MARKED

"You don't have surprise. They'll know you're coming; they already do."

THIRTY-THREE: Moody's Blueprints

There is only a certain amount of time that someone can stay angry at their best friend for, especially if their friendship is true. Ronald Weasley was running out of ways to skirt Harry in the corridors of Kingsley's deceptively spacious house and even Hermione, always the peacekeeper, had given up trying to bridge the gap between them. Indeed, she herself was becoming tired of covering up Harry's long absences to the rest of the Order by inventing 'long walks' and time to 'clear his head'.

"If you ask me," growled Mad Eye Moody one morning when Hermione had tried to explain, "if that boys head gets any clearer there'll be nothing left in it."

"He is spending an awful lot of time on his own," Mrs Weasley agreed concernedly.

Cassie Carpenter, who was curled up on a chair reading a book, nodded. "It's true; he did seem a little spaced out the other day when I spoke to him," she commented, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Like he'd seen a ghost or something."

"Well, I expect you would too if the fat of the free world rested on your shoulders," muttered Ron testily, jumping to Harry's defence before he even realised it.

Lupin glanced swiftly from Mr and Mrs Weasley to Ron and Hermione,

"Has something happened between you three?" he asked cautiously.

"No," Ron and Hermione replied quickly and in unison.

Lupin did not appear entirely satisfied with their answer, but he pressed the matter no further.

The turning point came later that evening when Harry returned quietly to the house after dark. It had been his third meeting with Snape since the first and, as per usual, Harry's mind felt as battered as his body. Snape seemed to have realised that the only way he could get a satisfactory reaction out of Harry was by taunting him. Naturally Harry attacked in anger, but on the third meeting he found himself beginning to control it.

"You may note that progress is being made, Potter, no matter how tiresome it may seem," Snape had said earlier.

"Tiresome?" Harry had spat, picking himself up off the ground for what felt like the hundredth time. "You have no idea."

He could not believe that Dumbledore had planned, had actually made damn sure, that he would be taught this way, knowing he would be subjected to insults and abuse. But what Harry was loathe to admit even to himself was that, no matter how much he reviled Snape, something was working. He had mastered a number of complex hexes and curses of, he assumed, Snape's own invention; not to mention there was a serious increase in power in all of his spells now that he was learning to channel his emotions in the right directions.

And now, in the dim glow of Kingsley's hallway, Harry shut the front door as quietly as he could, only to find himself face to face with Lupin.

"Remus …" Harry began, running a hand tiredly over his weary eyes.

"Where have you been?" Lupin asked. His tone was not accusatory but there was a definite edge to his voice.

Harry shook his head. "I … I just went for a –"

"Don't tell me you went for a walk, Harry, I wasn't born yesterday."

Harry sighed. He knew someone may figure out eventually that no one, not even Ghandi, could go for that many walks without becoming seriously bored, but he knew that he wasn't to tell anyone: what if Voldemort found out somehow and used Legilimency to see what Snape had been up to? Events would spiral out of control and all would be lost – Harry may as well tie up his own hands and drop on his knees in front of Voldemort straightaway.

"What have you done to your face?" Lupin exclaimed, indicating towards Harry's bruised jaw. Harry had not even noticed.

"It's nothing," he said, making to push past Lupin, but Lupin caught him by the shoulder.

"Do you want to know how I know you're lying, besides the obvious?"

Harry said nothing.

"Because your father was never any good at it either.

"Look, I –"

"Something's going on, isn't it? Ron and Hermione are acting strangely, too, and people are starting to notice."

Again, Harry said nothing.

"Harry, you need to tell me what –"

"– no, I don't."

Suddenly the tiredness was gone and Harry was angry.

"I don't need to tell anyone anything, Remus. Three months we spent, me, Ron and Hermione, and we destroyed three Horcruxes on our own without needing to tell everyone about it!"

"Nobody asked you to do this on your own, Harry …"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Harry said, struggling to keep his voice level. He had never had an argument with Lupin before. "We only came here because we had no choice, and yeah, OK, we needed help in the end, but this is my fight, Remus. I know everyone is involved and everyone's needed, but in the end, what it comes down to is me and him. So because of that, if I need to take some time out to do something that's going to help me stay alive, then I will, and I'm not obliged to tell the world about it!"

Lupin fell silent. He seemed to shrink slightly, and Harry noticed, not having meant to hurt his feelings.

"I'm only trying to help you, Harry."

Harry exhaled heavily. "I know you are. I know everyone is. But trust me; this is something I have to do, but it's not anything that needs to be shared right now."

There was an uncomfortable silence that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Then Lupin spoke.

"OK."

And he turned, walking back to the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the darkness of the hallway.

Feel the anger. Let it consume you without fighting it; let it flow through your veins, contained. Keep it there. Now, think of something that makes you feel the opposite and raise your wand, letting the strength that filled you a moment before flow down your arm. Use it. Now, say the incantation …

Harry relived what Snape had said to him earlier in the day. He was still a little perturbed by his confrontation with Lupin and was trying to control his emotions. However, Snape had told his this right after he had thrown him thirty feet into the air using a spell that, "the Dark Lord himself uses; none of the Death Eaters do," and had stated with malice that, "It would be prudent for you to know what if feels like so you have extra incentive to avoid it in the future." Harry's spells had been markedly more powerful after that.

So now he lay on his bed, rubbing a hand unconsciously across his bruised shoulders and back. He lay for what seemed like two minutes but actually spanned two hours. He was awoken by a gentle knock on the door.

Harry sat up, half hoping that it would be Ron, ready to put the whole stupid thing behind them. It'd be good to have someone to talk to about all the events that were taking place.

The door swung open and Cassie stood there, wearing a thin white top and faded blue jeans, a towel around her shoulders and her hair wet.

"Oh. Hi," said Harry, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

"Nah, it's OK," Harry said.

"I'm supposed to tell you that there's a meeting in five minutes in the kitchen. I think they've found something pretty useful, the way they were talking," she said, a trace of excitement in her voice. I remember when I used to get excited about finding new things out, Harry thought. And she's older than me.

"Really?" he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and wincing. Could he have cracked a rib?

"Are you alright?" she asked. "I know you're probably sick of hearing that. I know I would be."

A flicker of a smile passed across Harry's face. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"I'll live," he replied. "For the moment anyway."

Cassie sat down slowly on the very edge of his bed.

"You know, a few of us heard you talking to Remus," she said tentatively. "We weren't listening or anything, it was just hard to block out."

Harry said nothing. Would Cassie share Lupin's views and ask him where he was going?

"I think you're right," she said, taking him by surprise. "I think you do everything for a reason, and if there's a good one why you don't want everyone to know then it ought to be good enough for them."

Harry looked at her. "Thanks."

"But it won't be, though. Good enough, I mean. Because they're older than you they feel as though they ought to know everything; in charge or not."

"Hmm," Harry said. "I'm getting used to that."

There was a pause.

"So … are you coming to this meeting or not?" she asked.

"Sure," Harry said and went to stand up. "Ouch …" he muttered, the gasp of pain escaping his lips before he could stop it.

"You want me to take a look at that?" Cassie asked, indicating to his ribs.

"How did you know?"

Cassie smiled. "Woman's intuition."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, and I specialised in Healing during my Auror training," she added with a wry expression.

"That'll do it," Harry replied. "I think I'll be OK," he said unconvincingly.

Cassie looked at him doubtfully. "You'll get questioned again if you go down there with cracked bones, and they might not take no for an answer."

"How do you know they're cracked?" Harry asked, avoiding her point because he knew she was right.

"I don't, until I look."

Harry hesitated a moment, then gave in. "OK," he said, lifting up his torn t-shirt.

Cassie reached out and prodded his chest gently with two slender fingers.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No."

"How about here?"

"No."

Her touch was light and cool and Harry felt himself relaxing slightly for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"Hmm … then it must be … this one."

"Ouch."

Cassie turned and reached for her wand. As she did so, Harry caught a waft of her shampoo: fruity, or maybe that was her perfume? Whatever it was, there was something like cinnamon there too.

"OK," she said, peering at his ribs. "It'll feel a bit hot, then a bit cold, but it won't hurt."

Harry nodded apprehensively.

She touched him lightly with her wand. As she had said, his skin felt hot, then cold, then nothing.

"Better?" she asked.

Harry twisted left and right. The pain had gone.

"Yeah! Thanks, Cassie."

"No problem," she said with a smile, straightening up. "Anything else need fixing?"

Harry paused. "Er … well, my shoulders are a bit sore." He could still smell her perfume.

Cassie half-smiled. "That's nothing that a massage won't cure."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again. What was he supposed to say to that?

She saved him from searching for an answer by heading for the door.

"See you downstairs."

Harry watched her go with a slight frown.

The kitchen was nearly full when Harry came in. Everyone was there: all 9 of the Weasleys including Fred and George who waved; Kingsley, Lupin, Moody, Cassie, Elphias Dodge, Walton and Sloane; the rest Harry only knew by sight. He had been introduced before but the names were all a blur. He also noted, with some surprise, that Professor McGonagall was present. This was a big meeting.

"Good to see you, Potter," she said curtly.

"Evening, Professor," Harry replied as he sat down next to Hermione with Ron on her other side.

"Alright, Potter? Nice walk?" muttered moody from the head of the table.

"Marvellous," Harry replied sarcastically. He no longer cared if they believed him or not.

"Well, now Potter is present, I'll let you all know that we're expecting a delegation from the Ministry to be arriving by Floo very shortly."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"I'll tell you that when they get here, Potter," Moody replied. "The Minister himself has also consented to come. However, judging from what our last meeting yielded, he will not be calling any of the shots."

"What's this about, Mad Eye?" said Mr Weasley this time.

"When they get here, Arthur."

A fairly uncomfortable silence followed this announcement. Harry was aware that there were lots of pairs of eyes upon him. Professor McGonagall leaned forwards.

"How have you been keeping, Potter?" she asked crisply.

"Fine, thanks."

"That's a nasty bruise you've got there on your jaw."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" This time it was Hermione who answered. "I've told Harry to be more careful when he opens that bathroom door …"

"Leave it, Hermione," said Ron in a low voice.

At that moment, there was a whooshing sound from the grate in the kitchen fireplace and suddenly, five men shot out, one of which was the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Ah. Right on time, Rufus," said Moody, checking his watch, his magical eye spinning in its socket.

"Alistor," he said. His eyes scanned the room and rested on Harry, but he did not say anything to anyone else. Harry remembered their last meeting vividly.

The other four men stooped out of the fireplace. They were well dressed, powerful looking men, thought Harry. Moody raised his hand to all of them in recognition and then turned to the Order.

"This is Hector Maltings, Head of the Foreign Wizarding Communications Sector. Kevin Cuttings, newly appointed Head of the Auror Division, and with him Arnold Batty and Billius Dodgkinson, who are representatives for the Unspeakables."

They all nodded mutely, sitting down on the chairs provided. Harry recognised none of them with the exception of Scrimgeour.

"What's the game here, Moody?" said Scrimgeour a little impatiently .Close to, Scrimgeour seemed to have diminished slightly in every sense possible: he seemed a great deal older than when Harry had last seen him and spoke, although it was not without derision, in a somewhat fainter voice compared with his previously powerful and commanding tone. In short, he looked as though he had lost his direction and was fighting to keep it, but failing steadily, like an old lion losing his pride.

Moody cleared his throat.

"Thanks to the cooperation of the Ministry," he said with a courteous nod to the delegation, "I'll come straight to the point and say that we know where You Know Who's Headquarters are."

There was an outbreak of surprised muttering. Harry stared at Moody, who held his hand up for silence so he could continue.

"Are you serious, Moody?" said someone doubtfully.

"We think we've found the main HQ, yes. Obviously there are other cells dotted all over the place, much like any other terrorist organisation, but we think we've got the main lair. And we think that's where there will be things of great interest."

He glanced at Harry, who took this to mean the snake: Nagini.

"So, what do you propose we do?" asked Bill, running a hand over his scarred face.

"Storm it, naturally," Moody said with the air of suggesting a quiet Sunday stroll through the park.

"Storm it?" repeated Lupin incredulously. "You want us to waltz in and storm Voldemort's main Headquarters just like that?"

"We won't be waltzing anywhere, Lupin," came Moody's sharp reply. "Plus, it is very unlikely that You Know Who himself will be there. There'll be a nice nest of Death Eaters we can haul in for questioning, probably a whole array of weaponry and, if we're lucky, plans as to what he's planning to do next. There may also be a couple of bonus items that'll make one of our jobs considerably easier …"

"And what might these items be?" said Scrimgeour sharply.

"Never you mind," growled Moody.

There was a pause as this proposal sank in around the group.

"It sounds awfully dangerous, Mad Eye," said Mrs Weasley, her brown eyes wide with trepidation.

"Of course it's dangerous, Molly. That's what war is all about. But I'd rather we bring the fight to the enemy, wouldn't you?"

Some nodded. Others continued to watch Moody cautiously. The drastic news appeared to have shaken some, who were probably expecting nothing more than the routine weekly updates.

"So. When the Ministry granted us unlimited access to Azkaban we were able to obtain certain information. We gleaned, from none other than Nymphadora Tonks," (Lupin's face darkened) "who would be most likely to be the Secret Keeper."

"She can't be trusted," Lupin said shortly, not looking at any of them. "I think she's proven that."

"I'm aware of your personal feelings on this, Remus, which is why you weren't with us. Trustworthy, no. Useful? Perhaps. Nevertheless, we extracted the whereabouts with necessary force –"

"– I hope you're not asking me to sanction the beating of a prisoner, Moody," said Scrimgeour sharply. Harry had a feeling he was trying to cover his own back and had no actual feelings for the prisoners.

"Not at all, Rufus. Mind you, when the Dementors used to guard Azkaban I imagine that every single one of the prisoners would have taken daily beatings, given a choice."

There was a moment where Harry was sure Scrimgeour was going to shout, but he did not. Instead, he smiled grimly. "Touché."

"After skilled Legilimency, we had our answer," Moody finished. "So … I have here a set of blue-prints –"

"Who was the Secret Keeper?" Harry cut across, a great sense of unease settling in his chest.

Moody looked up from the blue-prints. "Lucius Malfoy."

Harry frowned. "So, Malfoy just told you where you'd find it?" he asked sceptically.

Moody raised his eyebrows. "Not exactly. The word I'd use, Potter, is reluctantly."

"Why have you brought us in on this, Mad Eye?" asked Maltings, speaking for the first time.

"Because we need backup now and most definitely will in the future. I say there's no time like the present. You, Hector, are just the man for the job. If Mr Cuttings here could provide us with some more bodies, it would be greatly appreciated."

Scrimgeour sat forwards. "And if I refuse? If I refuse to lend you my resources?" he said coldly.

"Then I'd consider you a fool, Rufus," said Moody. "I need Batty and Dodgkinson to round up as many Wizarding Militia near the place as possible, in case the buggers get outside our perimeter. I assume you have that power?"

Both Batty and Dodgkinson nodded solemnly. Harry now had a good idea of what the Unspeakables were used for; almost like the wizarding version of MI5.

Moody spread the blue-prints out on the surface of the mahogany table. He flicked his wand and uttered an incantation Harry could not hear. Then, the blue-prints were projected onto a white wall in front of the table, as though fired from an overhead projector. Moody traced the blue-prints with his wand; the projection mirrored his movements.

"How did you get these?" asked Cassie in a hushed voice.

"It's an accurate structure after we scraped every last drop out from the scum's head. This," he said, pointing at the centre of the print where a maze of tunnels snaked across each other, "is the main HQ. The entrance, we believe, is here, but there may be access from here. It's sitting inside this cliff on the edge of the Scottish wilderness known as Caithness."

"Scotland? That's where they're hiding out?" said Elphias Dodge.

"It's a perfect spot," piped up Mr Weasley. "Caithness is one of the only places in Great Britain where there are no records of any wizard dwellings. It's far away enough, but still within Apparating distance of the hotspots."

"Exactly," agreed Moody. "This is why we ought to strike. I propose we send in Auror scouts to secure the entrances from the Division. Then send in the Order and the best scouts we can rustle up from overseas. I'd want the Militia that you can sort on the outskirts, forming a net," he said, looking to Maltings.

Kevin Cuttings nodded. "All very well, Moody, but I don't want to send in my best scouts so they can get massacred before any others set foot in the place."

"But we will have the element of surprise," pressed Moody. "They won't know we're coming. And I need the best in first."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He wasn't remotely afraid of the Minister or his people, but he didn't want his words to be spread like wildfire across the wizarding world, as was possible. He also got the distinct impression that Moody was trying to keep a certain amount of information from Scrimgeour.

"Very well. Supply us with copies of those blue-prints and write me a written brief of what your plans are, and I'll see what I can do," said Cuttings.

Hector Maltings leaned forward. "The best people I can offer you at such short notice are the Americans; they're always ready for action. I doubt I can persuade the French; they'd take over a week of very public negotiations, as would the Italians. I might be able to rustle you up a couple of young Spanish Aurors, but no promises. Other countries are still sceptical about much involvement: Greece, for example. They think if they keep their noses clean and their peckers in the sand then You Know Who will leave them alone."

"They'll figure it all out soon enough," said Kingsley darkly in his deep, booming voice.

"How many men can you guarantee me by tomorrow?" asked Moody briskly.

Maltings furrowed his brow. "Thirty guaranteed. Maybe more, if we're lucky. But I'll need a full brief, Moody."

"Done."

Scrimgeour stood up. "Well. It seems that you are taking my men with or without my permission," he said sourly. "Why did you even bring me here?"

"Because it was courteous, Rufus," answered Moody pleasantly. "And to show you that Arthur and the others are all doing their job, which means they still get paid."

Scrimgeour's jaw tightened. "Quite."

"We don't want any of this reported," said Charlie suddenly.

"I don't have that kind of power," Scrimgeour snapped.

Hermione cleared her throat and leant forward ever so slightly. "Actually, I think you've shown that you do, Minister. Remember?"

Scrimgeour turned the colour puce, and Harry knew she was reminding him of the time when he had insisted Scrimgeour stop the Prophet from headlining front page news every time he so much as sneezed.

"If this goes well, it might even give them something good to report for a change," muttered McGonagall from the corner.

With a scowl, Scrimgeour turned and disappeared without another word into the fire. He was shortly followed by Maltings, Cuttings, Dodgkinson and Batty, who bid everyone goodnight before being consumed by the roar of green flames.

"Right, now that they've gone," Moody said, and a few heads turned in his direction. "I should state that the aim of this mission, pure and simple, is to find that snake and rip its head off, which is why Potter is coming with us. I want as little skirmish as possible: we won't have nearly enough man power yet. But I want to move fast on this. Seeing as we have surprise in our favour –"

"– you don't," Harry said shortly. He had been thinking about everything that had been said and discovered, listening intently and mulling it over. Something was wrong; he was sure of it.

"What was that, Potter?" said Moody.

"You haven't got surprise. They'll know you're coming. They already do. He's planned it this way."

"And what makes you say that?" said Sloane tiredly.

Harry opened his mouth, someone else who spoke. Ron.

"Lucius Malfoy telling you all that? It's too easy."

Mrs Weasley seemed to be on the verge of reprimanding her son before seemingly deciding that he had made a valid point.

"Weasley, I know you've done a lot since you left school," said McGonagall in a pacifying way, "but this has been examined by the experts. If the Order deems it necessary –"

"– What's the protocol for questioning prisoners?" asked Hermione, cutting off McGonagall, something she would never have done in class at Hogwarts. "I mean, do you have to contact them in advance?"

Moody sighed and raised a hand for Walton to explain, who had been to Azkaban to review security.

"Security has since been tightened. It may interest you to know that it was when you three got in under false names earlier in the year that we changed things."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"You have to alert the guards the day before if you are from the public, and then provide evidence for your visit and identification. Because of our ability to pull some strings, we were allowed in four hours after making the call –"

"Four hours was too long," Harry said wearily. "Voldemort has spies among Azkaban; he must have. Malfoy's leaked stuff about me before to the papers and he couldn't have done that without help."

"So what are you saying, Harry?" asked Mr Weasley.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione before speaking. "It's just … so unlikely!"

"So we should halt the mission because you have a hunch that it's … unlikely?" said someone from the shadows, whose name Harry could not remember.

"Let him speak, Flinghammer!" said Mrs Weasley sharply. "What do you mean, dear?"

Harry shook his head. "Look, I know Voldemort, alright? And this is just … just screaming out as a classic. He knows we know about his Horcruxes, right? So he knows we'll have stepped up our attempts to find them: he can't get the Death Eaters and Malfoy out with only a couple of spies, not with all the new security –"

"– and four hours is ample time to get a message through one spy and back to the Big Cheese," said Ron. "Harry's right; there's something up."

Harry looked at him and their eyes met. Had Ron just stuck up for him? Suddenly, Harry felt more confident. Between him, Ron and Hermione, the three of them probably knew more about Voldemort than the entire Order combined.

"So, what are you saying? We were supposed to find out where the HQ is? Why would he give that away?" asked Charlie.

"I'm just saying it wouldn't have been difficult to get word out for instructions and Malfoy be told to just 'let slip' about this place."

Moody clicked his tongue. "I thought you would have been first out the door on this, Potter, a chance to get that snake finally out the way. Then you can take the fight to You Know Who himself!" he barked.

"I don't think Harry's quite ready for that, Mad Eye," said Mrs Weasley quietly.

"He doesn't have a choice, Molly." This time it had been Lupin who spoke. Harry spread his hands on the table.

"Look, I'm all for taking the fight to Voldemort, and maybe I am ready. God knows he's blighted my life long enough for me to want this to be over with as soon as possible. But it's just that … I don't know, don't you think he'd guard his last Horcrux a bit more carefully? If he'd known Malfoy could be forced to give up that information, wouldn't he have found a way to shut him up by now?"

Moody snorted. "Perhaps, but it wasn't easy information to get. We didn't just stroll in and say 'excuse us, Mr Malfoy, sir, would be so kind as to help us dismantle your boss's entire organisation?' After the Minister's cooperation, we had access to some of the best known Legilimens' on the planet."

Hermione let out a breath and looked around her. "There's also the possibility that he's made more Horcruxes …" she said in a hushed tone, as though unwilling to voice such a proposition.

"Ah, on that note, we don't think that he has," said Cassie. "After what Harry told us about how You Know Who makes his Horcruxes we've had people all over the Underground listening out for any theft of valuable artefacts and things and there's been nothing."

There was a beat. Then –

"Look, Potter, I understand your concerns. Of course there are risks; that's what this job is all about and it sure as hell doesn't get any easier. But we'll have a lot of manpower once Maltings comes up with the goods. Even if we don't find your snake, there may be something there that we can use against You Know Who and some Death Eaters worth getting rid of. What do you say?"

Harry knew that the Order was going in with or without him. Perhaps he was being over-cautious; what if they did get hold of Nagini once and for all? Then that would be it: there would be nothing left between him and Voldemort. He suddenly wondered what Snape would have to say about this mission.

"It'd be useful to have you, Potter," Moody pressed. "Not only are you another body but you've seen the brute before, if I recall correctly."

"In the disgusting flesh," Harry nodded grimly, remembering vividly being tied to the tombstone in the graveyard and having the snake slither around him, hoping he would be her next meal.

"He's also You Know Who's biggest target," said McGonagall. "We could be playing right into their hands."

"He's Voldemort's only target," said Lupin quietly, still not looking at Harry. "Once Harry's out the way, he'd think there would be no one left to fight."

"He'd be wrong," growled Moody venomously. "And in any case, the boy's old enough to look after himself. In or out, Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes for a second, aware that everyone was looking at him. Why did he feel so badly about all this? The Order wasn't stupid; they'd know a trap when they saw one.

Wouldn't they?

Maybe he was being irrational.

But you know Voldemort, said a voice inside his head. And he knows you.

Either way, Moody was right about one thing: they did need him. Trap or not.

"In."

There was a visible ripple of agreement around the table, but Harry wasn't finished.

"But I want Ron and Hermione there, too."

An instant hush. Then –

"But it would be unnecessary to –"

"– raise your hand in this room if you have tracked down, seen and helped to destroy a Horcrux."

One of the loudest silences Harry had even heard followed this pronouncement as Ron and Hermione slowly raised their hands like Harry. He waited a few seconds to make his point and then lowered his hand.

"I think it's totally necessary. Don't you?"

No one answered. Mr Weasley was staring into his empty glass but Charlie leant forward.

"Ron, bro, you can't –"

"I can, if it helps Harry. And that's the end of it."

In that moment, Harry was more proud than he had ever been to have Ronald Weasley as his best friend. Here, in front of his whole family, he had stood his ground for his best friend when he didn't have to, and Harry would never be able to express in words just how much he appreciated it.

Moody nodded, more to himself than anyone else it seemed.

"Right then. I'll be up all night making the arrangements. We'll leave tomorrow morning at 6:30 a.m sharp via Portkeys to Caithness, where we'll go over the final logistics. Any questions? No? Good. Get some rest, all of you. Don't be late."

The company left the table sporadically in dribs and drabs.

"How's school, Professor?" Harry heard Hermione ask McGonagall as the Headmistress gathered her tartan handbag.

"It's quiet, Granger," McGonagall said with a sniff. "Too quiet, if you understand my meaning. Students are worried. There are hardly any detentions these days, almost as though they forget to misbehave. I get besieged with questions about you three," she added irritably with a glare towards Harry, as though this was his fault. "However, I shall be pleased to report that all is well."

Half an hour later Harry was sitting on his bed in the darkness, thinking about what was going to happen in the morning. Could it nearly all be over? This time tomorrow could he be preparing for the fight of his life and the possible freedom that would follow?

There was a knock at the door and Ron poked his head around the frame.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah. It's your room too."

Ron came into the room.

"Thanks for what you did in there," Harry said, staring at his shoelaces. It … well, it means a lot."

Ron half-shrugged as he sat down on his own bed. "S'the least I could do."

Silence. They were both supposed to be adults now; why was this so difficult?

"Look, Harry. What I said –"

"– forget it."

"No, I don't want to forget it. I was out of line –"

"– actually, you were right. But that's why …" Harry paused. It was hard to voice that Ron had been right in a way, because he didn't want to turn into the person he had been accused of becoming. "… That's why I need you on my side," he said slowly.

"I am on your side, Harry," Ron answered in a soft voice. "I just … I dunno, I just get scared sometimes … like scared of you getting hurt by Snape and yelling at you was how I dealt with it.

Harry grinned. "Just as long as you don't yell at Hermione. We don't want you to end up in hospital."

Ron chuckled and the door opened again. It was Hermione. From one look at Harry and Ron, she could tell that things had been sorted. Predictably, she started to cry.

"Hermione, don't –" Ron began.

She threw her hands up in despair. "The pair of you are just so …what if something happened? What if something happened and you weren't speaking to each other?" she demanded.

"Ever the optimist," Harry muttered quietly.

Hermione plonked herself down next to Ron and wiped her eyes.

Ron cleared his throat. "So … how's it been with Snivellus?"

Harry could tell that Ron had wanted to ask this question for well over a week.

"Awful," Harry answered truthfully. "But useful."

"I suppose that's where you got that from?" Hermione asked, indicating to Harry's jaw.

Harry nodded. "I don't know … it's like, I know he's on our side, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"And you still don't think we can tell anyone?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head.

"He's only trying to save his own skin," Ron pointed out. "I mean, if people knew about him and it got back to You Know Who then he'd be mincemeat."

"True. But if he's killed, who's going to teach me Death Eater type spells? Who can show me exactly what's up the enemy's sleeve?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno … Lupin, maybe?"

Harry shook his head. "He'd be too nice. And besides, since when has he had access to Death Eater spells? I hate it, and I'd rather it was anyone but him, but I don't have a choice."

Hermione was frowning thoughtfully. "I suppose it makes sense. I mean, I know he … he killed Dumbledore, but he sort of had to, didn't he? And he is a very good wizard, especially as he'll have access to illegal spells and unregistered curses we don't know about. It must give you some idea of what you'll be up against, Harry."

Harry nodded, letting her words wash over him. It felt good to talk about Snape after keeping it so close to the chest for the past week.

"Does he push you around?" Ron asked abruptly.

"In a manner of speaking."

"Do you still hate his guts?"

"Violently."

"Well at least some things never change," Ron said, a trace of amusement in his voice.

The door creaked open and they all stopped talking quickly. Fred and George stood in the doorway; their faces alight with a feverish delight that suggested they were up to no good.

"Alright, you three?" said Fred brightly.

"Hi," Harry replied with a smile.

"What were you two doing in the meeting?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

George beamed. "We've gone up with the world, Granger, so there's no need for that look."

"And don't worry, Harry, we aren't here to question you about your covert strolls –"

"– no, we'll leave that to our dear sister."

"What do you mean, 'you've gone up in the world'?" asked Ron, fiddling absent minded with Hermione's hair.

"Remember our Defence Merchandise from the joke shop?" Fred said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Well, we've improved it" George stated proudly. "We got a truck load of orders from the ministry last week, but we've told Moody that we can get him some of our high quality stuff for free, you know, to help out."

"We've just been going through it with him now."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"

"Remember the Instant Peruvian Darkness powder? Well, it's much more instant –"

"– and dark."

"And it comes with a small chewy pill, lemon flavour incidentally, that gives the thrower perfect vision through the powder."

"Handy," Harry said.

"And we've developed our Shield Hats to Shield Covering Body Parts –"

"– arms, legs, crown jewels, you name it –"

"Except now you can also have Reflecto Hats –"

"– also for arms, legs, crown jewels, you name it –"

"– which reflect the spell fired at you back to the original caster. I mean, it wouldn't work on You Know Who or anything, but it'd be handy for those brainless Death Eaters."

"Cool," said Harry and Ron together.

"That's brilliant magic," Hermione praised, her suspicious expression vanishing in a moment.

"Thank you, Hermione," said Fred with a flourish. "Mum can't stop hugging us."

"Yeah, you'd think she thought we'd end up washing dishes in the Leaky Cauldron or something," said Fred disbelievingly as Ron snorted.

"Are you coming tomorrow, then?" Harry asked.

Fred shook his head. "Nah, we're not allowed."

"We don't have your special status," George said sarcastically.

"Mind you, joking aside, I'd want to have you three along with me on something like this after everything that's happened," Fred said seriously.

George nodded. "Here, here."

"Fred! George!" came Mrs Weasley's voice from upstairs. "There are dishes to be done if you're not doing anything useful!"

Fred looked dispiritedly at his twin. "Backtrack. I guess we are dishwashers."

"No rest for the talented," George agreed.

With self-satisfied beams, the twins rose as one and trudged down the stairs, leaving a silence behind them. Ron turned to Harry.

"So … what do you think?"

Harry didn't have to ask what Ron was talking about to know he was referring to the morning's mission.

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily. "I think it's a mistake," he said after a pause.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, almost as though it's too good to be true," she said thoughtfully.

"Still, we have to go though, don't we?" Ron said. "We might be able to help."

Harry smiled grimly. "If this goes down like the Order says it will and it is the right place, I want to be there to see it burnt to the bloody ground. I've earned that much."

A/N: Still reading? I know that was a long chapter, so if you are, thanks! I've pretty much planned the whole ending, so just to let you know that there will probably be five more chapters. Then that's it! What thinkest thou of this one?

I know I haven't been replying to you guys much, and I'm really sorry for that, I'll try and do it after I post this one, as I REALLY appreciate your comments. Love you guys!

Rosie

Next time … The mission goes down, but not as expected, and power will change hands at the top. Harry realises he has to start doing things his way.