Title: End of Days

Summary: It's seventh year, and things are changing; Harry's not sure if that's good or not.

Warning: plot abounds

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Chapter One: Fall

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Sometime over the last month, Hogwarts had changed. Harry wasn't sure when he noticed it; maybe it had been the sputtering torches mounted on the wall, or the empty frame leading to the Gryffindor common room, or maybe it was that he had not seen Headmaster Dumbledore since the Welcoming Feast, when he winked at Harry in good cheer and everything seemed saturated with warmth and light.

Now it was dark, and Harry sat in the window and watched for Hedwig. She had been gone for a week; left on Sunday with a package to Sirius, was that her there? No - it was only the twinkle of a star. He pressed his cheek against the cold glass, staring at the frost developing in the corner.

Winter would come early and stay late, this year. Professor Sprout was already harvesting the Dragonweed, although it was stubbornly green, and Hagrid could be seen turning over pumpkins every morning to hurry along their fall colour in what meagre sunlight was left.

Harry tucked a scarf around his neck that morning before Care of Magical Creatures, but gave up on his gloves after a brief scuffle with his trunk.

"Toast?" Hermione inquired, shoving a jam-and-honey toast sandwich into his hand as he hurried after her. Ron was taking Dragonology - a sort of companion course to Magical Creatures, which, amazingly, Hermione hadn't known about. Charlie had taken it, Ron said. They didn't argue.

"Thanks luv." Harry shoved it into his mouth and chewed determinedly. The toast was stale, and although Hermione was steadfastly supportive of the house-elves right to take paid vacations, even she agreed that their disappearance was inconvenient for all the students. "Maybe the rest of them will take pity on us and make eggs tomorrow," he muttered.

"Harry," Hermione chided as they drew up to Hagrid's cabin. Then she paused. "Be thankful it's not porridge."

He grinned. "Oh, I am. After all, how would Ron take it?"

"Not well," she sighed. "Well, the dinner situation neither. We're down to boiled potatoes and sprouts - not that you'd know - really Harry, I wish you'd stop missing meals, you're far too skinny as it is." Hermione frowned and shuffled through her bag, pulling out a roll of parchement and a ballpoint pen. "And stop staring at him," she added, sotto voce, "or people will start to wonder."

Harry flushed and tore his gaze away from the other side of the field, where Malfoy lounged indolently, surrounded by Slytherins. "Wonder what, whether I'm planning to curse him?"

"Take Parvati Patil, for example," Hermione continued, ignoring his irritable glower, "she's sharper than she acts, and she makes it a hobby to pick up on peoples romantic inclinations -"

"- in other words she likes to gossip as much as the rest of them -"

"Well she's a bit smarter about it -"

"- and romantic inclinations? Toward Malfoy? You're nutters -"

"Sometimes I wonder if you're not right," Hermione muttered, and then with a nervous laugh, she said, "Of course Parvati's got some funny notions too. I mean once I overheard her saying something about you and me, of all people."

Harry snorted through a mouthful of crumbly bread. "Me and Ron would be a better match," he said. "You haven't got the right bits."

Hermione opened her mouth and was promptly interrupted by Hagrid's arrival. Harry sighed in relief. She was convinced that preferring men was a psychological thing that she could only understand through over-analyzing the person in question - unfortunately yours truly - and, quite frankly, he preferred Ron's blatant avoidance of the subject.

"A'hright then, everyone, follow me!" Hagrid's booming voice cut through the superfluous chatter easily. "I got a special treat for yeh today!"

Harry exchanged a wary glance with Hermione. "Brilliant."

Hagrid's 'special treats' often included such monstrosities as the Blast-Ended Skrewt, or Aragog and his vast extended family of arachnids. But this time they were headed toward the lake - perhaps he was going to introduce them to the giant squid. "Class, this is Daisy. 'Ere, shake a tentacle, 'Arry. She's perfectly 'armless." Harry snorted.

The class arranged themselves around the dock; there were several boats tied up - Harry recognized them as the same ones that had carried him across the lake seven years ago - into which Hagrid ushered them. "They en't going to tip over, these boats," Hagrid told Pansy Parkinson when she eyed them a bit fearfully.

"If I get so much as a drop of this nasty lakewater on me, that oaf will hear of it," Harry heard her whisper to Malfoy as they stepped in.

He held out a hand to Hermione to help her in, and she dropped her bottomless bag beside him. "Huh, I knew I should have put a flotation charm on it," she said ruefully. "Just my luck if it falls in."

And indeed the boat swayed violently when Neville clambered in, looking nervous. "I can't swim," he mumbled, clutching his bag tightly to his lap.

"Won't be any great loss if you fall in, then, will it Longbottom?" Malfoy sneered from the boat next to them.

"Sh-shut up, Malfoy!"

"Ferrets can't swim either, can they, Hermione?" Harry said pointedly. "Little more than a mouthful for the giant squid. Bet he's never had pointy little pureblood before."

"Why you - how dare you -!" Malfoy spluttered, leaning over the side of his boat as if he would leap into theirs. It rocked dangerously and Parkinson reached over to restrain him.

"Guess he's still sensitive about that," Hermione whispered gleefully.

Hagrid untied the boats and boarded his own, and they set out smoothly from the shore. The ride to the centre of the lake was mostly quiet, permeated by the slap-slap of water against the side and the low chatter of the girls in the next boat over. Halfway across, Hagrid stopped them with a gesture of his hand.

He drew an oddly shaped horn out of his pocket, putting it to his lips. At first, nothing seemed forthcoming - only the faint whistle of wind over water. But the sound grew louder and louder, until a low, eerie wail soared across the water. It thundered against Harry's eardrums and he winced, clapping his hands over his ears - but the sound went straight through them. It swelled to a peak, and then died away gradually, echoing against the mountains on the far side, leaving silence in its wake.

An expectant hush fell over the students. Even the few sceptical Slytherins in the class were silenced by the stillness. And then, out of the deep water, there came an answering call.

The sound was mournful, so full of sorrow that Harry found himself holding his breath, and he heard Hermione gasp beside him. He watched in amazement as a ripple formed on the surface of the water fifty yards away, becoming a wave as it drew nearer to them, cresting into frothing white water. Broken from the spell, several of the girls shrieked at the sight and drew back.

"Don't be alarmed, now," Hagrid said, "'E wouldn't do a bit o' damage. Gentle as a unicorn, this one is."

And sure enough, the wave suddenly subsided into tiny whirlpools as the creature dove. Harry thought he spotted a gleam of white before it disappeared - suddenly, the water beneath them stirred and a huge, pale shape passed under the crowd of boats. Hermione made a small noise of alarm.

"Oh!" She cried, leaning over the side of the boat. "Harry, do you know what this is?"

"'E's called Joga," Hagrid told them proudly. "King o' the lake. Dumbledore gave me special permission te' let you visit 'im today."

Not even Malfoy had a snarky comment to make. The creature surfaced again and blew a spray of mist into the crisp air with a huff; this time the white of its back shone brightly in the reflection of the sun.

"Water Gods, they call them." Harry turned to Hermione. "It's a very rare species of whale, brought to light by an inquisitive order of wizards during the naval war of 1642," she said, "they believed the creatures had magical powers because of their enchanting song and their extremely reclusive nature."

She paused. "Isn't it strange, though, that it's living here. I was certain they were saltwater creatures."

"The giant squid is a sea beast too," Harry pointed out. "Maybe it was brought here by the founders?"

"Maybe," she hummed, but Harry was already searching the water for the shape of the beast, enthralled by its gargantuan elegance.

The image stayed with him long after they'd docked on the shores of the lake and trudged off to the castle again, uncharacteristically solemn; through a dinner of lumpy mashed potatoes and tasteless gravy, while Hermione recounted the tale to Ron; even as he sat in the window alcove of the common room where the fire sputtered gamely along, and Dobby puttered around silently in the background while he watched the fern-curl of frost creep up the window. In his mind, he could see the pale, sleek side slicing through the water with such grace that flight seem a clumsy and hurried medium in comparison. He could easily imagine such a creature alive before the dawn of their time, endlessly circling the world, sea after sea a witness to its lonesome cry.

That Saturday saw the largest attendance at an Army meeting since its inception. Harry stood on a podium in the Room of Requirements - which had transformed itself into an appropriately enormous training room - and put his wand to his throat.

"Sonorus."

He tapped the edge of the desk and the mass of people quieted to a dull roar. "Well," he began. "Welcome to the first DA meeting of the season. It's good to see so many familiar faces, and -" he paused and scanned the room. "-So many new ones."

There were few Slytherins among the crowd, but plenty of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He grinned. "If this is your first meeting, I'll ask that you line up by Hermione and put your name on the sign-up sheet. Then come up here and I'll give you a quick evaluation so we can place you in a training squadron."

It had been Ron's idea to run the DA like the army it was to become, and it was a spectacularly good one - especially now, with so many people. Harry could barely handle the few who had come in previous years. Now, with the shadow of the Dark Lord hanging over Hogwarts, a shroud over a stone coffin, the students were eager to learn to defend themselves. The Army taught unconventional spells, more practical ways of fighting than Defense Against the Dark Arts did, even with Tonks as a teacher. She was decent, for a seventh year level, but they needed something more than that if they were to survive the coming darkness.

He paired the more experienced students with the younger ones; there were more first and second years than he had expected. He hoped they never had cause to use the spells they were being taught.

"There'll be seven squadrons," he continued. "Heading each will be a more experienced DA member: Ron, you'll take squadron one; Hermione, squadron two; Cho, squadron three; Colin, squadron four."

Colin Creevey saluted proudly. "Yes sah!"

"Ernie Macmillan, squadron five," he said, and Ernie nodded.

Ernie wasn't a staunch supporter of Harry on the best of days, but behind all the bluster and self-importance he was a good spellcaster, and Harry trusted him to train his squadron well as a matter of pride.

"Millicent Bulstrode, squadron six." That brought a murmur of surprise from Ron. She was the last minute replacement of Justin Finch-Fletchley, who, although hardly a bad dueller, was only a passable teacher. Millicent, on the other hand, was good with the younger ones and intimidating enough that no one really wanted to argue with her. She had approached Harry at the beginning of their sixth year to request amnesty for herself and her sister, and he had decided it was about time he put aside House differences.

Ron would disagree. He was always black and white, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. But Hermione would bring him around; and he wasn't Harry's second in command for no reason - Harry knew he had seen Millicent handle her peers with a deft hand at other meetings. She was easily underestimated.

"Ginny, I'm counting on you to bring up the rear with squadron seven," he said finally. The youngest Weasley grinned and nodded.

Harry decided to take on some of the younger years himself - of the ten who came, one was nervous and looked to be rather accident prone, and two were brash and overconfident, from the way their voices rose as they chatted with the others.

He drew them aside when everyone was sorted. "You three will be training under me for now," he said. "My name is Harry."

"We know that," said one of the louder ones. "You're Harry Potter."

He and his counterpart both sported twin Slytherin badges on their robes. In fact, they looked exactly alike in every other aspect as well; short, dark hair, a proud tilt to the head, both taller than most ordinary first years. They towered over their miniscule Hufflepuff classmate, who stood as far from them as he could get. "I'm Dorian," the twin told Harry, "Dorian Whitefoot. And this is my brother, Casseus Whitefoot."

Harry shook his and his brother's hand. "Dorian, Casseus."

He turned his gaze to the nervous Hufflepuff, who stuck his hands behind his back and looked down at his feet.

"J - Jebediah Wormstead," he stammered. Harry held out a hand.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Jebediah," he said. The first year looked up at him, astonished, and cautiously took his hand. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Merlin, Hermione, the Whitefoot twins are a nightmare. Nearly as bad as Fred and George, with a helping of pureblood supremacy to boot." Harry sighed and threw his legs over the arm of his chair. The common room was nearly empty when they got back from DA; it was almost past curfew. Harry had called the meeting to a close when to many first years were hit with a wayward spell.

"Maybe it would be better to seperate them," Hermione advised, pulling out her homework.

"They'd be a good team - they're perfectly coordinated - if they weren't so focused on teasing that poor Hufflepuff," Harry muttered. "Really, Hermione, homework?"

"I have a History of Magic paper due tomorrow, same as you two," she replied. "However I, unlike you, will have it done."

Ron groaned from his apparent coffin on the lurid red couch. "Can't we just -"

"Honestly, Ron, Professor Binns isn't that thick. It becomes fairly obvious that you're copying - and I'm letting you - when three people hand in the exact same paper," she snapped.

"But I'm so tired," he moaned. "You think the Whitefoot twins are bad, Harry, you stuck me with that little terror Dennis Creevey. Couldn't you've put him with Colin?"

"Are you mad?" Hermione queried, in a perfectly serious tone. "That would be like putting you under Percy's charge. They'd be at each others' throats and no one would get anything done."

"It's only a trial run," Harry mumbled, tossing an arm across his forehead. "but if the weather turns, there'll be not much else to do besides team training."

"Doesn't mean I have to look forward to it," Ron said. "And if he brings his brother's camera to the next meeting, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

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Colin: DENNIS WHERE IS MY CAMERA *_*

(next chapter: winter and strange breakfast companions)