The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

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Disclaimer:  This story is based on the works by JK Rowling.  No infringement is intended.

A/N:  The events in this story take place directly following Book 4;  there are spoilers through the end of that book.  The author would like to thank Zsenya for her thoughtful comments and SugarQuill for archiving.

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            Harry paced his room anxiously, mind whirling with bad thoughts and terrifying images.  It had been two full days since he had heard from either of his close friends and he was worried that something awful had happened to them.

            Since the very first moment he arrived at Privet Drive this summer, there had been at least one, sometimes two messages for him every day.  It seemed that Ron and Hermione were not going to leave him completely alone with the Dursleys over the summer.  At first, he had griped at their behavior, especially when there was an owl waiting on the branch outside his window by the time he arrived from King’s Cross Station.

            Harry-

                        Hermione and I got home safely from the station.  You?

            Ron.

            “Great,” he said to himself.  “Not only do I have Voldemort watching my every move, now my friends are too!”

            The events of the Triwizard Tournament were weighing heavily on his mind, and he just wanted to be left alone, to grieve, to burn with anger at Voldemort, and to worry.  Harry often let it cross his mind that Ron and Hermione – even Sirius and Dumbledore – would be better off if they didn’t know him, ignoring the pain in his heart that thought cost him.

            But his friends seemed to know what he was thinking, and were determined to cheer him up.  Hermione would summarize things she had read that day, or talk about her upcoming trip to Romania and Bulgaria.  Ron would talk about his new “summer job” working with his father in the Ministry, or about the latest Quidditch match.  It had been nearly a month, and Harry was feeling better.  He had even written them a little bit about the tournament, and how he still felt responsible for Cedric’s death.  They, of course, both responded quickly with their denouncing of that and their support of Harry.  He felt even better, knowing no matter what he did, they would never leave him.

            Now, as day turned into night and the wind howled outside his window, he paced.   Finally, there was a sharp tapping at his window and a large gray owl swooped in.  Harry tore open the letter.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

            Ron Weasley was not looking forward to the summer like most students.  Earlier that year it had been decided that he was to come to work at the Ministry with his father a few days a week.  They needed every good person they could get, he said.  At first, Ron was furious – he could see his youth and halcyon days rushing before his eyes.  Then he got his first paycheck and everything looked much better.

            His job was sort of interesting. Four large basins of water were set into a table, each pool of water enchanted to be a window to the outside world.  Each Scrying Pool, as they were called, would display a place where magic was being used, or was regularly used, or places that had their own natural magic were shown.  Both wizarding and Muggle communities were monitored for any unusual activity.  Ron’s job was to watch as the Scryers skipped from scene to scene, and look for any misuse of magic happening within 500 miles.  So, his wary eyes skipped from pool to pool, watching as the scenes changed, looking for anything out of place.  He found it wasn’t difficult work, and actually rather enjoyed it.  Usually, one of the pools would stop on a Quidditch match, so he wasn’t too bored.

            “Hey, Ron.  Anything going on tonight?”  his father asked from the doorway.  “Are the Chudley Cannons winning?”

            “550 to 310 so far,” Ron grinned, blushing.

            “I have some more work to do, so I’m afraid we’ll have to stay a bit longer.  That was a good catch with Higgenbottom this morning.”  He had been caught selling real magic hats to Muggles, without a license. “I just never knew how many magic top hats one man could produce.”

            “Or how many disappearing rabbits!”  Ron joked back.

            “Percy’s on his way home now, if you want to go with him…” Mr. Weasley started.

            “Nah, that’s okay Dad.  I’ll wait.”  He’d rather catch the Cannons game than listen to Percy prattle on about Penelope or work.

            He kept scanning the four pools, checking the score of the game every few minutes.  He worked out a system – 1, 2, 3, look, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, look!  But a sighting of the snitch by the Cannons’ Seeker pulled him away.  He whooped as the Seeker dove and spun, racing madly for the winged ball, closing his fist around it just a split second before the opposing Seeker did.

            Belatedly, he went back to his job.  He was surprised to see Hermione in what looked like her bedroom, doing something to a floating pillow with her wand.  Ron blushed unconsciously, seeing her in such a private setting.  But she looked so different in her Muggle clothes, and so relaxed, he didn’t want to leave her view.  He knew she had special permission to use magic this summer, but even without it, he would never have turned her or Harry in for it.

            The Scryer shimmered, and changed to another scene.  He was a little sad, but turned to continue his survey of the world.  But his mind was stuck in Hermione’s bedroom, wondering what she was doing, and what she was thinking.  They had taken up quite a correspondence that summer, writing to each other nearly every other day.  They were also conspiring to keep Harry in good spirits, writing him every day, too.  Ron found he missed Hermione just as much – perhaps more – than Harry.

            Shaking his head, he focused his attention to one of the pools.  In it, he could see an abandoned church and graveyard in a rainstorm.  A flash of lightning illuminated the scene for a split second.  Chills went down Ron’s spine.  Could it be?  Did he really see that?  It looked like two men, one short and gaunt, the other swaddled in many cloaks, bent over a cauldron.  He held his breath, praying for the next strike of light, training his eyes on the pool.

            There!  But there was nothing there except for bent and broken gravestones.

            Ron let out a breath, angry with himself for letting his imagination run away with him.  But he gasped again when the next sight came on the Scryer.  The Dark Mark, signal of the Death Eaters, was hanging low and ominous over a Muggle house.  Without thinking, he called out for his father in the next room, voice choking when he saw who came out of the house.

            His father yelled a spell, grabbed Ron, and with a great rush of force, Apparated away.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

            Hermione Granger lay on her bed reading, Crookshanks curled up at her feet, the window open beside her, teasing her hair with a mild summer breeze.  She could hear her parents downstairs in the kitchen, doing dishes and talking quietly, the neighbors calling their children inside, and a dog down the street barking idly. All in all, outside seemed like a perfectly normal summer evening.

            Inside, however, it was anything but.

            Yes, she was laying on her bed reading, which was a usual sight, but it was *what* she was reading that was unusual.

            Right before she left Hogwarts at the end of term, Professor McGonagall had pulled her aside.

            “Due to recent events,” she began, referring to the disastrous Triwizard Tournament, “we thought perhaps we would give you a head start on next year’s Charms lessons.  Don’t be worried if they are difficult and you can’t master them by yourself.  Fifth year Charms are the hardest.  You’ve been given special permission to practice this – in private only – over the summer,” she said sternly, handing over a book and a piece of parchment with her permission from the Ministry written on it.  The professor paused and smiled faintly at Hermione.  “But, I’m sure if anyone can learn these on her own, it’s you, Miss Granger.  Have a good, safe, summer holiday.”

            It turned out that fifth year Charms was all about combining spells to make them more powerful.  That way, you could do two things at once, or one thing with several parts.  Currently, she was still on the most simple spell combination – making a pillow levitate and spin at the same time.  It had taken her a full day just to do that, and she was annoyed with herself despite Professor McGonangall’s words.

            She let the pillow drop, and flipped through the later lessons.  It seemed that in the fifth year, things not only got harder, but classes intermingled.  There were Charms that were for Transfiguration and for Defense against Dark Arts.  She would be able to Stupefy someone and turn them into a rabbit by the end of next year.

            She turned to the beginning of the Defense against Dark Arts chapter, and looked at the first spell – Expelliarmo Stupefaction – disarming and stunning a wizard at once.  She repeated the phrase, thinking how useful that could have been before.  Realizing she wouldn’t be able to perform those more advance spells, she went back to the beginning, and started levitating her pillow again.

            A while later, when darkness had set in fully, she got a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.  The noises of her street had died away; leaving an eerie silence that was heavy, like a wet blanket.  Even the breeze had stopped whispering, the air still.  A vile green glow illuminated the page she was reading.  Crookshanks arched his back and hissed.

            Somehow, she knew what she would find, but looked out of her window anyway.  Floating above her house, nearly out of her line of sight, she could make out part of the glowing green skull and snake.  Panic thrilled through her body, and she grabbed her wand from the desk and ran downstairs, calling out for her parents.  Their confused faces met her in the front hallway, wondering why she was screaming.

            “They’re coming,” was all she could say. 

            “What? Who?” her father asked.  She did not answer.

She threw open the front door and went out to the porch as the streetlights went out one by one.  The green luminescence became stronger, lending a sickly color to everything in sight.  Hermione could feel her parents beside her, and, with a nauseating flip of her stomach, knew they had no way of protecting themselves.  She had told them about Voldemort, but didn’t think they really understood.  Her heart was pounding in her chest.  How was she going to protect them by herself?  She didn’t know if she could do it even with Harry and Ron beside her. And Harry and Ron – who would make them study if she wasn’t there? And Ron – oh Ron, she would never get to tell him that she and Viktor were no more than friends.

            All these thoughts flashed through Hermione’s brain in a second.  Because in another second, she had frozen with terror.

            Out of the murky darkness came shapes, half a dozen or more, laughing cruelly under their masks and hoods.  The Death Eaters made a tight semicircle in front of her house.  Hermione heard her mother gasp behind her.

            “Mudbloods and Muggles, fear us!” one shouted, the others echoing his sentiment.

            Crookshanks pressed against her ankles, hissing and spitting at the Death Eaters.  Hermione, taking a firm grip on her wand, shouted back, “No!  We will not fear people who hide behind masks and evil!”

            There was another low, unsettling laugh.  “You should, my dear.  For we have come to kill all of you.”

            “What do you –“ Mr. Granger started toward the crowd, angered by their words.

            “Dad! No!” Hermione screamed.

One of the Death Eaters raised his wand, the tip of it glowing green and getting brighter. “Imperio!” Mr. Granger stopped in his tracks, contorted in a hideous pose.  Hermione watched, seeing the stark terror on her mother’s face, and the pain and fear in her father’s frozen eyes.  They were all going to die if she didn’t do something.  But what could she do against Death Eaters?  She was just a fifth year student.  But she had to do something!  The Death Eater was saying something again, pointing at her father, the tip of his wand burning so bright she could hardly look at it. “You will meddle no more in the work of our Lord. Avada Kedavr—“

For once, Hermione did something without thought.  She pointed her wand at the threatening man and shouted, all the fury, fear and hope pouring out of her. “Expelliarmo Stupefaction!!!”  The force of the spell knocked her backwards, and struck the spellcaster straight on.  She heard her father call out in pain and her mother scream.

Suddenly, there were several popping sounds, and shouts.  Hermione didn’t know what was happening;  her head was spinning.  She crawled over to her father, who lay on the steps of the porch, her mother weeping over him.  She looked around, but couldn’t find her wand, and knew that they would be dead if she couldn’t find it, if her father wasn’t dead already.  Hermione would protect them with her body, if nothing else.  But no more spells came at them. 

Within seconds, the Death Eaters had Disapparated, leaving just the one, frozen and disarmed.  Several Ministry wizards, who had appeared just split seconds before, took him into custody, while others came up onto the porch to help the Grangers. Her father shook his head, groaning.  Hermione let out a whimper of relief that he lived, but then saw the angry burn mark on his face and knew how close he had come to death. Mrs.Granger looked up at her daughter with a gaze of both awe and fear, not understanding what had happened.

Time had suddenly sped up.  Wizards swarmed all over, relighting the streetlights, asking questions of her family, and trying to dispel the Dark Mark.  Hermione just sat with her parents, unmoving for a long moment, amazed that they were still alive, and more amazed at what she had done.

Hermione hadn’t noticed the blisters on her fingers and hands until a kind-faced witch pointed them out to her.  “Don’t worry, dearie, your da’ will be just fine.  You’re going to take a while to heal, though.”

“Where’s my wand?” Hermione asked, shocked to hear how small and frightened her own voice sounded.

The witch clucked her tongue.  “I’m sorry, dear.  It’s been burnt to ashes.  When you force a wand to do that much magic, and you hit another powerful curse at the same time, sometimes that happens.  That’s how your hands got hurt.”  She waved her wand over the burns and Hermione hissed at the severe stinging.  “Don’t worry dear.  It will all be over in a minute.  But then you’ll have to be careful for a while.”

To take her mind off of the burning pains as the witch ran her wand over her hands, she looked around.  She was surprised to see Ron and Mr. Weasley replanting the small hedges that had been trampled in the confusion.  A small smile came to her lips as she caught Ron’s eyes.  He gave her a wide grin and continued straightening the plants.

When the witch finished bandaging her hands, Hermione went inside with her mother and father.  Despite the burn, which was now a dark pink color, neither were hurt very badly, just confused and scared.  Mr.. Weasley joined them in the living room, while Mrs. Weasley (who had Apparated just moments before) made some tea with her wand.  Crookshanks jumped up on her lap and curled up, purring.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I’m so sorry that this happened, but I must say, I’m glad you and Hermione are all right,” Mr. Weasley started.

“What was all this about?” Mr. Granger burst out.  “Why did they want to kill us?”

He went on to explain the situation about Voldemort and the Death Eaters;  the same explanation Hermione had given them once before.

“You okay?” Ron whispered in her ear, sitting on the couch arm beside her.

She smiled wanly up at him, thankful he was here.  “Fine.  Scared, but fine.”

He patted her back, rubbing gently, but didn’t leave her side as the conversation turned to her side of the story.  In fact, Ron’s hand stayed on her through her entire speech, for which Hermione was grateful.  She didn’t expect her story to be as difficult to tell as it was.  When she reached the part about using the combined curse to protect her father, she couldn’t stop herself from sobbing.  When she looked up again, she saw there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, except for Ron and Mr. Weasley.  Her mother squeezed her hand tightly.

“We’d like to extend an invitation to you to stay at our home.  It will be safer for you there,” Mrs. Weasley put in gently.  Hermione heard her parents discuss the issue and decide it was probably safer, at least for the night.  Hermione and her mother went upstairs to get some things for them to bring.

“I’m sorry to say that I must get back to the office.  Molly will escort you back to the Burrow,” Mr. Weasley was saying when they came back down.

“Do you need me to go with you, Dad?”  Ron asked.

He regarded his son and shook his head.  “No. You did well enough when you spotted this as quickly as you did.”  And with that, he Disapparated.

“Now,” Molly Weasley said, producing an old tire iron Portkey.  “If you’re all ready, please gather round.  Mrs. G, can you take the cat?  Oh, Hermione, your hands… well, Ron, hold on to her, will you?  Everyone take hold of this and we’ll be back in the Burrow before you can say – “

Hermione felt a tug around the middle, and thought it was Ron’s arm, which was anchored firmly there.  Ignoring the pain in her hands, she held on to his arm with all her strength as the world around then spun away.  As quickly as it started, it stopped.  Ron set her on her feet in the Weasley’s kitchen and turned to help her parents up.  The twins came in, grinning at Hermione but rather subdued for them, and took the luggage upstairs.  Ginny ran over to hug Hermione.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” she whispered thickly.

“Oh, all right, all right.  Everything turned out okay.  Now, Ginny, take Hermione up to your room.  Ron, would you please show Mr. and Mrs. Granger up to Bill and Charlie’s old room?  I do hope that will be all right,” she said, taking charge.  The Grangers smiled slightly and assured her it would be.  The hour had gotten very late, and they all trudged off to bed.

Hermione sat and talked to Ginny for a while, until it was obvious the younger girl could barely keep her eyes open.  Hermione lay quietly for several minutes, and soon she heard soft snores coming from the other side of the room, then got up and padded down to the kitchen.  She was wide awake, and not nearly ready to find out what dreams would come to her that night.

Surprisingly, she found Ron stoking the big kitchen fire.  He looked concerned as he saw her come in.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly.

“Not yet,” she answered.

“Like some tea?”

“Please.  Thanks.”  She sank into the chair closest to the cheerful fire.  “What are you doing up?”

“Dad or Percy usually stokes the fire before bed, and since they’re not home, I thought I’d do it.”

She sat in silence for a moment, until Ron came over with the teacups.  She noticed that one he had made was huge – three times the normal size of a regular teacup.  She looked at him curiously.

“I thought it would be easier for you to hold a bigger cup,” he shrugged, motioning at her bandages.

“Oh, thanks.”  He was correct.  She held the cup like a bowl and sipped from the edge in silence.

“You were amazing tonight,” Ron told her, staring deep into the fire.  “I couldn’t believe it when I saw it.  Thought you were gone, for sure.”  Hermione thought she heard a hitch in his voice, but didn’t look up from her cup.  In a second, his voice returned.  “But you were amazing.  Hermione the Heroine.  You’ll be heralded in song and legend.”  She snorted with a little laughter at that, looking up at his smile.

“No thank you.  I just did what anyone would do.”

“No.” Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment.  “Mrs. Wingknut – the lady who healed you? – she was telling my dad that your hands got burned by the force of the Avada Kedavra curse as you blocked it, and that your wand had been destroyed in the process.”

Hermione didn’t know why, but the reminder that her wand had been destroyed completely undid her.  She hugged her knees to her body, put her head down and cried.  Vaguely, she heard Ron beside her, mumbling “Don’t worry, we’ll get you a new wand!  A better wand!” as he rubbed her back.  Eventually, she was cried out, so she wiped her tears and looked at Ron.

“Thank you,” she said.

“All right?”

“No.”  She stared into the fire.  “No, I’m not all right.  And neither is anyone else.  But I’m not afraid anymore, Ron.  I’m mad.  Voldem-“

“Please!” he interrupted, looking frightened that she would say His name in his own kitchen.

“No, Ron.  We can’t be afraid of him anymore.  Voldemort,” she said with emphasis, “tried to have me and my family killed.  But they failed.  They were foiled by a fluke of luck – that I happened to read that spell earlier-“

“It wasn’t a fluke of luck.  You were great.  I couldn’t have done that,” Ron cut in solemnly.

She smiled a little at his compliment.  “Sure you could have.  Anyone could have.  The thing is, people are too afraid to stand up to the Death Eaters when they come.  More people hide from them than stand up to them.  That’s how they can get away with it.  They’re no more powerful than regular adult wizards are – in fact, they’re MORE cowardly because they hide.  They’re kind of like the Boggarts – they seem scary, and they are scary and dangerous, but if you stand up to them, you can win.  I think we shouldn’t be afraid anymore.  We should be angry that he’s trying to do this.”

“But, Hermione, what about –“

“No, Ron, she’s right.”

They started, and turned from the fire to find Dumbledore sitting at the table behind them.  How long he had been there, neither knew, but he seemed to have heard most of their conversation.  Hermione blushed, glad he had interrupted before she had said something embarrassing. 

“Sorry to startle you, your father, brother and I just Apparated in with when I heard your conversation, and I didn’t want to interrupt.  And I’m glad I didn’t.  Miss Granger is absolutely correct.  Except about the part about you being great, Hermione.  When Minerva and I discussed giving you the Charms book at the end of term, we had no idea it would be of such great use.  Perhaps someday you’ll be an Auror.  It’s not often that we catch a Death Eater, and recently we have had very little luck.  Your quick wits and bravery have gotten us a pawn from the other side, and that is no small accomplishment.  But it is just beginning.  I came back here with your father, Ron, because there will be a meeting tomorrow, here in the Burrow, to decide what should be done.  And Hermione, I think you have hit the nail on the head.  When Voldemort came to power years ago, everyone was afraid, and rightly so.  His power was the likes we had never seen before.  But he was defeated once, and we can do it again.”  He smiled at the two and cracked a large, fake yawn.  “Now, it is quite late.  If you’ll excuse me, I believe I am bunking down in Percy’s room.  Be aware not to step on your brother when you go up, Ron, as I think he’s in your room.”  He winked as he said his good nights.

After Dumbledore left, the two sat in silence and watched the flames in the fireplace.  Hermione thought about everything he had said and all that had happened.  Her outburst earlier seemed to have calmed her down and made the events of the evening easier to think about.  One thing especially…

“Ron?” she started hesitantly, just as he yawned so widely his jaw cracked.  She laughed.  “Never mind.  Go to bed.”

“No, I’m all right.  What is it?”  He leaned forward in his chair, pinning her with an earnest gaze.

Well, Hermione, she thought to herself, you’re brave enough to face down Death Eaters, you’re brave enough to do this.  She took a deep breath.  “I just wanted to tell you that… Viktor’s not my boyfriend.  I told him we should just be friends.”  She hoped the flush in her cheeks would be hidden in the dim light.

“Really?” Ron’s voice cracked.

“Yeah.”  She raised her eyes from the fire to look at him.

He sat up suddenly.  “Well… good.”

A spark of an argument rose in her, but she was too tired to pursue it.  Instead, she got up and wandered toward the staircase.  “Goodnight, Ron.  And thanks for listening.”

“Goodnight Hermione.”

++++++++++++++

            The next morning, there were more people in the Weasley’s kitchen than Hermione could ever remember.  Her parents were quite stunned to find themselves surrounded by so many witches and wizards, but were happily received by all.  When Professor McGonagall arrive, she gave Hermione a quick, unexpected hug.

            “I knew you could do it!” she said with a grin.  Hermione thought she looked so much prettier with her full smile.

            More people arrived that neither Ron or Hermione knew.  Near nine o’clock Lupin arrived with Sirius in the guise of a black dog.

            “We came as soon as we heard, Dumbledore,” Lupin stated.  “I’m so glad you and your family are all right, Hermione.”  Sirius came over and nudged her hand, and she assumed he felt the same way.

            Soon after, Mrs. Weasley shooed them all out of the house, telling Fred and George that she had enchanted the windows to slam shut if any of the them came anywhere near the house.

            “But we have a right to hear!” Ron said hotly. “Hermione’s family –“

            “We’ll talk to you later, Ron.  You will all have a part in this, I’m sure.”  Mr. Weasley smiled kindly at them all.  “Now, please go outside.  We’ll call you when we’re through.”

            For once, Hermione was grateful for the antics of Fred and George.  Within a little while, they had started a raucous game of Quidditch, and even coaxed Hermione to play, despite her wounded hands.  They didn’t sting as much as they had the night before, and while still bandaged, she could manage to hold onto her broom with little trouble.  She knew she was a terrible Quidditch player, and Ron would much rather have Harry as a teammate, but they all had fun anyway.  Especially when Fred and George played “Monkey in the Middle” with a Quaffle, spinning her back and forth until she laughed so hard she fell off her broom.  They were flying low, she wasn’t hurt, and actually felt better for the laughter.  When the boys and Ginny saw she wasn’t injured, Ron took off after Fred and George, which quickly became a flying race.  Soon, Hermione found herself sitting in the sun watching them zoom around the fields, while Ginny made daisy chains a little way off.

            Hermione felt so peaceful and relaxed that she didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she woke a few hours later.  Ginny was now down by the pond, watching the twins catch frogs using firecrackers.  She blinked and sat up.

            “Hey,” Ron said, from his place a few feet away.

            “Hey,” she replied.  “Meeting still going on?”

            “Yeah.  Mom sent out some lunch a little while ago, though.  Hungry?”  She nodded and he handed her a covered plate of sandwiches.  I had to guard it or Gred and Forge would have eaten it all.”

            “Thanks.”  She ate quickly.  “Ron, I was thinking.  I wish Harry were here.”

            “Yeah.  Me too.  I wanted to send him an owl this morning, but Dumbledore suggested we wait until after the meeting.  I guess the owl could get intercepted or something.”

            “He could be in danger though!”

            “Nah.  Unfortunately, his being at the Dursleys is the safest place for him.  Mum was telling me that it’s been safeguarded many times over.”

            “I still think he should be here.”  She finished her lunch and covered the plate.  Thoughtfully, she went back, “Or maybe not.”

            “What?”

            “He’s been feeling so responsible lately for Cedric’s death.  Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t know  I don’t want you two ditching me all the while so I won’t get hurt.  I mean, that’s nice and all, but if I can help, I want to.”

            “Harry might want to do that, but after last night, if there’s a fight, I want you on my side.  You’re getting to be a pretty powerful witch, Mione.”  He said lightly, but she could tell he meant it seriously.

            “Truth to tell, Ron, if you hadn’t gotten the Ministry there so fast…” she trailed off.  “Percy was bragging about you this morning, before you came down.”

            Ron looked embarrassed.  “That was nothing –“

            “It was something.  We have to look out for each other, because we can’t do it on our own.  Not even Harry.”  She paused, thinking.  “Maybe we should tell him, after all.”

            “And, we’ll tell him that no matter what, he’s stuck with us.  We’re more powerful together than apart.”

            “Do you think he’ll listen?”

            “Probably not.  But he doesn’t have a choice.”

            Their minds made up, they lapsed into silence.  The frogs were croaking down at the pond, Ginny  was laughing, the birds were singing.

            “Do you think you’ll still go on vacation?” Ron asked.

            “Your parents convinced mine that it’s probably safer to go on our trip than stay home.  So, yes.  We leave this weekend.”

            “Are you … are you still going to visit Viktor?”

            “Yes.  As a friend.”

            “Will you still write to me?”  Hermione wasn’t sure, but she thought he sounded a little wistful.

            “Of course.”  She smiled at him.  “Every day, if you’d like.”

            “Please.  Because, I mean, that way we know you’re okay,” he added quickly.

            A shadow fell across them as Lupin came up to them, Sirius padding along with him.  “May I have a word?”

            “Is the meeting still going on?” Ron asked, as Lupin sat next to Hermione, and Sirius lay down by Ron.

            “Yes.  I’m sorry we couldn’t include you this time.  Right now it is very dangerous because we don’t know who’s with us and who’s against us.  Plus, the Ministry is deeply divided on the subject of Voldemort.  Some people are being downright irrational.”  He shook his head.  “But that’s not what I came to talk to you about.  It’s Harry.  We’re worried that he might try to take on all this by himself. That he will try to slip away, and keep you, and us, out of his fight against Voldemort.”

            Ron and Hermione shared a smile.  “We’ve already discussed that.  We’re not going to let him,” Ron said.

            “We thought you might say that.  Not Gryffindors for nothing!”  Lupin’s smile quickly faded.  “But, if at any point you feel you are in too much danger and need to step down, we won’t hold it against you-“

            “I’m not abandoning Harry,” Hermione stated firmly.  “Or you, Ron.”

            “Me either.  Harry and Hermione are my best friends.  I’m with them ‘til the end.”

            “You must know that it will be even more dangerous from now on.  We’re just at the beginning.  It will get very dark near the end.”

            “Then we’ll just need every light we can get.  We’re not afraid, Professor Lupin.  We’ll protect Harry,” Hermione said, eyes flashing.

            “We’ll protect each other,” Ron echoed.

            Sirius put his paw on Hermione’s knee, and she hugged the dog.  “Don’t worry, Sirius.  Together, we’ll win.”

            “If we need you to help, can we call upon you?”

            “Of course,” Ron answered.

            “Then these are for you.”  He handed them each a crystal on a long chain.  The crystal seemed to glow, even in the bright sunlight.  “If you are ever in dire straits and need help, hold this in your right hand and call Pax Dominus.  We will come.  If one of us needs your help, we will do the same.”  Lupin pulled an identical chain from beneath his robe.  “The crystal will help you Apparate – which you will be learning this year.”

            The sun had sunk fairly low in the sky.  Lupin and Sirius stood.  “It’s time for us to be going.  Please let us know if you need anything.  And stay safe.”

            Just then, Mrs. Weasley opened the door and called them back inside.  They saw several of the witches and wizards leave, including McGonagall and Dumbledore.

            “This is really happening, isn’t it?  I mean, we’re really going to fight against Voldemort.”  It all seemed so unreal to Hermione, but at the same time, like it was meant to be.

            “Yeah.”  Ron gave her hand a quick squeeze.  “But you’re right.  We’re going to win.”

++++++++++++++

            Harry flung open his window to let Pig fly in with his message.  It was a long letter from both Ron and Hermione, explaining all that had happened.  He felt terrible for them, and deeply angry about the assault on his friends.  He continued reading.

Sirius and Lupin came and asked us to join the fight.  They said we didn’t have to, but how could we not?  We’re in this, Harry – you, me, and Mione – and we’re not going to give up.  So, don’t go trying to hide from us or ditch us or anything – I’ll use a scrying pool to find you, then I’ll sic Mione on you with one of her kick-butt spells.  So you might as well get used to the fact that you’re stuck with is.  (Aren’t you glad you chose us as your best friends, instead of Seamus or Neville?)

Anyway, we’re going to do this.

Harry, we’re going to win.