Harry's stunned disbelief, the elderly wizard smiled. "Forgive me. In my old age, I've only grown more bull-headed. Let's proceed."

The cave quickly widened after that initial barrier. They reached an antechamber, dominated by a lake filled with glassy, still black water. The light given off by their wands faded as if the darkness of the room were a living entity, viscerally offended by their intrusion. The weak light from their searching wands found shadows underneath the sheen of the lake's surface.

"Bodies," Harry murmured.

Dumbledore walked to the lake's edge, peering into the abyssal dark. His face sank at whatever realization met him.

"Inferi, Harry. A collection of Voldemort's victims over the years, I imagine," Dumbledore said gravely. "Fire will be of great utility to us."

Harry approached the water, making out a pale face floating by, nearly perfectly preserved. Others floated by all recognisable as once people. It was a testament to Voldemort's skill that they'd preserved their appearance so uncannily. The renderings in Ron's textbook had been of near skeletal husks, devoid of identifying features. It was more unsettling this way, at least to Harry.

"They're made from the freshly dead, right? The more intact the better," Harry said, recalling Ron explaining the process of their creation to him and Hermione. "Is there anyone you may know? Body never recovered?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Closure is a powerful thing. Fawkes, to me!"

With a bellowing of flame, Fawkes appeared without regard of the anti-Apparition jinx. The darkness receded around his resplendent plumage as he nuzzled up to his companion.

"Voldemort takes little stock of non-humans, doesn't he?" Harry muttered.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, and he turned to the phoenix. "I would ask you to illuminate the depths for us, old friend."

A plume of surging flame surged from Fawkes' wings as he hovered over the water before Dumbledore, lighting the surface of the water. It didn't take long for Dumbledore to recognise someone amongst the dead in the shallows. A massive, black beard that Hagrid would approve of on a gaunt face. The man's yellow, staring eyes were piercing, even in death.

"Caradoc Dearborn, my dear friend," Dumbledore murmured. "We never did find out what happened to you. I only pray it was painless. You were as talented as you were headstrong, so quick to act. It was perhaps why we got on so well. When you took off that night, determined to find Evan Rosier, I'd thought nothing of it. If any could deal with him, it was you or Alastor. If I could turn back time…"

Fawkes glided along to the other side of the shore. Dumbledore and Harry followed, and another corpse was recognised. A small, dark-skinned woman with a big, poofy fauxhawk, visibly screaming in her last moments.

"Dorcas Meadowes, one of the greatest of our number. It took Voldemort himself to end you. When your husband was murdered, I did promise to look after Ezekiel and Amarachi for you, in case anything happened, but I was too late. Akingbade never forgave me for my failure. Rodolphus and Bellatrix have many crimes to answer for."

Harry shook his head as Dumbledore took a moment to collect himself. One day, Harry would collect. For Sirius. For Neville. For everyone else.

"You'd have liked them both, Harry. They were both incredibly capable. In fact, Caradoc reminds me of you."

"And you," Harry added.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Touché. Dorcas was a very severe woman, not unlike Minerva. When she thawed for you, she was perhaps one of the kindest and stalwart people I'd ever met. Brilliant duellist and well-learned in blood magic and rituals. Her skills and presence are deeply missed."

Harry nodded grimly.

"I believe our Horcrux is located on that island," Dumbledore said eventually. "Disturbing the water will awaken the Inferi within, so let us first retrieve the boat."

"What boat?"

With a fancy twirl of his wand, Dumbledore summoned a ghostly, green chain from the depths of the lake. It slid noisily against the sheer rocky walls before extending into Dumbledore's outstretched hand. Harry jolted in surprise when a spectre of a boat materialised out of the fog, sailing silently towards them.

Fawkes heralded the way to the vessel with a low, soft trill. The boat was a tiny, ghostly wooden thing.

"Inspect it, Harry. Careful not to touch the water."

Harry stepped forward, hesitant. He'd had no idea how Dumbledore had even known of the boat.

"How?"

"A lesson for later, Harry. I appreciate that you work by instinct, so do not be afraid to lean into it. Knowledge can be learnt. Instinct, however, is a hard-fought thing."

Harry took a moment to attune himself to the sense of rejection broadcast from the boat.

"It reminds me of your age line."

"And?"

"Perhaps one wizard of age at a time?"

Dumbledore gave him a brilliant smile.

"Precisely. Voldemort would scarcely be able to fathom someone of your age making it this far. I believe we could make it across together with the company of Fawkes."

It was a tight squeeze as they set off, Fawkes a warm weight on Harry's shoulder, and Dumbledore squeezed in the front of the boat. They glided across the water without a sound or ripple of the lake.

They disembarked on the island, approaching a plinth, the centrepiece on the top of a mound of mossy rock.

"Here we are," Dumbledore said.

On the plinth was a stone-wrought cup and a large basin filled with a dark green potion, shimmering in the faint light. Peering into it, Harry could make out the beginnings of a familiar golden chain, pooled in a ball at the bottom. His scar felt nothing, no sympathetic throb or even a slight prickle.

"It's a fake," Harry said.

Dumbledore hummed noncommittally as he too peered into the basin. Harry watched as he drew his wand and attempted switching the fluid, vanishing it, transfiguring it, and even conjuring a swarm of hedgehogs to attempt drinking it. Each would imbibe a mouthful before falling to the ground, convulsing, before racing towards the water. Dumbledore vanished them before they could even approach the shoreline. The potion continued to gently ripple against the very lip of the basin as if none had been consumed to begin with.

"How tricky, Tom," Dumbledore murmured as he continued to inspect the basin. "Tricky, tricky."

Harry conjured a simple mug. "Aguamenti."

As the water pooled in the mug, it vanished into nothingness. Tricky indeed.

"The potion induces extreme thirst. The only option is the lake, isn't it?"

"Yes, and terrible pain. Whoever managed to recover the true Horcrux likely never left this place unaided, if at all. There is a fell curse on the water. Those who die within it then become Inferi and are placed into stasis until the next victim disturbs the water. A nasty cycle."

Dumbledore looked up to Fawkes, idling above them. "Once more, my friend. We will inspect the lake."

With the aid of binoculars Dumbledore had quickly conjured and enchanted for them both in a passable replica of the Omnioculars, they began their slow, miserable work. The shallows were inspected very quickly, but they had to wait for the slow-moving currents provoked by Fawkes' gentle wing flaps to shift the mounds of drowned bodies in the deeper waters. Whether Voldemort had opted to fill the lake from the centre first or there'd been many prior visitors, which Harry strongly doubted, the bodies were much thicker here than at the shallows.

It was a long time before Dumbledore finally broke the silence.

"I'd long suspected. Sirius would scarcely believe it, young Regulus."

Harry snapped out of his aimless search and ran towards Dumbledore. It was very difficult to see, as this body was near the bottom of the lake's centre, but with the help of Dumbledore's powerful Lumos charm and a good angle with the enchanted binoculars, he could make out the beginnings of aristocratic, brooding features in the clump of icy bodies. A younger, smaller Sirius. He couldn't have been much older than Harry.

"He drank the potion, didn't he? But how…?"

Dumbledore looked so very tired.

"Summon Kreacher, Harry."

Harry did so, and the baleful house elf appeared with a loud crack.

"Filthy half-bloods always bothering poor Kreacher. What would – "

His bullfrog voice erupted into a plaintive scream as his eyes took in their surroundings. Harry approached, hoping to calm him down, but his panic only grew as he began to backpedal to the water.

"Stop, Harry."

It was difficult to watch as the house elf, deranged in his trauma, hyperventilated, and began to beat himself with a nearby rock.

"Stop! Remain still!"

Kreacher, bound to follow Harry's orders, dropped the rock to the floor. His body followed as he trembled and moaned.

"Fawkes, bring the locket," Dumbledore ordered.

The phoenix disappeared and reappeared with a gentle crackle of fire, the chains of the two severed halves of the necklace held delicately within his beak. He dropped them at Kreacher's feet.

The pitiful creature looked up from the ball he'd curled himself into. Upon sighting the broken Horcrux at his feet, he burst into ugly tears.

"We found Regulus, Kreacher," Dumbledore said patiently. "I suspect we finished the task he set out to do all those years ago."

The words only further encouraged Kreacher's breakdown. It took a long time for the overwhelmed house elf to come to his senses, but he looked at them without his habitual baleful eye for the first time. He explained the story of how Regulus met his untimely end, the many attempts to destroy the Horcrux, and the grubby fingers of Mundungus almost ruining everything.

"The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black owes a debt," he grumbled, clutching the now mended necklace to his bony chest. "Even if it is to two filthy half-bloods."

Harry and Dumbledore shared an amused look.

"Kreacher will prepare the home for the disgusting half – Master Harry's return in the summer."

Harry watched nonplussed as he suddenly disappeared with a loud crack.

"You have a newly acquired ally," Dumbledore said. "As you've discovered from the tale of Regulus, the willing loyalty of a house elf is no small thing."

"I still don't think I can trust his cooking."

"It will be an acquired taste, I'm sure."

As they made for the boat, Dumbledore stopped him.

"I would extract a promise from you, Harry," Dumbledore said solemnly. "When this is all over, return to this place and cleanse it. I recognised others amongst the dead, and I can't bear to think their bodies would be condemned here forever."

Harry nodded. He didn't think he'd ever see so many dead in a single place ever again.

"Of course."

After a short break for lunch and a quick doze on Harry's part upon their return, Dumbledore rose to his feet, a twinkle in his eyes, as he pushed his desk to the wall with a wave of his wand.

"Whilst Filius has spoken admirably of your capacity for protective enchantments and defensive duelling, he has impressed upon me your need of a complementary offence."

Stifling a yawn, Harry rose to his feet.

"You're right, but I don't intend to fight alone," Harry said.

"An admirable sentiment," Dumbledore said. "Pair and small group duelling isn't uncommon, particularly in formalised settings such as the duelling circuit."

He gave Harry a very intent gaze.

"I must warn you, Harry: the more opponents a wizard is faced with, the less inclined they will be to avoid collateral damage. Even a Death Eater, faced with a single opponent amongst many, will respect the surrounding duels and not interfere, usually."

"We'll be careful."

"That is all I can ask of you," Dumbledore said. "Of your friends, who do you think would best serve as a foil to your duelling style?"

Ron and Tracey were immediately out. Ron, whilst he was improving rapidly, was of a similar mould as Harry. They were both slower-paced, being reactive duellists. Tracey was even more defensive than him.

Daphne was straightforward. If against Daphne, you knew to expect the floor to begin to warp under intense heat and to have your best Flame-Freezing Charm ready. Of the remaining three, she was arguably the slowest, preferring to lean on her careful pyromancy and powerful, brutish even, hexes and curses. The room for error for both her and her opponent were very narrow, so duels involving her ended very suddenly. It made it difficult to truly gauge her ability as the very nature of her style meant always having to hold back. She struggled against Hermione, however, due to being so one-dimensional.

Hermione was experimental. She attempted to fuse multiple disciplines of magic into her style, seeking the magical mastery of a generalist. Like everyone else, however, she also did lean into certain areas of strength. Water transfiguration, conjuration and an encyclopaedic knowledge of charms and hexes were her bread and butter and key to her free-flowing offence. In her brilliance, she'd created a variant of Dumbledore's famous fire rope conjuration using water. It was her calling card to finish a duel with it, freezing the frothing rope of water around her victim into an imprisonment of chilling ice. A spell for every situation served her practicality, but her lack of instinct could sometimes paralyze her when put under heavy pressure. Blaise was by far her worst matchup.

Blaise was vicious. He wore his opponents down under a reflex-enhanced barrage of borderline Dark curses and otherwise benign Charms. Whilst he attempted to stymie your senses with enchanted smoke and mist, preying on you under heavy Disillusionment, your clothing would come to life. Your tie would attempt to strangle you, shirt sleeves would attempt to steal your wand, and trouser hems would extend to trip you. Anything he could use against you; he would find a way. It could be an overwhelming assault, especially if Flitwick included obstacles in the arena which he would aim to animate. He occasionally dropped the subterfuge for a more traditional duelling approach, abusing his fast wand work to chain spells together. If you could weather the storm and prevent him from using the Supersensory Charm liberally, it was manageable. Of his friends, none had come so close to beating him as many times as Blaise had.

"Probably Blaise. He's the most aggressive duellist of my friends."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Still, let us see what offence we can make from your ability with protective magic."

And so began a lecture on the usage of wards offensively. It sounded oxymoronic to Harry, but Dumbledore demonstrated the ability to redirect spells at the point of cast through parrying. More relevant to Harry, he demonstrated how Shield Charms, and more draining spells like salvio hexia and protego horribilis, could be used to make spells fizzle or even backfire. The awe in Harry only grew as every hex or charm Harry threw at Dumbledore either fizzled upon leaving his wand or refused to work at all. He'd never thought of using wards like this.

Then it was his turn, and it was one of the most difficult things Harry had ever attempted. After the umpteenth time of being hit by Dumbledore's Tickling Charm, Harry was beginning to get frustrated.

"Take your time, Harry. Aim to envelop my magic as it builds. You're a capable wizard, so your senses are more than sharp enough. To react in time, you must silently cast and without wand movement. It is not easy."

Harry continued to struggle, growing increasingly frustrated. He needed to get this.

"Severus is rather marvellous at this technique, though he elects only to parry. His conception is similar to that preferred by the most elite of French duellists. Coupé au poignet – to cut an opponent off at the wrist. Render your opponent's wand useless."

At the mention of Snape, Harry's determination resurged. Focusing his intent, he willed his Shield Charm to envelop Dumbledore's wand-arm as the familiar Tickling Charm built up. To cut him off at the wrist as the French described it. As much as he was using the Shield Charm, he was asserting his will and intent on Dumbledore's spell. It wasn't quite the immediate halt Dumbledore achieved, but the white flare of the charm from Dumbledore's wand receded as quickly as it appeared.

Some of the headmaster portraits, watching silently from the wall, gave Harry a polite applause.

"Great work, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "Let us see if you can do it again."

They practised together. It was tricky to find the right timing on cancelling some of the less flashy spells, but eventually Harry found a rhythm. Even silently, Dumbledore was heavily broadcasting his spells for Harry's benefit with slow, laborious wand movements, but it was appreciated. He'd further develop this skill in private with the aid of a partner.

"Good. If you become sufficiently skilled at it, you could even provoke your opponent's spells to backfire by actively shaping the spell. This is well into the realms of advanced wandless magic, but it's something to bear in mind," Dumbledore said. "However, recall the fate of poor Gilderoy. It is not something for a friendly duel or for opponents of equal or greater strength."

Harry nodded as he managed to nullify Dumbledore's Disarming Charm one last time.

"Let us now explore your affinities, Harry. We know you have a gift for protective enchantments, and I have some theories about additional disciplines you have talent in. I shall skip enchanting, however. Vittoria is world-renowned for it, and I must leave her with some work to do," Dumbledore said.

They began with the elements. A sphere of flame in a pale imitation of Daphne. Grumbling protests from the portraits as a strong squall of wind buffeted them in place. A wide fountain of clear water blossoming from the tip of Harry's wand.

"I don't know any earth or lightning spells."

Dumbledore nodded. "We'll begin with earth. Let me first show you a favourite of Kingsley's."

With a wide wave of his wand, Dumbledore clearly enunciated, "Protego duro."

A familiar tall wall of earth divided the office. Dumbledore destroyed it with a careful flick before vanishing the mess. He then directed Harry to try.

In a few attempts, Harry had a modest knee-high wall of clay. A light kick of his shoe crumbled it into dust.

"With practice, I think I could make use of that, but it doesn't really grab me like warding does," Harry said.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Lightning magic, whilst still elemental in nature, is largely studied under the umbrella of weather magic. True manifestations that create localised disturbances of weather are very tricky. Let us begin with the Discharge Charm."

"Fulgurum."

Long arcs of lightning were emitted from the tip of Dumbledore's wand, splintering and reforming unceasingly. Without much effort, the office was drowned in the noises of surging electricity as Harry's wand joined the tumult.

"Shut it off!"

"I must agree with my fellow headmaster. Turn off that racket!"

"Peace, McIntosh and Dippet," Dumbledore said to the griping portraits.

Harry laughed as they both ended the charm.

"Most marvellous, Harry," Dumbledore said with a genial smile. "I can lend you some texts, but if you wish to truly approach this field with the intent of gaining mastery, you will need to study with the weather witches of Congo or audit some classes at Castelobruxo."

"And how long would I be studying for?"

Dumbledore frowned a little. "I can't say. Fire has always been my strength. I have only dabbled in lightning transfiguration."

Harry was sure Dumbledore's idea of dabbling was equivalent to a normal person's lifetime of work, but he didn't press. He didn't much like the uncertainty anyway about time investment. Time was precious when there were other potential options.

"I believe Mr Zabini's paternal family could help you make the necessary contacts for the former, though you will likely have to barter. Castelobruxo is only open to exchange students during the spring and summer terms."

It was an option. Harry was about to ask about other disciplines when the fireplace erupted with Moody's arrival.

"Afternoon, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, Alastor. You're early."

Moody ambled over, patting Harry roughly on the shoulder. "Alright, lad?"

Harry frowned a little, disappointed at the interruption, but nodded. "Good to see you, Moody."

"We shall return to this lesson tomorrow, Harry. I shall fill you in on the reason for Alastor's sudden appearance."

They returned to their seats after Dumbledore conjured an extra for Moody.

"Scrimgeour has afforded us some freedom. We are not required to directly liaise with him or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on a day-to-day basis. This is an exceptional position for the Order. In the past, it was either complete secrecy with regard to our activities or collaboration under heavy micromanagement. In the interest of building good faith, I believe we should first do something immediately useful to the Ministry."

Harry's lip curled at eschewing the immediate threat of Voldemort for politicking.

"Get used to doing things you don't want to, Potter," Moody grumbled.

"Welcome to politics, Harry," Dumbledore said after a light chuckle. "This is something that I think you'll be interested in, however. The British Ministry maintains an accord with the Norwegian and Danish Ministries to assist with dispersing Dementor swarms. They're a scourge to all coastal countries within the North Sea. It's in the best interests of all that they are not allowed to congregate and breed."

"Iceland and Greenland also, but we'll be herding this swarm to the east," Moody added.

"The swarm in East London?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"And if I want to bring some of my friends along?"

"It will be dangerous, Harry."

Harry was adamant. As much as Dumbledore had already begun to restore Harry's confidence in him, his choices were a cautionary tale. It would be a miserable life to hold everything so close to his chest. Even knowing his friends would be in grave danger, a selfish part of him just wanted them there with him.

"They're of age and I trust them, Professor. Let them decide. I don't want to do everything alone."

Moody nodded, satisfied. "Granger and Weasley are near members of the Order already. Don't forget that we had Potter's parents right out of school, Albus."

It wasn't perhaps the endorsement that Harry had anticipated, but it seemed good enough for the headmaster as he sighed in defeat.

"Very well. I trust you'll want Mr Zabini as well?"

At Harry's nod, Dumbledore cast the Patronus Charm, creating three brilliant phoenixes. They vanished into the walls in search of their targets.

Soon after, Kingsley emerged from the Floo. He advanced on Harry following a brisk greeting to Dumbledore and Moody, a wide smile on his face, and gave Harry a vigorous handshake.

"I never did thank you. I owe you for that ward last night," Kingsley said. "Wouldn't have been able to take Yaxley down without it."

Harry smiled back. "Think nothing of it. You'd have done the same."

Behind Kingsley, a familiar blond wizard was approaching. Square-jawed and stocky. There was a hollowness in his eyes that reminded Harry of Sirius. Azkaban.

"Sturgis? You're alright?"

The wizard gave Harry an equally robust handshake, nodding sombrely.

"The very same. Pleasure to see you again, Harry."

Sturgis turned to Moody.

"Unfortunately, Hestia is part of the Ministry squad of Hit Witches and Wizards on the hunt for Macnair since the giant fiasco in the Yorkshire Dales last month. Tonks and Remus are otherwise indisposed."

In response to Harry's quizzical expression, Kingsley shook his head.

"Some wounds go beyond the physical, Harry," Dumbledore murmured, looking especially grave, "but I feel in time, when Tonks is ready, she will return to us."

It sounded incredibly ominous to Harry, but he could only hope he'd see them both soon.

"Nobody else can fly a broom competently enough and cast a corporeal Patronus," Kingsley murmured. "Emmeline is dearly missed."

They idly chatted as they waited for Harry's friends to appear. Ron and Hermione entered together, quickly shadowed by Blaise, and they all beelined to Harry.

"I'll let Moody or Professor Dumbledore explain after some introductions for Blaise's sake."

Blaise was formally introduced to Sturgis, Kingsley, and Moody.

"Sturgis Podmore. Once Unspeakable in the Creation Department. I should soon be reinstated thanks to Dumbledore. A pleasure to meet you, Blaise."

"And you."

Moody stepped forward, wooden leg clunking against the floor.

"A pleasure, lad. Alastor Moody. Retired auror. Consultant now, apparently. Call me Mad-Eye or Moody. Call me Alastor or Professor if you're looking for a bollocking."

"Alastor," Dumbledore interjected.

"Or you're Albus. Or my ex-wife. Not much difference really."

The office filled with laughter. Harry could just picture his parents and Sirius here, years ago, enjoying a moment of levity before throwing themselves back into danger. It was a beautiful picture, especially when superimposed with his friends in the present.

"Now, now, let's try and remain serious as we finish introductions," Dumbledore said, though his eyes had a familiar twinkle.

Kingsley finished chuckling and stepped forward. "Mr Almeida, in the flesh. I'd quite like to hear the story of that at some point. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Auror."

Blaise smiled, taking each Auror's hand in turn. "Nice to meet you both. Kingsley, I'm afraid I'm keen to keep up some level of mystery."

Dumbledore cleared his throat as the chatter died down. "I suppose I should fill you all in on the task of this afternoon. You are welcome to back out if the danger is too high."

Harry was relieved his friends only grew determined at that warning.

The Portkey dropped them off on the side of the Thames next to an abandoned industrial estate. Traffic was faint in the distance, and no pedestrians could be found in immediate view on their side of the river. A large barge floated down the murky waters beyond the railing, klaxon sounding powerfully as it approached a bend.

They walked along the riverfront under the weak drizzle. The area was one undergoing a rapid regeneration, with new builds littering the sky and the brownfields. Yet, even in the late afternoon of a weekday, there was no sign of anyone manning the scaffolding or the dig sites. The desolate silence was disconcerting. One towering block of flats, half-complete, loomed on the other side of the river like a barren husk.

"We're near Canning Town," Hermione said.

"Dean's family lives not too far from this area," Blaise remarked.

"Newham, right?" Hermione asked.

Blaise nodded. "He mentioned Muggle news going on about a potential drug epidemic near Stratford rendering people braindead a few weeks back. Guess they meant soulless Muggles."

"That's a little further to the north," Hermione added.

Harry's mind turned towards Dudley's narrow escape. "Do Dementors usually prey on Muggles?"

"When they're starved or breeding," Moody said. "We're dealing with both, I reckon."

"For decades, I have expressed that the Dementors were an existential threat to both wizards and Muggles. I'm heartened that at least the Danes and Norwegians are taking them seriously."

"No surprise there," Sturgis said. "A historical British problem has become one for all of Northern Europe."

Dumbledore bid them to halt by holding his wand aloft.

"Repello Muggletum," he intoned.

The spell sent a palpable sense of heat down Harry's spine. He could feel the magic Dumbledore had woven, the heavy intent, move across the entire length of the visible river. A small dinghy in the water did an abrupt U-turn, once slowly approaching their position now heading back from whence it came. It was awe-inspiring and humbling to see Dumbledore make Harry's own prowess seem so miniscule.

"We all recall the plan?" Dumbledore asked.

A chorus of nods answered him.

"Very well. Kingsley you will be bringing up the rear. I trust you can maintain the Tracking Charms to ensure none of our number fall behind without our knowledge."

He inclined his head. "Of course, Dumbledore."

"Alastor. If for whatever reason I must break away to prevent us from being overwhelmed, and I suspect I will have to with how advanced this swarm likely is, I will entrust you to lead in my stead."

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody boomed.

Harry and Ron jumped. Hermione jerked, and Blaise watched on, impassive.

Moody gave Blaise an approving nod before scowling at the rest of them. "Focus, you lot. I've heard a lot about your adventures, a lot about your mistakes both last year and yesterday, in fact. We'll do things the right way or we may just return you to your loved ones a soulless shell. Do you understand?"

"Moody," Kingsley said sharply.

Ron nodded grimly. "We understand. This isn't a game."

"You're right there, sonny."

Harry, unfazed by Moody's scare tactics, simply said, "There'll be no mistakes this evening."

Even Blaise, barely hiding the daggers in his eyes, nodded stiffly.

Hermione lifted a finger to the clouds. "Look there."

The clouds on this day were a murky grey and low to the ground, but as Harry looked closely, he could make out patches of a deep black flitting within.

"Well spotted, Ms Granger," Dumbledore said.

Without further words, they all mounted their brooms. Hermione sidled in behind Ron, securing herself with a Sticking Charm.

They all tagged the nearest person to them in their arrowhead formation with a Tracking Charm before Dumbledore walked round, tapping each of them on the head with his strange variant of the Disillusionment Charm that rendered them invisible but still allowed them to see each other.

Harry palmed his Firebolt, ignoring the slight rush of trepidation in his heart. As much as he was willing to be brave, Dementors were his worst nightmare. He focused on the feel of his friends' magic: Hermione, exacting and insistent; Ron, warm and light; Blaise, tightly coiled yet yielding whenever Harry drew close. It was those bonds that gave him the courage to hurtle towards the clouds with the rest unafraid.

With increasing proximity, the colour in the world seemed to bleed away, the grey becoming all-encompassing. It was as if the malaise of the Dementor's horrible presence had been imprinted upon his vision. The sounds of his own heavy breathing began to be smothered by the, for now, faint screams of his mother resounding in his mind.

"Impervius and Warming Charms now. We'll likely be crossing the cloud layer," Dumbledore ordered.

Then they were spotted. Dozens of Dementors emerged from the clouds as if eagerly birthed from them. Harry steeled himself, following Moody into a wide bank as they were followed by the skeletal abominations. Still more emerged, some from further afield in the cloud layer. They seemed never-ending, but they were chasing almost half-heartedly. Remaining so far away that Harry could barely feel their chill. He knew that they were sentient, intelligent even, so his apprehension only grew.

"Above us!" Sturgis roared.

Descending in a rapid spiral from above, more Dementors approached.

"And below!" Ron yelled.

A long procession of Dementors flew up the river, snaking around multiple towering blocks of flats and flying fast towards them.

Dumbledore flew to meet them. Perhaps attracted to the strength of the headmaster's soul or angered by his blatant disregard of the danger they posed, a large portion of the Dementors flanking from above followed him. Fawkes burst into being on Dumbledore's shoulder with a defiant melody as he vanished down towards the river and out of immediate sight.

"Get some height and stick together! We're moving fast!" Moody roared.

They pitched upwards and accelerated, quickly breaking through the clouds. The water slid off his robes, but the sudden drench of his face was bracing, even as the water quickly slewed off due to the Impervius Charm.

It was quiet for some time after their break for it. Ron banked in tight to him and Sturgis. He was pale with stress but held his head high, scanning the skies frantically. Hermione clung to his back silently, eyes closed as she visibly calmed herself after the violent climb. Hyperventilating in the thin air at their altitude was a recipe for disaster.

"Think they're gone?"

The screaming in Harry's head had never stopped. When tempted with the magic of a witch or wizard's soul, a Dementor would never give up so easily.

"No."

With every passing second as they shot further to the east, the loud roar of the wind buffeting them intensified, and the sky darkened to an ominous grey. Harry's mother's last struggles underwent a steady crescendo in his ears.

Harry dared a brief look around.

It was as if multiple vortices of living, black cloth were gallivanting in the clouds, below them, behind them, above them. They steadily advanced like a ravenous eclipse, devouring the weak summer sun and hope in their wake. Harry had never seen so many Dementors before, not even during his last stand with Sirius those years ago.

It was difficult for Harry to simply keep his wand braced in his palm against his broomstick, knowing that a single incantation could bring relief from the ice inching down his spine. These tormenting memories of his mother had never been so loud.

"There must be hundreds!" Hermione shrieked from Harry's left.

"Don't panic, lass."

Blaise swept across him in a long arc, eyes hard and hair trailing in the wind.

"Stay strong!" Kingsley shouted, breaking through the deafening screams of Harry's mother. "We make for the mouth of the Thames!"

The throng of Dementors below them began a rapid climb, aiming to box them in. Their counterparts above mirrored. Whilst Harry could outpace them on his Firebolt, the others not so much. They had mere seconds to act, so Harry pointed his wand to his throat.

"Bubble-Head Charm, bank right and climb. We're going higher," Harry cried under the Sonorous Charm.

"You heard Potter!"

They ascended through another layer of clouds. Even with the bubble surrounding his head, just the harsh sensation of the icy water of the cloud splashing and sliding across his neck almost locked him up. If not for their Warming Charms, they'd all be insensate with the damp cold.

"Plane!"

In response to Hermione's yell, they all corkscrewed low and further to the right in a half-dive, barely avoiding the wing of a jumbo jet descending to low altitude, clad in the simple livery of British Airways. The Dementors bounced and ricocheted off the aeroplane with little worry for injury or even physics. In fact, it would seem the collision made them faster, angrier, as they soared freely through the air without care of simple things like air resistance. They were unrelenting. Hungry.

"I think we need to descend!" Sturgis yelled, his voice amplified over the violent whipping of the wind. "They're all over us."

They descended to the Thames, avoiding the clouds this time round, and zoomed over the fast-moving water. Far behind them was the Thames Barrier. Ahead of them, the mouth of the Thames leading to the North Sea beckoned.

"Dumbledore!" Kingsley called out.

Dumbledore appeared from above in a near vertical descent, laid almost flat against his broom with Fawkes flying alongside him, and a horde comparable in size to their own tailing him. In a sudden eruption of flame, he and Fawkes disappeared before reappearing in the midst of their formation. Fawkes trilled a triumphant melody, lifting their spirits as they tightly banked as one to face their pursuers.

"To the sky," Dumbledore demanded. "Don't forget the Statute!"

The harsh vertical angle of their rapid ascent made Harry's broom vibrate and shudder, but he only accelerated more. Fawkes took point, flying into the heart of the swarm with a screech. The Dementors, being foul and tainted creatures, dispersed at his mere presence. The rest of them followed into the hole Fawkes had punched through the swarm, gaining more and more speed as they raced upward. The Dementors weren't so cowed as to give up. They simply regrouped to chase from behind, and in no time at all, they were surrounded in a veil of skeletal hands and gaping mouths.

To his right, Blaise entered a sudden, tight tailspin to escape a Dementor that had grasped onto his robes, the Slytherin Chaser classic for bludger evasion, before rocketing upwards once more. Grasping hands trailed against Harry's broom and his legs, but he kept climbing undeterred. To his left, Hermione was screaming something at a determined Ron, but it was all drowned out by the heart-wrenching sounds of his mother. Sturgis, ahead of him, entered an erratic set of manoeuvres as a group of Dementors almost boxed him in. Fawkes burst into being next to the stocky wizard in a repellent wall of flame to relieve him before disappearing once more.

It was madness, and Harry's clammy hands began to shake as a Dementor flew alongside him, void beckoning from its yawning mouth. Its raspy breathing grew louder until it was all he could hear, looming ever closer with every sapping inhale it took. Multiple broom lengths, then a single broom length. Harry just felt numb and unbearably nauseous as it sidled beside him, hand outstretched. His muscles refused to respond, locked up in the bone-aching chill and misery.

Dumbledore appeared on his other side. Stern and confident, a gentle smile on his face, and the sight was enough for Harry to finally take heart. They banked harshly to the left together, away from oblivion, and angled ever more steeply upward. His broom trembled under the now near vertical flight, the charms complaining as they were pushed to the absolute limit. They crossed another layer of clouds one last time, Fawkes trilling and crowing like a loud bugle, and Dumbledore's wand flared with a violent glow of heat that finally dispelled the latent chill that made Harry's very bones ache.

At the sign, they hastily reassembled. The Dementors prepared to throw themselves at the waiting feast, mindlessly ravenous after the long chase. All faces in Harry's view were wan and pale, even Moody's, but most importantly unbowed.

"Now!" Dumbledore ordered in a harsh, powerful voice.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A menagerie of animals took to the sky, radiance following in their wake as they moved to corral the Dementors. Harry's stag charged along the sides of the horde accompanied by Sturgis' unruly Scottish Highland bull and mirrored by Fawkes. Hermione's otter paddled through the air alongside Ron's eager Jack Russell Terrier to encircle from above. A honey badger circled Moody before approaching the fray from below with claws first. Blaise and Kingsley's cats prowled the perimeter for stragglers and plugged gaps. Shining most brilliant of all, an echo of Fawkes loomed in front of their formation, imperious and almost blinding. Like the true phoenix, it was a potent guardian as the rest of the Patronuses herded their quarry into a tight ball of writhing cloaked, desiccated flesh.

"I've never seen anything quite like this," Moody said. "What have you lot been up to, Kingsley?"

"We've been overextended for many months," Kingsley said with a grim expression. "Robards has pushed for approval of a dispersal order since late Christmas, multiple times in fact, but Thicknesse always squashed it. I'd say that Imperius Curse really set us back, but we all know Thicknesse."

"Better Muggles suffer than magicals," Hermione said bitterly.

"Unfortunately, that is a prevailing viewpoint," Dumbledore said. "This infestation has been allowed to fester uninterrupted for at least a year, I daresay."

"Good thing we got here sooner rather than later," Ron said. "Wouldn't want another one hundred of those things."

With warmth and awareness returning, Harry left the conversation and moved to the far right of the group. It was difficult to resist the urge to vomit, and he wanted privacy in the event he succumbed.

Blaise raced to him. Wind-battered, waterlogged and sallow-skinned to the point of looking sickly, he was a welcome sight.

"Alright?" Blaise asked in a low voice. "I saw your close call."

"Will be," Harry muttered, hating Dementors more than ever. "They've always affected me badly."

Blaise said nothing more and flew alongside him. Harry accepted the offer with a sigh, gently leaning against him with his eyes closed as he fought the nausea. It was with great appreciation that Harry accepted the added heat of the Warming Charm on Blaise's robes.

"Thanks."

Blaise just hummed under his breath, wrapping his free arm around Harry's shoulders to meet the lean.

"I think I preferred Greyback," Blaise quipped in a low tone.

"Even with your hair the way it is?"

Harry watched Blaise pull away to inspect a particularly ratty braid, trying not to laugh at his horrified expression. It was one of the better ones, considering the heavy weight of the water in the clouds had unravelled quite a few into a shock of frizz. With his leopard still prowling, head low to an imaginary savannah, he couldn't immediately fix his current impression of a drowned cat.

"I may have spoken too soon."

Harry snickered. "I think the Impervius Charm can only do so much."

Sturgis approached wand aloft, with a tight smile on his face. "Great flying. Both of you. Alright, Harry?"

"I'm good."

"Good enough for some chocolate?"

They all took a moment to recuperate, nibbling at chocolate and sharing tea from a bottomless thermos that Moody had brought. Unheeded, the Dementors continued to groan and rasp from their cage of silvery guardians.

Once the colour had been restored to their faces, they reassembled around their quarry.

"Now we just need to escort our haul. Carl Nielsen, Danish Auror, will be waiting for us along with other members of his squad off the coast of Norwich."

"About an hour's flight," Kingsley offered. "If you tire and need a rest, say something. Now they're confined, we can rotate the Patronuses if need be."

Like Dumbledore and Moody, Harry did not rotate out. By the time they reached the rendezvous point, his arm was shaking. It was with immense relief that he dismissed his Patronus as the large crowd of Danes approached them. The screams of his mother briefly intensified before a wave of animals emerged to suppress the Dementors once more.

Moody flew up to their leader, a lanky blond wizard with a poncy moustache in warm, burgundy robes. A few caught sight of Harry, eyes lingering on his scar, and nudged their neighbours.

"You Brits never do things by half-measures, do you? When you told me you'd be doing this undermanned, you should have mentioned you'd be bringing Dumbledore, Mad-Eye," Nielsen said.

"And Harry Potter."

"Send my best to Minister Mikkelsen," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Nielsen nodded before turning to a wrinkly, weatherbeaten wizard to his right.

"How many do you reckon, Jens?"

"At least six hundred. Haven't seen anything quite this bad in some time."

Moody, having taken note of the bone-tired exhaustion of their group, took mercy on them.

"Do you have further need of us?" Moody asked.

"We should be fine from here. What a horde."

"What a horde," a member of his group echoed.

"We have two groups from the Norwegian Ministry waiting further north. The plan is to disperse them in all directions in the middle of the North Sea," Nielsen said.

Dumbledore frowned. "The Dutch and Germans won't be pleased."

"Then they should join the treaty. We cannot afford the manpower or time to chase them into the Arctic Circle."

"On the bright side, they won't have sufficient numbers to breed wherever they end up."

They watched as the Danish contingent herded the Dementors further over the North Sea until they were mere specks in the distance.

"They'll be back," Sturgis said. "They always are."

"If only we could destroy them," Ron said.

"No doubt, but this is a victory all the same," Moody grumbled. "Don't let me hear you two being sourpusses."

They all chuckled. Ron's ears were a brilliant red.

"Marvellous work everyone," Dumbledore said. His tone was so warm that even Moody cracked a grotesque-looking smile. "Let's return. We may just make dinner."

It was the best news Harry had heard all day.