Harry’s heart hammered inside his chest and the palms of his hands felt uncommonly sweaty. He was alone in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, and everything was (so far) going according to plan. Harry knew that this could change at any moment – Merlin knew that almost everything had gone wrong. But Snape had provided information that Voldemort was ready to attempt to lure Harry into the Department of Mysteries… that had worked.

But what if the blood wards don’t protect Percy? We should have made them as strong as they were at the Burrow… Harry could not help these thoughts, even though he knew that the wards Dumbledore had created were exactly what they needed. No one who was not a family member of Percy’s – Harry could not even enter – could penetrate the wards without extreme pain. And whatever else the Weasleys might be, they were not supporters of Voldemort.

Yet Harry was frustrated and worried. Many different things clamored for his attention; he was actually least worried about the duel with Voldemort. Even if Harry was struck by the Killing Curse, that was hardly the worst that could happen. Indeed, every day Harry realized more and more the truth: Dumbledore had always been right. There were far worse things than death. And Harry was lucky enough to stumble across loads of them…

“Er – Harry?” Mr. Weasley’s voice.

Harry gritted his teeth. With an effort, he turned his head and stared at a point on the wall several inches to the left of Mr. Weasley’s head. Harry thought that he had progressed rather well from just under a month ago when he had steadfastly refused to be in the same room as them, or even the same house. He could not, however, make eye contact. It hurt too much, that first moment… it was hard to remember that this Mr. Weasley was not his Mr. Weasley, the one who had been like a father to him.

“Yes?” Harry said flatly.

“Do you know where Ron and Ginny are?” he asked.

“I expect they’re at Godric’s Hollow,” Harry replied. He turned away; he had given all of the Weasleys the secret two days before, though he had had to fight his own bitterness.

“Is it all right if I…?”

“It isn’t my house,” Harry said. He wished Mr. Weasley would just leave. He didn’t want to see them… he didn’t want to have to talk to them. “Go if you want.”

“Thank you,” the older man said. But he made no move to join his children, and Harry felt a sick sense of dread. Don’t talk about it, don’t mention it, and don’t ask me about it. “Harry… Molly and I – we want you to know that… we – we should have listened. We’re so… we’re really sorry.”

This was the moment that he had been dreading since he sent the Weasleys into the Pensieve. He absolutely did not want to hear their apologies. This urge was so strong that Harry had to use all his might to not silence Mr. Weasley with his wand. “There isn’t anything to forgive,” Harry finally forced out. And yet he had a coiled mass of grief, pain, and anger in his belly with the Weasley name on it.

Mr. Weasley seemed to know this. “I may have been blind, but I can see that—“

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Harry insisted. That was the problem. Other than the way they had treated Ginny and Ron, they hadn’t done anything wrong. But at the same time, they had ruined everything. There was no chance at closure; no way to resolve these issues. There could be no way of going back to the way things were because they had never been.

Harry was immensely relieved when Mr. Weasley left. He did not, not need another item on his plate. His invisibility cloak was still missing… Umbridge hadn’t written that damn article and Snape had been forced to carry around a Portkey just in case Voldemort found out the truth and tried to kill him… they couldn’t possibly make absolute certain that it had, in fact, been the Longbottoms who had erased Dumbledore’s and Snape’s memories, and inadvertently killed Rookwood. There were too many damn complications. And, on top of all of that, Percy was maintaining his silence.

Harry looked sourly at his cup of tea. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that Voldemort was not a damn Legilimens. Kreacher did not know Occlumency; therefore, they had to make sure that he told the truth as much as possible just in case… so Harry had placed Sirius under the Imperius Curse on several different occasions (Ron had done it too, though that had been primarily just for fun), they had staged a loud discussion about how glad they were that Percy was actually on their side, and also that they had not had any contact with him since the beginning.

Harry did not like the necessity of using someone he cared for as bait, and he had a horrible feeling that things would go very wrong.

The next two days were spent anxiously pacing, pulling at hair, and being soothed by Ginny. Harry was prepared to drop everything at any moment and race off to the Ministry – this time with Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Moody all in tow. Harry repressed the urge to send Percy a Patronus practically every ten minutes. But the Death Eaters were watching, Harry knew, and no one wanted them to see how the Order of the Phoenix communicated.

It only made things worse when Percy stopped coming to work. This had been entirely expected; the Death Eaters who worked for the Ministry were quick to cast suspicion on him. Percy had had to hole himself up in his small, Order-funded home… but what if?

Harry wandered around Grimmauld Place, pacing, and wishing that Voldemort would get on with it. It finally happened at seven o’clock in the evening while Harry was having a shower. His scar blazed with pain, and he fell over, clutching his head. He could see Percy’s face, hear Percy’s screams…

He left the bathroom at a dead run, threw on underpants and a robe. “IT’S TIME!” he bellowed. Doors flew open. Remus, back from Bulgaria, came out of one of the rooms… followed by Tonks, who was remarkably disheveled. Harry probably would have laughed, but this was not the moment to tease Remus.

“You’re certain we can’t go with you?” Remus asked.

“Should I head to the Ministry?” Tonks asked at the same moment.

“Yes, I’m sure. And, no, don’t go to the Ministry… alert Kingsley and tell him to bring muffle the wards… Merlin knows we don’t want Scrimgeour showing up when we don’t want him to,” Harry said.

“But what about—“

“Ron’s father is doing that,” Harry said grimly. “It’s a good thing – it’ll look less – less – oh, I don’t know.”

“Sent the message to Dumbledore!” Ron said. “He’ll send Fawkes to Percy’s house… get him out of there… Hermione, are you sure you want to come?”

“Yes, Ronald,” Hermione said testily.

“No need to bite my head off, woman,” Ron said.

“Are we forgetting anything?” Harry asked. “Wards… Percy… Dumbledore… Ron, have you told your father?”

“Yes,” Ron said. “Just the Patronus, I didn’t make it talk.”

“Right,” Ginny said. “So now we wait.”

Kingsley’s lynx, Dumbledore’s phoenix, and Mr. Weasley’s weasel all arrived at almost exactly the same moment. Harry took several deep breaths, Disillusioned himself, and gripped Ginny’s hand while she did the same.

“Are you leaving? Is this the moment?” Mrs. Weasley sounded very anxious. “Ginny, are you sure—“

“I’m going, Mum,” Ginny said sharply. Harry took this to mean that Mrs. Weasley had attempted to talk her out of going. Apparently she did not yet fully and truly comprehend the fact that her daughter was not actually fourteen years old. Harry ignored the fact that he, too, was guilty of wanting to keep her out of danger as much as possible.

Ginny turned on the spot and took Harry with her to the Atrium. It was silent and almost completely deserted, except for two weary looking witches who were scrambling into hearths. He gazed down the long walk toward the lifts, and saw Arthur Weasley standing in one just before the doors closed. Good, Harry thought.

They set off swiftly toward the lifts, and rode down in tense silence. Harry could hear Hermione breathing heavily through her nose… this would be her first real taste of combat outside of a controlled environment. The lift doors opened on Level Nine; Harry gave Ginny’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Only five seconds passed before Harry realized that another set of heavy, clanging footsteps joined them. Harry’s entire body tensed up, and he jerked to a halt.

“It’s me, Potter,” Moody said in a gruff whisper.

“Prove it,” Harry said. He pointed his wand in the direction of the voice.

“Hedwig died that night too,” Moody said cagily, referring to his own death.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Came to fight,” Moody said.

Harry paused to think about this, and then shrugged. “All right. Get Bellatrix Lestrange – don’t kill her, but take her down and make sure she won’t get up again for a while.”

“I’m here too,” Dumbledore murmured. “I like the odds of this better – six on… twelve, was it?”

Ron snorted. “More like about five hundred to twelve, Albus, with you here. Hermione wanted to get some experience…”

“I’m quite all right with Albus being here, Ron,” Hermione said quickly. Ron laughed, and even Harry grinned. It felt a lot merrier to have Dumbledore here… Harry realized that they had never really fought beside each other before. Dumbledore was either rescuing him from certain death and Harry was unable to move, or Dumbledore was… rescuing him from certain death and Harry was unable to move.

“I think this might actually be fun,” Ginny mused.

They stopped in front of the door that led to the Department of Mysteries. All six of them paused for a moment. Harry was certain that the others were thinking of the ramifications of what they did this night. Harry, who had agonized over his encounter with Voldemort last year, was confident that they were doing the right thing, and relieved that this day was finally here.

Harry grasped the knob, and pushed the door open. As soon as they entered the room with spinning doors, Harry immediately lifted the charm that made him invisible. The invisibility cloak would be so much more convenient, he though sourly. The room stopped spinning, and Ginny marched forward and opened the first door she came to with her wand. It was not the Hall of Prophecy, but was the room in which the Unspeakables researched time. Harry wondered what they would make of him, Ginny, and Ron using the Tears of Merlin…

Harry frowned when the door that appeared next was the one that was always kept locked… where the Unspeakables studied the most terrible force in the universe: love. Something tickled at his brain, but before it could form a real thought, the doors changed again, and Ginny opened it to reveal the Hall of Prophecy.

They formed a loose square with Harry at the head, and Ron in the rear. Ginny and Hermione walked side by side… for any Death Eaters observing them the four were completely alone. Harry could not even tell where Dumbledore and Moody were.

“Percy?” Harry called. He tried to sound panicked, but he mostly sounded like he was trying to impersonate a girl. He hoped the Death Eaters did not notice this. “Percy – where are you?”

They quickly made their way to where Harry’s prophecy was. Harry thought he might have heard Dumbledore and Moody break away from them, but he could not be sure it was not the beating of his own heart. “This has my name on it,” Harry said softly. “Do you – do you think this is the prophecy?”

He reached out and grabbed it.

Quiet footsteps approached, and Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione banded together, preparing to battle. As soon as Harry could see the masks in the dim light, he shouted “NOW!”

What followed next was – and this was the only word for it – a rout. The Death Eaters had not expected to be blasted, cut, bludgeoned, or turned inside out. “Remember not to kill them, Ron,” Harry had to remind him several times. The Death Eaters also did not expect to have two full-grown wizards (one of the Dumbledore) countering their ambush.

“Well,” Harry said, staring down at Bellatrix Lestrange. Her eyes were glassy, and she bled from her ears… but she was still alive. Only one Death Eater had died… and that had been the case of friendly fire. “That was much easier than I expected it to be.”

Ron kicked Bellatrix in the stomach; he apparently could not help himself.

“Are any of them even well enough to be Imperiused?” Ginny asked doubtfully.

“Ennervate!” Dumbledore said, and Nott opened his eyes. “Imperio!”

Nott raised his right hand and pressed his finger to his Dark Mark, and Harry thought he might have been better off with grievous injuries. He did not think the elderly man would withstand Azkaban. He couldn’t muster up much pity.

“I suppose it’s time,” Harry said. And just to be certain that he would not be leaving his wife and friends with sneaking snakes, Harry tied them together. They were bound so tightly together that even if one of them were only pretending, that Death Eater would not be able to do anything. “Stay here until you get the warning.”

Ginny gave him her blazing look, and he pressed a kiss against her lips. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Harry promised.

“I know,” she said.

He walked away.

Harry had known beyond a shadow of a doubt that Voldemort would not be able to stop himself from checking on the progress of his servants, especially as one of them had pressed the Dark Mark. The lift doors opened, and the Atrium was even darker and more silent than it had been when they had first arrived. He breathed a sigh of relief that Ginny had not insisted that she come with him… he did not want her anywhere near Voldemort.

The prophecy glowed a little in the gloom, and Harry’s footsteps echoed loudly. As he walked, he cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm all around the edges of where they would duel. Voldemort would be fooled into thinking they were alone… Mr. Weasley had already cast the Compulsion Charm that would encourage the Aurors and the Ministry workers not to step in. He gazed at the statue of the wizard, the witch, the centaur, and the house-elf. He grinned at the smallest figure, thinking of Dobby. It would be fitting to use this one…

Harry tucked the prophecy into his robes, and focused once more on his Obfuscomency. He had been forced to adjust it a bit… he hid the real memories he had of both times that he had come to the Ministry, planting a false one for Voldemort to find, made stronger by the fact that he wove the two memories together. He hoped it would survive the onslaught, and if Voldemort chose to possess him again…

Harry waited, as silent and still as the statue next to him. A flicker of motion caught his eye, and he saw Dumbledore standing in the shadows outside the protective circle of the charms. A moment later and the shadows seemed to coalesce, and Voldemort appeared without making a sound. It was staged perfectly… almost the instant Voldemort made his entrance Cornelius Fudge did as well, followed by Rufus Scrimgeour. As soon as he saw them, Harry pointed his wand and animated the statue of the house-elf. And he focused all his attention on the forthcoming duel.

Voldemort strode purposefully down the long Atrium… until he noticed that he was being followed. The serpent-faced man bent over the elf, and looked around. He did not notice that the Atrium was slowly filling with people who were under the compulsion to remain and bear witness. He leaned over the elf – and moment now, he would begin to move away from it, certain that it was not an obscure message from one of his followers.

“Flagrante!” Harry shouted. The little elf glowed red-hot. “Confringo!”

The statue exploded with the force of a small bomb and Voldemort was sent flying backward. Harry did not give him a chance to catch himself, but shouted the Blasting Curse again, sending Voldemort flying backward. He screamed a high-pitched cry of fury that gave Harry chills.

“It was stupid of you to come here tonight, Tom Riddle,” Harry stepped out of the shadows, and let the Disillusionment Charm slide off him.

“Potter,” Voldemort hissed. He had red blisters all over his face and hands from where the shards of the burning statue had impaled him. Harry felt a flash of pain from his scar – Voldemort had seen the prophecy destroyed, not knowing that Harry had tricked him. His face twisted in fury, he raised his wand almost too quickly for Harry to see—

He ducked the Killing Curse, and dived out of the way of the exploding centaur. He came out of it in one smooth movement. Harry screamed “Sectumsempra!” before he had even rolled to his feet once more. Harry allowed himself a moment of shock and awe when Voldemort could not spin away from the jet of light fast enough – and two fingers on his left hand spun into the air and splat on the ground. Those were cursed wounds… nothing could bring them back.

But Voldemort recovered amazingly quickly, and Harry had to duck another flash of green light. He danced around the curses, whirling this way and that in a complicated pattern that Moody had taught him months ago…

“You’re the one who shouldn’t have come, Potter,” Voldemort hissed. “You’re the one the Ministry is hunting down… they do not even have any inkling that I, Lord Voldemort, have returned again.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Harry said shortly. They were circling each other now; Harry was only dimly aware of the watching crowd… he could barely see them, and if they made sounds he did not hear it at all.

“Didn’t you want to know the fullness of the prophecy?” Voldemort asked. “That was your destiny involved as well…”

“Oh,” Harry said. He withdrew the glass orb that glowed in the dim light. “You mean this prophecy?” He did not give Voldemort time to react, but tossed it up high into the air, and used the curse he had used on the statue to blast it into smithereens. There was a haunted, howling sound, and only a fine dust rained on the floor. “I don’t need to know what it says, Tom. I’ve known for a while that I’m going to defeat you.”

Voldemort screamed with laughter and fury, though Harry could tell that he was unnerved. “You think you – a child – can defeat me?”

Harry answered him by shouting “Incendio!” and Voldemort was wreathed in flames. It only lasted for a second, and Harry dodged another Killing Curse. Voldemort was breathing as heavily as Harry… he pointed his wand – a stream of grey light arced out of it, and Harry threw up a Shield Charm as fast as he could, but he was hit in the shoulder.

He immediately felt exhaustion so intense that it was all he could do to stay standing. He partially broke the curse, but was already sweating and trembling from the effort to remain upright. Harry felt a dim surge of anger… Voldemort had deliberately weakened him. If that isn’t cheating…

He decided in an instant that this was all he needed from Voldemort. He flicked his wand, and let the Notice-Me-Not Charm that kept Voldemort from seeing the crowd that had amassed in the Atrium fall. The red eyes widened, and he hissed in anger… then he turned on the spot, his cloak billowing out from him like a piece of darkness, and vanished. Harry sagged to the floor, more exhausted than he had been in a very long time, and possibly not at all in this body It took minutes for him to catch his breath.

The Atrium was totally and completely silent, as though someone had cast a charm. The fact that Harry Potter had just dueled Voldemort appeared to have made a great number of people speechless. Harry looked at Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. He got the impression that the older wizard wanted to start cheering. Several long moments passed and still no one moved. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, starting to feel a little nervous. Were they going to try to arrest him? If they tried, he was going to have to put his foot down.

“Voldemort is back,” Harry stated the obvious.

Fudge gaped, sputtered, and opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Mr. Weasley stood right behind him, Harry noticed. He was grimly satisfied that the man’s Compulsion Spell had worked well enough that the Aurors had not attempted to curse Voldemort. Amos Diggory – and Cedric – were familiar faces in the crowd; he wondered if Mr. Weasley had had anything to do with that. Harry shouldn’t be surprised that Cedric now worked for the Ministry… bright boys and girls who were skilled with magic often did.

“It appears,” Dumbledore said slowly, “that we might owe Mr. Potter a rather large apology.”

“D-D-D-Dumbledore!” Fudge whispered. “That was – that was You-Know-Who!”

Harry turned away and rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Voldemort’s been back since June 24th. You know… the night you lot decided to arrest me?”

Dumbledore gave him a very, very sly wink. It went unnoticed by any of the others. “I take it that you used the Imperius Curse on young Mr. Diggory to protect him? But what about the – ah.”

Moody, with his impeccable timing, chose that moment to shove through the crowd. “A mad Death Eater was impersonating me,” he growled, amidst the cries of shock and gasps. But the crowd quickly fell silent, wanting to know the truth. “Don’t know which one, never saw him. But the wizard who died in the maze was the Death Eater, not me.”

“But how do we know—“ a young Auror began.

“You know of any ways to impersonate a dead man?” Moody growled. “Honestly, Dewitt, you ought to have studied Miss Abernathy a little less and Concealment and Disguise a little more!”

“It’s him,” Dewitt said, awed. “That’s Mad-Eye Moody!”

“It is,” Rufus Scrimgeour said, more to himself than to anyone else. He, however, had not merely taken Moody’s word for it. He’d cast a spell that Harry did not know (but if it detected whether or not someone was using magical means of disguise, he probably ought to), and Moody’s body had briefly flared blue. “Polyjuice won’t work like that… not with a dead man. Thought it was a bit funny that he got himself killed by a Blast-Ended Skrewt. But how… how did you get your eye back?”

“I didn’t,” Moody said gruffly. “I made a different one.”

Scrimgeour nodded, though he was still frowning.

Moody’s eye spun. Several employees were slipping away… Harry had a good idea that they were leaving to Apparate to Voldemort… he was glad that Moody was marking them. Perhaps they would have new names to add to the list they had created of Death Eaters who had infiltrated the Ministry.

“I assume that you were captive somewhere?” Scrimgeour pushed.

“I was,” Moody said. “I was held under the Imperius Curse and kept in my own trunk. I was moved the night before the final task… thank Merlin, or I would have starved to death… and once the Death Eater died, I was able to escape.”

Harry listened as Moody lied fluently. An odd thought struck him. He remembered years and years ago before the destruction and Voldemort’s defeat… Aberforth had said that Dumbledore kept his secrets close to him. Harry was doing the same. He was glad that he had been able to pull it off so far…and he was very glad that he knew so many good liars.

Like Dumbledore.

“Harry,” he said softly. “I cannot even begin to express my regret. It didn’t even occur to me that things were not as they seemed. I confess that I was swept away”—Harry could see Fudge nodding like a sycophant after every two words, and would have had to work hard to suppress his grin had he not been so exhausted—“by the fact that the prophecy hinted at a terrible power. But – and I think that I speak for all of us – after what I have just witnessed, I think we can assume that the terrible power might actually be a good thing.”

If Hermione finds a way for me to survive, Harry thought. “So now I’m all right?” Harry asked harshly. He swayed on his feet and only hoped that no one had noticed. He looked over the crowd… where are Ginny, Ron, and Hermione?

As if Harry’s thoughts had summoned them, Ginny and Ron appeared and shoved their way through the crowd. Hermione was a few steps behind them. There were more gasps and cries of shock.

“Take a good look, Dumbledore,” Harry said. “It’s been four teenagers and Mad-Eye against Voldemort. For an entire year.”

“You could have come forward,” Dumbledore pointed out.

“I would have been arrested on sight,” Harry countered. He put his hand on Ginny’s shoulder when she reached his side. He did this to assure himself that she was in one piece, and also to help him stay upright. She was very pale. “No one would’ve bothered to listen to me, and don’t try to deny it.”

“Now, Harry,” Fudge began jovially. “Certainly we would have believed you!”

“Don’t lie,” Harry said, not even glancing at him. Sparkling darkness sought to claim him, and Harry wanted nothing more than to fall into his bed. He wondered what that spell had been that had weakened him so… was there a way to counter it? “Listen, you’re not still sending me to Azkaban, are you? Good. In that case, I may be able to set aside some time to talk about this last year. But first… I’m going to bed.”

“But surely you want to go back to Hogwarts!” Fudge said. “There’s no need for you to – er – stay away anymore. And I’m certain the – er – Weasleys”—Fudge glanced at Ginny and Ron; Harry almost pitied the man, he looked so completely lost—“will want to see you. Dreadfully upset, they were—“

“No way in hell,” Ron said flatly. “I’m not going anywhere near my mother and father.”

“Neither am I,” said Ginny.

Fudge opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off, hoping that politeness might do the trick. “I’m very sorry, Minister. But I’m barely standing up. I’m leaving, but I will owl you in the next few days.”

Harry was pleasantly surprised when the crowd parted and let him through. He did not have the strength to Apparate, he didn’t think. They would have to Floo to Grimmauld Place… his eyelids felt like they had weights on them. Ginny murmured a spell, and Harry felt slightly better. Well enough to walk on his own two feet to his bed, anyway.

“Oh!” Hermione’s eyes rounded and she whirled around to face the Minister. “There are Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries… you might want to take them to Azkaban.”

“Grimmauld Place,” Harry whispered. He had the impression of stunned and awed faces before he whirled through green flames to the basement kitchen of his godfather’s family home. He stumbled out of the hearth and landed on his knees. Mrs. Weasley – who had been sitting at the table, obviously waiting for them – made a sudden movement as if to help, but stopped herself.

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione appeared in short order. “Where’s Percy?” Ron asked.

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes were wide. “He hasn’t come yet… I don’t think he knows.”

“That’s impossible,” Ginny said. “Dumbledore sent him a feather from Fawkes’ tail… he knew that he was to come immediately after that.”

Ron did not waste any time, but jumped back into the hearth, shouted Percy’s address, and vanished from sight. Ginny immediately followed. Mrs. Weasley did not even hesitate and then she, too, had gone. Harry flung himself into an empty chair. His brain felt several sizes too big, and he had that horrible feeling in the back of his throat as if he were about to vomit. He did not know whether this was from worry or from the curse.

“Harry, you don’t look well,” Hermione said.

“I’m not!” Harry snapped. “I’m worried about Percy—“

“I meant physically,” Hermione said coolly. “There’s no need to snap at me.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. He really was, but he could not muster the energy to give an apology that sounded sincere.

His stomach rolled, and he was beginning to think that he might actually vomit, when Ginny and Mrs. Weasley tumbled out of the fireplace, seconds apart. Ginny’s face was bloodless. “He isn’t there,” she said. “And there’s a dead Death Eater – Travers – outside the wards…”

Harry gaped at her. “But – how the – he wasn’t even inside?”

“No,” Ginny said. “I assume Percy went out to meet him… we would have known if a Death Eater had tried to get in… the blood wards, you know. But Percy isn’t anywhere near. I think – I think there was another Death Eater. Why would he leave the house? Why?”

Blood pounded through his brain. How could Percy have been so stupid? He knew it was risky. He had promised not to do anything heroic – he had known how important it was that he stay inside the house and let the wards protect him. It was one thing to attack and fight if the Death Eater had infiltrated his house (though Percy had strict orders to Apparate away), but Percy had actually left the house.

Ron stepped out of the hearth. His face was bright red with fury and fear. “The git – left – the – house!”

Mrs. Weasley sat down at the table, placed her head in her hands, and began to cry. Ginny hesitated for a long moment, then walked over to her mother and laid her hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Mum,” Ginny said quietly. She did not sound sure of it at all.

“It won’t be all right,” Mrs. Weasley cried. “I’ve lost you – I’ve lost Ron – and now P-P-Percy might be d-d-dead…”

Ginny took a deep breath, and Harry watched her forgive her mother. His insides twisted up in knots – he wished it could be that easy, or even possible, for him… “You haven’t lost me, Mum. I don’t think—“

“I have lost you,” Mrs. Weasley said. “You don’t—“

Just then, there was a slight diversion in the form of Percy Apparating into the room.

Percy’s eyes were wild behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Harry felt a rush of relief the instant before the older boy rushed him, gripped Harry’s robes, and fairly lifted him off his feet. “Sub arse vu terrow! Sub arse vu terrow! Balabuls! Ubble memmle!” He laughed loudly. I am too tired for this, Harry thought glumly. “Lickle tupitter! Lennimerune!”

“Is he – did something happen to his mind?” Ron asked, horrified. Mrs. Weasley sobbed.

Percy shook his head furiously, though Harry suspected that he had lost his mind. Percy held on even tighter, and then began searching the pockets of his robes with one hand. He pulled out a scrap of parchment and a quill, wrote something furiously, and shoved it under Harry’s nose. The letters were jumbled together, backward, and did not form any coherent words.

“Er – right,” Harry disentangled himself from Percy’s grasp. Percy shoved the useless note into Harry’s pocket. “Someone get Snape over here, or Dumbledore. I’m going to bed. When you figure out just what the hell is going on, you can wake me up. I’m glad you’re – er – alive, Perce.”

He made it about three feet in the direction of his room before the floor rushed up to meet him and everything went black.

--

--

Author’s Note:

The Year Five sequence is complete! I am extremely happy with this, as I have been waiting (far longer than you lot!) for the Weasleys to find out The Secret. I will confess that I originally intended (before I started writing) that the Weasleys remain in the dark until Year Seven. I’m glad I didn’t follow through with that. Also… I was extremely tempted to have Harry to ambush them and force them to look into the Pensieve pretty much right after I finished writing the chapter ‘And It All Falls Apart’. However, the Weasleys had to choose.

I’ve received many emails asking me why I allowed others to know before the Weasleys. Everyone that Harry has told chose to trust him before he sent them into the Pensieve. Just to be clear… if the Weasleys had shown any doubt at all that Harry’s motives were entirely evil during the argument that took place before Ginny and Ron left the Burrow, they would have been told about the time travel.

So… a lot of you have been asking me about the cloak, the article, etc. Yeah… not going to answer. :D I hope you will continue to enjoy the story!

On a different note, I hope you all can help me with something. I am considering changing the name of Backward With Purpose to Always and Always. A few chapters ago, a reviewer pointed out that I’m an idiot for not having that as the title. Frankly, I couldn’t agree more. I hope this does not eff up the alerts and crap. Tell me what you think!