As Harry described his evolving awareness from recent event and and greater perception of Voldemort's plans, neither Ron nor Hermione said a word, as if there were anything they could - or should - say at this critical juncture. Hermione was captivated, and Ron simply awestruck, as Harry outlined his plans to destroy Voldemort. Ron and Hermione would have gladly laid their lives down for Harry, but now all he needed was for them to be the necessary partners. They had always been there for him, so Harry had complete faith in their abilities.

Harry leaned toward Ron, speaking in a subdued voice, "Ron, there are two things I need you to do. First, go to your dad and tell him to meet us outside 'The Secret Room' at 10 a.m., two mornings hence. He will understand. Second, ask Fred and George to be here this afternoon; 2 p.m. should do the trick. Perhaps they might consider trading their dragon skin jackets for something a bit less flamboyant." Neither could help a small smile thinking of the red-headed twins in bright green dragon leather. "I will see you next in two days." A brief look of disappointment swept across Ron's face, but he pushed himself up from the cushioned depths of his armchair and with a crisp "Right!" Harry reached out and shook Ron's hand, making sure to look him straight in the eyes and give him every bit of reassurance that he could. Ron spun on the balls of his feet and left the commons room. Harry was glad to see that the handshake had created a renewed feeling of importance in Ron, judging by the crisp manner in which he left.

By the time Hermione's head had turned back from the image of Ron's exit past the Fat Lady, Harry had pulled his chair closer to her, their knees side-by-side. He once again leaned forward and, although he began to talk in hushed tones, he was placing great trust in his beloved Gryffindor by even speaking at all.

As Harry outlined more of his plans and Hermione's pivotal role in them, he could see the flames reflected in her spellbound eyes. Students in the room, stealing furtive glances, saw the silhouettes of Harry and Hermione outlined with a soft orange glow while the daydreamers in the room who let their thoughts and eyes roam were rewarded with images of two shadows nose-to-nose flitting back and forth on the stone wall. When Harry was done, Hermione looked deep into Harry's eyes, their spirits touched knowingly and warmly, and she immediately left for the kitchens, via her room.

"Dobby!" called Harry, speaking to the air. Instantly, the bony, seemingly misshapen house-elf appeared, dressed in a conglomeration of purples and reds, plaids and stripes, that would do a Muggle-imitating wizard proud. "Dobby," Harry said gently, "please inform Winky and the other house-elves that you will be accompanying me to the Department of Mysteries in three days. Please, go and do it now." Before Harry could blink, Dobby was gone.

Recent events had provided Hermione with experiences and emotions she could never have conceived, but now those were replaced with the greatest sense of purpose she had ever known. She had always worked hard to help Harry and had even used a smidgen of mischievous magic to help Ron at Quidditch tryouts, but now she was on a mission at Harry's request. Very simply, nothing else mattered, and she proceeded with focus and intensity beyond any she had exhibited before.

Her first job was simple: to go get one of her infamous knitted hats, black this time, and meet Harry at the Room of Requirement. She grabbed the last remaining black cap from the S.P.E.W. box under her bed and rendezvoused with Harry in the seventh-floor hallway. He magically opened the door and quickly went inside, Hermione on his heels at almost a trot. As soon as she was inside, though, Hermione's canter came to a complete halt, her feet frozen to the floor.

Completely stunned, Hermione's jaw dropped open as she looked down at Kreacher. Harry took the black knit hat from Hermione, handed it to the house-elf, and said with a great sense of urgency, "Now, hurry - you have little time. Be careful and be quick!" At that, the house-elf was gone. Harry turned to Hermione and said, simply, "Polyjuice Potion."

It took a few moments for Hermione's head to clear as Harry's simple pronouncement sank in. She wasn't aware of every plan but quickly realized that Harry was setting all the wheels in motion, and she must get on to her next project. With that, she turned and headed straight for the library. There would be no more distractions now.

Two mornings hence, Ron and Hermione went to the Great Hall while Harry went to meet Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt - Harry's escorts - by the front gate. Harry and Moody gave each other a respectful nod then all walked together into Hogwarts. Going to the fireplace in the Great Hall, they all used Floo Powder to transport themselves by means of the Floo Network to the Ministry's Atrium - Moody and Tonks first, Shacklebolt taking up the rear. There they met up with Remus Lupin, Charlie Weasley, the Weasley Twins and three other Aurors, all of whom waited by the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

Harry took the time to greet each person eye-to-eye, a sign of his growing leadership. With that, he spun on his heels and strode down the corridor towards the elevators, everyone else following in pairs behind him. The group took the elevators down one level and exited onto Nine. Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged first and led the group down the hall toward the Department of Mysteries; Harry now walking in the middle. To this point everything had been prearranged, and all concerned were going to do their best to ensure it stayed that way for as long as possible. Only Harry, though, knew every plan that was now in place.

Shacklebolt opened the door, and everyone entered with wands drawn. According to plan or not, taking every precaution would now be the paramount issue. One of the Aurors remained on guard inside the door as he locked the entrance behind him - no one was to have any inkling anyone was in there. Another of the Aurors froze the Rotating Room in place then remained on station as the third Auror led the way through the correct door to the hallway beyond. Emerging into the small area between the door and the Time Room, Harry saw Mr. Weasley to his right, standing as asked outside the Secret Room. Harry nodded and turned left, Fred and George by his shoulders.

Harry had gone over this moment many times in his head, but nothing prepared his heart for what he saw. There, at the bottom of the room surrounded by all the benches, was the Veil of Death. Harry's heart ached at all the memories the scene evoked, but for all that he remembered, one stood out - the memory that was his eternal nightmare.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Harry tried his best to put the pain aside. Only marginally successful, he opened his eyes and walked down to the centre, followed by the twins. Moody, Tonks and Lupin spread out, while Shacklebolt, Ron and Hermione just watched from above. Charlie stood by his father.

Down by the Veil of Death, Hermione could see Harry talking intently to the twins as his hands moved about, creating images and exclamation points to highlight his words and ideas. At one point Harry made Fred and George move about as if to completely memorize each aspect of the room. Minutes later, after the twins had walked to the top of the room by the Hall of Prophecies, Fred and George descended back down and talked to Harry some more, looking unusually intent for them. After a few nods and handshakes, Fred and George walked back up and immediately left the Department of Mysteries.

Left alone, Harry turned to the Veil of Death, running his hand slowly along its side. Harry knew that this might be his one final chance - perhaps forever - to reflect on Sirius. Beyond the Veil Sirius floated with many other beings, all bereft of their souls. Dispossessed by the Veil, left to wander the ether for eternity, Harry was sure death would be preferable to their fate. He placed his forehead against the Veil's frame and tried to send a message of love out through the disconsolation that racked his body. As Harry turned and slowly, dejectedly made his way up the benches to Hermione, a single tear wound its way down Harry's cheek. Harry's tear was not the only one in the room.

Not even Ron raised an eyebrow when seeing Hermione's hand slip into Harry's. Battles have always engendered deep bonds and camaraderie, and Hermione and Ron both had been the ultimate troopers by Harry's side. None of them would have had it any other way. However, both Harry and Hermione knew it was much more than that now. Hermione had helped protect Harry on many occasions and may even have directly saved his life. But now, Harry's life was literally in Hermione's hands, and the significance was not lost on either of them.

Hermione's entire life of intense academia had helped prepare her for what was about to occur, but the last twenty-four hours of virtually living in the library - researching, practicing, hoping - was the figurative cramming before the final exam. This final exam, however, would encompass Harry's life and the future of the world.

As the door swung closed behind them, a soft light illuminated the room from below. Hermione sucked in her breath and threw her shoulders back in formal deference to the moment, much as she had carried herself with a stiff, haughty air the first time she met Harry and Ron on the Hogwarts Express. Except now any trace of that once-young hint of arrogance was replaced by the tiny adult chill that accompanies the prospect of failure. Harry's already-heavy heart sank even lower as his skin crawled. Here in front him was the room his mother had spoken of - whose words Harry had read, whose descriptions he had translated into visions, yet no amount of imagination could adequately prepare Harry for the reality of the Secret Room. It was not that the room had any particular grandeur to it; it was simply that Harry was now actually here, practically inside one of his mother's most intimate and important memories. . . here because of that memory. It was the reality of this situation that gnawed at both Harry and Hermione - each of their minds and hearts dealing with completely different issues yet, in the end, knowing those issues and paths would join.

No hesitation, no amount of time, no prodding of the winds on which the magical ancestral brethren that occupied Hogwarts and the rest of the world seemed to float like gossamer, could change the nexus that was this room. Accepting that, Harry released Hermione's hand and stepped into the middle of the room, standing evenly within the three black columns upon which rested the "Prismata Vita" - "The Prisms of Life."

Harry knew what the next few minutes might bring, so he had sent every message, trained every person and created every situation from which each part of the plan would be set in motion. He made sure everyone on the 'good side' was prepared for what the next day would bring. Whether Harry was there or not, the final battle would occur. Nothing could stop that now.

Hermione continued to fulfill her critical role even as Harry stepped within the "Prismata Vita". She lifted her hand and opened it, palm upward, to expose the empty Prophecy Sphere that Mr. Weasley had handed her earlier. Hermione lifted her wand and, in a quiet voice reflective of Harry's earlier timbre, softly intoned, "Leviosa." The sphere rose from her hand, suspended in mid-air, protected by her simple charm. There it would await its solemn duty.

That task done, Hermione turned and faced Harry with the same determination that Harry had shown by resolutely entering the "Prismata Vita". Harry had stepped into the future, and Hermione must follow. Without thinking, without giving herself a chance to debate the dozens of reasons she could probably think of not to follow Harry's instructions, Hermione aimed her wand with the swift decisiveness of an Auror and pronounced, "Prismata Horcrux!"

Instantly, each prism took on the same pearly luster that Lily had described in her journal. The lavender light that grew within emanated toward the centre of the triumvirate - the exact spot where Harry knew to place himself. In seconds Harry was completely enveloped in a light purple chrysalis, no longer visible to Hermione through the brightness. Feeling terrible isolation, her eyes watched with anxiety, her breath stood at a standstill and her heart felt practically rended from her chest, yet almost before she knew it, a small red light floated out toward the periphery of the bright lavender corona that surrounded Harry.

Fully prepared, Hermione forced air into her lungs then, with great urgency and complete desperation, practically screamed, "Preservus Orbus Horcrux!" A tight yellow beam shot from Hermione's wand and attached itself to the lavender-encapsulated Horcrux. Holding her breath once again, Hermione guided the small glowing globe to the suspended glass sphere that she had levitated earlier. Thankfully, the charm took effect, and the red ball of light slipped into the glass, now preserved as many prophesies were, within the silica orb.

Shaking uncontrollably, Hermione practically collapsed forward from the tension that racked her body. She paused to catch her breath and regain some amount of composure then told herself she must now face the truth. Terrified, she forced herself to stand upright and turn toward the centre of the room. There, as he had minutes earlier, stood Harry. Hermione rushed to him, threw her arms around his neck and sobbed unabashedly onto his shoulder. It was the most terrible ordeal of Hermione's young life, and no number of 'Right thens' from Harry was going to mollify her. Harry waited patiently as it took a solid half-hour before the adrenaline wore off, and Hermione could function. She had earned every minute of that time.

Ready for the next step, Harry carefully plucked the glowing red sphere out of the air and purposefully slipped it into the deep, inside pocket of his robe, opposite the one in which he kept his wand. Once again he took Hermione's hand and led her out of the Secret Room. Outside the door, within the Veil of Death's own chamber, Harry found all in readiness.

Moody had seen to it that the Aurors had completed their assigned tasks: the twins had returned to prepare their own special roles, and Hermione had now done her major part. Without so much as a word of prompting, Charlie escorted Ron, who, not wanting to leave Harry's side again, was quite reluctant to go into the Secret Room. Hermione followed, and a few minutes later the three emerged, each carrying a long leather-wrapped package. Charlie led the way toward the exit to the Department of Mysteries but not before both Ron and Hermione looked back at Harry one final time.

It was shortly after the witching hour when Harry heard the first sounds of battle coming from the outer rooms. Harry felt the same grim satisfaction that all generals throughout history have known: your plan was working, but you could only minimize the rueful deaths of the brave soldiers. The Aurors on duty in the outer hall were surely outnumbered and would just as surely fall, but Harry was bolstered by the knowledge that sending Dobby as Kreatcher to Knockturn Alley had worked. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had arrived early in anticipation of Harry's arrival the coming afternoon finding, instead, the trap laid for them.

Those who remained with Harry moved to their designated positions: Moody, Shacklebolt, Lupin, the third Auror and Fred faced the door of the Rotating Room; Mr. Weasley and Tonks donned invisibility cloaks on opposite sides of the room, high above but even with the Veil of Death; and Harry moved back down the benches and stood alongside the Veil. Every step, every movement on Harry's part, was taken with the steady assurance that comes with correct foresight. Harry's insides told another story, however, as his racing heart and rapid, shallow breathing belied his outward calm. It took a great force of will for him to keep the inner turmoil and his outer countenance separate.

Just a short time later, the door from the Rotating Room burst open and four Death Eaters entered: Electra, Bellatrix Lestrange, Snape and one whom Harry did not recognize. Dobby and the Gryffindor house-elves had established a perimeter around the Ministry, with instructions to seemingly 'allow' only Electra and four others through. Upon seeing the Death Eaters stride through the door, Harry could only assume that the house-elves had done their job, and one other Death Eater had fallen to the Aurors in the outer hall.

As the fourth Death Eater stepped from the Rotating Room, the door behind them slammed shut, sealing the room. As if at a prearranged signal, the closing of the door precipitated an immediate and all-out escalation of hostilities. The final battle had begun.

Bodies moved around the room, ducking and jumping as needed to avoid the spells being fired in every direction. During the battle for the Prophecy, the air was filled with beams of every colour imaginable as curses and jinxes of all types were being shot from the wands. Now the air glowed with an eerie green that meant only one thing - this battle was to the death.

Harry stayed put in his position alongside the Veil while Mr. Weasley and Tonks maintained their positions. Most everyone else on Harry's side was fighting for one reason and one reason only - to kill time. It was Harry and his team who were the key to this portion of the final fight. As the battle continued, Harry found himself ducking the occasional errant curse. He undoubtedly was the true target of the Death Eaters, but they were under too much duress to focus on Harry at the moment. They thought they were merely trying to survive.

All the while Harry kept a keen eye on Electra as she battled furiously. He had guessed that she liked to observe from above as was her want in Bulgaria. At some point Harry had hoped Electra would follow that pattern to observe and plan her next sortie amidst the ongoing battle. As she fought, and as she moved, Harry's left hand kept his DA Galleon firmly in his grip. Mr. Weasley and Tonks did likewise. Indeed, Electra did tend to move about in the battle from the highest points possible, but each time she shifted, it was never quite to the position in which Harry needed her. Finally, Electra moved high and perpendicular to the face of the Veil of Death. Harry immediately sent a signal to Mr. Weasley and Tonks who threw off their cloaks and, with wands aimed directly at Electra, both forcefully yelled, "Petrificus Totalis!"

Electra froze on the spot, petrified by the double jinx. Quickly and according to plan, Tonks and Mr. Weasley both silently said 'Leviosa.' Electra rose into the air then was guided down toward the Veil of Death. Mr. Weasley and Tonks deposited her stiff body upright and in front of the Veil.

In the ultimate battle between good and evil, fairness and limits have no place. Evil would not care what method it used, as long as it won. Good, on the other hand, might care greatly about the methods it employed, but the wise among them would look at the long term and realize it must win. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by losing. Harry had suffered too much loss, and had matured all too quickly, to give evil any quarter whatsoever. As soon as Electra was in place, he spun out in front of her, raised his wand, and shouted, "Percussus!"

A thunderous shock wave, projected out from the tip of Harry's wand, slammed into Electra's chest and sent her body careening through the Veil of Death. As countless soulless creatures looked on with detached curiosity, her soul was ripped from her body. More importantly to all the living souls who existed back beyond the Veil, they saw the Horcrux similarly ripped out of the Ravenclaw necklace. The Veil had done its insidious work.

There were now only two portions of Voldemort's soul remaining. Behind Harry, from high in the room, he heard a screeching hiss that could only reflect the pain, dismay and rage of one person: Lord Voldemort himself.