Backwards Compatible
Knife's Edge

By Ruskbyte

Previous Coming Back Home A Disquieting Reunion Return to Hogwarts Disembarking An Overdue Hello Opening Statements Nonessentials Future's History Mixed Reactions Introductory Classes Business as Usual Growing Complications Return Encounters Brewing Storm Knife's Edge In Battle's Wake Reactions to Action A Day in the Life Next

A corona of shimmering energy expanded into being just inside the grounds of Parkinson Lodge. Almost as quickly as it formed it disappeared with a soft pop, revealing the darkly clad form of Harry Potter.

Remaining in place only long enough to regain his bearings after emerging from the Gate, Harry quickly ducked behind one of the two statues which flanked the entrance to the grounds.

Crouched low and pressing against its base, he had to admit that the statue was a perfect adornment for the front lawn of a prominent Slytherin family. It was carved from green marble, flecked with white, and was of a young girl trying to fend off the advances of a wicked looking Satyr. The detail was almost pornographic.

If it weren't for the fact that rescuing Hermione was the foremost thought on his mind, Harry would normally have blushed from the roots of his hair all the way down to his toes. Ignoring the suggestive poses of the statue's figures, Harry carefully peeked out from behind the base and surveyed the scene in front of him.

The Parkinson Lodge, which overlooked the White Cliffs of Dover, was not what you would expect from its name. To begin with, it was more or less the size of a small mansion, rather than a comfortably snug lodge. It seemed not unlike a late sixteenth, or early seventeenth, century manor house.

"See anything?" he asked, glancing at the charcoal grey sphere that was hovering by his right shoulder.

Father, whose senses went far beyond Harry's naked eyesight, replied that it indeed saw a great many things - just as Harry did. If, however, Harry was referring to Death Eaters, guards or anything similar, then its answer was a negative one.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and agreed, "Neither do I."

As he continued to sweep his gaze over the Lodge's front and the expansive lawns before it, Harry pondered what to do first. This very same question was asked a moment later by Father, causing Harry to slip back into hiding behind the statue's base.

"Damned if I know, we never really came up with a set plan for this," he said as he settled into place. He grinned a bit sheepishly at the small ball hovering in front of him and confessed, "Right now, I'm playing it by ear."

Father's comments about rushing in where angels fear to tread, without having even the vaguest notion of what to do, were almost acerbic in their sarcasm. Harry weathered the scathing criticism and turned back to consider the Lodge once more, his eyes flicking over it as he weighed various ideas.

"We don't have a lot of time and Hermione has even less," he declared, aware of this fact more than anything. He was already worried that he had wasted too much time getting here. "We need to find her before anything else," he decided, retreating behind the statue again, not wanting to risk being seen. He glanced at Father's sphere and ordered, "Deploy every surveillance drone we have."

Sounding just a bit incredulous, Father asked for confirmation on that. Did he really want to deploy every surveillance drone they had? Since they had built the drones during the summer and later returned to Hogwarts, they had never deployed more than a dozen of the drones at any time.

Harry nodded decisively and affirmed, "Every last one of them." He nodded back in the direction of the Lodge and said, "I spotted several open windows on the first and second floors. Use those to get inside and then sweep every room until you find her."

Father acknowledged the command and immediately set about completing it. One by one, multiple drones began to drop out of their subspace pockets. The Bludger-sized conglomerations of Muggle circuitry and magical enchantments shimmered into view, gave a quiet beep or two, and then vanished again. Harry stopped counting after the first ten drones were released.

"While the drones are looking for Hermione," he continued, "we're going to let the Death Eaters know of my arrival." In response to Father's query of how he planned to do that, Harry smirked and replied, "Via several kilograms of that high explosive we nicked from the Americans."

Returning his attention to the Lodge, ignoring Father's glee at the chance to cause some mayhem, Harry checked that the coast was clear. Sure that he would not be spotted, he made a quick dash to the nearest tree - beginning his approach to the Lodge, using whatever cover was available.

He could have simply Gated there, but did not think it warranted the expenditure of so much energy. Besides which, he did not want to get to the Lodge before the surveillance drones did.

Resting behind the tree, his back pressed against the trunk, Harry decided to check something with Father. "Come to think of it," he began, absently noting that the tree he was hiding behind was a yew, "now would probably be a good time to activate the dedicated combat drones."

This was something Father was not too sure about. The combat drones, unlike the doppelganger or surveillance drones, had never been put through a test of their functionality. Of course there was nothing to indicate that they would not work perfectly, but the Gatekeeper was an occasional proponent of exercising caution.

"No time like the present," countered Harry.

Father made a somewhat snarky comment about that, seeing as it was actually from twenty-two years in the future, but conceded the point. Without releasing them from their subspace storage, it started bringing the few combat drones they had online.

-oOo-

All was quiet at the Granger household. Inside the house, an attractive two-story, Hermione's parents were enjoying their breakfasts, completely unaware of the fact that they and their surrounds were under constant observation. Just behind and above each of them, an invisible surveillance drone hovered.

Outside, one of the other three drones assigned to the watch over the Grangers was following its programmed route. Being a blend of wizarding magic and Muggle technology, it traced the same path hour after hour, day and night, never tiring and never pausing in its vigil.

It was halfway through its circuit of the front garden, having just passed the second hydrangea bush, when four possible targets entered its field of vision. It paused, as programmed, and focused upon the figures standing on the opposite side of the street from the Granger residence.

Taking note of the black robes and white masks, it marked them as possible Death Eaters and thus potential threats to the safety of its charges. It immediately sent a transmission to Father, as well as the other two drones guarding the property.

Waiting for its companions to converge on its location, the drone watched as the possible targets crossed the street and approached the garden gate. Seeing the leader draw his wand and cast a Silencing Charm on the gate, to stop it from squeaking, the drone confirmed that the targets were wizards and most probably Death Eaters. It informed the two drones inside the house of the situation.

As the Death Eaters walked up the path leading to the front door, the drone checked that its two companions had reached the agreed upon positions. This confirmed, it followed its combat mode programming and phased into real space, emerging directly between the four wizards and their destination. Its two companions did the same, on either side of the approaching Death Eaters.

"What the hell's that?" exclaimed the lead Death Eater, drawing to a halt.

The drone activated its holographic projector and tensile field, assuming the appearance of Harry Potter. It was an older image, stored in its memory barely half way through the summer, and 'Harry' reflected this. Regardless of the slight differences, the Death Eaters easily recognised the figure now standing before them.

"Potter? Here?" asked the one in front. "Impossible."

In accordance to its combat mode programming, and making use of their confused pause, the drone shifted its weapon back into real space. The drone used its tensile field to take hold of the automatic rifle before it could drop to the ground and then took aim.

By now the Death Eaters had spotted the other two drones, which had also activated the holographic projectors that gave them the appearance of Harry Potter.

"Three of them?" muttered one Death Eater, near the back of the four. "What the devil is going on here?"

"We have been instructed to prevent you from causing any injury to the residents of this house," the drone informed them. "As such, we are now required to kill you."

"You must be joking!" blurted another Death Eater.

The drone had no sense of humour. It had not been programmed with one. This is why it took the man's words literally and, in a matter-of-face tone, replied, "We are not programmed to joke."

It checked the sights of its rifle, confirming that its aim was precise. It communicated with its companions, making sure that they were also ready. Seeing that the Death Eaters were beginning to recover, having drawn their wands in preparation to attack, it extended its tensile field around the rifle's trigger and opened fire.

-oOo-

Harry was almost at the Lodge, keeping low and creeping below the ground floor windows when he moved forward. He was only one short run away from reaching the building itself, when Father received the drone's report that a Death Eater incursion was taking place at the Granger home.

Freezing in place, and almost tripping over his feet because of this, he stared at the charcoal grey sphere bobbing just behind him. "What?" he demanded. When Father began to repeat what it had just told him, Harry shook his head and waved for it to stop as he ordered, "Just show me."

The words had barely left his mouth before Father was projecting the video feed from the lead drone directly into Harry's optical nerve, the image superimposing itself over his vision.

-oOo-

In their first reign of terror, more than fifteen years ago, the Death Eaters had very seldom come across Muggle weapons. This was because they, at Lord Voldemort's orders, concentrated their attacks on Muggle-born witches and wizards, leaving ordinary Muggles alone more often than not.

When they did encounter a firearm, it was usually a hunting rifle or shotgun, maybe a pistol. Even then, they were usually able to use their magic before the Muggle in question could do anything to stop them.

Caught completely unawares by the surveillance drones, two of the four Death Eaters were mowed down by the hail of bullets before they even knew what was happening. The other two managed to duck out of the way, just barely, and thus made it through the initial barrage alive.

"Shit!" swore one, who had landed badly and twisted his ankle. He looked up in time to see that the first drone was turning its weapon towards him, as he was nearest to its position. The other two drones, which had flanked the Death Eaters, were taking aim at his surviving comrade. He jerked his wand up and shouted desperately, "Protego!"

The shield sprung up less than a second before the drone fired. The bullets ricocheted against the magical barrier, causing it to light up under the pressure. The Death Eater was visibly strained to maintain the shield and slumped with relief when the rifle's ammunition clip ran empty.

The drone turned its attention away from the Death Eater and ejected the empty clip. It accessed its subspace storage pocket and shifted a fresh clip into real space. It left the other eight where they were.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The drone did not react to the shout and simply took the Killing Curse directly in the middle of its holographic chest, otherwise ignoring it as it focused on reloading its weapon. Since its chest was nothing more than an illusion, given substance via its tensile field, the curse had no effect whatsoever.

"Impossible!" the Death Eater exclaimed. "That should have killed you!"

"I have been instructed to prevent you from causing any injury to the residents of this house," the drone said by way of reply. Unlike some of the more advanced doppelganger units Harry and Father had built towards the end of the summer, the surveillance units had a limited vocabulary. "As such, I am now required to kill you."

"No! Wait!" the panicking man protested as the drone finished reloading, took aim and opened fire again. He tried to raise another shield, but it was too late. "Pro--"

The drone, seeing that its target had taken a full burst to the chest, turned its attention to the last surviving Death Eater. The man in question was caught in the crossfire between the other two drones, a strong Shield Charm protecting him from the incessant gunfire.

He was visibly straining to maintain the shield, however, at the two drones were alternating their fire whenever they had to reload. The drone moved into a position, in concert with its brethren, so that the three were equally spaced around the Death Eater. Once in place, it added its fire to the mix, further straining the Death Eater's shield.

"Please stop! Stop!" he shouted, having lost his mask when he ducked out of the way of the first attack. His face was clearly visible, as was the sweat pouring from it. "I give up! I surrender! Just stop!"

The drone paused as it needed to reload. It ejected the spent clip and slipped in the third of the ten clips it had been issued when deployed to guard the Grangers.

"We have been instructed to prevent you from causing any injury to the residents of this house," it informed the Death Eater, not bothering to raise its voice over the gunfire of its two brother drones. "As such, we are now required to kill you."

"I won't hurt them! I swear!"

Having finished reloading, the drone answered by resuming fire.

"No! Stop! I beg you! Stop!"

The Death Eater's shield was visibly beginning to waver, the strain of holding off three near continuous streams of gunfire rapidly wearing into his magical reserves. "I'll do anything!" the man begged, growing desperate as the shield lit up to an almost blinding intensity. "I'll leave and never come back! I'll turn myself over to the Ministry!"

The drones were not programmed to take prisoners, or to let their targets up and leave. They continued firing, one pausing to reload.

"Please listen--"

He was abruptly cut off of when the shield finally collapsed under the combined fire of the three drones. Caught between them, he was hit from all sides, falling to the ground in a tattered heap. Only then did the drones cease fire.

-oOo-

Harry watched with a sense of detached fascination as the three surveillance drones opened fire on the four Death Eaters and terminated them with extreme prejudice, exactly as he and Father had programmed. A swathe of emotions were swirling about his mind, complimenting the unsettled stirrings of his stomach.

On the one hand Harry was feeling a massive sense of relief that his drones had performed so well, safeguarding Hermione's parents better than he could have hoped. There was also an underlying sense gratification in the knowledge that he, with some help from Father, was the one responsible for their continued safety.

On the other hand, however, Harry was feeling a bit disturbed after seeing how the drones had dealt with their targets, displaying no mercy and giving no quarter. The way they had ignored the Death Eaters' pleas reminded him uncomfortably of how the Death Eaters themselves would have acted. Also, the realization that he had effectively caused the deaths of four people was making him somewhat nauseous.

Swallowing in the hopes of settling his stomach, Harry noted absently, "If the surveillance drones are this effective in combat mode, I think we can rest assured that the dedicated combat drones will be even better."

Sensing Harry's unease, Father quietly agreed.

-oOo-

The three surveillance drones briefly conferred as to what action they should take next. A decision reached, they proceeded to inform the two drones still inside the house that the threat had been neutralised. Receiving acknowledgement from the Granger's personal guards, they moved to visually inspect the Death Eaters, confirming that they were indeed dead.

Following their programming, they fired a single round into the head of each body while inspecting it, regardless of whether or not he was still alive. Of course, none of the four had survived, but Father's programming insisted that they take no chances with such matters.

"Wha - what? What's going on here?"

Hearing the shocked query, the drones turned towards the Granger house. Their charges, Hermione's parents, were cautiously emerging from their home, escorted by the drones specifically assigned to protect them.

"We have been instructed to prevent you from being injured in any way," explained the drone that had first detected the four Death Eaters. "As such, we were required to kill these Death Eaters."

"You... you killed them?" asked Hermione's mother, looking in dull shock at the four bodies strewn about her front garden. "All of them?"

All three of the ground surveillance drones answered in unison, "We acted in accordance to our programming."

Hermione's father grabbed his wife in a hug, holding her close to him as he surveyed the carnage. His face had grown pale and he looked unsteady on his feet. Softly he asked, "What do we do now?"

-oOo-

Harry barely needed to consider how to respond to that question. The idea of leaving the Grangers where they were was a preposterous one, even under the guard of five drones.

Machine gun fire was not the sort of thing you expected to go unnoticed and Harry had no doubts that the local police would soon be arriving. They would be followed shortly by either the Order of the Phoenix, or the Ministry (Dumbledore had set up dark magic detection wards around both the Granger household and the Burrow).

Hopefully they would be able to smooth things over with the Muggles. They could hardly not, seeing as such an incident would be considered to fall under the Statutes of Secrecy. Explaining away the bodies of four Death Eaters would not be an easy task, but magic had a way of accomplishing things like this in less time than you would expect.

The Grangers, however, needed to be moved to a safe location. It was not that Harry thought more Death Eaters would be on the way, at least not right now, but it seemed the more prudent course of action. Only three possibilities presented themselves.

First: Hogwarts. This had the advantage of perhaps being the most secure place of safety on the planet. The problem, however, lay in the fact that once the Grangers arrived, half the school would learn about it. Not long after that, word would doubtless reach Voldemort. Besides which, Hermione had been abducted from Hogwarts not a quarter of an hour before, while put the castle's supposed security in doubt.

Second: The Burrow. This would certainly seem the best option, as the Grangers had met the Weasleys on several occasions and that familiarity would go a long way to calming Hermione's parents down. Unfortunately it was also the least secure of the three locations, not much more than the Granger house. It was also well known to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and would be attacked sometime the following summer (assuming Voldemort did not accelerate that as well).

"Get them to Grimmauld Place," Harry told Father, selecting the only choice left. With Kreacher disposed of, courtesy of Remus Lupin, and the house itself hidden under a Fidelius Charm, with Dumbledore as the secret keeper, it was the one place Voldemort did not know the location to. Not for several more years at least.

Father immediately transmitted the orders and Harry watched as the drones rushed the two Grangers into their car, the drone assigned to Hermione's father taking the driver's seat. Only after the car had pulled out of their driveway and started down the road, did Harry have Father cut the transmission.

About to breath a sigh of relief and comment that at least this had gone according to plan, Harry paused when he noticed that Father's charcoal grey sphere had frozen in place. This, he knew, was an indication that something important had come to the Gatekeeper's attention.

"What is it?" he asked eagerly. "Have you found her?"

Beginning to move once again, Father bobbed up and down in acknowledgement, informing Harry that one of the several dozen surveillance drones they had released had located Hermione.

The drone had been trailing one of the two Death Eaters that were roaming about the house, on guard duty no doubt. When the man had briefly opened the door, to banter with his comrades, the drone had spotted Hermione. Slipping past just before the door was pulled shut; it was currently maintaining a position that afforded it a viewpoint overlooking the entire room.

"Is she okay? Have they done anything to her yet?"

Father answered by bringing up the drone's visual scans for Harry to watch.

-oOo-

Hermione was in a bad spot. A very bad spot. In point of fact, she did not think anything she had ever gone through, in all her adventures with Harry, could compare to this.

She was dancing for Lucius Malfoy and three of his companions, swinging about and smiling saucily at them as she slowly stripped her clothes off. Unable to fight the compulsion of the Imperious Curse she had already removed her robe, her sweater and just now finished unbuttoning her blouse.

Slinking up to Lucius, who was watching her display with a lecherous smirk, Hermione lifted her hands over her head and reached upward. This had the unfortunate effect of causing her undone blouse to part, duly exposing her bra-clad breasts for all to see.

Lucius reached out and languidly traced the bottom curve of her breasts, the feather-light touch bringing undesired goosebumps to Hermione's flesh. Never in her life had she ever felt so utterly humiliated, so used, and could feel the heat in her cheeks as she blushed - from ever mounting shame and anger.

"Mmm, very nice," Lucius commented, his fingers trailing up through the valley of her breasts. He smirked and turned to ask his companions, "Don't you agree, lads?"

"Aye!"

"Yeah, but she's taking too long!" protested the one called Cowan.

"You heard Cowan, my little mudblood," Lucius said, turning back to Hermione. He shifted his hand so that he was cupping her breast and gently eased her away from him, so that she would have more room to dance. "Hurry it up!"

Despite her best efforts to resist, the Imperious Curse forced Hermione to answer, her voice unwillingly husky and seductive as she purred, "Yes, Master Lucius."

Immediately resuming her strip tease, she reached up and began to gently ease her blouse off. The soft fabric had just slipped down, exposing one shoulder, when the entire building was shaken by a large explosion that sent both her and all four Death Eaters tumbling to the floor.

"What in the nether hells was that?" demanded Lucius as he pushed himself back up.

"I don't know," answered the Death Eater nearest the door. The man stood up and made a show of brushing down his robes as he guessed, "An explosion of some sort."

"Idiot!" Lucius snapped. "I could tell that for myself!"

Hermione, having also risen to her feet, continued to dance - the curse preventing her doing anything else. Her blouse had by now slipped completely off her left shoulder, so she began to gyrate in a way designed to cause it to start sliding off the opposite shoulder as well.

Lucius, however, was ignoring her completely as he faced the other three men. He was standing tall, looking every bit the part of a proud aristocrat. "What I want to know is what caused it!" he barked. "What's happening outside?"

Continuing her dance, her blouse now hanging from her elbows, a single thought blossomed through the blissful haze of the Imperious Curse and caused Hermione's artificial smile to broaden into a real one.

Harry had come for her.

-oOo-

Harry stepped through the front door of Parkinson Lodge, or what was left of it. When Father had projected the image of Hermione being forced to perform a strip tease for Lucius and the others, any thoughts of subtlety left Harry's mind as he went from cool and collected to near blind rage in under a second.

He had stormed across the grounds, ignoring the risk of being seen by someone inside, and tried to kick the front doors open. Finding the thick oak to be stronger than his legs and booted feet, Harry attached a wad of explosive, provided by Father, and promptly set it off. He could have used the Gatekeeper's fields to produce a similar effect, but he wasn't really thinking all that clearly.

Also driving him on was the return of the headache that had been plaguing him earlier, during breakfast. It had returned with a vengeance and the dull throbbing in his temples, and occasional sharp jolt, served to only fuel his anger to even greater heights.

"Where is she?" he demanded. "Highlight the most direct route."

Father helpfully projected a floor plan of the Lodge over Harry's vision and traced a path from the entrance hall to the room Hermione was being held in.

Harry absorbed the information, weighing whether or not to use the layout of the corridors and halls to his advantage, or simply force his way forward.

"Are the combat drones ready?" he asked. Father answered in the positive. Harry's eyes narrowed and he ordered, "Bring them out of subspace and proceed as we discussed."

As Father began to do just that, Harry surveyed the room, making sure that nobody was about to spring out and start throwing curses at him. His anger was great enough to match anything he had ever felt, perhaps equal to when he had been in Dumbledore's office at the end of his fifth-year, but he retained enough control to not go charging in blindly.

Glancing at Father's sphere, absently noting one of the combat drones shimmering into view nearby, he asked, "Do you know where the other two Death Eaters are? The ones that aren't with Hermione?"

As if in answer, the two Death Eaters in question burst into the entrance hall. They stumbled about for a moment on the debris strewn floor before securing their footing.

Noting their arrival Harry remarked, "Don't worry, I've found them.

Father made a rejoinder that, in actual fact; they had found him.

"You! Stop right there!" shouted the taller of the two Death Eaters, lifting up his wand and taking aim at Harry, who was standing in place and regarding them with an evaluating eye.

"Careful! Don't kill him," cautioned the second Death Eater, reaching out with his free hand to grab the other's arm and force his aim down and away from Harry's face. "That's Potter - the Dark Lord wants him alive."

"Fortunately, I don't have to worry about that," Harry commented, asking Father to make the plasma rifle available. It shifted into being right in front of him and dropped into his hands a moment later.

Checking the settings display on the one side, Harry thumbed the safety off and levelled the rifle at the two wizards standing opposite him. They clearly had no idea what to make of the weapon he has holding. The short one made as if to speak, but Harry squeezed the trigger and mowed them down with two quick bursts of blue fire.

The brightness of the plasma rounds hurt his eyes and did nothing to ease Harry's headache, but he still gave a thin smile of satisfaction as he lowered the barrel. Regarding the two bodies, he also experienced some surprise and noted, "That was easier than expected."

Father replied that he should start moving and worry about details like that later. According to the surveillance drone keeping watch on her, Hermione had just removed her blouse.

"Right," Harry agreed, shaking his head and cursing himself for getting distracted.

Checking the map Father was still projecting over his retina, Harry headed towards the staircase. Hermione was on the third floor and going straight up was the most direct route to her.

As he walked past, one of the fallen Death Eaters gave a feeble twitch. It most probably just a muscle spasm, which happened to dead bodies from time to time. Harry was unwilling to take the chance. He paused just long enough to fire another round of plasma charges into the man's unprotected back.

"Just making sure."

He was about to continue on to the stairs when something gave him pause. He stopped in place and regarded the charred remains at his feet. An idea was beginning to form.

-oOo-

In the upstairs room where Hermione was being held, the sound of plasma rifle fire echoing through the building had managed to unnerve the four Death Eaters. Wizarding attacks did not sound like that, though Hermione recognised the distinct noise made by the weapon the twins had built for Harry.

"What was that?"

"Damned if I know."

Hermione was still dancing, since Lucius had not bothered ordering her to stop, and had just discarded her blouse. This left her in only her bra and skirt, causing her to feel understandably vulnerable. Still, her courage was bolstered by the knowledge that Harry was coming to her rescue.

"I don't care what it was," Lucius was saying. He pointed to the door and ordered, "Get out there and kill whoever's stupid enough to attack us."

"What if it's Potter?"

"Don't be ridiculous," sneered Cowan. "Potter's still at Hogwarts. He probably doesn't even know that the mudblood bitch is missing. There's no possible way that he could be here."

"To hell if it's Potter or not," growled Lucius. "Go downstairs and help Charleston and Dunkeld take care of things."

"What about you and Cowan?"

"Somebody has to make sure they don't get to the girl if you botch things up," Lucius explained. He pointed at the door again and commanded, "Now go!" The two younger Death Eaters, clearly Lucius' subordinates in this matter, drew their wands and quickly exited the room. Once the door swung shut, Lucius turned to Cowan and shook his head, muttering, "Idiots."

Sneaking up behind Lucius, Hermione pounced and wrapped her arms around him. Pressing up against his back, she played her hands over his chest in a come-hither manner, the Imperious Curse driving her to become bolder in her approach, since he seemed distracted from the more subdued dancing.

"Dammit, girl, get off me!" Lucius turned and pushed her away, knocking her to her knees in the process. He glared unhappily at her, especially when she scrabbled to her feet and tried to approach him again. "Enough!" he said, raising his wand, and exclaimed, "Finite Incantatem!"

Hermione slumped to the floor as the curse was lifted, the relief she felt indescribable.

"Now, Miss Granger, you will sit back down in that chair and not move a muscle," Lucius informed her, pointing to the back of the room. "And if you try to call for help, I promise you it will only serve to make what we have planned for you, once this small interruption is dealt with, even worse than it would be."

Scrambling to pick up her blouse and sweater, Hermione returned to the chair she had woken up in. She quickly tugged on her blouse and began to button it up. As her fingers worked, she watched as Lucius and Cowan kept a close eye on the door to the room.

"It is Harry, you know," she said.

"What?" asked Lucius. He glanced back at her. "I thought I told you to keep quiet."

"No you didn't. You told me not to move a muscle and not to call for help," Hermione observed, moving on to the next button. "I'm doing neither, just informing you that Harry is coming for me."

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that it is most certainly not Mister Potter out there."

"And I assure you, Mister Malfoy," she countered, "it is."

Lucius crossed to her with long strides, just as she finished buttoning up, and backhanded her hard enough to knock her right out of the chair and to the floor.

"It is not Potter!" he hissed, reaching down to grab her by the throat and lift her up to his face. "Your idiot little boyfriend is not coming to your rescue. Nobody is going to rescue you. You're ours --to do with as we please-- and nothing will change that!"

"Temper, temper," she managed to choke out.

This infuriated him even more and he responded by slapping Hermione across the face with his free hand. The first blow rattled her teeth. The second rattled everything else. By the third and fourth, her cheeks and face were too hot and numb to feel it properly, though her head did snap back and forth.

Once the rain of blows stopped, Hermione spent a moment to regain her bearings. She could feel a thin trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. She looked up into Lucius' furious grey eyes and asked, "Struck a nerve, did I?"

"You troublesome little bitch!"

Lucius threw her back into the chair, the wooden frame digging painfully into her back. Before she could recover, he waved his wand and the straps fastened around her wrists and ankles, just as they had been when she had woken. She struggled against them, but was once again trapped in the chair.

"If you utter a single word," Lucius threatened, "I will take it out of your mudblood hide, understand?"

Hermione was stoically silent, but glared back at him. This only served to aggravate him further; apparently he was expecting an answer. Lucius grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back painfully, exposing her throat as he leaned over her.

"I asked if you understood."

"Yes."

"Excellent."

A thin smile of satisfaction was on his face and he was in the process of releasing his hold on her hair, when the door burst open with a bang. Lucius whirled around to face it, his wand at the ready and a curse on his lips. He froze as it became obvious that it was actually another Death Eater that had forced his way inside.

"Dunkeld!" exclaimed Cowan, obviously recognising the new arrival.

The man's robes were torn up and charred in placed, the front covered in blood. He was gasping for breath and looked as if he was about to drop dead, or very near to it. He managed a choked gasp before falling to his knees, unable to support himself on his own feet any longer. Lucius and Cowan rushed to him, keeping him from falling over.

"Gods, man," Cowan breathed as Lucius cast a Locking Charm on the door. "What happened? What's going on?"

"So many..."

"So many what?" repeated Lucius. He gave the bleeding man's shoulder a shake and demanded, "So many what, Dunkeld?"

"Men... a dozen... dark clothes," Dunkeld answered in a choked voice. He coughed thickly several times before continuing, "Used strange weapons... blue light... fire..."

"What happened to Charleston?" asked Lucius. "And those twits I sent to help you, McGaulaugh and Bothwell?"

Dunkeld weakly shook his head and wheezed, "Charl... dead..."

Cowan clutched Dunkeld's shoulder and asked, "McGaulaugh and Bothwell?"

"Don... know..."

A loud burst of noise interrupted the interrogation, causing Lucius and Cowan to jump up and aim their wands at the door. Without their support, Dunkeld collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Making sure not to draw attention to herself, Hermione struggled to repress a gleeful gasp. Of everyone present, only she recognised the sound as machine gun fire. This, she felt was proof that Harry was coming to her rescue. Why else would the attackers be using guns? She absently noted that it sounded different in real life to what she had heard in the movies.

"What now?" asked Lucius, worry creeping into his voice.

"That sounded like it came from the first floor," said Cowan.

The silence that had fallen after the initial outburst came to an end with the sounds of frantic shouting and spell casting, interspersed amidst smattering of further gunfire.

"That's Bothwell," said Cowan after one particularly loud shout. "He must have found them."

"Or they him," countered Lucius darkly.

A prolonged wheeze from Dunkeld drew the two Death Eaters back to their fallen companion. Lucius visibly grit his teeth and motioned to Cowan, "Get him back, away from the door, and do what you can to help him." He glanced at the door and quickly cast several more Locking Charms, these ones more intricate than the first. "We're going to need his help."

"Should we call for help?" asked Cowan, squatting down next to Dunkeld.

"There aren't any floo connections on this floor," answered Lucius.

"We could leave."

Lucius shook his head and continued to regard the door. "Not until I've had a look at them."

Cowan seemed to understand and grew silent as he began dragging Dunkeld further into the room, coincidentally bringing him near to where Hermione was sitting. She watched them for a few moments, noticing the faint trail of blood that Dunkeld was leaving on the floor. She turned her attention to Lucius.

"Why bother?" she asked.

"I warned you, mudblood, to keep you mouth shut."

"You don't need to have a look at them," she continued, ignoring the warning. "I've already told you who it is."

"It is not Potter."

"Keep telling yourself that."

By now Cowan had settled Dunkeld on the floor, next to Hermione, and was looking him over. For a Death Eater, the man seemed rather unsettled by the blood on the injured wizard's robes.

"You are trying my patience, girl," Lucius warned, half turning away from the door.

"And that's supposed to scare me?"

"It should," he confirmed, "if you were as smart as Draco says you are."

"You're planning on humiliating me, degrading me, raping me, forcing my parents to watch, killing them after that and then manipulating my mind until I'm suicidal," Hermione rattled off. She gave a shrug and went on, "Forgive me if making you lose your patience doesn't seem all that scary by comparison."

Lucius turned to face her fully, his lips bared in a narrow snarl as he levelled his wand at her. "The point of using you like that was to teach Potter a lesson," he hissed softly, through clenched teeth. "Much the same can be accomplished by simply killing you."

Hermione felt a lump form in her throat and began to worry that maybe she had provoked him just a little too much. She tried desperately to think of something to say that would placate him long enough for Harry to arrive, when another burst of gunfire sounded, this one much closer than the last.

"That sounded almost outside the door!" exclaimed Cowan, abandoning his ministrations on Dunkeld and jumping to his feet, wand held at the ready.

"It was," confirmed Dunkeld, who clearly surprised Cowan by sitting up without any apparent effort.

Before Cowan, or Lucius, could react to their companion's statement, the door to the room was literally torn off its hinges and flung aside. Stepping calmly through the now gaping entrance, as if he were out for a stroll, Harry entered the room.

"Knock knock," he intoned.

Dressed in dark, form-fitting clothes and wearing what looked like a bullet-proof jacket over that, the letters S.W.A.T. emblazoned on its front in bright yellow, Harry looked more like a soldier from an invading Muggle army than a wizard. He was holding a generic looking automatic rifle in his hands, which seemed large and bulky against his slender frame.

Harry shifted the machine gun to one side and fired a short burst into an unsuspecting Cowan. The bullets tore into the Death Eater, who only had time for one brief shriek before the multiple impacts knocked him back and off his feet. Showing no reaction at all to having just perforated Cowan, Harry turned towards Lucius.

"Dunkeld!" Lucius yelled, panic in his voice. "Kill the mudblood!"

Dunkeld managed to turn his wand towards Hermione before Harry could open fire on Lucius. Seeing the new threat to her well-being, Harry froze in place. The gun remained levelled at Lucius' stomach, but otherwise Harry did not move.

"If Potter so much as breaths the wrong way... kill her," ordered Lucius, visibly struggling not to show the relief he must have been feeling.

"Yeah," confirmed Dunkeld hoarsely.

Hermione grit her teeth and cursed silently. It was a classic standoff, the kind of thing you would expect to see in an old cowboy movie, not real life. Harry and Lucius were standing opposite each other; gun and wand at the ready respectively. Dunkeld was holding her as the hostage to keep Harry from firing.

Lucius had seemingly recovered from almost ending up the same as Cowan and regarded Harry with a superior smirk. He raised his head and began, "Well, Potter--"

"Release Hermione," ordered Harry.

"Or what, Potter?" asked Lucius, annoyed at being interrupted.

"I'll kill you."

Lucius ran his eyes critically over the machine gun and sniffed disdainfully. "How do you plan to do that without your wand?" he asked scornfully.

"Wand?" repeated Harry. He hefted the weapon he was holding and noted, "I don't need a wand."

"You honestly think some Muggle toy can match a fully trained wizard?"

"Yes."

Harry's matter-of-fact tone seemed to surprise Lucius, leaving him momentarily unsure of how to respond. Hermione, who was starting to get a little nervous during this standoff, chose this moment to speak up.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"Rescuing you."

Hermione stared incredulously at him, wondering how he could misunderstand. She had been referring to the fact that he and Lucius were having a staring contest, with her as prize. Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "And who the hell is going to rescue you?"

"Surrender, Potter. Now," demanded Lucius. "Or your beloved Miss Granger will be killed."

"Which one do you plan to kill first?" asked Harry in return.

Lucius shook his head at this apparently nonsensical answer and asked, "What are you babbling about?"

Harry's expression did not change. In fact, it had not wavered since he had entered the room. He simply regarded Lucius and repeated, somewhat more clearly, "Which Hermione will you kill first?"

"What do you mean, 'which Hermione'?"

"Um..." came an uncertain reply from behind Hermione.

Lucius risked a quick glance to see what Dunkeld, who was the one that had spoken, wanted. The look of utmost surprise that flashed across his face, caused Hermione to wonder what was wrong.

She glanced to the left and saw nothing. She glanced to the right... and found herself staring at herself. Two of herself, to be precise.

"Three of her?" asked Lucius dumbly. "Impossible."

Hermione blinked, not understanding what was going on. She regarded her two unexplained twins, who were acting in much the same manner as she was. They would cast anxious glances from Harry to Lucius, as well looking curiously at her and each other.

Slowly she began to realize that Harry had somehow managed to deploy some decoys to confuse her captors. Probably newer versions of the Doppelganger Unit he had used over the summer to fool them into thinking he was still at Privet Drive.

"Dammit, Dunkeld," complained Lucius. "Which one's the real one?"

"Don't know," Dunkeld replied.

"How can't you? You were supposed to be watching her!"

"I was watching Potter..."

If Lucius was nonplussed at the appearance of two additional Hermiones, he became utterly confused when a second Harry stepped into the room. Also carrying a Muggle machine gun, the new arrival quickly took up a position to the immediate right of the first Harry that had entered.

"The lodge has been secured," the second Harry informed the first. "All Death Eaters have been accounted for."

"What is going on here?" asked Lucius, his normally calm demeanour beginning to slip.

"Specially designed and built Combat Drones have been deployed, armed with Muggle automatic weaponry, to secure Parkinson Lodge and allow Harry to concentrate all effort on rescuing Hermione," answered the first Harry, still in the same bland voice he had been using since he arrived.

"Drones?" Hermione repeated. It made sense, she realized, that Harry would use his drones to allow him to fight superior numbers without risking anyone other than himself. In fact, she was beginning to suspect that the first Harry to enter was also a drone. That might explain his lack of glasses.

"You're trying to confuse me," announced Lucius, shifting his gaze (and his wand) back and forth from one Harry to the other. "You're using Polyjuice Potion or something similar."

"Drone's cannot drink potions," replied both Harrys in frightening unison.

"Surrender while you can, Potter," insisted Lucius. He drew himself up and revealed, "We dispatched four Death Eaters earlier to abduct Granger's parents. They'll be back any moment now."

The impact of this statement was lessened by the entry of a third Harry, which stepped into the room and assumed station to the first Harry's left. It regarded Lucius for a moment before informing him, "The Death Eaters you are referring to have already been terminated and Hermione's parents are currently en route to a place of safety."

Hermione could not help but cry in relief upon hearing this, the tears sliding down her bruised cheeks. Despite being as good as rescued, she knew Harry would succeed; she had still been very worried about her parent's well-being.

Until now she had only had the hope that her parents would be unharmed when Nott and the others brought them here, where Harry would have some chance of rescuing them as well. Hearing that the would-be abductors had been dealt with was a great weight lifted from her shoulders.

"You're bluffing," said Lucius. "Nott and the others can't be dead."

"They were killed by three surveillance drones less than five minutes ago," asserted the third Harry.

"They never even made it to the Granger's front door," added the second.

Their statements were punctuated by the arrival of a fourth Harry, who was quickly followed by a fifth. Looking the five young 'wizards' over, Hermione could not decide which one was the real Harry. Each one was a perfect replica, visually, and if Harry were playing the part, he could masquerade as a drone very easily.

If that were the case, then she would need to spot the one Harry that was hiding his emotions, rather than simply not having any emotions to begin with. Unfortunately, the complete lack of expression on the faces of all five Harrys' made this next to impossible.

"Release Hermione," insisted the first Harry.

"No," replied Lucius scathingly. He reached into his robes with his free hand and pulled out a second wand.

"Hey, that's mine!" Hermione exclaimed, recognising the wand as her own. She could have hit herself, had her arms not been restrained, for this was sure to give her away as being the real Hermione. Luckily though, her two doppelgangers made the very same exclamation at roughly the same time. The stereo effect of all three of them speaking in concert was a little disconcerting.

Lucius aimed his wand at Hermione and the other at the Hermione doppelganger directly to her right, the one in the middle of the three. "Dunkeld," he ordered, "cover the third one."

Dunkeld nodded and pointed his wand at the doppelganger on the far side from Hermione.

"Surrender, Potter, or the mudblood dies," said Lucius, an edge of hysteria in his voice. Hermione watched as he grinned viciously. "I'm sure you'll kill us in the process, but I doubt you'll be fast enough to stop us before all three of them receive a Killing Curse. Rest assured, your precious Miss Granger will die."

For a moment it seemed that the Harrys would not do as Lucius demanded, but then the first Harry lowered the barrel of his gun so that it was no longer aimed at Lucius. The other four Harry's did likewise.

Lucius nodded and crowed victoriously, "Smart boy." He jerked his head at the weapons and ordered, "Now drop those Muggle toys and--"

"You talk too much."

Lucius had only enough time to turn and gape at Dunkeld, who had interrupted him. Hermione watched in disbelief as the injured Death Eater drew from his robes what could only be a Muggle pistol. He took aim and squeezed the trigger, unloading round after around in rapid succession.

A few flecks of Lucius' blood sprayed onto Hermione's face, causing her to flinch back in the chair. She did not blink, however, her eyes wide open and locked on Lucius. Horrified fascination filled her as she watched him fall to the floor, his chest riddled with bullet holes and an expression of dumb disbelief etched on his face.

"If you're going to try and kill somebody, then get on with it," Dunkeld remarked scornfully in a deafening quiet that follow. "Don't waste everyone's time by talking."

Hermione managed to tear her eyes aware from Lucius' bloody body and stared across at him in surprise, not really comprehending what had just happened.

Dunkeld rose to his feet, surprisingly nimble for someone that looked only a step or two from death's door. He glanced over at something by his shoulder that Hermione could not see and said, "Okay, Father, disengage the holographic matrix."

She watched in mute disbelief as 'Dunkeld' shimmered like a television shorting out, revealing none other than Harry Potter. A moment later the gobstone-sized sphere that was Father appeared near his shoulder. Hermione stared at him for a second and tentatively asked, "Harry?"

"The one and only," he answered with a grin. He glanced at the five drone 'Harrys' still standing by the doorway and corrected himself, "Or at least, the only real one."

Hermione began to comprehend that 'Dunkeld' had in fact been Harry all along, using Father's holographic abilities to impersonate the real Death Eater. Harry quickly discarded the bloodstained robes her was wearing, revealing an identical outfit to what the drones appeared to be wearing. He knelt down next to her, the other two Hermiones (and their chairs) disappearing to reveal the pseudo-technological doppelganger drones.

"Let me get these off you," he said, fingering the straps.

"You shot him," Hermione said, looking from Harry to Lucius' body and then back. The reality of the situation had still not fully set in.

Harry glanced down at the pistol he was still holding in his right hand, as if surprised to see it there. He tossed it aside, where it hung in the air for a second (most likely thanks to Father) and then shimmered out of sight.

Harry looked at her, his face slightly pale, and explained, "At least I know I won't be sent straight to Azkaban for using it, rather than a Killing Curse. This way, at least I'll get a proper trial." He ducked his eyes and drew his wand, waving it over the straps holding her in the chair. "Finite Incantatem."

The straps binding her arms released first, followed by the ones around her ankles. Hermione remained in place, reaching up to rub at her wrists in an attempt to restore circulation. She regarded Harry thoughtfully as she did, seeing that he was beginning to react to everything he must have done in order to come and rescue her.

Naturally the next thing Hermione did was throw herself out of the chair and into Harry's startled arms. Clutching herself to his lean body, she very nearly squeezed the life out of him with the strength of her hug.

-oOo-

Harry just stood there, enjoying the warmth and softness of Hermione's embrace. He stroked soothing circles on her back, trying to let her know that everything was fine now and that she was safe. Having experienced something similar, namely Voldemort's resurrection during the third task, Harry could imagine how she was feeling.

Finally, after what must have been several minutes, Hermione broke off the hug and backed away enough to look him in the face. She stayed close to him though, her body pressing lightly against him and both arms still wrapped around him. She stared at him for a few seconds, as if she couldn't quite believe that she was really seeing him.

"You came after me."

"Of course I did," he answered with a grin. "I always do."

"I knew you would," she admitted and relaxed into his arms. Obviously feeling comfortable, she rested her head on his chest and jokingly asked, "What took you so long?"

"Time travel... tricky business," Harry replied lightly. He gently pulled her away from him again and ran an appraising eye over her, scanning for any injuries. "You all right?"

"I've been better," she ruefully admitted, "but they didn't have a chance to do anything besides look."

This Harry already knew, having had a constant video feed of her captivity until he had entered the room. It was what Lucius and the others might have done to her before that worried him. He was relieved to know that they had not taken any liberties with her. He had, however, seen Lucius hit her several times for her assertions that he was coming to rescue her.

He reached up and softly stroked the back of his hand over her tearstained cheek. "Your cheeks are bruised," he told her, dropping his hand so his fingers could play over her swollen mouth, "and you have a split lip."

"I was a bit... insolent at times."

"You mean you provoked him."

"Well... yeah."

"Not the smartest thing to do, Nee," he said, not sure whether he was joking or being serious about it.

Hermione looked incredulously at him and indicated the entire lodge, as well as the fallen body of Lucius, with a wave of her hand. "And this is?"

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "Well..."

"This was your plan to rescue me, hmm?" she asked teasingly. "Come charging in, bombs going off left and right, guns blazing all the while?"

"It worked!"

"You had to be dramatic about this, didn't you?" she said, sighing theatrically and shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"I'm like Sherlock Holmes that way," he countered matter-of-factly.

It happened so quickly, and unexpectedly, that neither Harry nor Hermione had time to react. Even Father failed to take any action, having been busy recalling all the many assorted drones scattered about the Lodge and its grounds. Later in life Hermione would joke, to Harry's displeasure, that it was a defeat that was nearly snatched from the jaws of victory.

Cowan, it seemed, was not as dead as everyone originally thought. While the first of the combat drones had fired a burst into him, a dozen rounds in total, it had not followed up by confirming the kill. Thus it was that the badly wounded Death Eater was able to take them by complete surprise when he struck.

With a hoarse bellow, Cowan jerked to his feet and lunged at the young couple. He slammed into them with enough force to knock them both back, but not off their feet. A shrill cry alerted Harry to the fact that Hermione had been injured. He held onto her, supporting her weight, as Cowan stumbled back, barely staying on his feet.

"Bastard!" Harry spat, the fury he had felt earlier returning to him.

He reacted without any conscious thought, completely on instinct, and prompted Father to hit Cowan with the full strength of its fields. Father's emotions and moods almost always mirrored Harry's own, so the Gatekeeper responded as desired almost as quickly as Harry's intent was formed.

The gravity manipulation fields at Father's disposal were powerful enough to fold and twist space, which was what forming a Gate entailed. Projected outwards at full strength, they instantly reduced Cowan into a fine red mist. Losing not even a fraction of their power, the fields continued outwards and ripped apart everything within their ten metre radius. The wall behind where Cowan had been standing was demolished instantly (as was a good portion of the room behind it).

It took a moment, during which he stared dumbly at the red smear Cowan had become, before what had just happened began to set into Harry's mind. Swallowing convulsively, he croaked, "God, I think I'm going to throw up again."

He was shaken from his stupor by Father, who loudly informed him that he should keep his mind focused on important matters and worry more about Hermione's condition that Cowan's remains.

"Hermione!"

Feeling that she was leaning heavily against him, Harry gently eased Hermione to the floor. He laid her out as carefully as he could, freezing with each gasp of pain. He found, to his horror, that his hands were growing slick with blood, which directed his focus to a knife of some sort that Cowan had apparently jammed into Hermione's side.

"Hermione?" he asked, "You okay?"

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears, and lied, "I-I think so."

Looking at the knife, Harry could literally feel the blood draining from his face as he blanched. A quick query to Father revealed that it was buried to the hilt in Hermione's side. Fortunately, by some stroke of luck, the blade had not cut into anything vital. The only danger at the moment was that of blood loss, which the Gatekeeper believed would taper off before too long.

"Try not to move too much," he told her. "It'll hurt less."

"Pull it out!" Hermione insisted, her voice tight with pain. "Then it'll hurt a hell of a lot less!"

Harry moved to grip the hilt and do as she asked, reasoning that if anyone knew what to do in a situation like this, it was Hermione. He blinked in surprise when Father stopped him, actually using one of its fields to prevent his hand from moving. Before he could ask why the Gatekeeper was doing this, Father informed him of something that caused the bottom to fall out of his stomach.

He looked at Hermione, who was waiting expectantly for his to remove the knife, and shook his head. "I can't."

She glared balefully at him and insisted, "You bloody well can!"

"If I do, you'll die," he said.

Taking a calming breath, Hermione spoke in what must have been the most calming voice she could muster. This was not saying very much, but it was an improvement on her last few sentences. "I'm sure you can get me to Madam Pomfrey before I bleed to death," she said, obviously believing the fear of that happening was what had stayed his hand.

Harry grimly matched her gaze and revealed, "You'd be dead a second after I pull the blade out."

She looked at him for a moment, not sure what to make of it, but picking up the seriousness in his voice. She swallowed nervously and asked, "What?"

"I'll explain later," Harry told her. "Right now, we have to get out of here."

"Okay," she replied weakly as he slipped one arm behind her back and the other under her legs. He hoisted her into the air, but despite the care he took Hermione gasped and moaned with pain as Harry lifted her up, cradled in his arms. "Ah!"

"Sorry," he apologised, contrite at his failure to handle her with the utmost care.

"No, s'okay," she assured him.

After asking Father to retrieve Hermione's wand from Lucius' body, Harry waited impatiently for the last of the combat drones to enter to the room. Its arrival brought the total of faux Harrys to six. Joining the five drones already present, the drone gave its report. "All the charges are now in place, as ordered."

Nodding his acknowledgement, Harry waited for Father to collect the six combat drones and return them to their storage pockets in subspace. Once the last drone had shimmered out of sight, he told Father where he wanted to go and held Hermione close to him. "Hold tight, Nee," he told her.

"Where are we going?" she asked through teeth clenched in pain. "Back to Hogwarts?"

"Barcelona."

Hermione began to nod in understanding, but froze as the word registered fully. She looked up at him, obviously ignoring the pain such a move must have caused, and asked incredulously, "What?!"

Before he could answer, Father opened a Gate around both Harry and Hermione and transported them to safety. Barely a minute after they left, the explosive charges set around the building's foundations detonated. The entire lodge shuddered, quaked and slowly collapsed in on itself.

-oOo-

"THAT IDIOT! HE SHOULD'VE LET US GO WITH HIM!"

To say that Ron Weasley was aggravated would be a gross understatement. He, as well as Ginny, Neville and Luna, was currently sequestered in the small flat that Harry had sent them to about fifteen minutes earlier.

It was, he had to admit, a nice and cosy place to live. Its warm, bright colours reminded him of the Burrow, albeit a lot less cluttered. It was obviously a bachelor's flat, having only one bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen and the lounge where the Ministry Crew were currently waiting.

Pacing back and forth in agitation, Ron considered his three companions.

Neville was sitting in one of the three armchairs, the one nearest the Muggle trollivision. He was resting his left foot on his right knee and was impatiently tapping his fingers against the chair's arm rests. Ginny was sitting on the lone couch, elbows propped on her knees, and talking in low tones with Luna, who was sitting alongside her.

Of them all, Luna was the only one that seemed completely unaffected by the fact that Hermione had been kidnapped and that Harry had rushed off to her rescue, leaving the rest of them behind. Of course, Luna had a way of seeming unaffected even in the face of an approaching Killing Curse, but still...

"How the bloody hell could he trick us like that?" he demanded, whirling around on his heel as he stomped back to where he had just come from.

"He's only trying to protect us, Ron," Ginny tried to explain with a hint of impatience. "We've discussed this already."

"Well, I'm not satisfied with the answer," Ron countered scathingly.

"What is wrong with the answer we've arrived at?" asked Luna curiously.

"He left us behind!"

"Actually, he sent us here," corrected Neville.

"You know what I mean!"

Luna bobbed her head from side to side and admitted, "Seldom, if ever."

Ron glared at her as he paced past where she and Ginny were sitting. He reached behind his back and clasped his hands together, asking, "Why can't he let us help?" His voice rose up in protest as he asserted, "We could've helped!"

"He doesn't want us getting hurt," said Neville, who had stopped tapping his fingers and clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back in his armchair.

"Who says we'd get hurt?" Ron snapped unhappily. He waved a clenched fist at Neville and insisted, "We've been training in the DA since the start of term! We're the best duellers in the school!"

"We also got our arses handed to us at the Department of Mysteries, last year," noted Ginny.

"That was different! We were set up!"

Ron threw himself into one of the two free armchairs, almost toppling it over in the process. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered unhappily at his friends and sister.

"I'll admit we got a bit roughed up," said Neville, "but I think we did rather well at the Department of Mysteries."

"They broke your nose, Neville," Ginny reminded him.

Neville shrugged and said, "They could have killed me."

Ginny arched an eyebrow and replied, "They did kill Sirius."

"Maybe," Neville allowed with another shrug, "but you have to admit; it's not every day that six kids hold off a dozen fully trained Death Eaters."

"That's right!" Ron exclaimed, pleased that someone seemed to be on his side. Unable to remain still any longer, he jumped to his feet again and resumed pacing. "And we've only gotten better since then!"

"Our presence would have only served to distract Harry from his mission," Luna informed him as he past by the couch.

"How? We would've been helping him!"

Luna shook her head and addressed him as if he were a somewhat slow child. "He would have been too busy worrying about our safety to concentrate fully on reaching Hermione."

Ron stopped pacing and turned to yell, "We can take care of ourselves!"

"Harry knows that--"

"Then why can't he trust us enough to let us help?"

"Harry is not very good at accepting help," Luna explained patiently. She graced Ron with a brilliant smile that did nothing to ease his growing temper. "It's not in his nature."

"She has a point, Ron," agreed Ginny.

"Several," Luna confirmed with a nod and another gay smile.

"I know," Ron admitted, puffing out a deep sigh. He seemed to almost deflate as his righteous indignation at being left behind left him. "I just wish there was something I could do to help."

"There is."

This unexpected pronouncement, issued from directly behind him, startled Ron more than he would ever admit. His body reacted before the rest of him and he found himself whirling about, drawing his wand and firing off the first thing that came to mind.

"Reducto!"

It was only thanks to Father's timely intervention that the curse did not blow Harry's head off his shoulders. The dark grey sphere intercepted the glowing burst of magic in a single motion that took it from one side of Harry to the other.

Blinking in surprise, Ron suddenly realized he had almost killed his best friend.

"Shit! I'm sorry!"

"Harry!" exclaimed Ginny and Neville, both jumping to their feet at the sight of Harry standing in front of Ron, Hermione held in his arms.

"That was close," Luna observed, slowly rising from the couch to stand next to Ginny.

"I could use some help," said Harry, shifting his burden.

"Are you all right?" asked Ginny frantically, rushing to him. She stopped just short of him and regarded Hermione. "You got Hermione! Is she all right?"

Hermione turned her head to face them and said, "No, not really."

It was only now that Ron noticed the blood staining Hermione's cream-coloured blouse. It had soaked through the thin material and spread to her hands as she tried to staunch its flow while Harry supported her.

Suffice to say, Ron went from being apologetic to panic-stricken in a very short amount of time.

"HERMIONE!!"

Before he could say much more, the world began to spin and abruptly went black.

-oOo-

Harry looked down at Ron's unconscious body, which was now sprawled on the flat's floor and almost on top of his feet. He repressed a sigh.

"Will somebody wake him up?"

"Do we have to?" asked Luna with a pout. "It will be quieter if we don't."

"Luna," Harry growled impatiently.

"Oh, all right then. If we have to," she replied, stepping up to where Ron was lying. She gave Ron a reasonably firm prod with her left foot while yelling in his ear, "WAKE UP YOU SLOVENLY SLACKER!"

This woke Ron up almost as quickly as he had lost consciousness. He jumped to his feet with a start and loudly protested, "I DIDN'T DO IT!"

"Ron, calm down," Harry told him. "This is not a time for hysterics."

Ron looked about in confusion before settling his focus on Harry. His eyes held Harry's for a moment before dropping to Hermione, still in Harry's arms. He immediately blanched, his freckles standing out in contrast to his pale face, but managed to remain upright and awake.

"Gods, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I've got a great bloody knife stuck in my side," Hermione retorted. "That's what's wrong."

"What happened?" asked Neville, coming up close and making as if to help.

Harry shifted away from his friend's attempt at lending a hand, content to carry Hermione by himself. He did note that, while she was lighter than he had expected, her weight was beginning to wear on his arms. He could have had Father hold her with a field, but preferred to hold her close like this.

Starting towards the bedroom and trying to navigate around his anxious friends in the process, Harry shook his head and said, "We don't have time for an explanation right now. We need to get this dagger out of her."

"Do you need anything? What can we do?" asked Ginny, pacing him.

"A couple of large pots of warm water," suggested Hermione, grimacing as she shifted each time Harry took a step. "You'll need to clean the blood away before you can treat the cut."

"I'll get those," Ginny answered. "I wouldn't trust anyone else in the kitchen."

"I will get some towels from the bathroom," announced Luna.

"What about us?" asked Neville.

Harry paused and motioned for him to follow Luna, saying, "There's a storage cupboard next to the bathroom. It's filled with potions." He say the other boy hesitate and elaborated, "Bring me anything you think will help a knife wound. Don't worry, they're all clearly labelled."

Once Neville nodded in understanding and hurried after Luna, Harry turned back to his destination. He saw that the door was partially open, but not enough for him to squeeze through, so gave it a kick to open if fully.

"Ugh," Hermione grunted in protest. "Careful, Harry."

"Sorry, Nee."

Entering the bedroom, he quickly crossed to the bed. "Ron, pull the sheets back, so I can put her on the bed," he told his red-haired friend, who was hovering anxiously behind him.

Ron nodded and hurriedly did as he was directed, pulling the sheets back. He almost tripped over them while trying to get them out of the way as Harry stepped up to the side of the bed.

"I have the towels," said Luna as she stepped inside the room, bearing the aforementioned towels in her arms as well as several over each shoulder.

"Spread one over the bed," Harry ordered. He waited for Luna to do so and then carefully set Hermione down, taking extra care not to jostle her in the process. "That okay?" he asked once she was settled.

"I'll be okay once you get this thing out of me," Hermione answered through clenched teeth. She was pressing both hands to her wounded side, around the knife still embedded in her.

"That's going to take some time," Harry told her, searching through the pile of towels Luna had deposited at the foot of the bed. He pulled out the smallest one he could find and returned to her side.

"Which is why we should be going to Hogwarts, or even St. Mungos," Hermione told him, carefully lifting her hands away from her injury and accepting the hand towel from him. She gave him a pointed look, one that said they would be speaking about this later, and chided, "Not trying to do this by ourselves."

"Unfortunately," he sighed, "we're going to have to do it ourselves."

"I don't know, Harry," opined Ron, still looking pale as he knelt down on Hermione's other side. "I think we should let someone who knows what they're doing take care of this."

Harry made to answer, but paused as Neville arrived, carrying half a dozen flasks. He carried them over and set them down one by one on the side table next to Harry. "I think these should do," he said nervously.

"Thanks Neville."

Hermione struggled to push herself up to her elbows, wincing in pain as she did so. Discarding the now bloodstained hand towel, she looked at Harry and spoke softly. "Harry, you rescued me single-handedly," she told him, "You've done more than enough... you don't need to do this as well."

Harry matched her gentle gaze and agreed, "Trust me, I'd prefer not to."

"Then take me back to Hogwarts!"

"She's right, Harry," said Neville, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. He shook his head and said, "This is a job for Madam Pomfrey, not us."

"Madam Pomfrey can't treat this," Harry insisted. "Only I can."

"Why is that?" asked Luna.

Harry huffed in annoyance and snapped, "If you will all stop badgering me about taking her back to Hogwarts, I'll explain."

"Not without me, you won't," said Ginny, as she came into the bedroom. She was carrying two large pots filled with steaming water. She held them up for him to see. "Here's the water."

"Thanks, put it there," he accepted, pointing at the side table.

"So, why can't we take Hermione to Hogwarts or St. Mungos?" asked Ginny as she carefully set the pots down next to the potion flasks Neville had brought.

"Ordinarily I would," Harry explained, "but we have a slight problem."

"A slight problem?" repeated Ron incredulously.

"If this is a slight problem," commented Neville, "I don't want to see what he considers a disaster."

Drawing his wand, from where it was strapped to his arm, Harry waved it over the knife's hilt and intoned, "Veneficus manifesto." As he expected, the hilt began to glow a pale, icy blue. He lowered his wand and watched as the soft glow began to fade away.

"What the hell is that?" exclaimed Ron.

"An enchantment of some sort," said Luna, answering before Harry could.

"You mean the knife's cursed?" asked Neville. "Crap!"

"Harry, this clinches it. You have to take Hermione to Hogwarts! Only a few trained professionals are qualified to remove something like this! You aren't!" insisted Ginny.

Harry settled back on his knees and stated, "It has a aura activated proximity trigger."

This was met with some incomprehension, save for Hermione. The bushy haired witched dropped her head back against the pillows and gave a groan that was not caused by the pain of having a cursed knife jammed into her side.

"What?" asked Ron.

"Shit," said Hermione, summing it up.

"What?"

"You understand now?" asked Harry.

Hermione let out a breath and nodded, "Yes."

Growing annoyed at not receiving an answer, Ron bellowed, "What?"

Before Harry could try to explain, Hermione answered, "The only people that can even try to remove this are myself, Harry and the Death Eater who stabbed me with it."

"And since you're the one it's stuck into," Harry concluded, "that leaves me."

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!"

"The enchantment on the knife," Hermione elaborated.

"When the knife is used, the enchantment is activated," explained Harry, reciting the information Father had passed on to him at Parkinson Lodge. "After that, only someone who was standing less than a metre from the dagger at the time can disarm the trigger without setting off the Killing Curse."

"Killing Curse?" repeated Neville, sounding appalled.

"It's stored in a crystal set inside the handle."

"Technically it's a hilt," corrected Luna.

Harry ignored the correction and continued, "If somebody else tries to remove the dagger, the crystal shatters and the curse is released..."

"Right into me," finished Hermione.

"Shit!" swore Ron. He rose up and began to pace around the cramped confines of the bedroom, swearing up a storm that would have made Molly Weasley wash his mouth out with soap. If it was not for the seriousness of the situation, he would have impressed everyone present with his scope and inventiveness.

"So, why can Harry touch it?" asked Ginny, speaking over the litany of Ron's cussing. She glanced from Hermione to Harry and back again. "I doubt he was the one that stabbed you."

"I was hugging him when it happened," Hermione admitted, blushing slightly. Ordinarily she would have turned as red as the Hogwarts' Express engine, but with so much blood seeping from the knife wound, all she could manage was a fetching pink.

"What about the Death Eater?" asked Neville thoughtfully. "Why can't you bring him here and force him to remove it? He must know how, if he used the damn thing."

"He's not available," Harry informed him.

"Why not?"

Harry just looked up at him. He swallowed convulsively as the memory of literally blowing Cowan into a million pieces came back to him. He took some comfort in the fact that even if he had not killed him, the Death Eater would most likely have not lived much longer, having been shot by one of the combat drones.

Puzzling over Harry's stare for several seconds, Neville finally seemed to pick up the meaning behind what Harry had said. He paled slightly and swallowed before squeaking, "Oh."

"That leaves me and Hermione," Harry repeated.

"And she's the one with the dagger in her side," Ginny summed up.

"Which means it's up to Harry," Hermione agreed weakly.

"Are you sure we can't go to Hogwarts?" asked Ron, having finally stopped swearing and returning his attention to the discussion taking place. "Maybe Dumbledore..."

"Proximity triggered daggers have been used by assassins for nearly three thousand years, Ron," Hermione told him. She was looking very pale and sweaty, but was still able to assume her patented lecturing tone. "In all that time... nobody that shouldn't has been able to disarm one."

"Nobody?"

"Nobody."

"Shit."

"But if Harry's the only one who can work on it, can't he just remove the spell that prevents anyone else?" asked Ginny hopefully. "After that, we can turn her over to some who has training for something like this."

Harry shook his head, wishing it were that easy. "The enchantment that records the magic signatures is protected against something like that."

Ginny grimace and cursed, "Damn."

"So," said Neville, kneeling down next to Harry, "Do you know how to disarm one of these things?"

All eyes turned to him, as if expecting a miracle.

It was times like this that Harry wondered at the faith his friends had in his abilities. In a fight he could understand it, since there he would have a chance of coming up with something to save the day. This, however, was a completely different kettle of fish.

"Not a clue," he admitted reluctantly. He could feel the trepidation at what he had to do, but steeled himself and asserted, "Luckily I do have access to someone who does."

"Uh..."

"Father can talk me through the process."

"Are you sure you can trust that thing?" asked Ron. Father huffed indignantly at the doubt in hiss voice and darted out to smack against Ron's forehead. "Ow!" Ron exclaimed, reaching up to clap a hand over the injured area. He glared at Father's charcoal sphere and snapped, "Stop doing that! You're going to leave a mark!"

Harry gentle prodded the knife with his hand, trying to see how it was positioned. Hermione winced and groaned, "A bit more gently, Harry."

"Sorry."

"Just hurry, please," she panted. "I'm not feeling too well."

"Don't worry--"

"You know what you're doing?"

"Well," he bobbed his head vaguely before saying, "Father does."

Hermione looked unhappily at him and said, "Hopefully."

Matching her gaze, Harry could see that her eyes were slightly unfocused with pain. He reached out and took one of her hands in his own and tried to reassure her. "It hasn't steered me wrong yet."

"Then what are you waiting for?" asked Ron impatiently. "Get on with it!"

-oOo-

Harry was kneeling in preparation next to Hermione, who was trying to remain calm about this entire mess. It was not easy, although she thought she was dealing with the situation rather well, all things considered.

"So, what's first?" she asked,hoping that having Harry explain what he was doing as he went along would distract her from the uncomfortable sensation in her side. Oddly enough having a knife buried to the hilt did not hurt as much as she would have imagined it would. Truth be told, it only really hurt when she (and by extension the knife) moved about.

"Well," Harry started, "Father's done a scan of the entry wound--"

"How'd it do that?" interrupted Ron.

Hermione saw Harry close his eyes in frustration and take a breath to keep from snapping at the inquisitive redhead. He then opened his eyes and answered, "I don't really know, but it's like an MRI."

Ron frowned and shook his head. "Em-Ar-Eye?"

"It's a Muggle thing, Ron," Hermione explained, wondering at how witches and wizards could be so completely ignorant about the rest of the world. "Now please; shut up - Harry doesn't need you distracting him."

"And I'm sure Hermione doesn't need you distracting Harry either," seconded Neville, who took hold of Ron's shoulder and pulled him back a little, affording Harry some room to work.

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

"So, again," said Hermione, "what's first?"

"Well, the wound's narrow but deep," he informed her. He glanced at the small grey sphere hovering nearby and seemed to listen before adding, "Fortunately it doesn't seem to have pierced anything vital."

"I'd rather it had not pierced me at all," she muttered ruefully.

Harry smiled faintly and continued relaying what must have been Father's evaluation of her wound. "Most of the bleeding has stopped and won't be a problem until we remove the knife."

Hermione nodded in understanding and then asked, "How do we do that?"

"How do I do that, you mean," Harry corrected. He sat back slightly and noted, "All you get to do is lay there, looking like death warmed over."

"Gee," she wondered if she really looked that bad. "Thanks for the compliment, Harry."

"My pleasure."

Taking aim at the base of the knife's hilt, Harry licked his lips nervously and frowned in concentration. "First, I need to disenchant the hilt's Repellent Ward."

Hoping to keep Harry from growing too nervous, Hermione asked, "A Repellent Ward?"

"Gives anyone that touches it a bit of a shock," he explained, making a few preliminary sweeps of his wand around the hilt. A few glowing lines, intricately entwined, lit up and then slowly faded from view. "Even those who can touch it without setting off the curse inside."

"How much of a shock?"

"It could kill someone with a weak heart."

"Oh, joy," she grumbled. "This just gets better and better."

Harry gave her a wan smile before returning his attention to the task at hand. Focusing fully on the dagger's hilt, he started muttering under his breath. Unable to hear what he was saying, Hermione glanced at her friends, who were watching intently.

Neville was shaking his head and murmured, "Just when I thought things couldn't get worse."

"That's something you need to remember, Neville," Luna cheerfully reminded him. "Things can always get worse."

"I don't think we needed to hear that, Luna," grumbled Ginny, gently elbowing the other girl in the ribs.

Turning her attention back to Harry, Hermione saw that a thin tendril of white light was now being emitted from the tip of his wand. It snaking towards the hilt and she watched closely, having never seen anything like this before.

Glancing up at Harry's face, she wondered where he had learnt to do this. Working with enchantments was difficult and only taught to students at Hogwarts towards the end of their sixth-year.

A soft crackling drew her gaze back to the knife in her side, which the tendril was dancing around, jumping from spot to spot. The crackling grew louder and the tendril's motions almost frantic, before it suddenly coiled around the hilt, like a snake making itself at home.

"There," breathed Harry, a fine sheen of sweat having formed on his forehead.

"You've done it?" she asked.

"No," Harry shook his head, "but I've connected to the enchantment."

Leaning closer, he resumed his muttered chanting, the words again too soft for Hermione to hear clearly. From what she could make out, Harry seemed to be attempting to absorb the enchantment, which she knew was one of the simplest ways of dispersing this particular brand of magic. It was also potentially the most dangerous, as the absorbed magic could easily react badly with his own magic, or (if it was strong enough) overload it.

Fortunately, everything seemed to go smoothly. The white tendril connecting Harry's wand to the hilt began to glow more and more brightly, pulsing in time to his words. Slowly, over what seemed like a very long length of time, the white colour began to darken to a deep purple, tinged with flecks of red.

With an abrupt crack, like lightning, which startled everyone, the tendril released the hilt and retracted back into Harry's wand.

Harry's shoulder slumped with relief. He settled back on his heels and announced, "Done."

Licking her lips, Hermione asked, "What now?"

"I get rid of this," Harry told her, indicating his wand's glowing purple tip, "and move onto the next part."

"How're you going to get rid of something like that?" asked Neville.

Harry did not answer, but pointed his wand out the open window, which was letting a slightly cool breeze into the room. There was another crack, much like the first, and the purple glow leapt through the window and outside.

"Harry, what are you doing?" demanded Ginny.

"Getting rid of it."

"By tossing it out the window?" she asked incredulously. "Are you nuts?"

"Better I release it outside than in here!" countered Harry shortly.

"You could've killed some poor Muggle that's walking past!"

"We're on the fifth floor," he informed her, "somehow I don't think that will be likely to happen."

This stalled Ginny's argument rather neatly and all she could say was, "Oh."

"Now, if you don't mind?" Harry asked sarcastically, waving her back. He waited for Ginny to rejoin Luna, Neville and Ron at their spot by the foot of the bed, and then turned back to Hermione.

"Are you sure Dumbledore couldn't do this?" Ron asked. "It doesn't seem that tricky."

"It's not the difficulty of the process that's the problem, Ron," Luna explained.

"I don't think trying to disenchant something is easy," commented Neville.

"It's not."

Harry ignored the short byplay, focused entirely on the knife. Hermione had to admit it was reassuring to see that nothing short of Voldemort himself appearing would distract him from the job. "Okay," he said, taking a steadying breath, "next step."

"And that is?" she asked.

Harry did not answer. At first she had thought he had not heard her, but then realised that he had his head tilted to one side as he apparently listened to Father explain what he had to do. "The end of the hilt unscrews, that's how you insert a new spell crystal," he finally said. "I need to disarm two separate triggers and one booby-trap linked to that."

"Another trap?" asked Ron.

"Of course there's another, you twit!" Ginny reprimanded him, smacking his arm as she did so. "If it was easy to disarm, then it wouldn't be that dangerous, would it?"

"The first trigger is set off when you start unscrewing the cap," Harry continued, taking aim with his wand and casting one of several Magic Identifying Charms they had been taught in their third-year. A thin red glow began to form, outlining the edge of the cap.

"The second, when you pull the cap off," he went on. The glow grew thicker as he said this, which Hermione knew to be a sign that the second trigger had been identified.

Harry shifted his wand this way and that for a bit, trying to get a feel for the magic he was attempting to disassociate. Finally he nodded, apparently satisfied, and announced, "Defaeco laqueus inceptor."

The glow around the cap grew brighter for a second, alarming Hermione, before beginning to change from red to a weak orange. It pulsed a few times, fighting against Harry's magic, before fading to yellow and then finally white. After one final pulse of protest, the glow faded away entirely.

"Well, that looked easy," commented Ron lightly. "You're doing great, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry agreed distractedly, clearly not listening fully. He licked his lips and began to repeat the process. "Now for the booby-trap."

Seeing that he was straining to do this properly, Hermione tried to take his mind (as well as her own) off it. Fishing for something to do that, she asked, "What does that do? The booby-trap, I mean."

"Like the second trigger, it goes off when the cap is removed,"

"Another shock?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "this time it's more like a bomb."

"A bomb?" Hermione repeated weakly.

"Blow my hand off."

This time the process went faster than when disarming the triggers, though the trap's magic was more stubborn in its fight with Harry. Wiping away the sheen of sweat that had accumulated on his face, Harry carefully reached out for the knife. Everyone watched with bated breath, which was released in a sigh of relief as his fingers tentatively brushed against the hilt.

Still moving cautiously, Harry reached for the cap and began to unscrew it. The movement caused the blade to shift and dig into her, causing Hermione to bite her lip in prevent a gasp of pain. She noticed, absently, that some fresh blood was welling up from the wound.

With the cap finally unscrewed, Harry gently lifted it up, holding his breath the whole way. He only resumed breathing after it was fully removed. Letting out a shuddering sigh, he set it aside and turned back to Hermione. He immediately noticed the fresh blood and pointed it out.

"You're bleeding again."

"It's not that bad," she replied through clenched teeth.

"Can't we put some sort of Pain Relief Spell on the wound?" asked Ginny anxiously.

Harry shook his head dispiritedly. "Anything like that will react with the spells on the dagger and set it off."

"What about a potion?" suggested Neville.

"Same thing."

"But why?" asked Ron, apparently unwilling to let it go at that. "A potion's not a spell. How could it react with the dagger's magic?"

"The magic in the potion will spread throughout Hermione's body," Harry explained tiredly. "Especially around the wound."

"Where the dagger's blade is," concluded Luna.

"Exactly."

Hermione licked her lips, tasting blood from where she had bitten her earlier. "If my mum can give birth to me without painkillers," she announced, "then I sure as dickens can put up with this."

Harry looked at her, wide-eyed and not a little incredulously. "Right."

Trying to take her mind off the pain, Hermione tried to prompt him on by asked, "What next?"

"I think there's some aspirin in one of the kitchen cupboards," he replied, not letting his attention be averted. "We could give you those - they're not magical."

"Aspen? What's that?" asked Ron.

Hermione ignored Ron's question and shook her head. "I don't think they would work fast enough to make a difference at this point." She indicated the hilt sticking out of her side. "Besides, I need to be clear headed for this."

Harry seemed unconvinced, but accepted her reasoning. "Right."

"Now what?" she asked.

"There's a seal placed over the spell crystal," Harry said, leaning forward so that he could peer into the hilt. "Like the hilt cap, it has a pair of triggers and another booby-trap."

"Paranoid, these assassins, aren't they?" Luna asked brightly.

"Crazy is what they are," muttered Ginny in return.

Peering into the small hole now visible at the end of the hilt, Harry nodded. "There it is." He lifted up his wand and carefully took aim. "Let's do this."

Hermione tried to bolster his confidence by noting, "You should find it easier this time. After all, you've done the same on the hilt cap."

"Right," he acknowledged unenthusiastically.

She watched attentively as Harry began to work. From her position she could not see into the hilt, and thus had no idea how things were progressing, so she had to make do with watching Harry's face. He was visibly straining now, working magic that was delicate in the extreme. His face was pale, the only real colour visibly being his eyes and a few red splotches around his cheeks.

"Defaeco laqueus inceptor," Harry concluded, slumping back and letting out a breath. He remained that way for a minute, breathing deeply to catch his breath, before announcing, "Done."

"Is that all?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Thank God."

Ron let out a joyous whoop, startling them both, and pumped a fist into the air. "Yes!"

Ginny grabbed her brother by the elbow and snapped, "Ron! Not now!"

Grinning sheepishly, Ron lifted his hands up in appeasement and apologised. "Sorry."

"All that's left is removing the spell crystal, right?" asked Hermione, licking her lips and eyeing the hilt.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, using his wand to extract the seal. It looked rather like a washer that a Muggle plumber might use. He set it on the side table, next to the hilt's cap.

"It's not booby-trapped as well, is it?" inquired Neville.

"It shouldn't be."

"It shouldn't be?" repeated Ron, his good cheer vanishing.

"Maybe you better check first," insisted Ginny.

Hermione nodded in enthusiastic agreement and said, "Just what I was thinking."

Harry smiled at her. "Relax," he reassured, "I was going to do that anyway."

"Better safe than sorry," agreed Luna. "That's the way to handle these things."

Harry cast several different Revealing and Identifying Charms, breathing a sigh of relief with nothing happened.

"Clear."

"Good," Hermione confessed, "Because I don't want to drag this out for very much longer."

"Right," said Harry. He readied his wand and then looked at her. "If the crystal bumps the inside of the hilt when I pull it out, it'll release the spell. So take a deep breath and try not to move so much as a muscle."

Hermione nodded in understanding and took a large gulp of air. Harry inspected the hilt and frowned in concentration. He took aim with his wand and paused. He did nothing for a moment, then licked his lips. He reached up with his free hand and wiped at the sweat dotting his face.

"How much longer is this going to take," asked Ron impatiently.

"Accio Spell Crystal."

Everyone's breath caught in their throats as a glowing pale green crystal, about the size and length of Hermione's pinkie, slipped out of the hilt and into the air in front of Harry's wand.

"Not long," Harry concluded.

"Shit, Harry," said Hermione, letting her breath out explosively. "You just scared a dozen years off my life."

"Me too!"

"Me three!"

"Luna!"

Harry smirked and then looked at the spell crystal hovering in front of him. He contemplated it for several seconds before deciding, "I don't think I should throw this out the window."

"Good idea." Ginny nodded in agreement, clearly remembering how he had disposed of the first enchantment.

"What are you going to do with it?" asked Neville.

"Father."

The crystal remained in the air for a second before shimmering from view.

It was Ron who asked the inevitable, "Where'd it go?"

"It's still there," Harry told him. "Just shifted ninety degrees out of phase,"

"Which means what?" Ron asked. "In English this time, if you don't mind."

"Father put it into a pocket universe."

"Gods, you're getting worse than Hermione," Ron groaned, dropping his head into his hands. He was clearly joking though, as the broad grin on his face indicated.

"Ron!" chided Ginny, elbowing him in the ribs for the umpteenth time that morning.

"It's true!"

Before the argument could get going, Hermione interrupted. There were more important concerns for them to deal with after all. "Bugger whether or not Harry sounds like me," she said, drawing their attention away from each other and to her. She waved a hand at the empty hilt. "Will someone just get rid of this bloody knife?!"

"Okay," said Harry. He reached out and grabbed the knife, taking a firm but gentle hold on it. He looked her in the eyes and warned, "This is going to hurt."

"It all ready hurts!" she protested impatiently. "Just get it out of me!"

With a sharp yank, and absolutely no warning, Harry pulled the knife out. It slipped free with a wet slurp, causing Hermione to jerk upright and gasp sharply from the sudden pain. As she fell back onto the pillows, her vision was swimming with tears and little black dots around the edges.

"Luna, pass me a towel," she heard Harry ask.

For a moment Hermione wondered what he would need a towel for, but then a trickling sensation impinged on her fading consciousness. She could feel the blood gushing out from the wound, soaking her blouse and the bedspread beneath.

"Neville, the potions. Now!"

As consciousness began to leave her, Hermione was vaguely aware of having something incredibly foul tasting poured down her throat. She almost choked on it, but managed to force herself to swallow.

The last coherent thought she managed before the blackness enveloped her, was that after all her insistence that they remove the knife, right now she would much rather have it still in place. At least then it had not hurt as much.

TBC...

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