Year 7-26: The Balance of Power

The conference room was far more crowded than the last time Harry stepped foot in it less than twenty-four hours ago. He suspected Expansion Charms were in effect, as nearly fifty people were crammed around a table fit to seat a third of that number. An emergency meeting had been called, and despite the ungodly hour, everyone wanted to attend and figure out what was going on.

Everyone from the Potter clan was present, along with all the other key players of the resistance: Sebastian and his French commanders; Krum and his Eastern European allies; Cedric, Tonks and the other former Aurors; the Weasley family; and several other Brits who had been shoved out of government over the past year. Amos Diggory was among the last to arrive, hobbling in on his makeshift cane.

"It's three o' clock in the bloody morning," he complained loudly as he sank into the chair Cedric had been saving for him. "Why couldn't we do this after sunrise, like civilized folk?"

James stood to address the room from his seat. "I have some critical news that requires urgent attention," he said. "Neville Longbottom has been captured by Lord Voldemort. He will be executed before a public crowd this evening, on the grounds of Hogwarts."

That set off a rapid flurry of shocked whispers around the room. Many appeared dismayed by the news, particularly the British members...Harry knew just how much of a symbol of hope Neville had become for them over the past year.

"It must be part of his plan," someone chimed in. "Something to do with his powers to defeat You-Know-Who. He's been preparing for this all year, hasn't he?"

Others around the table nodded in fervent agreement – clearly the belief in Neville as Britain's savior was more wide-spread than Harry realized. Many eyes turned to Ron and Hermione, who could only squirm uncomfortably at this naive remark.

"We don't believe that to be the case," said James. "But it doesn't really matter. This will be a rare opportunity for us to strike, as Voldemort will be out in the open and exposed to an attack."

"How do we know for certain the execution is taking place there?" asked Cedric.

"Headmaster Severus Snape has been acting as a double agent for us over the past few years," said James, setting off a series of disgruntled murmurs around the room. "He passed along the information to my son Harry, with the intention of disrupting his master's plans."

"That's rich," scoffed Bill Weasley. "One Death Eater sharing information with another Death Eater, and we're meant to take it at face value?"

"Watch it, Bill," Fred Weasley growled at his brother. But Bill was glaring daggers at Harry from across the table – all of his memories with Harry had been erased, so he still bore plenty of suspicion against the teen. And considering Harry and Fleur were a known item now, he had twice as much reason to be resentful.

"If anyone here still suspects me to be working on Voldemort's behalf, speak up now," said Harry, standing to his feet. "I'd rather cut my own arm off rather than serve him any longer...and for the record, I already did."

He rolled up his sleeve and showed off his newly-grown arm as evidence, drawing many curious eyes. Several people scowled at him, particularly among the Brits present, but nobody spoke against him.

"Bill has a point, though," said Hestia Jones from among Cedric's camp. "How do we know Snape isn't leading us into a trap? Doesn't he control the school wards? Could he manipulate them to put us at a disadvantage?"

"I have access to the school wards now," said Harry. "I will be able to alter them and give us whatever advantage we need going into the battle."

"So we are meant to trust the judgment of a sixteen-year-old twerp to keep our fighters safe?" Amos scoffed. "I don't like it."

I'm seventeen, actually, Harry thought irritably, but he held his tongue.

"Like it or not, this is our best opportunity to confront Voldemort and finish him off for good," said James. "We've all been brainstorming ways to draw him out of hiding for the past few weeks, and finally we have our opening. Does anyone object to this plan?"

Nobody spoke up. Clearly the distrust of the Potters ran deep, based on the suspicious glances being thrown their way, but the desire to finish off Voldemort for good clearly outweighed that resentment.

"Good," said James. "Now, we have a number of challenges in making this plan work—"

"Hold on just a moment there, Potter," Amos sneered. "I don't remember putting you in charge of anything. In fact, I don't think we've ever settled on a single commander to lead our troops." Several grumbled in agreement with this sentiment.

"Very well," said James, clearing his throat. "I will humbly put my name forward as a candidate, as I believe I have the leadership and combat experience necessary to win this war."

This caused a great deal of consternation around the room. "After running this country into the ground?" somebody protested. "Over my dead body!"

"What if he's still compromised?"

"He'll just sell us out to You-Know-Who again!"

Amos Diggory capitalized on the moment by climbing to his feet. "I too will put my name forward," he announced proudly. "I have served this country faithfully on the Wizengamot for two decades, and refused to bend the knee for evil, even when threatened to do so. Unlike some people here, I lost my limbs against my will, not out of a performative desire to right my past wrongs!"

Several people clapped at this declaration. Harry winced at the thinly-veiled insult, noting the many nasty glances being thrown his way.

"With respect, Monsieur," Sebastian spoke up. "'Ow do you intend to command troops in battle if you yourself cannot fight?"

"I can draw up a winning strategy just fine from here," Amos said confidently. "War needs great minds in addition to talented wands."

"But how can you give orders while sitting in a warehouse hundreds of miles from the battle?" Sirius demanded.

"That's what my second-in-command is for!" said Amos, clapping an uncomfortable-looking Cedric on the shoulder. "My boy's been on the front lines for years now...he'll be my eyes and ears out on the fields of battle!"

Many among the British contingent nodded in agreement with this plan. Harry saw James glance at Dale Greengrass, who could only shrug forlornly...the Diggory's were popular within the resistance, and clearly the Potter clan had been unable to rally votes against anyone else.

"Why create a middle-man, then?" Harry asked. "Why doesn't Cedric take command of the army directly?"

All eyes turned to Cedric, who looked stricken by the plan. "Me?" he said. "I mean...I have fighting experience, but my father has been a leader in the community for far longer than I have—"

"Don't sell yourself short, mate," said Ron. "You were Head Boy and Quidditch Captain at Hogwarts, and everyone respects you. I'd happily follow you into battle."

Many around the room nodded in begrudging agreement with this plan. Harry noted that many of the foreign delegates also seemed amenable to the plan...unlike Amos, who was abrasive and distrusted by the non-British resistance members, Cedric was generally well-liked by everybody.

"Let's put it to a vote, then," said James. "All those in favor of Cedric Diggory taking command of the resistance and its fighters?"

Slowly, hands began to raise around the room. There was some hesitation among the Brits, looking to Amos for guidance. But as soon as Amos raised his hand in support of his son, everyone else fell into line.

"And those opposed?"

All the hands went down. Cedric had a clear majority, and nobody wanted to stand out by voicing their opposition now.

"It is decided, then," said Sebastian, clapping his hands decisively. "Mr. Diggory, what do you propose?"

Cedric nervously stood and cleared his throat. "First, we will need to find a way to access the school grounds," he said. "Hogsmeade would be an ideal staging ground, but we do not know if the school gates will grant us entrance."

"I'll make sure that they do," said Harry. "I can lower the wards to make sure everyone can get in when the time comes."

Cedric nodded appreciatively to Harry. Amos, however, looked less sure.

"Why not alter the wards to let us Apparate directly into the castle?" Amos suggested. "That would give us a fortified base of operations to work from."

"That would endanger the students still in the castle when the battle begins," Remus pointed out. "They will be caught in the crossfire with nowhere to run."

"So you would have them take shelter within the castle instead?" demanded another British delegate. "Where You-Know-Who can hold them hostage?"

"I can give them ways to Portkey or Apparate away from the castle," said Harry. "We can send them here, so they are far from the action."

"That would also allow us to set up a triage area away from the battlefield," James mused. "We can also send injured fighters out through the castle and into the warehouse."

"And allow enemy fighters to infiltrate our own base of operations?" Amos scoffed. "Utter madness!"

"Not if we plant some of our people within the castle ahead of the battle," said Harry. "They can protect the students and prevent any of Voldemort's people from using the castle as a fortress of their own."

"Sounds like a job for us," said George Weasley, indicating himself and Fred. "We know all the ins and outs of that castle by heart."

"I'll volunteer for that job," Ron jumped in. Several others voiced their support for this plan as well.

"We won't have to worry about a breach if we just infiltrate the castle ourselves!" Amos protested. "I care about the students' lives as much as anybody, but if it comes to winning a war, we might just have to take our chances. Besides, You-Know-Who doesn't want to harm them, so we could use them as shields!"

Several people around the room took offense to this plan, particularly those who still had children in attendance at Hogwarts. Quiet bickering broke out between the two opposing sides, until eventually Tonks stood from her seat and whistled loudly to call for order.

"Cedric, it's your decision," she said. "What's our plan of attack?"

Cedric looked uncomfortable under the expectant eyes of the entire room. He glanced from his father, to Harry, back to his father, who was eyeing his son intensely. It dawned on Harry that Cedric was not actually nervous about making a tough decision...he was worried about defying his father's wishes.

"I favor attacking from Hogsmeade," he eventually sighed. "Fred, George, I'm deputizing you to form a small team to secure the castle before the battle. Evacuating the students should be a high priority."

Fred and George nodded eagerly in agreement. Amos looked displeased at his plan being usurped, but he said nothing, merely grumbling quietly in his seat. Harry met Cedric's eye and gave him a grateful nod...he knew Cedric to be a decent and reasonable man, and was glad to know he would not just parrot whatever his father wanted.

"I have a question," another voice spoke up. A British man stood to his feet to speak; Harry recognized him as Ramesh Patil, a former Wizengamot member and father to Parvati and Padma. "Even if we manage to surprise You-Know-Who with our attack, how are we meant to kill him? Nobody but Albus Dumbledore was ever strong enough to face him in combat."

"We will have to overwhelm him," said James. "One person alone can't take him, but multiple people at once might be able to. We can assemble a small group of our most talented fighters, whose only goal is to engage Voldemort as a group before he can escape."

"So the rest of us are just meant to be your pawns then, eh, Potter?" Amos Diggory scoffed. "You send us to our deaths so you and your cronies can swoop in and save the day, taking all the credit for yourself?"

"Dad, calm down," Cedric muttered to his father.

"No, Ced, I won't calm down!" Amos spat. "I won't let this charlatan get away with bankrupting this country's future, then act the hero when it is convenient for him to turn on his old master!"

"See reason, Amos," James sighed tiredly – clearly this was not the first time the two had argued in recent weeks. "You know full well I was acting under duress. I had no choice but to do Voldemort's bidding, to protect as many people as I could from immediate harm."

"Save it for the tribunals, Potter," Amos spat discontentedly. "I for one won't take orders from a war criminal."

"You shut your mouth, Diggory," Ron spat, standing to point accusingly at Amos. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Ronald, you can't speak to Mr. Diggory that way!" Arthur admonished his son.

"Like hell I can't!" Ron scoffed. "It's easy for him to talk about sacrifices and loss of life – he won't even be fighting in the war!"

"Not by choice, foolish boy," Amos snarled, waving his prosthetic leg and arm at Ron. "I spent the last year in a dungeon, being tortured for having the courage and conviction to stand up for what's right!"

"And who do you have to thank for getting you out?" Harry demanded, also getting to his feet. "You've been nothing but ungrateful for your sudden reversal of fortune."

"We wouldn't be in this position to begin with if you hadn't murdered Albus Dumbledore!" said Molly Weasley, pointing a trembling finger at Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but an unexpected voice spoke up in his defense: "Oi! Leave Harry alone!"

He turned towards the source of the interruption, as did Molly and those around her. Ginny Weasley had risen to her own feet, glaring angrily not at Harry, but at her own mother.

"How can you defend him, Ginevra?" Molly groaned. "After the hell he put you through at Hogwarts for the past year?"

"He's the only reason I got out unscathed!" Ginny said hotly. "The Carrows would have done things ten times worse if it wasn't for Harry. So lay off him, will you?"

Molly was gobsmacked by the harsh rebuke from her own daughter – as was Harry. He had not expected her support after the tension between them at Hogwarts for the past year. Molly looked to the rest of her family for support, but Ron was clearly on Ginny's side, and Fred and George appeared to be, too. She eventually shrank back into her seat and fell silent.

"Perhaps we should all calm down," Viktor Krum spoke up, the fresh voice succeeding in lowering the temperature in the room. "We haff less than eighteen hours to come up with an attack plan. I propose we break up into groups and prepare for our assigned roles accordingly." Everyone nodded in agreement.

Cedric began going around the room, assigning jobs to the various resistance members in attendance. Alessia volunteered to run the triage station in the warehouse; Sebastian and Viktor were put in charge of organizing command units among the fighters; Fleur offered to help create Portkeys to get the students out of the castle; Angelina Johnson took charge of a flying division of broomstick riders; and Amos took it upon himself to draw up battle schematics for the entire army, looking quite pleased with himself for doing so. Amos was less pleased when Cedric gave James autonomy to put together a 'Voldemort task force' to challenge the Dark Lord directly, but fortunately he did not comment.

The meeting disbanded soon after, as the room dispersed across the warehouse to begin their preparations. Fred and George approached Harry at once, beckoning him into a smaller side room to talk.

"A little birdie told us you have a way in and out of the castle," said Fred.

"Yeah, I do," said Harry. "And I know where the school rune stones are located. Want to come with me and give them a look?"

"By all means," said George. "But are you sure it's safe? What if the place is crawling with Death Eaters?"

"Let's find out," said Harry. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the Marauder's Map, whispering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The Map came to life, showing the castle in its entirety. It was quiet, being that it was still pre-dawn...only a small handful of staff were awake, as the students all slept in their dorms.

"Whoa!" Fred breathed, looking at the map over Harry's shoulder. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Did you make this?" asked George, marveling at the labeled dots moving around the map. "This is mental!"

"My dad and his friends made it, actually," Harry chuckled. He'd completely forgotten that the Weasley twins never possessed the Marauder's Map in this timeline. It was Harry who had stolen it from the caretaker's office, not them. Now he got to return the favor, after they had shared it with him in his original timeline.

"Well, no sign of ol' Moldyshorts, so that's good," Fred remarked, scanning the Map's contents. "And no Death Eaters besides the obvious...urgh, the Carrow siblings share a bedroom? I always thought they were funny in the head."

"You two also used to share a bedroom," Harry quipped, drawing mirthful raised eyebrows from the twins. "Should I be concerned about what went on in there?"

"Har, har," George scoffed, putting Harry in a playful headlock. "C'mon, Potter, let's go storm the castle."

Harry and the twins borrowed broomsticks from the warehouse's storeroom and shrank them in their pockets before preparing for their journey. As a precaution, Harry had the twins Disillusion themselves, then threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself. They linked arms and Apparated to the alcove near Snape's office; a moment later, they were stealing through the empty corridors towards the back exit.

"Never thought we'd be back here sneaking around, eh, Georgie?" Fred whispered.

"Never thought I'd be this scared doing it," George chuckled. "Strange, because we're practically professionals at it."

"The stakes are much higher now," Harry pointed out. "If we get caught, we'll get much worse than a detention." That sobered the group up, continuing their journey in silence.

The trio slipped out the back door of the castle into the courtyard. Harry pulled out his broom and unshrunk it, as the twins did the same; they kicked off from the ground and soared down over the steps to the boathouse and the lake beyond. They flew low over the lake in the moonlight, skimming the placid waters as Harry led them to the crevasse in the rock wall that he knew housed the school wards.

They landed on a rocky outcropping at the entrance to the narrow passage leading into the wall. Harry lit his wand and led the way forward; eventually they reached the enclosed area that contained the rune stones, hundreds of which glowed all around them.

"Blimey," Fred whistled. "We always wondered how the school wards worked...this place must be a thousand years old."

"Wish we hadn't skived off Ancient Runes, eh, Freddie?" George grinned. "We're out of our depth here, Potter."

Harry felt the thrum of magic in the air, the complex symphony of interlocking enchantments he could not decode. But luckily, Snape had given him the key. "Carpe lilium," he whispered.

At once, a rush of magic accepted him, and the wards responded in kind, seemingly untangling themselves for him to decipher. Suddenly he had an intimate understanding of what each rune stone did, and what he could do to alter their properties. It was like viewing the blueprints to the most complex building ever designed, with the ability to change the floor plan as he desired.

"What are you thinking?" asked Fred. "Lower the transportation wards to let folks in and out?"

"Too risky," said Harry. "We don't want to give Voldemort any opportunities to flee, and we can't have enemies popping into the castle at will. But I can open a few loopholes in the wards to let the students out."

"Where?" George asked. "That alcove seems a bit too small to funnel hundreds of kids through."

Harry considered this, studying the various options at his disposal in the wards. "The common rooms," he decided. "That's where they'll naturally flock to once the fighting starts, to take shelter. We open a space in each one for Portkeys to take them out of the castle."

"That's sensible," Fred shrugged. "Shame for the lions and birdies, though...hope they've been exercising to make it to their towers in time."

"We'll have our own people in place to help guide them," said Harry. "I figure ten to fifteen minutes should be enough to get them all to safety. Then we can focus on the battle itself."

"We should have volunteers at each common room to help them get out, then," George mused. "We can help the Gryffindors, but we'll need a Puff, a Claw, and a Snake to assist the others."

"I'm sure Ron and Hermione would volunteer to help," said Harry. "Hopefully we can find a Slytherin the students would trust...maybe Andromeda or one of the Greengrasses."

Harry began to alter the wards as he spoke. The rune stones flared to life one by one as he opened up pockets of un-warded space in each of the four common rooms. The students wouldn't notice a thing, and it could easily be reversed later, but it might prove critical to saving hundreds of young lives.

"Any other changes you can think of?" asked Fred.

"I'll have to come back and open the gates to Hogsmeade for our army to get into the grounds," said Harry. "I should probably close the loophole in the alcove before the battle starts as well – Voldemort himself knows about that one."

"Wouldn't want him sneaking up behind us," George agreed with a shiver. "What else?"

Harry thought for a moment longer if there were any other alterations he wanted to make. An idea struck him, and he made one final change, causing several rune stones to glow bright red before fading.

"What did that one do?" asked Fred.

"Anti-Dark Mark detectors," said Harry. "I added one to each entrance of the castle. So none of Voldemort's inner circle can get in from the grounds."

"Clever," George whistled. "Poor Amycus and Alecto won't be able to hide under the covers of their shared bed once the fighting starts."

"It won't stop the rest of Voldemort's army, though," said Harry. "Most of his recruits don't have the Mark. But it's something, at least."

Harry stepped away from the rune stones, surveying his handiwork. It was a crazy plan, but it just might work. Voldemort would mostly be preoccupied with fighting the larger army invading from the south – he would not be so focused on the castle itself. And once the students were evacuated, it would allow Harry to join the fight from the back lines – with luck, he could engage Voldemort directly before the fighting got too severe.

And before Neville is killed.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the surface of the lake when Harry, Fred and George emerged from the crevasse, bringing fresh dawn to the grounds. They flew up to the castle and snuck back to the alcove to Apparate back to the warehouse. When they arrived, they found it a bustle of activity; the fighters had awoken in the barracks, and were training in earnest, preparing hard for the battle to come.

Fred and George left to begin recruiting for the castle operation, as Harry searched for his family. He found James and Lily speaking with Cedric and Tonks near the conference room.

"The school wards are almost complete," said Harry. And he explained his plan to them, including opening the way from Hogsmeade and letting the students escape through the common rooms.

"That's a solid plan," Tonks mused. "But how are we going to ensure the students return to the castle, instead of scattering across the grounds?"

"I'll be with them when the fighting starts," said Harry. "Beneath the Invisibility Cloak. I can shepherd them inside and make sure they don't run into danger."

James scrutinized Harry at this. "And then what will you do?" he asked. "Once the students are safe?"

"Fight," Harry shrugged. "Isn't that what we're there to do?"

"I don't like knowing that you'll be separated from us, dear," Lily fretted. "We'll be with the Hogsmeade team, fighting our way onto the grounds."

"The castle will be a safer place for Harry than the front lines," James reasoned. "As long as he sticks to the outskirts of the battle until he finds us – then we can seek out Voldemort together."

He gave Harry a stern glance at this, telling him it was not just a suggestion. Harry nodded his agreement, though he was unsure how far from the fighting he'd be able to remain for long. He still hoped to rescue Neville if the opportunity arose, and for that to happen, he'd have to be quite close to Voldemort when the battle broke out. But he would not share this sub-goal with his parents just yet.

Harry spent much of the morning checking in with the various groups and filling them in on the plan. Most groups regarded him neutrally, focused on their own goals, but some continued to leer at him suspiciously, as though suspecting foul play. He hoped they would not go rogue and disregard his plans out of some mistaken idea that he remained compromised to Voldemort. The last thing the resistance needed was to distrust one another, as unity would be key to banding together and winning this war.

As he made his rounds, a familiar voice addressed him, one he had not heard in nearly a year: "Oi, Potter! I hear you're in need of a Slytherin's services?"

Harry turned, a broad smile crossing his face as he saw who was approaching him. "Mark!" he exclaimed, rushing forward to wrap him in a hug. "Blimey, it's been ages! How have you been?"

"Fine, thanks to you," Mark Davis grinned. "A few more bumps and scratches than before, but hey, makes me more appealing to the ladies, don't you think?"

Harry chuckled appreciatively at the quip. The last time he'd seen Mark, he was bleeding to death from a Fenrir Greyback mauling during last year's Hogwarts invasion. The stocky young man bore some nasty-looking scars along the right side of his face and neck, but otherwise, he appeared no worse for wear.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. "You've joined the resistance?"

"Yup," said Mark. "Was working at my father's shop in Diagon Alley for a while after graduation, until it got raided by Death Eater arseholes a few months ago. Mum and Dad left for the continent, and I decided to approach the twins about volunteering."

"Huh," said Harry. "Well, we're glad to have you here."

"I heard what Amos Diggory has been saying about you," Mark muttered grimly. "That bastard's been bad-mouthing you and your whole family since he arrived. But I won't stand for it. I know you were never as evil as they made you out to be."

"I appreciate that, Mark," Harry chuckled awkwardly.

"But seriously," said Mark, leaning in close, "to hell with what the Diggory's want. If you have a different plan, I'm all ears."

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Harry. And he explained the student evacuation plan to Mark, and the need for a respected authority figure inside the Slytherin common room to get them to safety.

"I can do that," Mark nodded. "What about the students in the castle who sympathize with You-Know-Who? Are you concerned about them?"

Harry considered this for a moment...the thought hadn't crossed his mind. After all, Draco Malfoy was still at Hogwarts, along with his band of Dark sympathizers like Crabbe, Goyle and Nott. What if they decided to go rogue and turn the tables on the group within Hogwarts, thus compromising the castle?

"I'll keep an eye on them myself," said Harry. "Just be wary of the Slytherin students who might be problematic. You know them better than I do, I reckon."

"I'll keep an eye out," Mark nodded. "That lot can be unruly, but they'll listen to reason, I hope. You'd be surprised how quickly people's true colors show when spellfire starts flying."

Harry hoped Mark was right. Despite his unpleasant interactions with the Slytherins throughout his time at Hogwarts, he knew most of the students were all bark and no bite. His last encounter with Pansy Parkinson was evidence enough...when faced with the realities of her bigoted worldview, she wilted under the pressure. Perhaps the other students would recognize the error in their ways as well.

He wandered his way over to the far corner of the warehouse, where was looked to be a miniature hospital was taking shape. Rows of beds were being erected, and shelves full of potions were being stocked. Dahlia had donned her white Healer robes as she assisted in the set-up process.

"Hey, moron," she greeted him. "Need patching up, or just feeling nostalgic for hospital beds after spending so much time in them?"

"Good one," Harry quipped. "Mum and Dad are letting you help out here?"

"Yep," said Dahlia. "They don't want me anywhere near Hogwarts once the fighting starts, but they're letting me volunteer here with Alessia to help injured fighters coming through."

"That's good," said Harry, though he noticed a slight irritation in his sister's expression. "You don't seem thrilled about this plan."

"What about all the fighters who can't make it to the Apparation point?" Dahlia groaned. "There will be loads of people who need help before they can make it here. Dozens, if not hundreds could die if we don't have Healers on-site to help them."

"I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be on the scene assisting those who need immediate help," Harry reasoned. "And we'll have people dedicated to transporting injured fighters to the Apparation point."

"Even so," Dahlia frowned. "I hate having to be here, wondering if you are all okay, and not knowing for sure until it's all over."

"We'll look out for each other, I promise," said Harry, pulling her in for a hug. "And if I do die, I'll make sure my ghost haunts you so you know right away."

"Don't joke about that," Dahlia reprimanded him, smacking him on the arm for the quip.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. It was probably in poor taste to make light of death at a time like this, considering the battle could very well result in their entire family being slaughtered.

The rest of the day passed very quickly, as rapid preparations were made for the coming battle. Harry drifted between groups, checking on progress and determining where everyone he cared about would be situated during the fight. He felt a bit like a ghost, drifting from place to place, not quite fitting in anywhere. Most of the British contingent still regarded him with suspicion, while the foreigners viewed him as a sort of curio...they knew he was to be trusted thanks to Sebastian Delacour and Viktor Krum vouching for him, but kept him at a respectful distance all the same.

"You should get some rest," Fleur suggested as they crossed paths later that afternoon. "You 'ave not slept in ages."

"Wouldn't be able to sleep if I tried," Harry shrugged. "Too much going on. Too much to worry about."

"At least stop pacing like a madman," she groaned. "You are making people uneasy."

That was likely true. Harry felt jittery, and his frantic energy was no doubt rubbing off on the others, contributing to his feeling of isolation.

So he forced himself to sit in the mess hall and get some nourishment before the battle came. He watched people pass by, laughing and joking, wondering how many would survive the bout. How many people that he loved would lose their lives? How many funerals would he have to attend once this was all over – if he even made it out himself? The thought made his stomach squirm, so he forced it from his mind.

As he ate, one passer-by in particular caught his eye. "Oi! Dursley!" he called out. "Get over here!"

A sheepish Damian Dursley slunk over to his table. "Hey, cousin," he greeted. "What's up?"

"What are you still doing here?" Harry demanded. "You should be in the States by now!"

"I know, I know, I'm going," Damian huffed. "But you can't blame me for wanting to know what's going on, can you?"

"You'd better be staying out of everyone's way, at least," said Harry. "We need to focus on our tasks."

"Of course, of course," Damian said evasively. Harry doubted this to be true – he'd seen Damian hanging around Angelina Johnson and the other former Hogwarts Quidditch players, and hoped he was not proving to be a distraction for them.

"You still have your Portkey my dad gave you, at least?" asked Harry.

"Right here," said Damian, procuring a small whistle hanging from a chain around his neck. "I'll get out of here before the battle starts, promise."

"You'd better," Harry groaned. Damian slipped away soon after, back in the direction of the equipment station. Harry hoped the teen would not try something foolish by joining the fight, even though he himself would probably do the same at his age.

Soon – far too soon – it came time for final preparations. Every sub-group had formulated their plans, and now came together at the center of the warehouse for a last send-off. Harry made his way towards the front of the pack as Cedric took to a makeshift stage to address the room.

"You've all done a remarkable job at coming up with a plan on such short notice," Cedric appraised them all. "Tonight is going to be difficult for all of us, but if we execute our plans and work together, we can win this war in one fell swoop."

Cheers and applause met this statement. Harry hoped the enthusiasm and energy would continue once the spellfire began raining down...battlefields tended to be far less glamorous than they were made out to be ahead of time.

"We've sent out a few scouts to gather intel ahead of time," said Cedric. "Dora, what were you able to learn?"

Tonks stepped up to address the room. "I snooped around The Daily Prophet offices this morning," she said. "They received an invitation from the Minister for a 'special event' at Hogwarts. Their reporters were simply told to arrive on the front lawn by no later than seven-thirty P.M."

"That's when the execution will be held, then," Cedric deduced. "I suspect they will let the students eat dinner first before forcing them to attend as well."

"So we attack at seven-thirty, then," Amos said decisively.

"Er…" Cedric stammered. "What if the timing is slightly off? What if the event runs late? We'll be blind to what's happening on the grounds from Hogsmeade."

"One of us in the castle could send a signal for when it's time," Fred Weasley suggested.

"Leave it to me," said Harry. "I'll create a diversion. Something you'll be able to see from Hogsmeade. That will be your signal."

"Why a diversion?" Cedric frowned.

"To give the students time to escape," Harry replied. And possibly Neville, he left unsaid. He hadn't shared that part of his plan with anyone yet, and wouldn't if he could get away with it.

"I don't like it," Amos frowned. "Better early than late, I always say. We must strike before You-Know-Who can get comfortable!"

"What if the battle starts before he even arrives?" Harry retorted. "Then all of this will be for nothing!"

"Forgive me for not placing the fate of the wizarding world in the hands of a child," Amos scoffed. "The grown-ups are talking, Potter; why don't you let us handle this one?"

"Enough!" Cedric groaned, massaging his temple. He was clearly uncomfortably being caught in between the two arguing factions. "A diversion is a good idea, Harry. Student safety is important, and the timing could be critical."

"I'm just saying," Amos grumbled unhappily. "If we wait too long, we'll risk a counter-attack."

"Then we will play things by ear if the timing feels off," said Cedric diplomatically. "Let's move on."

Cedric went around to the various squadron heads to check on their progress. Harry listened intently, and was pleased to hear how prepared and organized everyone was. There was a bit of friction between some of the members, particularly between the British and foreign fighters, but hopefully they would be united by a common enemy once the fighting began.

"Injured fighters should head into the castle for treatment," said Cedric. "And that should cover everything. Anyone else have something to say?"

"If you see one of Voldemort's inner circle, kill them," Harry piped up. "Even if they surrender. The time for non-lethal force is long past."

"That's a war crime, Potter!" Amos Diggory protested. "You can't order people to kill defenseless fighters like that!"

"If you won't kill them, at least cut off their left arm," said Harry. "Their Dark Marks are linked to Voldemort, and act as power reserves for his magic. The more Death Eaters we kill or sever from his connection, the weaker he'll become." Fortunately, that seemed to hit home, as the gathered fighters murmured worriedly at this news.

"Best of luck, everyone," said Cedric. "Today will live on in history...let's make sure we're on the right side of it." The room exploded in cheers and chants at this. Cedric could be meek and soft-spoken at times, but he was undeniably respected by all. Harry could even see him being a popular Minister of Magic someday.

The room began to gather into Apparation groups to make the journey to Hogsmeade. Harry located Fleur at once and made his way over to her to say his goodbyes.

"You'll be on the front lines, then?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Fleur, sounding nervous for the first time. "I will be with your parents and ze other group tasked with fighting Voldemort. Once ze army clears a path for us, we will be engaging him directly."

"Be careful," said Harry. "I'll rejoin you as soon as I can."

Harry drew closer for a hug, but Fleur surprised him with a deep, impassioned kiss, one that elicited cheers and cat-calls from the surrounding fighters. When they broke apart, Harry could see the fear in her eyes, as the reality of the battle settled in.

"Come back to me," she whispered. "Whatever it takes."

"I will," Harry promised. Fleur nodded, then with seemingly great effort, tore herself away to rejoin her assigned group. Harry saw his parents nearby; they too approached for last good-byes.

"Please be careful, dear," said Lily, hugging her son tight.

"You, too, Mum," said Harry.

James came forward to embrace his son, holding him longer than expected. "I know what you're planning," he whispered in Harry's ear.

"Sorry?"

"You're going to try and rescue Neville," said James. "Don't deny it."

Harry said nothing. James knew his motives better than he let on.

"Just take care of yourself first and foremost," said James. "Losing you would destroy our family. Please don't do anything reckless."

"I'll try," said Harry.

James eventually pulled apart, giving him one last long, pained look before nodding and pulling away, joining his Lily with the rest of the departing party. The warehouse was filled with a series of loud pops as the fighters all Apparated or Portkeyed away, to the staging area in Hogsmeade.

Soon the cavernous space was eerily quiet. Only a handful remained behind: Dahlia, Alessia and a few other Healing volunteers, and the Hogwarts incursion party, which now compromised about three dozen people.

Fred and George were barking last-minute orders to the group. "Man your assigned stations for as long as you can," said Fred. "Ideally fifteen minutes or more. If you get overwhelmed, fall back to the secondary choke point and fire sparks to call for assistance."

"The four common room guides will be able to communicate with these," said George, holding up a small coin that Harry realized must have been inspired by his own resistance communication devices. "Once all your students are out of the castle, send word to the others, so we'll all know when it's safe to leave the castle and join the fight." Ron, Hermione, and Mark Davis – the other three common room guides – nodded their understanding.

"I'll be closing the entry point into the castle as soon as we're all through," said Harry. "From that moment on, it's exit only. So make up your mind fast on where you want to be once the fighting starts."

Fred and George handed out armfuls of Portkeys to the other guides, then made their way over to Harry. "Best have a peek at that magical Map of yours before we depart, eh?" George grinned.

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map and activated it. The three of them looked it over – as anticipated, the students were all congregated in the Great Hall for dinner. All else appeared normal, but on the edges of the map, Harry saw a frightening amount of ink near the Forbidden Forest. The dots were clustered so close together that it was difficult to make out any individual names.

"Voldemort's army," Harry deduced. "Snape wasn't joking about him making a show of force to the students and the press."

"Let's hope that's not all of them," George said grimly. He took the Map gently from Harry and scrutinized it. "Looks like there's nobody else in the castle we need to worry about...hold on, what's this?"

He pointed to another corner of the Map. Harry peered at it; Amycus and Alecto Carrow were not in the castle as expected. Their dots were situated near the Black Lake, in a spot far off the beaten path.

"Say, isn't that near where we were this morning?" Fred remarked. "By the rune stones that controlled the school wards?"

"Yeah, it is," Harry frowned. That was a concerning sign...what were they doing there? Did Voldemort suspect some kind of trap, and situated them there to protect the wards – or alter them in his favor?

"What are we gonna do about it?" George asked. "Should we send a squad with you to take them out?"

"No, I can handle them on my own," said Harry. "The plan remains the same for everyone else."

"Roger that," said George. He folded the Map and handed it back to Harry.

"Keep it," said Harry. "You lot will need it more than me once the battle begins. Use it to monitor the castle and see who needs help."

"You sure, mate?" asked Fred. "It belongs to your family, doesn't it?"

"You can return it once all of this is over," said Harry. "Besides, I owe it to the two of you in the first place."

"How do you reckon?" George frowned.

"Maybe I'll tell you one day," Harry grinned. Both twins looked puzzled by this cryptic response, but they did not comment further.

The task force then got together in preparation for the incursion. As planned, they amassed into smaller sub-groups, gathering in a circle around the pre-prepared Portkeys that would take them to the alcove inside Hogwarts. Harry joined Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and Mark Davis, all standing around a small enchanted cord of rope.

"Harry!" a voice called from behind him. Harry turned to see Dahlia rush up to him, looking worried; she threw her arms around him, trembling, as she was about to be left alone with the other Healers.

"I'll be alright," said Harry, patting her on the back for reassurance.

"Don't forget what you promised me," Dahlia whispered in his ear. And she pulled away, looking at him fearfully.

"I haven't," said Harry. He knew she was worried not just about her family, but Neville as well. He had told nobody of his plan to try and rescue the boy, but Dahlia seemed to understand it all the same. She nodded forlornly before returning to her station.

Harry turned back and placed his hand on the rope. Fred, consulting a pocket watch, counted down to its activation; at seven o' clock precisely, Harry felt the jerk behind his navel, yanking him through space and eventually placing him and the rest of the group inside the Hogwarts alcove. They shuffled out to secure the corridor; Harry threw up Privacy Wards on either end as the rest of the task force arrived, appearing in thirty-second intervals and spreading out through the hall.

"Less than thirty minutes until the fireworks begin," Fred announced. "Get to your assigned posts and secure the area without attracting notice. If you come across any students, direct them to the common rooms."

The group separated, spreading through the castle to attend to their duties. Harry threw on his Invisibility Cloak and headed for the exit. Once he reached the back courtyard, he unshrunk the broomstick from his pocket and mounted it, taking off down the hillside towards the lake.

Harry alighted as quietly as possible on the rocky outcropping, leaving his Disillusioned broom behind. He crept forward, footsteps muffled by Silencing Charms, wand at the ready. The Carrows were deeper within...were they guarding the rune stones? Did they anticipate an attack on the school wards? Would they have a trap prepared for the moment he showed himself?

But he quickly realized he was giving them too much credit. As he drew closer, he heard the sound of loud, bickering voices from deeper into the passage. The siblings appeared to be arguing about something. Harry quickened his pace, soon drawing near enough to hear what they were saying:

"...must 'ave misheard 'im!"

"You accusin' me of going deaf, you dumb cow? I 'eard the Headmaster perfectly well, thank you! The darned password just ain't workin'!"

"Then try it again, nimwit!"

"Well I was about to, wasn't I? Carpe maianthemum! CARPE MAIANTHEMUM!"

They're trying to activate the school wards, Harry thought. But why? And had Snape given them a false password?

He finally reached the small enclosure housing the rune stones, where the two Carrows were practically nose to nose, bickering furiously with one another. As expected, Amycus was jabbing his wand fruitlessly towards the wall, but it would not light up for him.

"That's it," Alecto huffed, rolling up her left sleeve. "I'm callin' the Dark Lord."

"No!" Amycus breathed, grabbing her hand before she could touch her Mark. "We're only meant to call 'im in case of emergency!"

"Well, this qualifies, don't it?" Alecto protested. "'E gave us an order to alter the wards, and we can't do it!"

"It's not life or death, woman!" Amycus huffed. "'E just wants to make a flashy entrance. We're s'posed to let him Apparate in and out from the front lawn, to spook the students some!"

"Are you gonna be the one to tell 'im we failed?" Alecto demanded. "Cuz I sure won't do it!"

"We'll blame it on the Headmaster," Amycus chuckled. "Severus is already in hot water with the boss...Rookwood reckons he's gonna get the axe soon, then we'll be the ones in charge of Hogwarts!"

Alecto's eyes alighted with glee at this prospect. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, let's pin it on 'im." And she rolled her sleeve back down, concealing the Dark Mark.

Which is precisely what Harry was waiting for.

"Avada Kedavra."

A green bolt of light erupted from the Elder Wand, and Alecto Carrow collapsed to the ground, dead. Amycus stared in shock for a moment, frozen...just long enough for Harry to train his wand on him next.

"Imperio."

Amycus' eyes went unfocused as Harry handily overpowered his mind. Harry sifted through his surface memories with Legilimency, but as expected, his thoughts were mostly dull and simplistic. Voldemort had ordered him to complete this one task, without giving him any further details.

"Send a message to your master," Harry ordered. "Tell him the wards have been updated to his satisfaction."

Amycus dutifully obeyed, rolling up his sleeve and pressing a finger to his Dark Mark. It glowed black for a moment against his pale skin, then faded again as the message was sent. A moment later, another green jet of light cut him down where he stood, and the Carrows were no more.

Harry stepped over the two bodies and into the enclosure without preamble. "Carpe lilium," he whispered. The wards flared to life all around him, and he immediately got to work. He removed the enchantments protecting the gate to Hogsmeade, and closed the loophole allowing Apparation to and from the alcove near Snape's office. He then did as Voldemort instructed the Carrows, by opening another hole in the wards to allow him to Apparate directly onto the grounds, just outside the great oak doors.

He can make his flashy entrance if he wants, Harry thought grimly. He'll be in for a rude surprise when he tries to Apparate back OUT, though…

His job complete, Harry levitated the Carrows out of the cavern and back towards the lake. He summoned heavy boulders and tethered them to each body via their ankles; then, he launched them out towards the center of the lake, where they splashed down and rapidly began to sink into the murky depths. Might as well feed the grindylows...that would be the most useful thing the Carrows ever did with their pathetic lives.

Harry checked his watch; it was just after seven-twenty. Less than ten minutes to go until the festivities began. He mounted his broom and took off again, heading not for the back entrance but around the turrets of the castle. He flew high in the dwindling light, still invisible, to survey the scene. He could see small fires lit throughout the Forbidden Forest as Voldemort's forces lay in wait; and off in the distance, Hogsmeade was a bustle of activity as the resistance fighters prepared to storm through the gates and onto the grounds. Battle was imminent, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

He swooped down low towards the front entrance, taking care to avoid the wide windows of the Great Hall. He alighted along the stone walls of the castle, crouching in a thicket of bushes to remain out of sight. The great oak doors were still shut, but in mere minutes, the students would be ushered outside to witness the presentation.

Over the coming minutes, new arrivals began to trickle into the area. A handful of reporters emerged from the castle, setting up near the front steps, looking confused as to why they had been summoned here. Dark-clad forces began to emerge from the Forbidden Forest – hundreds, if not thousands, standing in a line, forming an intimidating wall of evil. But still there was no sign of Voldemort, or Neville for that matter.

I thought they would be here by now, Harry thought, disappointed. He'd hoped for an opportunity to get to Neville before the students arrived, so that they would not be caught in the ensuing crossfire. But clearly Voldemort had a showy entrance in mind for the students, and would be the last to arrive. That would make Harry's task more difficult.

Finally, the oak doors opened, and students came spilling out onto the front lawn. Teachers herded them into neat rows, barking at them for silence; Harry noticed that the students were more unruly and insubordinate than usual, rebelling against their strictures. That attitude slowly faded once they noticed the vast army spread out before them, realizing this was not the appropriate time to act out.

From out of the Forest emerged a smaller number of black-clad fighters, these with dark hoods to distinguish themselves as Voldemort's inner circle of Death Eaters. Harry heard the reporters at the Daily Prophet gasp at the realization...they clearly had not known Voldemort was behind all of this. The students, on the other hand, appeared unfazed...they had figured out the truth long ago.

Snape emerged from the castle last, donning his own hood and joining the other Death Eaters in waiting. An uncomfortable silence fell as the sun began to dip below the horizon, and everyone waited for what would happen next. Nobody seemed to know where to look or what they were waiting for. Only Harry had an inkling of what was to come, and knew it would come as a shock to many.

Suddenly, a thick cloud of black smoke appeared before the students. From out of the darkness emerged Lord Voldemort, leering at everyone present. The students and reporters gasped in horror...even those who suspected the Dark Lord's involvement were frightened by his presence here.

And Voldemort had not come alone. He had a bound prisoner with him, a heavy hood over his head. Neville, Harry realized. Voldemort forced the teen roughly to his knees before addressing the gathered crowd.

"Students of Hogwarts," Voldemort announced in a booming voice to the terrified children, "you have been summoned here because you have failed to behave yourselves within Britain's new regime. You have repeatedly disrespected authority of your betters, especially two of your professors. Speaking of which, Severus, where are Amycus and Alecto?"

"Likely in the Hospital Wing, my Lord," Snape said coolly from Voldemort's left side. "Recovering from one of their many injuries inflicted by the students."

"Insubordinate fools!" Voldemort said angrily to the gathered students. The children flinched at this rebuke, as Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief at his lack of suspicion.

"Shall we teach them the true meaning of punishment, my Lord?" asked another Death Eater with glee. Harry recognized the voice of Gilderoy Lockhart, no longer maintaining appearances as the puppet Minister of Magic.

"They will not be the ones punished, Gilderoy," Voldemort sneered. "Only one will be punished today. And it's someone they know quite well."

Voldemort dramatically ripped the hood off of Neville's head, revealing him to the crowd. The boy looked ragged and defeated, staring glumly into the grass. The students screamed in horror at the sight of him – their promised savior, broken and beaten.

Harry took the momentary distraction to creep forward, stealing through the rows of students under the Invisibility Cloak. He had to get closer, to try and separate the boy from Voldemort before he met his end. But first, he had to warn a couple of people of what was to come.

"We are also graced with the presence of Britain's most respected journalists!" Voldemort announced, gesturing to the frightened reporters standing nearby. "Not to worry, dear fellows...you will not be harmed. In fact, you have an important job to do once you depart this place: you will announce to the world that the great Lord Voldemort has returned, and he has conquered Great Britain without a single drop of blood being spilled!"

As Voldemort continued his triumphant monologue, Harry crept around to the side of the throng of students, where the staff stood watch. He positioned himself directly behind Flitwick and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Professor Flitwick, it's Harry Potter," he said. "Don't react, but there is going to be a battle in a matter of minutes. The students will be in danger, and they must be protected and sent back into the castle. Can you help me?"

The diminutive professor yelped and leapt about three feet in the air, which would have attracted significant attention if not for the Privacy Wards Harry had erected around them. Flitwick trembled quietly for a moment, processing this information, before reluctantly nodding his understanding.

Harry made his way around to Professor McGonagall and repeated the message. To her credit, she did not jump or even seem surprised by his presence, merely nodding in agreement as well. However, he could tell from her subtle body language that she too was on-edge, with the looming threat of death and endangerment to her students overhead.

He hoped that the two professors would heed his warning and shepherd the students back inside as he suggested. Part of him feared that they continued to distrust him, much like Amos Diggory, and would assume some kind of nefarious trap awaiting them inside the castle. But he could only hope that they still saw the good in their once-star pupil, still believed he was not as evil as he was made out to be.

"As you can see, we are also joined by a selection of some of the world's finest fighters," said Voldemort, gesturing to the small army behind him at the treeline. "Just know that this is merely a fraction of our power, as we continue to recruit from abroad and grow our ranks. And you should recognize, students, that if you intend to rebel against my regime, you have no hope of victory. My forces outnumber yours a thousand to one, and soon, the entire globe will bend the knee to my might."

"We'll never bow to you!" someone yelled from the crowd of students. Others shouted in agreement, until Voldemort raised his wand and unleashed a deafening bang that silenced them.

"Then you will die!" Voldemort snarled. "You are but children now, and your magical blood is too precious to spill today. But soon you will enter society and be expected to comply. If you fail to do so, you will not be granted the same grace. No dissenters will be permitted to exist in my new world order. Is that understood?"

Harry could tell from the gathered students that this message did not go over well. But nobody was brave enough to speak out again, and silence fell on the grounds once more.

"Very good," Voldemort smiled. "Now, there is one matter we have left to attend to. For years, you have all been deluded into believing that a mere child could stand against the mighty Lord Voldemort. Here before you is your so-called 'Chosen One', Neville Longbottom. Does he look like a hero to you? Does he look like he can defeat me? Crucio!"

Neville screamed and fell to the grass, writhing in agony beneath the torture. Students gasped and trembled at the fearsome display of power. Voldemort eventually relented, lifting the curse and leaving Neville to moan and dig his nails into the dirt for relief.

Harry continued to steal forward, reaching the front row of students watching the terrible display. There was roughly fifty feet of open ground between the students and Neville...could he cross that space unnoticed beneath the Cloak? Would Voldemort be able to sense his presence by magical means? And could Harry somehow get between the two and steal Neville away to somewhere private, in order to administer the Hallows and try to remove the horcrux again? He was running out of time to find a solution.

Voldemort reached down and grabbed Neville roughly by his hair, pulling him back up to his knees. "Today, I will demonstrate what happens to trouble-makers in my regime," he said. "You will witness the end of your so-called hero, and see just how 'powerful' he truly is. Neville Longbottom will die tonight."

Several of the younger students began to cry softly as Voldemort aimed his wand at Neville. The teen looked resigned to his fate, still staring dully at the ground. Never had Harry seen someone look so downtrodden, so defeated. But to his credit, Neville did not cower or cry – his back remained straight, and he looked proud in death, refusing to beg for mercy.

Just a bit closer, Harry thought as he stole across the no-man's land, inch by inch, hoping to avoid detection. A few more yards, and I can try to catch Voldemort off-guard...all I need is a second of distraction…

"After today, none shall stand against the might of Lord Voldemort again!" Voldemort proclaimed to the gathered students and reporters. "As Longbottom dies, so too do the last embers of resistance against my rule. Tonight marks the closing of one chapter in history as a new one begins: the eternal rule of Lord Voldemort."

Time to move, Harry thought grimly. Time to make something happen—

But then, something happened that he – or Voldemort – had not expected.

From the south came a great war cry, as thousands of fighters spilled onto the grounds from Hogsmeade. The resistance had arrived. They had not waited for Harry's signal as planned – they were attacking now, leaving the students exposed.

It's too soon, Harry lamented. I can't reach Neville in time.

Voldemort spun around towards the source of the commotion, snarling in anger. And Harry knew this was his last opportunity. He ran forward, abandoning the pretense of stealth to reach Neville as quickly as possible. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, his legs molasses as he tried to reach the boy before it was too late. Neville seemed to sense his presence, turning towards Harry, as though he could see him through the Invisibility Cloak he had enjoyed the use of for so long.

And there, Harry saw it. Something in Neville's expression that told him everything he needed to know. Hope. Elation. Fear. He may have been acting brave, but Harry knew in that instant what was truly going through Neville's mind. He did not want to die. He was second-guessing his decision and wished for a second chance at life.

Then, Neville acted as well. He sprung up to his feet, running forward towards Harry. His arms were still bound behind his back, but he was desperate to escape, desperate to reach safety. And Harry was desperate to get him there. He had to reach the boy. Had to free him from Voldemort's clutches. Had to keep his promise to Dahlia, to himself, to do whatever he could to spare Neville's life—

Then it happened. A muttered incantation. A flash of green light. A gleam of triumph in Voldemort's blood-red eyes as he claimed his ultimate prize.

Harry skidded to a halt, stumbling to his knees in disbelief. He stared blankly as Neville Longbottom was struck by the Killing Curse in mid-stride. His hopeful expression went blank as he fell forward, landing face-down in the grass and moving no more. The students screamed in horror as they realized what had just happened. And there was nothing Harry could have done to prevent it.

The Boy Who Lived was dead. And the battle for Britain's soul had just begun.

A/N: Buckle your seatbelts. See you next week.