As Uncle Vernon hustled the shrieking Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the house behind him, Harry raced himself for an onslaught of curses. If the wards didn’t hold, he knew he wouldn’t last long alone against this many Death Eaters.

“Impedimenta!” His own jinx flew across the garden and into the street, knocking down one Death Eater. “Stupefy!” Another one dropped.

“Uncle Vernon! Professor Lupin’s on the telephone! Tell him what’s happening! He’ll bring help!” Harry shouted over his shoulder, hoping Remus hadn’t hung up—and that Uncle Vernon wouldn’t be too panicked or stubborn to ask for wizards’ aid.

The door slammed shut behind Harry, and he yelled, “Expelliarmus!” The Death Eaters ducked. “Stupefy!”

Another dropped, but the rest kept coming, and now Harry could hear more cracks down the street and see more dark robes charging him, bellowing spells to bring down whatever was protecting the house. I’m about to die…

With a collective yell, the Death Eaters reached the edge of the Dursleys’ garden, but then seemed to stop, as Harry heard a noise like a stretching piece of rubber. He heard them grunting and straining, and then there was a brilliant flash of light, and black robed figures were flung out onto the street and into other gardens. Harry gasped with relief. They couldn’t get to him. The wards had held.

All at once, there was another CRACK, and a wizard appeared inside the wards. Harry let out a yell of alarm and heard Aunt Petunia scream from the window. “Close it!” he shouted, raising his wand. “Stupef—”

“No! Harry!” It was a familiar voice.

Harry froze, his heart in his throat. “Remus?” he gasped as the other wizard’s face finally registered.

Remus Lupin leapt up the steps, ignoring the removal spells and jinxes still being thrown harmlessly against the invisible shield around Number Four, Privet Drive. “Harry, thank heavens you’re all safe.” He yanked a box out of his robe. “Floo powder. The Aurors have sealed off the network so only residents of this house can get through. If the protections fail, get your relatives to Dumbledore’s office. You’ll be safe at Hogwarts if the wards go down. Help is on the way.”

In the street, there were more cracks, and the Death Eaters were forced to turn their attentions from Harry’s house to the brightly-robed Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix now racing to meet them. Within seconds, Privet Drive was filled with screams and shouts, fighting robed wizards, and streaks of colored light.

Behind Harry, the door opened, and Uncle Vernon stepped out, staring from Harry to Remus to the chaos on his street. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were wide-eyed in the doorway. Uncle Vernon looked at Harry again. “You…you…”

Harry’s heart sank, and he dropped his head. Then Remus put a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. “I’m very glad to see your family is unhurt, Mr. Dursley. As long as you stay on your property, we believe you’ll be safe from that.” He jerked his head at the fighting wizards jumping through hedges and setting cars on fire with their hexes. “I’m very sorry about…all this. We had hoped it would never go this far, and I can assure you Harry didn’t want it either.”

Daring a glance at his uncle’s face, Harry was startled to see a flicker of what might have been sympathy. “This lot’s all after you then?” Harry nodded. “What for?”

“It’s a rather long story,” said Remus, with his hand still on Harry’s shoulder.

Behind them, two other Aurors burst onto the garden. “Lupin! Cut the pleasantries; we need you! Potter, get your people inside!” bellowed Mad-Eye Moody, turning around and shooting hexes from within the safety of the wards.

“Right you are, Moody! Go, Harry. Mr. Dursley, keep your family inside, I must…deal with this.” Giving Harry’s shoulder a little squeeze, Lupin turned and headed for the edge of the garden where the other Aurors were following Moody’s example and taking shelter behind the shield.

“Remus!” Harry suddenly called. The last living Marauder paused and looked back. Harry gulped and said in a weak voice, “Be careful.” Remus smiled and gave Harry a thumbs-up before jogging to join Tonks on the driveway.

“Come on, get in,” said Uncle Vernon from the doorway. Harry knew bitterly that he would be more of a hindrance than a help if he joined the fight; the Aurors were too set on protecting him. Turning slowly, he walked into his mother’s sister’s house and shut the door behind him.

“What’s happening?” Aunt Petunia demanded as Harry went quietly to the living room window. “What are all of…those people doing out there?”

“Voldemort sent them,” Harry replied, rolling his wand in his fingertips. Even if he couldn’t do anything, he felt better with it in his hand. “The ones in red are Aurors. They’re here to stop him.”

“Why does this Lord Voldymore want you?” Dudley asked, coming to peer out the window next to Harry.

Aunt Petunia gave Harry a meaningful look, while saying to Dudley, “It’s a long story, dear.” As she clutched Uncle Vernon’s hand, Harry wondered just how much she had known about the first war before Dumbledore had sent Harry to her. He thought of the Howler the previous summer, and wondered how much she might really know about the second one.

Turning back to the window, he saw that most of the Aurors were behind the shield now, and Tonks and Remus were dragging one limp form behind the others. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt. They huddled over the man for a moment, then slowly rose, their solemn faces confirming Harry’s fear, and he groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“What is it?” asked Aunt Petunia, hurrying to Dudley’s side to look.

“That man,” said Dudley, pointing at Kingsley. “Is he dead?”

“Yes,” said Harry numbly. Aunt Petunia gasped, clutching Dudley again.

Uncle Vernon joined them. “How much longer is this going to go on?” he asked dully over the muffled racket from outside.

“I don’t know,” Harry murmured. Kingsley…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! It’s not fair! How many more good people would die trying to protect him?

“What happens if those men in black get into the garden?” Aunt Petunia demanded, her voice shrill with fear.

Harry turned to the Dursleys and held up the box Remus had given him. “Floo powder. Remember how the Weasleys came through the fireplace two years ago? If anything happens, that’s how we’ll get out.”

“And where does the…fireplace take us?” Dudley asked, eyeing it doubtfully.

“Hogwarts,” said Harry. “My school. It’s the safest place in the wizarding world.”

“What?!” Uncle Vernon bellowed. “They’re sending us to hide out with that place with your lot?”

“Would you rather try your luck with that lot?” Harry shot back, jumping up and gesturing at the battle raging outside. Uncle Vernon gulped, and Aunt Petunia looked ready to cry. Harry took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “Remus was right; I never wanted any of this. You have no idea what these past few years have been like! I want it all to go away too, but it won’t, and you lot can’t stick your heads in the sand any longer.”

“But we’ve got nothing to do with any of this!” Uncle Vernon cried, grabbing the sides of his head.

There was a burst of mirthless, bitter laughter that Harry suddenly realized was coming from himself. It was a strange sound in his own ears. “Believe me,” he said, turning away from the startled Dursleys to watch the battle again. “They don’t care. Not one bit.”

“If…” Aunt Petunia gulped. “If they get through…and come after you…what will happen to us?”

Harry kept his eyes on the battle for a few moments. The Aurors were now all behind the barrier and hexing the Death Eaters at will, as Voldemort’s followers renewed their efforts to shatter the wards. Dumbledore had said nothing could harm Harry while sheltered by his mother’s blood, but…he turned and looked at the Dursleys. Swallowing hard, he told them quietly, “The year before last, when I saw Voldemort come back, there was another student with me. Cedric,” he added, glaring at Dudley. “He shouldn’t have been there; it was an accident. When Voldemort saw Cedric he ordered his servant to ‘kill the spare.’ And he did,” he went on, biting off the words furiously. “Cedric had even less to do with it than you do. He just happened to be there. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“So,” said Uncle Vernon, “as far as Lord Voldything’s concerned, we’re…”

“Spares,” Harry finished bitterly. There was no point in trying to hide it. Dumbledore had tried to do that for Harry, keep the scary parts of the truth secret, and look what had happened.

“Mum…” said Dudley. “I’m hungry.”

If Harry hadn’t been so tense, he might have laughed. Aunt Petunia replied, “Well, we don’t know how long we’ll be trapped in here. Go on to the kitchen. Vernon, why don’t you go too. I’ll stay here.”

As Harry’s uncle and cousin shuffled off, Aunt Petunia came over to stand next to Harry at the window. Privet Drive was in ruins. There was smoke and fire and debris everywhere; Harry could see several houses burning, but couldn’t guess whether the occupants had escaped. They would not have known what was happening. A shudder escaped him. Aunt Petunia asked, “Why did Lord Voldemort kill my sister? Was she a ‘spare’ too?”

Harry’s throat felt painfully tight. He nodded. “He was after me. She wouldn’t step aside, so he…”

Aunt Petunia made an odd noise. He kept his eyes on the battle. After a moment, she asked again, “Why? Why is he so set on you?”

Harry closed his eyes and let his head rest against the window glass. It felt nice and cool against his burning, itching scar. “Because of…information. I’m the only one who can stop him.”

There was a hiss as Aunt Petunia sucked in her breath between her teeth. “Stop him? You mean…”

“Yes,” Harry said, keeping his eyes closed. He did not elaborate. Aunt Petunia’s silence told him he did not need to.

All at once, the window glass against his forehead got warm, his scar flared painfully, and the Aurors’ shouts outside took on frenzied tones. Harry jerked his head up and felt his heart freeze: a larger, dark-robed figure was moving slowly through the ruined street. As he wove through the greatly-diminished troop of Death Eaters, Harry could see the glowing red eyes, focused directly on him. “Oh no—”

Aunt Petunia yelped as he jumped to his feet. “Who—what’s that?!” she shrieked.

“Voldemort. It’s him,” Harry said, hearing his own voice shake. Remus and Tonks and Moody and the Aurors—Voldemort would kill them all to get to Harry... Dumbledore! Where’s Dumbledore?!

“Dudley! Vernon!” Aunt Petunia cried, and they came barreling back into the living room.

“What’s that?!” Dudley whimpered, rushing to his mother as he spotted the red-eyed creature coming closer and closer to Number Four, Privet Drive.

“It’s Voldemort,” Harry said, clutching his wand. He felt pulled in three directions: part of him wanted to Floo away with the Dursleys to Hogwarts, part of him wanted race out the door and join the battle, and part of him wished, pleaded with himself to wake up! Let it all be a dream. But it wasn’t; his racing heart and throbbing scar told him that. The Dursleys were all clinging to each other in terror, and Harry wished he had someone to hold onto just then. He remembered the way it had felt being held by Mrs. Weasley, his godfather’s brief, one-armed hugs, Hermione’s wild embraces whenever something happened that really excited her, Oliver Wood and the team after they won the Quidditch Cup—he’d take any one of them. Just a friendly pair of arms right at this second to wrap around him and tell him everything would be all right, even if that wasn’t true…Sirius! Sirius, why did you have to die! I need you!

“That’s what’s after you?!” cried Uncle Vernon. “That…monster?!”

“That’s Lord Voldemort,” Harry confirmed, as the Aurors began to back up. Remus spun around, saw Harry at the window, and began to shout frantically. His voice was lost in the crashes and screams, but Harry knew what he wanted. “I think it’s time to go.” He headed for the fireplace.

“But you said they couldn’t come in here!” exclaimed Dudley, trailing after him.

“No sense taking chances,” Harry muttered. “Reducto!” The fireplace blasted open.

Suddenly, yellow light flashed through the whole house, and there was a sound like an explosion. Harry felt a ripple of energy, like an electric shock through his skin. “Harry!” Aunt Petunia screamed.

He pushed past Dudley and hurtled back to the window. What he saw made him gasp, “No!”

Aurors had been flung like rag dolls in every direction. From the looks of them, so had the Death Eaters. The Dursleys’ garden was smoldering, and their car was on fire. It seemed the only thing still standing was Voldemort, right at the edge of the street. As Harry and the Dursleys watched, the dark wizard stepped up over the curb…and into the yard.

“How’d he do that?!” Aunt Petunia shrieked as Voldemort moved slowly, almost lazily, across the scorched grass.

“Blood,” Harry whispered. At their confused noises, he turned to Aunt Petunia and blurted, “He’s got my blood!” She covered her mouth, understanding what he meant.

Uncle Vernon didn’t. “What do you—”

“GO!” Harry yelled, shoving them toward the fireplace. “We have to go!”

He opened the box of powder and faltered; the fireplace was not big enough for all four of them. Again, Aunt Petunia caught on. “Dudley, you go first! Quick now! Harry, get him out of here!”

“I’m not like him!” Dudley protested. “I don’t know how to travel in a fireplace!”

Harry didn’t think a Muggle could operate the Floo network, so that left only one choice. “I’ll be right back,” he told his aunt and uncle, and dragged his terrified cousin into the fireplace. “Just hold still! He threw down a handful of Floo powder and covered Dudley’s mouth to keep him from screaming. “Professor Dumbledore’s office!” They spun away.

---

Harry and Dudley tumbled out of the fire into the familiar Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, startling several portraits. Dudley yelped, and Harry shoved him out. “Stay here and don’t touch anything! I’ll be back! Number Four, Privet Drive!”

---

He stumbled back into the living room to have a screaming Aunt Petunia thrust into his arms by Uncle Vernon. “Take your aunt! Go!”

“No! Vernon, no!” Aunt Petunia shrieked.

“Come on!” Harry yelled, yanking her back. Through the window, he could see Voldemort had reached the door. Throwing down another handful of powder, he shouted for Dumbledore’s office, but the green flames didn’t spin them away before he saw Uncle Vernon standing, frozen with fear, as the front door exploded in.

---

They fell back into Dumbledore’s office, and Aunt Petunia ran to Dudley, sobbing, “Get Vernon! Get Vernon!”

“I’ll get him! Hold on! Four, Privet Drive!” Harry cried, and the flames carried him back.

---

He landed in destruction. There was no light except for the flames outside, there was dust and smoke everywhere, and furniture was toppled. Harry coughed and shouted, “Uncle Vernon! UNCLE VERNON!”

Silence except for the crackle of flames and shouts outside. Harry saw light flickering from more than the windows: the Dursleys’ house was on fire. “UNCLE VERNON!”

He stumbled over rubble, coughing in the smoke, until he saw a heavyset figure lying in the kitchen doorway, covered with dust. “Uncle Vernon!” Harry rushed over and fell to his uncle’s side, shaking him. “Get up! We have to go, come on! Aunt Petunia’s waiting!”

Vernon Dursley did not answer. He lay still, staring at the ceiling with an expression of utter terror upon his face. Harry shook him weakly as a very cold, heavy feeling began to rise up from his stomach into his chest, up into his throat. “Uncle Vernon?” he whispered, fumbling for a pulse.

Nothing. Nothing at all. And the wrist in Harry’s hand was growing cold.

Another spare.

“No…oh no. Uncle Vernon? Uncle Vernon…you can’t…what’ll I tell them…no…” Harry’s breath was coming faster and faster; what was he going to do? Uncle Vernon’s wife and son were at Hogwarts, waiting for Harry to bring him to safety—he was just a Muggle, he had nothing to do with this! He couldn’t protect his family from someone like Voldemort, Harry needed to… “I’m sorry!” he wailed as cold despair erupted inside him. Uncle Vernon had never hugged Harry or been friendly to him in his life, but now Harry sank down and buried his face in his uncle’s chest, rocking back and forth. “I’m sorry! I tried! I’m so sorry!”

He couldn’t think. All he was aware of was the body of his uncle next to him, and the bitter guilt that yet another person was dead for coming between Harry and Lord Voldemort.

“Poor boy…” came a snake-like hiss from behind him.

Harry shot to his feet, bringing his wand to bear. “Voldemort, you bastard! He had nothing to do with this! Why kill him?!”

A horrible, cackling laugh rose above the voices without, and the flames within. “You ought to know by now, Harry Potter. I enjoy it!”

With an inarticulate howl of rage, Harry aimed his wand straight at Voldemort’s chest. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

The green light flew at Voldemort and sent the dark wizard to his knees. Harry gasped in astonishment. He’d done it. He’d struck the Dark Lord with the Killing Curse. And I meant it…to kill…what am I?

He waited for the hooded figure to finally fall, but it did not. The hood lifted, and red eyes burning dark and furious met his. Harry put a hand to his throbbing scar. “Well done, Harry. For a first attempt, that was most impressive. Most impressive indeed.” Voldemort raised his own wand.

Harry readied his wand. “Maybe it just needs practice,” he said coldly. “But now we’ll just deadlock again if we hex each other at the same time.”

He really should have kept his mouth shut. Voldemort’s thin lips curved into a hideous smile. “Quite right, Harryyyy…” the words trailed off into a long hiss that suddenly changed tone, the pitch going up and down in a strange rhythm.

Harry stared, confused, until a wave of dizziness made his knees weak, and with a surge of panic, he realized what Voldemort was doing. He tried to shout another curse, to raise his wand, but he couldn’t. With a weak gasp, he staggered backward and turned for the ruined front door, fighting his unsteady limbs and the quiet-yet-loud sound of the rhythmic hissing in his ears. He had to get to the Aurors…he could hear a new voice—Dumbledore! Get to Dumbledore!

That hissing was trying to drag his attention away from everything…make him forget what he was doing…ten feet to the door…five…three—he lurched toward the noise outside…two ice cold arms robed in black slipped around his chest, pinning his own arms to his side and pulling him back “N-no…”

Voldemort’s face was right next to his, his breath cold and dry as he kept hissing the eerie incantation or whatever it was into Harry’s ear. It was as though a warm, heavy fog was settling over Harry’s mind, making everything slow down. His body sagged against Voldemort’s iron grasp, his head drooped forward, and his wand slipped through his fingers to fall to the floor. The hissing spell was going to put him right to sleep—it stopped. But Harry’s strength didn’t return; he just hung helpless in Voldemort’s grasp, hearing the crackle of flames in the house growing louder, and the shouts of the battle outside. Dumbledore’s voice rang above the others, shouting a Patronus charm. Dementors must have come.

With another hissing cackle, Voldemort now headed for the door, half-dragging, half-leading Harry along. His legs seemed to be stepping forward of their own accord, though they buckled often. Harry had never felt more helpless—or useless—in his life. Then he was dragged out into the garden to the cries of horror from members of the Order, with Voldemort’s wand pointed at his throat.

“Well, Dumbledore,” hissed Voldemort. “Not quite so powerful now, are we?”

The battle had gone silent. With great effort, Harry managed to lift his head enough to look. The view was bleary, but he could see bodies sprawled on the ground, some in black, some in red, Death Eaters now running to flank Voldemort, and the remaining Aurors watching him with expressions of panic. All except Dumbledore; in his eyes was an emotion that Harry could only identify as grief.

“Come now, Dumbledore. Why don’t you strike?” Voldemort laughed. “My wand is not even aimed at you. You could easily take me before I had a chance to raise my wand after killing the boy.” Dumbledore’s expression did not change, and Voldemort laughed again. “So unable to sacrifice your precious Boy-Who-Lived. You could kill me now, and you know it, but not before I kill him.”

“Harry!” cried a voice, and Harry was dimly aware of a dark figure struggling against two red robes. “Harry!”

“Remus, no!”

“Let go! Harry!” Remus was beyond all sense, fighting with all his strength to come to Harry’s aid. For some reason, Harry thought of that night in the Department of Mysteries.

“Remus, stay where you are,” said Dumbledore, not taking his eyes off Harry. “Very well, Tom, you have my attention. Name your terms.”

Voldemort cackled. “Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me the prophecy.”

Dumbledore shrugged. “As you wish. You may give Harry to me, and I will tell you.”

Voldemort laughed louder. The Aurors winced. “You are an amazement, Dumbledore, even now, you dissemble. With the boy in my power, do you truly think I would release him for anything? Morsmorde!”

Harry was jerked violently as Voldemort suddenly moved. A Death Eater shouted a spell behind them, and Harry could hear the cracks of wizards apparating away. Voldemort’s laughter filled his ears, and the last thing he saw before the world dissolved was Number Four, Privet Drive engulfed in flames, with the Dark Mark glowing green and mocking overhead.