Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Twenty-three

And the Mighty Will Fall

The clanking of swords echoed in the stillness of the Room of Requirement. Harry and Ron were both panting with exertion as they circled one another. Harry could feel the sweat rolling down his back, and it was distracting. They’d charmed the swords to ensure that they wouldn’t actually cut each other, but they wore their armor, anyway.

It had been several days since the attack at the arcade, and Ron and Harry had spent much of that time sparring. Harry needed an outlet for his pent-up anxieties, and Ron was only too happy to oblige him. As it turned out, there had been Death Eater attacks at malls all over Aberdeen and the surrounding area. Voldemort had known Harry was out, but not an exact location. Mad Eye suspected that they’d tried to trace the portkey, but only came up with a generalized area. There had been sixty-three Muggle deaths in all.

It was the Muggle deaths that were bothering Harry more than anything else. He did feel guilty for taking the life of one of Voldemort’s Death Eaters, and couldn’t help but wonder if the man was acting on his own accord or was forced to commit crimes while under the influence of the Imperius. Still, it wasn’t the first time Harry had been indirectly responsible for the death of one of Voldemort’s followers. The same thing had happened to Professor Quirrell during Harry’s first year. No, it was all the innocent deaths that were happening while Harry prepared for his final confrontation that were weighing heavily on his mind.

Harry had gone to bed straightaway without saying a word to anyone after they’d returned from the mall. He’d felt numb and simply wanted to retreat from everyone. Ron had followed him upstairs and insisted that he take some of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. He also said that he wasn’t about to let Harry enter into that dark hole of guilt from where he himself was just emerging. They’d work it out together.

Harry had been annoyed with Ron at first, but eventually was glad it was Ron and not Ginny who had followed him. He would have taken his anger out on her and then felt even guiltier about that. With Ron, he could snap all he wanted and Ron rarely took offense. Harry had been short and irritable with everyone since the attack, but the dueling really did help him relax. His desire to be alone and work things out in his head battled constantly with his friends’ desire to ensure that he didn’t isolate himself again.

“Are you ready to concede?” Ron asked, when Harry had been distracted in his musings.

Harry spun completely around in a circle, hooking Ron’s sword out of his hands with his own as he did. Ron’s sword hit the floor with a booming clang. “Checkmate,” Harry said, grinning.

“Enjoy it,” Ron said, with a smirk of his own. “That’s the only time you’ll get to actually say that to me.”

Harry chuckled and pulled off his facemask. “Merlin, I’m knackered. What time is it, anyway?”

“Half three. The Hogwarts Express should be here within the next few hours. I can hardly wait to get to the feast,” Ron said, as he began to take off his armor.

“Yeah, but that also means classes begin again tomorrow. I’ve enjoyed the Snape-free days.”

“Yeah, but we’ve still had to see him at every meal, glaring at us. Talk about ruining perfectly good food,” Ron said, grumbling.

“Have you heard from Fred?” Harry asked, placing the swords back in their sheaths.

“No, but I got an owl from George yesterday. He said they were fine and business was great. He thinks they may have started a fashion trend,” Ron said, shaking his head.

Fred had been hit with an obscure Dark Magic curse that caused severe burns. Fortunately, it hadn’t been a direct hit. It had grazed his chest and the left side of his face, singeing all the hair off his eyebrow. Madam Pomfrey had healed the burns, but the eyebrow would have to grow back on its own. In sympathy and support for his brother, George had shaved his own right eyebrow so they were still a matching set. Mrs. Weasley had been furious with him for joking, but Fred thought it was hilarious.

“Good for them,” Harry said, chuckling at the image in his head of the one-eyebrow twins as he turned off Abe’s stereo. Harry had picked up Abe’s habit of sparring to loud rock music.

“How are you doing, mate?” Ron asked, averting his eyes and trying to sound casual. “You really put me through my paces today.”

Harry shrugged. “Sorry. I’m all right…just frustrated. I haven’t been able to talk with Professor Dumbledore since the attacks. I know he’s busy…but I want to know what’s going on.”

Harry had spoken with the headmaster the day after the attack, but he hadn’t seen him since. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t even attended any of the meals, and Harry wondered if he’d be at the feast tonight.

“I know you’re frustrated, mate, but you don’t want to rush this, anyway,” Ron said.

“Rush it? I don’t think rushing it is at all what we’ve been doing. I’m tired of sitting back and furthering my education while people are out there dying. I need to end this…and I’m still not certain how to do it,” Harry said, jerking his work-out gear back into his bag with force. His voice had risen steadily until he’d shouted the last bit at Ron.

“Harry, you’re still shouldering too much of this yourself. The Order is all going to be with you. I’m going to be with you. You’re not in this alone,” Ron said, his eyes gleaming fiercely.

“I know you all want to be there, Ron, but it’s not the same. I have to do this. If I fail – you’re all going to die,” Harry said, his eyes glistening. Then, lowering his voice, he added more softly, “I can’t stand to think about it.”

“Then don’t,” Ginny said from the doorway, where she stood with Hermione and Neville. All three had pale faces, so Harry imagined they’d heard the whole conversation. He rubbed his forehead wearily.

“Don’t think about it,” Ginny said more forcefully, crossing the room to stand beside him. “Harry, if it drives you mad, or makes you lose your focus, then think about something else. He’s trying to rattle you – don’t let him.”

“She’s right, Harry,” Hermione said. “Obviously, he found out you were going to be out of the castle but was uncertain where. What we have to be concerned with is where he got his information.”

“She’s right,” Ron said. “He knew you were going to be at a mall, because all the attacks took place in malls. So, who told him?”

“Snape knew where you’d be,” Neville said darkly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione snapped. “Professor Snape is a member of the Order, and he knew exactly where you were going to be. If he’d given the information, Voldemort himself would have been at that arcade.”

“Or he could have been trying to throw us off by not giving the exact location, but the general vicinity. That way, they could still wipe out a bunch of Muggles, and Snape wouldn’t blow his cover,” Ron said.

“Honestly,” Hermione huffed. “How many times have you suspected Snape only to be proven wrong? We’re missing something here.”

“Well,” Harry said slowly. “Abe arranged the portkey, but the same logic applies, he knew exactly where we were going.”

“But he wasn’t with us when the attack happened,” said Neville. “Do you suspect Abe, Harry?”

“No.” Harry shook his head vehemently. “I’m just listing the possibilities. Wandering around aimlessly is just Abe’s style, but he really hadn’t gone very far from where we were. I really don’t think it was Abe or Cordelia. And I know it wasn’t any of you or the Weasleys, obviously.”

“Who else?” Ron asked, easily dismissing the thought of anyone in his family being the spy. Percy hadn’t been there for Christmas, and Harry didn’t think that even Percy would go that far.

“I dunno. I suppose it could be anyone in the Order, but I can’t imagine whom. I mean, I know there are a lot of new members, but I don’t think anyone but our core group would have been trusted with the information. I don’t like to think of any of them being a spy, but I imagine my parents didn’t want to think it of Wormtail, either,” Harry said quietly.

Ginny took Harry’s hand in her own. “Let’s head back to Gryffindor tower so you two can take showers before the others arrive. You stink.”

“Sorry. You don’t think it’s sort of manly and athletic?” Harry asked, pretending he was going to put his sweaty arm around her shoulders.

“No!” Ginny shrieked, moving away from him quickly. “Shower first. Snogging later.”

“Deal.”

“You must be excited to see Luna again, Neville,” Hermione said, ignoring Harry and Ginny completely.

Neville smiled faintly. “I suppose.”

“What the matter, Neville?” Ginny asked. “Is anything wrong?”

“I dunno. She went to Bulgaria with her father after Christmas, but her letters have been strange. She sounds sort of distant and very peculiar.”

“What’s strange about Luna being peculiar? I thought that was a Luna-standard. She’s so strange and peculiar on a regular basis, it would be hard to spot anything amiss,” Ron said, closing the door behind them as they left the Room of Requirement.

The students returned to the castle, and classes resumed again. News from the outside world was not good. Death Eater attacks were not only growing, but they were also much more prominent and leaking into the Muggle world. Voldemort’s forces weren’t even trying to conceal the use of magic. It was as if he already felt invincible. The Ministry’s inept bumbling and attempts to conceal minor details only increased the population’s panic. Several students hadn’t even returned for spring term. Instead, their families had chosen to flee Britain entirely.

They’d only been back to classes for a week, and Harry was already buried under a mountain of homework. Every teacher seemed intent on ensuring their preparedness for the upcoming NEWTs. The only one who appeared to be fretting over their approach more than the teachers was Hermione.

“There’s only six months of school left before our entire Hogwarts education will be under examination. How can I possibly memorize seven years’ worth of information in only six months? We need to plan a revision table…”

And so it went. She and Ron had got on swimmingly over the holiday, but that didn’t absolve him from her wrath when he and Harry didn’t show what she deemed adequate concern for the NEWT deadline. She’d been nearly hysterical with their revision habits three times during just the first week back. Harry feared they were in for a rough term. Hermione had already set up a plan to color code their assignments, classifying each one on how likely the information was to appear on a NEWT.

In addition to all the essays and heavy practical work, there was Defense class to endure. As he’d warned them at the end of term, Snape had arranged for the classes to spar in mock duels against one another. The first inter-house challenge would take place the following day against the Slytherins. Harry was eager for the challenge and to test out some of the new spells that Abe had been teaching him. He knew he was antsy and itching for a fight, but he worked on his meditative exercises to try and control his temper.

Hermione never mentioned whether or not she’d officially broken things off with Terry Boot, but she spent considerably more time in the common room. Harry had noticed Terry in the library, sitting with Lisa Turpin, who gave Hermione a distinctly triumphant glare when they’d entered one evening. Hermione set her jaw, but refrained from commenting. She and Ron were back to bickering and saying things purposefully to set the other off. But there was a definite playful tone to it again, and Harry could tell they were both enjoying themselves. He also noticed how each of them backed down more easily, letting the other win on occasion. He felt as if things were almost back to normal, and it pleased him more than anything else had in a long time.

He hadn’t noticed it himself, but Ginny had pointed out how Neville was spending much more time with them in the common room than he had previously, as well.

It was the night before their first Defense challenge that they got the full story of what had been happening with Neville. Harry sat in the common room with Ginny, Ron and Hermione, looking over some defensive spells in preparation for the next day. Neville walked in and slumped wearily into a seat beside Ginny.

“All right, Neville?” she asked.

Neville was glassy-eyed and looked sort of dazed. He blinked and stared at Ginny silently.

“What’s wrong, Neville?” Hermione asked. She was obviously slightly annoyed by the interruption.

“Huh?” Neville asked vaguely.

“What’s wrong with you, Neville?” Ron demanded. “Have you and Luna been snogging again? The last time you were this out of it was the first time she stuck her tongue down your throat.”

“Ron!” Hermione shouted.

“You ponce,” Ginny said, smacking Ron on the arm.

“What?” Ron asked, rubbing the spot where Ginny had hit him.

“We broke up,” Neville said at last.

“What?” all four of the other Gryffindors asked at once.

“We decided to go our separate ways,” Neville said softly.

“What happened, Neville?” Ginny asked, laying a hand on his forearm.

Neville sighed deeply. “Well, we’ve been having a lot of disagreements lately. Then, over Christmas, Luna went to Bulgaria with her father and met a fortuneteller there. The fortuneteller told her that she was being stifled and needed to change the atmosphere around her. She said Luna was surrounded by bad karma, whatever that means.”

Hermione had rolled her eyes the moment the word ‘fortuneteller’ was uttered. Ron followed suit at the notion of ‘changing the atmosphere’.

“Anyway,” Neville said. “Luna decided the aura at Hogwarts is oppressive and decided it was because we all wear black robes. She’s started a society designed to free our spirits, and she wanted me to be the first member.”

“And you didn’t want to be a member?” Harry asked. He had a mad desire to laugh out loud and fought desperately to conceal it. He didn’t want to hurt Neville’s feelings, but the image of what the expression on Neville's face must have been as Luna told him all this was priceless.

“She wanted me to wear hot pink robes, Harry,” Neville said with a scowl.

Harry lost his battle with his amusement and sniggered into his hand. Ron laughed outright, while Ginny glared at them both.

“Did she break up with you because you wouldn’t wear the robes, or did you break up with her?” Ginny asked.

“I suppose it was sort of mutual,” Neville said. “There was no way I was going to wear the robes, and she said that I was part of what was stifling her. She thought she needed a change, and I certainly don’t want to walk around the school trying to convince everyone to wear pink robes.” Neville looked alarmed at the very prospect.

“She’s really starting a society to promote this idea?” Hermione asked.

Neville nodded. “She gets rather mad about a new idea sometimes,” he said sheepishly.

“I can’t imagine anyone doing that,” Ron said sarcastically. “Maybe she could band together with spew and get all the house elves to dress in pink tea cozies.”

Harry thought he would choke, trying to hold in his laughter. He glanced worriedly at Ginny but saw she was struggling not to laugh, as well.

“Ron, it’s not spew, it’s S.P.E.W. You know that,” Hermione said angrily.

Neville stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, Neville, no. I’m sorry; we’ll behave. Sit here with us for a while and look over these spells for tomorrow,” Hermione said, horrified that she’d insulted him.

“No, it’s all right, Hermione. I really want to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

They all watched as Neville climbed the stairs. He held his head high, but his shoulders slumped.

“Poor bloke,” Ron said. “It’s a miserable feeling.”

“You would know,” Hermione said tartly.

“So, now Harry, Hermione, and Luna have all started their own groups at Hogwarts,” Ginny said. Harry knew she was simply trying to derail Ron and Hermione.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I wonder how many other students have started their own organized groups here?”

“Most of the extracurricular activities now offered were all started by students at one point,” Ron answered automatically.

Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed.

Ginny frowned. “How do you know that?”

Ron looked up and stared directly into Hermione’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, he said, “It’s on a list of activities in Hogwarts: A History.”

Hermione blinked repeatedly. “You read Hogwarts: A History?” she asked, her lower lip trembling.

Ron swallowed. “I wanted to see what you got so worked up about,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Ron.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I know I acted like a complete prat. I’d really like-”

Ron never finished the sentence, because Hermione grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him against her for a searing kiss.

Harry sat watching them in stunned silence. He blinked and looked over at Ginny. He was surprised to find her sniffling and watching Ron and Hermione with a tremulous smile.

“I didn’t know he had it in him,” she said tearfully.

Harry took her hand and led her away from the table. “Since they are obviously otherwise engaged, there’s no sense in letting the evening go to waste,” he said, plopping on the couch and pulling her down on his lap. Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

They didn’t get anymore revising done that evening.

Harry entered the DADA classroom with a confident stride. Ron and Hermione followed a few paces behind, holding hands and staring at each other with googly eyes. Although Harry had been pleased to see them back together, he was growing irritated with their open affection. He and Ginny never acted this way in front of them. If he thought about it for a minute, he suspected Ron might disagree with that statement, but it was true, Harry thought sulkily.

He purposely sat next to Neville and left Ron and Hermione on their own. Neither seemed to notice the sleight, which only soured Harry’s mood further. His eyes scanned the classroom and noted how the Gryffindors sat on one side of the room and the seventh-year Slytherins who had joined them took the other. It reminded him of his Potions classes in previous years.

He knew he was in a foul mood, and he blamed it on the poor night’s sleep he’d had. He’d dreamt about the Chamber again – that same dream that he’d been having repeatedly about Ginny turning into Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets. In his dream, Voldemort would kill Ginny before he could do anything to stop him. He didn’t know why he was having this dream so often lately, but suspected he probably needed to talk about it. Talking about his other nightmares had helped alleviate them. He didn’t want to alarm Ginny with this one, however, so he’d kept it to himself.

As he considered his terrifying dream, Harry noticed Pansy Parkinson glaring at him through narrowed eyes. Her hard face twisted into a scowl, and she gripped her wand tightly. Harry knew if he lowered his Legilimency shield even a little bit that he’d pick up on her desire to best him in a duel. He thought it might be a good match. It was time to get this animosity out in the open once and for all. He didn’t want to antagonize her, when she was obviously grieving, but it wasn’t his fault Malfoy decided to go and join the Death Eaters, either.

Snape burst through the door and slammed it closed behind him. He strode up to the front of the room with his cape billowing.

“I’m not here to waste time on reiterating previously covered material. You should all be prepared for what we have planned today. The rules are simple – no Unforgiveables allowed. Other than that, anything goes,” he said, smiling cruelly as Neville paled. His eyes raked all the students. “Our first duel will be between Millicent Bulstrode from Slytherin, and…” Snape paused, looking shrewdly at all the Gryffindors. “Ms. Granger from Gryffindor. We are all well aware of how you like to flaunt your knowledge of book material, Ms. Granger. Let’s see if you have any practical skills.”

Harry clenched his jaw in annoyance. Snape knew damn well that Hermione could perform very well in practical lessons. The thought of performing without knowing beforehand what was going to happen alarmed her slightly, but she always managed to pull herself together. Snape had seen how Hermione paled while he was speaking and decided to call on her first.

It had been this way all year in Defense class. Snape really couldn’t fault the Gryffindors very much on their skills. The DA had trained them all well – they were all very advanced Defense students. So he’d settled for veiled barbs and insults, always trying to shake their confidence. He’d had some luck doing this with several of the students, Hermione – and particularly Neville – included.

Harry noticed that Ron’s ears had reddened when Snape berated Hermione. He hoped his friend would hold his temper. Snape would only make it worse on Hermione if Ron made a scene.

Hermione stood and walked confidently to the center of the room. She looked diminutive, standing next to Millicent’s wide girth. The two girls bowed to one another and assumed a dueling stance. Millicent fired a quick Stunning spell first that Hermione easily dodged.

Hermione fired several curses in rapid succession, one of which caused a wave of static electricity to cover Millicent. Small strands of her hair raised on end all over her, giving her a decidedly deranged appearance. At first, Harry thought this was a useless waste of time, but the sound of the static was audible enough for the entire class to hear it and appeared to distract Millicent. She kept wincing and holding her arm awkwardly, so as not to let her arms touch the rest of her body. As she struggled to focus, Hermione easily disarmed her.

Snape’s expression remained neutral, but by the clenching of his jaw Harry knew that he was seething. “That round goes to Ms. Granger, although a rather lackluster effort. Two points to Gryffindor.”

Ron beamed at Hermione. “Snape looks like he’s in pain, having to do that. Nice one, Hermione.”

Hermione glowed with pleasure.

The class proceeded through several other match-ups, with Snape awarding vastly more points to any Slytherin who won their match. The discrepancy in points was almost laughable, since the Gryffindors were by far the superior duelists. The old rivalry between the two Houses showed itself in force, and the duels grew nastier as the double class grew long. Seven students had already paid visits to Madam Pomfrey for minor cuts and abrasions before Harry’s turn finally arrived.

“Blaise Zabini against Harry Potter,” Snape said, sneering.

Harry looked over at Blaise. The Slytherin quirked up one side of his mouth in what could almost pass for a smile. His dark blue eyes scanned the room and finally came to rest on Harry.

“Are you ready for this, Potter?” Blaise asked pleasantly.

Harry took a deep breath. He knew Blaise had been attending the DA meetings, so he was aware of what Harry could do. What Harry was counting on was the fact that Blaise didn’t know that Harry hadn’t taught the DA everything he had up his sleeve.

They bowed to one another and assumed their positions. In the DA, Harry always waited for his opponent to cast the first spell. He could read the laid back set of Blaise’s shoulders and knew instinctively that the Slytherin planned on waiting him out. Instead, Harry immediately fired a Jelly Legs Jinx that took Blaise unaware.

Giving his legs up as useless, Blaise rolled to the ground and sent several jinxes back towards Harry. Harry easily shielded himself, but in the time it took to cast the shield, Blaise had removed the jinx from his legs.

Blaise’s eyes had widened when Harry struck first, but he quickly adjusted his expectations. The two competitors circled each other, firing hexes, curses and jinxes at random. Both proved excellent at casting strong shields quickly, and soon they had lasted longer than any other pair.

The other students in the room watched intently, moving back each time that the combatants got close. The circle surrounding them had widened considerably. As they circled near the windows, Blaise tripped on a bag that Neville had left on the ground. He landed flat on his backside, momentarily dazed.

Harry waited a moment for Blaise to get back on his feet. As soon as he stood, Harry hissed, “Diffindo!” Blaise dodged the cutting curse, but it signaled a change in the battle. The simple, more harmless curses were done. Blaise responded with a powerful blasting curse that forced Harry to tuck and roll away. He got to his feet quickly and proceeded to blast a string of curses towards his opponent in unrelenting succession. As Blaise began to falter, Harry began to stalk towards him slowly.

Without warning, Harry felt something graze his shoulder blade from behind. He realized a moment later that it had been a Stinging Hex when sharp pain exploded along his shoulder, neck and arm. Keeping his wand trained on Blaise, he glanced quickly to the side. Pansy Parkinson stood there with her wand drawn.

“Aculeatus,” she said again, firing another Stinging Hex, this time towards his knees.

Harry was ready for it this time. He leapt on top of an empty desk as the room exploded in protest.

“Silence,” Snape said in a monotone. He obviously had no intention of stopping Pansy.

Harry remembered how Abe had unnerved him by grinning the entire time they sparred, and he decided to employ the tactic here. He used his incredible speed to fight two duels simultaneously. He’d done a similar exercise on the island with Remus, Tonks, and Bill. The only difference being that then he was only allowed to use his shield.

Blaise’s eyes had opened wide when Pansy fired her curse, and he looked towards Snape with expectation. When Snape refused to interfere, he said, “I can fight my own duel, Pansy.”

“Potter can’t be trusted. Besides, he teaches that DA. He should know in a real duel it won’t always be one on one,” Pansy said slyly, firing again towards Harry. She wasn’t the strongest spellcaster he’d ever battled, but the curses were all Dark, and most he only knew about from Abe and Jonathan.

Blaise glanced uncertainly at Harry.

“Don’t worry about her, Blaise,” Harry said, his grin remaining in place. “I don’t plan on being distracted.”

Blaise returned Harry’s grin and sent a blast of fire towards Harry. He easily ducked under the flame, and Ron doused it without ever taking his eyes off of Harry.

“I’m going to be more than a mere distraction, Potter,” Pansy snarled. “Reducto!”

“Protego,” Harry shouted. “Locomotor Mortis.”

Harry’s Leg Locker Curse hit its mark, and Pansy went down in a heap. Harry turned back to Blaise who was using a desk to pull himself back to his feet. Harry aimed his wand at the desk. “Evanesco!”

The desk vanished, causing Blaise to crash to the floor. “Expelliarmus,” Harry cried twice, aiming at each Pansy and Blaise. He turned to Snape, holding all three wands and was surprised to note the look of fury on his instructor’s face.

“That was the most abysmal display of a duel I have ever witnessed, Potter,” he snarled.

“What?” Ron shouted. “He just beat the both of them.”

“There should never have been a need to battle the two of them. Ms. Parkinson is correct in stating that you can not expect your opponent to play fair or to never be outnumbered. A lesson I would think you should have learned by this point, Potter. Your lack of foresight is unfortunate, although not unexpected. What is appalling is your insistence on playing the hero.”

That phrase cut through Harry as it always did and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallowed to try to contain his rising fury.

“You should have ended this duel when Mr. Zabini tripped over the bag that Longbottom so foolishly left in the circle. Instead, you allowed your opponent to regain his footing. In an actual duel, this sense of fair play will get you killed. Ten points to Slytherin for Ms. Parkinson’s cleverness in backing up her classmate.”

Harry gritted his teeth. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temple. He was irritated by Snape’s words even more sharply because they were true. He should have simply ended the duel when Blaise went down, but it hadn’t seemed fair at the time. He scanned the faces of the other students. All were staring at him expectantly, waiting to see what he was going to do. The anger on the faces of the Gryffindors was palpable, spurred on even further by the smugness of the Slytherins.

Harry took a deep breath. “You’re right. In a real duel, I should have taken Blaise out immediately. This is a classroom duel, however, and I thought the point was for all of us to learn something. I do know never to expect fair play from a Death Eater,” he said, staring hard at Snape. The accusation was heavy in the air.

Snape nearly shook with fury. “Perhaps, Mr. Potter, you think the class would benefit from a demonstration of how a real duel is fought,” he said silkily. “A real duel, rather than merely a classroom demonstration.”

“You’re on,” Harry replied.

“Clear these desks back to the wall and make a wider circle,” Snape barked. “Mr. Longbottom, make certain to clear all of your belongings this time.”

Harry walked over towards Blaise and extended his hand. Blaise stared at him a moment warily before grasping his hand firmly. Harry returned Blaise’s wand with a nod.

“You’re good, Potter. Draco always claimed that you cheated when you fought, but you’re fast…and fair,” Blaise said.

Harry felt strangely bolstered by the compliment. If he and a Slytherin could actually appreciate each other for their differences – even learn to respect one another – perhaps there was hope for them all.

Pansy approached them to retrieve her wand with a look of complete and utter loathing.

Then again, maybe not.

“Enjoy your petty little victory now, Potter,” she hissed, keeping her voice very low so only those in the immediate vicinity could hear her. “The Dark Lord is awaiting his time with you, and he’s going to make you look like the simpering little school boy you are. He’s going to curse you and then pull out your entrails to feed them to his pet while you’re still alive to watch it. That will be the dawn of a new age of wizard supremacy. And I hope I’m there to watch it.”

Harry felt stunned by the venom of her words, but he fought hard not to show it. “You’ll understand if I have a different interpretation of how my life is going to go. Here’s your wand.” Harry held the wand out to her.

She snatched it back and stalked away. Harry turned to find Snape watching him with unfathomable eyes.

“If you’re done with your little dramatics, do you suppose you could fit some class time into your busy schedule?” he asked.

Harry smirked. “My schedule is rather tight, but I think I’m free now.”

Snape scowled. “You’re as arrogant as your father. Let’s see if you can duel any better than he.”

The smile disappeared from Harry’s face as red-hot anger burned in his chest. How dare he? His eyes flashed dangerously as he got into position.

Snape fired first, a quick and hard bludgeoning curse that Harry deflected. Harry returned the same curse with equal strength. The two circled each other warily, each sending powerful, dangerous spells towards the other. It was much different from the duels he’d had with other students. He felt a line of sweat on his brow as he tuned out the stares of his classmates to focus only on Snape.

“Diffindo!”

“Reducto!”

Harry found he couldn’t both keep his shield engaged and use the power he needed to cast the spells. He had to settle for raising his shield only when he needed it. Before long, both he and his professor were covered in a variety of small cuts and bruises.

“Protego!” Harry hissed, getting a shield up just in time to block a powerful bone-breaking curse.

Harry used several of the more advanced curses that Abe had shown him, including one that enshrouded the area around Snape’s wand in frigid air. Each time Snape tried to cast a spell, chunks of ice would fall from his wand.

“Finite Incantatum,” Snape snarled when he realized what Harry had done.

Snape transfigured one of the desks stacked up around the room into a wildcat that leapt at Harry over the screams of some of the girls in class. Harry instinctively raised his arm in defense.

“Expelliarmus,” Snape said, and Harry felt his wand fly out of his hand. It flew directly into Snape’s waiting hand. The wildcat vanished mid-jump as Harry tucked and rolled out of the way.

He landed on the floor amidst the chunks of ice.

Oh, no, this isn’t going to end this way.

Harry picked up several chucks of the ice and began pelting Snape with them. In the blink of an eye, Harry was back on his feet and leaped towards Snape, grabbing his wand back with physical force that Snape clearly wasn’t expecting.

Surest way to stun a wizard was to use Muggle tactics. Abe had taught him that.

The duel began anew, both combatants fighting with a renewed sense of fury.

Snape was very good. He was thin and wiry – much like Harry – so he could move quickly. His spells were powerful, and he was relentless with his intensity. As the fight wore on, and Harry proved very adept at shielding himself from the curses, Snape began to use one of his best weapons – his words.

“Surprisingly, you have managed to retain a few things since second year, Potter. I don’t think it will help you in your desire for Auror training. I’m certain they’ll hire you simply because of your name. There are those who are easily swayed by a little fame…no matter how undeserving that fame may be. Of course, they’ll soon frown on your habit of getting your partners killed. You really don’t have a very good track record there, do you, Potter?”

Harry heard Hermione’s gasp as the fury took hold in his mind. Harry’s hands shook with power, as he began to fire spell after spell towards his professor. He could feel that surge of power rising from his hands and, for once, willingly allowed it to overtake him. The air began to crackle around him, and he vaguely registered his classmates shielding their eyes from a bright light. He moved so quickly that he wasn’t entirely certain that each spell came from his wand alone.

Snape was unable to withstand the overwhelming furor of Harry’s attack. His shield collapsed, and he crumpled to the floor. Harry kept firing, as if his brain hadn’t yet caught up to the speed of his hands. He felt as if another force was driving him…a power greater than he could control. It was only when Hermione’s sharp voice rang in his ear that he came back to awareness.

“Harry, stop!”

Ron grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back. His eyes were wide and panicked as he searched Harry’s face. “Bugger, Harry. Are you all right?”

Harry blinked several times, noting the shocked faces of his classmates. He turned to Snape’s crumpled form on the floor. The professor was unconscious. Harry turned wide, stunned eyes towards his friends.

“I…I…I didn’t mean…” He stopped, unable to continue. The overwhelming power that had come over him frightened him, and he needed a minute to absorb what had happened.

Taking a deep breath, he moved cautiously to where his teacher lay and knelt down beside him. This was the first time he’d allowed the power inside him to emerge completely. It might be childish, but he couldn’t think of anyone that he would have rather tested it upon than Snape. He knew that he hadn’t really hurt the man, and he had to admit – this small victory felt really good.

“Ennervate,” he whispered.

Snape blinked his eyes open and sat up slowly, rubbing a spot on the back of his head.

Harry stared at him, waiting to see what the man would do. He was fairly certain he’d be spending the rest of his final year in detention.

It was worth it, he thought, fighting back a smirk.

He knew that if Snape tried any Legilimency now, he’d certainly pick up on Harry’s overwhelming urge to do a victory dance. Snape blinked and looked around for a moment. Harry could nearly feel the glee coming from Ron, who was standing behind him. He fought to keep his expression neutral as he stared at his longtime antagonist.

Snape surprised him, however, by shakily getting to his feet and nodding towards Harry.

“That is what a real duel looks like,” he said to the class, ignoring Harry entirely. Still, it was the closest thing to a compliment that Harry had ever received from the man, and he was stunned. As Harry turned to collect his things and leave the room, he heard Snape call after him. “Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.”

Ron climbed quietly into his bed and arranged the bed hangings around him. All of his roommates were sleeping, judging from the sounds of snores and deep breathing that interrupted the silence of the dormitory. He and Hermione had abused her Head Girl power by arranging an unauthorized visit to the Room of Requirement well past curfew. It pleased him that Hermione would so blatantly break the rules for him, and he had certainly enjoyed their snog session. He’d really missed her. No one turned him on quite like his Hermione.

It had been a long and exhausting day, but well worth it to see the look on Snape’s face when Harry had bested him. That moment would go down as one of Ron’s all time favorites. He heard a muffled moan coming from Harry’s bed, and he froze for a moment to listen further. Harry wasn’t thrashing around, and no further sound came from the enclosed bed, so Ron laid down himself. If Harry were dreaming tonight, it should be good dreams, considering his victories today. Ron closed his eyes and very quickly drifted off to sleep.

Ron’s vision cleared slightly, and although the light was dim, he realized he was in some kind of huge cavern. It was made of stone and appeared enormous. The floor was wet, and the walls were covered with slime. The smell of mildew was overpowering; Ron wanted to cover his nose with his shirt but he didn’t think it would help.

As Ron’s vision grew accustomed to the darkness, he could distinguish stone pillars rising to the ceiling in the shape of serpents. A chill ran down his spine as he peered around at all the carvings of snakes throughout the chamber. He had an odd sense of déjà vu, but he couldn’t quite grasp why.

As he moved cautiously into the interior, he noticed an enormous skeleton of what appeared to be a giant serpent lying on the ground. A basilisk! With sickening clarity, Ron suddenly knew exactly where he was; he’d finally managed actually to enter the Chamber of Secrets.

Suddenly, a noise from behind startled him, and he spun around towards the entrance of the Chamber. Harry stood there, looking around the room wildly. He looked terrified, and his hair stood on end as he raced into the room.

“Harry,” Ron shouted, relieved to see his friend. He was stunned when his voice carried no sound.

“Harry,” he tried again. Still nothing.

Ron instantly realized he was trapped within Harry’s nightmare again. Why did this keep happening? The last time Harry had transferred his dream to Ron, it had involved Malfoy Manor. What happened in the Chamber of Secrets that Harry’s subconscious wanted Ron to see?

As Ron watched Harry’s frantic progress into the room, it suddenly occurred to him that Harry wasn’t a twelve-year-old kid. This was Harry as he appeared now. This couldn’t be a memory.

“Ginny,” Harry yelled, racing towards the center of the room.

Ron spun around to face the spot where Harry was looking. There on the cold stone floor, face down at the foot of a statue of a wizard with a monkey’s face, lay his sister. Her hair was spread out around her like a fan, but she wasn’t moving.

Although physically Ron never moved from the spot he was standing, he was suddenly in the center of the Chamber, with Ginny lying at his feet. Harry reached him a moment later.

He could hear Harry’s frantic breathing as he knelt beside Ginny and turned her over. “Ginny,” Harry cried. “Wake up. You have to wake up; we have to get out of here. Please don’t leave me, Ginny.”

Harry shook her lifeless body repeatedly as he pleaded with her to awaken. Ron’s own heart clenched. He didn’t like this dream. What was happening? What happened to Ginny? Why was she here again?

Suddenly, Ginny began to turn her head, but her movement was so slow that it felt like time had slowed to a snail’s pace. She opened her eyes – dead, lifeless eyes with no warmth or sparkle. Ron jerked in horror, but he couldn’t move away.

“Why didn’t you come, Harry?” she sneered.

Harry shook his head, horror and remorse clearly visible in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry’s never good enough, is it, Potter?” Ginny hissed as her eyes turned a bright red, and her features contorted into a distinctly snakelike appearance. Ron could see it was Ginny, but it was also clearly Lord Voldemort speaking.

“So, here we are again, Potter.”

“Let her go,” Harry demanded, clearly enraged.

Ron shook himself from his dazed stupor and tried to force himself to wake. “Wake up, Harry”, he pleaded. “I can’t if you don’t. Just wake up!”

Harry and the Ginny/Voldemort monster stared at each other with such venom and fury that the entire Chamber began to shake. Huge chunks of stone began to fall from the wall and the ceiling. Cracks appeared along the perimeter, and the room began to flood with vile, green murky water.

“You sodden bastard. You’re not going to take her, too. I won’t let you,” Harry snarled.

“Ah, Potter – always the hero. You’re a fool to let her weaken you. Of course, successfully protecting the ones you love isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?” The creature laughed a depraved maniacal sort of laugh that Ron found terrifying.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” Harry said. “Let her go.”

“What are you going to do to me without hurting your precious Ginny?” Ginny/Voldemort sneered. “What are you going to do if I do this?” Suddenly, a long, glistening sword appeared in its hand. The creature raised the sword, and before Harry could even move, he plunged it into Ginny’s chest.

Ginny gasped for breath as her features returned to normal, all traces of Voldemort disappearing from within her.

“Noooooooo,” Harry’s scream echoed within the Chamber as he flung himself towards her. “Ginny. Oh, no, Ginny. Please, no. Don’t do this.”

Ginny gently cupped Harry’s face before her eyes fluttered shut and her limp hand fell to the ground, completely still.

“Noooooooo,” Harry screamed again. A pained, gut-wrenching scream that vibrated with agony.

“No,” Ron cried, sinking to his own knees. He tried desperately to turn away so he wouldn’t be forced to stare at his sister’s dead body. He placed his hands over his ears to muffle the sound of Harry’s tears while his heart broke into a million pieces.

“Noooooooo,” Harry and Ron’s dual cries echoed through the seventh year dormitory, causing all of the boys to jump and sit up in their beds in alarm.

Harry clutched his head in agony; burning waves of searing hot pain were radiating from his scar. His heart hammered in his chest, and he moaned slightly as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Neville asked, pulling back the hangings around Harry’s bed. Harry heard Dean do the same to Ron’s bed.

“What the devil are you two on about?” Seamus demanded nervously.

Ron sat up sharply, gasping for breath. “All right, Harry?” he asked shakily.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Were you with me?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you two on about,” Seamus demanded again, his voice tinged with hysteria.

Before Harry could reply, Ron took a deep gulp of air. He went rigid suddenly, before his eyes became unfocused and his head lolled to the side.

“Ron?” Harry asked, ignoring his own pain. Something is wrong.

Ron began to speak in a loud, harsh voice that didn’t sound at all like his own.

“THE TIME DRAWS NEAR…THE SERVANT SHALL BE SACRIFICIED TO PREPARE FOR A NEW DAWN…THE AGE OF DARKNESS OR LIGHT IS UPON US…THE ROLE OF THE SERVANT SHALL DECIDE, AND THE MIGHTY WILL FALL…HE MUST CHOOSE WISELY IF THE APPRENTICE SHALL REIGN.”

Ron’s head fell forward as if he were asleep, and he grunted before his eyes snapped open.

“Why the hell are you all looking at me like that?” he demanded, staring wildly at the four pairs of eyes all watching him warily.

“Are you all right, Ron?” Neville asked tentatively. “What was all that about the servant and light or darkness?”

“Exactly what have you been drinking, and how come you didn’t share?” Seamus demanded.

“What are you on about?” Ron said. “We had nightmares, that’s all.”

Harry shook his head. Alarm bells were going off in his head at a dizzying speed. He pulled himself up and got shakily to his feet. “No, Ron. That’s not all. We have to go see Professor Dumbledore. Now.”

A/N: One of my faithful reviewers, Spark Soliton on Phoenix Song, has written an outtake of what happened between Harry and Ginny when Ginny learned what Snape said to Harry in Defense class in Chapter 18. The story is called Fury and can be found on PhoenixSong. Net. Go check it out; I’m so pleased with it.

Thanks, as always, go to my wonderful beta, Mistral, for all her help and hard work. You wouldn’t believe how rough this looks before she gets her hands on it. I’ve learned a lot from you, Mistral.

Also, thanks to Dianne and KEDme, for their endless support and encouragement, particularly when I get frustrated with it.