“Is it really necessary we meet this late, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked, her eyebrows raising as the Headmaster settled himself behind his desk. The candles in the room were dimmed, and only a few embers were smoldering in the fireplace. Strangely, the room didn’t appear particularly dark – partially because the Pensieve sitting on the corner of Dumbledore’s desk made all the light that much more visible.

   “Lord Voldemort is not sleeping, and neither should we,” Dumbledore said calmly, looking at the three Order members across from him. “And as we all perfectly well know, there is not much sleep to be had within Hogwarts these days.”

   “It’s a magical effect of some sort,” Moody growled. “It has to be. Nobody in Hogwarts has been able to sleep restfully for almost a month, and you can tell by the circles under their eyes and the fraying tempers. Hell, Snape’s probably been able to get the most sleep out of all of us here!”

   “That’s if you count being beaten unconscious as sleep,” Snape retorted, clenching his hands into fists. “The Headmaster’s right, though, we don’t have a lot of time.”

   “Duly noted,” Dumbledore said gravely, “particularly considering Voldemort is acting with a level of coordination and speed that we have not seen since the First War.”

   “And this is with his most dangerous Death Eaters behind bars,” Snape said curtly. “It will get worse.”

   “Indubitably,” Dumbledore agreed. “As of two days ago, Lord Voldemort executed several plans in rapid succession: the home of Nathan Cassane was attacked, along with the covert meeting place I had arranged with Scrimgeour; Snape was freed from Ministry custody, and there was another ghostly attack upon innocents in our school.”

   “I’ve spoken to Poppy, and it is likely that all the students will make a complete recovery,” Professor McGonagall added. “It will take a bit longer for Argus, but she suspects that a bit of a break will be good for him.”

   “I will arrange a trip to the highlands for him as soon as possible, though it will have to be highly secret – we don’t want the Ministry realizing that there are internal problems within Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Alastor, have you received any new information from Kingsley?”

   “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is in chaos,” Moody said with a snort. “Fudge’s meddling has aggravated a lot of people, most notably Scrimgeour and Bones. Both of them Fudge needs on his side if they want to wage war against us. And most of the rest of the Departments are undecided where they stand.”

   “Do you believe there is any chance of reopening negotiations with the upper echelons of the Ministry?”

   McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “You think they’ll want to negotiate?”

   “Not in the slightest, but we must make some attempt to avert the conflict, if only to present the rational face to the wizarding public that has been sorely lacking in these past few days,” Dumbledore said, his eyes meeting Moody’s and Snape’s, which were filled with skepticism.

   “And when they refuse?”

   “Oh, with the right impetus, I don’t believe they will refuse my offer for more negotiations,” Dumbledore replied, a glint creeping into his eyes. “The people we need inside the Ministry already support our cause, and it is simply a matter of having them take the necessary action.”

   “The only problem with that is Fudge’s hair trigger,” Moody said with disgust, rubbing the knee of his wooden leg.

   “Not to mention the fact that the Dark Lord will begin eliminating those who show their true colours,” Snape added darkly. “It was no coincidence that he had Gertrude Marchbanks killed, and I know for a fact that he has spies within the Ministry.”

   “You know names?” McGonagall asked sharply.

   “None that I can release here,” Snape retorted. “You know that as well as anyone, Professor.”

   “Regardless of these spies, we cannot afford to delay much longer,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Once the instability within the Ministry is quelled to a manageable level, he will deliver his statements to the press, both foreign and domestic. If we cannot establish an arrangement beforehand, our next option is getting the truth to the wizarding public before Fudge delivers his statement.”

   “And I’m assuming we are not relying upon the Prophet?” McGonagall asked crisply.

   “According to a trusted agent of mine, that particular issue should soon be resolved very soon, and if everything goes according to plan, that agent will soon have a very valuable member of the Ministry on our side.” Dumbledore smiled. “Harry Potter’s ‘negotiation skills’ have proven to be most beneficial to our cause.”

   “Bet they have,” Moody grunted. “What about the goblins?”

   “Again, according to Harry’s information, initial contact has been made, and with our sympathizers there, a deal can swiftly be made. And Bill Weasley has already made some significant headway within Gringotts.”

   “I’m speaking to you privately after this meeting,” Snape said abruptly. “Regarding that.”

   “You have new information?” Dumbledore asked, a hint of surprise creeping into his voice.

   “There’s not much I can give you, but it’s private.”

   McGonagall and Moody both scowled, but Dumbledore nodded with agreement.

   “What about Nathan Cassane?” McGonagall asked. “Did You-Know-Who manage to retrieve anything –”

   “Cassane has not responded to any of my queries, but nor have I expected any,” Dumbledore replied heavily. “And even despite the attack, I have little doubt that Cassane will want to remain as neutral in this conflict as possible. The fact that he was able to provide for us some necessary knowledge does not mean he is willing to take an active role against Voldemort.”

   “And we shouldn’t want him to, either,” Moody said suddenly, a hard note in his voice. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: bringing Nathan Cassane into this, despite his power and knowledge, is a terrible idea.”

   “He could be valuable –”

   “Valuable like a Combustion Concoction,” Snape said harshly. “I’m with the Auror on this. Cassane cannot be controlled, and keeping him in any sort of proximity to the Order would be dangerous beyond measure. He’s a loose cannon at best and a dangerous liability at worst.”

   “Fortunately,” Dumbledore interrupted before McGonagall could reply, “he shows no interest in this conflict, and unless we have no other choice, I will not be pursuing him.”

   “We already know he could have vital knowledge to whatever’s attacking people in our school, we can’t just disregard this!” McGonagall said heatedly. “If we’re to stop any more of these attacks –”

   “We must do it on our own,” Dumbledore said firmly. “Fortunately, we already have a great deal of information surrounding the attacks – our challenge will be thwarting them before there is significant damage, and finding the instigator.”

   “And this incident, Professor, is not like that of the Chamber of Secrets,” Snape said icily. “I fully expect Slytherins to fall victim to these attacks in the long run.”

   Dumbledore gave Snape a penetrating look. “Do you have new information surrounding this, Severus?”

   “The Dark Lord is indeed behind it – he is not concealing that,” Snape spat. “If anything, he wants that truth to be known. But in this case, he is not utilizing typical Death Eaters whom I would be able to identify. And while I remain valuable to the Dark Lord –”

   “He would not hesitate to eliminate you if you were to begin active investigations,” Dumbledore finished with a solemn nod.

   “We still need information regarding the Death Eaters, and we cannot afford to lose another qualified professional and Order member at this school,” McGonagall said curtly. “Snape must be kept out of this.”

   “Agreed,” Dumbledore said, sliding a small pile of books across the desk. “In the mean time, while we continue our investigation, I would like these exorcism books to be distributed amongst the entire staff. Memorize every single spell found within – we do not know how and when these ghosts might attack. And any sighting of Peeves must be reported to me immediately – there is something wrong with that poltergeist.”

   Snape shifted in his chair, but said nothing.

   “The entire staff must be made aware that something deep within Hogwarts has been broken,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Something the Founders of this school created hundreds of years ago. That ‘something’ must be found and repaired, and given the other peculiar events – particularly that magical effect that surrounded Hogwarts – we cannot afford to forget the little details. Our priorities must be to protect the students and find the instigator of this crisis. If he or she can be found and apprehended, we can end this before it has a chance to get worse.”

   “You think it might be a student?” Professor McGonagall asked, shock filling her voice.

   “It is a possibility.”

   “It could have also been those two Hit Wizards who escaped from Snape’s dungeons two nights ago, conveniently at the same time as the second attack,” Moody added harshly. “All indications are that they fled, but it could have been a ruse, and they both could be behind this.”

   Snape bristled at the implied insult. “I wasn’t even at the school at the time, Auror, and such implications – that I might be complicit in this – are unwise.”

   “I didn’t survive this long without being suspicious,” Moody retorted, “particularly towards those whose true colours have yet to be clearly seen –”

   “Alastor, enough,” Dumbledore said sharply. “What I need from you is information from within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – our people there need to be ready for the worst.”

   The colour left McGonagall’s face, and even Snape tensed.

   “If negotiations break down… and if all our efforts to stymie this war come to naught,” Dumbledore said slowly, “we cannot have our country torn apart so Lord Voldemort can pick up the pieces. If Fudge has the chance to declare war…”
   His voice trailed off as he looked at Moody.

   “It’ll be done, Dumbledore.”

   “Albus, you can’t be serious,” McGonagall began, looking between Dumbledore and Moody with renewed alarm.

   “Nobody will know the truth, outside of this office,” Dumbledore said softly, closing his eyes. “And we have enough people to control the transition.”

   “Albus –”

   “Minerva,” Dumbledore replied, meeting her horrified gaze. “It is better for only a few to be removed than to have our world under Lord Voldemort’s tyranny.”

   “The Dark Lord will interfere.”

   “And in that, he will not be able to stop this,” Dumbledore said, turning to Snape. “Voldemort will not protect them, and even if he tried, his efforts would be clumsy and unskilled. He is not a protector, Severus, you and I both know this.”

   “He’ll still interfere if he discovers any inkling of this –”

   “That’s why we have to keep it quiet,” Moody growled, standing suddenly. “I’ll tell Kingsley, but I recommend that the details be hidden from the rest of the Order unless we have no other choice. Besides, there are too many leaks right now, too few people that we can trust.”

   “And in this matter, secrecy is essential,” Dumbledore said quietly, a very grim note in his voice, his eyes fixed on McGonagall. “If all plans fail… and if we have no other choice or option… and only if there is no other way and Lord Voldemort is bearing down upon us…”

   “Fudge dies,” Snape finished savagely.

*          *         *

   “But Harry, you can’t just –”

   “I can, Ron, and the last thing I need is to draw any more suspicion to myself,” Harry replied briskly, descending the stairs quickly as he moved towards the statue of the one-eyed witch. “And with Dumbledore meeting with McGonagall, Moody, and Snape, they won’t notice I’m leaving until I’m already gone.”

   “Harry, where are you –”

   “Don’t ask questions, it’s better you don’t know,” Harry interrupted curtly, not even looking back at Ron’s astounded face.

   “Damn right it’s not my business!” Ron said angrily, hurrying up to Harry and grabbing his shoulder. “Despite everything, Harry, you’re my friend, and if you’re going to do something –”

   Harry spun around and glared at Ron. “I told you, it’s better you don’t know. You can’t know.”

   “How illegal is it? Does Dumbledore know?”

   “He’s probably got some inkling by now,” Harry snapped, twisting out of Ron’s grasp and storming down the hall. “And he’s figuring out more and more every damn day –”

   “Can I help?”

   Harry’s laugh was brief, harsh, and utterly humorless. “You wouldn’t want to, if you knew the truth. Besides, I’ve got help.”

   “Damn it, Harry, you can trust me –”

   “How?” Harry snarled, spinning around again to face Ron in the corridor, the long shadows from the torches crossing their paths as he heard the distant rumble of thunder out the window. Despite the relatively early hour in the evening, the sky was already dark.

   “What do you mean?”

   “You know what I mean! You let Hermione eavesdrop on your mad plan before –”

   “I told you, I didn’t know she was there –”

    “And you stole that sheet of spells from me,” Harry finished, his eyes blazing. “Ron, how do you explain that? It’s almost as if you didn’t trust me!”

   Ron opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was lost for words, and Harry knew it.

   “If you can trust me with anything,” Harry began slowly, meeting Ron’s eyes with a dangerous expression, “then as your friend, I’m asking you to do one thing: don’t follow me. You, me, this entire damn school will be safer that way.”

   Without another word, Harry turned, pulled on his Invisibility Cloak, and he was gone, leaving Ron seething behind him.

*          *          *

   “Professor McGonagall seems… uncomfortable with your ultimatum.”

   “It was not an ultimatum,” Dumbledore said wearily, “and hopefully she will realize it will not come to that. Sometimes desperate measures are required. She was not in the Order last time, she does not completely understand that.”

   “I wasn’t either,” Snape snapped, “but that’s not the point, is it?”

   “Do not try to bait me, Severus, it’s unbecoming of you and your intelligence,” Dumbledore replied evenly as he settled himself behind his desk and folded his hands. “Although you could not have been more obvious earlier.”

   “What?”

   “You’ve encountered Peeves recently, and I need every detail.”

   “No, you don’t.”

   “Severus –”
   “You don’t need details, Dumbledore,” Snape snarled, slamming his fist on the arm of the chair. “Period. All you need to know is that he was there… I saw him where the werewolf found me.”

   “And what did he say?” Dumbledore’s voice was soft, barely a whisper.

   “You don’t need to know that.”

   “Severus, do not make this difficult.”

   Snape’s eyes flashed. “What, you don’t want to know how it feels to live a difficult life, Headmaster?”

   “Severus, this is not the time,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet and moving towards one of his bookshelves. “Lord Voldemort is not wasting time, and I would find it difficult to believe that you do not know the identity of his Death Eaters within this school.”

   “There’s only one other,” Snape growled through clenched teeth, “besides me, if you’re counting.”

   Dumbledore paused for a moment, as if he was carefully considering his next words, his fingers drifting over the spines of the leather-bound books. “His name, Severus.”

   “I can’t tell you that,” Snape said curtly, crossing his arms over his chest.

   “Do not be petulant, Severus, it is unbecoming of you –”

   “The Dark Lord will know if I tell you, and my life will be forfeit. And even if I told you the name, it would be of no use – the Dark Lord is using foils.” There was a bitter note in Snape’s voice, and both of his hands were clenched tightly as he also rose to his feet. “Even for me.”

   “It is Draco Malfoy, is it not?”

   “I can’t say one way or another.”

   “But he is involved?”

   “Dumbledore, I can’t say,” Snape growled.

   “Severus, lives and souls are at stake here,” Dumbledore said, turning to face the Potions professor. “If you are not bound by a magical compulsion and it is only fear for your own life holding you back, I can protect you –”

   “What, like you protected Lily?” Snape exploded, his temper finally breaking.

   “Severus –”

   “Enough excuses and lies – you can’t protect me, Dumbledore!” Snape roared. “I agreed to come back for one last year, and you seem committed to wrenching every drop of service you can wring out of me!”

   Dumbledore’s eyes hardened. “Severus, there are four girls in the hospital wing who will never recover! Do you wish to be the one to write the letters to their families, their mothers and fathers, telling them that their daughters, under our care, are now worse than dead? Lord Voldemort has chosen to attack innocents under my power, and with Pringle’s resurrection and subsequent destruction, I now know he is doing this to target me, with a brutal message I don’t dare return in kind. I will not sink to Voldemort’s level, Snape – and nor should you.”

   “You suggest,” Snape sneered, after a few seconds of silence, “that by withholding information about the identity of the missing Death Eater here, I’m as complicit as the Dark Lord, even though the revealing of that information would come with the certainty of my death. Very noble, Headmaster.”

   “I will not let the children under my charge come to more harm, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his eyes blazing. “The names, Severus, of the Death Eaters responsible for this.”

   It was not a question.

   Snape looked out the window, his eyes as blank as fogged glass on a frozen day. “You’re on the right track with Malfoy, but the Dark Lord has layered his foils – and his plan is already too far in motion. It is only the direction of the Death Eater that keeps Hogwarts still safely sane, at the cost of the sanity of the Death Eater involved.”

   Dumbledore frowned. “You’re saying –”

  “I’m saying nothing,” Snape snarled, turning to face Dumbledore for a few seconds before looking back out the window, where storm clouds blanketed the sky and thunder was rumbling. “All I mention is that you might wish to wait before closing in – otherwise Hogwarts will be ruined irreparably.”

   Dumbledore was silent for a few seconds. Fawkes let out a mournful, slightly discordant trill as Snape continued to avoid Dumbledore’s gaze.

   “You’re suggesting –”

   “His controlling pattern will make it evident soon enough,” Snape snapped. “Not much longer now, for us.”

   “Perhaps for us, but not for everyone else,” Dumbledore said, taking a deep breath as he pulled an extremely battered book from the shelf and gestured for Snape to come closer. “Come here, I want you to step out onto my balcony.”

   “The view isn’t as good as that from the Astronomy Tower,” Snape said with a disinterested shrug. “Why do you think we always find ignorant couples fornicating up where they think we won’t find them?”

   “Take a look at the sky, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly, “and tell me what you see.”

   Snape snorted, but looked out at the miasma of storm clouds. Lightning and rain weren’t yet pelting the castle, but he knew it was only a matter of time –

   He paused, frowning as he squinted out at the clouds. Something was wrong, because it was raining, and there was lightning in the sky… just none over Hogwarts. The castle and the grounds seemed untouched by the storm, even as the black clouds floated overhead.

   “I don’t recognize this magic,” Snape murmured, drawing his wand.

   “Nor did I, until I found this book while searching for books regarding the hidden histories of Hogwarts,” Dumbledore replied, carefully pulling the book open. “It’s an old treatise written in the thirteenth century regarding the theory behind the enchantment of buildings and it makes a very interesting claim.”

   “What?”

   “That if two exceptionally powerful magical effects occurred within the vicinity of magic like that which surrounds Hogwarts, something horribly unpredictable could happen,” Dumbledore said gravely. “My suspicion is that this is a temporal distortion, surrounding the entire school.”

   Snape turned quickly to face Dumbledore, clear skepticism on his face. “Time magic? That belongs in the Department of Mysteries –”

   “Not an intentional distortion, Severus, but born of two, possibly unrelated magical effects,” Dumbledore replied pensively. “And Voldemort’s plan seems to be one of the contributing factors.”

   “And the other?”

   “I do not know,” Dumbledore replied calmly, “but I suspect – and you do not need to confirm or deny this – that the Death Eaters within this school unleashed the magic the same night Hogwarts was seemingly engulfed in a conflagration of magic unlike none I have ever seen –”

   “The same night Potter disappeared,” Snape interrupted.

   Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. “Despite Harry’s rising skill, such magic would be beyond him – on my level of my prodigious skill, or even higher. I suspect that the young Death Eaters within this school only utilized the magic following Voldemort’s exact tutelage, and that it took a great deal of work to activate such magic within the school.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Of course, that also makes the neutralization of said Death Eaters extremely dangerous, because if they lose control of the magic that Voldemort has found –”

   “Hogwarts could be lost in time,” Snape said slowly. “That’s why you aren’t insisting I give the names to you –”

   “Or use Legilimancy to find out the whole truth of the matter from you, or at least enough to put an end to this thread,” Dumbledore added grimly. “Until we can reverse the distortion, which I suspect is tied directly to our incorporeal threat, I dare not apprehend the culprit, for the release of his control could destroy this school.”

   “How are you so sure it’s tied to –”

   “Did not Peeves confront you in the Floo Network, Severus?” Dumbledore returned coolly. At the sudden impassive look on Snape’s face, he continued. “I didn’t need Legilimancy to figure this out, Severus – this distortion will strongly affect magical transportation, and the Floo Network is no exception.”

   Snape shifted uncomfortably at the implication – he didn’t like others in his mind, and he knew that it would try even his defenses to keep Dumbledore out. “And that’s why that watch of yours wasn’t working a few days ago –”

   “If Time is a river – a hotly debated hypothesis by many Unspeakables – then the current in Hogwarts has become heavy, flowing slower within the normal stream of time,” Dumbledore said, a note of wonder in his voice as he saw lightning dance across the sky, the thunder strangely muted. “Really just a dampening of entropy as I understand it, and this sort of entropy is a construct of blended science and magic, only understood in the bleakest Arithmancy equations and inexplicable runic reactions.” He turned to face Snape. “Something that even I don’t completely understand.”

   “The Dark Lord didn’t plan for this.”

   “Of that, we are both certain,” Dumbledore agreed, stepping back into the office, Snape close behind him. “Lord Voldemort would not want his school lost to time, but it works in his favour. Though I cannot predict the rate of temporal decay, it slows our reaction time. Voldemort will be able move much quicker from our perspective.”

   “With the ghosts and now this, it’d be safer if we just evacuated the school,” Snape said curtly, returning to his seat.

   “And go where?” Dumbledore replied, blinking twice as he sat opposite the Potions master. “The most we can do is react to the threats, respond with no casualties, and track the pattern before disaster strikes.”

   Snape was silent for a long few seconds, until –

   “You haven’t told the staff or, Merlin curse me, Potter yet, have you? What about the students?”

   “The temporal distortion would cause a greater panic if the truth is made known,” Dumbledore said grimly. “Fortunately, with the Ministry’s recent actions, cancellation of Hogsmeade trips will not be questioned, and the holidays… well, depending upon the Ministry’s actions, we may be able to avoid a confrontation there. I plan to inform the staff as soon as possible.”

   “And Potter?”

   “It will be explained to him, given his missions,” Dumbledore said firmly.

   A bitter smile crossed Snape’s lips as he heard a ringing crack of thunder; the storm had passed through the temporal distortion. “You know such missions will be in jeopardy, because of three little things I learned.”

   Dumbledore tensed. “What you wanted to tell me earlier.”

   “Yes,” Snape said darkly as he raised a long finger. “Number one: Dmitri Kemester is alive.”

   “I suspected as much,” Dumbledore said heavily, “given that his body was not found. How did he survive?”

   “Round-the-clock emergency treatments, most of which would be considered inhumane by any reasonable Healer out of St. Mungo’s,” Snape growled. “And he wants Potter apprehended for everything he’s done – something I can slightly sympathize with, I might add. But more importantly, he suspects that something is amiss.”

   Dumbledore understood instantly, and his eyes brightened with interest. “Could he become an asset to our cause?”

   Snape snorted. “Only if Potter is dead, and that’s going to happen on your watch. And besides – and this is my second point – he’s in it thick with Lucius Malfoy, who also has a score to settle. Malfoy wants Potter to pay for what he’s done.”

   Dumbledore tensed for a moment. “Do you know Malfoy’s plan?”

   “Not enough of it,” Snape snapped, rising quickly and beginning to pace. “He brought me into a meeting with a group of Gringotts bankers, but it was not a real discussion – mostly just legalese and a few Imperius Curses.”

   Dumbledore sat bolt upright. “Severus –”

   “This time I can’t say a damned thing, whether I want to or not,” Snape said grimly. “Lucius told me to sign as a witness on the papers, and that means it’s all confidential, magically sealed with Tongue-Tying Curses and Obliviations to boot. All I know is that Kemester found something related to wizarding financial law when he was combing the Hogwarts library – and now they’re using it.”

   “They’re trying to take his gold,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet and raising his wand, his eyes gleaming with sudden realization. “Malfoy wants him to pay – literally.”

   “What are you planning on doing, contacting the goblins?”

   “They might be able to thwart –”

   “Not this time,” Snape said tonelessly. “Kemester – that clever fucker Kemester – found the loophole that the Ministry’s been trying to find for centuries.”

   “Then I will contact Harry himself,” Dumbledore said, raising his wand. “He is already engaged in negotiations with the goblins, he may be able to –”

   “And that leads me to my third point,” Snape said bitingly, raising a third finger. “Where is Potter?”

   “Outside of the school, under my permission,” Dumbledore said, a small smile rising to his lips. “A boon to us – he’ll be able to act without interference –”

   “Where’s Nymphadora Tonks?”

   Dumbledore’s small smile vanished in an instant. “So you noticed it too.”

   Snape snorted. “Potter is disappointingly obvious, Headmaster. The only two he confided in were Black and the Metamorphmagus –”

   “A development of which I approve. Miss Tonks has a good head on her shoulders, and she will be an excellent influence on Harry. Alastor also approves –”

   Snape slammed both his fists on the desk, his patience finally gone. Fawkes gave a shrill squawk as another roll of thunder split the air. “Dumbledore, Kemester interrogated me when I was at the Ministry, and he let slip that a ‘school friend’ of Potter’s – a female friend – gave information to him while he was still at Hogwarts. Mostly false or misleading information about Potter, but there was enough there to make Kemester think he had a chance of arresting the arrogant fool on his way back from Hogsmeade – and he did, one of the many events that led to the disaster we have today.

   “But I knew as well as anyone that Potter was on the outs with the Granger girl, and that she would never be caught dead sneaking around late at night.” Snape’s eyes flashed. “Only one person would have dared – someone who can change her shape at will.”

   “I don’t like what you’re implying, Severus,” Dumbledore said warningly.

   “It’s a plan you never would have condoned, this leakage,” Severus hissed, “because you would have realized that it was only going to go horribly wrong. But she didn’t. No, she acted out of loyalty to Potter, which has become stronger than any loyalty to the Order.”

   “So Nympadora erred, Severus, as we all do,” Dumbledore replied, a small note of anger in his voice. “And Harry became only stronger for it.”

   “And all the more willing to kill whoever gets in his way, but that’s hardly the point now, is it?” Snape sneered.

   Dumbledore rose to his feet. “Severus –”

   “My point is not that Miss Tonks is a fool for attempting such a gambit with Kemester – a gambit, might I add, that has left people dead,” Snape snarled, crossing his arms over the chest. “Rather, that Potter might have such feelings, or even more, towards our fiery and rebellious Auror.”

   “A friend Harry needs!”

   “And cannot afford to lose,” Snape said grimly, “because Sirius Black is in Hogsmeade right now, and his mission is to kill Nymphadora Tonks right in front of Potter – just like the Dark Lord planned. And with Potter and likely Miss Tonks in the town…”

   He left the words unspoken, but the implication was clear: there would be death in Hogsmeade tonight.

*          *          *

   Harry was certain of only one thing as he stumbled up the muddy path towards the Shrieking Shack: as magical as the Invisibility Cloak was, it was not water-proof. The icy trickles down his face and neck were evidence of it, and he could feel himself shivering violently as sheets of water fell from the sky. It almost seemed like the thunder was muted through the curtains of heavy rain, but Harry could feel the vibrations, could see the jagged lightning crossing the sky like so many cracks into some horrifying alternate world, could smell the reek of ozone and burned air…

   He shook his head quickly and quickened his pace, nearly slipping on the wet grime that coated the abandoned, weed-filled trail up the Shack. The building, if anything, looked as though a single strong blast of wind could send it splintering along the hillside, and Harry fervently hoped it wouldn’t happen while he and Tonks were still inside.

   He drew his wand as he approached the door, heavily boarded up with rotting faggots of wood. His eyes narrowed as he carefully crossed to the side of the house, where a gaping hole the size of a man (or a small werewolf) was present.

   “Oh, come on, Tonks,” he muttered to himself, as he bent to squeeze himself through the hole and into the darkened Shack. “It can’t be that –”

   His words were cut off by a wand at his throat.

   “Password?”

   “Simulamancer,” Harry replied instantaneously, relaxing slightly at Tonks’ amused tone.

   “Nah, could still be a Death Eater. What… is your name?”
   “Harry Potter –”

   “What… is your quest?’

    Harry rolled his eyes, but a fresh prod of his neck prompted a response. “To execute the simulamancy ritual and thus defeat Voldemort. Now, Tonks –”

   “What… is your favourite –”

   “Oh, stop it, Tonks, you know it’s me,” Harry said exasperatedly, shoving himself through the hole and glaring at the widely grinning Auror. “Besides, I wasn’t followed, and every child in this country should know those lines. That Muggle film is ubiquitous – hell, I bet most witches and wizards have seen it!”

   “Huh, I thought it was just me,” Tonks mused, lightly pushing Harry further into the dilapidated room. “Then again, my Dad was a Muggle-born.”

   “What are you doing?” Harry asked warily as Tonks raised her wand to point at the haphazard beams above the hole.

   “Collapsing the entrance.”

   “Are you crazy? How are we going to get out?”

   “There’s an underground passage that’ll let us out,” Tonks said with a wink. “But then again, you already knew that, didn’t you?”

   Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it as with a single wordless jab of Tonks’ wand, the ceiling around the hole shuddered before collapsing violently around the improvised entrance. The Shack shuddered, but the rough timbers somehow kept the crumpled ceiling from collapsing any further.

   “There,” Tonks said, tucking her wand away. “Impassable, just like before.”

   “Minus the structural damage, of course,” Harry replied, glancing nervously at the ceiling. “I thought you couldn’t get into the Shrieking Shack from the outside – Fred and George have been trying for years.”

   “Well, they couldn’t Apparate, now could they?” Tonks said with a shrug. “I just blew the hole in the wall with an overpowered Bludgeoning Curse and spent the next hour trying to shore up the walls and ceilings enough so that when I did collapse the entrance, the entire dump wouldn’t come tumbling down around our ears. Not to mention,” she added, with a growing smile, “that I spent all this time trying to get this ritual ready –”

    “Yeah, yeah, I get the point,” Harry muttered, following Tonks into the tiny bedroom. As before, the books were resting in a pentagonal shape on the table (something that Tonks had clearly scavenged, as two of the legs were broken and propped up with books), and the body of the dead Death Eater was lying on a Transfigured stone table, covered with a white sheet. Unlike before, Harry didn’t see another table where he was supposed to lie. In fact, he didn’t see much else in the room at all, besides the old dusty bed that Harry had seen years ago.

   He noticed Tonks was scanning the books avidly. “Any problems getting the body over here?”

   Tonks looked up at him and snorted. “Come on, Harry, you shouldn’t even have to ask that question. With the chaos in the Ministry right now, I doubt anybody notices or cares about its absence.”

   “Did we find out who it was, at least?”

   “The girl is Lucy Warrington, a quiet girl who graduated Hogwarts a year after I did,” Tonks said, her smile fading somewhat. “Slytherin girl, kept to herself, she worked at Flourish & Blotts after Hogwarts. Really, I’m not surprised that she went over to Voldemort – it’s all too easy in her environment.”

   “Tonks, it was a bookshop.”

   “Exactly my point,” Tonks said, her hair going auburn as she waved her wand, carving a diagnostic spell in the air. “Dark magic is insidious, Harry, and the scary thing is that some of it can be sold if you can afford it, and not just from Knockturn Alley. No, I’m sure Flourish & Blotts has a section of some pretty nasty books – all for ‘academic’ reasons and at an exorbitant price, but I bet they’re there. And she would have had access to all of them.”

   “Wait a minute… I know a Warrington!” Harry said after a few seconds of thought. “Cole Warringon, he’s on the Slytherin Quidditch team!”

   “And so was her older brother, likely the other unidentified Death Eater rookie who showed up at Cassane’s house,” Tonks finished with disgust. “And it’s likely where Mr. Cole Warrington is going as soon as Voldemort convinces him the Ministry was responsible for his sister’s death. She might be somewhat estranged from her family, but they’ll still care.”

   Some of the colour left Harry’s face. “That… that’s just sick.”

   “Yeah, well, it’s not the first time Voldemort’s used the tactic,” Tonks replied quietly, scribbling down a few calculations. “According to the old Ministry debriefs that I studied, some of Voldemort’s nastiest Death Eaters were disillusioned by the way the Ministry behaved in the last war… hell, Sirius should be able to tell you more about that.”

   Harry stepped up next to Tonks and looked carefully at the body. “Will the Dark Mark’s magic interfere with the simulamancy?”

   “Not as far as I can tell,” Tonks replied with another frown. “But it’s another variable that I know nothing about when it comes to this ritual, so I really can’t be too sure.”

   “It doesn’t seem like you’re as harassed this time with the ritual as before, though,” Harry remarked, a hint of his grin returning.

   “Bodies don’t decay when they’re in a Ministry morgue,” Tonks said simply, “and that means there’s a load of diagnostic spells I don’t need to cast.” Setting down the quill, she turned to face Harry with a devious smile on her face. “I think, though, you know what part of the ritual comes next.”

   “Uh, Tonks –”

   She had picked up the silvery sheet almost unthinkingly, but her eyes, shifting from colour to colour with a strange intensity before setting on an ivy shade that matched his own, hadn’t left Harry’s gaze. The smile on her face was playful, as if she was looking forward to something…

   He could feel her hand creep around him, sliding up his buttocks and into his shirt, stroking his back beneath it. Her other hand was gripping the edge of his cloak, slowly pulling it away. Her hair had returned to bubblegum pink, but had grown longer and softer beneath his hands.

   “You want me to strip,” Harry whispered, his eyes not leaving hers.

   Tonks only responded by pressing her mouth against his, and in a second, Harry felt his heart hammer inside his chest. It wasn’t like kissing her the three times before; no, he wanted it this time, he had been craving it in the back of his mind and in barely remembered dreams when he could steal a minute of sleep…

   She broke the kiss, her playful smile returning. “Of course I want you to strip,” she replied matter-of-factly, her hand tugging away his cloak to fall onto the dusty floorboards. “Only this time, I’m going to help… and it’s going to be a mutual experience…”

   She pressed her body against his, and Harry found his hands tracing the muscular curves of Tonks’ body. Yet with every hesitation, he could feel Tonks changing her body. Her hips became more slender and defined beneath his touch, and he could feel her waist shrink ever so slightly as his hand mimicked Tonks’ motions. Her legs grew longer, and Harry noticed that they were within an inch of each other’s heights.

   “You made yourself taller?”

   “No, I changed my shoes when you weren’t looking,” Tonks replied as she kissed him again. Suddenly, Harry felt a new pressure his chest, and looking down, he saw the swell of her breasts pressing against him, straining against the provocatively tight Auror robes…

   “That… I think that’s cheating,” Harry whispered.

   “And most women would agree with that sentiment,” Tonks said, pulling away Harry’s robes and beginning to loosen his tie. “But then again, I’m not most women.”

   He took a deep breath. The silvery sheet was set aside against the table as his hands found something far better to do: pulling open the fastenings of her jacket. He was trembling, but there was no fear in what he was doing – no, for once, he wasn’t afraid. He wanted this, he needed this, a moment of respite…

   His lips met hers again, and he could taste her hunger, her desire, something that surprised him… he wasn’t going to complain, but it was strange…

   “So, are you a cougar now or something?”

   “Don’t complain, Harry, we’ve got more experience,” Tonks murmured, finally pulling his tie free and beginning to work on the buttons of his shirt with a hungry intensity. Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Unless, you want me to transform into Hannah again –”

   Harry smiled. “Nah, that’s not what I want.”

   She sidled closer, her lips sliding next to his ear. “Then what do you want?”

   “Keep your hair short. Having it long reminds me of Hermione, and that’s not a turn-on.”

   Tonks could barely restrain a laugh, but her hair shot back up her back to a much shorter, feminine cut. She then gave Harry a sultry smile as she finally pulled his shirt away.

   “That better?”

   Harry only kissed her neck, and they both understood that words were no longer necessary.

   And a few seconds later, with a distracted wave of Tonks’ wand, neither were pants.

   They kissed passionately, and Harry’s rational thoughts began blurring as his hands felt the clasp of Tonks’ bra, straining against her own modifications. After a second of trying to pull open, he gave it up as a lost cause as his hands slid down her naked back towards her panties...

   He heard her give a low moan of pleasure as his fingers curled around the lace. His heart starting racing at the sound and the soft touch of Tonks’ lips on his neck as she maneuvered them towards the bed…

   Harry felt his knees buckle as he fell backwards onto the rumpled sheets. Tonks was on top, but her weight was hardly bothersome. His fingers slipped on the slick fabric of Tonks’ panties, and he leaned forward a bit to regain his grip…

   But Tonks met him in mid lean, her face lit with passion. Her breasts protruded enticingly from her bra, and a hungry smile was on her face.

   “No more… dancing around it, Harry,” she whispered as she climbed closer, her eyes somehow gleaming brighter than any other light in the room. “I want you…”

   He almost paused at that second – for a moment, he almost stopped to ask why on earth a beautiful Metamorphmagus wanted him, of all people. Years younger and a criminal to boot…

   But then the moment passed, Tonks’ lips met his again, and he stopped caring. His eyes closed as waves of bliss thundered through his head –

   CRACK.

   His ears popped painfully, and his eyes burned white from the glare as they snapped open. He blinked back tears, only to see something hot and huge plummeting towards his face…

*           *          *

   Five minutes ago, she hadn’t known why she had followed the anonymous tip, the suggestion to wait quietly outside the ornately carved and overly ostentatious door.

   It was perilously dangerous – placing her in grave danger of breaking her little ‘agreement’ with the bitch – but she knew it was her big chance. Perhaps maybe – maybe – she would get the break she needed.

   But now she understood.

   The vapid bint of a receptionist was sobbing behind her desk, and the burly Hit Wizards were dragging a struggling and swearing Barnabus Cuffe out of his office. The man’s handsome face was twisted grotesquely as he shouted obscenities.

   “You have the right to remain silent… you have the right to an attorney… if you cannot afford one, a delegate from the Department of Magical Law will be provided for you…”

   “You treasonous bastards!” Cuffe screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “You’ve got nothing, and I’ll have your careers for this –”

   He didn’t even notice her, sitting quietly next to the door, a smirk growing across her lips as the Quick-Quotes Quill skidded across her lap.

*          *          *

   He disregarded the pain and the blood seeping from his ringing ears. His muscles twisted, and with a single desperate jerk, he threw them both to the side.

   The flaming faggot of wood hit the bed with a crash, the ragged sheets igniting in seconds. He could feel the heat of the flames singeing his back, and with a violent oath, he rolled off the bed entirely, taking Tonks with him.

    “What the –”

   “Distuli!”

   Harry’s eyes went wide as Tonks’ wild spell took shape above them. It seemed to be roughly hemispherical, and whatever connected with it seemed to hover, suspended, above them.

   Unfortunately, most of what was hovering was flaming debris, and by the paleness of Tonks’ face, he knew it would only be a matter of time before she lost control of the spell and –

   “The simulamancy!”

   “We have to do it now, Harry, there’s no time!” Tonks yelled over the crackle of flames, putting out the flaming bed with a violent jet of water from her wand. Her breasts still visibly bulged against her bra, and Harry desperately wished the blood would come back to his brain where it was urgently needed. “Just because some fuck decides to get in our way doesn’t mean I’m stopping. This spell is only going to last a minute for him – ”

   “That’s not enough time!”

   “Maybe not for him, but for us it is!” Tonks screamed as another beam crashed against the barrier, causing her to audibly wince. “That spell I used won’t let anything in or out for eight whole minutes of our time, and that’ll be enough to trigger the ritual and get your bodies into the passage, but if this bastard’s as good as I think, he’s not going to give me that much time! Now strip, and hurry!”

   “But how are you –”

   Tonks swore violently, and with another violent slash of her wand and a loud ripping noise, Harry felt his clothes fly off. Sudden pain rocked the sensitive parts of his body.

   “Fuck zippers!”

   “And here I wanted you to say that!” Tonks shouted back, unable to keep a smile from crossing her face, even despite the flames and smoke and falling debris pressing in on him. “Now lie down and concentrate!”

   “Tonks, this is suicide –”

   Another wave of her wand sent him flying onto the suddenly repaired bed. Damn good thing Tonks is great at Transfiguration! Harry thought frantically, as he struggled to remember what he had read in Consciousness Conjunctions about clearing his mind and a solitary purpose – near impossible when a single glance through the sheet showed him a liquid inferno across the shield that looked like something straight out of his nightmares of hell…

   And then he heard it, even above the echoing bang of the platinum walls erupting across his vision, tracing the waves of silver fire buttressing the dome of liquid flame…

   A single, echoing, gleeful laugh.

    He knew that laugh.

    It was Sirius.

   His concentration faltered for an instant, but the visions were already coming…

   He was on the top of the Astronomy Tower, his robes flapping madly in the wind as sheets of snow and rain lashed the tower like so many icy tentacles. His glasses were frozen on his nose, and before his unbelieving eyes, lightning and thunder split the sky.

   Yet she seemed starkly unaffected by all of it. Her hair was matted, dirty blonde and soaked flat against her head. Her robes were tattered and ragged – how they got to be in that state, Harry didn’t have a clue – and she was wearing no shoes. She looked nothing more like a drowned ghost, lost in the depths of a storm…

   “No… please….” The words were slipping from his mouth before he knew he said them as he stepped out onto the balcony.

   Luna shook her head mournfully. “We’re both too far to come out, Isabelle. You know that as well as I.” Her voice was not sad, but distant, as if she was speaking to someone who was in another plane of existence entirely…

   “Please…” He was pleading now, and that horrified him even more – the fact he was driven to this, that it had come to this…

   “Don’t feel bad, Harry, it’s not the end…” Luna whispered, the words somehow audible despite the storm.

   And then she turned and looked at him, and Harry couldn’t help but stare into her sky-blue eyes, now tinted beyond the shade of madness.

   His hands started shaking – this hadn’t happened last time. She hadn’t looked – he hadn’t seen this last time.

   “The boundaries are down,” Luna murmured, her voice off-key and singsong, sending chills racing down Harry’s spine that had nothing to do with the wind. “So I merely… cross over…”

   Her bare foot slipped on the wet stone as she turned, and the yell was torn from Harry’s throat…

  He looked down, but did not see the steep smooth precipice of Hogwarts. No, this height was jagged, broken stone. Marble torn away to reveal porous hissing rock beneath. The sky was the matte black of a storm, but no lightning crossed the sky.

   No, all the lightning was far below, crossing the poisonous hellhole of a breached fortress-turned battleground. Fires too, in every colour of the rainbow, from sulfurous yellow to frigid blue to even bone white.

   And there was screaming. A lot of screaming. And not every shriek came from a human throat. No, fouler creatures were falling in that tangled conflagration, falling to the cold silver of emotion…

   Harry heard the screams, but there was something different. He knew that a month earlier, such screams would make him shy away from a suicidal plunge. But not this time – this time he wanted answers, the truth long sought. A truth he deserved, that he had killed for…

   The words of the spell he needed was on his lips, and with a single step, he dove into hell…

   Only to land in the darkness, lit only by flickering flames, silhouetting a wasted man in front of him. Only it wasn’t a man, but someone Harry’s age, his face gaunt, but somehow blurred, unrecognizable in the flickering light.

   “Not nearly enough. What else you got?” Harry felt himself taunt, his mocking tones echoing an unearthly paean in the ancient hall. He could feel the taste of hot blood in his mouth – and not his own.

   The figure’s wand rose, and a long black whip erupted from the end of it.

   Harry’s mouth twisted into a smirk. He knew the exact thing to say now.

   “Ooh. Kinky.”

   The whip cracked – another new arrival to the scene – and exploded into blue-white flames, dripping liquid fire upon the filthy floor, stained by everyone who had crawled towards the pedestal…

    The pedestal…

   He only saw it now, casting the white circle of light upon the ceiling. Barely visible, but he could see the strange, curling mechanism upon it, built with magic that didn’t seem quite real or possible. And for a split second, Harry could see the tiny statue of Hogwarts upon the ancient stone, designed with a meticulous hand that bordered on insanity.

   A Hogwarts surrounded by turbulent mist. A Hogwarts sinking into the stone and casting white arcs of twisted energy into the air. A Hogwarts silhouetted by flames and screams…

   And then it all shattered, the words forgotten in an instant of agony. Pain flooded his nerves, wracked his mind, lacerated his soul… he wanted to black out, to end it, to die, if only that would create some paltry escape…

   And then he heard the voice. He didn’t quite know it, but he could hear the contemplative, self-satisfied triumph, of a hard-won victory savoured and tasted in its full…

   “Well, this won’t do… there’s hardly room for three in here. I think it’s time to make a little… space.”

   And then Harry began to scream.

*          *          *

   She didn’t dare stop the ritual, but even the sweat pouring down her face didn’t stop her from seeing the poisonous green glow surrounding the simulacrum’s left arm – a glow that she thought she had eradicated.

   She didn’t stop chanting, but the words echoed piercingly in her mind.

   Oh shit.

   As before, golden light cascaded between the two bodies, but this time something sickly green slipped between them both, tainting the light into a tarnished bronze… yet she didn’t dare look away, not even outwards through the hemisphere of fire and smoke surrounding them to see the newest white-blue flash…

   The first tremor nearly caused her to lose her footing, but she kept chanting faster and faster, even despite the cold surge of fear filling her gut with every second. She had to do this, even as her desperate shield shuddered as jealous seconds sucked away its strength…

   The lightning hit the hemisphere, and Tonks could hardly restrain her eyes from watching the electricity explode across the shield, but she had no choice. The thunder was coming, she was screaming the words now, only a few more seconds…

   She spoke the final word as the lightning squeezed the hemisphere, filling it with a million cracks. It wavered, flickered, and Tonks felt her insides churning sickeningly as she watched the temporal distortion blink – and then die.

   The explosion rocked Hogsmeade.

*          *          *

   Sirius’ eyes went wild with untamed emotions the second the Shrieking Shack exploded, and he flung an arm over his face as his Shield Charm exploded into existence.

   A second later, his shield shook with impacts, as dirt, rock, and flaming wood collided with it. But it was only a single blast – and as he expected, most of the explosion had been internal, consuming everything within. After all, that was one of the little downsides to that particular shield: it didn’t reflect, only absorb, and when it went, everything went with it.

   “Oh, Moony,” he whispered gleefully as he began running towards the flaming ruin, his boots slipping in the mud. “This would make you so happy… you won’t have to hide anymore…”

   The Shrieking Shack was less than rubble now. What wasn’t burning was charred to a crisp, and rapidly disintegrating under the pounding waves of rain and wind. In the majority of cases, he would call it a done deal, but the Dark Lord had requested a head. Just to be safe.

   It’d be hard to imagine anything and anyone surviving that blast, he thought to himself as he stepped through the once boarded-up and now well-incinerated door. But the old fool was relentless in placing protections on this place, so I wouldn’t be surprised if…

   The Bludgeoning Curse hit him without warning. Not nearly as hard as his own, but it was enough to bruise bones – and propel him back down the muddy hill.

   His eyes went wide with sudden rage, and then narrowed as he saw her charge, clad only in her scanty bra and panties. A deadly foe, maybe, but unprotected, clumsy, and certainly delectable…

   He pulled himself to his feet and drew his wand as a cruel smile crossed his face. Yes, he wanted her in his bed, cowed and beaten into the nubile slave he desired, but that would require a bit of work.

   “I love a challenge!” Sirius howled, even as Tonks sprinted down the slope, rage and grief in her eyes.

*          *          *

   The goat Patronus soared onto Dumbledore’s balcony only a half second before the Headmaster of Hogwarts drew his wand.

   “Black is here, Albus!” Aberforth’s voice roared through the goat’s mouth, competing with the thunderstorm over the school. “And the Shack –”

   Dumbledore’s eyes flashed, and his wand glowed white. In his other hand, he took a firm hold of Fawkes’ tail. Through his magically enhanced spectacles, he could see the flames.

   “You know where to go, Fawkes.”

   The phoenix let out a clarion call, and Dumbledore felt his feet lift the ground as the flaming bird surged into the air.

*          *          *

   She dodged the twin black bolts that spiraled towards her, and slashed at the laughing Sirius again. But this time, the curse was far stronger – driven on her rage and an intangible wrench in her heart – and was capable of shattering bones to slivers.

   Harry was gone – and she hadn’t been able to save him in time. And with him went her chances – all of them.

   “Vercundus!”

   “Parietis,” Sirius said with a deft wave, and the Bludgeoning Curse ricocheted away, smashing a fence post to kindling. “Come on, Nymphadora, I know you want me more than that!”

   “FLAMMA LACERO!”

   But Sirius deflected the flaming arc of fire easily – along with the next six hexes and curses Tonks threw at him. He replied back with a few nasty curses that Tonks barely managed to shield in time, but she could tell with one look at the man’s face that she was overmatched.

   Sirius was toying with her.

   “Come on, Nymphadora!” Sirius shouted over the pounding rain as he transfigured a few shards of wood into knives and hurled them at her. “I thought Aurors were a challenge!”

   “You want a challenge?” Tonks screamed, her tears mingling with the rain coursing down her face. “GELUMORSIS!”

   The black cloud erupted from her wand, and the rain inside it froze solid into thousands of tiny particles of razor-edged ice.

   Sirius only smiled more widely.

   Her voice raw and wracked with pain as she screamed the spell, pointing her wand straight at Sirius. There was a bang like a gunshot – and then every single frozen raindrop shot at Sirius like a million tiny knives.

   Sirius’ eyes narrowed slightly before a wall of flames erupted between him and the deadly hail. The frozen rain hissed into nothingness, but Tonks knew better and immediately dove sideways – a good thing, as Sirius had just returned all of the frozen water in a boiling torrent laced with magic.

   “You’re getting better,” Sirius hissed, blocking Tonks’ next spell with hardly any attention. “But you’re forgetting who has the reputation for transfiguration here!”

    He flicked his wand skyward, and a heap of gravel and dirt was pulled from the road – and transfigured into flickering, razor-edged knives without a second word. Tonks’ eyes only widened with horror as each knife blade began glowing acid green. Despite her rage, her gut plummeted as she prepared the best Shield Charm Moody had ever taught her, but from the amount of fine control that Sirius had, she knew it wouldn’t likely be enough. How the hell does he even know these spells –

   “The Dark Lord taught me well,” Sirius answered her unspoken question, his eyes glinting madly. “After all, I was one of his greatest supporters, skilled in all manners arcane – how else could I call lightning –”

   Lightning – that’s it!

   “ATRUM CHAIN LEVITAS!”

   Forked and twisting bolts of electricity leapt from Tonks’ wand, hitting the steel knives in mid-flight.  The water only made the spell more effective, leaping from knife to knife to –

   Pop.

   “Gotcha.”

   She froze, as she felt the cold edge of a knife press against her bare throat. The glare had blinded her – she hadn’t seen him Disapparate…

   “You’re mine,” Sirius whispered, and the knife glowed blue in his hands.

   Tonks responded like she would to anyone in her situation.

   She slammed her ankle into Sirius’ groin.

  But somehow, with a dexterity that Tonks knew only came from training, Sirius had shoved the blow aside, into the meat of his thigh. He grabbed her wrist before she could ram her fist into his solar plexus, but pulling backwards, she smashed her forehead into Sirius’ face, and she could feel the sodden crunch of a breaking nose. His grip loosened, and she pulled herself away –

   Only for Sirius to drive his glowing knife straight into the meat of Tonks’ shoulder.

   Tonks had only been placed under the Imperius Curse in training, and she remembered the blankness that she had felt. But this was no subtle, blankly vague happiness. This was an iron will of sheer corruption slamming into her mind, repressing it, attacking it, corrupting it…

   She staggered, her eyes rolling back into her head as she struggled to remain in control of her limbs. She was dimly aware of the cold hilt sticking like a thorn out of her shoulder, and that one of her bra straps had been severed. Hot sticky blood was flowing down her bare breast…

   Her wand dropped into the mud, and she felt her mind mist over as she looked dimly up at Sirius’ face, set with lust and madness. He slammed her bodily into the wall of the shed, his hand sliding up to grab her chest –

   “ACCIO SIRIUS BLACK!”

   She could hardly see the figure, her eyes were already glazing over as the mental presence forced itself deeper and deeper into her brain, but she could see Sirius being pulled away by the screamed spell…

   “But who…” she whispered to herself, her voice hardly her own. “Who would strike my Sirius… my Lord Black…”

   The rain trickled across her face, but she could hardly feel its chill. Numbness was filling her limbs, a heaviness that she couldn’t understand… like she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t remember where she was… or who she was… or why she had been here…

   HIS NAME IS HARRY POTTER.

   Her eyes snapped wide open, and she could feel the foulness in her mind reassert itself, but something – something golden – was blocking, a tenuous circular web protecting her core from the darkness…

   “Harry…” she whispered through white lips. Her fingers, stiff and rigid, clenched around the dagger and with an agonized scream, she yanked it free.

   It was like a massive veil had been lifted, and the colours seemed all the more vivid. The flames surrounding the Shrieking Shack had only grown higher, and two figures were dueling. Tonks could tell one of them was Lord – no, Sirius Black.

   The other was a woman, nearly nude but for the ragged, barely-fitting Auror robe. She was pretty enough, but there was something otherworldly about her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was matching Sirius Black spell for spell, a violent offensive that even seemed to catch him slightly off-guard.

   Or maybe it was because her eyes were blazing metallic silver in the harsh light, visible even from Tonks’ distance…

   Tonks could hardly restrain the rush of relief and fear that surged through her body as she realized the truth. The ritual had worked: Harry was alive –

   And his deranged godfather would have no compunctions killing him on the spot.

   She screamed out a warning, but Sirius was already raising his wand, his hoarse voice audible even through the roar of the flames and the pounding rain.

   “AVADA –”

   “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

   The second word of the curse died on Sirius’ lips as a massive silvery stag erupted from the wand. It was big, bigger than it ever should have been, and easily twice the height of a man. The stag pawed the ground for a few moments – and then charged.

   But why charge with a Patronus? Tonks thought frantically as she began running, trying to hold her bra with a modicum of modesty as she ran up the hill. It’s incorporeal, it can’t do anything –

   The words died on her lips as the stag’s horns, easily as thick as the knife she had been stabbed with, plunged through Sirius’ chest and stomach…

   And he screamed. Blood exploded from Sirius’ chest, the torrents silhouetting impossibly against the wall of flames behind them. The stag, sensing victory, lifted its massive head – with Sirius still impaled and howling upon it – and reared it back with a simple, unbelievable shrug of its silvery muscles, sending Sirius flying…

   Straight into a heap of firewood miraculously unconsumed by the raging fires only inches away from it.

   Tonks’ mouth fell open as the simulacrum’s eyes blazed golden for a second more – and then it collapsed in the dirt. Only a few feet away, Harry’s naked body stirred feebly.

   “Harry!” The word was torn from her lips as she rushed to his side. “What the… how did you…”

   “I know,” Harry whispered. “It all made sense… and I had to… Sirius!”

   Tonks’ eyes went wide as he scrambled to his feet and ran to the wood pile, where Sirius was lying, broken and bleeding out fast.

   “Harry, wait, he’s –”

   But Harry had already thrown himself on his godfather, who was coughing up thick spurts of blood, running down the side of his face.

   “I’m so sorry, Sirius,” he whispered, barely audible in the pounding rain, but Tonks heard the words, and the curse died on her lips.

   Sirius looked up, and for the first time in a long time, she saw the spark in his eyes flicker to life.

   “I know,” he murmured. “Thank you, Harry. You saved me.”

   He gave a great shuddering breath, the rain mixing with the blood on his face. Then he closed his eyes, and moved no more