A Most Ingenious Paradox

"A Most Ingenious Paradox"

[A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher]

Chapter Eight - "The Thin Red Line"

The next few hours were filled with the nervous buzz of anticipation as each member of the gang alternately wished for the power to slow the clocks, and yet seethed with impatience for the fateful evening to be over and done with. This would be the most serious test of their lives, and whether they would all come through it, or if one or more of them would be found wanting, was very far from certain.

Hermione spent the rest of the working day at her chambers re-routing urgent work, then she returned home, as she pronounced loftily to Ron, "to put her affairs in order" before 8 o'clock: the hour Harry had requested they all assemble in the West Room.

"Honestly, Hermione, what's that supposed to mean?" Ron was aghast. "You sound as though you're writing a Will or something."

"You can never be too careful, Ron. As an Auror, you ought to know that."

"How many times do I have to say it - I'm not an Auror!"

"Yeah, yeah. Now say it again, this time with conviction!"

Lee had not bothered going into the Ministry or even back to the flat.

"My in-tray will be overflowing and they'll be queuing outside my office door," he told George placidly. "Best not to bother moving really."

Lee closeted himself in Hermione's study with his laptop, until she threw him out on her return later that afternoon. He then stalked into the kitchen to join Ron, who was occupying his time usefully by drinking endless cups of coffee, chewing his nails and worrying. Ginny had provided lunch for the gang, made a few phone calls and commandeered the piano in the library to put in some practice. Harry was nowhere to be seen. The twins showed a remarkable grasp of the priorities and between them cooked a large cauldron of soup, importing half the local baker's shop to accompany it. Ron gaped in amazement.

"George, it's high summer!" he protested. Both his brothers glared at him darkly,

"It may be high summer at the moment," Fred replied, grimly, "but we're going to be up all night, mark my words, and we'll need it come 3.00am when you-know-who comes calling."

"What on earth is going on here?" Harry appeared suddenly in the doorway, staring at the lake of soup. He burst out laughing. "That's enough for an army!" George looked rather annoyed.

"Well, an army marches on its stomach, doesn't it?" George responded, testily. "Anyway, Harry, if we're going to ensure you-know-who doesn't make off with Fred tonight, we're going to need some sustenance. Apart from anything else, it might keep us awake!"

"Well, yes - I can see your point," Harry began, scratching his head, "except that I don't think we're going to be able to get out into the kitchen much. If at all, actually."

All heads turned towards him.

"Drink that, Harry." Ron said, pushing a cup of coffee into his hand, "and you might like to reassess your priorities. I for one am never going to stay awake later than 1.00am without coffee."

"I've been looking into the various ways we can protect ourselves against attack," Harry told them, automatically taking a gulp of the strong, aromatic brew. "I've been researching into it all morning. I managed to get through to Professor Radcliffe in Florence, and I've been talking to various dark arts experts I've worked with before. We're all agreed that the surest form of protection is a Wall of Force."

"But surely that leaves us vulnerable from above and beneath," Ron protested with a frown. "I can't see Voldemort falling for that one!"

"I know," replied Harry, "but a Wall of Force can be modified into a vaguely three-dimensional shape. With the right spells, naturally."

"Of course!" exclaimed Hermione, her frown lifting. "I remember Alastor Moody giving a court room a detailed description of one. I called him as an expert witness for the Defence once, about a year ago."

"Did you win?" Harry asked, with interest. Hermione nodded vigorously.

"Too right, we did! He had the whole courtroom on the edge of their seats. I'd use him again anytime." Hermione paused, and the frown returned.

"But Harry," she protested, "the - Glass Bubble, I believe he called it. It's not perfect by any means, and it's not proof against a whole host of hexes."

"Yes, Hermione, I realise that." Harry nodded.

"Hey, get real you two!" Lee entered into the conversation. "I work with machines most of the time, and my magic only gets a workout once or twice a week. Have a heart and explain, will you?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry and giggled.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Ginny glared at them from the kitchen door, coming quickly to join them. "Just because you two know what you're talking about, doesn't mean the rest of us do! I'm with Lee on this."

Harry took her hand in his and patted it gently.

"The Glass Bubble is a variation on the Wall of Force which moulds the protection into a bubble-shape," Harry explained. "This means that any one enclosed within the bubble will be safe from a number of external attacks, notably the three Unforgiveable Curses." Ginny's eyes widened.

"But I thought the Avada curse was unblockable!" Ginny exclaimed. Harry and Fred exchanged glances.

"Well, we thought so too." Harry began at length. "It's a long story involving Fred, George, myself, and a multiple manifestation of griffins. I'll tell you about it sometime - not now, please! - but the upshot is that although the Avada curse can't be blocked, it can be avoided."

"Well, we know that," Ginny protested, impatiently. "All you have to do is move out of the way, same as any other curse."

Harry nodded as though she had said something extremely sensible.

"That's right, and that's the principle involved in the Glass Bubble," Harry went on. "Don't ask me exactly how it works, I didn't design it, but it incorporates a General Evasion charm. It literally avoids being hit by the more powerful and dangerous curses."

"Now that sounds more like it!" Lee jumped out of his chair. "With one of those around the house, we could sleep soundly until the middle of next week, and there'd be nothing You-Know-Who could do about it!"

Harry looked at Lee and shook his head slowly. Hermione's face took on a serious expression. She began to speak.

"It isn't that simple, I'm afraid, Lee," she explained. "It's not so much a bubble as a net made out of fine mesh. Powerful, dangerous curses are deflected, but smaller, less harmful ones can get through. Also, anti-hexes or confusion charms, that sort of thing, well, they can penetrate the barrier as well." There was a small pause as the gang absorbed this information.

"So," continued Lee, slowly, "although You-Know-Who can't kill or hurt us badly while we're in the bubble, he can torment us with any number of small hexes - furnunculus, morbum incido, dolorus, confusium perplexa - you name it. That's not good, Harry."

The other man shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Lee, it's really the best I can do. And that's not all, I'm afraid." Harry paused to rake a hand through his untidy dark hair before continuing.

"When you talk about throwing a Glass Bubble around the whole house, well, it's simply not possible, not even for me," he admitted. "The Glass Bubble is only effective in small spaces, the size of a normal room, no larger."

"So the upshot is that in order to keep me safe, we are going to have to spend the entire night all together in one room, yes?" It was Fred speaking. Harry nodded.

"That's about the size of it, yes."

~ooOoo~

By 8.00pm they had all assembled in the West Room as Harry had requested.

"Now," he began. "Firstly, I think this is the best place for us to spend the night. It's large and has good visibility into the garden. If anything should approach us from there, we'll have plenty of warning. It's also self-contained, having only one door into the house, and it's far enough from the road to avoid any disturbance to the neighbourhood, should there be any."

There was a murmur in reply, largely on the subject of there being only two sofas. Harry shook his head.

"The very first thing we must do is to move all the furniture out into the hall."

"Why?"

"How on earth will we fit it all in?"

"Do you mean we're going to have to sit on the floor all night?"

Harry held up a hand against the flood of protests.

"Please, I'm serious. We can't run the risk of any remnants of magic clinging to anything in this room, not to mention the fact that, as we've discussed at length, minor hexes can get through. Imagine being stuck in a room where every item of furniture was behaving like a Quidditch bludger! It could happen. Everything that can be removed, sofas, chairs, bookcases - you name it, we've got to get rid of it. Even the pictures on the walls are a potential hazard!"

The next hour was spent in preparing the room as Harry instructed. He was absolutely tireless: nothing was left, not even the carpet.

"Now," he continued, "I want everyone to bring down enough bedding to be comfortable. Mats and inflatable mattresses are okay, together with your usual bedclothes and pillows, and a pile of extra blankets. Nothing magical, whatever else you bring, and nothing rigid, heavy or dangerous. We must keep as little in this room as possible."

The others dutifully went upstairs. Hermione panicked slightly over whether they could find enough blankets and quilts for three extra people, but by raiding all the bedrooms they managed to garner sufficient for the purpose. Soon the resulting pile was spread carefully around the room so that everyone had sufficient space to stretch out.

While the others were occupied in this task, Harry moved around the room, examining the windows and doors, muttering over the frames, noting the absence of a fireplace. He also lit the central heating boiler, making certain that the two radiators in the West Room were fully operational.

"Okay," Harry said, as the others completed their preparations. "Now I think we'd all better go and eat some of that vast quantity of soup the twins have cooked for us; we really need a good meal before we go into this. After that, I think it may be as well if we all change into some less formal clothes: tracksuits, jogging pants, teeshirts, pyjamas, you know the type of thing. Things we can sleep in if necessary, although I doubt we'll be able to. And we'd better make sure we'll be warm enough. I've checked that the central heating is working, but one blast of the Frigesco charm and we'll be extremely uncomfortable whether it's working or not. Ditto for Excandesco, so make sure you put on layers of clothes that you can take off if you get too hot!"

Harry and Fred practically emptied their wardrobes trying to find sweats for Lee, George and Ron. Harry, having eaten lightly and finished first, then filled plastic drinks bottles with water and carried them into the West Room. He also packed a wicker basket with all the fruit he could find in the house. Ginny set to in the kitchen and made enough sandwiches to feed a family of four for a year. The rest of the gang stood around rather aimlessly, waiting for the next move. Ron simply stared at Hermione who was looking ravishing in a scarlet tracksuit with her long brown hair down. She smiled gently at him then moved over to where Harry was still pacing the room.

"Want some help with that?" Hermione enquired, softly. Harry looked up at her and she felt her heart twist at the lines of strain around his mouth, the worry etched plainly in his eyes. He sighed and nodded.

"Thanks, Hermione: standard Repel All Boarders wards, extended to cover the whole of each window and door frame, also any cracks in the walls."

Hermione nodded then looked back towards the others.

"Hey, Ron, come and help with this, please," she ordered. With an air of jumping to attention, Ron sprang into action and had soon taken over from Harry, assisting Hermione to seal the cracks in the door and walls with magical protection. Harry paused in thought for a while then walked over to Fred.

"How much do you remember about the Manhattan Island situation?" he asked, obliquely. Fred looked puzzled for a moment then understanding spread over his face.

"You, me and an army of hags?" Fred replied. "Plenty, I can assure you. They frequently haunt my dreams." He smiled grimly. "I take it you want me to help you cast the Glass Bubble in tandem? Like we did then?" Harry nodded firmly.

"Frankly, what you produced there was the most sure-fire defence I've seen in a long time," Harry remarked. Fred bowed his head in acceptance of the compliment.

"More of the same, then?"

"Too right! Let's get to it."

For a while, there was no sound save for mutterings from Ron and Hermione as they continued to place wards around the room, punctuated by muted discussion between Harry and Fred. The wards were up and running while their creators sat patiently on their piles of bedding before preparations for the Glass Bubble were complete.

Finally, Harry and Fred stood facing each other in the centre of the room, almost as though preparing for a wizard duel. They drew their wands together. Working in mirror image, each described a slow, graceful arc, leaving faint silver lines hanging motionless in the air. Back they both swung, in perfect unison, leaving further silvery threads, then more and more as they worked, establishing a rhythm for their magic.

The sight of them was almost hypnotic; Hermione's eyes started to glaze over. She shook her head impatiently. This was a charm she had never worked, although she had heard a great deal about it, and she wanted to remember as much as possible for further study. On and on the two wizards strove in a complex ballet, drawing their wands gracefully through the air, adding more and more lines to the pattern. A shape was gradually emerging, a mesh sphere totally enclosing its creators.

The pattern appeared to be complete. Precisely in time, Fred and Harry lowered their wands to rest for a moment. Their eyes met. With studied synchronisation, they raised their wands again. Once word rang out from two throats:

"Extendor!"

and the mesh seemed to catch fire. Brilliantly, it flamed with a silver-grey light then rapidly expanded until it touched the boundaries of the room. There it stayed, the legendary Glass Bubble, glimmering and revolving before fading into invisibility.

"That was beautiful!" Ginny sighed in regret at the disappearance of the exquisite structure.

"And extremely strong," Hermione was impressed. "Well done, you two. That was a stunning piece of work!"

"We don't have to worry about breaking through the protection as long as we stay in the room," explained Harry, nodding his head in recognition of the accolade. "The bubble's flexible enough to accommodate any movement, but once we open the door, or even a window, we shatter it and thereby lose our only defence."

Wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, Harry turned to Fred. Crouched low on the floor, the other wizard flexed tense shoulders, grimacing at the ache. He looked up at Harry and grasped the hand proffered to help him stand. Instead of releasing Fred once he was on his feet, Harry gripped the hand he held tighter and spoke in a voice meant only for Fred's ears.

"Thank you," he said, simply but with a warm smile. "Your reputation both inside and out of the Ministry of Magic is fully justified!"

"I won't say quite any time, but - you're welcome," Fred replied, returning the smile somewhat wearily. Releasing Fred's hand, Harry turned to the others.

"Can I just remind you that we're really not sure what we're up against here?" he began. "Technically we know we can survive merely by sitting tight, but I doubt it'll be that simple. Please try not to use magic if you can possibly help it: the chances of Voldemort hexing us so that any spell will backfire are very strong. Also anything more powerful than a minor hex will shatter the bubble from the inside."

"Harry, have you any idea what we can expect by way of attacks tonight?" Hermione was calm but obviously perturbed by the idea of being in the dark.

"Not really," he replied, flatly. "But I can make some guesses which might hold water."

"Go on then," said George, when Harry paused for thought. Harry took off his spectacles and began to polish them absent-mindedly on his jogging top.

"We've already discussed the small hexes which can get through - feeling cold, hot, sick, in pain, thirsty, hungry." he said, putting his glasses back on. "We have a remedy of sorts for some of them - the water, the fruit, Ginny's sandwiches. The others we'll just have to sit out. We may be under attack in other, more subtle ways. Any one of us may suddenly feel irrationally angry, fed up, irritable, sad, frightened - many other emotional responses. It's up to the rest of us to try to spot these attacks and defuse them."

"What do we do?" Lee asked with a somewhat bewildered look.

"Talk to each other," Harry replied. "Look out for unusual signals, tension, anything odd or out of character and see if you can't head it off at the pass. Logical argument and reasoning tends to shift anyone who is being unduly influenced back on to the right track, but be prepared to use force if necessary. No one must leave the room, that is imperative."

Lee nodded seriously, then sat down on his bedding, deep in thought.

"I guess we ought to try to get some sleep," Harry continued. "I know that's probably the last thing any of us wants to do at the moment, but I don't suppose we'll get much chance later."

Harry stretched himself out full length, his hands behind his head. Nodding, Fred followed suit. Slowly, the others settled themselves into their own piles of bedding. Ron, who had taken care to place himself near to Hermione, was the last to turn in, standing with his hands on his hips, frowning out of the West Room windows.

"Anything wrong?" asked Hermione, turning on to her back. He shook his head still with his back to her then turned to scramble into his makeshift bed. He lay on his side against the pillows, leaning on one elbow to regard her with sombre eyes.

"I'm just, well..." he broke off with a humourless laugh. "I was going to say I'm a bit worried, but it's just too weird. I'm a bit worried like the sky is a bit above the grass at present." Hermione smiled.

"It's all come on us rather suddenly, hasn't it?" she replied. "You know: one day Lee and I are discussing the correlations between the crime patterns in Britain, the next we're head to head with an invasion of the Dark Side, heralded by You-Know-Who's return." Ron nodded.

"Seems that way," he agreed. "But all your painstaking work paid off in the end then, didn't it? I mean, it's the final proof that he's trying to return, isn't it? Organising the criminal element, all those thefts and infiltrations, the disappearances. And the strategies for keeping the public eye off his activities! You've got to hand it to him, it's a masterly piece of work."

"Yes," Hermione pressed her lips together primly. "I suppose You-Know-Who does have quite a flair for murder and mayhem. Such a pity it couldn't have been re-directed when he was young. It would have saved us such a lot of trouble."

Ron widened his eyes in surprise at her scalding sarcasm then sighed as he caught a glint of tears before she turned her head away impatiently. He reached across between them and caught her hand, curling his fingers around hers. In control again, she turned back to him. She didn't smile, but neither did she relinquish her grip on his hand.

Ginny, who had positioned her bedding closest to Harry, turned to him now, her expression serious.

"So we just sit here and wait for Voldemort to attack us?" she demanded. Harry nodded heavily.

"Unfortunately, Ginny, yes," he replied. "I don't believe he can afford to let this opportunity pass. He must get Fred back, and he must get him back before tomorrow night."

"And there's nothing we can do to pre-empt him? You know, get in first? Force him to fight the battle on our terms?" Ginny was twitching with frustration.

"I wish there were," Harry replied regretfully, "but we've already done all we can to turn the situation to our advantage. And that's precious little, I grant you." There was a short silence.

"Harry," Ginny began again, "there's something I'm still not terribly clear about." Harry smiled and took her hand gently.

"Fire away," he said. "After all, we've got all night!" Ginny squeezed his hand and frowned slightly.

"It's about the temple," she began. "I understand that it's one of the few places in the world that You-Know-Who can use to cross over into our dimension, but where did it come from? I mean, who built it and for what purpose? Did he build it himself when he was still in human form? Did someone else build it on his instructions?"

"Now that's something I was curious about myself," Harry replied, aware that the others had fallen silent and were listening. "While Ron was researching the witch who sold this house to me, I was doing a little investigation of my own, at the Land Registry amongst other places. It turns out that there have only been three owners of this property: the original builder of the house, who was also the architect and lived here until his death; a Senior Officer in the British Army who served in India during the Raj; and, after his death, his eldest son." Harry paused to gather his thoughts.

"It was the British Officer who interested me," he continued. "This man spent most of his active life in India, together with his family, and came home only when he retired. I made a few enquiries about him. He was, I think, a genuinely good man. During his time in India, he developed a deep sympathy with the Hindu faith, a sentiment which was shared by his family, in particular his eldest son. There are no planning records relevant to the temple, nothing official whatsoever, but together with the deeds of the house are purchase orders for building materials and letters of contract with local artisans. There are no plans or drawings, unfortunately. The eldest son must have assisted him in the building and design, and also by visiting India on at least one occasion to bring back the wonderful decorations, the paintings, wall hangings, statues, etc. Once the old man died, the eldest son sold up and went back to India, taking his family with him. In fact, there is some evidence to suggest that he had married a native woman, although I have my doubts on that issue."

"Why?" Ginny was puzzled. "Surely that would make sense, I mean, they had to get their knowledge of the religion from somewhere."

"Muggles are funny," Harry replied, to a murmur of agreement. "When the British were in India, they were the overlords, the conquerors. Even though it wasn't their country, they ruled it, and they looked on the Indians as inferior. For an Englishman of status to marry an Indian woman would have been anathema; it would have caused social uproar. He and his family would have become outcasts: neither the English nor the Indians would have accepted them." The gang stared at each other in amazement.

"So marrying Parvati or Padma would have meant that none of our friends would have anything more to do with us?" It was Lee talking. George laughed.

"Just don't tell Seamus then." There was a general chuckle.

"After the eldest son took his family back to India," Harry continued, "the house was left empty for a while. It was then that my vendor took it on - she must be very old now, even for a witch."

"Harry," asked Hermione, "you mentioned the Hindu religion. I've heard of it, having had a Muggle upbringing, but I suspect the others haven't. Do you know anything about it?"

"Yes," acknowledged Harry. "Enough to provide some background anyway. Hinduism began as a sort of primitive village cult in Eastern societies, but it rapidly spread all over the world. It has many, many different gods, some more important than others, and new gods are being added to their number all the time. The three major deities, Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer, form a kind of unit, but unlike Christianity, they are totally separate entities. They do not unite to form a Trinity, a three-in-one; they exist independently of each other, representing the three states of nature.

"I think the fact that it was built along intersecting lines of power is no accident. Wizards exist in all walks of life, and if they are not caught and trained early, their magic will surface only haphazardly. Albus Dumbledore once confided to me that although the wizard world is aware of every single wizard from the moment of their birth, for many and various reasons, a large number of them live out their lives totally ignorant of their provenance. There are many religious leaders in Muggle history who are quite obviously sensitives, if not fully-fledged wizards, acting on instinct rather than training. I think our ex-army officer was one of those sensitives. He must have had talent in order to situate his temple in precisely the spot he chose, but I don't believe he had any evil intentions. No, I think Voldemort corrupted this temple, just as he corrupts every other worthwhile thing he touches. He was just lucky to find this place, all ready and waiting for him. Just incredibly lucky." Harry's face became bleak and bitter and he fell silent.

The next couple of hours were spent in desultory conversation as the gang individually tried to get some rest. They all knew that sleep would be very difficult to attain, but it could do no harm to try, surely.

Suddenly, without warning, they leaped to their feet, galvanized into action by an abrupt onslaught of thunder. The room seemed full of green fire, shooting into corners, bouncing off windows, filling the space with noise and light. Ginny shrieked in shock, but stayed put in the midst of her bedclothes. Hermione, most uncharacteristically, flung her arms around Ron and buried her head in his chest. George drew his wand, only to have it slapped away by Fred.

"No magic, George!" he shouted. "Besides, I think if we wait a short time, we'll find it's not really necessary."

Fred was right. As suddenly as it had begun, the green fire ceased, leaving the room in total silence.

"What the hell was that?" spluttered Lee. Harry picked himself up off the floor, straightening his clothes.

"If I read it correctly, Lee," he began, "it was the Avada curse, sent many, many times. It was meant to wipe us out completely." Harry smiled, grimly. "Voldemort is about to discover his mistake."

But if Harry expected the Dark Wizard himself to come to inspect the damage, or at least to send a lieutenant, he was disappointed. Nothing happened, and as the minutes turned into hours, the gang began to settle themselves again.

Harry had advised them to at least lie on their bedding, to give their bodies a chance to relax. He himself appeared, at first sight, to be sleeping: he was stretched on top of his bedding with his hands under his head, calm and relaxed, breathing deeply and evenly. Only his eyes gave him away. They were wide open and staring at nothing. Harry was in fact meditating using a technique taught to him by an elderly Buddhist during his travels in China. The method achieved a state of total muscular repose and lifted the consciousness to a level approaching sleep, but left the practitioner supernaturally sensitive to any disturbance, however small.

"I'm thirsty," said Lee, hoarsely. "I wish we had a drink."

Harry's early warning system had, in fact, started to react several minutes before and he sat up. Voldemort has realised that his attacks have achieved nothing, he thought. He's backtracked and he's starting small.

"You're forgetting the water, Lee," he replied, gesturing to the bottles. "Sorry it's nothing stronger, I suspect we could all do with it."

There was a murmur of agreement, and Lee, grabbing one of the bottles, gratefully sunk half of it in one go.

Round one to us, thought Harry grimly, but he knew that this was only a practice run. There would be many more attempts to be thwarted before the night was over.

The next attack came without warning a few minutes later. Fred suddenly gave a cry of distress and rolled over into the foetal position on the floor, hugging his knees and shaking.

"C-cold," he muttered, between chattering teeth. "F-freezing cold."

"Quickly!" snapped Harry. "Ron, the blankets. Cover him. I should have suspected this would happen fairly early on."

He helped wrap all the spare blankets they had over the shaking Fred in the hope of easing the fever.

"Fred is the weakest of all of us because of his prolonged exposure to Voldemort during his capture," he murmured worriedly. "And as the ultimate target of these attacks, he's bound to be the worst affected."

At that moment, Fred gave a convulsive shudder and collapsed into total immobility. George made a wordless exclamation and turned him over, looking up to find Ginny by his side. Together, they manoeuvred Fred into coma position, then Ginny checked his pulse and respiration and tucked the blankets back around him, sitting back on her heels.

"He's unconscious," she told them. "I suspect the strength of the attack was too much for his weakened state. It's the best thing really. If he stays out of it for the rest of the night, he'll be beyond Voldemort's reach." Harry nodded at her.

"George?" he said. The redhead looked towards him. "Can I ask you to babysit? Someone needs to be responsible for Fred and to alert the rest of us if and when he wakes."

George nodded seriously and turned to where Fred was lying.

"I think we had better get back to our places," said Harry to the others. "As you can see, Voldemort has already begun his onslaught and, according to my watch, it's only 11.00pm. There's a lot of night still to come, and he may not even stop with the dawn." If we last out that long! he added silently.

There was a long period of inactivity after Fred's collapse. Ginny, curled up next to Harry, seemed to fall into a light doze. George, kneeling next to Fred, kept careful watch on his brother, checking his pulse, breathing and temperature regularly. Lee lay stretched out on his back staring at the ceiling, his lips moving faintly. Working through some computer calculation, probably, thought Harry. Hermione and Ron talked for a while in low tones, but now merely sat together in companionable silence. Ron appeared to be debating something. Abruptly, with an air of finality, he rose to his feet and walked deliberately over to Harry.

"That's it," Ron said, belligerently. "I've had enough of this. I'm tired, hungry, chilly and uncomfortable. I'm fed up with lying here on a cold hard floor making a fool of myself for no reason at all. I'm going out of that door into the study to make myself a drink, then I'm going to Apparate home to my bed. And I suggest the rest of you do likewise."

Harry looked up at Ron calmly enough, but his insides were churning with anxiety: this was a different kind of attack.

"Ron," he began, "are you still not convinced that we are, even now, under attack by Voldemort? That your brother is in great danger? You saw what happened to Fred."

Ron shook his head stubbornly.

"I think it's all a load of bull," he returned bluntly. "Fred just had - some sort of fit, that's all. If You-Know-Who was going to attack us, he'd do it in broad daylight with curses and hexes and goodness-knows-what. He must be laughing himself sick at the thought of us spending the night lying here on the floor. Well, I've had enough - I'm off!"

Harry pushed his bedclothes aside and rose to his feet.

"Ron," he said again, putting hands on the taller man's shoulders, "we've been friends for a very long time, yes?" Ron nodded, unwillingly. "And you may very well be wiser than me. You may know in your heart that Voldemort will not attack us tonight, that all these preparations are so much nonsense. However, I, as your friend, will freely admit to being very frightened that Voldemort will indeed attack us tonight. So, for the sake of our friendship, I ask you to put up with the discomfort and stay with me here, for as long as it takes. Will you do that for me?"

Ron scowled, then shrugged off Harry's hands.

"Well, since you put it that way, I can't really do anything else, can I?" Ron muttered ill temperedly, stomping back to his bedding. Harry lay down again, suppressing a small smile: Voldemort really didn't understand such things as friendship and loyalty, even though he seemed to make much of the latter quality. Defeating that particular assault had been really very simple. But Harry was not given further time to gloat, for the next attack was already on them. There was a sudden sharp tapping on the window, startling Hermione into a small scream.

"George?" came a familiar voice, "George, are you in there?" Ron stared at George and Ginny, his mouth open.

"It's Mum!" he hissed, "What in Merlin's name is she doing here?"

"George!" continued the voice. " George, are you there? I need your help. It's your father; he's had an accident. Hurry up and open the door. Come on, let me in!"

Automatically, George swung towards the patio doors, preparing to open them when Harry caught hold of his arm.

"George, no!" he said forcefully. "That's not your mother!"

"What are you talking about Harry?" George began indignantly, trying to shake him off. "Do you think I don't know my own mother's voice?" Harry refused to let go.

"I tell you that is not your mother!" he insisted, "And if you open the door to look, you will find something very different waiting for you to let it in - and it will be the last thing you ever see!"

The Weasleys froze in horror, listening to the uncannily accurate imitation of Molly Weasley while the voice pleaded, cajoled and finally ceased in a trailing wail that set the hairs on the backs of their necks bristling.

"Get into a circle around Fred!" barked Harry, urgently. "Backs to the middle, facing outwards. I think Voldemort is about to take off his kid gloves. Whatever you do, don't leave the room!"

The gang huddled together, frightened eyes darting around the room.

"What's that?" hissed Hermione, pointing to a corner of the room where the shadows seemed somehow distorted, as if through a lens. The gang watched in horrified fascination as the very air seemed to coalesce and thicken into a dark shape, which rapidly developed into a human figure.

"Wormtail!" spat Harry, in disgust. "How many times do I have to kill him before he lies down? Hermione - NO!" Hermione had instinctively pulled out her wand and was about to hex the Deatheater. Harry grabbed her arm before she could release the curse.

"Sorry, Hermione, but no magic - please!" he begged. "If just one of your curses should hit the barrier, we're finished." Hermione nodded, white-faced and trembling.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I forgot." Harry patted her arm.

"Perfectly natural reaction." he replied, turning to face the Deatheater with a determined expression. He spread his arms wide.

"Your move, Wormtail," Harry said simply, and waited.

Wormtail seemed to take his time. He walked all around the room checking the doors and windows, examined the small closet in the corner, peered at their bedding and supplies of food and water. Suddenly he gave a low hiss.

"You seem to have thought of most things," he said with grudging respect. Harry shrugged.

"We aim to please," he responded lightly. Suddenly Wormtail raised his wand.

"Incendium deflagro!" he shouted, sending bolts of searing orange light at the gang. Reflexively, Harry dropped to the floor like a stone, dragging Ginny with him. The others followed suit, stifling yells of surprise. The attack hit the invisible barrier and burst into a shower of sparks, momentarily defining the limits of the bubble as it did so. It bounced back towards the hapless Wormtail who shrieked, ducking the various magical fragments.

"Did you see that?" shouted Lee getting to his feet. "He can't get his Inferno curse past our bubble - he's powerless!"

It certainly appeared that way. But Wormtail had decided that enough was enough: he sheathed his wand and began to dematerialise.

"He's given up!" crowed Lee. "One up to us!"

Privately, Harry thought that might be putting their achievement rather too high, but he had no time to ponder as the next onslaught was already upon them.

"Ginny? Ginny, what on earth are you doing here with these weirdos? Come on, let's get out of here and go home."

Ginny's face drained of all colour and she clamped a hand firmly over her mouth to stifle a scream.

"David?" she choked quietly, incredulously. There was a movement in the shadows, and suddenly the figure of David Markland was standing in the room, Armani suit, Gucci shoes, immaculately groomed as always.

"I've come to take you home, Ginny," it said, holding out a hand to the terrified girl. She shook her head, slowly then more insistently.

"No, no," she whispered. "We split up, David. You dumped me when you found out I was a witch. This is my home now." The figure smiled gently.

"It was a big shock, Ginny, you must admit that," it said. "Was it surprising that I needed time to digest what you'd told me? Time to work it all out? Come home, Ginny: let's start again." He extended his hand towards the redhead and, to the gang's horror, Ginny actually started to move towards him.

"No!" whispered Harry, his mouth suddenly dry. The shade of David Markland smiled more broadly, beckoning to Ginny, reaching to grasp her hand, when suddenly it stretched too far and touched the invisible barrier. The facial features contorted with pain and rage, flowing away like melting candle wax. For a fleeting moment, the figure became something totally inhuman before dissolving quickly away into nothing. Ginny turned away, burying her face in Harry's shoulder.

"It was a manifestation," Harry explained calmly, holding her tightly. "It wasn't real, Ginny. Voldemort can delve into the surface of our minds, but we instinctively prevent him from reading us any more deeply. He made that construct out of your memories of David. You saw how quickly it was destroyed by our Bubble."

Suddenly, a choking sound alerted the gang to another assault, swiftly on the heels of this last one. Lee lay on the floor, his hands to his throat, his face rapidly changing colour from his normal healthy lustre to a greyish tinge. Hermione gave a cry and dropped to her knees. She looked up.

"It's magic now, Harry, or he dies." she said grimly, "I have to do it."

Harry nodded tensely. Hermione produced her wand for the second time that night and steadied herself to perform the counter curse. At the last moment, she made a slight alteration to the incantation, making the spell specific to Lee, and launched it at him. Abruptly, Lee gave a violent lurch, then collapsed, drawing in gulps of air in great whooping gasps. Ron and Harry propped him into a sitting position.

"That was well thought of, Hermione." said Harry, patting Lee's back gently. "In a crisis like that, I don't think I would have had the presence of mind to personalise my spell." She shrugged.

"It just seemed like a good idea at the ..." Hermione glanced over his shoulder and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my wand! Harry - look!" The entire gang swung round and were completely struck dumb. There in front of them, fragile and vulnerable, stood Cho Chang.

It was as though they had been frozen into statues, all of them. Ron, his arms wrapped protectively around Hermione, stared dumbly in amazement; Lee still lay prone on the floor, breathing harshly and raspingly; Ginny drew back from the manifestation into George's reassuring bulk, her small fists clenched. Slowly, Harry stood up and surveyed the small figure before him.

"What do you want?" he said, tonelessly. Cho Chang smiled at him and her lovely face lit up.

"Harry! Oh, Harry, I've missed you so much!" she cried, holding out her arms. Harry didn't move, nor did he smile. She hasn't changed at all, he thought. Cho Chang was still nineteen, slim and extremely pretty in an active, athletic sort of way, just as she had been when he saw her alive for the last time.

"You're dead," Harry said, tonelessly. "I saw your body on a mortuary slab. It was you alright, I should know." Cho's face assumed a solemn, sorrowful expression.

"Harry, I know you thought you saw me in the mortuary," she began. "But it wasn't me, truly. You-Know-Who kidnapped me. He stole me away and put a Glamour on someone else to make it look like I had died." Harry was shaking his head.

"I put an Out of Harms Way charm on you," he told the figure. "It was unbroken when I identified you. That's how I knew you hadn't died by accident."

"Harry," Cho's voice was urgent, "he knew about the charm, don't you see? He duplicated it on my stand-in and fooled you."

"It was a particular variant I designed myself," Harry insisted, his voice rising in pitch. "It had my hallmarks all over it like fingerprints, even the bits I had to rework slightly were there. It was my charm, Cho; you died that day." Cho was shaking her head vehemently.

"No, no, Harry!" she protested. "I swear to you that he duplicated your charm. I'm real, Harry, as real as you are. Come, touch me, prove it to yourself."

Cho held out a hand and Harry, feeling his muscles react in reflex, dragged himself back just in time. Cho's face was disappointed.

"You don't trust me," she said sorrowfully.

"Too right I don't!" Harry raked a despairing hand through his hair. "Okay, Cho, or whatever you are. What do you want from me?" The delicate figure drew itself upright.

"Okay, Harry, if you want to play it that way." Cho's expression was sad. "You-Know-Who wants a trade. He's prepared to make an exchange for the life of Fred Weasley."

"Oh?" replied Harry, warily. "And what exactly do I get for handing over one of my oldest friends to an enemy not exactly known for his justice or mercy?"

"You get me," Cho said, standing tall but with her voice quavering. "You get me back in full physical health with all my memories intact. Think of it, Harry!" Her eyes lit up.

"You've pined for me for years - now you could have me back! After all, you were the one responsible for my death in the first place, weren't you?" Cho's voice took on a persuasive, wheedling quality. "And Cedric's too, don't forget. After all, if you hadn't got Cedric killed in that stupid Triwizard Tournament, I'd probably never have agreed to get involved with you at all. But you persuaded me into it eventually - and then you got me killed too. Don't you think you owe me something after all that?"

Harry didn't answer. Ginny looked towards him and her heart froze. Harry's face was distorted with pain and grief, but underneath all that anguish, she could just catch a glimmer of hope, a tiny ray of longing that had never quite been extinguished over the long intervening years. Harry hung his head in agony, unable to speak.

"No," Ginny whispered, grappling for her wand. "No, you can't do this!" The thin piece of wood slid from its sleeve pocket into her hand, her lips framed a curse, she pointed her wand straight at the figure of Cho Chang.

But she wasn't quick enough. Another wand had been drawn, an incantation shouted in anger, a curse launched straight at the figure of Cho Chang, breaking the protective bubble, their one defence against the Dark Lord!

Instantly, Cho ducked, easily evading the curse, and her face broke into an evil, triumphant grin as she swept her wand from her sleeve with a flourish.

"Come forth, servants of the Dark Lord: I summon you to destroy those who would stand in our way!" she shrieked in a changed voice, holding her wand aloft and throwing lightning flashes around the room.

Abruptly, the room seemed to be full of people; cloaked and hooded people who exuded a horrible triumphant menace. As Harry spun around, breathing heavily, looking this way and that, he realised that a ring of Deatheaters surrounded them. Their protection was gone, and there was no escape.

Ginny screamed in horror as David took shape once more, still suave and sophisticated, but his face etched with delighted malice. As the noise and thunder from Cho's wand increased, Harry and the others found their attention held by something much larger and scarier beginning to appear.

Just as they had seen it in the temple, a tall figure was gradually forming before their eyes, firstly as floating red lines of power, quickly joined and covered by an opaque surface, giving the illusion of solidity. The figure then began to gain certain characteristics - long, bony hands, skeletal features, black robes and flaming red eyes in a cruel, twisted face, which was at this moment alight with triumph. However, the figure seemed unable to achieve any real presence or stability; the image flickered like an uncertain lightbulb, or a very old newsreel. Meanwhile as the Deatheaters bowed their heads to the apparition, 'Cho' and 'David' flung themselves to the floor before the half-formed figure's feet.

"Master!" 'Cho' cried, exultantly, gleefully, "Watch what I shall do in your name!"

And while Voldemort was still taking shape, she pointed her wand at the cowering group of friends and crowed in exultation.

"Thank you very much." she said silkily. "One of you has been remarkably foolish and has made my task a good deal easier than I expected. Now that one shall reap her reward - a swift and immediate death. Avada Kedavra!" Green fire jetted from Cho's wand, directly towards a petrified Hermione.

And at that moment Harry Potter stood, his face grey with fatigue, pointed his wand towards Cho, and snapped in a clear, incisive voice eleven words that bore no relation to any language known to anyone present. There was a soundless explosion that briefly turned everything into a black and white negative. The figures of Cho, David, the Deatheaters and the not-yet-quite manifested Voldemort wailed in unbearable agony and seemed to collapse in on themselves, sucked into a rushing vortex of white winds. The others were knocked senseless to the floor by the impact.

Then there was total silence, broken only by the distant sound of birdsong: dawn had come at last.

"A Most Ingenious Paradox"

[A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher]

Chapter Nine - The Last Battle

Harry awoke wondering what on earth he had been doing the previous evening to warrant such a monumental hangover. He opened gritty, sticky eyes to focus blearily on the white circle of Ginny's face swimming above him. She looked tired and ill, with huge black circles under her eyelids. As she saw him stir, she spoke over her shoulder to someone out of Harry's field of vision.

"George, he's awake thank goodness!" Ginny turned worried eyes back to Harry.

Harry rubbed a hand over his face and sat up, wincing as light from the room's chandelier lanced through his head. The first thing he noticed was that he was still in the West Room, but he could now see dull daylight through chinks in the curtains. Little by little, an unusual sound intruded upon his consciousness: an odd hoarse gasping, as though someone were labouring through a severe asthma attack without the benefit of salbutamol.

"Ginny," he began, gingerly massaging his temples, "what's the noise?"

Harry was horrified to see Ginny's eyes abruptly fill with tears.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, and buried her head in his shoulder. He held her close for a short while, then she started to speak.

"It's just awful," Ginny said in a tight whisper. "Right at the end, when Cho - or rather, the thing that looked like Cho - was trying to get you to go over to the dark side, Hermione -"

Ginny choked, trying to swallow a sob. Harry took her hands in his, squeezing the fingers urgently.

"Yes, Ginny," he began rapidly, looking into her face. "Hermione tried to curse Cho, and it backfired. Yes, I know all that - I was there, remember?" Ginny nodded, trying hard to gain control of her voice.

"Yes, of course," she whispered. "Well, when Hermione's curse hit the bubble, it - it broke..."

"Yes, yes, I know," Harry shook Ginny's hands lightly in agitation. He sighed, feeling the muscles ache all over his body.

"The Invocation I used must have been at least partially successful," he continued. "After all, we're still alive." Ginny's smaller fingers all but crushed his hands.

"Harry, will you listen!" she wailed. "Cho threw the death curse at Hermione. At the time, I thought you must have got in first with whatever magic you used to finally banish Voldemort and his allies, but when we woke up this morning, we found that Hermione was - was dead."

Harry froze in appalled disbelief. Ignoring the pain in his head, he freed himself from Ginny's embrace and moved quickly to where Hermione lay, still and cold. Ron crouched over her, oblivious of anything else in the room. He did not touch the body in any way but merely stared at her pale, lifeless face. Tears streamed unashamedly down his cheeks in a more or less constant flow and his breath came in harsh sobs, tearing and painful. Lee stood by Ron's side, obviously at a loss to know what to do.

"He's losing his voice," whispered Ginny coming up behind Harry. "He's been like this since he woke up."

"Yeah, and that's not all, Harry." George came over. He looked drained and haggard. "They got Fred."

Harry turned incredulous eyes on George at this further devastating blow and felt his stomach lurch with a sick foreboding. I've failed, his mind screamed at him. For all my vaunted power, my skills and training, I couldn't protect them. Harry Potter sank to his knees in utter weariness and buried his face in his hands.

As far as morale went, there wasn't much further for them to go down. Incessant sobbing had deprived Ron of the ability to speak. He refused to leave Hermione's side, staring emptily at her dead face, hugging his shoulders and rocking himself in agony. George was inconsolable: charged with protecting his helpless brother, he had let the powers of darkness snatch Fred from under his nose. He acted as though he had lost his right arm and was still numb from the shock. Lee's analytical brain seemed unable to process the events of the previous evening, but it was Harry who ultimately seemed to be taking the brunt of the tragedy on his shoulders. Brooding darkly, he sat cross-legged in a corner of the West Room, speaking to no one, his mind going round and round in panicked fugues. There seemed to be no way forward.

Some little time later, Ginny decided she'd had enough. Someone had to make some kind of stand here, and despite all their prior courage and bluster, not one of the men was capable of fighting his way out of a wet paper bag at present. Whatever complexities had entered her life since her unexpected liaison with Harry, she simply couldn't allow her own wounded feelings to interfere with the safety of her family. Despite their easygoing exterior, all the Weasleys had come equipped with a core of toughened steel, and the youngest was no exception. Accustomed to making her way by persuasion rather than fiat, Ginny was surprised to find her resolve hardening. Leadership material she wasn't, but right now she seemed to be all they had left.

Bullying Harry, Lee and George out of the West Room to shower and change their clothes was a good introductory lesson for Ginny in the art of giving orders. Ron, of course, refused to move or even to hear her, but eventually, using a combination of persuasion and downright threats, she cajoled him into observing some of the niceties of hygiene. Ginny then headed for the kitchen, mentally planning a good, hot lunch to restore some lost energy. Exploring the depths of the larder and fridge, she assembled the makings of a halfway decent meal. Once we've got some food inside us, things will seem less desperate, she thought hopefully. Drawing back the curtains from the large kitchen window, she paused in surprise.

"Well, that's something you don't often see in high summer!" she muttered to herself in puzzlement.

Lee Apparated to the flat to procure some clean clothes for Ron and himself. Half expecting the place to be dominated by incessantly ringing messageglobes and piles of owl post, he was surprised to find everything orderly and rather eerily quiet. Glancing out of the window, he scratched his head, perplexed; the street was blanketed by a thick white cloud. Dense, glutinous fog, impenetrable and totally unseasonable, made the city unrecognisable.

"I don't like this." Lee muttered, flattening his nose against the glass. "I don't like this at all."

Back at Harry's House, Ginny's chilli con carne turned out to be surprisingly tasty, but for all the attention the men paid, it could have been sawdust and cardboard. When they had finished all they were going to eat, Ginny put down her glass of juice gently but decisively.

"Okay," she said quietly, "What's the next step?"

Lee stared in amazement bordering on stupefaction.

"You want to go on, to continue with this - this downright stupidity, after what happened last night?" he protested. "We don't stand an earthly. A mouse would have a better chance taking on a manticore. Ginny, he flattened us! How we escaped with our lives, I'll never know. And you can sit there, cool as a cucumber, talking about our next step? Our next game of dice with death?"

"Certainly I can," Ginny replied firmly, skewering Lee with the directness of her glare, "because I must. One of my very best friends has been brutally murdered and I'm going to miss her badly." She paused to let that sink in before continuing. "However, before I grieve for her, I want to do my damnedest to ensure that whoever is responsible pays for what they have done. My brother's life also stands on a knife-edge, at the mercy of Hermione's killer. Think about that for a moment. What do you suggest we do, Lee? Abandon Fred? Consign him to the scrapheap? Just one more loss; one more casualty to Voldemort's lust for power? For Merlin's sake, do you think he'd back off if it were you and not him that Voldemort chose to take? You can bet your bottom dollar he wouldn't even dream of it!" Ginny sat back, her eyes fixed on the computer wizard until he looked away abashed.

"And besides," Ginny continued in a quieter voice, "if we don't get moving soon, George will try to find Fred on his own." She paused to smile at her sibling, getting a faint twitch of the lips in reply.

"I know my brothers very well, thank you," Ginny continued, "and I can assure you that they look after each other's interests to almost ridiculous levels. I'm not about to let him go off half-cocked and get himself killed, now am I?" She silenced George's feeble attempt at a protest with a look.

"So, I'll ask again," Ginny concluded, turning to fix each and every one of them with her stare. "What have we got to go on?"

There was a clatter as Harry dropped a teaspoon in his mug of half-cold tea. He sighed wearily and gave her a look almost of dislike.

"Alright, Ginny," Harry said tiredly. "Alright, you've made your point." He sat up in his chair and put a hand to his forehead as if trying to coax his brain to come online.

"Well, the first thing to do is to find Hermione's notes," Harry said finally. "I guess they must be in her study."

A muscle at the side of Ron's face twitched slightly at the mention of Hermione's name, but otherwise he betrayed no reaction. Ginny held up a small notebook.

"Check," she replied. "What do you need to know?"

"The exact time of the next conjunction," Harry answered. "Also the other points in the world where lines of power intersect. He's not going to use the temple again, not after last night, so he's got to find somewhere else to make the transfer. Hermione should have recorded details of her conversations with Professors Sinistra and Radcliffe. You can use them to calculate other intersection points, Ginny. I suggest when you look for correlations you confine yourself to England and the rest of the British Isles. The closer the better. I don't suppose Voldemort will want to cause Fred's body any more distress than necessary, so he'll only move as far away from here as he has to."

"Okay then," said Ginny, closing the notebook and gesturing to Lee with a kind of grim efficiency. "Let's get moving. Come on Lee, get that immense brain of yours in gear and help me!" With Lee in tow, Ginny swept out of the kitchen and into Hermione's study, closing the door behind them.

Harry rose from the table then paused, looking down at Ron. Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

"Ron," Harry began in a low voice. Ron grunted, but otherwise gave no sign. Harry continued.

"Ron, I've got to do a couple of things - for Hermione you know."

Ron's head jerked up at the mention of her name.

"Don't you touch her!" he said in a low, hoarse voice. "You mustn't do anything to her body now, please. She's been through enough, hasn't she? Let her rest in peace." Harry tightened his grip on Ron's arm.

"I've got to use a couple of enchantments, Ron," said Harry, gently. "To make sure that Voldemort can't use her body for evil means."

"What do you mean?" demanded Ron, looking at Harry for the first time. "That bastard can't touch her now, can he? I mean, she's - she's dead, isn't she?"

Fresh tears began to well up and Harry patted his friend's shoulder awkwardly.

"I have to make sure he can't reach her," Harry explained. "We can't take her with us when we leave this house, Ron. We'll have to leave her here alone. I need to make sure that Voldemort can't move her anywhere else, or even try to - reanimate her."

"You mean like a - zombie?"

Harry nodded gravely. Ron considered for a moment and an expression of extreme distaste rippled across his face. He looked back at his friend.

"Do what you must," Ron said quietly. "I don't want him to abuse her body, particularly now she can't defend it herself."

Harry nodded, gave Ron's shoulder a final pat then went to perform the necessary tasks.

After a while, George went in search of Harry. He admitted to himself that he was curious about the measures Harry needed to take to ensure the safety of Hermione's remains, but he was also anxious for Harry himself. That concern underwent a manifold increase at his first sight of Harry, still in the West Room, standing above Hermione's lifeless body gazing at her familiar, well-loved face.

Harry had evidently finished whatever spells he needed to cast, but he made no attempt to leave. He merely stood shaking his head over and over again, deep in grief and remorse.

"Hermione," he murmured. "Oh, Hermione, my friend, forgive me; I failed you. Ron, I'm so sorry." He buried his face in his hands in heartfelt grief, his shoulders heaving.

"Ron knows it wasn't your fault." George spoke quietly, leaning a hand on Harry's shoulder, trying not to alarm him. Harry started violently and spun round, shaking off the consoling hand with unnecessary vehemence. He turned towards George with a face so full of anger and loathing that the other man took an involuntary step backwards.

"Not my fault?" Harry spat, his voice dripping with self-contempt. "Not my fault? If I hadn't been so damn rattled by that manifestation of Cho Chang, I'd have noticed the attack on Hermione. You know how levelheaded she was; she would never have made such an elementary mistake if she hadn't been got at! I should have twigged when she was so wand-happy earlier on. I screwed up, George, it's as simple as that. I screwed up - and Hermione paid the price."

The last was grated out through clenched teeth and Harry turned away, falling silent, gazing at Hermione with an anger and despair terrible to behold. George swallowed on a dry, tight throat then he grabbed Harry roughly and swung him round so that their faces were inches apart.

"Now you just listen to me," he began, deadly quiet. "You're our leader, our oracle of all wisdom, the one we all look up to. Certainly you screwed up; most leaders do once in a while if they're worth their salt, and You-Know-Who is no Sunday-school picnic. Yes, if you'd done things differently, Hermione might still be alive; I'll buy that. But I might not still be here - or you, or Ron, or Ginny, or Lee, or any number of the millions of other people who are on this planet, wizards and Muggles alike." George paused to draw breath, and went on.

"Whatever happened last night, we've still got to keep on fighting, and we can't do it without you. You're the one person we just can't afford to lose: we need you to safeguard Ron and the Grail, and to plan out what we're going to do next, never mind provide the leadership in the final battle. If you collapse on us, then we might as well write off Fred's life as well as Hermione's. Just accept that they both died for nothing, and sit on our arses waiting for the end." Seeing a flicker of reaction on Harry's face, George pressed home his advantage.

"Harry, Ginny and Lee are beating their brains out trying to get a fix on those calculations. Once we've worked out where to go, we've got to have some kind of a plan. Some idea what to do when we get there." George was virtually spitting in his vehemence. "This is my brother's life we're talking about, not to mention the future of the civilised world. Come on Harry: think!"

George was shaking Harry so hard the man was beginning to see stars. Eventually, Harry exerted enough pressure on George's biceps to free himself from the painful grip.

"Okay, okay, George: you've made your point."

George released him, wincing as he rubbed at the bruises on his upper arms. Harry looked up. His face was haggard from strain and lack of sleep, there were deep shadows under his eyes, but his expression was calm and his eyes at last were clear. Harry Potter was a going concern once again. George expelled a soft sigh of relief.

"Okay," he said, quietly. "What first?" Harry stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Ginny, Lee and Hermione's notes," he replied succinctly, "and if they are not fruitful, perhaps an emergency Apparation to Florence to consult the good Professor Radcliffe again might be in order."

On arrival back in the kitchen, they found Ginny and Lee buried in Hermione's notebook scribbling calculations on some scrap parchment.

"We're in luck, Harry," Ginny greeted him. "Hermione had already made some preliminary calculations. We've found only two possible places, and one of those is a far weaker intersection than the other. I'd put very good odds on the first."

Harry looked carefully at their results and nodded.

"I'm inclined to agree," he affirmed. "Well done! You're sure there are no others?"

"Positive." Lee was totally dogmatic where he knew himself to be right.

"Where is it exactly? Geographically, I mean," asked Harry. Ginny was already checking an atlas.

"Not too far, actually," she told him. "Near Amesbury on Salisbury Plain. It's quite a tourist attraction so we'll have to be careful." She looked up at them, the beginnings of a smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. "Believe it or not, it's at Stonehenge."

~ooOoo~

The rest of the day was something of a blur, a haze of preparation. Harry had snapped straight back into his customary decisiveness and, by a mixture of encouragement and downright bullying, achieved his object.

They would drive to Amesbury, Harry proclaimed. There was no way they could Apparate even half the distance and still be in a fit state to rescue Fred, so they would have to travel the distance in his car instead.

"Why don't we just Port there?" suggested George. "Fred's Ministry Portkey's still at the flat; I know where he keeps it. All we need to do is set it to take us to Amesbury, or somewhere far enough away to be circumspect and Bob's your uncle!" Harry shook his head.

"No, George," he replied firmly. "The last thing we need is to alert Voldemort to our presence. Whether we can maintain the element of surprise remains to be seen, but I want to keep as low a profile as possible. As from now, we are tourists travelling in the West Country."

George backed down, but he was evidently not happy with the situation. During a suitable pause, he grabbed hold of Harry's arm and propelled him over to the window.

"You must have noticed this, but I guess you've been rather too preoccupied to take it in," George said, gesturing to the impenetrable greyness inches away from their faces. Harry frowned. He reached out an involuntary hand to the window.

"This is - not right," he muttered.

"I'm with you there!" replied George with some heat. "And you expect me to drive through this all the way to Somerset - in Fred's titchy little car! Harry, we'll never get there; we'll be lost or crushed in a pile-up before we've covered half the distance." Harry's index finger tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Okay," he said, making a decision. "We'll hire a bigger car; something with a four-wheel drive, an off-road vehicle, so if we get caught in traffic, we'll have some means to avoid it." George shook his head slowly.

"Harry it'll take too long," he protested. "We'll waste the rest of the day hanging around Muggle car-hire places. By the time we find Fred, if we ever do, it'll be too late!"

"May I make a suggestion?" Ginny approached them determinedly, having caught the tail-end of their conversation.

"What you're looking for is a Landrover or a Jeep - something like that, yes?" she asked. George nodded.

"Yeah," he replied. "And they don't just hand those out without checking your bona fides pretty thoroughly first." Ginny smiled, not without malice.

"Strangely enough," she began, "I think I know just where to find one."

~ooOoo~

"Flamel's Stone!" Lee clapped a hand over his mouth as Ginny swung the big Jeep into the driveway of Harry's House, spraying gravel over his feet. Her face obstinate and determined, she opened the driver door and jumped down, slamming it after her.

"Where on earth did you get it?" Lee demanded, his eyes taking in every square inch of the high-performance car.

"Never you mind." Ginny brushed past him, moving smartly over to George and Harry, her head held high.

"Good enough, boys?" she asked sardonically. Harry nodded, his eyes alight with admiration.

"Too right, it is!" he responded with a grin. "I won't ask how you did it, Ginny, but, well, thanks. Thanks a million." He crossed over to the car and opened the boot in preparation for stowing their gear. George looked down at his little sister suspiciously.

"If I didn't know better," he said in a low voice, "I'd say that vehicle was borrowed. Does he know?" Ginny shrugged negligently.

"He'll know soon enough," she replied, in an offhand manner, "but by then, we'll be far enough away for it not to matter." George shook his head.

"I'd always thought it was the male Weasleys who were guilty of sailing close to the wind," he said.

"If he didn't want me to drive it, he should never have given me a key," Ginny replied impassively. "After all, the only time he let me take the wheel was on long journeys." She gave a wry smile. "He use to fall asleep in the front passenger seat."

"Seriously, Ginny," George caught her arm. "Do you really think you should be doing this?" Shaking him off, Ginny faced her elder brother, her face implacable.

"This is the quickest way I can think of to get down to Stonehenge and rescue Fred, bar Apparating," she growled. "If you don't like it, you're welcome to stay here and defend my honour, but if you want to be part of this, then I suggest you shut up and get in!" Holding up his hands in mock-dismay, George backed away, moving towards the driver door. Casually, he held his hands out for the keys.

"And if you think you're driving this thing when the only vehicle you're familiar with is Fred's old banger," Ginny shot back, "you need to spend some time in a soft room at St. Mungo's. Get in the passenger seat and start map reading - you can take over when you've worked out what the controls do!"

~ooOoo~

Ginny had planned the route, provided food for the journey and prompted Lee to pick up his, Ron's and the twins' voicemail and phone in messages to their various departments at the Ministry. Ron himself could not be roused from his catatonic stupor.

Ginny also drove the first leg with George map reading, this last task made almost impossible by the weather conditions. The impenetrable blanket of fog covered the entire south and west of the country. The road conditions were potentially extremely hazardous and Ginny drove in an edgy silence for forty-five minutes before the gang realised that they had scarcely seen a car since leaving London. The sole topic of news interest on every Muggle radio station was the unseasonable weather and the gang endured more than an hour of mindless chit-chat before George irritably pushed the off switch.

Lee and Harry sat in the back of the car with Ron between them, trying in vain to stir some life into him. For most of the time, Ron was immovable, locked inside his own mind. Then suddenly, out of the blue, he turned to Harry and spoke with great clarity.

"It wasn't anything to do with you that Hermione and I split up, you know."

"Huh?" Harry was puzzled. Ron continued.

"I know you blamed yourself," he sighed. "We had to spend a lot of time with you when Cho - you know, but it had nothing to do with the relationship going down the tube. I buggered that one up all on my own."

"What do you mean?" Harry was still puzzled.

"Oh, we'd been going out for two years, and Hermione wanted some sort of commitment," Ron continued. "She wanted to know whether we were going to get married, or drift apart. You know Hermoine; always well prepared for everything. You see, she wanted to try to plan her life. If we were going to get married, she wanted to have a family while we were still young and put her career on hold for a few years. However, if we weren't, she was going to study for the Bar straight after leaving Hogwarts. I was too young really to make a decision like that, so we split. Well, not immediately, but when it became clear that I wasn't going to put a ring on her finger while we were still at school, she more or less assumed that we would go our separate ways once we left. I precipitated the split by attempting to persuade her otherwise, I'm afraid." Ron gave a wry grimace.

"She's a strong-minded person, is my Hermione." Ron paused, swallowed then continued in a lower voice. "Was a strong-minded person, I meant to say." His lower lip quivered then he seemed to deliberately take his mind off the hook again. Harry was unable to rouse Ron again for some hours.

While the Range Rover ate up the miles, Harry spent the time trying to plan some kind of strategy to deal with Voldemort once they reached Stonehenge, but he found that his brain refused to function. He felt listless and vague, such indistinctness made worse by the blankness of the windows as the miles ticked by.

"Shock probably." Lee answered succinctly when Harry mentioned his odd detachment. "I'm not feeling entirely myself either. Let's be honest: it would take someone with a will of iron not to be affected by what happened last night."

Oddly, it never once occurred to Harry during that long, tedious journey, that they might be wrong about the location, that their sudden ability to second-guess Voldemort might just be a little too convenient. Harry went over and over the possibilities, trying to jump-start his brain into putting together a suitable plan of action. However, short of turning up and launching into a full-scale sorcerous battle, he could come up with nothing even vaguely resembling a strategy. I'm losing my touch, he thought despairingly. Gritting his teeth, he went through their options for the fiftieth time.

"Do you know anything about Stonehenge, Harry?" George broke into Harry's deliberations. "I know it's famous, but I've never been there and, apart from seeing the odd picture in the newspapers, I don't know very much about it. I presume it's magical - these things usually are. Do you know anything that might help us tonight?" George was now driver and was desperate for something to take his mind off the sea of grey just beyond his windscreen.

"A little," Harry replied. "Stonehenge is a special place, a centre of magic so powerful that even some Muggles can sense it. It's really very old, you know. The first wave of building began in about 3,500 BC."

"Wow!" Ginny's eyes were wide and interested. "But how did they build it without modern technology?" Harry smiled.

"That's one of the major questions about Stonehenge. How did these primitive people transport blocks of stone weighing as much as 26 tons originating in Wales, where they were evidently hand-hewn, all the way to a site in the middle of Salisbury Plain? Even when they got them there, the massive job of erecting them in concentric circles, and also placing other huge blocks over the tops of them, like lintels on doorframes, seems inconceivable for primitive people. And the fact that the ancient Brits looked after their monument generation after generation - continuing with the building, repairing and nurturing what was already there - for two thousand years! Most of our buildings, even wizard maintained ones, scarcely last for more than a few hundred years. The other major question is what did they build it for?"

He paused, steepling his fingers, deep in thought: Harry had snapped into university lecturer mode.

"Most Muggle theories centre on the connection with the heavenly bodies," Harry told them. "In the 1960s, an eminent astronomer claimed to have proved that the ancients used Stonehenge as a kind of calculator for astronomical and astrological events. He discovered that certain of the key stones corresponded with certain events, such as the solstices and equinoxes, and thereby deduced that the ancients knew very much more about the heavens than we give them credit for - not to mention the science of construction!" Harry scratched his head with a wry smile.

"Of course, what they don't know is that Stonehenge dates from a time when wizards didn't have to keep their existence secret from Muggles, quite the contrary. Muggles and wizards co-operated in the building of Stonehenge for a very definite purpose. This co-operation lasted for centuries, and Stonehenge was maintained, loved and looked after, until the Dark Ages, when magical people and creatures were persecuted and all but wiped out."

Here Harry paused again, gathering his thoughts.

"Stonehenge was deliberately built on intersecting lines of magic, just like the temple, which gave access to other worlds, other dimensions. The ancient wizards used these connections for knowledge, divination, the development of their own powers, and many other purposes. It wasn't all good, though. Some less scrupulous sorcerers used the access to create portals through which to summon supernatural beings, demons and elementals usually, to give themselves added power over other people, mainly Muggles. In fact, one could say that by doing this, they were responsible for the later persecution of the magical community. By subjecting the world to a virtual invasion of dark beings, far more powerful in this dimension than in their own, these dark wizards were a strong factor in the fall of civilisation and the descent into the Dark Ages. It was to drag Britain out of this primitive lawlessness that the laws proscribing magic and magical creatures were made and enforced - to the grief and suffering of the magical community throughout the world." There was a pause.

"Probably just as well in the end," commented George, glancing away from the road for a moment. "If we still had to co-operate with Muggles, we'd never get anything done!"

"Oh, I don't know, George," put in Lee. "Some wizards aren't all that good at decision-making either. Look at Cornelius Fudge. He's been sitting on the fence for so long he's got a permanent groove in his backside! And I hear that he was once a fairly decent wizard - of course, that was a long time ago. Considering his official line about Voldemort's return while we were still at school, I was surprised he managed to keep his job!"

"Lee!" admonished Ginny, shocked, "This is your boss you're cheerfully slagging off!" Lee shrugged.

"Only to you, and I've probably got enough on every one of you to ensure your silence!"

The car erupted in sudden, relieved laughter, abruptly ceasing at a howl of anguish from Ron. He turned a furious face around his friends.

"How can you do this?" he demanded, hoarsely. "How can you laugh and joke and make light of things? Don't you realise how serious the situation is? Don't you realise what it's already cost us? Hermione's ... Hermione was ..." He couldn't continue.

"She was the best friend anyone ever had, Ron." Harry finished for him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She was good, kind, brave and intelligent, but above all, she loved all of us and she gave her life to keep us safe." Ron was shaking his head miserably.

"I loved her, you know," he burst out. "I loved her more than life. And I never told her; I let her get away. She went to her grave never knowing that in all my life, there was never anyone else."

"She knew, Ron. She knew, and she loved you too."

The words came from George. Unnoticed by the rest, he had carefully drawn into a layby and parked, keeping the engine running. Ron raised his head disbelievingly. George turned around in his seat and nodded forcefully.

"You forget, I lived in the same house for a while," he continued. "I talked to her and listened to her problems when life was getting her down. She said there could never be anyone else for her; that you had always been the one she wanted to be with, but you had to find that out for yourself. She was waiting for you, Ron. She would have been there for you, if she'd lived."

Ron stared at his brother in astonishment then buried his face in his hands.

"Ron," continued George, urgently, "she wouldn't have wanted you to opt out like you're doing now. You know how much courage she had. She'd be gutted if she thought she was responsible for you crouching in a corner, so overwhelmed by your grief for her that you couldn't even help us fight her killer!"

There was a tense silence after this chilly speech. Slowly Ron raised his head.

"Alright, George, I get the picture," Ron said, in a low, rough voice. "I'm not about to stand around while you all rush in and get yourselves flattened - " He shifted awkwardly, winced and pulled a large package out of his pocket, staring at it in bewilderment. "- even if my main function in life seems to be to childmind a cup! What's this doing here?"

It was the Grail, still wrapped in its supermarket polythene bag. Harry saw it and smiled.

"You never bothered to take it out of your pocket," he replied cheerfully. "Now that's what I call being a guardian! I'm glad you brought it, Ron. Who knows - perhaps you were meant to."

"You said it's a very powerful entity, Harry." George put the car into gear, and pulled out on to the road again. "What can it do? Would it be of help to us against Voldemort?" Harry shrugged and looked helpless.

"Ron and I tried to research it and got absolutely nowhere," Harry sighed. "We would have visited Professor Radcliffe again, but time was too short. Anyway, from all we could discover, the Grail is a law unto itself. It is immensely powerful, but it can't be manipulated. It has great healing properties, but only through the attainment of self-knowledge. We can't use it, if that's what you mean, but it may possibly prove to be some sort of ally."

"What if Voldemort should capture it?" Ginny's lovely face was anxious.

"My dear, if Voldemort should get through the portal between the worlds and take possession of Fred's body, nothing will ever stop him again." Harry told her sombrely. "If he wants the Grail, he'll get it however we try to hide it."

Ginny's heart sank, so much so that she scarcely noticed the endearment.

It was late afternoon by the time they approached Amesbury, not that any of the gang could actually see any daylight through the fog. Harry was perversely reminded of Hermione's dinner party when he and Ginny had stood together looking out of the West Room windows at a truly beautiful sunset, the antithesis of this one. He sighed: the world had seemed a much more optimistic place such a short time ago.

Lee had taken over as driver and was so unsure of the directions, he felt the need to check their position every minute or so. Finally, Ginny, who was stoically map reading, pointed out of the window.

"There!" she exclaimed, as several vast standing stones loomed out of the mist. "Is that direct enough for you?" Lee drew the Jeep to a screeching halt at a dead end.

"I can't get any nearer," he complained, peering into the murk at a closed gate with a warning notice attached to it. "We'll need to climb over fences, or something if we're going to get there on foot. Apparently a huge increase in tourists to the region during the nineteen-seventies resulted in serious erosion to the stones, so English Heritage fenced them off and you can only view them from a distance now."

Harry slammed the boot shut and approached Lee carrying several long somethings and wearing a wide grin.

"Forget wire cutters or bolt shears," he said smugly. "In this gloom, we'll be able to fly straight to the outer circle without being spotted by so much as a sparrow!"

Lee looked down to find himself holding his own broomstick. Slowly, his face creased into a matching smile.

~ooOoo~

"What do you think?" George passed the binoculars to Ron, the long grass tickling his nose as he moved. Peering through the lenses, Ron took a long look at the surrounding countryside and sighed.

"Nothing," he replied. Ron was still pale and prone to periods of abstraction, but he was doggedly trying to suppress his grief and shock and act normally, at least until the crisis was over.

"Not a dicky bird," agreed George. "They'd better hurry up. Sunset's only about an hour away, not that you'd notice in this murk!"

George was right; the dampness of the air had seeped into their very bones, but they could discern no life among the stones as yet, only swirling tendrils of fog. Ron looked up as muted footsteps approached.

"Anything yet?" Harry's face loomed out of the mist closely followed by Lee. George shook his head soberly.

"Nothing. Just fog, stones and more stones." George got stiffly to his feet and held out a hand to Ron. The two brothers brushed grass from the jeans.

"Right then." Ron handed the binoculars to Lee. "We'll drop by in half an hour, okay?" Harry and Lee crouched down in the long grass, trying to get comfortable. George and Ron retired to the shelter of a large rock near the ditch where they had stowed their gear. Presently, Ron got to his feet and wandered a little way over towards a field with sheep and a barbed wire fence. George watched him go, wondering whether to follow when Ginny appeared out of the mist. George smiled and patted the ground next to him.

"Warm enough?" he asked. Despite the fact that it was high summer, the fog had taken all the heat out of the air. Ginny nodded.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "You know, it's not really particularly cold, it's just damp. Such odd weather, and all over the south of the country too!"

"Yes," George replied speculatively, but he wasn't given a chance to hold forth on the British climate.

"George?" Ginny's eyes were questioning.

"Yes, sister mine?" responded George lightly with a smile.

"Tell me, was that the truth?" Ginny asked bluntly. "You know, your conversation with Hermione about Ron? What you told him in the car?"

George didn't answer immediately. He pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair then turned to look her straight in the eye.

"No," he said, flatly. "I lied." Ginny nodded, her lips pressed firmly together.

"I thought so," she replied. "Hermione never even spoke to me about Ron, so I very much doubt she'd have opened up to you. So why did you pretend that she had?"

"To get Ron out of his stupor." George replied, simply. "To make sure he would be a bit more than the passenger he's been for the last few hours."

"George!" Ginny was shocked. "How could you do that? To lie to someone who has just been so dreadfully bereaved - your own brother no less - just for the sake of - of..."

"Survival perhaps?" George finished in a very gentle voice, then took her shoulders between his huge hands and looked straight into her eyes. "Ginny, my own and only sister, do you really believe that after this evening any of us is likely to see daylight again?"

A cold hand started to move down Ginny's spine and she stared dumbly at her brother. He smiled sadly and stroked a hand over her lovely hair.

"Can you honestly trust that we're going to defeat Voldemort, even with the redoubtable Harry on our team, busily pulling rabbits out of hats like he's been doing for the past few days?" George smiled sadly. "You-know-who will crush us, Ginny, like flies in autumn, and with as much indifference. But we've got to try, don't you see? I know we can't win, but what's the alternative? Going back home and waiting for Voldemort to find us there? Just like Harry famously said before he went after the Philosopher's Stone, when he was only eleven: it's only dying a bit later than we would have done, because we're never going over to the dark side. So how much longer has Ron got on this earth? If a downright lie from a brother who loves him will make his last few hours more useful and bearable than they might have been, then I'll take that on my conscience gladly."

Ginny looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and glanced up to see Harry looking seriously at George.

"Of course you're right, old friend," Harry said quietly. "We can't possibly win. All we can do is die heroically trying to save Fred, and you never know: we may actually weaken Voldemort before our time is up. Anyway, it's what I'm going to try to do before he kills me. It's the least I can do for Fred and Hermione."

"I'm with you there!" George agreed, giving Harry a high five. The two men looked at each other uncertainly, then George reached out and pulled Harry into a rough embrace.

"It was good, wasn't it?" George said in rather muffled tones. "Living together, working together, fighting the dark magic. We were a good team - weren't we?"

"The best, George," replied Harry, his throat so tight he was virtually whispering. "No one was ever better!" He patted the other man on the back and pulled away, blinking slightly.

"I came to tell you it's your watch," he continued, giving George time to recover. "Ron's already taken over from Lee. Nothing's happened yet."

George nodded and walked off slowly, leaving Ginny gazing in bewilderment at Harry. He shrugged helplessly.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said sadly. "I wish I could conjure up some vague hope for us, but deep inside I know there's just no way I can take on Voldemort again and win. It was down to a few ancient spells I learned on my travels, and some incredible luck that we've made it this far. They know we're coming, I'm certain of that, and they'll show us no mercy. I've got no more tricks up my sleeve, just my love of life, and of all of you, my friends, and my determination not to let it all go without a struggle." Ginny looked up at him and smiled bravely.

"Whatever happens, Harry, I'm glad we decided to fight back," she replied stubbornly. "I'd rather die resisting to the last than live on without my friends and my brothers, just waiting for the end." Harry smiled at her fondly and stroked a wayward tendril of hair away from her face.

"You know, Ginny," he began thoughtfully, "I realised something last night, when that manifestation of Cho appeared. I realised that when she died, I was so convinced that it was my fault that I didn't allow myself to grieve for her properly. Over the years, I tried to forget her, but I could never quite escape the conviction that her love for me had caused her death. Last night was proof positive that, despite the Muggle car that crushed the life out of her, it was Voldemort who was really responsible for her death."

Ginny held her breath lest she in some way shatter the fragile confidence beginning to emerge between them.

"But last night," Harry continued, "when Voldemort offered her back to me in exchange for Fred, I knew that the hold she had on me was gone forever. It was Voldemort who took her in a very deliberate attempt to weaken me, and he had succeeded. Now he was trying to corrupt me using the same technique. I knew Cho was dead; I saw her body. But Voldemort thought I had sunk so low I would be satisfied with a facsimile. Pah!"

Harry gave a sharp exclamation of disgust and suddenly pulled Ginny close against his chest. Tilting her chin towards him, he looked down into her face, his eyes wide and unshuttered.

"He didn't know about you, about us; perhaps he still doesn't," he whispered. "Only you made it possible for me to resist that dreadful temptation."

He began to kiss her - soft, blind kisses one might give a child who had woken in the night. Ginny leaned into his body, holding him hard as though she would never let him go.

"I love you," she murmured. "I've always loved you - you know that."

"Yes," he whispered into the fading light.

~ooOoo~

As the darkness deepened, the fog seemed to thin out a little and the new moon, slender as a lemon rind, began to appear sporadically between the patches of mist. George, who was on watch, eased stiffening limbs, grunted quietly then exhaled with relief.

"They're here, Harry," he said quietly, passing the binoculars. "I'm positive I saw Wormtail."

Harry drew a sharp breath at the sight of his old enemy once more, performed a careful sweep of the area and nodded to himself. He then turned to George.

"Okay," he said, half-reluctantly. "I think this is where you do your stuff, George."

The red-haired man nodded grimly then took off over the grass, quickly fading from sight.

"Wha .. How ..?" Ginny spluttered looking first at Harry, then at the rapidly disappearing form of her brother. She planted her hands on her hips.

"What's going on Harry? And don't tell me I don't want to know, because I do!" Harry's face creased into a smile at her determination.

"Okay, Ginny, but I think you'd better make a promise to keep this dead secret, okay? You too, Lee - if you don't already know about it."

Lee raised his eyebrows but made no further comment. Harry scratched his head.

"Well," he began, "The plain unvarnished truth is that George is an animagus. So is Fred, actually."

"What!" exclaimed Ginny, after a considerable pause. "But - they've never been registered or anything. How did this happen and when, Harry? It's a very difficult thing to become an animagus - how did my two lazy brothers manage to achieve it?"

Harry had the grace to look a little shamefaced.

"You remember that holiday they both took in California, all expenses paid by the Ministry because I was helping them perfect their Glamour art?" she nodded. "Well, we couldn't practice glamour charms all day, could we? So I sort of helped them out with the animagus magic. It all went remarkably smoothly, really."

"What animals do they transfigure into?" asked Ginny, with interest. Lee guffawed.

"Why don't you just take a guess, little sister?" he suggested, with a broad grin. Ginny thought for a moment.

"Not weasels, surely?"

"Got it in one!" Harry smiled. "So now, if by some incredibly lucky chance we manage to get out of this jam alive, you've got to keep very quiet indeed about this. If it gets out at the Ministry, your brothers will be carpeted for sure, and besides, once everybody knows about it, the element of surprise has gone. George is just doing a bit of recce for us - he'll be back within ten minutes or so."

But he wasn't.

Ginny was beginning to feel very odd. The strange, dream-like quality Lee had put down to shock seemed to have intensified as the light faded, and she found her eyesight adjusting, just as it had in the temple. She marvelled at the strange qualities she could see in the very rocks and vegetation around her, and when she looked towards the edifice of Stongehenge itself, the lines of power radiating from the stones were almost blinding in their intensity.

Harry fidgeted, constantly glancing at his watch. Finally, he sighed.

"We'll have to make a move or we'll be too late," he said. "George must have met with difficulties. We'll try to find him as we go."

"Harry," Ginny grasped at his arm, her eyes full of the strange radiance. "It hasn't happened yet. I know it hasn't. Fred is still safe. Please don't do anything now."

Harry stared at her in puzzlement.

"What do you mean?" he asked then cut off his own question. "We haven't got time for this, Ginny, I'm sorry. Let's get going - we've got to do something!"

"Wait!" shouted Lee, "Our broomsticks! At least they'll give us a fighting chance!"

"Yes!" replied Harry, with sudden energy. "Well done, Lee, at least someone's brain is still online! Okay, let's get to it."

Ginny stood entranced, her head tilted slightly to one side as though listening intently for something. She paid no attention to the hustle and bustle going on around her. Her youngest brother approached with both their broomsticks

"Here you are Ginny." Ron handed her the Firebolt. "Ginny?" he queried, uncertainly as she made no move to take it. Ron looked carefully into her face. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated, staring at nothing.

"There is power," Ginny said, faintly. "Great power in the earth. Power of rocks, stones, sky and sea. It - resists his advance. We must help, it's our only chance." Ron frowned.

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" he protested. "We've got to go fight You-Know-Who now, so stop freaking out on me and get on your broomstick!"

He flung the Firebolt at her and all but pushed her on to it. Mechanically, she kicked off from the ground and followed the others, but the strange out-of-this-world feeling would not leave her.

As they circled above the massive structure, Harry could see that they were none too early. The place was crawling with Deatheaters and Fred was stretched out on a massive flat stone, manacles at his wrists and ankles. Wormtail had already begun the Summoning. Harry angled his broomstick to swoop down on the altar.

The battle was short and decisive. It was clear right from the start that Wormtail and the other Deatheaters were ready for them, almost expecting them to strike exactly when they did. As Harry plummeted towards the altar, intending to sweep the unconscious Fred from its surface and climb back up into the sky, Wormtail quickly cast a binding spell which sealed Fred to the surface of the stone, making it impossible for Harry to do more than retreat empty handed. Ron fared little better. Having ploughed into a waiting group of Deatheaters, he discovered that they were more than ready for him and was fighting desperately to fend them off. Harry could see the flashes and smoke from high in the sky as he banked hard, preparing for another dive. Lee was nowhere to be seen, but a commotion off to the left somewhere indicated that he also was fighting for his life.

"BE STILL!" A curiously quiet, evil voice rang out in everyone's ears. The fighting stopped instantly and all eyes turned towards the altar. The figure of Voldemort had materialised, unsteady and two-dimensional it was true, but as going a concern as Harry had ever seen him.

"In a few moments," the figure said, "I shall take possession of this new body, and through it the world!"

There was a ragged cheer from the Deatheaters. Voldemort gestured to them.

"Bring me the prisoners."

Harry watched in pain as Lee and Ron were flung unceremoniously to the ground before Voldemort. Ginny followed swiftly on their heels, still looking dazed: she didn't even seem to have pulled her wand out of its holster.

"And here is one more," smiled Voldemort. He snapped his fingers. "Wormtail?" Immediately, Wormtail delved in a pocket to produce a small, struggling creature with red fur. Voldemort pointed his wand at it.

"Transform, or you die now!" The weasel immediately shimmered and enlarged, becoming a dejected-looking George Weasley. He shrugged at the others.

"I'm sorry," he said. "They were ready for me, even in my animal form!"

"Silence!" roared Voldemort. He looked upwards, straight at Harry who was still on his broomstick, concealed by the low cloud.

"Potter," he said, in a quieter tone. "As you can see, I have your friends. It is possible I will spare one of them, if you will give yourself up now."

Harry had no choice. He flew his broomstick as close to the ground as possible, sliding gracefully from its polished handle to stand next to Ron. He looked at them sorrowfully, but no words would come. He tried to catch Ginny's eye, but she was still caught in her trance, her eyes vacant, her lips vibrating slightly. Voldemort smiled, an evil, satisfied smile.

"So, Potter, we meet again, but in circumstances which are, I fear, not exactly to your liking." Harry sighed.

"There have been no pleasurable occasions on which we have met, you know that, Tom," Harry replied almost amiably. Voldemort frowned.

"You will not call me by that name." Harry raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"Whyever not?" he said. "It's your given name, isn't it?" Voldemort growled angrily.

"The name of my father - that cursed Muggle, who I killed as soon as I had attained a modicum of power. I do not acknowledge him, or his name!"

"That's a shame," said Harry, mildly. "My father's name was James. You killed him too. Do you have some problem with fathers, Tom?"

Voldemort was angry enough to explode and seemed to control himself only with difficulty.

"You will die very painfully and slowly for that, Potter," he snarled, softly and with undeniable menace. But Harry was no longer paying attention to Voldemort; neither was anyone else. They all stared at Ginny.

Ginny stood a little apart from the others, serene and empty-eyed in the face of death. The Deatheaters surrounding her drew back in confusion as an odd metamorphosis commenced. She was still trancelike, but a greenish light emanated from her robes and her face began to glow with a ghostly radiance. She held her arms up to the standing stones surrounding them and spoke in a suddenly clear, resonant voice; a voice completely unlike her own:

"When the Dead One returns to claim his own, the Living Boy and the Dryad must unite in love, and take the Cup of Plenty from the hands of the Pure One to return it to its rightful place."

Slowly, she turned towards Ron and held out her hands. There was no recognition in her eyes.

"You are the Pure One, the keeper of the Grail." she said, "I am the Dryad. Give the Grail to me so that it may be returned to its proper place."

Unable to tear his eyes from her face, Ron fumbled in his pocket until he produced the Grail, golden and shining in the eerie green light. Voldemort gave a sudden hiss, quickly choked off. Ginny took the chalice, turned and moved across the grass towards Harry, almost as if she were gliding.

"Harry," she said, and her voice had taken on an extra resonance that cut through the sudden silence like a knife. "You are the Living Boy. You must join with the Dryad now, through the Grail."

Harry understood none of this. Nothing that was happening now made any sense to him, despite his long association with arcane magical practices and occurrences. Nevertheless, in blind faith, he moved towards the creature that was Ginny and placed his hands over hers, grasping the cup securely. Just as before, in the temple, he felt a sudden surge of power stab through his mind. Ginny was there with him, part of him, merged in a unity of consciousness which this time knew no barriers, no obstacles, merely the love and trust of two generous souls whose faith was only equalled by their bravery.

Ginny, what's happening?

I wish I knew! All I know is that I'm following instructions.

What instructions? Who from?

Again, I don't know. Harry, look at the Grail!

In response to the mental instruction, Harry focussed back on the outside world and saw the golden cup begin to glow with an inner light. As he watched, the radiance increased, spiralling out towards the surrounding Deatheaters. Paralysed, they gazed curiously at the light then howled in agony as it touched them. A wash of brilliance sent the gang reeling back, hands over their eyes. All except Harry and Ginny who stood motionless, holding the Grail firmly between them.

Squinting against the glare, Ron could just discern something taking shape. Its outlines were human, but it seemed to consist entirely of a pearly opalescence. Its robes were pure white, not wizard robes but something resembling the flowing drapery worn by the ancient Greeks. There was a deafening silence then the figure spoke in a clear, silvery voice, curiously androgenous:

"I am a Lord of the High Magic, remote from the affairs of your plane. The pursuits of good and evil are not my concern, yet once I lived among you and for this reason, and for the sake of the artefact you bear, I have answered your call for help.

"You face great danger to your immortal souls in this place, but you undertook the burden freely for the sake of the love you bear each other, and to save your world from mortal peril. For these things I honour you, and also the one of your number who has been struck down in her earthly body.

"The one who seeks to harm you is no longer part of your world and his attempts to pass between planes are illegal and cannot be tolerated. However, his destruction would threaten the eternal balance and equally cannot be contemplated. Therefore I shall return you to your own plane with the assurance that you will no longer be threatened by your enemy at any time during the remainder of your natural lives."

"What?" stuttered Harry. "You mean Voldemort will still be alive?"

"If the existence he holds at present can be so described, yes." the figure replied equably. "You have done as much as you are able, but his ultimate destruction lies in another future at other hands. However, I will banish him to a far plane where his destructive power will serve him not at all in the business of survival. Farewell my children: may your lives be long and may happiness stay with you always."

The light grew more and more intense until, shielding their tear-filled eyes with their hands, each of those left fell away into merciful darkness.

Then there was total silence, broken only by the distant sound of birdsong: dawn had come at last.

**********************************************

Harry awoke instantly, all in one moment, and sat up suddenly, staring. The first thing he saw was Ginny, hovering anxiously over him. As she saw him stir, she spoke over her shoulder to someone out of Harry's field of vision.

"George! George, he's alive and awake, thank Merlin!"

The grinning figure of George Weasley appeared and grasped Harry's hand, pulling him bodily to his feet. Harry thought he must be hallucinating as the same face seemed to be sporting an identical grin over Ginny's shoulder, but to his delight he realised it was Fred. Almost simultaneously, he heard a shout of wonder and disbelief and turned to see Ron, his eyes overflowing with tears of astonishment and gratitude, holding tightly to the hand of a bleary-eyed and rather confused Hermione! Harry looked around him, expecting to see open sky, grass and the huge standing monoliths of the great monument known as Stonehenge. Instead he realised that he and the others were back inside the West Room at Harry's House, and sunlight was pouring in through the windows.

"Well, well, well!" he murmured quietly, the beginnings of a smile creasing his face. Ron, still clutching Hermione's hand as though he expected her to suddenly disappear, brought her over to Harry, his face childlike with wonder.

"Harry, she's alive," he said, unnecessarily. "How? What happened here?"

"Of course I'm alive!" retorted Hermione, impatiently. "What on earth are you wittering on about, Ron?" Harry shook his head, his smile rapidly becoming a grin.

"The High Magic." he replied. "Who knows what motivates it, or even what it is? But it saved us this time. And it was all down to you, Ginny." The red-haired girl stared at him with wide eyes.

"Me?" she squeaked. "But I didn't - I mean, I don't remember - "

"You called the High Magic, sister mine!" George told her, enveloping her in a bear hug, "I really didn't know you had it in you, but you were the Dryad the prophecy spoke of."

"Yeah, and Ron really was the Pure One, despite all the jibes from you two."

It was Lee speaking to the Weasley twins, who at least had the grace to look slightly abashed. Harry turned to face his friends.

"Last night," Harry began thoughtfully, "if indeed it was last night, I banished Voldemort and his minions from this room. The Invocation I used was a very old one, taught to me by Albus Dumbledore shortly before he died. He told me never to use it except in the direst circumstances, when my very soul was in danger of destruction." Harry wandered over to the window and looked out into the morning.

"Albus didn't explain why he was teaching it to me, or even what the spell would accomplish," Harry continued, "but I believe its power transported us out of this house, out of this world, onto another plane of existence, where we could call upon higher assistance to save both ourselves and our world." He shook his head in wonder.

"Albus knew I would be fighting for my life, without his help." Harry looked at the others in bewilderment. "Did he foresee this very situation, do you think? I know he was many things, but I never heard him described as a Seer."

Ginny stared at Harry, her eyes enormous, her hand over her mouth.

"The Lord of the High Magic, who helped us. Do you think - was it - Dumbledore? He said he had once lived among us ..." Her voice trailed off in awe.

"He said he would return us to our own dimension too," said Ron, breathlessly. "He must have been responsible for bringing Hermione back."

"I don't believe Hermione ever really died in this world," replied Harry, thoughtfully. "I think my spell took her beyond the reach of the Avada curse just in time, but prevented her from accompanying us any further, leaving her in some kind of - limbo, if you like."

"Of course I didn't die, Harry!" Hermione retorted. "What is this fixation you all seem to have with my death?"

"The Lord also said he would banish Voldemort to a far less friendly world than you sent him to, Harry." added George, ignoring Hermione's outburst.

"I hope he keeps his word!" growled Lee.

"Look, I'm a bit confused." Hermione interrupted in a protesting voice. "I seem to have missed out on something here - more like several somethings actually, and Ron won't let go of my hand. He says he's afraid I'll die on him again!"

The others laughed.

"Go on, Ron, take her away and tell her all about it." George said, patting Ron on the arm.

"And don't come back until you're married - or at least engaged!" shouted Fred after their retreating backs. Harry snuck a quick look at Ginny, but she wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

"Hey!" shouted Lee from a far corner of the room. "Look at this. I mean, is this thing supposed to still be here?"

He pointed to something standing quietly on its own, nearly touching the wall, just as bright and golden as it had been when Ron had taken it out of the temple.

"The Holy Grail," whispered George reverently. Harry said nothing, merely walked over to it and picked it up without hesitation.

"The power," he said, faintly, "has gone out of it, I think. At least for the time being." He smiled and looked round at the others.

"I think this had better become the property of the Ministry; for now at any rate," he decided. "Anyone mind if I'm credited with its discovery?"

Grinning like a maniac, Harry promptly ducked and ran from the West Room as Fred, George, Lee and Ginny followed him, pelting him over the head with pillows.

FINIS ...