Chapter Thirty-Eight

A/N: All fully italicized text comes from JKR's DH. Everything you recognize is hers; I make no money. As usual, my undying gratitude to Shellsnapeluver, RedOrchid, and OpalJade for their help and insights. They make everything better. Well, guys, we're finally back at Hogwarts!

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He had been summoned in the early evening. Darkness had just fallen over the castle, and Snape was beginning his nightly patrol. Since his argument with Dumbledore, he'd been making it a point to be seen around the school, either lurking in the Defense corridor on the second floor or pacing before the Room of Requirement. He knew that it was unlikely that he would find anything of use. The end approached, and soon the imbecilic Carrows and their punishments would be forgotten in the face of battle. Absentmindedly, Snape stroked the front of his robes. Though there was no visible sign of it, nothing to mar the smooth appearance of the fabric where it buttoned over his chest, he could feel, beneath the cloth, the round crystal phial that housed his memories.

There had been little to do since his return to Hogwarts. He had made the memory chain, and it was always with him now, even as he slept. But after creating such a thing, after planning his final goodbyes, it was difficult to sit and wait. Over the long and tedious days, he had arranged the documents necessary to ensure that Hermione would inherit Spinner's End and the meager amount of gold in his vault at Gringotts. He had completed these tasks slowly and methodically as time dragged on, punctuated only by detention requests and meals. It was strange to find so little to do, so little to occupy him, while he waited for the end to come.

When the Mark burned, he had not bothered to alert anyone to his destination, but hurried to the Appartition point and pressed the Mark firmly. He had not sensed any agitation or anger in the summons--it did not seem to be the one he had been waiting for--though he had no idea where he might end up. In a way, it hardly mattered to him. It felt good to have something to do again, something to report.

When the swirling pressure of Apparition ended, Snape found himself looking over a long, manicured green, dotted here and there with fountains and the beginnings of spring flowerbeds. He was high above the ground, and the night winds whipped his cloak open and spread the material like wings.

He glanced down at the heavy, gray stone on which he stood. He had arrived on the topmost balcony of Malfoy Manor, and the Dark Lord stood alone beside him, his own robes dancing in the breeze.

"Severus," he said, and if such a thing were possible, there was a kind of slimy warmth in his tone.

"My Lord."

"You must be wondering why I have brought you here."

"It is a lovely night. I am glad to share this view with you."

The Dark Lord smirked. "You play your role well, Severus. You have always understood your place. And truth be told, I am pleased that you are here. There is something that I wish to show you."

The hairs on the back of Snape's neck stood up. He had brought to a high, exposed place, alone with the Dark Lord, in the home of his rival. What was he going to be shown?

"You know that I have pushed the boundaries of magic much further than any other. You know that I have sought things that others found impossible... perhaps unnatural."

"Indeed, my Lord. Your innovation--"

"Yes, Severus. That's it exactly--my innovation. I have brought you here to show you my latest innovation."

"Excellent." Snape turned the corners of his mouth up in an approximation of a smile. He watched as the Dark Lord stepped up upon the parapet.

He was an impressive sight, of that there could be no question. His smooth, pale face, the glowing red eyes, his robes infused with their own strange life... Snape watched the Dark Lord as he prepared to fly with a mixture of revulsion and awe. He knew what was coming; he had heard the rumours, though he had not seen it himself on the night that they had pursued Potter to the safe house. But it seemed there was something oddly fitting about what the Dark Lord was about to do. He was no longer human; his soul, the man inside him, was damaged beyond repair, magical or otherwise. Perhaps... perhaps he had simply become something else. Something winged and strange.

"Watch me, Severus," he said and stepped off the edge.

He spoke no incantation, and it seemed at first that it was the wind that held him up, or some kind of Hover Charm, but slowly Voldemort began to move. He did not extend his hands before him, but kept them at his sides, and he pointed his toes as he swam through the air, soaring and diving, his robes flapping around him. Snape watched, mesmerized. The air was cool without being cold, and the smell of new grass traveled up from the lawns. He heard the distant chirpings of insects and saw one of Lucius's peacocks as it strutted self-importantly by the gate. The world was exactly as it had been, and yet, the Dark Lord flew. He did not seem to fight the wind so much as become the wind.

Finally, he arrived back on the balcony where Snape stood.

"Well, Severus?"

"My Lord," he said. "It was as beautiful as anything I have ever seen."

The Dark Lord gave a twisted little smile. "I believe you, Severus. I knew that you alone could appreciate what I have done."

"Thank you for allowing me to witness it."

"Oh, I intend to do more than that, Severus. I intend to share it with you."

"My Lord?"

"You have been a faithful servant. You have helped me to see what I need to defeat Potter. The boy is weak. His power is nothing compared to my own, but he has been aided by deep magics and coincidence. Now I have the tools to undo him, to crash through any barrier that might try to protect him. The time is drawing closer, I think, for our final confrontation. I am nearly prepared now."

"I am glad to hear it, my Lord."

"It has been a long year, and you have suffered, Severus. I have kept you isolated from me inside the school, and you have done your duty without complaint, though I know how you longed to leave the boundaries of the castle and join me, to aid our cause."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I will keep you immobile no longer. He who can fly is not bound by wizarding laws of transportation. He needs no Portkey, no broomstick, no Floo Powder. Anti-Apparition wards do not trouble him. When you can fly, Severus, nothing can keep you from me. If I summon you, I will know that are coming, that no petty obstacles will stop you from reaching your destination."

Snape nodded.

"Give me your arm."

Snape held out his left arm. He was afraid, but he gave no sign. The Dark Lord had not touched his Mark since the day he burned it into Snape's arm with his wand, and the pain then... Everything inside him clenched with the effort not to recoil.

Voldemort brushed Snape's sleeve away, revealing the pale flesh, the harsh black lines.

"Lovely, Severus. So clear, even after all these years." He pressed two white, bony fingers against the Mark, but no pain shot through Snape's skin. Instead, the Mark tingled; it felt infused with warmth and a kind of heavy pressure, which seemed to sink into his body until it dissipated.

"A bit of my power, a bit of my skill is inside you now. Now, we cannot be separated. No matter the distance between us... we shall be united."

"I do not deserve such a gift, but I thank you, my Lord," Snape whispered.

"Would you like to try it?"

He did not want to try it. The thing in his arm... it did not hurt, but its presence was unwelcome. To bear a bit of the Dark Lord... it was abhorrent to him, and he longed to scratch the Mark, to dig at it with his fingernails, to root out whatever disgusting, unnatural thing had been placed inside him.

"Try it, Severus. See what freedom feels like."

Reluctantly, Snape stepped up onto the short stone wall. What if the Dark Lord had simply placed a Warming Charm on his arm? What if he intended to watch as Snape fell, as he crashed, broken, into the gardens below? He took a deep breath.

"Jump," Voldemort hissed.

Snape jumped. His stomach rose into this throat, and reflexively, he brought his knees up. Fast--so fast--

But then it seemed the wind took hold of him and straightened his body out again; it felt as if the air itself had begun to lift him, to guide him along its mysterious, invisible currents. He swooped low along the grounds, skimming the surface of a large fish pond and rising again to court the treetops. He doubled back at the end of the property and glided on a westward breeze back to the parapet. His eyes stung and burned from the wind, and his heart beat erratically, but it had been, in fact, like freedom.

"It is good, is it not?"

"It is... magic."

"Well said. Yes, Severus, it is magic. And it is yours now. But there can be no more of that for the time being. Someone approaches."

Snape followed the Dark Lord's gaze through the darkness to the front gates, where a goblin and a short, blond wizard stood. A goblin. Was it possible that while he had flown about Malfoy Manor, Hermione had gone to Gringotts? The Dark Lord sailed down from the tower as he had before, but Snape had understood that his instructions were to keep the gift a secret, so he turned into the house and ran through it, clattering down the stairs.

"Severus--what?" Narcissa shrieked when she saw him.

"You have visitors, Narcissa. The Dark Lord has gone to the gate to greet them."

Snape hurried across the lawn with Bellatrix, Lucius and Narcissa on his heels.

He arrived in time to hear the Dark Lord's terrible whisper. "And they took? Tell me! What did they take?"

The goblin fell to its knees, wringing its hands and stuttering. "A... a s-small golden c-cup, m-my Lord, and... and the sword of G-Gr-Gryffindor."

Voldemort threw his head back and shrieked with rage, like some primal creature howling at the moon. Snape took a few hasty steps backward as Voldemort drew his wand--Snape's eyes widened as he saw it, and his mind hissed, the Deathstick--and slashed it through the air, beheading the goblin cleanly. Lucius had Narcissa by the hand and was all but dragging her across the grounds to the house in his haste to escape the Dark Lord's wrath. Only Bellatrix and Snape remained.

Voldemort's eyes seemed to spark and burn in his head. He looked deranged with fury. "Go back to the school," he barked at Snape. "I believe that Harry Potter may attempt to break into Hogwarts tonight. If he does, he will likely go to Ravenclaw Tower. I am sending the Carrows to stand guard there," he said, pressing his mark.

"You do not wish me to go myself?"

"No. I want you... available to me... should the need arise."

Snape thought of his words upon the balcony, and knew for certain why Voldemort had bestowed on him this gift. When you can fly, Severus, nothing can keep you from me. If I summon you, I will know that are coming, that no petty obstacles will stop you from reaching your destination.

There was no need to reply, as Voldemort had turned his attention to the witch beside him. As he spun, the last thing Snape saw was Bellatrix as she crumpled to the ground at the Dark Lord's feet.

***

He landed just outside the gates of Hogwarts and sprinted across the grounds.

Potter was coming.

As he burst into the Main Hall, he heard a crash from several floors above. Likely it was the Carrows, alerted by the Dark Lord and running to their post. Grabbing the connecting staircase before it could slide away from him, he shot up the steps to the seventh floor, tearing past the gargoyle and up the curving stairwell to his office. As he ran, he thought again and again, Harry Potter, the Dark Lord said. Not Harry Potter and his cohorts, not Harry Potter and the Mudblood. Just Harry Potter. Harry Potter alone? What had happened in Gringotts?

He threw the door open. "Where is she?" he bellowed.

"Beg pardon?" Phineas Nigellus said, looking mildly interested.

"Have you heard from her? The Dark Lord says that Harry Potter--" Snape stopped suddenly and tore the ring from his finger. The words broke over him like icy water. She was alive. She was alive and on the way to Hogwarts.

"The Granger girl? Yes, she contacted me only a few minutes ago."

Snape balled both hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. "What did she say?" he asked, his voice quiet and terrible.

"She said they were on the way to Hogwarts. And Headmaster Dumbledore," Black inclined his head deferentially to the painting beside him, "told her to get in through the Room of Requirement."

Snape turned and looked at Dumbledore, who was staring back serenely from his portrait.

"Harry Potter has business in the castle, tonight, Severus. It is imperative that you--"

"You doddering old fool! I know what business Harry Potter has in this castle. Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"Must I spell it all out? There is no time for this. Where is the Horcrux? How can I help them?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "I do not know where the Horcrux is, Severus."

"Then you are of no use to me," Snape said. He crossed to the fireplace, waved his wand to open the Floo connection, and grabbed the jar of Floo Powder, throwing a prodigious quantity into the flames. "Minerva!" he yelled.

Behind him, in the office, he could hear Dumbledore's voice shouting, "Harry's mission must remain a secret--and you must not reveal yourself, Severus! You endanger any that you tell!"

There was no answer. He stared into Minerva McGonagall's sitting room, but there was no sign of her. He supposed that she was sleeping. "Minerva!"

She emerged from a door across from the fireplace, her hair loose and disheveled, tying her tartan dressing gown tightly.

"Severus, what on the earth--"

"Minerva, I have reason to believe that Harry Potter and his friends will be returning to the school tonight. The Dark Lord is aware of it and has sent the Carrows to Ravenclaw Tower to watch for him."

"Ravenclaw Tower? But why would Potter go to--"

"I do not know, but the Dark Lord believes it will be the case. I must ask you to go there immediately. Protect Potter from the Carrows if you find him. Try to stop them from using their Marks. It may buy us some time."

"But, Severus, if the Dark Lord thinks that Potter and the others will be on the grounds..."

"Yes, he will come. I have little doubt but that he will come and take Potter by force if he can. But do not alert the other Professors unless it seems these things will come to pass--if it can be forestalled... my cover must not be broken."

"I understand. I will leave now."

She made to turn toward the door, but he said, "Be careful, Minerva. The Carrows will be giddy with their own importance."

"I think I can handle those two gibbering fools, Severus."

He felt a rush of affection for his prim, old colleague and silently wished for her safety. "Very well. I will meet up with you as soon as possible."

He pulled back from the flames and went to his desk. From the top drawer, he pulled the sheaf of parchment with his last will and testament printed on it in his small, spiky script. He flipped through the pages and then pressed them to the desktop. He debated placing a Notice-Me Charm on it and then decided against it. Even if it sat here until a new Headmaster were installed, it would be found eventually. No one would be able to resist seeing the traitor Severus Snape's last words.

He picked up a stack of student records from the desk and began to refile them in the second drawer. Oddly, it seemed important to him that things be in order. Whoever came looking for evidence of his life, of his term as the Headmaster of Hogwarts... he wanted them to know that he had done the job efficiently, that he had not left loose ends.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, but Snape ignored him. He picked up a book and reshelved it.

"I will not ask you how long you have known, but I will ask this: have you remembered your duty? Have you made plans to pass along my message to Harry?"

Snape finally looked up, fixing the portrait with a dead, black stare. "I have endured your insufferable chatter daily through this endless year. I have held my tongue as you belittled my wife, and I have followed your orders though you doomed me to death. I have stood for your betrayal, Dumbledore, for your schemes and your secrets, and now the time has come for me to play my final part. For the love of all that is holy, let me go in peace. I will bear your message to Potter, but I insist you get out of my sight."

"Where would you have me go?" Dumbledore was pale, but his eyes twinkled as if the two of them were sharing a long-agreed upon game.

"Into any portrait fool enough to have you. If you hurry, perhaps you can get good seats for the battle," Snape said bitterly. "Goodbye, Dumbledore."

Snape sat down at his desk. He did not turn to see if Dumbledore had indeed left his portrait, but the room had gone silent. He pressed his hand to the bottle beneath his robes and began, once more, to wait.

***

A man who looked unnervingly like Dumbledore gone to seed rose abruptly from behind the bar as Harry, Ron and Hermione Apparated with pop into the Hog's Head.

"Fools!" he hissed. "Upstairs, now. I'll be lucky if there isn't a pack of Death Eaters on your tail. Go!"

The three of them stumbled up the rickety wooden steps. It was nearly impossible to climb three abreast, and Hermione knew that their feet were exposed, but they ascended the stairs as quickly as they were able.

"Who was that?" Harry whispered. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. Hermione pulled the cloak from over their heads and stuffed it into her bag.

"Aberforth, of course," she said.

"Who's Aberforth?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore's brother," Harry answered.

"So that's why there's a portrait of--"

Hermione pointed at a painting that hung above a small fireplace in the center of the back wall. A young girl looked out at them calmly, a funny half-smile upon her lips. It was hard to imagine that Dumbledore himself must once have been so young, that he could have had a sister with shy eyes exactly the same color as her brothers'.

"Hello," Hermione said politely, but the girl in the portrait did not respond.

"Should we just go?" Ron asked.

"No, Ron. That would be even ruder than the fact that we just endangered him by popping into the middle of his bar. And besides, we don't know how the portrait works. Dumbledore said the way was through it... but I've never heard of wizards being able to enter portraits."

Harry continued to stare, slightly slack-jawed, at Ariana Dumbledore.

Finally, they heard the creaking of the wooden staircase. The three of them stepped closer together, and Hermione slowly drew her wand from her pocket.

"You risk my life by barreling into this bar, Miss Granger, and now you're going to hex me?" Aberforth said as he hobbled into the room, one of his grizzled eyebrows raised.

Hermione dropped her wand hand apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir. I just wasn't sure it was you. How did you know my name?"

Aberforth shuffled to a chair by the hearth and sat down.

"How do I know your name?" he huffed. "Your picture's up all over this town, isn't it? Undesirable Number Two. All three of you. Rumour has it you escaped Malfoy Manor."

Harry looked stricken. "Hermione, Ron... I'm sorry. I never meant--"

"Don't be an idiot," Ron said. "We always knew this would happen. Besides, now I've finally done something my brothers haven't."

Hermione looked fondly at Ron, but she turned when Aberforth began to speak.

"You'll have to spend the night," he said tiredly. "I can feed you, and you can stay here until daybreak, when the curfew lifts. I don't know why the hell you've come, but you need to get as far away from here as possible. You're damned lucky no one saw you."

"We can't do that," Harry said.

"Beg pardon?"

"We've got to go to Hogwarts. There's something there we have to find. There isn't much time."

"The only thing you're going to find at Hogwarts, Mr Potter, is a sorry end. Snape's there, in case you've forgotten. He killed my fool of a brother. I'm sure he'd be only too happy to do you as well."

"Mr Dumbledore... I'm terribly sorry about your brother. But before he died, he left me a job. Something I've got to do, and we need to get--"

Aberforth crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. "Did he, now? Nice job, I hope? Pleasant? Easy? Sort of thing you'd expect an unqualified wizard kid and his friends to be able to do without overstretching themselves?"

"You don't understand," said Harry.

"Oh, don't I?" said Aberforth quietly. "You don't think I understood my own brother?"

"Your brother..." Harry seemed to want to yell, but thought better of it. Calmly he went on, "He knew how to destroy the Dark Lord. He told me--he said it had to be me; he said I had to--"

"Really? How fascinating. And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?"

Harry paused for a long time. "I knew the danger," he said, but his eyes looked wary. Hermione could hardly breathe. This was not the time for Harry's confidence in Dumbledore to fail. But she looked at Aberforth with a kind of gratitude, all the same. Here was someone who knew what she did, who knew how ruthlessly Dumbledore had used them, how he had handpicked them and groomed them for their tasks. She looked at Harry. Had she been chosen for him? Chosen to be Undesirable Number Two, perhaps for her wandwork and her studious nature? Did it matter? Would she love him less if she had?

"I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother's knee. Secrets and lies, that's how we grew up, and Albus... he was a natural."

"It doesn't matter," Ron said, and both Harry and Aberforth turned to him, clearly startled.

"What?" Harry said.

"Whether he tricked us. Whether we knew everything or not. Did he make me sit next to you in that compartment on the train, that first day? Did he have to tell me that it doesn't matter that Hermione is Muggle-born? You can't trick people into loving each other, into knowing what's right. We want to fight. Now, we need a way into Hogwarts, and Dumbledore says it's through that portrait there. Are you going to help us or not?"

Hermione looked at Ron, whose face had turned an alarming purplish color. His fists were balled up, and he looked mortified. She did not think she had ever loved him so fiercely.

"It's madness you're talking, madness to fight him. You'll kill yourselves. What are the lot of you? Seventeen? You think because you've managed to hide this long that you'll have a chance against him? My brother filled your heads with nonsense. The war is over. We've lost."

"No, it isn't." Harry said. "Your brother knew how to finish You-Know-Who, and he passed the knowledge on to me. I'm going to keep going until I succeed--or I die. Don't think I don't know how this might end. I've known it for years. We need to get into Hogwarts. If you won't help us, we'll wait until morning and find our own way in."

Aberforth gave a gusty sigh. "You think you know what death is, at seventeen? What love is, for that matter? You say my brother knew how to defeat You-Know-Who. Why didn't he do it, then? Why'd he leave it to a bunch of kids? Got himself killed, that's what he did. Same as you will." He rose and walked to the chimneypiece. "God forgive me for this. Ariana, you know what to do."

The girl in the portrait turned away from them, still wearing her enigmatic smile, and strode away, not out of her frame, but somehow deeper inside it, as if she were walking down a long corridor behind her.

"What--" Ron began, but his question was drowned out by Hermione's excited shriek and Harry's exclamation. "Neville!"

Suddenly the portrait swung forward on the wall like a little door, and the entrance to a real tunnel was revealed. Before it, framed in the blackness, crouched Neville Longbottom, his hands outstretched, his hair shaggy, and his face cut and bruised.

"We've waited so long," he said, and his voice bore tinges of great excitement and sadness, both. "Come on, then. Come on, where we can see you."

Hermione held up her hands, and Neville took them. Ron boosted her up over the fireplace, and she crawled into the tunnel. Then, Ron and Harry hoisted themselves up. Hermione watched as Harry turned back and stuck a hand out of the portrait hole. "Thank you," he said.

"Don't thank me. I've sent you to your doom is what I've done. No better than my brother, in the end, I suppose. Take care, the lot of you. If you survive, it'll be one less thing on my head."

"I'll do my best," Harry said and shook Aberforth's hand.

Neville had begun climbing up a set of ancient looking stone steps. Hermione followed. "Neville, what's happened to you? What the hell is going on at Hogwarts?"

Neville looked back at her and then kept climbing. "It started out all right," he said, and there was a world-weariness to his tone that Hermione did not recognize. "I mean, it was bad, don't get me wrong. Lots of people didn't come back at all--Dean, you three, Justin Finch-Fletchley... most of the Muggle-borns."

They kept climbing as Neville spoke. "But things started out pretty normal. It was weird without you, of course, and a lot of times, we heard rumours about what was going on outside, but you know... there were classes, and meals, Quidditch games, even. The normal stuff. The Carrows were teaching Defense and Muggle Studies, which we all knew was a joke... but it was okay. Punishments were maybe even easier than they used to be. It all went through Snape, see? Anything we were caught doing--they couldn't punish us. Not the Carrows, not even the regular teachers. Snape took care of all that. When Ginny and I tried to take the sword of Gryffindor--I thought we'd be dead for sure, but Snape sent us to work with Hagrid. People started saying he'd gone soft or that maybe, you know, that he was sorry for what he did. I don't know. But then, after Christmas, he wasn't around very much. I guess the Carrows got tired of waiting for punishments that never came, and they... well. They started doing things their own way."

"Why didn't you go to Snape?" Hermione said. "If he was better, if he was supposed to be--"

"Go to Snape? And do what? Tell him his Death Eater friends were being too hard on us? Come on. And like I said, he wasn't around. Amycus Carrow... he started teaching the Cruciatus. You know, the curse Bellatrix used on my parents? Started using it on us for punishment, and some of the Slytherins... well, let's just say house rivalries have reached a new height."

"Neville..." Harry said. It was clear from his tone that he could not bear to hear it, that he was asking Neville to stop. But Neville, now that he was talking, seemed intent on telling them exactly what had been going on in their absence. Hermione wondered if he thought they had simply been in hiding.

"We didn't give up. Right up until we moved into the Room of Requirement, we were still fighting. Little things, I guess, like we'd sneak out at night and put graffiti on the walls: Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting, stuff like that. It drove them crazy."

"But if you were being punished--if they were hurting you, then why--"

"Because we had to. Don't you understand that? It was all that was left. You were gone, and people needed hope. After Christmas, dozens of people stayed home. Luna was captured, and we lost Ginny at Easter--they were winning. We had to show that we weren't giving up."

"Neville--we weren't... we weren't running, if that's what you thought."

He sighed. "I know that. I've always known it. If I didn't, maybe I would have given up, too. Just stayed home, or gone into hiding myself. But things are bad, here, okay. Things... just don't be surprised." He walked up to a little door and pushed it open.

"Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?" he called as he pushed Hermione through the portrait hole. There was a little more vigor in his voice than before. "They came back! I told you they'd come back."

Hermione was seized by so many hands that she felt almost afraid, though the touches were friendly, joyful even. Parvati pulled her into a crushing hug, and when they parted, there were tears in both girls' eyes.

Hermione turned and saw Lavender sobbing into Ron's shoulder. His eyes were closed, and he rubbed her back in small, tight circles. Harry and Seamus were pounding each others' arms.

Finally, she had a chance to look around her. Through her tears, she saw that the Room looked as she had never seen it. Hammocks hung from the ceiling, and the banners of all four houses decorated the walls. There were squashy looking armchairs and wireless in the corner. It was like a child's vision of Hogwarts, a child who had been anticipating his letter since he had been old enough to know what it would mean.

"What is this place?" Hermione breathed.

"It's the Room of Requirement, of course," Neville said. "It's our hideout. We had to have someplace to go. Someplace where they couldn't get in, so we made our own Hogwarts."

Neville suddenly clapped his hands. It was clear to Hermione by the way everyone snapped to attention that this was all Neville's doing, that he was in charge here. He had spearheaded the fight and the retreat while they had been gone.

"So, what's the plan, Harry?"

"The plan?"

"Yeah, the plan. If you're back, it means we're fighting, right? We're fighting back. And that's good--we've had our chance to rest and heal, and we're ready. Just tell us what you need."

"Look, Neville, I think you've misunderstood. We--there's something we need at Hogwarts, something we need to do... we didn't come back to stay."

"I don't understand. Our contacts outside said... we heard you had broken out of Gringotts, we heard..."

Harry nodded.

"But you're not here to fight?"

"No, listen. Please, try to understand. Before we can fight, there are certain things we have to do--it won't make any difference to fight if we don't." Harry's eyes were pleading.

"So tell us what you're here to do. We'll help you."

"I can't," Harry said miserably.

Hermione thought of Aberforth's words, raised on secrets and lies... She thought of Professor McGonagall, of Luna, of Mr Ollivander. She thought of Dobby. There was death in telling, yes, but there was power, too. Power in friendships that could not be broken, power in love, in loyalty, in rightness. She thought of Ron with his fists balled up, speaking words the likes of which she had never heard him use. She thought of the way he and Harry had looked when they returned to the tent after destroying the locket, the energy that had surged between them, and how it had felt when she had tugged him back through the tent flap.

"He already knows we know," she whispered to Harry. "Tell them."

Harry turned to her, disbelieving. "Hermione... tell them?"

"You don't have to say what it means. Just say what we're looking for."

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "Okay." But just then the portrait burst open once more, and Fred, George and Ginny Weasley spilled into the room.

It was nothing like what had happened before. No one rushed over with glad cries, no one beat on anyone else's back. Hermione watched as Harry saw her, as his face seemed to open and close and open again, as he fought against what was coming. Ginny seemed frozen at the entry. She was pale, but her cheeks burned fiery pink. She took a step forward.

Harry blinked slowly, as if he thought she would disappear. Then, he, too, stepped forward, and Hermione had to look away as Harry swept her into his arms and kissed her. The pain, both the pain that had just ended and the pain that was just beginning between them, seemed to burn her eyes.

When they broke apart, Hermione heard Ginny say, "What's the plan?"

"Okay," Harry said. He had Ginny's hand in a death grip, and he did not let go as he addressed the room. "There's something we need to find. Something--something that'll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It's here at Hogwarts, but we don't know where. It might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone ever come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?"

Luna and Dean were climbing through portrait hole, and the sight of Luna seemed to confirm her resolve to tell the others.

"Something of Ravenclaw's?" Luna said, staring serenely around the room as if she'd been there all along. "Well, there's her lost diadem."

"What's that?"

"It's like a little crown," Luna said. "She's wearing it in her statue in our common room. I can show you, if you like."

Harry looked searchingly at Ron and Hermione. Ron shrugged.

"There's only room for two under the Cloak, Harry," Hermione said. "You'll need Luna to get into Ravenclaw Tower. We'll stay here and get the others organized... you know, in case."

Harry looked undecided for a moment; he glanced down at his hand where it clutched Ginny's. "Go," Ginny said quietly. "I'll still be here when you get back."

But as she watched them disappear under the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione wanted to call them back. Why was she sending them away from her when they should be sticking together? "Come right back," she whispered to no one.

***

Snape was Disillusioned, standing outside the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. He watched as Luna Lovegood's hand appeared from nowhere and knocked on the door. He heard the door's question and Luna's answer and saw a sliver of the Ravenclaw common room as they passed invisibly through the doorway.

He watched as Minerva removed her own Disillusionment Charm, revealing the same wild hair and tartan dressing gown that she had worn when he asked her to watch Ravenclaw Tower. He smirked slightly. How long had they both stood here, each unaware of the other? Minerva crept forward and pressed her ear to the door. Suddenly the Mark burned with ferocious intensity, and he could not contain the hiss that escaped his lips. Minerva whirled around, wand raised, and he whispered, "She has summoned him. Hide yourself. Go in with the other."

Minerva ducked behind a nearby suit of armour and replaced the Disillusionment Charm. Snape stood, nearly blinded by the pain, and he felt the Dark Lord's thundering response surging through his blood. I am coming.

Amycus Carrow ran up the hallway and began to beat mercilessly on the door. "Alecto? Alecto? Are you there? Have you got him? Open the door!"

It was all happening now, all unfolding before him, as he watched in silence. Potter had come, and the idiot Alecto Carrow had captured him. Once again, Snape thought that Potter should be thanking Merlin that Hermione had accompanied him on this journey. Snape longed to Stun Amycus and burst into the room, but he remained motionless. If the Dark Lord were to question anyone here... everything would have to seem in order. Minerva became visible again, this time from further up the hall, and she approached angrily.

Together she and Amycus entered the room, and Snape leaned back against the wall. He was strung high and tight with nerves; each voice, each footstep had seemed as loud as thunder, and yet he was powerless to do anything but wait. Waiting, waiting... endless waiting for things he could not stop or control. It was maddening.

He heard a bang, raised voices, and then nothing. Nothing. What was happening? Snape nearly trembled with the desire to act, to do one memorable or heroic thing. He wanted to kill the Carrows, find the Horcrux, anything... anything to temper the helpless rage that rose inside of him.

When McGonagall emerged and sent her Patronuses galloping down the hallways, he could wait no longer, and he followed her as she ran down the hall. Were Potter and the Lovegood girl with her? Had they been injured in the struggle in the Tower? As soon as they reached the landing, he paused and removed the charm, stepping toward her loudly enough to cause Minerva to whirl on him once more.

"Snape," she growled, her face screwed into a credible impression of hatred. A bit of hope rose in him.

"Where are the Carrows?" he asked quietly.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect," she said, her voice icy.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder."

"As if Alecto Carrow could apprehend her own left foot," she retorted.

Snape glanced at the space next to her. He could not see them, but they must have escaped safely. His heart rate slowed by a notch. He looked into Minerva's unyielding eyes.

"Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist--"

With a sweep of her wand, she seemed to seize the fire from a nearby torch and Transfigure it into a flaming Griffin. But as the huge, beaked head lunged toward him, he swished his wand in return, and the Griffin became a rearing serpent, its hood spread wide. Yes, he thought to himself, the old house rivalry serves again. He was preparing his next counter-spell, a fine little charm that would turn her lasso of ruby colored flames into a shower of Slytherin green bees... And was it possible that he was enjoying this?

But the other professors were running up the corridor. "Minerva!" Flitwick shouted.

Snape leaped backward, looking over her shoulder, and a tongue of flame licked the hem of his robes. Minerva snatched it back with a twitch of her wand, and he put out the fire with his hands. Her face was white and wild looking.

"GO, Snape!" she screamed. "Leave this castle! Get far away from this place!"

Snape needed no further warning. He turned on his heel, throwing a Shield Charm behind him, and took off for the classrooms at the end of the hallway. The shield was quickly disabled; he could hear pounding feet behind him, and the sound of Minerva's voice yelling, "Let him run, then! We'll be well rid of the coward!"

He reached the first classroom, threw the door shut behind him and warded it. He dashed to the window, shoved it upward, and jumped.

The wind caught his robes as he fell, and he felt them billow out around him like heavy wings before his body seemed to merge with the wind. He rose steadily, circling Ravenclaw Tower and heading west. Windows were beginning to flood with light all over the castle. The teachers were waking the students.

He kept close to the school, drinking in the heavy stone of the archways, of the walls, and he thought it was a wonder that he could stay in the air, he felt so saturated, so weighted with memory. Here was the Charms classroom where he had learned to make a feather fly as he did now, so very long ago. Here, the Arthimancy corridor, where he had once set off a string of dung bombs and been given three weeks detention scrubbing the dungeon floors. He flew on, peering into windows until he came to the battlements of the Astronomy tower where Dumbledore had fallen, ended by Snape's own spell.

Then he swung out toward the lake, glimpsing the bench where Hermione had sat in the snow, the tree where he had once been tormented, past the Quidditch pitch and greenhouses, past the Whomping Willow. As he flew he stared and stared, as if he could never get enough seeing, enough remembering of this place that had been his home and would never be his home again. As he glided over Hagrid's hut, he descended, landing on his feet and running for the Forbidden Forest, where he could already see hooded figures congregating. The Death Eaters were here already. The battle would begin in moments.

***

Hermione waited anxiously in the corridor, not caring anymore who might see her. There had been tremendous movement in the castle; she had heard the pounding of hundreds of feet on the staircases, mingled shouts and tears, orders given in familiar voices. Something was happening, but Harry was not back yet. Ginny had come out into the hallway with her. They paced silently without looking at each other.

When Harry came dashing up the corridor with Luna on his heels and the Invisibility Cloak balled up in his arms, it was hard to let Ginny go to him first. She had the fleeting thought that it would always be that way, that Ginny would never understand that her connection to Harry ran deeper than blood now, but her mind quickly offered, Unless he dies, and then you will never have to explain.

"Open the door wide," Harry yelled. "Get everyone out of the way. We're coming through!"

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Evacuating--sending the students out through the Hog's Head," he said breathlessly. "The Slytherins are on the way--tell everyone no dueling! We just want to get the underage out safely!"

Hermione leaned her back against the door, holding it open, and Ginny ran into the room and began shouting orders. After a few moments, she could see Professor Slughorn leading his students down the hallway. It had been almost a year since she'd last seen him, and she stared at him with eyes that had longed for the familiar for too long. Even his walrus-like mustache felt comforting. "On the way back, of course, my dear," he said. "Just have to help these students to Apparate--none of them old enough to have a license, you know."

She found she did not care whether it was the truth or not. Students filed past her, trooping through the room and into the portrait hole. Millicent Bulstrode, Tracy Davis, Malcolm Baddock. Faces she had known for years. No one met her eyes.

Behind the Slytherins came the Ravenclaws, and with each fresh wave of students, Hermione was struck anew with how young they all looked. Had she ever been so young? Was she now? She felt she must memorize each face, remember each person with whom she had ever shared a table at the library, beside whom she had sat at a Quidditch game or a meal. Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, Stewart Ackerley. The procession went on and on. Flitwick passed her and gave a little squeak of recognition. She smiled as he entered the room, ordering his students into the tunnel.

But when Professor McGonagall approached, Hermione could hold back tears no longer. Her face crumpled, and she shook as she stood against the heavy door of the Room.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said sternly as she stopped at the door to guide the Gryffindors through. "Get a hold of yourself." But when Hermione looked into her face, she could see that the old woman was no less affected, and she slipped her hand into her professor's and squeezed.

"Did he..." she said under her breath. "Did he get out?"

"He did," McGonagall said tartly, not quite looking at her and giving a loud sniff. "And now if you'll excuse me, I have to attend to my students."

Hermione could not see most of the Hufflepuffs as they shuffled through the room, as she was half blind with tears and relief.

"Okay!" Harry's voice shouted. "Those who are fighting need to return to the Great Hall with the professors!"

Suddenly, it seemed the tide had reversed and people flooded out of the room, filling the hallways, pushing and whooping. Hermione could see Fred and George's ginger heads above the crowd as they leaped above the others; Remus Lupin; Kingsley Shacklebolt; Horace Slughorn, who had indeed returned; Fleur and Bill; Michael Corner; Cho Chang; Neville, his face twisted with determination... it stabbed her heart to see them all, all these people who had not given up, all these people prepared to fight, to die for this. Blaise Zabini pushed past, Dean and Luna, even Percy Weasley, and she was torn by the urge to rush after them, to take her place among those determined to live, and the need to stay and complete the task that lay before them.

Harry, Ron and Ginny emerged last from the Room.

"I know where it is," Harry said quietly. "As soon as I saw the statue, I remembered. I've seen it before. Ginny, you've got to go downstairs now."

"No! I'm staying with you."

Harry shook his head sadly. "Ginny, we've been through this. What I'm doing--I have to do it alone. Go downstairs and fight with your family."

"You are my family, you stupid prat!" Ginny said, her eyes blazing.

Harry reached up and seized her face in his hands. Ron turned pink, and Hermione studiously looked at her shoes.

"I know that. Ginny, I love you, and you're my family, and that's why you have to get away from here. I can't do this if it puts you in danger, and I have to do it. Do you understand? I have to."

There was silence for a moment and then Ginny looked at him with a twisted little smile on her lips. "Go on, then," she said. "You get it done. Get it done and then you come right back for me. Do you understand me, Harry Potter? You come right back for me."

Harry leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm coming back. I swear to you."

Ginny said nothing else but took off down the hallway, her hair flying in long red ropes behind her.

Ron looked curiously at Harry, and Hermione knew that he wondered if it had been a good idea to promise something that none of them felt sure of. She remembered the day after Ron had returned to the tent, when Harry had explained what had happened with the Horcrux... I'm going to get back to her, Hermione. I'm going to. She knew why he had promised. She would have done the same. It was as much a promise to himself as a promise to Ginny. A commitment to keep going, to keep being, to keep fighting. No matter what.

"The Horcrux is in the Room of Hidden Things. It's on a statue wearing a wig. I put it there when I hid Snape's potions book," Harry said.

Hermione's heart stuttered. But she had seen that, too! She knew exactly where it was.

"Do you have the sword?"

Hermione pulled it from her bag and handed it to Harry. The three of them walked into the hallway and shut the door on the little refuge that Neville had made for their army.

"I need to go where everything is hidden," Harry said three times as he paced before the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy.

A door appeared in the expanse of stone, and Hermione took the handle and pulled it open.