5&6

Chapter 5

Finalising

.

Glad To Be Us

"We're good as ready," declared Harry, near the end of the first week in August as they sat around the kitchen table. "I know I've pushed you hard every day but I reckon we should ease off now – I don't mean stop completely, because we need to stay fresh and alert for the real thing. Anyway, we have to do it on the twelfth of this month."

"Six days!" cried Ginny, looking at the others as they each slowly digested the reality of what was to happen in less than a week.

"Yeah, listen – mainly you've trained," resumed Harry, "for a very narrow action that will be finished in seconds. We've rehearsed every reasonable thing we can think of that might occur in that time and I've noticed our reactions sort of instinctively deal with them fairly smoothly because we've done everything so many times."

"Don't we know it," muttered Neville, rubbing an aching left shoulder where he'd been stunned by Ginny that morning and missed the cushions when he fell over.

Harry continued, "We've also polished up our movements so we can do them without thinking – which is good because we can then pay more attention to anything unexpected yet know we'll still react to – well, it's a bit like learning to walk so you can erm... do other things like ooh, I dunno... scratch your nose, but you don't forget to uuh keep walking your legs, uuh..." He scratched his head.

"Nicely put, Harry," smiled Luna.

"Thanks, Luna," he said gratefully. "What I meant to say was we could only indirectly train for the unforeseen, but I think we are now flexible enough to switch to... sort of unknown territory if need be. But all of that is within those few seconds where the enemy are startled and confused and not sure where we are. But if we don't disable all of them straight away then our chances will be... mmm..."

"Slim," said Ginny.

"Uuh, I was going to say zero, really. I mean, once they've got over their shock and cast lights and countered our concealments then, well... maybe there's a chance the four of us together might stop one of them but... anyway, what I'm saying we've got to take them out quickly or we're done for. We need a bit of luck. I wish we had Portkeys or something but we don't," he added dismally.

"Brilliant, crystal-clear, morale-boosting pep talk there, Harry," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, I thought it was really good too," said Luna. "We know exactly where we stand so I think we'll win. I think it's they who need the luck. I'm glad I'm not them. I'm glad I'm us."

Neville chuckled, and even Harry had to fight a smile that teased at the corner of his mouth.

The remaining days fled by. Ginny's birthday fell on the day before their planned visit to the Ministry, so everyone tried to relax. Luna baked a cherry cake with a tiny wishing well on top surrounded by fourteen candles, so Ginny got a free wish this time. They tired themselves out with a box of Weasley's Wheezes and every party game they could think of including spin the bottle then went to bed early, trying not to think of the morrow.

.

Checklist

By the time the sun rose on the twelfth day of August, Harry was already down in the kitchen preparing their final meal. Luna had joined him. For a while they spoke quietly together about how nice the day looked and whether the pumpkin season would be a good one this year. Neither of them voiced their fear they might not live beyond this day, let alone to enjoy Halloween.

Luna had been more sombre these last days, and Harry felt guilty about it. She was risking her life because of him, and deserved to have enjoyed what might be the last days of her life. He'd ruined all that for her with his attitude. Her hair was gold in the morning light, and when she smiled innocently up at him, a deep shame took him. "Luna..."

She put a finger on his lips. "The fish are almost cooked. Would you like to wake Neville and Ginny?"

He nodded. In this homely, family environment she seemed quite grownup and not at all her usual scatterbrained self. He wondered if he'd still see her occasionally when he himself had left childhood behind and was married to Ginny. After all, she was Ginny's friend really, not his. That thought seemed very odd suddenly.

"Harry?"

"Oh, yeah, right, Neville and Ginny."

Neville wasn't on his couch when Harry ascended the spiral stair. He tapped softly on the bathroom door and whispered, "Breakfast's nearly ready."

Halfway up the next stair, Harry thought he heard him answer. He looked back, shook his head, then continued ascending. He poked his head up into Luna and Ginny's room and called softly, "Ginny, breakfast is–"

He froze. Neville and Ginny were perched on the edge of her bed in a deep embrace. Their lips and limbs separated as Neville leapt up backwards onto his feet. "Harry! We were just... we were only..."

Harry didn't remember walking down the stair. A large icicle was plunged through his chest. He'd held her future self like a mother back in Little Whinging. That love couldn't have been faked. Could it? And his own future self? His being her husband. Had the whole thing been imaginary? This day today, his life – everyone's life, depended on it. He was still shaking his head in a daze as he entered the kitchen.

"They've been looking at each other since the Yule Ball," Luna said softly. "But Neville was too shy to talk much to her again. That's why Ginny's here. That's why she came. You gave her a good reason to invite Neville. She was sure he'd come... for you."

Dumbly, Harry said, "You knew?"

She nodded.

His chest was still in a vice as he stared at the billy cod poaching gently on the stove. It seemed curious to Harry that the universe could be continuing as if nothing had happened. The sky remained blue, clouds remained fluffy and white, and through the open window came the distant sound of Mrs Wiggley's surviving elequants murmuring softly to each other in the meadow. So peaceful the day...

"Are we doing the checklist over breakfast then?" It was Ginny's voice, quite matter-of-fact. He didn't look at her. He couldn't.

"Mmm," he said and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat with an awkward cough. "Yeah." Then dug the list out of his backpack, still not looking up.

Breakfast was not the last day bonding event it should have been.

"All got your mirrors and know what to do with them and when?" said Harry, one fork on his fish, one eye on his checklist. "You've smashed yours, Nev?"

"Yes," the three replied. Neville held up a small package wrapped in string.

"And it's bowed not knotted? You've practised untying it quickly?"

Neville nodded his head. "Over and over. I'll stick close to Ginny and share hers."

Harry gave him a funny look then growled, "Right."

He lost his place in the list and scowled for a while until he found it again. "Luna, we need to pour in the Pepsi right after this meal."

"Everything's ready."

"Still got my cloak?"

"In my bag." Luna tapped the little hip bag hanging from her chair. "What about rehearsing your speech?"

Harry was about to shake his head but he knew he had no right. "Yeah... erm... 'Don't come. I can do this on my own now. Uuh... I've found... erm..."

"Well, that's not very convincing," said Ginny.

"I'll be alright when the time comes," said Harry, rising from the table with the checklist in his hand. "I know it, but I need to get fired up. I'm a bit flat right now," he added with the trace of a glare at Neville.

He read from his list, "Watches?" Everyone nodded. "It'll be six – oh – six in... FIVE... FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE... now."

"Got it," said Neville.

"Right, spells then. Ginny, you're all ready with your door marker?"

Ginny nodded, and reached down to the side pocket of her jeans. "Wait, what about wands? I know it's stupid but..."

"Yeah, you're right, and it's not stupid. It'd be real dumb if anyone forgot the obvious after all this rehearsing. Everybody show their wands."

Four wands were raised in the air. Ginny chanted, "Flagrate," and cast a bright red X upon the backdoor.

Harry nodded his approval. "Now, Disillusionment Charm. He tapped Neville on the head with his wand.

"Oy!" cried Neville, rubbing the very top of his cranium. "Didn't need to be that hard!" His glare was wasted. They heard him shuddering but only a slight shimmer indicated he was still sitting in his chair.

To counter the charm, Harry rapped him again, even harder, and with a yell, Neville appeared once more. "What was that for?"

"Just making sure," said Harry. There was a malicious note to his voice.

He read from the list again. "Stupefy we've done a million times... mmm... Shield charms."

There were cries of "Protego."

"Yours is still a bit weak, Neville. Luna, if I forget, can you do his once we're in the Prophecy room?"

"I'll do it," said Ginny, firmly. "I'll help Neville. I'll be nearest," she added.

"Uuh... right then. Mmm... now, masks."

They all pulled out their school scarves. Ginny waved hers in the air. Luna was holding hers over her mouth, and so did Neville.

"Remember, it's strength of intention that powers a spell. We only normally shout to increase our intensity but with practice you can just as easily be intense with a softly-spoken incantation. So with these scarves over your mouths as well then you're three-quarters of the way to a nonverbal, especially with the decoys.

Ginny said, "Why've you got a scarf though, Harry? They're going to see you anyway."

"Dunno. Just in case, I guess."

"I don't think you should. I mean, it might tip them off there are others of us hidden there. Anyway, they'll think it odd. You're only supposed to be down there on your own to get the Prophecy. Why would you have a scarf over your mouth?"

"Mmm... maybe you're right." He stuffed his scarf back in his bag. He suddenly felt more apart from the others; like an exposed newcomer among seasoned bandits. Masks seemed to obscure anxiety, and even Neville looked more ruthless than Harry felt right now.

"Next, robes so we blend in, and don't forget to pin your badges on the outside, so do that last. Now, erm... chocolate – yes... decoys – yes... that leaves... let's get your basilisk eye armed and dangerous then Luna."

"How are we going to do this, Harry?" said Neville, rather nervously, as they rose from the table.

"Just me, and I think I should be blindfolded for the last bit." Harry carried his bag over to the sink. "No need for any of you to be in here at all. Safest if you all go outside – and stay away from the windows."

"But I should be the one to do it," said Luna in a sulky tone. "I'll be the one using it."

"No, even while it's harmless, it's too horrible to look at, and even worse to touch."

"I don't mind. Fear of the unknown is worse than what you've got used to. I need to be comfortable with it."

'Comfortable' was not any kind of word that Harry would ascribe to being around a basilisk eye – armed or not – but he relented. "Together then."

.

Feelings

Ginny and Neville dashed upstairs so eagerly that Harry stared after them, regretting his own instruction to the couple.

"I wonder what two of them would be like together?" mused Luna.

"One's as disgusting as the other I reckon," muttered Harry, bitterly.

"Oh, I think they'd be pretty side by side."

When Harry looked round she was gazing down into the bucket where they'd stored the eye.

They stood the open bean can in the sink and, by its side, the shortbread cap and the eyelids. Luna poured in the teardrops from the Pepsi can then they crouched down together in front of the under-sink cupboard and drew out the bucket between them.

"We won't be able to tie the knot once our hands are all slimy," said Luna, groping in her bag.

"Oh, right."

He watched her fasten her Ravenclaw scarf round her eyes then did the same with his own house scarf. Blind, he reached out slowly to avoid knocking over the bucket. Their fingers met and guided each other down into the warm water, where Luna took charge without asking. He let her mould his hands into cups like her own, before lowering them carefully around the eyeball. It was definitely more secure with their four hands tightly bowled together but Harry became distracted when they both had to bend forward and his face touched Luna's.

They rose slowly together, off-balance but leaning into each other while letting the surplus water drain away. They stood holding the eye over the bucket like that for half a minute or so – longer than needed really – then gently moved it over and down to the bean can in the sink. The eye did not slide in easily but came to rest sideways on the opening – as sightless as themselves. Harry and Luna held the beastly thing there, wondering what to do.

"It's swollen up quite a bit," he explained, then cringed with embarrassment when Luna giggled softly. The scent of the clematis through the open window was intoxicating his thinking so badly that he could not keep his mind on the problem literally in hand.

Luna squeezed thoughtfully a few times. "A bit longer than it's fat, that's why. Go by feel," she said, turning her face away from the eye and up to his. "It's easier if we don't imagine we're looking at it, but just feel our way, don't you think? Pretend you're looking at me instead."

Harry tried not to. He sensed her fingers sensitively teasing the cornea around to face upward and he copied her movements to help. Despite its repulsive nature, the object was soft, slightly warm, and extremely slippery between their fingers, so they had to be very careful.

"Now push it in very, very gently," she breathed in his ear. Luna's apparent innocence made every word doubly suggestive, and Harry's face was burning with nowhere to hide. Deep within his loins was another fire causing him to bite his lip hard.

The mood was intensified by a sudden slurping sound, and the eyeball was sucked down into the canister. The couple continued holding each other's sloppy, slimy hands for a few moments then Luna said softly. "I'll hold it upright while you cover the end."

Harry's eyes winced tight at the absurdity of what she was saying. He groped for the eyelids, choosing his own words more carefully. "The clear one is on my left, right?"

"On your left, yes."

After many long, intense moments of delicate fondling between their fingers, the first film slipped into place. The second one – the one that had been darkened – took much longer. Harry could not dispel the notion that Luna was deliberately stroking his fingers in the wrong direction to delay the completion.

Eventually it was over and Luna clamped the cap on tightly. A final rinse under the tap and they shared a towel to dry off.

Pulling off his blindfold, Harry blinked as sunlight hit his eyes once more. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

Luna was smiling at him. "We did it!"

What she meant by that, Harry was unsure. He was striding, somewhat stiffly, to shout upstairs. "Ready!" he called.

With his back to Luna, he waited, listening, glowering with impatience. What was keeping them? A vision of long legs entwined round Ringo Friggin' Starr's butt swamped his mind. "READY!" he bellowed. He couldn't wait to thwack Neville again with a concealment spell. That fat ugly strumpet too. How dare she! She's as good as engaged to ME, Harry Potter! A sickening sensation of the certainty of that fact hit him. There was no way to cheat Time – no way that didn't risk a deadly paradox. Even Hermione had warned him about risking that in second year. But blissfully happy in 2004? He and Ginny? How could they be while she was already being unfaithful?

Luna's touch on his arm made him jump – almost into the air.

"They only snatched their robes from upstairs then went straight out the front door."

She pointed through the window, and Harry could see Neville and Ginny warming up their stunning charms on the scarecrow. He felt himself deflate, and turned away to get his checklist from the backpack. It was almost time to go. Time to die.

Chapter 6

Showtime!

.

Spearhead

The Knight Bus hurtled the four friends directly to Diagon Alley where they bought Floo tickets and fidgeted about in the communal agency.

"How long do we wait here, Harry?" said Neville, who was beginning to feel stressed already.

Harry consulted his watch for the umpteenth time. "Eight more minutes. How's your nerve holding, Neville? You're up first, remember, because of your height."

Neville palmed his robes then his badge to make sure he was all there. "I'm good."

He didn't sound it. Neville was stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together as if it were February. Ginny took his arm and he relaxed a little.

The minutes ticked by.

"Once inside, walk through the gate with the middle-aged couple in grey robes, remember?"

"I know."

"Sixty seconds. Get ready, Nev."

Neville moved up to the nearest Floo, silently mouthing his destination over and over.

"Got your wand at hand? 'Lumos' remember? And hold it high."

Neville nodded.

"Three ... two ... one ... go, Nev!"

Like a condemned man, Neville stumbled into the green flames. "Ministry Eighteen," he said, then he was gone.

Ginny looked white-faced suddenly, and was screwing up her eyes. Harry wondered if she was going to cry.

.

Sweating

Neville Longbottom was shaking when he emerged from Ministry Floo eighteen but he strode resolutely forward as he'd rehearsed so often with Luna and Harry clad in ash-daubed tablecloths round their shoulders. This time, however, was different. Instead of his friends, a couple of grey-robed figures were walking ahead of him. He stared almost in disbelief and kept walking. Harry had told him there was a security desk behind to his right but he didn't look back.

Through the golden gates, he veered left and buttoned the first lift in the corner. The door opened instantly as expected, he stepped in, and his thumb almost pulled itself onto Button 9. He didn't look round when the golden grid clanged shut behind him, and the lift began to descend.

"One Manticore, Two Manticore, Three Manticore. Lumos. Wand up high in right hand. Turn to door." He said it all aloud – as planned – to help him focus. Inside he was muttering, Straight across. Straight across. Straight across.

The lift juddered to a halt. There was a second of agonising nothing-happening, then the door opened once more onto a gloomy stone corridor. Wand up. Straight across.

Far to his right he knew there'd be a plain black door at the end of a long corridor. Standing invisible before it would be Sturgis Podmore on guard. But Neville was not concealed. They couldn't chance Podmore coming to investigate a lift opening but apparently nobody getting out. Neville was praying his own height, his arm and blazing wand covering his face on that side, and distance, would make Podmore's brief glimpse of an openly-self-assured, non-furtive, short adult cause no concern.

Only two seconds had elapsed from lift to the open doorway opposite but once he'd made it – once he was out of sight again – Neville wanted only to lean against the wall and pant. He couldn't. He mustn't. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Down the stairs he went without breaking his stride at all. Not running. Not creeping. He'd practised his medium pace on the spiral stair back at the Lovegoods. But his heart hadn't been thumping so hard then.

"Nox." His wandlight went out. The corridor was even more gloomy than the one above, having ominous, thick, dark-wood doors with heavy bolts lining both walls.

Package. Place on floor at foot of stairs against wooden door. Untie bow. Open wrapping. Carefully slide out shards of broken mirror onto the floor. Put string in paper. Close up wrapping. Put in pocket. Turn.

Nothing wrong with my memory, He almost grinned. Gran would be proud! She'd – FOCUS, Neville!

He thwacked himself hard on the head with the best concealment spell he could muster, then examined his arms. Only the faintest glimmer revealed his presence in the torchlight, and then only when he moved. He really did grin this time. It hurt.

Back up the stair he went to a few steps below the top one. He could barely see even the uppermost grid strut of the open lift – but he could listen. Wristwatch up. Merlin! He'd done his best-ever concealment charm so now couldn't see the time! He'd always been able to see it in practice. Wait. Wait. Wait. Was that fifty Manticores or sixty? Wait. Wait. Wait.

This was torture for Neville. Knowing the time wasn't critical – but it had been expected to reassure him.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Manticores long forgotten. Wait. Wait. Wait.

CLANG!

In the silence, the closing of the lift door had sounded like the knell of doom. He was cut off! Knowing that's how it was supposed to happen did not reassure him in the slightest. He was trapped and only Harry's word that everything would work out stopped him from panicking.

Heart pounding, he listened to the lift ascend away from him. He knew what came next and a wave of nausea swept through his stomach as he continued to mark time. It seemed an age until he faintly heard the lift descending once more. He closed his eyes tight. He didn't need to see – didn't want to.

CLANG!

The lift opened once more. He knew without opening his eyes who must have come out. Who had the power to take a couple of steps across the corridor and see right through his pathetic spell! Instead, he heard a few footsteps along the corridor then a man's voice:

"Imperio!"

That was Neville's cue. Screwing up every ounce of his Gryffindor courage he tiptoed slowly upwards, but the voice continued:

"Podmore, you will fetch me the Prophecy of Harry Potter."

At the top of the stair, Neville didn't even look at the speaker on his left (hopefully with his back to him,) instead he turned sharp right. He knew it was a dead end, but there were a couple of paces between the edge of the lift door and this end of the corridor. Neville squatted facing the corner opposite the lift and pressed himself hard against the wall as if every inch mattered. The stone was cool against his forehead.

Silence. He could not resist a look. As he pulled his face from the wall he saw a dark patch of damp where his brow had rested. Was the man looking this way right now?

A lock clicked way down the corridor. That would be Podmore unlocking the black door. Neville twisted his head round even more. He could almost... see... now...

"DON'T COME!"

Startled, and overbalanced in his crouch, Neville's head collided with the wall. It was Harry's voice from the broken mirror downstairs:

"I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN NOW. I'VE FOUND ANOTHER WAY IN!"

"Wait!" That was the Death Eater's voice controlling Podmore with the curse. Neville could see his back finally. Tall. Dark, expensive robes and leather gloves. Long blond hair. It was Lucius Malfoy.

"I CAN GET IN THE ROOM BY EIGHT TEN. I'll GET THE PROPHECY AND BE GONE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!"

That had been Harry's voice again, then...

CRASH!

That would be the sound of Harry's own mirror being smashed back at Diagon Alley – the sound coming through the broken mirror downstairs.

"DAMN!" – Harry's voice. "I'M GOING NOW!"

Malfoy hurled himself down the stairs in a fury, leather boots pounding on the steps. "POTTERRRR!"

Neville could hear him cursing down there. The sound of a heavy metal bolt being pulled back came up next. More cursing and the noise of a boot kicking out at the shards of glass. Other bolts sounded and doors crashed open. All the beautiful noises of disappointment.

Finally, footsteps came thundering up again. Neville pressed himself into his wall and prayed.

"You will leave this place and return to your normal duties!" Malfoy snarled.

For a moment, Neville thought Malfoy was addressing Neville himself, but the gate crashed shut, the lift ascended, and Neville took a deep breath. Yet it wasn't over by any means...

Sturgis Podmore was walking towards him. He was a tough-looking, square-jawed wizard with straw-coloured hair. As he drew closer, Neville could see he was staring as one in a daze. After he had pressed the lift button, the man waited motionless with no indication of impatience. And when the lift arrived he gave no impression of relief or even interest, but simply stepped inside.

After he had gone, Neville began to quiver again. He was soaked in sweat and he couldn't remember the anti-odour spell that Harry had made everyone learn in order to remain stealthy.

Dumbledore could sense Ron, myself, and Hermione underneath a perfect invisibility cloak, Harry had told them all. He couldn't possibly see us so, unless he cast a spell, it must have been slight sounds, or scent, or body heat that gave us away.

Neville knew that right now he was supposed to go through the black door at the far end of the corridor, but though his teeth were rapidly chattering and clacking with fear, his limbs wouldn't move at all. When he heard the lift descending once more he had utterly forgotten who would be coming down. He only knew he was hot and sweaty yet frozen with terror and gasping so noisily for air that the mighty Dark Lord Voldemort could not possibly fail to detect him.

As the door clanged open, he held his breath finally.

Harry Potter stepped out. He wasted no time but strode away down the corridor followed by Luna. But Ginny had stopped on the threshold looking puzzled.

"Harry! Wait!"

Harry was looking back worriedly before he'd even skidded to a halt.

"Neville?" said Ginny.

A deep, deep shame came over Neville. He wiped tears from his eyes, taking care not to wipe them where they'd become visible. "Ah..." he managed to croak in a quavering voice. "Forgot... uuh." His throat was so dry he could hardly speak. "Wasn't I supposed to wait for you here?"

"That's right," said Ginny. "Uuh... yes, if you'd done a really good concealment and erm... if you didn't have time before the lift started down again, it was best to wait. Yeah. Good thinking. Bloody good concealment charm isn't it, Harry?"

"Sure. You did good, Nev," Harry said quietly, and turned to go.

Neville knew that everyone was aware that Ginny had been lying, but the diversion strengthened him enough to stand up and, Ginny taking his arm as if to lean on him, he proceeded with them all towards the door. He barely heard her whisper the no-smell charm.

.

Revelation in a Circular Room

They were standing in a large, round room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

"Ginny, shut the door and mark it quickly," Harry muttered. He'd closed his eyes tight and, keeping motionless, had his arm and wand pointing fixedly at the place where he knew the way forward would be on the opposite side and slightly left.

Ginny scowled at his coldness but did as she was told and, in fact, cast her flaming red X so angrily it flared over most of the door. "No mistaking the exit then," she said firmly, and crossed her arms.

But Harry was still not looking anywhere but inwardly at the memory of his dream. Anyway, now the entrance was closed, the chamber had become so dark that for a while the only things anyone could see were the bunches of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the floor.

"Everyone close your eyes!" commanded Harry. "Or you'll have trouble seeing after."

Abruptly there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating. The blue flames began to blur around them into an intense streak of neon.

As suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

"That one!" cried Harry. "That door there. That's the way!"

As they opened their eyes, Harry was in the same pose as before, but a different door was now in front of his pointing wand.

Seeing that Harry was reluctant to lose track of the correct door even for one instant, Neville stepped forward, pushed it open, and with one hand still on the door in case it swung back, turned to Ginny to stretch out his other arm in a showy gesture of great accomplishment. It had been an innocent over-reaction to hide his nerves but Harry scowled. Vivid brightness spilled over Neville from the open doorway but it scarcely lit the dark surfaces of the chamber they were in. Ginny ran forward to stand beside her man and Neville's arm slid down around her waist.

Neville! thought Harry contemptuously. The stumbling, forgetful baby who'd obviously cowered outside in the corner of the corridor, paralysed with fear, yet now stole MY future bride as well as MY limelight!

Harry pushed on to stand in his opened doorway first and glared over his shoulder. He almost wished he could leave them all here: Luna was alright but Ginny was no more than a repulsive outgrowth from a–

His jealous thoughts came to a halt. Blindly looking back into the dark as he was, Luna had also come tentatively forward, but remained unlit by the next room. And yet, though still in complete shadow, she was clearly silhouetted by Ginny's pompously over-sized Flagrate spell blazing behind her. Luna's fair hair was now a brilliant red eruption of glory against the black backdrop of the round room; a fiery halo that Harry knew he'd seen before. Where? There could be no mistake: in the alley at the side of the garage back in Little Whinging.

"Harry, we've got to go," said Neville. "Malfoy's had time to get outside and summon You-know-who with his dark mark. Bellatrix and him – they'll come back invisibly into the Ministry with Malfoy as cover!"

All doubts fled Harry Potter's heart. Ginny, with her red hair, was lovely – he could not deny her that fact – but he now perceived Luna as very special to him in comparison. With this release, an immense truth dawned in Harry's mind. Ginny wasn't evil. It had been Ginny that had brought him to Luna. Ginny who had answered his call for help. Ginny who now was prepared to die fighting beside him. Neville too – a shaky grin on his face – had excelled himself this day, and was a true hero. He had answered the call without hesitation. As for Luna, she had not even known Harry before he arrived at her home, yet here she was...

"Harry?" said Ginny. "What's wrong? We've not much time! Are you alright? How can we help?"

In a moment he was embracing Ginny with his shame and gratitude. Perhaps his thanks were blubbered – to her and then all of them. And perhaps there were tears shining. "Luna, g-give me the b-bean can. I can do b-both on my own. You've come this far but there's no–"

"Harry, no! I've practised for this!" protested Luna. "I'm the best pointer you said!"

"We need her!" cried Neville. "Harry we've trained with Luna. She's our backup – for Ginny and me!"

"Harry, we'll fall apart without Luna," said Ginny, quietly.

A distant clang! from behind the black door through which they had arrived – the door which was now ablaze with harmless but fiery red flames – made Harry's decision for him.

"That was the lift! He's coming!" cried Ginny, suppressing her shriek with one hand. "Harry, You-know-who's coming right now! Luna can't go back! She can't!"

Swiftly they sped onward through the open door and quietly closed it behind them.

.

Deductions

Level 9's corridor, never a warm, friendly entryway, seemed to visibly chill when Lord Voldemort and two other figures stepped into it. "Did you say, Lucius, that it was here you saw Potter?"

"Down those stairs, my Lord. That is, I did not actually uuh... see him – but his voice is well known to us and it was extremely loud and clear. I have not a single doubt that it was him."

"Indeed. Loud and clear, you say? He made no attempt to avoid being overheard?"

Lucius opened his mouth but had no answer.

Voldemort pressed on. "And where were you?"

"Master, but a few steps further along here. I was casting the Imperious upon Podmore as ordered when–"

"Yes, yes. Then show me Potter's 'secret way'. Wait. What have you found, Bellatrix?"

The fingers of the dark witch who had accompanied the other two, were pointing at a dark patch on a corner stone. "Fear," was all she said.

"Interesting..." said the high, cold voice, "most interesting. Lead on, Lucius." The Dark Lord's pale white hand pointed down the steps.

"My Lord, time is most pressing, would it not be prudent to–"

"I wish to see how Potter might manage his miraculous escape, that we might cut off his... retreat, as they say. Surely you must have considered such an obvious course of action?"

"Of course, my Lord. I merely wished to–" He was stopped abruptly by a single glare from the Dark Lord and hurried down the steps with the others following.

"Here, my Lord. Potter dropped this spying glass device here. I have no doubt he communicated with others outside."

"I see..." Voldemort did not trouble himself with more than a cursory glance at the broken mirror. "And the 'secret way' you found."

"Ah... not yet found, Master. I consider that informing you is my first duty always."

"And your opinion then?" Voldemort was glancing around the walls and ceiling with deeply set red eyes. "Were these doors all bolted from the outside when you made your... search?"

"They were, my Lord. In any event they all lead only into temporary holding cells – apart from Court 10 at the end of course. There is no way out."

"And yet you suppose Harry Potter slipped through your fingers here. How might that be? Can the boy Disapparate from the Ministry when the Dark Lord himself cannot?"

"My Lord, there is no Apparition in or out of the Ministry nor can any Portkey aid entry or escape."

Voldemort turned his back on Malfoy and began ascending the steps once more. "Am I to understand that Potter is now able to pass directly through stone? Is that your explanation, Lucius?"

"Master, if we..."

The white, almost skeletal hand was raised, and Malfoy stopped his utterance immediately.

"What do you make of this, Bellatrix?" The Dark Lord was indicating another damp spot a short way before the top of the stair.

The witch had already examined the dust churned around on one particular step below the dark patch on the wall. She placed herself upon it. "The boy is my height?" she asked.

Lucius answered as soon as his master gestured to him. "Yes, that would be about right."

"Then here stood Harry Potter, keeping watch and listening for the lift gate." She hurried on ahead, anticipating her master's wish to return to the upper corridor.

"The evidence is clear," said Voldemort rather coolly. "Potter deliberately broke the glass earlier then kept watch for you here, Lucius. While you attempted to control Podmore without due care as to what is going on behind you, the boy – under the simplest of concealments – sat in the corner above, his tears of mirth at your stupidity smearing those walls. Doubly so when he somehow projected his voice to that apparently broken device and watched you trot down to draw the wrong conclusions. Then, with the high security door now unlocked – by your own Imperious curse – you dismissed the only guard and ran away, leaving Potter to freely stroll in and take the Prophecy."

"My Lord!"

"Is my assessment sound or not?"

There was only the briefest hesitation. "Sound as always, Master."

"I will deal with you later, but let us now consider the trap."

"Trap?"

"Of course. We hoped to lay a trap for the boy and retrieve the Prophecy. Because of your incompetence, he has turned that on its head. What do you think awaits us in the Prophecy room?"

"Why, by your own reasoning, he must return this way with the Prophecy. You could pluck it from him easily. We could wait here on these steps to jump out when–"

"Wait? Not knowing his plan?" Voldemort sighed and walked the last few steps up to the lift corridor.

"My Lord?" said Bellatrix. "If I may?"

Voldemort's eyes flickered to her face and the dark witch's eyes shone with adoration.

"Yes, Bellatrix. Perhaps you can dispel Lucius's confusion."

"The boy must have known of this part of your plan from someone in the Order – perhaps ... Snape?"

Voldemort's eyes lifted to show his interest. "Go on."

"Knowing your desire to take the Prophecy, what better than to curse it in some way? There are curses that will not harm their caster."

"You hear that, Lucius? You would have me wait here to take a cursed Prophecy?"

"My Lord, it is most unlikely that Potter would know how to–"

"SILENCE!"

The flame of the nearest torch guttered and struggled to recover.

"Unlikely, you say? Then perhaps you could test your opinion for me? How would that be?"

"My Lord..." mumbled Lucius, bowing his head in fear and horror at the pit he had dug for himself.

"Lead on then, Lucius, since you appear to know more than the Dark Lord himself. I shall feel most safe in your hands – come whatever dangers lie in wait for us."

.

Row Ninety-Seven

The bright room the four youngsters had entered boasted a great many timepieces of different sorts, as well as other fascinating objects.

"Oh, look!" said Luna, as they hurried along. "How sweet!". She was pointing at the very heart of a bell jar inside which floated a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar. But its feathers quickly became bedraggled causing it to descend and by the time it had reached the bottom of the jar it had become enclosed once more in its egg.

"Touch nothing! Keep going!" said Harry. "It's this last door here."

He swung it open to reveal a vast, shadowy chamber, high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, grimy, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the faint light issuing from candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

"You said it was row ninety-seven?" whispered Neville.

"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking at his checklist.

They crept onward in near-total darkness down the long alleys of shelves

They passed row ninety-four ... ninety-five ...

"Ninety-seven!" whispered Ginny.

For a few moments they stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing upon the numerous spheres that filled it, then gradually moved down the aisle.

"Harry... Potter..." breathed Luna in a dreamy voice. "That one has your name on it, Harry," said Luna.

Harry moved a little closer. Luna was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years. "This is it!"

He looked around excitedly at the arrangement of the other shelves and boxes. "Everything is how he – I – described it! There look, Luna, between those huge crates there's a narrow space giving you good cover and it's really dark! Neville! Ginny! Look – behind that heavy shelving. It's perfect."

"Yes, look!" cried Ginny, as they squeezed through into the narrow passage behind the shelves. "There are the exit doors at either end. Where'd they lead to Harry?"

"No idea, but trust me, they'll get you out the safest way if you have to run for it."

"What about you, Harry?" said Luna, mournfully. You've got no cover at all."

For a moment, Harry was lost. Within the intensity of the moment, he'd not had time to consider the future with this girl. There was no doubt in his mind now that he'd met her – married to his future self – in the Magnolia Crescent passage. His mind wished to dwell on that for much longer. His soul was drawn to her presence. His protective instincts stirred–

"Harry?"

He shook his head to clear it. "The Prophecy itself is my cover. So long as I have it then they daren't risk breaking it."

"And after?"

"That's when the screaming starts."

A distant rumbling alerted them to their stations.

"The circular room! The walls are spinning again!" cried Ginny.

"Right," said Harry, hurling decoys way over the shelving in all directions to surround them with a dull background hum, rush, and hubbub, as if all around them many unseen speakers were running machinery beside a busy road and several waterfalls. Fog soon enveloped them, limiting good vision to their needs. Harry could see no further than necessary but had to raise his voice to be heard. "Positions. Concealments. Scarves. Wands. Luna – put on my invis–" He paused just for a moment, knowing that once she put on his cloak he might never see her again. They did look into each other's eyes, then there was a crash in the next room and Harry turned to seize the Prophecy.

.

The Dozen Doors

"Well, Lucius. A dozen doors and a dozen possibly fatal traps. Which shall you choose?"

He looked back the way they had entered. "Close the door, Bellatrix, and remove Potter's marker. He shall not find it so easy to run out on us if that is his plan."

She ran eagerly to do his bidding.

"Well, Lucius?"

"We cannot... that is...

The walls spun and their eyes were left dazzled.

"Ingenious. Now your task is made more difficult, Lucius. Choose!"

While Malfoy hesitated, Voldemort looked back to where Bellatrix was attempting to remove the marker. "Master, I have countered the magic but his spell was so clumsy, it deeply scarred the door itself."

"No matter. It will serve us just as well – and Potter will not be returning."

Malfoy was taking a bearing from the damaged door, then ran to the door directly opposite it. It was locked and no spell would open it. "Master, I am sorry but perhaps you might..."

"Fool, the boy could not have gone that way, could he! Pick another or you will try my patience for the last time!"

Frantic now, Lucius ran from door to door. He looked briefly inside for any sign of Harry but slammed the doors rapidly for fear of what might harm him.

Voldemort snarled, "Desist. I thought this might amuse me longer. The correct door is obvious. Show him Bellatrix."

"Of course, Master."

She ran to a door on the left. "Here he stood holding his sweaty hand on this door before going through. I can smell his panic."

"Lead on then, Lucius."

Trembling with dread, Malfoy cautiously opened the door a crack and peered through while Voldemort raised his eyes to the heavens.

"He is not here my Lord." There was some relief in Malfoy's tone.

"Then go through and find him. There you will find the Prophecy. We shall be right behind you, under your protection."

Bellatrix uttered a laugh that at best was tentative; even the Dark Lord's most favoured deputy remained forever cautious in his presence.

.

Best Laid Plans

Amongst the feeble candles a cloud of low fog had gathered within which a single bright light glowed briefly, then was gone. Attract the moth, then blind it. Deafen and confuse it too, the Dark Lord mused as he approached the perplexing commotion. His eyes followed the uneasy progress of Lucius Malfoy towards the self-evident trap, relishing the thought of his humiliation as well as the attainment of the knowledge within the Prophecy – and the utter destruction of that irritating Potter once and for all. "Come Bellatrix. Circle behind Potter, then tell me what is there."

"An honour, my Lord." The dark witch disappeared silently into the shadows.

Malfoy was almost upon the row where Potter must be, yet he hesitated. Whatever doubts and fears he held concerning his master, he'd always respected the Dark Lord's perceptiveness. If Lord Voldemort suspected a trap then Malfoy expected it too. He knew he was being watched from behind by those piercing red eyes, and that he was expected to perform well. Yet ahead was an unknown, probably deadly fate. If only he could see and hear properly; he might as well be wandering an unlit, noisy, smoky Muggle factory.

A dark figure, little more than a broken shadow, stood along the row. Its height was that of a youth. Malfoy observed for a while, aware that he in turn was being scrutinised by his Master. The boy was staring up at a shelf slightly above him, as if searching. Had he not yet found the Prophecy? His left arm was reaching up, but he did not take. A glint of light near the end of that limb indicated Potter was checking his wristwatch – and checking it once too often. What was he waiting for?

A thin voice immediately behind him hissed. "He's waiting for you of course, Lucius."

Malfoy shuddered and instantly froze, terrified that his master had seen his revulsion at the invasion of his thoughts. Uncertain death lay ahead – certain death behind.

"Yes, closer, Lucius. Let us draw Potter out."

As if on that cue, the boy's wand in his right hand cast a tiny light, his left seized one of the dusty spheres, and he began examining one side of it.

"Bravo," said the cold voice.

Harry whirled around, his short wand swerving left and right defensively, the Prophecy clutched awkwardly with his left hand.

"Oh, Harry, surprised to see us? ... I think not," called the Dark Lord.

"Keep your distance, Riddle, or I'll break it!" cried Harry from further down the row on the opposite the aisle.

Another figure rejoined her master.

"What news of his backup and retreat, Bellatrix?" murmured the Dark Lord.

"Master, there is nothing behind him. The rows beyond are empty and nowhere to go. There are scattered decoys – too many to clear away quickly."

"I see... very well, a little more light is needed right here then. Tell me what you find." One hand moved slightly and a ribbon of radiant energy snaked upward to hover over the proceedings, but the fog, and the countless confusing reflections of the spheres – a starry sky surrounding them – limited the light's effectiveness to this one row.

"You may continue, Lucius." The voice was kept low.

"My Lord?"

"The Prophecy. Go forth and summon the prophecy."

"Master, I have reason to believe he had ample time to curse the Prophecy and place it back on its shelf before retrieving it once more. He hesitated to take it again, And see how delicately he holds it between his fingertips."

"An interesting theory, Lucius, but do you suppose this simpleton boy has discovered a means of cursing only half an object?"

Bellatrix's laughter was like broken glass.

"I do not know how to be certain, my Lord," sobbed Lucius, his head bowed.

"I do, Lucius."

"Master?"

"Take the Prophecy yourself. If you survive then I shall know it is safe for me to take from you, won't I? Step away from me and summon the Prophecy, Lucius. I insist."

Lucius knew he must obey, though his wand arm shook alarmingly. "Accio Prophecy!"

"NNNOOOOOOO!" roared Harry as he struggled to hang on to the sphere with only half a grip – but to no avail. The Prophecy leapt from him and sailed through the air towards Lucius's outstretched hand.

And then a great many things occurred in the same brief moments.

Well concealed beyond the crates and beneath Harry's invisibility cloak, Luna, nerves tensed for her strike, instinctively responded to the scream she'd trained so hard for. To Luna's credit, her body lurched out only inches before she curbed the reflex, yet the cap was off the bean can; the basilisk eye, oiled by the snake tears, skidded onto the floor beyond the hem of the invisibility cloak; and the dark eyelid flopped wetly down beside it.

Harry heard the calamity more than saw it – perhaps his ears had filtered out the smooth rhythms of the decoys, and with senses sky-high, he'd heard the disgusting slop as eyeball met stone. But Bellatrix and Voldemort knew it too from Harry's expression of despair. With Lucius triumphantly lofting the Prophecy in his gloved hand, and Bellatrix drawing back a vicious razor-lash curse, Voldemort's wand flicked towards Luna's location where a hand groped blindly for the naked eyeball slowly spinning to a stop in the shiny wet.

Yet even as the first killing syllable was uttered, another green flash changed the scene, and the astonished Lucius died and fell. Voldemort's incantation tailed off with this new, unexpected crisis. A moment before the Prophecy impacted the floor, Voldemort summoned it, grasped it oh-so-briefly in his spidery hand, exulted, then screeched his ultimate terror as toxic death raced through his veins.

Harry groaned his dismay even as he spun around to see Luna's crates exploding under Bella's lash. But reacting to Voldemort's scream of pain, Neville and Ginny's spells hit the dark witch with such ferocity that one side of her face baked and she was flung through Harry's shelves within a maelstrom of glass shards. Neville was still pumping stunners in her direction when Ginny seized and kissed him for being alive.

"Luna! Luna!" Harry picked away huge splinters that lay across the invisible cloak.

A movement signified life, and the girl's smile emerged alongside her wand. "Green sparks!" she cried excitedly. "I saw the eye looking at Mr Malfoy so I painted the sky again, Harry! I painted the sky!"

Harry's blank face drew her explanation:

"I disguised how Mr Malfoy died with green light, of course. That distracted You-know-who for the extra moment I needed to petrify him."

"You got the eye back in the can?"

"No, I just held the dark eyelid over the cornea and pointed; I'm good at pointing. It was still wet with teardrops under its eye scale, you see. I'm so happy we practised feeling the eye's shape. It helped me point it nicely."

Harry suddenly became aware of the fading decoys and that Voldemort's cry of despair had long since stopped short. "You actually...?" He whirled around. "His spirit didn't escape?"

Like a tilted statue, Voldemort lay at a curiously-rigid angle against the shelving. His arms were drawn tight to his chest, and the agony of defeat contorted his face. One tortured hand had snapped his own wand, the other had crushed the Prophecy – still gooey with chocolate on one side – in a death grip. Yet he remained moments from that death – frozen by the basilisk's stare.

"Harry, we've got to move!" Ginny's voice as if far away.

"Yeah... right." Harry stared into Voldemort's eyes for a few more moments then turned.

Neville was examining Bellatrix's heavily-lacerated body which was still steaming from his onslaught. "She's alive, I think, but look at her face! She'll never smirk out that side again – nor even speak; her jaws half-cooked."

"Good – leave her for the Dementors!" said Ginny. "Fudge won't hang about making sure she gets the Kiss."

"Mr Malfoy is dead," Luna said sadly. "We should not have wedged the practice melon so tight in the bean can while we were training – I wasn't prepared for the eye slipping out."

"Wasn't your fault, Luna," said Harry. "It was blind chance, like a deadly version of spin the bottle – except we knew not to look at it. Where's the eye now?"

"Destroyed. I threw it at a crate as it got smashed to bits, and the recoil rolled me over backwards on my bum away from the worst of the blast. The sole of one of my shoes was lost – though your cloak seems indestructible."

"But your soul is safe, Luna – that's what matters." They smiled at each other for long moments with a new understanding.

"Ahem!" smirked Ginny and Neville together.

Harry carefully Scourgified Malfoy's dragon-hide gloves still tacky with lethal chocolate, took the man's wand, cast several stunning spells into the air, then pushed it back into Malfoy's fist. "With luck, they'll think Malfoy killed Bellatrix, not anyone else."

They wrapped Voldemort in Harry's cloak and carried him between them as they headed for the exit. None of them could remember exactly how they walked out, but the timing was perfect.

.

Heroes

MR LUCIUS MALFOY TO POSTHUMOUSLY

RECEIVE ORDER OF MERLIN 1ST CLASS!

Harry stared in disbelief at next morning's headline in the Daily Prophet. He looked up. Luna was smiling at him as she adjusted the burner under one saucepan while another stirred its porridge and slices of toast spread themselves with marmalade.

"It's good isn't it?" she said. "They think Mr Malfoy stopped Bellatrix stealing the Prophecy so she used the killing curse on him then collapsed from her wounds. The basilisk eye leaves no mark on its victims, you see."

"Well, I guess it covers our ar–arms and legs," said Harry.

"And so will Gran," said Neville as he entered the kitchen whistling and still in his pyjamas.

"It's all set then?" said Harry.

"Yep, you come back home with me later today, Harry, and Gran will swear you were with us all the time. Meanwhile–"

"–meanwhile," cried Ginny from the doorway, "I've been here all along with Luna having a quiet holiday playing games in the garden – just as I told Mum." Ginny floated in as if on a cloud and kissed Neville on the cheek in passing.

"What I don't understand," said Neville, "is why you, Harry – I mean you in the future – why didn't you say in your message what was going to happen? I nearly had Kneazles when you screamed and Malfoy got the Prophecy instead of You-know-who."

"I suppose," said Harry, "It had to happen as it had before or else risk a time paradox. I mean, if the eyeball hadn't slipped out then maybe our plan wouldn't have worked – who knows? It's just magic – which reminds me, Nev, how are you this morning? You practically drained all your power into Bella. It says here that she didn't regain consciousness for eighteen hours! Did your magic recover okay last night?"

"Oh yes," smirked Ginny.

Harry rolled his eyes but somehow the image of Ginny's legs round Ringo's butt didn't trouble him anymore. He reached out to pat Luna's hand as she counted out boiled eggs with a slotted spoon. "One eyeball, two eyeballs, three–"

"LUNA!"

They sat down happily together and began their meal.

"So... what did you do with him in the end?" said Neville. "After me and Gin..." He had the grace to reach for the salt to hide his blushes.

"Who?" said Harry, winking sideways at Luna.

"You-know-who!"

"Oh, him. We threw him down the old well and filled it in with elequant dung."

"You did not!" cried Neville.

Harry nodded. "It was the easiest way. It will become rock hard in time and encourage even more vegetation to cover the area."

Luna explained. "There was a small hillock of poo nearby that Mrs Wiggley has deliberately charmed her herd to favour just to spite Daddy."

"But is... is You-know-who conscious down there?" said Neville.

Harry snorted porridge out his nose. "I wish!" He wiped his face and continued. "No, when Hermione was petrified in our second year, she said she remembered nothing until she woke up in the hospital wing with the taste of Mandrake in her mouth!"

"But sooner or later someone might accidentally dig him up," said Neville.

"It'll hardly be soon. It's a zillion to one. This land belongs to the Lovegoods and so eventually to Luna. Nobody's going to dig up a contaminated well when there's already a perfectly good source of water to hand."

"But in a thousand years from now, someone might!"

"Once I'm dead," Harry said, serious all of a sudden, "then if anyone digs him up – and they still have to give him Mandrake Restorative Draught – he'll die instantly from the toxins petrified within him. That is, once Dumbledore has dealt with the other dark magic that would have kept him immortal." He looked meaningfully at Ginny.

"I'll get started on that anonymous letter you asked me to write for the headmaster, today or tomorrow, Harry. I mean, you did say you don't want him to get it for a few months so he won't connect it with your absence."

"That's right. No rush. We'll let him have it next year together with Riddle's broken wand. By then, word should have gotten around that he's vanished again. Once we've convinced Dumbledore that Voldemort is petrified and poisoned then he'll be free to deal with all the dark magic whenever he likes.

"What dark magic?" said Neville.

"Dunno. I think it's like when Voldemort disappeared before when he killed my parents. He was supposed to be dead but he came back last June, didn't he?"

Neville nodded. "So he could have kept doing that?"

"I suppose so."

"But not anymore, Harry," smiled Luna, clasping her hand over his. "It's over."

"That's right, Luna, it's all over."

.

Nine Years Later

"Harry, it's nearly time." Luna pulled her head out of the fireplace and dusted ash off her pinafore as she stood up.

"The umbra's starting to grow?"

Luna nodded.

Harry knelt down and took a look inside the green flames for himself. Low down on his left was a tiny dark bubble in the Floo wall – much bigger than last week. He pulled himself back out of the fireplace and stood up. "And we'll be able to push through today?"

"We need to perform the ritual or we'll miss the opportunity to expand it further. Temporal flaws are so rare there are only two other recorded instances."

"Right, well, I think we're all ready." He glanced at the Aldi carrier bag that stood in the corner of their parlour, then back at his wife. "Oh, Luna, please don't cry."

He took her in his arms and softly stroked her back.

"I can't help it," she sobbed. "He's hurting so much – and he's so alone."

Harry murmured sympathetically.

"And he won't even know me."

"But he will soon after. And he'll be so, so happy..."

"Really?" she said, playing the game. Her eyes still glistened as she composed herself and looked at his expression. "Will I really make Harry Potter happy?"

"I know you will," said Harry, and he kissed her.

After many long moments of tenderness, Harry whispered, "Shall we...?"

She nodded and, casting red Floo powder, they entered the flames.

"Rubrum ignibus," Luna chanted over and over so softly that Harry could only feel the words breathed across his face. Then it was done at last.

"Dad? ... Mum?"

"Harry," said Luna, "we've waited so long for this moment."

.

Eighteen-thousand Years Later

"The chamber is prepared, my Liege. Through here."

"Thank you. Read the scroll if you will, Clarine."

A white-robed woman projected the record centrally above those gathered there, that all might read along with her.

"The invalid was discovered by Brone Cauthe, a Venusian landscaper commissioned to redesign a tiny area of a Yeurothean isle.

"In Yeuroth did you say? On Mother Earth?" enquired the elder. His gown of gold glittered in the suffused glow from a million floating pinpoints.

"Correct, my Liege. Brone has long preserved the terran sectors of Venus."

"Thank you. Continue."

"Two penances enslave the sufferer. One is weak ancient sorcery that binds him so; the other is conflicting material that has destroyed vital organs beyond even our repair."

"How so?"

"A much-reduced soul, my Liege, scarcely human and tenuously misrepresented by grey tissue within the cranium – that is, like all ancients we believe, this person relies on matter to live."

Gasps echoed from the high-domed ceiling.

"And there is nothing to be done for him?"

"Nothing, Sire. To remove the foreign material would be to remove most of which it is bonded – which he requires for survival."

"And so very, very young..."

"Yes, my Liege. We estimate no more than seven decads by Earth reckoning."

A sigh escaped the lips of the revered elder. "Go on."

"The quantcil's proposal is to disperse the witchcraft and gift him a few precious seconds of conscious life. We can do no more."

After a few thoughtful minutes, the elder declared, "Very well, proceed."

There was no particular movement nor incantation. After a moment came an awful cry and the horizontal figure constricted into a foetal scrunch. There was a final babyish whimper, then nothing.

"I detected a weak trace of psi!" said a short, bent figure with silvery hair. "A pathetic attempt to control – anything – where there could be none."

"How sad."

"And another emotion I've never experienced... most curious."

"What was it, Oolin?"

"I believe it was... hatred."

"Then that confirms," began the now-weeping Elder, "the myths and legends concerning the ancients."

"I much prefer to believe," Clarine whispered somewhat timidly, "that even they occasionally... loved."

"We hope so, for theirs is a sad story if not," said Oolin.

"Then let this final chapter end," said the Elder.

.