Johnny fell, panting, onto grass and scrambled up at once. They seemed to have landed in the corner of a field at dusk; Hermione was already running in a circle around them, waving her wand.

"Protego Totalum... Salvio Hexia..."

"That treacherous old bleeder," Ron panted, emerging from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it to Harry. "Hermione you're a genius, a total genius. I can't believe we got out of that."

"Cave Inimicum... Didn't I say it was a Frumpent horn, didn't I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!"

"Serves him right," said Harry, examining his torn jeans and the cuts to his legs, "What'd you reckon they'll do to him?"

"Oh I hope they don't kill him!" groaned Hermione, "That's why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry or Johnny before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn't been lying!"

"Why hide me though?" asked Ron.

"You're supposed to be in bed with spattergrolt, Ron! They've kidnapped Luna because her father supported Harry and Johnny! What would happen to your family if they knew you're with him?"

"But what about your mum and dad?" asked Ron.

"They're in Australia," said Hermione, "They should be all right. They don't know anything."

"You're a genius, Hermione," Johnny said, standing up and kissing her forehead. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

She beamed, but became solemn at once.

"What about Luna?"

"Well, if they're telling the truth and she's still alive-" began Ron.

"Don't say that, don't say it!" squealed Hermione. "She must be alive, she must!"

"Then she'll be in Azkaban, I expect," said Johnny. "Whether she survives the place, though... Loads don't... I saw twelve bodies coming out in my time there..."

"She will," said Harry. "She's tough, Luna, much tougher than you'd think. She's probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles."

"I hope you're right," said Hermione. She passed a hand over her eyes. "I'd feel so sorry for Xenophilius if-"

"-if he hadn't just tried to sell us to the Death Eaters, yeah," said Ron.

They put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Ron made them tea. After their narrow escape, the chilly, musty old place felt like home: safe, familiar, and friendly.

"Oh, why did we go there?" groaned Hermione after a few minutes' silence. "Harry, you were right, it was Godric's Hollow all over again, a complete waste of time! The Deathly Hallows... such rubbish... although actually," a sudden thought seemed to have struck her, "he might have made it all up, mightn't he? He probably doesn't believe in the Deathly Hallows at all, he just wanted to keep us talking until the Death Eaters arrived!"

"I don't think so," said Ron. "It's a damn sight harder making stuff up when you're under stress than you'd think. I found that out when the Snatchers caught me. It was much easier pretending to be Stan, because I knew a bit about him, than inventing a whole new person. Old Lovegood was under loads of pressure, trying to make sure we stayed put. I reckon he told us the truth, or what he thinks is the truth, just to keep us talking."

"Well, I don't suppose it matters," sighed Hermione. "Even if he was being honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life."

"Hang on, though," said Johnny. "The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a myth, wasn't it?"

"But the Deathly Hallows can't exist, Johnny!"

"You keep saying that, but one of them can," said Johnny. "Harry's Invisibility Cloak-"

"The Tale of the Three Brothers' is a story," said Hermione firmly. "A story about how humans are frightened of death. If surviving was as simple as hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, we'd have everything we need already!"

"I don't know. We could do with an unbeatable wand," said Johnny, turning the blackthorn wand he so disliked over in his fingers.

"There's no such thing, Johnny!"

"You said there have been loads of wands- the Deathstick and whatever they were called-"

"All right, even if you want to kid yourself the Elder Wand's real, what about the Resurrection Stone?" Her fingers sketched quotation marks around the name, and her tone dripped sarcasm. "No magic can raise the dead, and that's that!"

"When Harry's wand connected with You-Know-Who's, it made my Aunt and Uncle appear... and Cedric..."

"But they weren't really back from the dead, were they?" said Hermione. "Those kind of- of pale imitations aren't the same as truly bringing someone back to life."

"But she, the girl in the tale, didn't really come back, did she? The story says that once people are dead, they belong with the dead. But the second brother still got to see her and talk to her, didn't he? He even lived with her for a while..."

"So that Peverell bloke who's buried in Godric's Hollow," Harry said hastily, trying to sound robustly sane, "you don't know anything about him, then?"

"No," she replied, looking relieved at the change of subject. "I looked him up after I saw the mark on his grave; if he'd been anyone famous or done anything important, I'm sure he'd be in one of our books. The only place I've managed to find the name 'Peverell' Is Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. I borrowed it from Kreacher," she explained as Ron raised his eyebrows. "It lists the Pureblood families that are now extinct in the male line. Apparently the Peverells were one of the earliest families to vanish."

"Extinct in the male line?" repeated Ron.

"It means the name died out," said Hermione, "centuries ago, in the case of the Peverells. They could still have descendents, though, they'd just be called something different."

"Marvolo Gaunt!" Harry cried out.

"Sorry" said Johnny, Ron and Hermione together.

"Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who's grandfather! In the Pensieve! With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!"

"Holy shit..." said Johnny, realisation in his face. "The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! Harry and I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry's face, he nearly shoved it up his nose!"

"The Peverell coat of arms?" said Hermione sharply. "Could you see what it looked like?"

"Not really," said Johnny, trying to remember. "There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see; maybe a few scratches. We only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open."

Johnny saw Hermione's comprehension in the sudden widening of her eyes. Ron was looking from one to the other, astonished.

"Blimey... You reckon it was this sign again? The sign of the Hallows?"

"Why not?" said Harry excitedly, "Marvolo Gaunt was an ignorant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust us, he wasn't the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He'd have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned, having Pureblood made you practically royal."

"Yes... and that's all very interesting," said Hermione cautiously, "but boys, if you're thinking what I think you're think-"

"Well, why not? Why not?" said Harry, abandoning caution. "It was a stone, wasn't it?" He looked at Ron for support. "What if it was the Resurrection Stone?"

Ron's mouth fell open.

"Blimey- but would it still work if Dumbledore broke-?"

"Work? Work? Ron, it never worked! There's no such thing as a Resurrection Stone!"

Hermione leapt to her feet, looking exasperated and angry. "Guys, you're trying to fit everything into the Hallows story-"

"Fit everything in?" Johnny repeated. "Hermione, it fits of its own accord! We know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone! Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!"

"A minute ago you told us you and Harry never saw the mark on the stone properly!"

"Where'd you reckon the ring is now?" Ron asked them. "What did Dumbledore do with it after he broke it open?"

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor Master of Death... Master... Conqueror...Vanquisher... The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death...

And Johnny saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match... Was this the answer? Hallows versus Horcruxes? Was there a way after all, to ensure that he or Harry was the one who triumphed? If they were the master of the Deathly Hallows, would he be safe?

"Johnny?" Harry said.

And then, with a gasp, Johnny remembered-

"Dumbledore had Harry's Cloak the night Harry's parents died!" Johnny's voice shook and he could feel the colour in his face, but he didn't care.

Harry was walking blindly around the tent, feeling as though great new vistas of truth were opening all around him. "He's my ancestor. I'm descended from the third brother! It all makes sense! He felt armed in certainty, in his belief in the Hallows, as if the mere idea of possessing them was giving him protection," and he felt joyous as he turned back to the other three.

"Boys," said Hermione again, but Harry was busy undoing the pouch around his neck, his fingers shaking hard.

"Read it," Harry told her, pushing his mother's letter into her hand. "Read it! Dumbledore had the Cloak, Hermione! Why else would he want it? He didn't need a Cloak, he could perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible without one!"

Something fell to the floor and rolled, glittering, under a chair: Harry had dislodged the Snitch when he pulled out the letter. He stooped to pick it up.

"IT'S IN HERE! He left me the ring - it's in the Snitch!" Harry yelled.

"You- you reckon?" Johnny asked.

"That's what he's after."

The change in his voice made Johnny, Ron and Hermione look even more nervous.

"You-Know-Who's after the Elder Wand," said Johnny quietly.

Johnny walked to the entrance of the tent, forgetting about Harry, Ron and Hermione as he looked out into the night, thinking...

Voldemort had been raised in a Muggle orphanage. Nobody could have told him The Tales of Beedle the Bard when he was a child, anymore than Harry or Johnny had heard them. Hardly any wizards believed in the Deathly Hallows. Was it likely that Voldemort knew about them?

Johnny gazed into the darkness... If Voldemort had known about the Deathly Hallows, surely he would have sought them, done anything to possess them: three objects that made the possessor Master of Death? If he had known about the Deathly Hallows, he might not  have needed Horcruxes in the first place. Didn't the simple fact that he had taken a Hallow, and turned it into a Horcrux, demonstrate that he didn't know this last great Wizarding secret?

Which meant that Voldemort sought the Elder Wand without realising its full power, without understanding that it was one of three... for the wand was the Hallow that couldn't be hidden, whose existence was best known... The bloody trail of the Elder Wand is splattered across the pages of Wizarding history...

Johnny watched the cloudy sky, curves of smoke-gray and silver sliding over the face of the white moon. He felt lightheaded with amazement at the discoveries.

He turned back into the tent. It was a shock to see Harry, Ron and Hermione standing exactly where he had left them, Hermione still holding Lily's letter, Ron at her side looking slightly anxious, Harry gazing at Johnny expectantly.

"This is it?" Harry said, trying to bring them inside the glow of his and Johnny's own astonished certainty, "This explains everything. The Deathly Hallows are real and I've got one- maybe two-"

He held up the Snitch.

"-and You-Know-Who's chasing the third, but he doesn't realise... he just thinks it's a powerful wand-"

"Boys," said Hermione, moving across to Harry and handing him back Lily's letter, "I'm sorry, but I think you've got this wrong, all wrong."

"But don't you see? It all fits-"

"Not, it doesn't," she said. "It doesn't. Boys, you're just getting carried away. Please," she said as she started to speak, "please just answer me this: If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dumbledore knew about them, knew that the person who possessed all of them would be master of Death- Boys, why wouldn't he have told you? Why?"

Johnny had his answer ready.

"But you said it, Hermione! You've got to find out about them for yourself! It's a Quest!"

"But I only said that to try and persuade you to come to the Lovegoods'!" cried Hermione in exasperation. "I didn't really believe it!"

Johnny took no notice of her for the first time.

"Dumbledore usually let Harry and I find out stuff for ourselves. He let us try our strengths, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he'd do."

"Johnny, this isn't a game, this isn't practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you and Harry very clear instructions: Find and destroy the Horcruxes! That symbol doesn't mean anything, forget the Deathly Hallows, we can't afford to get sidetracked-"

She appealed to Ron.

"You don't believe in this, do you?"

Harry and Johnny looked up, Ron hesitated.

"I dunno... I mean... bits of it sort of fit together," said Ron awkwardly, "But when you look at the whole thing..." He took a deep breath. "I think we're supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, guys. That's what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe... maybe we should forget about this Hallows business."

"Thank you, Ron," said Hermione. "I'll take first watch."

And she strode past Harry and Johnny and sat down in the tent entrance bringing the action to a fierce full stop.

Johnny struggled to sleep that night. It was nearly dawn when he remembered Luna, alone in a cell in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors, and he suddenly felt ashamed. If only they could rescue her, but dementors in those numbers would be virtually unassailable. Now he came to think about it, he hadn't tried casting a Patronus with the blackthorn wand... He must try that in the morning...

And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, invincible, swallowed him once more...

They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Johnny found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione's flat disbelief nor Ron's persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him.

"Obsession?" said Hermione in a low fierce voice, when Harry was careless enough to use the word one evening, after Hermione had told him off for his lack of interest in locating more Horcruxes. "We're not the one with an obsession, Johnny! We're the ones trying to do what Dumbledore wanted us to do!"

"'The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,'" Johnny quoted calmly.

"I thought it was You-Know-Who we were supposed to be fighting?" Hermione retorted.

As the weeks crept on, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other three into action.

"Three Horcruxes left," he kept saying. "We need a plan of action, come on! Where haven't we looked? Let's go through it again. The orphanage..."

Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania, every place that they knew Tom Riddle had ever lived or worked, visited or murdered, Harry, Ron and Hermione raked over them again, Johnny joining in only to stop Hermione pestering him. He would have been happy to sit alone in silence, trying to find out more about the Elder Wand, but Ron insisted on journeying to ever more unlikely places simply to keep them moving.

"You never know," was Ron's constant refrain. "Upper Flagley is a Wizarding village, he might've wanted to live there. Let's go and have a poke around."

These frequent forays into Wizarding territory brought them within occasional sight of Snatchers.

"Some of them are supposed to be as bad as Death Eaters," said Ron. "The lot that got me were a bit pathetic, but Bill recons some of them are really dangerous. They said on Potterwatch-"

"On what?" said Harry.

"Potterwatch, didn't I tell you that's what it was called? The program I keep trying to get on the radio, the only one that tells the truth about what's going on! Nearly all of the programs are following You-Know-Who's line, all except Potterwatch, I really want you to hear it, but it's tricky tuning in..."

Ron spent evening after evening using his wand to beat out various rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled. Occasionally they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragonpox, and once a few bars of "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love." While he taped, Ron continued to try to hit on the correct password, muttering strings of random words under his breath.

"They're normally something to do with the Order," he told them. "Bill had a real knack for guessing them. I'm bound to get one in the end..."

But not until March did luck favor Ron at last. Johnny was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent. "I've got it, I've got it! Password was 'Albus'! Get in here, Johnny."

Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation of the Deathly Hallows, Johnny hurried back inside the tent to find Harry, Ron and Hermione kneeling on the floor beside the little radio. Hermione, who had been polishing the sword of Gryffindor just for something to do, was sitting open-mouthed, staring at the tiny speaker, from which a most familiar voice was issuing.

"...apologise for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters."

"But that's Lee Jordan!" said Hermione.

"I know!" beamed Ron. "Cool, eh?"

"...now found ourselves another secure location," Lee was saying, "and I'm pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys!"

"Hi."

"Evening, River."

"'River' that's Lee," Ron explained. "They've all got code names, but you can usually tell ¨C"

"Shh!" said Hermione.

"But before we hear from Royal and Romulus," Lee went on, "let's take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and Daily Prophet don't think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell."

Johnny felt a sick, swooping in his belly. He, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gazed at one another in horror.

"A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news."

"Meanwhile, in Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing their deaths to a gas leak, but members of the Order of the Phoenix inform me that it was the Killing Curse- more evidence, as if it were needed, of the fact that Muggle slaughter is becoming little more than a recreational sport under the new regime."

"Finally, we regret to inform our listeners that the remains of Bathilda Bagshot have been discovered in Godric's Hollow. The evidence is that she died several months ago. The Order of the Phoenix informs us that her body showed unmistakable signs of injuries inflicted by Dark Magic."

"Listeners, I'd like to invite you now to join us in a minute's silence in memory of Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell, Bathilda Bagshot, Gornuk, and the unnamed, but no less regretted, Muggles murdered by the Death Eaters."

Silence fell, and Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't speak. Half of Johnny yearned to hear more, half of him was afraid of what might come next. It was the first time he had felt fully connected to the outside world for a long time.

"Thank you," said Lee's voice. "And now we can return to regular contributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world."

"Thanks, River," said an unmistakable voice, deep, measured, reassuring.

"Mum!" burst out Johnny.

"We know!" said Hermione, hushing him.

"Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties," said Evelyn. "However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles' knowledge. I'd like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken."

"And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be 'Wizards first'?" asked Lee.

"I'd say that it's one short step from 'Wizards first' to 'Purebloods first,' and then to 'Death Eaters,'" replied Evelyn. "We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."

"Excellently put, Royal, and you've got my vote for Minister of Magic if we ever get out of this mess," said Lee. "And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature 'Pals of Potter and Grindlewald.'"

"Thanks, River," said another very familiar voice. Ron started to speak, but Hermione forestalled him in a whisper.

"We know it's Lupin!"

"Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you've appeared on our program, that Harry Potter and Johnathan Grindlewald are still alive?"

"I do," said Lupin firmly. "There is no doubt at all in my mind that their deaths would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. 'The Boy's Who Give Hope' remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting."

"And what would you say to them if you knew they was listening, Romulus?"

"I'd tell them we're all with them in spirit," said Lupin, then hesitated slightly, "And I'd tell them to follow their instincts, which are good and nearly always right."

Johnny looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears.

"Nearly always right," she repeated. They grinned at each other, and he moved closer to her, wrapping is arm around her shoulders and kissing Hermione's forehead.

"...and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter's  and Johnathan Grindlewald who are suffering for their allegiance?" Lee was saying.

"Well, as regular listeners will know, several of the more outspoken supporters of the boys have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler," said Lupin.

"At least he's still alive!" muttered Ron.

"We have also heard within the last few hours that Rubeus Hagrid-" all four of them gasped, and so nearly missed the rest of the sentence, "-well-known gamekeeper at Hogwarts School, has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumored to have hosted a 'Support Potter and Grindlewald' party in his house. However, Hagrid was not taken into custody, and is, we believe, on the run."

"I suppose it helps, when escaping from Death Eaters, if you've got a sixteen-foot-high half brother?" asked Lee.

"It would tend to give you an edge," agreed Lupin gravely. "May I just add that while we here at Potterwatch applaud Hagrid's spirit, we would urge even the most devoted of the boys supporters against following Hagrid's lead. 'Support Potter and Grindlewald' parties are unwise in the present climate."

"Indeed they are, Romulus," said Lee, "so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the men by listening to Potterwatch! And now let's move to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter . We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating about him, I'd like to introduce a new correspondent. Rodent?"

"'Rodent'?" said yet another familiar voice, and Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione cried out together:

"Fred!"

"No- is it George?"

"It's Fred, I think," said Ron, leaning in closer, as whichever twin it was said, "I'm not being 'Rodent,' no way, I told you I wanted to be 'Rapier'!"

"Oh, all right then, 'Rapier,' could you please give us your take on the various stories we've been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?"

"Yes, River, I can," said Fred. "As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place."

"Which suits him, of course," said Evelyn. "The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself."

"Agreed," said Fred. "So, people, let's try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill people with a single glance from his eyes. That's a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."

For the first time in weeks and weeks, Johnny was laughing: He could feel the weight of tension leaving him.

"And the rumors that he keeps being sighted abroad?" asked Lee.

"Well, who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he's been putting in?" asked Fred. "Point is, people, don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don't count on him being a long way away if you're planning to take any risks. I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first!"

"Thank you very much for those wise words, Rapier," said Lee. "Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be 'Mad-Eye.' Keep each other safe: Keep faith. Good night."

The radio's dial twirled and the lights behind the tuning panel went out. Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still beaming. Hearing familiar, friendly voices was an extraordinary tonic; Johnny had become so used to their isolation he had nearly forgotten that other people were resisting Voldemort. It was like waking from a long sleep.

"Good, eh?" said Ron happily.

"Brilliant," said Harry.

"It's so brave of them," sighed Hermione admiringly. "If they were found ..."

"Well, they keep on the move, don't they?" said Johnny, standing up and stretching his legs. "Like us. But did you hear what Fred said?" asked Johnny excitedly. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, we knew it!"

"Johnny- "

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol-"

"JOHNNY, NO!"

"-demort's after the Elder Wand!"

"The name's Taboo!" Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. "I told you, Johnny, I told you, we can't say it anymore- we've got to put the protection back around us - quickly- it's how they find-"

But Johnny stopped talking, and they knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. Ron pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicked it: Their lamps went out.

"Come out of there with your hands up!" came a rasping voice through the darkness. "We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

Johnny looked around at the other three, now mere outlines in the darkness. He saw Hermione point her wand, set toward the outside, but into his face; there was a bang, a burst of white light, and he buckled in agony, unable to see. He could feel his face swelling rapidly under his hands as heavy footfalls surrounded him.

"Get up, vermin."

Unknown hands dragged Johnny roughly off the ground, before he could stop them, someone had rummaged through his pockets and removed the blackthorn wand. Johnny clutched at his excruciatingly painful face, which felt unrecognisable beneath his fingers, tight, swollen, and puffy as though he had suffered some violent allergic reaction. His eyes had been reduced to slits through which he could barely see; all he could make out were the blurred shapes of four or five people wrestling Harry, Ron and Hermione outside too.

"Get- off- her! She's pregnant!" Ron shouted. There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh: Ron grunted in pain and Hermione screamed.

"You, redhead, your going to have worse than that done to you if your on my list," said the horribly familiar, rasping voice. "Delicious girl... what a treat... I do enjoy the softness of the skin..." then a gasp of realisation came from him. "Your Johnathan Grindelwald's girlfriend, Jakob wants you, shame."

Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who was permitted to wear Death Eater robes in return for his hired savagery.

"Search the tent!" said another voice.

Johnny was thrown face down onto the ground. A two other thuds told him that Ron and Harry had been cast down beside him. They could hear footsteps and crashes; the men were pushing over chairs inside the tent as they searched.

"Now, let's see who we've got," said Greyback's gloating voice from overhead, and Johnny was rolled over onto his back. A beam of wand light fell onto his face and Greyback laughed.

"I'll be needing butterbeer to wash this one down. What happened to you and your twin, ugly?"

Johnny didn't answer immediately.

"I said," repeated Greyback, and Johnny received a blow to the diaphragm that made him double over in pain. "what happened to you?"

"Stung," Harry muttered for them. "Been Stung."

"Yeah, looks like it." said a second voice.

"What's your name?" snarled Greyback.

"Dudley." said Harry.

"And your first name?"

"I- Vernon. Vernon Dudley."

"What about you?" He asked Johnny.

"Viktor Dudley."

"Check the list, Scabior." said Greyback, and Johnny heard of him move sideways to look down at Ron, instead. "And what about you, ginger?"

"Stan Shunpike," said Ron.

"Like 'ell you are." said the man called Scabior. "We know Stan Shunpike, 'e's put a bit of work our way."

There was another thud.

"I'b Bardy," said Ron, and Johnny could tell that his mouth was full of blood. "Bardy Weasley."

"A Weasley?" rasped Greyback. "So you're related to blood traitors even if you're not a Mudblood. And lastly, your pretty little pregnant friend is Hermione Granger, shame Jakob wants her..." The relish in his voice made Johnny's flesh crawl.

"The three boys look like they could still be 'ogwarts age-" said Scabior.

"We'b lebt," said Ron.

"Left, 'ave you, ginger?" said Scabior. "And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you'd use the Dark Lords name?"

"Nod a laugh," said Ron. "Aggiden."

"Accident?" There was more jeering laughter.

"You know who used to like using the Dark Lord's name, Weasley?" growled Greyback, "The Order of the Phoenix. Mean anything to you?"

"Doh."

"Well, they don't show the Dark Lord proper respect, so the name's been Tabooed. A few Order members have been tracked that way. We'll see. Bind them up with the other two prisoners!"

Someone yanked Johnny up by the hair, dragged him a short way, pushed him down into a sitting position, then started binding him back-to-back with other people. Johnny was still half blind, barely able to see anything through his puffed-up eyes. When at last the man tying then had walked away, Johnny whispered to the other prisoners.

"Anyone still got a wand?"

"No," Said Harry and Hermione from either side of him.

"This is all my fault. I said the name. I'm sorry-"

"Johnny?"

It was a new, but familiar voice. and it came from directly behind Johnny, from the person tied to Hermione's left.

"Dean?"

"It is you! Is Harry here? If they find out who they've got -! They're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold-"

"Not a bad little haul for one night." Greyback was saying, as a pair of hobnailed boots marched close by Johnny and they heard more crashes from inside the tent. "A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and these truants. You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?" he roared.

"Yeah. There's no Vernon and Viktor Dudley or Bardy Weasley un 'ere, Greyback."

"Interesting," said Greyback. "That's interesting. Jakob will be pleased anyway, having the Mudblood Werewolf Queen."

He crouched down beside Johnny, who saw, through the infinitesimal gap left between his swollen eyelids, a face covered in matted gray hair and whiskers, with pointed brown teeth and sores in the corners of his mouth. Greyback smelled like shit and death.

"So you aren't wanted, then, Viktor? Or are you on that list under a different name? What house were you in at Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin," said Johnny automatically.

"Funny 'ow they all thinks we wants to 'ear that." leered Scabior out of the shadows. "But none of 'em can tell us where the common room is."

"It's in the dungeons." said Johnny clearly. "You enter through the wall. It's full of skulls and stuff and its under the lake, so the light's all green,"

There was a short pause.

"Well, well, looks like we really 'ave caught a little Slytherin." said Scabior. "Good for you, Viktor, your brother must've been too, 'cause there ain't a lot of Mudblood Slytherins. Who's your father?"

"He works at the Ministry," Harry lied for them. They knew that this whole story would collapse with the smallest investigation, but on the other hand, they only had until their faces regained its usual appearance before the game was up in any case. "Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"You know what, Greyback," said Scabior. "I think there is a Dudley in there."

Johnny could barely breathe: Could luck, sheer luck, get them safely out of this?

"Well, well." said Greyback, and Johnny could hear the tiniest note of trepidation in that callous voice, and knew that Greyback was wondering whether he had just indeed just attacked and bound two sons of a Ministry Official. Johnny's heart was pounding against the ropes around his ribs; he wouldn't have been surprised to know that Greyback could see it. "If you're telling the truth, uglys, you've got nothing to fear from a trip to the Ministry. I expect your father'll reward us just for picking you boys up."

"But," said Harry, his mouth bone dry, "if you just let us-"

"Hey!" came a shout from inside the tent. "Look at this, Greyback!"

A dark figure came bustling toward them, and Johnny saw a glint of silver to the light of their wands. They had found Gryffindor's sword.

"Ve-e-ery nice," said Greyback appreciatively, taking it from his companion. "Oh, very nice indeed. Looks goblin-made, that. Where did you get something like this?"

"It's my father's," Johnny lied, hoping against hope that it was too dark for Greyback to see the name etched just below the hilt. "We borrowed it to cut firewood-"

"'ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!"

"'Hermione Granger," Scabior was saying, kneeling in front of Hermione, "the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with 'arry Potter and Johnny Grindelwald. Your Daddy-In-Law will be pleased we found you alive, even with a baby in you."

A stillness had settled over the scene.

"Well, this changed things, doesn't it?" whispered Greyback. Nobody spoke: Johnny sensed the gang of Snatchers watching, frozen, and felt Hermione's arm trembling against his. Greyback got up and took a couple of steps to where Harry sat, crouching down again to stare closely at his misshapen features.

"What's that on your forehead, Vernon?" he asked softly, as he pressed a filthy finger to the taught scar.

"Don't touch it!" Harry yelled; he couldn't stop himself,

"I thought you wore glasses, Potter?" breathed Greyback.

"I found glasses!" yelped one of the Snatchers skulking in the background. "There was glasses in the tent, Greyback, wait-"

And seconds later Harry's glasses had been rammed back onto his face. The Snatchers were closing in now, peering at him.

"It Is!" rasped Greyback. "We've caught Potter! Which means this is Johnathan Grindelwald!"

They all took several steps backward, stunned by what they had done.

"To the Ministry?"

"To hell with the Ministry." growled Greyback. "They'll take the credit, and we won't get a look in. I say we take them straight to You-Know-Who."

"Will you summon 'im? 'ere?" said Scabior, sounding awed, terrified.

"No," snarled Greyback, "I haven't got- they say he's using the Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take them there."

Johnny thought he knew why Greyback wasn't calling Voldemort. The werewolf might be allowed to wear Death Eater robes when they wanted to use him, but only Voldemort's inner circle were branded with the Dark Mark: Greyback hadn't been granted this highest honor.

"You must be feel ashamed," Johnny mocked Greyback. "That the King you betrayed got the mark, while you, a loyal follower, hasn't."

"Shut it, Grindelwald!" Snarled Greyback, and aimed a kick at Johnny's head, knocking him out.

"How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback, I can't- blimey!" Johnny heard when he woke up.

The man whipped his hands away in fright. The iron was contorting, twisting itself out of the abstract furls and coils into a frightening face, which spoke in a clanging, echoing voice. "State your purpose!"

"We've got Potter, Grindelwald, and Granger!" Greyback roared triumphantly. "We've captured Harry Potter, Johnathan Grindelwald and Hermione Granger, and she's with child!"

The gates swung open.

"Come on!" said Greyback to his men, and the prisoners were shunted through the gates and up the drive, between high hedges that muffled their footsteps. Johnny saw a ghostly white shape above him, and realised it was an albino peacock. He stumbled and was dragged onto his feet by Greyback; now he was staggering along sideways, tied back-to-back to the four other prisoner. Closing his puffy eyes, he allowed the pain in his Dark Mark to overcome him for a moment,

Light spilled out over all of them.

"What is this?" said a woman's cold voice.

"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback.

"Who are you?"

"You know me!" There was resentment in the werewolf's voice. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter, Johnathan Grindelwald and Hermione Granger!"

Greyback seized Johnny and dragged him around to face the light, forcing the other prisoners to shuffle around too.

"I know 'es swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im!" piped up Scabior. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is eyes. And this 'ere, see the girl? His Mudblood who's pregnant, an Arry' Potter. There's no doubt it's 'em, and we've got the wand as well! 'Ere, ma'am-"

Through his puffy eyelids Johnny saw Narcissa Malfoy scrutinising his swollen face. Scabior thrust the blackthorn wand at her. She raised her eyebrows.

"Bring them in," she said.

Johnny and the others were shoved and kicked up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits.

"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son is home for the Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter and Johnathan Grindelwald, he will know."

The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside; even with his eyes almost closed Johnny could make out the wide proportions of the room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the Snatchers.

"What is this?"

The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Johnny's ears. He was panicking now. He could see no way out.

"They say they've got Potter and Grindelwald," said Narcissa's cold voice. "Draco, come here."

Johnny didn't dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely; a figure slightly taller than he was, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair.

Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry and Johnny directly beneath the chandelier.

"Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf.

Johnny was facing a mirror over the fireplace, a great gilded thing in an intricately scrolled frame. Through the slits of his eyes he saw his and Harry's reflection for the first time since leaving Grimmauld Place.

His and Harry's faces was huge, shiny, and pink, every feature distorted by Hermione's jinx. Johnny's reached his shoulders and there was a dark shadow around his jaw. They resolved not to speak, for their voices was sure to give them away; yet they still avoided eye contact with Draco as the latter approached.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it them?"

"I can't- I can't be sure," said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry and Johnny as they were of looking at him.

"But look at them carefully, look! Come closer!"

Johnny had never heard Lucius Malfoy so excited.

"Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter and Grindelwald over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly.

"Of course not, of course not!" said Lucius impatiently. He approached Johnny himself, came so close that Johnny could see the usually languid, pale face in sharp detail even through his swollen eyes. With his face a puffy mask, Johnny felt as though he was peering out from between the bars of a cage.

"What did you do to them?" Lucius asked Greyback. "How did they get into this state?"

"That wasn't us."

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," said Lucius.

"There's something there," he whispered. "it could be the scar, stretched tight...."

He then turned to Johnny, and lifted the sleeve of Johnny's jacket.

"Well, well, well, it is Mr. Grindelwald," said Malfoy, grinning evilly. "Draco, come here, look properly at the other one! What do you think, is it Potter?"

"I don't know," Draco said, and he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching.

"We had better be certain, Lucius," Narcissa called to her husband in her cold, clear voice. "Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord... They say this is Potter's" she was looking closely at the blackthorn wand, not knowing that Harry left his actual wand in the tent and picked up Johnny's, "-but it does not resemble Ollivander's description.... If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing... Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"

"What about the Mudblood, then?" growled Greyback. Johnny was nearly thrown off his feet as the Snatchers forced the prisoners to swivel around again, so that the light fell on Hermione instead.

"Wait," said Narcissa sharply. "Yes- yes, that's Grindelwald's fiancé! I saw her picture in the Prophet! She's pregnant too? Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

"I... maybe... yeah."

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. "It's them, their friends- Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name-?"

"Yeah," said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. "It could be."

The drawing room door opened behind Johnny. A man spoke, and the sound of the voice wound Johnny's fear to an even higher pitch.

"What is this? What's happened, Narcissa?" Jakob Grindelwald walked slowly around the prisoners, and stopped on Johnny's right, staring at Hermione through his heavily lidded eyes, "But surely," he said quietly, "this is the Mudblood girl? My son's girlfriend?"

"Yes, yes, it's Granger!" cried Lucius, "And beside her is your son, and we think, Potter! Caught at last!"

"Johnny?" Bellatrix whispered, kneeling down to Johnny's hight. She held his face in his hands, before she was roughly dragged back by Jakob.

"No helping my son this time, Bella, you remember what happened the last time?" snarled Jakob, turning to face the Malfoy's. "Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!"

Jakob dragged back his left sleeve: Johnny saw the Dark Mark burned into the flesh of his arm, and knew that he was about to touch it, to summon his beloved Master-

"I was about to call him!" said Lucius, and his hand actually closed upon Jakob's wrist, preventing him from touching the Mark. "I shall summon him, Jakob. Grindelwald, Potter and their friends have been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority-"

"Your authority!" Jakob sneered, attempting to wrench his hand from his grasp. "You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!"

"This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy-"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy," interjected Greyback, "but it's us that caught Grindelwald and Potter, and it's us that'll be claiming the gold-"

"Gold!" laughed Jakob, still attempting to throw off his brother-in-law, his free hand groping in his pocket for his wand. "Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his- of-"

Jakob stopped struggling, his dark eyes fixed upon something Johnny couldn't see. Jubilant at his capitulation, Lucius threw Jakob's hand from him and ripped up his own sleeve-

"STOP!" shrieked Jakob, "Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

Lucius froze, his index finger hovering over his own Mark. Bellatrix crawled into Johnny's vision, cupping his cheek.

"Are you okay?" Bellatrix whispered, wiping a lone tear from Johnny's cheek. Johnny didn't have a chance to answer, as Jakob shrieked.

"What is that!?"

"Sword," grunted an out-of-sight Snatcher.

"Give it to me."

"It's not yours, sir, it's mine, I reckon I found it."

There was a bang and a flash of green light; Johnny knew that the Snatcher had been killed. There was a roar of anger from his fellows: Scabior drew his wand.

"What d'you think you're playing at, Grindelwald?"

"Stupefy!" Jakob screamed, "Stupefy!"

They were no match for him, even though there were four of them against one of Jakob: Jakob was a wizard with prodigious skill and no conscience. They fell where they stood, all except Greyback, who had been forced into a kneeling position, his arms outstretched. Out of the corners of his eyes Johnny saw Jakob bearing down upon the werewolf, the sword of Gryffindor gripped tightly in his hand, his face waxen.

"Where did you get this sword?" Jakob whispered to Greyback.

"How dare you?" Greyback snarled, his mouth the only thing that could move as he was forced to gaze up at Jakob. He bared his pointed teeth. "Release me, Grindelwald!"

"Where did you find this sword?" Jakob repeated, brandishing it in his face, "Snape sent it to my wife's vault in Gringotts!"

"It was in their tent," rasped Greyback. "Release me, I say!"

Jakob waved his wand, and the werewolf sprang to his feet, but appeared too wary to approach him. He prowled behind an armchair, his filthy curved nails clutching its back.

"Draco, move this scum outside," said Jakob, indicating the unconscious men and the one he killed. "If you haven't got the guts to finish the unconscious ones, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

"Don't you dare speak to Draco like-" said Narcissa furiously, but Jakob yelled.

"Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Narcissa! We have a very serious problem!" Jakob stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then he turned to look at the silent prisoners.

"Potter and my son must not be harmed," Jakob muttered, more to himself than to the others. "The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of them himself... But if he finds out... I must... I must know..."

Jako. turned back to Narcissa, who stood with Bellatrix by the fire.

"The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!"

"This is my house, Jakob, you don't give orders in my-"

"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we're in!" shrieked Jakob. He looked frightening, mad; a thin stream of fire issued from his wand and burned a hole in the carpet.

Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then addressed the werewolf.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."

"Wait," said Jakob sharply. "All except... except for the Mudblood, I want to get to know my son's apparent fiancé and the child growing in her belly."

Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.

"No!" shouted Johnny. "You can have me, keep me! Leave him!"

Jakob hit him across the face: the blow echoed around the room.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll make sure to cut the baby out and show you it," Jakob said, cupping his son's jaw so Johnny faced him. "Then, I'll take your new born baby, and make you watch as I smash it's head against the ground. Then I'll kill the Blood-Traitor. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them- yet."

Jakob threw Greyback's wand back to him, then took a short silver knife from under his jacket. Jakob cut Hermione free from the other prisoners, then dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room, while Greyback forced the rest of them to shuffle across to another door, into a dark passageway, his wand held out in front of him, projecting an invisible and irresistible force.

"Reckon she'll let me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her?" Greyback crooned as he forced them along the corridor. "I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, Johnny boy?"

Ron could feel Johnny shaking. They were forced down a steep flight of stairs, still tied back-to-back and in danger of slipping and breaking their necks at any moment. At the bottom was a heavy door. Greyback unlocked it with a tap of his wand, then forced them into a dank and musty room and left them in total darkness. The echoing bang of the slammed cellar door had9 died away before there was a terrible, drawn out scream from directly above them.

"HERMIONE!" Johnny bellowed, his eyes flashing red, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together, so that Ron staggered. "HERMIONE!"

"Be quiet!" Harry said. "Shut up. Johnny, we need to work out a way-"

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

"We need a plan, stop yelling- we need to get these ropes off-"

"Johnny? Harry?" came a whisper through the darkness. "Ron? Is that you?"

Johnny stopped shouting. There was a sound of movement close by them, then Johnny saw a shadow moving closer.

"Johnny? Harry? Ron?"

"Luna?"

"Yes, it's me! Oh no, I didn't want you to be caught!"

"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?" said Johnny urgently.

"Oh yes, I expect so.... There's an old nail we use if we need to break anything.... Just a moment..."

Hermione screamed again from overhead, and they could hear Jakob yelling in triumph too, but his words were inaudible, for Johnny shouted again, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

"Mr. Ollivander?" They could hear Luna saying. "Mr. Ollivander, have you got the nail? If you just move over a little bit... I think it was beside the water jug."

She was back within seconds.

"You'll need to stay still," she said.

From upstairs they heard Bellatrix's and Jakob's voices.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"

"Jakob, leave her alone! She's pregnant, with you grandchild!'

"We found it- we found it- PLEASE!" Hermione screamed again; struggled harder than ever.

"Johnny, please stay still!" Luna whispered. "I can't see what I'm doing-"

"My pocket!" said Ron, "In my pocket, there's a Deluminator, and it's full of light!"

A few seconds later, there was a click, and the luminescent spheres the Deluminator had sucked from the lamps in the tent flew into the cellar: Unable to rejoin their sources, they simply hung there, like tiny suns, flooding the underground room with light.

"Oh, that's much easier, thanks, Ron," said Luna, and she began hacking at their bindings again. "Hello, Dean!"

From above came Jakob's voice.

"You're lying, filthy, Half-Breed, Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

Another terrible scream-

"HERMIONE!"

"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

"There!"

Johnny felt the ropes fall away and turned, running around the cellar, looking up at the low ceiling, searching for a trapdoor. Dean, his face bruised and bloody, said "Thanks" to Luna and stood there, shivering, but Griphook sank onto the cellar floor, looking groggy and disoriented, many welts across his swarthy face.

Johnny was now trying to Disapparate without a wand.

"There's no way out, Johnny," said Luna, watching his fruitless efforts. "The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr. Ollivander has been here for a long time, he's tried everything."

Hermione was screaming again: The sound went through Johnny like physical pain. Harry and Ron began running around the cellar with Johnny.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

Hermione's screams echoed off the walls upstairs, Johnny was half sobbing as he pounded the walls with his fists.

"Help us!" Harry yelled at the mirror he used to communicate with Sirius in mad desperation. "We're in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!"

The eye blinked and was gone.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" Johnny yelled, breaking down full on as he banged the wall.

"Why can't you shift?" Ron asked Johnny, touching his shoulder.

"I'm weak!" Johnny cried, concentrating as hard as he could to shift, but it wasn't working.

"How did you get into my vault?" they heard Jakob scream. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been inside your vault... It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"A copy?" screeched Jakob. "Oh, a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" came Lucius's voice. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

Johnny dashed across the cellar to where Griphook was huddled on the floor.

"Griphook," Johnny whispered into the goblin's pointed ear, "you must tell them that sword's a fake, they mustn't know it's the real one, Griphook, please-"

He could hear someone scuttling own the cellar steps; next moment, Draco's shaking voice spoke from behind the door.

"Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!"

They did as they were bidden; as the lock turned, Ron clicked the Deluminator and the lights whisked back into his pocket, restoring the cellar's darkness. The door flew open; Malfoy marched inside, wand held out in front of him, pale and determined. He seized the little goblin by the arm and backed out again, dragging Griphook with him. The door slammed shut and at the same moment a loud crack echoed inside the cellar.

Ron clicked the Deluminator. Three balls of light flew back into the air from his pocket, revealing Dobby the house-elf, who had just Apparated into their midst.

"DOB-!"

Harry and Ron both hit Johnny on the arm to stop him shouting, and Johnny looked terrified at his mistake. Footsteps crossed the ceiling overhead: Draco marching Griphook to Jakob.

Dobby's enormous, tennis-ball shaped eyes were wide; he was trembling from his feet to the tips of his ears. He was back in the home of his old masters, and it was clear that he was petrified.

"Harry Potter, Johnathan Grindelwald," he squeaked in the tiniest quiver of a voice, "Dobby has come to rescue you."

"But how did you-?"

An awful scream drowned Harry's words: Hermione was being tortured again. He cut to the essentials.

"You can Disapparate out of this cellar?" Harry asked Dobby, who nodded, his ears flapping.

"And you can take humans with you?"

Dobby nodded again.

"Right. Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander, and take them- take them to-"

"Bill and Fleur's," said Ron. "Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Pembrokeshire!"

The elf nodded for a third time.

"And then stay with them," said Johnny. "Can you do that, Dobby?"

"Of course, Johnathan Grindelwald," whispered the little elf. He hurried over to Mr. Ollivander, who appeared to be barely conscious. He took one of the wandmaker's hands in his own, then held out the other to Luna and Dean, neither of whom moved.

"Boys, we want to help you!" Luna whispered.

"We can't leave you here," said Dean.

"Go, both of you! We'll see you at Bill and Fleur's."

"Go!" Harry beseeched to Luna and Dean. "Go! We'll follow, just go!"

They caught hold of the elf's outstretched fingers. There was another loud crack, and Dobby, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander vanished.

"What was that?" shouted Lucius Malfoy from over their heads. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?"

Johnny, Harry and Ron stared at each other.

"Draco- no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

Footsteps crossed the room overhead, then there was silence. Johnny knew that the people in the drawing room were listening for more noises from the cellar.

"We're going to have to try and tackle him," Johnny whispered to Ron and Harry. They had no choice: The moment anyone entered the room and saw the absence of three prisoners, they were lost. "Leave the lights on," Johnny added, and as they heard someone descending the steps outside the door, they backed against the wall on either side of it.

"Stand back," came Wormtail's voice. "Stand away from the door. I'm coming in."

The door flew open. For a split second Wormtail gazed into the apparently empty cellar, ablaze with light from the three miniature suns floating in midair. Then Johnny, Harry and Ron launched themselves upon him. Ron seized Wormtail's wand arm and forced it upwards. Harry slapped a hand to his mouth, muffling his voice. Silently they struggled: Wormtail's wand emitted sparks; his silver hand closed around Johnny's throat.

"What is it, Wormtail?" called Lucius Malfoy from above.

"Nothing!" Ron called back, in a passable imitation of Wormtail's wheezy voice. "All fine!"

Johnny could barely breathe.

"You're going to kill me?" Johnny choked, attempting to prise off the metal fingers. "After Harry and I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!"

The silver fingers slackened. Johnny hadn't expected it: He wrenched himself free, astonished. He saw the ratlike man's small watery eyes widen with fear and surprise: He seemed just as shocked as the three at what his hand had done, at the tiny, merciful impulse it had betrayed, and he continued to struggle more powerfully, as though to undo that moment of weakness.

"And we'll have that," whispered Ron, tugging Wormtail's wand from his other hand.

Wandless, helpless, Pettigrew's pupils dilated in terror. His eyes had slid from Johnny's face to something else. His own silver fingers were moving inexorably toward his own throat.

"No-"

Without pausing to think, Johnny and Harry tried to drag back the hand, but there was no stopping it. The silver tool that Voldemort had given his most cowardly servant had turned upon its disarmed and useless owner; Pettigrew was reaping his reward for his hesitation, his moment of pity; he was being strangled before their eyes.

"No!"

Ron had released Wormtail too, and together he, Johnny and Harry tried to pull the crushing metal fingers from around Wormtail's throat, but it was no use. Pettigrew was turning blue.

"Relashio!" said Ron, pointing the wand at the silver hand, but nothing happened; Pettigrew dropped to his knees, and at the same moment, Hermione gave a dreadful scream from overhead. Wormtail's eyes rolled upward in his purple face; he gave a last twitch, and was still.

Johnny, Harry and Ron looked at each other, then leaving Wormtail's body on the floor behind them, ran up the stairs and back into the shadowy passageway leading to the drawing room. Cautiously they crept along it until they reached the drawing room door, which was ajar. Now they had a clear view of Jakob looking down at Griphook, who was holding Gryffindor's sword in his long-fingered hands. Hermione's head was laying in Bellatrix's lap, the older woman wiping away the blood on Hermione's forehead. Hermione was barely stirring.

"Well?" Jakob said to Griphook. "Is it the true sword?"

Johnny waited, holding his breath.

"No," said Griphook. "It is a fake."

"Are you sure?" panted Jakob, a sickening grin forming on his face. "Quite sure?"

"Yes," said the goblin.

Relief broke across his face, all tension drained from it.

"Good," Jakob said, and with a casual flick of his wand, he slashed another deep cut into the goblin's face, and he dropped with a yell at Jakob's feet. Jakob kicked him aside. "And now," Jakob said in a voice that burst with triumph, "we call the Dark Lord!" And he pushed back his  sleeve and touched his forefinger to the Dark Mark.

At once, Johnny's Dark Mark burst into pain.

"And I think," said Jakob's voice, "we can dispose of the Mudblood and her pup. Greyback, take her if you want her."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Johnny had burst into the drawing room; Bellatrix and Jakob looked around, shocked; Jakob turned his wand to face Johnny instead-

"Expelliarmus!" he roared, pointing Wormtail's wand at Jakob, and hit flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted after Johnny. Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and Greyback wheeled about; Johnny yelled, "Stupefy!" and Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the hearth. Jets of light flew from Draco's, Narcissa's, and Greyback's wands; Johnny threw himself to the floor, rolling behind a sofa to avoid them.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!"

Panting, Johnny peered around the edge of the sofa. Jakob was supporting Hermione, who seemed to be unconscious, and was holding her short silver knife to Hermione's stomach.

"Drop your wands," Jakob whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her and this baby's blood is!"

Harry, Johnny, Ron and Bellatrix stood side by side, Harry and Johnny clutching wands tightly in their hands.

"I said, drop them!" Jakob screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione's stomach: Johnny saw beads of blood appear there.

"All right!" Johnny shouted, and he dropped Wormtail's wand onto the floor at his feet, Harry doing the same. They raised their hands to shoulder height.

"Good!" Jakob leered. "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, boys! Your death approaches!"

"Now," said Jakob softly, as Draco hurried back to her with the wands. "Narcissa, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood and the pup. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl and her babe, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."

At the last word there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of them looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall. Jakob was directly beneath it; dropping Hermione, he threw himself aside with a scream. The chandelier crashed to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains, falling on top of Hermione and the goblin, who protected Hermione's stomach. Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions; Draco doubled over, his hands covering his bloody face.

"Stupefy!" Johnny yelled, stunning Draco, Narcissa and Greyback, before rushing towards Hermione and pulling her out of the rubble.

As Narcissa dragged Draco out of the way of further harm, Jakob sprang to his feet, his hair flying as he brandished the silver knife; but Narcissa had directed her wand at the doorway.

"Bella!" she screamed and even Jakob froze. "You! You dropped the chandelier-?"

Bellatrix stood in the same place, a harsh glare on her face as she aimed her wand at Jakob. "You won't hurt my son, his fiancé, his child or his friends," Bellatrix hissed.

"Kill her!" shrieked Jakob, but Bellatrix disarmed her sister, and Narcissa's wand flew into the air and landed on the other side of the room.

"You dirty little bitch!" bawled Jakob, pointing at his wife. "How dare you defy your sister and your husband?"

"She hasn't been my sister for a long time, and you were never my husband!" Shrieked Bellatrix.

"Ron, Johnny, catch- and GO!" Johnny yelled, throwing them two wands; then Harry bent down to tug Griphook out from under the chandelier. Hoisting the groaning goblin, who still clung to the sword, over one shoulder, Harry seized Johnny's shoulder as Johnny spun on the spot to Disapparate.

As they turned into darkness Johnny caught one last view of the drawing room of the pale, frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, of the streak of red that was Ron's hair, and a blue of flying silver, as Jakob's knife flew across the room at the place where they was vanishing-

Bill and Fleur's... Shell Cottage... Bill and Fleur's...

And then they hit solid earth and smelled salty air. Johnny fell to his knees, relinquished Bellatrix's hand, and gently lowered Hermione to the floor.

"Are you all right?" Johnny asked, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as Hermione opened her eyes.

"No," Hermione winced, clutching her stomach.

"Ron, is this Shell Cottage?" Harry whispered,', ready to fight if he needed to. "Have we come to the right place?"

"Yeah..."

Johnny looked around. His heart dropped.

"BELLA!"

Bellatrix swayed slightly, stars reflected in her wide, shining eyes. Together, he and Bella looked down at the silver hilt of the knife protruding from Bellatrix's heaving chest.

"Bella- no- HELP!" Johnny bellowed toward the cottage, toward the people moving there. "HELP!"

He didn't know or care whether they were wizards or Muggles, friends or foes; all he cared about was that a dark stain was spreading across Bella's front, and that she had stretched out her own arms to Johnny with a look of supplication. Johnny caught Bellatrix and laid her sideways on the cool grass, her head resting in Johnny's lap.

"Bella, Mum, no, don't die, don't die-"

Bellatrix's eyes found him, and her lips trembled with the effort to form words.

"Johnny... I... love... you..." Bellatrix trembled softly, her hand weakly raising to cup Johnny's cheek. "Yo...you were the son... I always wanted..." And then with a little shudder, Bellatrix became quite still, and her eyes were nothing more than great glassy orbs, sprinkled with light from the stars they couldn't see.

"I love you too," Johnny sobbed, hugging Bellatrix to his chest.

"Johnny!" Shouted Ron, who was supporting Hermione along with Dean who had just rushed down from the cottage, followed by Luna, Fleur and Bill.

"What?!" Johnny snapped, his tears wetting Bellatrix's face as he held her.

"It's Hermione, she's in labour!"