Honeydukes was much quieter than usual, making it easier than usual for Harry to slip out of the cellar, still wearing his Invisibility Cloak, and into the street. Sunlight sparkled over the village rooftops, and the air felt fresher than usual, even through the old cloak. Maybe it was just the delicious sense of being free.

Harry shook off the niggling little shiver of trepidation at what he was doing, any fear that Lupin or McGonagall or Smythe-Wellington might find out about this. If they were worried about his safety from others, fine! He'd stay under the Cloak.

As for Ron and Hermione…would they cover for him? Hermione, well, she was always rather difficult to persuade (unless aggravating Dolores Umbridge was involved), but a year ago, Ron would certainly have aided and abetted Harry with glee. Now, Harry wasn't so sure. But he supposed that was to be expected, what with Ron and Hermione being…Ron and Hermione.

Harry concentrated on dodging the growing throng of people headed toward Zonko's. It must nearly be time for the party to begin. Up ahead, he spotted a familiar red head sticking out of the crowd, and bushy brown hair next to it, billowing in the breeze. Grinning, he hurried up behind them. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Hermione would hiss and scold him vigorously, maybe Ron would let her, but in the end, here he was, and they'd agree he was better off with them than alone.

He'd certainly be happier with them than alone.

Sneaking up toward them, he debated how best to announce his presence to them—without revealing it to the rest of the crowd. They were so deep in conversation it would take more than a poke or a whisper to get their attention.

"Ginny's coming to the party, isn't she?" Hermione was saying.

"Yeah, she's with Luna Lovegood and Mellie Watson," said Ron.

"Watson? Is she related to your Beater?"

"Yeah, Melanie is Vinny Watson's little sister. You've seen her, she was making the signs before the game with Collin and Neville."

"Oh, was she the one who made up that 'Call on Potter' song?"

"No, that was the Creevys. Ginny says Mellie was even close to believing some of that rot about Harry being dangerous, but Ginny convinced her otherwise."

"Was that what Bastet was screeching about in the fifth year girls' dorm the other night?"

Ron laughed. "Yeah. In the end, between the two of them, I think Ginny and Lavinia sorted Mellie out."

Hermione sighed, "One down, a few hundred to go. I wish Harry could be here."

"So you've said about four times," Ron sounded slightly put-out, and Harry winced, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Don't start, Ron," she hissed angrily. "I am not having this conversation with you once a week! Not now!"

"What's 'now?'"

"Now, Ronald, is the war, and perhaps you haven't noticed," Hermione whispered furiously. "Our best friend is right in the center of it! Don't you care enough about him not to be jealous?"

"I'm not jealous!" Ron whispered.

"Then why do you get cross when I worry about Harry?"

"I don't, I just…" Ron sighed. "I'm sorry, it's stupid."

"I like you, Ron," she said very quietly, in a way that made Harry suspect she was smiling.

"But you…"

"What?"

"You…said this summer…a lot…that you loved Harry."

Harry nearly stopped in his tracks. As it was, he slowed down to the point where he had to scramble to catch up in time to hear Hermione sigh heavily. "Can I answer without you stomping off in a snit?"

Ron was silent for a minute, then muttered, "Yeah."

"Yes, I do love Harry. The same way you do, I think."

"Huh!"

She chuckled. "I really don't know how you do it. Six siblings and you still manage to be Harry's best friend. I haven't got any siblings. Just Harry, in my heart. And if we stopped…you know…er…going out…I'd still love you that way."

Ron's ears were glowing red. "Er…thanks."

She laughed sheepishly, "That makes it sound a bit odd, but there it is. Now will you stop being jealous?"

"I'll try." They both laughed. "I wish he was here too. But…I'm glad…er…we got to do this…ourselves."

Hermione giggled. Harry faltered; it was a Cho Chang kind of giggle. And what was he doing listening to this conversation! He hastily started threading his way sideways through the crowd, away from them, as he heard Hermione say, "Me too," but he wasn't away fast enough to miss them grinning like idiots at each other.

Bloody…hell…my best friends are two inches away from public snogging! He made the decision to run ahead to watch the Zonko's party for awhile and then meet up with Ron and Hermione later. Something told him they were going to be late.

It was just ten o'clock when Harry arrived, and a large group of Hogwarts students and Hogsmeade residents were already outside Zonko's, where the doors were open wide, big tables set up outside, and a great array of interesting objects already set on the ground waiting to be put to use. At one table were bottles and bottles of butterbeer, still steaming from having just been removed from a kettle of hot water, and baskets of biscuits of all kinds. It took Harry some maneuvering, but he managed to wedge himself into a gap between two of the tables – he really had gotten thinner! – so he'd have a good view of the demonstrations and access to the food without risking bumping into people.

He surreptitiously snatched a bottle of butterbeer and a few biscuits for himself – and couldn't quite resist shaking one up beneath the Cloak and then slipping it back to the front just as Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson were picking some up. Malfoy didn't get it, to his disappointment, but Pansy did. When she opened the bottle, it erupted in a blast of fizz that thoroughly soaked her and did spray Malfoy rather nicely on the left side of his face. Harry nearly sprayed butterbeer on the inside of his Invisibility Cloak from laughing.

Up front, he could see Fred, George, Mr. Zonko, and Lee Jordan preparing their demonstrations. The twins were wearing their dragon skin jackets, carrying themselves with a Percy-like pompousness. Harry shook his head and grinned to himself as the twins came forward to address the crowd. Lee pointed his wand at a small group of dwarves armed with musical instruments, who promptly played a loud da-daaaa to silence the crowd.

"Gather round, ladies and gentlemen, and let the fun begin!" Lee bellowed. "I give you Mr. Zonko!"

Everyone applauded as the joke shop proprietor strode forward. So did Harry, underneath the Invisibility Cloak, even though no one could see him. Mr. Zonko was an older man, with only a little fringe of white hair left on the back of his head, bright eyes, and according to some, the merriest smile in Hogsmeade. "Ello, ello, ello! Welcome! Welcome to Zonko's! This is a great day for me little family shop! My father an' 'is father an' 'is father 'ave been in the laughter business 'ere in 'ogsmeade fer a hundred years, startin' wiv a market stall! And me great granddad wasn' any elder than these young inventors I've entered into partnership wiv! Very glad I am to introduce 'em 'ere today, so's you can see te great stuff they're addin' ter my shop! Give 'em a big welcome, if yer please! 'Ere they are, our brilliant young proprietors o' Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Messrs. Fred and George Weasley!"

Fred and George stepped forward, bowing graciously to the cheering throng. "Thank you, Mr. Zonko!" yelled Fred. "Absolutely corking to have you all here on this lovely morning, hello to our old school chums, hello to the denizens of Hogsmeade, now let's start Wheezing!" Everyone whooped and shouted. "Right, to start us off, we've got a few lovely new gags for those of you still attending Hogwarts – unlike us eighth years – wait a minute." George elbowed him, and they began craning their necks at the crowd. "Oy! If you all don't mind, kindly check out the identity of your neighbor, please. You know, look left, look right, forward, backward, et cetera. Right. Any of you standing next to Mr. Filch?"

Harry laughed along with the crowd, and the twins were answered by a mass of shaking heads. "Sure?" said George. "No sign of Mrs. Norris either? Excellent! Right, now we can get started!" They all laughed harder. "We thought we'd begin by keeping this in the family, so our first demonstrator, if she will be good enough to join us, is none other than our most lovely and talented sister, Miss Ginny Weasley! Get yourself up here!"

From the crowd scampered Ginny, grinning broadly and waving, her long hair swinging behind her in the sunlight. She had changed out of her school robes, Harry was startled to notice, and was now wearing bright, coppery-brown dress robes. As she twirled around to curtsy playfully to the audience, obviously in very high spirits, Harry was even more startled to notice how said very nice robes brightened the rich brown of her eyes.

Fred and George sandwich-hugged her, making a big show of encouraging even more applause from the crowd before they resumed their announcements. "Yes, yes, lovely little thing, isn't she, but sorry, lads, she's not available!"

Ginny stopped flouncing her robes and looked at George in outrage. "Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I AM!"

Fred smoothly clapped a hand over her mouth. "Let me put it like this, lads, anyone of you who decides to treat her as available will have US to deal with!"

"Oh, why you—"

"Back on subject," laughed George, dragging Ginny away from Fred, "we shall now demonstrate a few small, easily-transportable, soon-to-be-contraband items that I think all will agree are soon to be must-have's for any Hogwarts student! And small-scale enough to escape prying eyes!"

While George was speaking, with an arm around Ginny and gesticulating wildly, Harry noticed that Fred had pulled out a small can that looked like it contained a girl's beauty product. He winced to himself, wondering if Ginny would be persuaded to put the stuff on her face or something, but instead, Fred produced a small book and gave it a quick smear of the innocuous-looking white cream, which vanished from sight a moment later.

As the crowd, noticing the behind-the-scenes action, began to titter, Ginny pulled away from George and glanced over her shoulder. "Oy! Ginny! Catch!" Fred tossed the book at her.

For Ginny, instinct kicked in before common sense, and she caught it. Instantly, it was if she had been electrocuted: her hair, which fell past her shoulders, stood out on end from her head, making her look like a bright red porcupine. The audience howled with laughter.

Barely able to stand up straight, Fred hooted, "And there, ladies and gents, you witness so sweet and simple a little Wheeze: Coiffure Cream! Smear it on any object, and the first person who takes that object from you gets a lovely styling job the world will never forget! And so does the next…and the next! Ginny, if you'd be so kind?"

"Right." Apparently, Ginny had been expecting the trick after all. She looked quickly into the crowd. "Mellie! Catch!" She tossed the book at another fifth year Gryffindor, the younger sister of their teammate, Vinny Watson. Melanie caught it and let out a squeal as her two brown braids tied themselves into a highly-complicated knot on top of her head. Laughing, she threw it to Michael Corner: his short, neatly-cut brown hair turned shocking pink, making Harry think of Tonks, and began waving like a field of wheat. Seamus Finnegan got it next: his slightly longer, dark hair turned bright red and incredibly curly, causing shouts of "Little Orphan Seamus" to ring out from Dean and the Creevy brothers.

Harry laughed as he watched and wondered what would happen if he had caught the rigged book. His hair couldn't possibly look more untidy—or then again, knowing the twins, maybe it could!

And the Weasley show went on from there. Ron and Hermione arrived late, as Harry had expected, and Fred and George made a big to-do of unrolling a red carpet for them—which promptly rose five feet into the air when they stepped on it and flew in several circles around the roof of Zonko's. When it landed, Ron was howling with laughter, and Hermione had a death grip around his neck.

They demonstrated what looked like Sugar Quills (courtesy of a collaboration with Honeydukes) that turned the eater's tongue different colors as they sucked them. There were Vanishing Hats, Ton-Tongue Toffees, and Canary Creams, of course, and the Hogwarts students present all lined up for the chance to compete at games in the afternoon, one prize for which was a year's supply of Skiving Snackboxes. There were Deviling Eggs, which caused any person they were broken against to sprout red horns and a forked tail, and Bottomless Book Bags that swallowed anything put in them, be it books, quills, or papers (Hermione was scandalized).

There were also parchments that notes could be written on during class which changed to notes on whatever the teacher was saying if anyone else tried to read them—and that delivered blistering insults to anyone who tried to spell them to reveal what else was written. Of course, Harry thought at once of the Marauder's Map, but then had to deal with an unexpectedly sharp pang at the thought of Remus and what he'd do if he knew Harry had snuck out to Hogsmeade.

Harry watched people lining up to have a go on the flying red carpet, and made a split-second decision. Instead of going to whisper to Ron and Hermione, he crept around to behind one of the piles of Snackboxes and whispered as one of the twins came to pick up a few, "Psst! George! It's Harry!"

To his credit, George reacted quickly, losing the startled look from his face and knocking over a few boxes so he could stack them back up. "Allo, Harry. Glad you could make it."

"Ron and Hermione don't know I'm here."

"No? Decent of you, letting 'em have their little twosome. We've got them a private booth at Madam Puddifoots."

"You're not going with them?"

"No, we'll be here. Want to come in?"

"Yeah, please!"

"Sneak round behind the Wildfire Whizbangs—be careful of the Catherine Wheels, doesn't take much to set them off—through the side door and wait for us on the stairs to the attic. Lunch break's in twenty minutes."

"Thanks!" Harry whispered. George stacked up the last of the boxes neatly, winked in the direction of his voice, and hurried away.

Mindful of the warning about the fireworks, Harry minced delicately behind the huge crates and reached the side entrance just as Fred happened to open it. "It's bloody hot in here! Too many people—did George tell you about the staircase?" he muttered as Harry slipped inside past him.

"I'll be there."

He waited, feeling strangely anxious, watching them demonstrating a great variety of wicked little Wheezes on chairs alone, which they informed the audience would be put to use in the afternoon's round of Musical Chairs. With that, the morning session was concluded, and Harry watched the twins bid cheerful regrets to Ron and Hermione that they couldn't join them for lunch. Ron and Hermione didn't appear too disappointed as they headed off together for Madam Puddifoots. Harry sighed.

Fred and George sent Lee off to be escort for Ginny, Luna, and Melanie and returned to the store as Mr. Zonko closed up for lunch hour. "Draw the curtains, would you?" Fred asked cheerfully.

Chuckling, Mr. Zonko waved his wand at them. "Wot's the top secret item this time?"

George laughed. "Harry Potter."

"Oy?"

"Go on, Harry, it's all right," said Fred.

Feeling slightly irked with them for revealing him without asking first, but supposing he didn't have any right to complain since he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. "Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Mr. Zonko, but he was laughing. "'Arry Potter! 'aven't seen you 'ere in ages! Gotta sneak around in public now?"

"Yes," Harry sighed.

"Cheer up, mate," said Fred. "Come on. We've got lunch in the back."

Mr. Zonko set them up with an array of sandwiches and butterbeer at a small table in the back store room. "Know be'er than to believe that pap in the Prophet, anyone wif sense does," he informed Harry. "Eat 'ardy."

"Thanks!" said George. He grinned fondly at Mr. Zonko. "Great chap, this one. After our own hearts."

"Ere, you two're after mine, seein' as I was inventing me jokes before yer parents were born!" Mr. Zonko informed them. "Mind yeh, does me 'eart good, knowin' you lot's gonna be 'ere after I'm gone. 'Oo else'd carry on the traditions?" To Harry, he said, "Lost me own boy in the first war. I feared there'd be no one to teach me trade. Everyone wif sense knows yer the one that can end the second."

Harry swallowed hard and forced a smile, not certain what to say. But Mr. Zonko just patted his back and headed out to the counter with a handful of store records. The twins smiled after him. "So, our dear benefactor, what's on your mind?" asked George.

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map and stared at it. As much fun as the Wheeze show was, he found that he hadn't been able to shake that awful churning feeling of guilt inside. He'd never felt so weighed down before when sneaking out to Hogsmeade, why was this time so different? "I…I just…I don't think Ron and Hermione'd approve my coming here."

His mouth full of salmon sandwich, Fred wrinkled his nose, but George said, "And you're not sure you approve it yourself, eh?" Harry nodded.

"Ronniekins told us about this and Quidditch. Rotten luck, mate."

Harry sighed heavily. "But you think they're right."

Fred shrugged. "Hard to say, really. The reasons you couldn't come your third year were stupid; everyone knew what sort of lot your relatives were." Harry winced. "Oh, sorry!"

"It's okay." He got up and examined the rows of jokes stacked up on the storeroom shelves. "I know…I know this year the reasons are good, I just…got so raving mad! It's not fair!"

"That's the truth," muttered George. "As Mum so often attests."

"But this isn't to say you can't have fun, mate," said Fred.

"No Hogsmeade, no Quidditch, half the school jumping out of their skin when I walk into a room? How do you suggest I have fun?" Harry demanded, then cringed mentally; it had come out much harsher than he'd meant it.

But neither twin seemed affected. "Well, for one thing, if you're not giving a certain pair of lovebirds absolute HELL every single day, we're going to be very put out with you, mate," said George.

Harry chuckled. "You don't think they're embarrassed enough already?"

Both their jaws dropped in mock-shock. "Not embarrassed enough!" gasped Fred.

"Impossible!"

"Unthinkable!"

"No!"

"Definitely no!"

"Positively no!"

"Absolutely no!"

"Uh-uh."

Harry couldn't help laughing. "All right, I'll redouble my efforts. Sorry, I guess I was a little tentative at first."

"That's our boy!" exclaimed George, slapping the table. "Enlist Ginny, why don't you?"

"Will she approve of teasing Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Haven't you noticed? She's been trying to egg you into it for weeks!" laughed Fred.

Harry helped himself to another sandwich. He hadn't realized he was so hungry. "And at the same time, I should keep my head down and my nose clean."

They pulled identical faces. "I know it's not fun, mate. And I know we're hardly ones to talk," George began, but Harry shook his head.

"No, you are. You've never had Voldemort," (he noticed the twins still jumped at hearing the name), "the Ministry, and half of the wizarding world out to get you. All you had to deal with was Umbridge and Filch, and there's no need to toe the line with them, as you said at the time."

The twins beamed. "That was a rather spectacular finish, wasn't it?" sighed Fred. "Shame we had to come back for N.E.W.T.s. We wouldn't have, but Mum had to go appeal to our family pride."

Harry laughed. "I know, Ron and Ginny told me. But who knows, maybe this exit could be just as fun."

"Well, we'll have to see that it is, eh?" the twins winked simultaneously. Harry felt a sudden shiver inside, remembering George, pallid and motionless with shock, clinging to the dying Fred. Because of me… He suddenly felt nauseated, and both of them noticed. "You all right, mate?" asked George.

"Yeah, I…" Harry sighed. "I'd really like to stay for the games, even if I can't play. But I suppose I…ought to be getting back. Remus'd be really upset with me if he knew I'd snuck out."

Both twins appeared to be restraining themselves from giving Hermione-like nods of agreement. That alone was enough to convince him. "That one's like our mum when it comes to you," Fred chuckled. "He'll probably yell like her too."

That put a bizarre image in his mind of Remus turning red in the face and yelling like Mrs. Weasley, and he laughed. "I don't know about that, but I suppose I don't really need to get on his bad side. He's risked enough for me this week."

The twins stood up in unison. "Right, then. Grab your Cloak, and we'll walk you back to Honeyd—"

It figured. It really did, Harry supposed. It only made sense that just as he was coming to his senses and about to head back, that they'd start to hear muffled screams outside the shop. The three of them sprang to their feet as Mr. Zonko threw the storeroom door open. "Get out 'ere, you lot! Death Eaters!"

Fred and George both swore very loudly and shoved Harry between them toward the door. "They'll know you're here!" Harry cried.

"We know," said Fred grimly. "Come on, Zonko, out of the store! Make for the bookshop!"

As they burst out the front entrance, they were met with chaos. Screaming wizards and witches of all ages were tearing through the streets, and loud crashes could be heard toward the center of the village. Light flashed from curses being thrown. "Go, quick," George ordered Zonko, and he hurried away. "We've got Harry. Come on!"

They started toward the street, but three Death Eaters suddenly came sprinting around a corner, chasing a group of terrified third years from Ravenclaw. "Impedimenta!" Harry roared, aiming for the white masks. The twins followed suit, and the Ravenclaws pounded on the door of the Three Broomsticks, which Madam Rosemerta opened and ushered them inside, her wand drawn and aimed at the street.

The Death Eaters recovered from the curses and spotted the three boys. One of them had her mask askew; Harry felt a surge of blistering hate. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, her eyes wide and enraged. "Potter!" she spat, almost as if surprised to see him there.

Movement to his right caught Harry's eye; George had stepped away from him. The red-haired boy spun around and aimed an open, wandless hand at a crate of Wildfire Whizbangs, his fingers spread in a strange way, his eyes hard and bright in a way that reminded Harry startlingly of Dumbledore. The lid flew off, and the fireworks, already-lit, burst from it, hovering in the air as though waiting for a command. George spun back around, pointing his hand in a sweeping motion back at the Death Eaters, and the entire arsenal of blazing explosives roared through the air straight at them. Harry gasped and ducked as the Death Eaters sprinted for their lives.

"George, how did you—"

"No time. Come on, we've got to get you to Honeydukes," said Fred, grabbing Harry's arm.

"Wait—no!" Harry cried, pulling away. "It's too dangerous, they'll come after me!"

"We can't let you go alone!" exclaimed George.

Glass shattered somewhere down the street, more screams rang out. "Listen, you need to find Ron and Ginny!" Harry insisted. Both twins faltered. "Get to them. I have my Cloak, I'll be fine!"

"Harry…okay. Be careful!" The twins turned and aimed their wands at all the crates of fireworks. The boxes erupted into flames as the entire arsenal ignited and rose into the air. "Capio Death Eaters!" Gone from fun entertainment sources to near-lethal, blazing missiles, the Whizbangs roared off in every direction. "That ought to keep 'em busy. Go!"

"Wait!" George shoved a can into his hand. "Exit Eliminator. Toss this over the tunnel entrance when you've gone through!"

"Thanks!" Harry bolted for Honeydukes, throwing the Cloak over his head as he did.

Miraculously, none of the fireworks got near him, though he had to dodge several Death Eaters who were scrambling to escape ones that had honed in on them. There was a group dangerously close to Honeydukes, but a small flock of sparkling dragons swooped down and sent them scrambling for cover. Harry ducked through the door, feeling a surge of pride in the twins' abilities—which was followed by a surge of dizziness so intense that he fell to his knees in the empty, damaged store.

Oh no…not now, please, not now! Green blazed in front of his eyes, and he found himself wishing he hadn't sent the twins away. The screams, crashes, and roars of people, curses, and fireworks still thundered outside, but inside the empty store, it was quiet, so very quiet.

Harry kept the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he stumbled to his feet and scrambled down the cellar stairs. He had to get into the tunnel and close the entrance before any more Death Eaters came calling! A Catherine Wheel shrieked its way past the shattered windows just as he reached the stairway, and he gasped and lost his balance, tumbling head over heels down to the basement floor.

Fortunately, he didn't suffer any broken bones, but he was bruised and breathless and even more disoriented when he came to a stop. The only thing that could make the situation worse was…the sound of panicked Death Eaters taking refuge in the shop from the fireworks.

"Merlin's beard, what are those things!"

"Dumbledore's got himself new weapons, damn it, someone's going to pay for this!"

"They're from that Weasley shop!"

"Those brats just had to start making themselves useful. Come on, let's get down there before another lot finds us!"

"And Potter's here."

"Potter! He's supposed to be at the school!"

"Well, he's not, Wormtail, I just saw him!"

Wormtail! Harry's heart froze in his chest. Wormtail knew about the tunnel in the cellar. And Bellatrix had said, "let's get down there…" She meant the tunnel. They were trying to get into Hogwarts.

In a panic, he dove away from the stairs, scrabbling across the floor, knocking over boxes and tins in a desperate effort to get to the tunnel. He dropped to the floor at the entrance, cutting his hands on broken glass, but the trapdoor was heavy, and the Death Eaters would be on the stairs in another second.

There was no time. He yanked open the Wheeze can George had given him and upended it over the trapdoor. Then he aimed his wand at where he knew the trapdoor was. "Colloportus! Moenoccludo!"

Between the three of them, the Sealing Spell, simple glamour, and the Weasley twins' handiwork would keep the Death Eaters from finding and getting the trapdoor open, with any luck.

On the other hand, that left Harry trapped in the basement with no way out. He kept the Invisibility Cloak over himself and scuttled for cover as the cellar door opened.

"This place is a mess!" said a vaguely familiar voice. Perhaps Avery.

"Someone's been here. Potter?" Of course, he knew that voice.

"I don't know, Bella, what does it matter!"

"It matters, Lucius, if the boy's not at Hogwarts, then his professors will be coming here that much quicker!" Bellatrix hissed back.

"Damn it! Flitwick's up there!" cried a new voice.

"Nott just saw McGonagall."

"They're looking for Potter! Dolohov, Nott, get down here!"

"Hah! Baby Potter's not back at school yet! Perhaps he's still here!"

At Bellatrix's babyish squeal, Harry gritted his teeth, his heart pounding. Dizziness was coming in waves, making it hard to think. Their voices were all around him, talking about him, his name seemed to echo over and over in his own ears…

"If Potter's here, find him then!" snapped Lucius Malfoy.

"He has his father's Invisibility Cloak," warned Wormtail.

Bugger...they were all standing on the basement stairs, trying to search the room from above. Harry slipped his wand hand out of the cloak as they began hexing objects at random, knocking over barrels and boxes and trying to drive him into the open.

"Oh, Potter, come out, come out!"

"Potter!"

"If Potter—"

"Potter may be—"

"Potter!"

"Any sign of Potter?"

"He's here, I tell you—oh, Potter!"

"Harry!"

At that last hissing whisper, Harry suddenly realized one of the voices calling his name was above his head. He looked up and saw Snape peering down through the broken cellar window, searching for him. Harry had never imagined being so glad to see that man. With a stifled gasp of relief that went unheard in the ruckus of the search, he slipped the Invisibility Cloak just off his head so Snape would see him.

The Potions Master didn't even take the time to sneer, but simply held out a hand. Harry just hoped he'd be able to reach it without getting himself hexed. He scrambled to his feet and made a grab for Snape's hand, but missed and lost his balance.

He hit the pile of sacks he'd been hiding behind with a crash, and the Invisibility Cloak slipped more than half off him. He rolled over and looked back toward the stairs where the Death Eaters were standing.

Bellatrix was wearing a predatory smile. "Hello there, baby Potter! Where have you been?"

"Come ON, damn it!" Snape yelled from above him.

Harry didn't think. He just lurched to his feet, trailing the Cloak in one hand, and aimed his wand at the stairs. The Death Eaters made ready to shield themselves, but it wasn't them Harry was about to curse. "REDUCTO!"

The rickety stairs collapsed on themselves with a crash, and Death Eaters went down with them in a heap of black robes and debris. Harry didn't wait. He whirled around threw himself with all his might at Snape's hand, which was stretched down through the window, straining toward him. Snape's hand closed on Harry's wrist and yanked him up. A few Death Eaters managed to disentangle themselves enough to throw a few curses, but all missed, and then Harry was hauled into Snape's arms and they landed in a heap of arms and legs beside the cellar window.

He lay there, gasping and dizzy and sore, as Snape pulled the Invisibility Cloak out after him. "There's a tunnel to Hogwarts, they're after it," he gasped. The adrenaline of escaping the cellar was wearing off fast.

"I know, I know! Come on!" Snape thrust the Cloak into Harry's arms and pulled him to his feet, hauling him bodily away.

Blinking furiously, Harry looked around. There were Aurors in Hogsmeade now, and teachers, but he didn't see Ron, Hermione, or the twins, who he'd assumed were there when he'd heard someone calling his name. But then he saw them running from behind some rubbish bins toward him. "Harry!" gasped Hermione, throwing her arms around him. "What are you doing here!"

"Where's the twins?" he gasped at Ron before pulling away from Hermione.

"Safe. With Ginny. Are you hurt?"

Hermione was feeling his forehead. "You're warm! Oh, Harry, what were you thinking—"

Shouts rang out, just one street over. Snape grabbed all three of them and shoved them against a wall. "Under the Cloak, all of you!"

Ron and Hermione wedged Harry between them and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over them all. Huddled as they were against an open stretch of wall, no one would think to search for them hiding here.

Harry felt awful, not just physically. What had he been thinking, coming here? Hadn't everyone tried to warn him he would be a target? Had the Death Eaters attacked because Voldemort realized Harry was outside Hogwarts? If people were hurt, would it be because of him?

Of course it will...Remus will KILL me! He wanted to die. As it was, he let his head fall onto Ron's shoulder and bit his lip as hard as he could against the lump of miserable guilt in his throat.

Ron was rubbing his shoulders. "Hang on. It'll be okay. Bloody hell, mate, you're really warm!"

Eventually, the chaos of a running battle faded away, and Snape stalked over to where they were and whipped the Cloak off them. "Injuries?"

"I think Harry's sick, Professor," said Hermione.

"That won't save him the fifty points he just lost Gryffindor. Move. Back to Hogwarts."

Ron and Hermione supported Harry to one of the carriages, and Harry endured possibly the longest, most awful ride of his life, feeling weak, feverish, and sick with anticipation over what he'd be facing when he got back. He never would have imagined dreading a return to Hogwarts this much. When they arrived, he was hauled off to the hospital wing, with Snape coldly watching as he explained to Madam Pomfrey what had happened and left Harry to be examined.

Madam Pomfrey had just given Harry a Fever Reducing Potion and was doing a variety of testing spells on him to try and figure out what the cause of this latest illness was, when Harry heard the doors open and close—quietly. The soft intakes of breath from Ron and Hermione made him cringe and look up, fearing the worst.

He was right. Remus had arrived.

As horrible as he felt, Harry couldn't seem to look away as his reddened eyes met Remus's soft brown ones all the way across the hospital wing. All he could do was watch in despair as his parents and godfather's friend came down the row of beds to where Harry sat with his knees drawn up to his chest. The hospital wing seemed so very, very quiet.

Ron and Hermione were holding their breath as Remus sat down on the foot of the bed, still meeting Harry's gaze with an expression that showed such incredible disappointment that he wanted to die. He sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was very gentle, very quiet.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Harry."

Harry flinched. Hard. He would gladly have taken the worst of Snape's abuse any day. Any time. He would willingly face Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, if Remus would only stop looking at him that way.

Hermione said, very tentatively, "Sir…Professor Snape already took fifty points."

"I know," said Remus softly. "And now I'm taking fifty more." Harry flinched again. Remus still had not broken eye contact. He went on, "Ron, Hermione, I want the truth. Did either of you know he was going to Hogsmeade? Did he meet you there?"

Harry shook his head, but Remus said, "I want it from them. Each of you. Tell me the truth."

Hermione sniffled. "No. No, we didn't know. I'm sorry, we shouldn't have gone, we should have stayed with him at Hogwarts…"

At last, Remus looked away from Harry. He looked up to smile gently at them. "Ron?"

"It's true."

"In that case," Remus told them. "Don't be upset, Hermione. You did nothing wrong." Harry finally turned away, resting his cheek on his knees, and flinched as Remus patted his hand gently. "There's a staff meeting. I have to go." Harry couldn't bring himself to look up as Remus rose and left the hospital wing.

Ron began rubbing his back. "Take it easy, mate. What's done is done. Nobody cares about House points anymore."

Harry sniffled. He couldn't help it. "Doesn't mean I was right."

"At least you know now," Hermione whispered. "And nobody else got badly hurt, and they stopped the Death Eaters at Honeydukes."

"I'm sorry," Harry groaned, burying his face in his knees. "I'm so sorry!" He felt so horrible, both physically and emotionally. He had never felt so bad in his life. Remus, I'm sorry, please don't hate me, I'm sorry… "Remus…"

"He'll be back soon," Hermione said. "He won't hate you, don't worry. Just say you're sorry, and it'll be okay. And don't sneak out anymore."

"I didn't mean…I never wanted…"

"We know, mate," said Ron. "Just let it go."

"People got hurt."

"Nobody seriously. Fred and George gave those Death Eaters a scare, I can tell you. Did you see the fireworks?"

"Mm-mm," he mumbled.

"But they said you—" Ron broke off.

Hermione leaned toward him, taking his shoulders. "Why don't you lie down, Harry. You look really sick."

Clumsily, Harry let them bundle him back under the covers. Why couldn't they understand how he felt? "'s all my fault," he mumbled weakly. "I was just trying to get Sirius."

"Sirius…oh Harry!"

"What's the matter with him?"

"He's really hot. I think he's forgotten where we are."

"Don't touch the brains," Harry tried to warn Ron. "Dangerous. We-we have to find Sirius."

"Shhh, it's okay, Harry. Just relax." A hand touched his forehead, so wonderfully cool. He sighed, closing his eyes. "My God, he's getting hotter. I don't like this."

"Harry? You hear me, mate?"

"Ron," Harry groaned, desperately. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his lips didn't seem to move right as he mumbled out, "Don't die. Couldn' stand it if you died. Got hurt. Over me, all my fault…"

"Hey, easy, mate, easy! I'm right here! I'm not hurt—Hermione, this is really bad!"

"Madam Pomfrey!"

Severus Snape noted with a good measure of smugness that Lupin was very quiet as the teachers made their reports to the headmaster. Of course, what could the werewolf say? Snape had been nothing short of astonished that Lupin had disciplined his precious cub at all, when he'd passed the House hourglasses and realized that Lupin had in fact taken points from Gryffindor.

Fifty, in fact. Severus wouldn't have thought the werewolf had it in him.

Still, it seemed highly unlikely that any real punishment was forthcoming. But perhaps there might still be a detention to be had once Potter recovered from this latest illness. The bloody torch was laying the boy low so often that it was impossible to think of any detention that didn't involve Occlumency training. For all that Potter's antics had forced Severus to deal with in this year alone, he was determined to get that boy scrubbing cauldrons at least once before term was over.

"I should have checked his dormitory," Lupin was saying, his voice heavy with the guilt that the man always wore just like Potter's Invisibility Cloak. It only served to annoy Snape. What if the man's band of friends were all either dead or traitors and the only remaining shadow of them seemed determined to get himself killed? For all Lupin had done to Severus, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it! "I knew he was angry and unreasonable about the ban from Hogsmeade, I was trying not to push, but I should have made sure he was here!"

"Yes, you should have," Snape allowed himself to say, smirking.

Minerva rolled her eyes at him, and Flitwick began speaking, naming the Death Eaters he had seen. "Nott and Dolohov, definitely, and I think Lucius Malfoy."

"Yes, he was there," Severus confirmed. "And Bellatrix Lestrange and Pettigrew."

"Is there any sign that our assorted Death Eaters' children knew of the attack?" mused McGonagall.

"Uncertain," said Snape. "Though Malfoy and Nott did decide to make an excursion to the Shrieking Shack at a strangely convenient time to avoid the excitement."

Flitwick shook his head. "Sooner or later, we're going to have to question them, Albus!"

But of course, he had no more success than Severus had ever had when broaching such a subject; Albus Dumbledore was dead-set against taking any aggressive action against any student, even a Death Eater in training.

The headmaster was about to speak when there was a flash of green Floo fire in the hearth. "Albus!" Pomfrey's face burst into view, wide-eyed. "I need you! It's Harry!"

Merlin's beard, what now?

Of course, Lupin practically dove headfirst into the flames after the Headmaster, and Snape waited until McGonagall had gone before stepping through into the hospital wing himself. He emerged to see Dumbledore walking quickly—and Lupin all-out running—to the bed where Granger and Weasley sat in their usual perches on either side of Potter's bed like his own personal gargoyles. With those particular expressions of panic Snape had seen all too often in the past six years.

Pomfrey and McGonagall ushered Potter's two fans aside, and Lupin lunged at the bed. "Harry! My God…" Severus came past Dumbledore for a look, but the sight of Potter startled even him.

When he'd seen the boy in Hogsmeade, and on the carriage ride back, he'd obviously been developing a fever, but this was a far cry, an almost-inconceivable deterioration of his health. Potter lay limp, eyes closed, pallid-faced, and drenched with sweat, mumbling a delirious monologue that included almost constant repetition of the names "Sirius" and "Remus." And "I'm sorry."

Damn the boy. Damn the dog. Damn the werewolf.

So much for Lupin-the-disciplinarian. The man's face was a mask of calamity as he stroked tendrils of soaked black hair away from Potter's scar, which seemed to glow red against colorless skin. Pomfrey, just behind Severus, was wringing her hands, with a look on her face that alarmed Snape far more than the werewolf's hysteria. "Albus," she whispered, in a tone that made them all look at her. "I can't bring the fever down."

Now Dumbledore was going pale. Severus began cursing furiously in his head, running through every profane word and oath he knew in six different languages. McGonagall sank onto the other side of Potter's bed, raising a trembling hand to her mouth. "Poppy…there must be something…"

Granger and Weasley were clinging to each other. Severus ignored them, too set on the Headmaster to spare concern for the brats. But Albus's words, so quiet, seemed to reach like an ice cold hand into Snape's guts. "How much time does he have, Poppy?"

Tears were brimming in Pomfrey's eyes. "A day," she whispered. "Maybe two."

"Albus?" Now McGonagall's voice was quavering. "It can't be possible."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Given the link of the green flame torch between Lord Voldemort and Harry, it may well be."

"What?" demanded Lupin, wild-eyed. "What do we do? What does this mean?"

Dumbledore slipped past McGonagall to bend over the bedside. Gently, he raised a hand to the boy's cheek. Snape could no longer even feel aggravated with Potter for causing so much trouble. There was no time for that. He was no fool; he knew what Pomfrey and the headmaster's reactions had to mean. Along with the boy's life, the fate of the entire wizarding world hung in the balance.

The headmaster's words confirmed it. "It means, Remus, that we have one day, perhaps two, to find and destroy the green flame torch. Lord Voldemort has used it up until now only to spy on us and weaken Harry, but now he is attacking in earnest. If we cannot sever that connection, Harry will die."

And so will we all. Dumbledore didn't have to say it for Snape to know it. The boy, lying so still and small on that hospital bed, was the key to the whole bloody mess, the embodiment of the Order itself. His life or death would determine theirs, it was simply a fact. Snape had accepted that part months ago.

All the same, no one in the hospital wing seemed able to think clearly about how to prevent the boy from dying, but simply stood around, wringing their hands and weeping over him. Minerva was trying, to no avail, to get Granger and Weasley out of Madam Pomfrey's way, and Lupin was refusing to even look away from the boy. As Minerva finally ushered away the now-completely-hysterical Granger and Weasley, Snape muttered, "I will never understand how that boy manages to inspire such fanaticism."

"Fanaticism?" Minerva glanced at him and sighed heavily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before looking from the boy back to him. "Oh, Severus. You simply cannot understand."

Severus shook off his confusion and went closer to Potter's bedside. "Lupin. A word." Naturally, the werewolf tore his eyes away from Potter and blinked at Snape as if he were mad for interrupting. As if he could somehow save the boy just by staring at him and petting him. "Now," Snape growled, jerking his head.

Thank God it wasn't Black, the stubborn mutt would have refused just for the sake of it. But Lupin did get up slowly and follow Snape out of Dumbledore's earshot. "What is it, Severus?"

"We must act now, Lupin, if you want the boy to live."

The werewolf's eyes widened, growing more alert. "If you have an idea, now's the time."

"There may be a way to find the Fortress of Shadows."

"You are certain the torch is there?"

"Potter's seen it, hasn't he?" Snape scoffed—quietly. "Yes, it's there, and its connection to him provides at least one way in. There may be anoth—"

"Great goblins, what's happened to him?" cried Flitwick.

Lupin spun around, and Snape looked past him toward Potter's bed. The boy's entire body was…fading, for lack of a better description. The way it reportedly had when the Dark Lord had made him appear in the Fortress itself, real enough to remove Granger's amulet. Potter looked like a ghost with color. If he could make the child only half-here, so that healing spells had no effect on him, and potions couldn't be swallowed…

"My God, what if he uses this torch to pull Harry all the way out?" Lupin breathed. He turned back to Severus, that same fierce glint in his eye that had appeared before when Fudge had arrived to take the boy. In a calm voice that rather impressed Severus, he said, "You were about to mention another way into the Fortress?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. I hesitated to do so in that company," he nodded toward the people clustered around the bed, "because the headmaster will not approve."

Yes, Severus knew what that glint in the werewolf's eye meant. If I told you the way to save Potter was to cut off Cornelius Fudge's head or feed yourself to a dementor, you'd do it, wouldn't you?

He got his answer well enough. Lupin glanced over his shoulder to make sure Dumbledore couldn't hear, then turned back to face Snape, straightening in a way that Severus grudgingly respected.

"Whatever it is, count me in."