"Damn, it looks like security is twice as strong," grunted Faraday, staring at the screen. The screen showed the perspectives of the CCTV cameras on the outskirts of the town, looking up at the hill where the Wizarding Factory was located. Now that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Faraday had read the email that would break the Fidelius Charm, they could see the factory, but there was a new problem. After Harry's discovery, the Factory was so heavily guarded that it would be impossible to get in without getting caught. Faraday pointed to a small flying object hovering over the barbed wire on the screen.

"Well, look at that — now we have surveillance drones flying over the fence. . . and what's that at the entrance?" He pointed to a barrier with what looked like a bucket hanging from it, spraying water at people coming and going. "Are they spraying holy water or something, thinking it will scare away wizards and witches?"

"It must be a Thief's Downfall!" exclaimed Hermione. "Ron, Harry, don't you remember when we broke into Gringotts? We bathed in that water and all our disguises came off."

"Of course I remember," said Harry gloomily. "So now the Polyjuice Potion won't work. . . . It's all my fault."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, mate," said Ron. "You just had bad luck running into Eisenbein."

"Yeah, it would have been the same for any of us," cut in Hermione.

Despite his friends' heartfelt consolation, Harry couldn't stop blaming himself. It would have been too easy for Eisenbein, who had followed Harry since Voldemort's first defeat and was thoroughly familiar with him, to recognize him. If only someone else had infiltrated the Factory instead of him. . . . If only he had put aside his misplaced pride and truly cared about his family and friends. . . . Eisenbein's words about his recklessness echoed in his mind.

"We can't take it back now anyway," said Harry at last. Once it was out of his mouth, his waning resolve seemed to grow stronger. "We'll take another shot. We'll be able to break into the Factory again sooner or later."

Nevertheless, Dumbledore's Army had to return to a life of inactivity for the time being. Random scouting efforts were now focused on the town of Mould-on-the-Wold, but the Dawn Breakers rarely ventured outside the heavily guarded Factory. Neville had bravely approached the hilltop on his own, circling the area to see if there was any way to break in, and had found a loose section of fence, but it seemed impossible to get there without being spotted by the drones. Ron and Hermione had kept Harry out of direct reconnaissance, citing the importance of their leader, but that didn't make him feel any better. To ease his mind, he made it a new routine to join Faraday in the basement to watch the CCTV feeds.

"Well, nothing new today," said Harry as he looked at the monitor. "The perimeter is still on high alert, and the Thief's Downfall is still up and running."

"It's about time we found a way in other than the front door," said Faraday. "I've been trying to hack into these drones lately. They look like the kind the military uses, and if I can get the exact model name, I might be able to disable them for a while. . . "

Faraday moved his mouse to bring up a white window and began typing some complex code quickly on his keyboard. He was probably writing a program to hack the drone. Harry thought it would be easier to study runes or Gobbledegook than to learn such a complicated computer language, and began to read his own biography, which he had brought along as a pastime. The biography, which he had read at every opportunity since taking it from Scorpius's room, was nearing its end. In its pages, he returned to Hogwarts Castle with his two friends to destroy the last remaining Horcruxes. . . . Toward the final battle to fulfill his destiny of destroying the Dark Lord. After reading all the chapters, Harry closed the book with a sigh. How he wished his story had ended here . . but he was still alive, and more helpless than ever.

"Faraday, I have a confession to make," said Harry impulsively. "I'm actually — I'm not a wizard anymore. . . I was turned into a Muggle by a powerful curse from Eisenbein."

"Really? Since when?" said Faraday, turning in his chair to face him. His half-white, half-red eyebrows were raised in surprise. "It's been a few months now, and I haven't told anyone but Ron and Hermione. . . . It's a very powerful curse, there's no way I can undo it."

"So that's why I haven't seen you using magic lately," Faraday said. "But why don't you tell your family?"

"I can't," said Harry firmly. "I want them to remember me as I was."

"Only if you think so. . . " Faraday said and turned back to his screen. Faraday didn't make as much of a fuss about Harry becoming a Muggle as he'd expected, but strangely it seemed to ease Harry's heart a little.

"Faraday, what do you think I should do now?" said Harry. "I want to fight! Eisenbein and his men are trying to destroy everything I love. I must stop them at all costs, but I'm not a wizard anymore."

"Not a wizard?" said Faraday. "Forgive me for saying so, Harry, but vast majority of people on Earth are born without any magical abilities. But they're still living well, aren't they?"

"But not all of them have to fight enemies who can use magic."

"Well, in those special circumstances, you have to develop your own weapons." Faraday picked up his phone from his desk. "Something like this."

"A phone?" Harry reached into his own pocket and pulled out his own. "But they're so common it's hard to find a Muggle who doesn't have one these days."

"But you're the only one who could use it in the D.A. Well, since all your friends are already good at using magic, it might be nice for you to use a non-magical power."

Harry began tapping on the screen, testing various features he rarely used outside of calls and texts. "Hey, Faraday, what's that app with the blue bird on it? Is that what you call an owl?"

"Hands off the screen!" Startled, Faraday moved his chair closer to Harry, grabbed his phone, and quickly deleted the app. "The official name is Twitter, but I call it the App-Which-Must-Not-Be-Touched. . . . It makes you waste your life doing useless things. I'll have to install some useful apps for you, then."

Faraday spent the next hour installing and teaching him how to use a variety of apps — an emergency app that lets you use GPS without an Internet connection, one that dispatches and lends you drones to deliver supplies, and one that lets you hack into nearby electronics.

"There, not bad for a non-magical thing, huh?" Faraday said proudly when he was finally done. "Well, whether you're a wizard or not, you need never despair, because with the right skills and rational thinking, you can get through any hardship."

"Thank you, Faraday," said Harry sincerely. The warm smartphone in his hand now felt as reassuring as his phoenix wand had once been.

"Wait, I have an idea."

Faraday rose from his seat and walked over to the black device resting on a large table in the corner. To Harry's eyes, the machine, rectangular in shape with glass on the front and sides that revealed the inside, looked a lot like the microwave in the kitchen at number four, Privet Drive. Faraday turned it on and fiddled with it.

"This machine is called a 3D printer. . . . You feed it a drawing of any object or tool you want, and it makes it." Faraday went back to the computer and showed Harry the screen. It showed a three-dimensional drawing of a long wooden stick that bore a striking resemblance to Harry's prized phoenix feather wand.

"This was an old idea of mine," said Faraday, "to have a replica of a famous person's wand fringed and delivered to your world's museum for display. This modeling for your famous wand was done from its sketches." Faraday maneuvered the mouse, and the three-dimensional drawing on the screen became translucent, revealing a small black mechanical device attached to its surface. "And if I attach a Taser gun here, you can use it as a weapon in an emergency. It may be a fake magic wand, but it would be great for self-defense, wouldn't it?"

"A Taser gun?"

"Think of it as a simple weapon that stuns someone. It's not that powerful, but it's pretty effective. . . . Here, I'll add a simple flame effect to make it look really magical."

A few more taps on the keyboard and mouse, and the 3D printer behind them hummed to life. Harry walked over to it with Faraday and watched what was happening through the clear glass. The tiny mechanical hand inside the device moved from side to side, sprinkling a liquid with a wood-like color onto the metal plate, which gradually solidified and turned into a texture similar to tree bark.

"It will take some time to complete. . . . Oh, is this magazine yours?" Faraday said, picking up a very old March's edition of The Quibbler from next to Harry's chair. The magazine contained an interview with Harry about Voldemort's return, and the worn and tattered cover had a large picture of Harry's shyly smiling face. "May I read it? I've already done your biography, but this is new to me."

"Sure, go ahead," Harry readily agreed. "It gave me a really hard time at Hogwarts when it was published."

As they sat in silence, the only sound in the workshop was the whirring of the 3D printer. While Harry familiarized himself with the various apps on his smartphone, Faraday read the magazine meticulously. Finally, with The Quibbler on his lap, Faraday looked up at Harry, the subject of the interview, with sharp, questioning eyes, as if interrogating a suspect.

"I've read it all, but a few questions come to mind. The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey, right?"

"Exactly. Someone disguised as Professor Moody secretly turned it into one so he could take me to the graveyard of Little Hangleton."

"Then why the trophy? Couldn't he have made a Portkey out of your bag or pencil case or whatever you usually use?" said Faraday, frowning. "Then he wouldn't have had to go to all that trouble to get you to win the Triwizard Tournament all year, drink Polyjuice and disguise himself as Mad-Eye Moody. . . . It's a shame he turned into a Death Eater, but imagine if he wanted a career in the Department of Magical Transportation: Everyone would have had to wait a year to get from one point to another."

"Well, the thing is. . . " Harry trailed off, lost in thought. He hadn't given it much consideration because he had been trying to put that horrible incident at the end of his fourth year out of his mind as much as possible. "He probably did it to avoid Dumbledore's eyes, because he always knew what was going on in the school, even if he pretended not to. That's why he kidnapped me and Cedric when everyone thought we were in the maze. Besides, Hogwarts is enchanted; you can't make your own Portkey, so he would have had to use an authorized one."

"Is that so? Hmm, every single person in the Wizarding world speaks very highly of Albus Dumbledore . . . " Faraday shook his head in disagreement. "But I read your biography, and he's not without his faults either; when you were a first year, one of his professors walked around with Voldemort's face on the back of his head, and Dumbledore didn't even notice, and the next year a ten-foot monster snake tried to kill his students through the pipes right under his feet. Besides, he didn't even know where the Chamber of Secrets was that two second years could find — and he would have known where Moaning Myrtle died! And the next year, — maybe it's wise to stop there. . . . It doesn't seem respectful to talk about someone who has passed away," said Faraday quickly as he saw Harry's expression grow darker and darker. He turned to go back to his computer, then, unable to resist, picked up the magazine in his lap again and shook it. "Just one more thing. In the interview you gave, Voldemort took your blood and used it, right? And the Horcruxes were actually the reason for his resurrection."

"Yes, that's right," said Harry. "That's why I worked so hard to destroy all the Horcruxes ever since."

"But couldn't there have been an easier way? If I were you, instead of going to all this trouble to destroy the Horcruxes, why didn't you just . . . " Faraday trailed off, putting down the magazine. "Well, what's the point of talking about it if it's all over?"

As if in response, the 3D printer in the corner chimed. Harry and Faraday rose from their seats and hurried over to it. Putting on a pair of thick gloves, Faraday opened the device and pulled out a long, smoldering rod, letting it cool in the air for a moment. It looked exactly like Harry's phoenix feather wand, but instead of wood, it was made of a smoother, more durable plastic. Harry held out his hand to take it, and it felt heavier than it looked, perhaps because of the Taser inside.

"See that little button in the center? When you press it, a tiny Taser pellet shoots out the end of the wand and temporarily incapacitates the opponent." Faraday showed Harry the location of the black button himself. "Here, hold it up to the wall and fire."

Harry followed his instructions and a red spark similar to a Stunning Spell flashed from the end of the fake wand, accompanied by a small cylindrical object that shot out and stuck into the wall, causing blue sparks to fly around it due to the powerful electric shock.

"Thanks a lot, it's much better than going around unarmed," said Harry, "although it wouldn't do much against a properly trained wizard."

"Hmm, wait a minute . . . " Faraday pulled a round, flat device, slightly smaller than the palm of his hand, from a desk drawer and held it out to Harry. "Here, take this with you. It's an Anti-Stunning device of mine: It has a suction plate that you attach to your skin near your heart."

With a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, Harry carefully unbuttoned the hem of his shirt and slipped the device inside. He fumbled with it, carefully placing it over the scar where Hermione had had to remove Slytherin's locket. Then, with a cool sensation, it stuck firmly and wouldn't come off when he removed his hand.

"What exactly does this thing do?"

"It's a simple principle, really. If you suddenly collapse to the ground, the sensors on the device will detect that you've passed out and give your body a stimulant." Faraday gestured with his fingers as though he were using a syringe. "So even if you're knocked out by a Stunning Spell or other magic, you'll wake up immediately and be able to fight back."

"So I can catch them off guard!" cried Harry. "If I'm lucky, I can use a Taser and stun the enemy."

The thought brought back memories of the horrific scene when he had been cursed with the full Body-Bind Curse and had watched Susan Bonds die before his eyes. . . . The moment when he had been taunted by Eisenbein and his cronies while paralyzed in the darkness of the depths of Gringotts had been one of the most miserable moments of his turbulent life. If he could avoid repeating that experience, he would try anything. Especially considering that the rubber band he had tied his wand to his wrist with, another invention of Faraday's, had been simple yet effective in countering Disarming Charms.

When Harry awoke the next morning, he checked that the Anti-Stunning device he'd attached to the middle of his chest was in place. He slipped the fake wand into his pocket, along with his smartphone, and felt strangely reassured. Maybe this was all part of the adjustment to life as a Muggle. Of course, he'd give anything to be a wizard again, but for now, this was the best he could do.

That morning, there was a meeting of Dumbledore's Army to share what they had learned so far about the Dawn Breakers, so he put on his formal robes and went downstairs to the drawing room. When he entered, almost everyone was already seated around the long table.

"Welcome, Harry!" Cho Chang smiled at him. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Harry nodded in greeting. He quickly looked away from Marietta Edgecombe, who was sitting next to her with a glum expression on her face. Neville, Dean and Seamus rose from their seats to greet him, and George set off a small firecracker as Harry passed in front of him, sending a colorful burst of sparks across the ceiling. Unlike when he had first returned to Dumbledore's army, he no longer felt overwhelmed by his position. These were his friends, his comrades, who were about to join him in a battle to the death. He was willing to lay down his life for them, just as they were willing to lay down theirs for him. Harry walked straight to the head of the table and stood in front of it. At the front of the room, Faraday had already set up a projector screen. It was filled with pictures of the Wizarding Factory taken from above.

"Well, you've all done a great job so far," said Harry. "Thanks to our members who have disrupted some of the Dawn Breakers recently, we've finally located their headquarters." Harry looked at the members of the D.A. one by one and pointed to the projector screen. "This is the Wizarding Factory. At first we couldn't even see it because of the Fidelius Charm, but now we know its basic structure, which is a great achievement."

"So you know where the kidnapped children are, Potter?" snapped Malfoy. A few people, like Ron and George, who had never gotten along with him in the past, looked at him reproachfully for interrupting Harry, but he ignored them and continued, "Surely you haven't forgotten why we're all here in the first place, have you?"

"Of course — we're here to stop the Dawn Breakers," said Harry quickly. "And save the Slytherins in the process —"

"In the process?" Malfoy said, jumping to his feet. "So the lives of Scorpius and the other children are just secondary, to be saved if you can, and given up if you can't? Would you have said that if they were Gryffindor children?"

"Don't threaten my friend, you cunning bastard," Ron said as he pulled out his wand and pointed at Malfoy. "Harry's the boss, and if you don't do as he says, you'd better get out of here, Malfoy."

"I don't think you're doing your best, Potter." Malfoy shot Harry a look, ignoring Ron. "Even if it was your son, do you think you would have gone into the factory and wandered around doing nothing? You ended up getting caught and still don't know where the children are!"

"I have an intuition about their whereabouts." Harry pointed to an outbuilding next to the factory building. It was a rather suspicious building with a red iron gate.

"Right here. The next time we infiltrate the factory, we'll make it a priority to see what's in here."

"Then let's get to work," said Malfoy. "Stalling will only put them in more danger."

"What about the lives of my friends?" Ron narrowed his eyes. "Don't you care if we're in danger?"

Harry gave him a look and turned back to Malfoy. "Malfoy, their lives are safe. The Dawn Breakers have to keep them alive if they want to get the blood."

"But what about Rubeus Hagrid, how is he dead —"

"SHUT UP!" Ron stood up, unable to hold back any longer. His face was now as red as his hair. "Don't you dare say his name! All you did was harass Hagrid when he was alive, and now, because your son . . . "

"Ron, stop it!" shouted Hermione. But Ron had no intention of stopping, and he pushed his chair roughly, knocking it to the floor, and brought his wand closer to Malfoy, who was standing across the table from him.

"He's my last remaining family!" Malfoy shouted, drawing his wand and pointing it at Ron. "You Weasleys are so used to having children that maybe it doesn't matter if one or two die, but I'm different!"

"What did you just say?" George jumped to his feet and pointed his wand at him, his one remaining ear and face flushed red, as was Ron's. So much had happened so quickly that Harry couldn't tell who had cast the curse first.

Suddenly, small red lightning bolts flashed everywhere, and within moments, the room was filled with acrid smoke. The duel was so fierce that it wouldn't be surprising if one of them died. Malfoy was not to be outdone as he fought Ron and George two on one. A curse shot from Ron bounced off where Malfoy was standing, setting off one of the gas lamps on the wall, and another curse sent George spinning backwards in a flash of red light before he could get up.

"Protego!" Hermione put a barrier between Ron and Malfoy, but Ron magically lifted the chair next to Malfoy and tried to bring it down on him. Malfoy ducked and the chair flew into where his head had been and smashed into the wall behind him.

"Harry, do something!" cried Katie, frightened. Harry pulled out his fake wand, but there was no way a Taser would work against real wizards. . . .

"Stop, both of you!" shouted Neville, stepping in front of Ron to stop him. At that moment, Malfoy swung his wand and sent a curse flying, opening a deep gash in Neville's cheek and sending blood flying everywhere. At the sight of the blood, the two of them stopped their fighting. Breathing heavily, Malfoy moved his cold gray eyes to meet the hateful glances that shot back at him, then turned and stalked out of the room without a word.

"Come with me, dear. I'll put some essence of dittany on it." Hannah stepped forward, shivering, and took Neville's arm, leading him outside. Neville smiled at Harry with a bleeding face before walking out the door as if it didn't matter, but it didn't lighten Harry's heart. A familiar feeling of helplessness and despair seemed to coil around him like an invisible snake. He had taken Faraday's advice and thought he could do something important as an ordinary Muggle, but it was an illusion. . . . He couldn't even stop his own colleagues from fighting and hurting each other, let alone fight the enemy.

"That concludes our meeting for today," Hermione said instead of Harry, who remained silent. "Marietta and Cho are in charge of the patrol today, right?"

"No, I'm taking the day off," said Cho. "Anthony will be going with Marietta instead."

After everyone had left the drawing room, Harry sat alone at the table to clear his head. The pitiful fireplace, with the fire extinguished and only the cold black ashes remaining, seemed just like him, and he didn't leave the room until late afternoon, when the sunlight from the curtained window had reached high into the sky. It had been a while since Malfoy had forced him to stop drinking, but the craving for alcohol had returned, as evidenced by the tickle in his throat and the cold feeling in his stomach. If only he could get his hands on a bottle of firewhiskey . . . no, just a sip of it. . . .

Harry wandered aimlessly through the halls and finally found himself outside the manor. Standing in the garden, the cold air seemed to ease his depression. He trudged past the fountain and hesitantly sat down on a bench near the woods, his head thrown back, eyes closed, enjoying the moment of quietness.

"Harry, may I sit down for a moment?"

Harry looked up, startled, at a woman's friendly voice. Cho Chang was standing right in front of him, wearing an awkward smile.

"Er — sure, sit next to me," Harry said, making room for her.

"Thanks." Cho Chang sat down on the bench, running a hand through her long, glossy black hair. They sat wordlessly for a moment. Harry had almost forgotten, but now he remembered the time they had been alone in the Room of Requirement before Christmas, and he had kissed her for the first time under the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. . . . No matter how hard he tried to put it out of his mind, he could still feel the warm, wet feel of her lips on his and the sight of her freckled nose coming closer and closer. He knew he had to get out of here and was about to apologize and leave when Cho spoke.

"Harry, you can't do magic right now, can you?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the sudden question caught him off guard. Realizing how stupid he must look, he closed his mouth again and then replied, "What makes you think that?"

"Just the look on your face." Cho blushed slightly, as if she'd said something that sounded ridiculous even to herself. "You see, I married a Muggle, and he used to have a look similar to yours whenever I magicked."

"What look?" asked Harry, and Cho turned her head to look him straight in the eye.

"The same look you have now. The look of envy and longing you try so hard to hide," she said, trying to keep her tone light, but unable to hide the bitterness in her voice. As tears formed in Cho's wide eyes, Harry remembered how often she had cried in his fifth year, grieving over Cedric's death. When he'd heard she'd married a Muggle, he'd genuinely wished her happiness, but apparently her life hadn't turned out the way he'd hoped either.

"Yeah, you're right, I'm not a wizard anymore," said Harry sternly. "Eisenbein made me this way, and I'll never be able to use magic again. . . . I'm still keeping it a secret from all but a few people."

"Is that why you ran away from home, so your family wouldn't know?"

Harry tried to answer, but his throat closed, so he just nodded. He lifted his head to look up at the blue sky, his eyes seemingly clouded with lingering tears.

"It's been a long time since I left my husband, too," Cho said in a trembling voice. "My husband and I were happy at first, but as life went on, he became jealous of my magic. . . . When I did the things he had to work so hard for with a simple wave of my hand, he became more and more intimidated, and eventually he started to get angry with me."

"The same thing happened to my aunt. She disowned my mother out of jealousy," Harry said, remembering Aunt Petunia's long, horse-like face. Now that he was a Muggle himself, he understood a bit why she had always been so irritating.

"What finally made him explode was a letter from Hogwarts. My daughter could use magic and my husband wanted to stop her from becoming a witch. We fought very badly and in our anger we said things to each other that we would never normally say . . . " Cho's slender shoulders lifted slightly and her hands in her lap began to tremble. "It was then that we went our separate ways . . . I still love him to this day, but I can't go back."

"That's too bad, Cho," said Harry. "I thought I was the only one in pain, but I guess I was wrong. . . . We all had places that hurt."

"Harry, I'll tell you what I couldn't tell him," Cho said, looking straight at him, her voice free of tremors. Her eyes, though still watery, now held steely determination instead of sadness. "You shouldn't be ashamed that you're not a wizard — if there's anything to be ashamed of, it's being ashamed of not being a wizard. Wizard or not, you're still our leader, no matter what anyone says. Okay?"

Harry just nodded. He felt warm inside, like he'd just had a big shot of firewhisky.