* * *
Summer at the Dursley's was about the same as usual, even though Uncle Vernon had been warned by Mad-Eye Moody and other members of the Order of the Phoenix to treat Harry well after his horrendous fifth year at Hogwarts. The only notable difference was that whenever he said that he didn't exactly think that his needs were being satisfied, Uncle Vernon had practically tripped over himself in his eagerness to lecture Harry about how wrong he was. However, every time this happened, he'd later find whatever he'd complained about left for him without a word. For example, he once complained that he didn't even enjoy eating his food anymore – they were all still on Dudley's diet, which seemed to contain only about one piece of lettuce and a carrot per meal. He was lectured on how unappreciative he was by Uncle Vernon, but when he went up to bed later there was an entire plateful of food sitting there, waiting for him. He tried to thank his aunt the next morning, but she just looked at him in an almost petrified manner and proceeded to ignore him.
The other good thing about this summer was that Professor Dumbledore didn't tell anyone to not tell him anything about the wizarding world. Consequently, he didn't have to hang around the Dursleys all the time, scrambling for news, or worry about being angry with his friends. In all honesty, they told him so much about the wizarding world that he began to wish they'd shut up a bit. Truly – why would he need to know the suspected color of Fudge's socks?
He never did say anything to Hermione or Ron about the overwhelming amount of information they sent him, mostly because he didn't want to disturb the balance they'd worked out between them. It had taken a good month or so for Hermione to stop questioning the state of his mental health in every other line, and just as long for Ron to feel comfortable writing about anything other than Quidditch and the twin's joke shop. He suspected it was because they just didn't know what to say to him.
Hell, he understood. It wasn't the first time he'd dealt with death – and he knew that it wouldn't be the last.. but... this was the first time it had been someone he'd known well and cared about. Harry would never be able to count how many times that summer – especially the first few weeks – that he'd sat down and started to write a letter to his godfather, or thought to himself how amused Sirius would be about some small incident or joke. It was those times – the times when he found himself acting as if Sirius were still around – that hurt the most. His heart would pound and his head would swim, and he'd just stand utterly still, his mind blank.
Fortunately, those moments were coming fewer and farther between. While part of him – the part that blamed himself for killing Sirius – hated that he was starting to accept it, the rest of him rejoiced because it was so much easier to just breathe now. He no longer felt like every breath was an act of sheer will, or that the only thing keeping him from screaming and throwing his fists against the wall was the mask he had to wear for fear of proving the Daily Prophet right – that he actually was off his rocker.
By the end of the summer, Hermione and Ron had reported that the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic had put their efforts together into forming the Defense League – a place for any who supported the fall of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. While still a relatively small organization –comprised mostly of the Order and the Ministry itself, its numbers increased daily as fear raced throughout the wizarding community. Currently, the Death Eaters Dumbledore had caught were still in Azkaban, but visits to the homes of officials at the Ministry by Dementors were becoming terrifyingly abundant.
Harry, himself, had had no such visits. His time was spent contemplating the prophecy that decreed he must either become a murderer or a victim, and he'd had to come to terms with how he was going to proceed with his duty.
He was anxious, infuriated, eager and horrified all at the same time. Yet he was ready to be a part of it all again. And prepared, he thought, for anything that might happen.
Of course, he wasn't...
* * *
"Harry!" The sound of his name stated almost in unison by three different voices caused him to smile and whirl around, releasing his cart to catch the small form that flung itself against him.
"Ron! Ginny! Hermione! How was your summer?" His arms closed about Hermione as he hugged her tightly, though his steady gaze met Ron's over her shoulder.
Hermione stepped back, her cheeks lightly flushed as she ran a hand through her tangled tresses. "Mine was quite busy. I've read up through quite a few DADA books, and made some sketchy lesson plans for you to use with the D.A."
Harry looked down at Hermione, his brows lifting in surprise even as Ron laughed and stepped forward to shake his hand. "Don't ask about it, Harry, please. Not yet. I've already heard the entire outline. Six times."
Harry grinned, releasing Ron's hand and reaching to hug Ginny, exchanging greetings with her before replying. "You poor thing, I feel so so so sorry for you."
Ron looked at him rather indignantly as Ginny chuckled. "You ought to! I also had to endure Mum's pining away for you all summer! 'Oh, poor Harry, I wonder if he's being well-fed. Oh! It's such a beautiful day, it's so sad that poor Harry can't get outside much.'" The words were spoken in a highly falsetto tone, at which Harry and the others laughed, until sobering quickly, their eyes widening.
Ron looked at the lot of them and groaned, his shoulders slumping. "She's standing right behind me, isn't she?"
"Right you are, Ronald Weasley! And I'm going to follow you to that school to ensure that you behave as a proper prefect should unless I get an apology from you this INSTANT!"
Ron rolled his eyes a bit, but murmured irritably "...Sorry, Mum."
"That's better. See that it doesn't happen again!" Mrs. Weasley's voice suddenly changed from Screeching Harridan to Weepy Den Mother. "Harry. It's so good to see you, at last. I hope you didn't fare too poorly this summer! I so wanted you to come join us at The Burrow, but Professor Dumbledore insisted that you were better off at home. Which is just rubbish, I know, but still – one doesn't go against a man like Dumbledore!"
Harry just smiled a little, a bit uncomfortable at being spoken to as if he were a toddler still in his nappies, but he was becoming more used to it now. Ron and Ginny's Mum cared about him, and he was grateful for it. He bent a little – he was now much taller than she was, though Ron still had him beat – and slipped his arms around her, hugging gently as he spoke quietly. "It's good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley. I wish I could have stayed at The Burrow, but I was alright at the Dursley's. And I'm okay, really."
She leaned back at stared at him a moment, then beamed, nodding. "Well of course you are! Strong boy like yourself, no reason why you wouldn't be!"
Ron just rolled his eyes again, and Ginny shook her head in mild amusement. Hermione piped up as Harry turned to grab his belongings once more. "We really ought to get on the train, especially if we want to get a compartment of our own so we don't have to split up."
"You're such a thinker, Hermione. What would we do without you?"
"Shut up, Ron."
"So Hermione, what did you have in mind for the D.A.?" Ron's strangled groan could be heard as he clamped his hands over his ears and glared in Harry's direction.
Harry grinned and made his way onto the train. It was good to be back.
* * *
"So, what are you planning, Draco?" Crabbe spoke to his fellow Slytherin around a mouthful of chocolate.
Draco narrowed his gaze, then turned away in disgust. "Like I'd tell you, you fat slob. You're no use to anyone like that, truly. How do you expect to help your father when he returns? Spit chocolate at him and hope that it helps increase his desire for vengeance?" The words were bitter and derisive as he turned his face toward the window.
"I just simply cannot believe you two are not more furious with Potter," he nearly spat the name. "He got our fathers sent to Azkaban, for Merlin's sake! And you two dolts just sit there like nothing has changed!"
For a moment, Crabbe and Goyle looked hesitantly at each other. Then, tenatively, Goyle began speaking. "It's just... everyone hates us, now that our families have been proven to support the Dark Lord. My mum says that Father was an awful fool to go getting caught, and deserves whatever comes to him."
Draco whirled away from the window, shocking the two others by pulling out his wand and holding it out in the direction of Goyle's throat.
His voice was utterly frigid when he finally spoke, "Are you attempting to say that my father is a fool, Goyle?"
Goyle was stupid, but not a complete lackwit. He shook his head negatively, his eyes wide with horror. "N..no! I w-would never say that about your father, or any Malfoy!"
Draco remained utterly still for a few moments, then put away his wand and relaxed in one swift, graceful movement. "See that you don't."
Crabbe reached nervously for another Chocolate Frog, but his hand was slapped away just before he touched it.
"No more of that. We have work to do."
* * *
"Have you talked to Dumbledore at all this summer, Harry?" Ginny's words were quiet but effective; everyone looked up from what they'd been doing and turned toward Harry.
Carefully he set aside the notes Hermione'd made that he actually had been looking at, and glanced around. The only students in the compartment were Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna Lovegood, who still hadn't set aside her copy of The Quibbler to listen. She'd invited herself to sit with the group of Gryffindors, claiming she had more in common with them than with the other Ravenclaws.
"What do you all think of continuing the D.A. and incorporating a select group of talented members into the Defense League?" Various exclamations of agreement and excitement followed his words, but his gaze focused on Hermione and Ginny, who'd remained silent. After a few moments, the others seemed to realize that there was a bit of thinking going on and they quieted, looking a bit baffled.
Two minutes later, Ginny began to nod thoughtfully. "I think it's a good idea. It will give students a chance to become part of the fight on their own, so that perhaps their parents won't be making their decisions for them."
Harry nodded, then looked toward Hermione, patiently awaiting her response. It came moments after Ginny's words. "Ginny's right in what she says... but I wonder if it's such a good idea to publicly claim that some will be members of the League itself. It leaves us open to betrayal. Not that I think that the concept isn't a good one. We would just need to be very careful to make it a school effort, not a House effort. Gryffindor alone should not be in control."
Dean looked a bit affronted and sat up straighter, "Then who should be, Slytherin?!"
Harry responded, his voice calm and quiet, without the emotion his fellow Gryffindor had used. "Yes, Slytherin. And Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. All of us. Not one House excluded or too powerful. United."
"That would leave us even more open to betrayal, Harry!" This time it was Ron speaking up. He'd never been a large fan of Slytherin.
Luna spoke up, her face still buried in The Quibbler. "Actually, it might. However, if you do not include everyone, then you face sending the other Houses to the Dark Lord's side merely because they feel that they don't fit in on ours."
Ron looked toward Luna, a bit stunned. Hermione smiled a little, and Harry nodded. "Precisely."
The compartment was quiet as everyone digested the comments, until Neville spoke up slowly. "So... Harry.. does this mean that you've already discussed this with Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry looked over at Neville, a bit surprised that he was the first to pick up on that. He smiled and nodded. "Yes, it does."
"And he thinks it's a good idea?"
Harry nodded once more, "He suggested it."
Ron gaped at Harry, "You're kidding! Dumbledore would never put us in a position where we might be harmed."
Hermione caught her breath as Harry seemed to become cold and still, and her gaze darted between the two boys until Harry finally spoke.
"I'm not kidding."
Ron narrowed his own gaze, then nodded slowly. "Alright then, Harry. So how do we start it?"
"It's already started!" Hermione spoke up indignantly.
"He means with everyone else. How do we start the meetings and give everyone a chance, as well as keeping it from seeming like a Gryffindor-run party." Luna's words were matter-of-fact, and Ginny couldn't help but grin.
"Luna, how do you manage to read and listen at the same time?"
Luna Lovegood looked up and smiled rather mysteriously, then returned her gaze to the magazine and turned the page without responding.
Dean shook his head and looked toward Ron. "So was that what you meant?"
"Yeah." Ron responded distractedly – he was busy giving Luna a glance that was somehow a cross between frustration and utter bewilderment.
Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew a few pieces of parchment, leaning forward to show them toward the group. "Here's how I thought we'd start..."
Everyone looked up as the curtain was jerked to the side and three wands faced the group rather threateningly.
"The first to move for their wand will regret it," Draco Malfoy's voice hissed at the lot of them. Instincitvely, the lot of them froze, most of them startled to realize that their wands weren't at the tips of their fingers. They hadn't used them all summer.
Harry stood slowly, facing Malfoy with hooded green eyes. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"You, Potter. To pay for what you've done to my father." He didn't even bother mentioning Crabbe and Goyle's parents.
Harry smirked a bit, lifting a hand to rub his moistened cheek. "You're spitting, Malfoy. Do show some manners, would you?"
Hermione tugged at Harry's elbow, hissing his name beneath her breath. "Harry! Don't provoke him!"
The Boy Who Lived straightened his shoulders and slowly held his arms out at his sides, not paying one bit of attention to Hermione's words. "You said you wanted me to pay, Malfoy. Well. Need I remind you that I'm standing right before you?"
Draco pressed his lips together angrily, then thrust his wand forward and cried out, his voice literally shaking with anger. "Crucio!"
Hermione screamed as Harry moved, so quickly it seemed impossible. The flash of green light that erupted from Malfoy's wand hit the ceiling as Harry's hand shoved his arm upward. His fingers curled around Draco's wrist, clamping tightly as he lifted his free hand and tugged Draco's wand out of his grip.
By this time every other person in the compartment had their wands drawn and pointed straight at the three Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco, then at each other. In one spectacularly coordinated movement, they turned and tried to leave, digging their elbows against each other as they attempted to go through the opening at the same time.
Harry laughed softly, causing his friends to shiver. He didn't sound at all like himself, and his amusement didn't seem the least bit funny. Still clutching Draco's wand, he released the other boy's wrist and stepped back, standing in front of his friends – all of whom still had their wands drawn and pointed at Malfoy.
Harry folded his arms and stared at Draco intently, who flushed and glared back, his gaze full of hatred. "Give me back my wand, Potter! Or I'll –"
Harry broke in calmly. "Or you'll what, Malfoy? In case it escaped your notice, you have no wands, no friends, and no father here to back you up."
Malfoy just glared at Harry, his hands fisted at his sides as he attempted to decide whether or not he ought to attack or retreat. Finally, Harry made his decision for him by stepping forward and holding out his wand.
"This is a one-time-only deal, Malfoy. Come at me again, especially with an Unforgivable Curse, and I promise you that you will live to regret it. I do this for one reason, and one reason alone. You support your father, and I find that loyal. However. Do not make the mistake I did; do not be so caught up in seeing what you want to see that you forget to see what actually is." Harry handed the wand out to a shocked Draco, who grabbed it up furiously, even more angered that Potter had the gall to give him back his wand, and the sheer nerve to try and tell him what to do.
Harry stepped closer, until he was almost on top of Draco's feet. That he was a few inches shorter than the other boy didn't seem to matter in the least as he whispered quietly, his tone full of a very real danger "Now get the hell out of my sight."
Draco remained still for a few more moments, his face becoming stone as his eyelids slid down to survey Potter disdainfully. Then he whirled, disappearing from the compartment, the curtain falling back into place behind him.
Harry stared at the spot where Malfoy had last stood for a few moments, then slowly exhaled and returned to his seat. As if on auto-pilot, the rest of them followed suit. Tenatively, Hermione reached out and rested her hand atop Harry's.
"Harry...?"
He smiled and turned his hand over, clasping hers gently and squeezing once before releasing it and picking the parchments he'd dropped up off the floor. "Now. Where were we..."
* * *
Long since having Sorted the first-years and allowed the entire student population to fill themselves near to exploding on the artfully displayed feast, Dumbledore finally stood up and faced the four House tables. It only took a few moments for the room to quiet as everyone focused on the Headmaster.
"I am afraid that I have a bit more to add to my initial remarks, which are as follows: As always, no students are permitted in the Dark Forest at any time. Also, the list of objects not allowed by Mr. Filch in school has again lengthened, and can be found posted up on his door. He has suggested that those who do not wish to feel his wrath get rid of the posted items immediately. He has also stated that he suspects the list will grow quickly should he find any of the Weasley's rather ingenious tricks being used in 'inappropriate manners'." Ron grinned a little, and Ginny smiled with pride as Dumbledore glanced in their direction. It was obvious to the entire hall that Professor Dumbledore thought the twin's inventions quite entertaining.
"It is also my pleasure to introduce Professors Nympadora Tonks, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year." The Headmaster paused for the light applause, then continued. "Now. I would like you all to please listen very carefully, for what I have to say is of the utmost importance." Dumbledore waited until the room grew quiet again, then continued on quietly, yet effectively. Every now and then his gaze bounced of Harry's, who nodded slightly in response.
"Our world has been turned upside down again since You-Know-Who's return. Muggles and Non-Muggles alike are in very grave danger. Most of you probably know what has been happening since the events of last spring, and as such you would also be aware of my intention of stopping You-Know-Who from causing so much destruction.
"But I am only one man, and I cannot do this alone. In the past, it has been my policy to never involve students in a fight which I considered beyond them – not something they should be worried about. I was wrong. The fact of the matter is that this war will affect you – each and every one of you. And as such, you have the right to be a part of it.
"This does not mean that I intend to send any of you to war. What it does mean is that I want you to prepare for it. This year, if you so wish, you will have the opportunity to learn how to fight. You will receive proper training, and shall be instructed on those situations in which your training will be effective, and when it will not. In addition, your ideas and thoughts on the upcoming battles will be treated just as importantly as any other adult's. You all matter. Your input and your strength will help show those afraid to step up and fight that courage is within everyone.
"When you return to your dormitories tonight, I would ask that students in years 5 through 7 who wish to be a Defense Representative for their House and, as such, part of the small group of students who will be responsible for teaching and guiding the rest of you in this endeavour – to place yourselves in the running. Do not do so if you do not support fighting against You-Know-Who. The rest of you - please do not choose the person who has the best grades, or who gained the most Quidditch points last year. Choose the person who has the strength, dedication and fairness to represent the rest of you. Choose someone you trust.
"All students will be allowed the opportunity to vote. Voting will be done by ballot, and shall be collected and returned to me for counting by promptly 10pm this evening. The results will be posted tomorrow here in the dining hall.
"Thank you for your patience, everyone, and have a good night. Prefects, please direct the first-years to their rooms." Dumbledore finally sat down, and the Hall exploded with noise as everyone reacted excitedly to the opportunity given to them.
"I didn't expect it to go over this well, "Hermione murmured quietly to Harry.
"I certainly did. Who wouldn't want to finally get a chance to learn something useful!" Ron's tone betrayed his excitement, and he even shot a grin at Colin Creevy, who was nearly bouncing out of his seat, proclaiming that he was going to vote for Harry.
Harry shrugged lightly and stood up, looking at his friends and speaking quietly. "I just hope they all understand how serious this is."
This time it was Ginny who spoke up, reaching out to touch Harry's arm lightly. "They will, Harry. You'll make them."
Harry forced a slight smile toward Ginny, then moved toward the door, "Come on. We have a meeting to attend."
* * *
At the other end of the hall, Draco Malfoy looked as if he wanted to kill someone – namely one Harry Potter, and quite possibly the gaggle of dutiful Gryffindors at his sides. It was fairly obvious that they'd been behind this little group of Dumbledore's – they'd remained completely unsurprised during the speech. And after all, he was aware that they'd already started doing such things last year.
It infuriated him, how Dumbledore was trying to turn the entire school into a bunch of mindless yuppies. He was right, and anyone who thought otherwise was wrong. Hogwarts was going to turn into the base for the Defense League, yet! Damnit! His father did not need so many people fighting against him.
Pansy Parkinson rested her hand lightly on Draco's shoulder, though she stepped back quickly when he stood abruptly and glared down at her.
"I – I didn't mean to startle you, Draco. We're going to go to the dorm now – you coming?" She eyed him speculatively, her slight fear at his anger seeming to have disappeared quickly.
Consciously, Draco rolled his shoulders back and smiled – well, smirked. His lashed lowered about halfway, and he gestured before him. "After you, my lady."
"You're too kind, Draco."
"My parents taught me manners, unlike many others here." His gaze fell momentarily on Crabbe and Goyle, who were busy shoveling all the brownies they could into their mouths before leaving the table. Pansy followed his eyes and chuckled softly in amusement.
"Speaking of parents, Draco – how's yours?" Blaise Zabini's sauve voice caused the other two to glance behind them. Typically, the other boy was leaning against a wall, posing as if he were a model. His cool blue eyes watched them as he smiled with false innocence, eager to see where his provoking would get him.
Draco turned slowly to face Blaise, and his features hardened into an incredibly polite facade. "Oh, I assume they're right where they want to be, Zabini. How about you? Heard you were dumped – again – this summer? How was that?"
Zabini straightened, the smile falling off his face as his cheeks colored with anger. "Watch your mouth, Malfoy."
Draco smiled slowly. Seeing it, Pansy shivered – it wasn't exactly a nice look. He stepped forward, until he was nearly on top of Blaise's feet. The two were about the same height, but Draco was just slightly broader – as if he had muscles, whereas Blaise didn't seem to know what muscles were.
The two boys remained utterly still for a few moments before Draco slowly reached up and brushed invisible lint off Blaise's shoulders, then patted the other boy's cheek firmly. "I'd be careful, were I you, Zabini. You're starting to look a disgrace. We wouldn't want to find that you had... changed... on us. Would we, Pansy?"
Pansy responded immediately, her green eyes wide. "No, of course not, Draco." Her voice was soft, trembling faintly. It seemed Malfoy intended to take Slytherin's stance on everything right from the start. She didn't envy Blaise.
Draco merely nodded – he'd never bothered to look at Pansy. He knew she'd agree with him. Most of Slytherin would. Partly because they agreed with him, but mostly because they were scared of him – or rather, his father. And he intended to keep it that way. His gaze remained locked with Zabini's, until the other boy nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor.
"You won't, Malfoy."
"Good. Crabbe, Goyle. Quit stuffing yourselves. We have a vote to attend." Draco stared at Blaise another moment, then turned and walked from the hall without a backward look, his two dutiful sidekicks scrambling to catch up with him.
Blaise ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, then looked back at Pansy. "Seems things haven't really changed."
Pansy was quiet a moment, watching the other Slytherins leave. Finally she turned her gaze back toward Zabini. "I wouldn't be so sure. Personally, I think things are going to be a lot more interesting, this year."
* * *
Summer at the Dursley's was about the same as usual, even though Uncle Vernon had been warned by Mad-Eye Moody and other members of the Order of the Phoenix to treat Harry well after his horrendous fifth year at Hogwarts. The only notable difference was that whenever he said that he didn't exactly think that his needs were being satisfied, Uncle Vernon had practically tripped over himself in his eagerness to lecture Harry about how wrong he was. However, every time this happened, he'd later find whatever he'd complained about left for him without a word. For example, he once complained that he didn't even enjoy eating his food anymore – they were all still on Dudley's diet, which seemed to contain only about one piece of lettuce and a carrot per meal. He was lectured on how unappreciative he was by Uncle Vernon, but when he went up to bed later there was an entire plateful of food sitting there, waiting for him. He tried to thank his aunt the next morning, but she just looked at him in an almost petrified manner and proceeded to ignore him.
The other good thing about this summer was that Professor Dumbledore didn't tell anyone to not tell him anything about the wizarding world. Consequently, he didn't have to hang around the Dursleys all the time, scrambling for news, or worry about being angry with his friends. In all honesty, they told him so much about the wizarding world that he began to wish they'd shut up a bit. Truly – why would he need to know the suspected color of Fudge's socks?
He never did say anything to Hermione or Ron about the overwhelming amount of information they sent him, mostly because he didn't want to disturb the balance they'd worked out between them. It had taken a good month or so for Hermione to stop questioning the state of his mental health in every other line, and just as long for Ron to feel comfortable writing about anything other than Quidditch and the twin's joke shop. He suspected it was because they just didn't know what to say to him.
Hell, he understood. It wasn't the first time he'd dealt with death – and he knew that it wouldn't be the last.. but... this was the first time it had been someone he'd known well and cared about. Harry would never be able to count how many times that summer – especially the first few weeks – that he'd sat down and started to write a letter to his godfather, or thought to himself how amused Sirius would be about some small incident or joke. It was those times – the times when he found himself acting as if Sirius were still around – that hurt the most. His heart would pound and his head would swim, and he'd just stand utterly still, his mind blank.
Fortunately, those moments were coming fewer and farther between. While part of him – the part that blamed himself for killing Sirius – hated that he was starting to accept it, the rest of him rejoiced because it was so much easier to just breathe now. He no longer felt like every breath was an act of sheer will, or that the only thing keeping him from screaming and throwing his fists against the wall was the mask he had to wear for fear of proving the Daily Prophet right – that he actually was off his rocker.
By the end of the summer, Hermione and Ron had reported that the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic had put their efforts together into forming the Defense League – a place for any who supported the fall of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. While still a relatively small organization –comprised mostly of the Order and the Ministry itself, its numbers increased daily as fear raced throughout the wizarding community. Currently, the Death Eaters Dumbledore had caught were still in Azkaban, but visits to the homes of officials at the Ministry by Dementors were becoming terrifyingly abundant.
Harry, himself, had had no such visits. His time was spent contemplating the prophecy that decreed he must either become a murderer or a victim, and he'd had to come to terms with how he was going to proceed with his duty.
He was anxious, infuriated, eager and horrified all at the same time. Yet he was ready to be a part of it all again. And prepared, he thought, for anything that might happen.
Of course, he wasn't...
* * *
"Harry!" The sound of his name stated almost in unison by three different voices caused him to smile and whirl around, releasing his cart to catch the small form that flung itself against him.
"Ron! Ginny! Hermione! How was your summer?" His arms closed about Hermione as he hugged her tightly, though his steady gaze met Ron's over her shoulder.
Hermione stepped back, her cheeks lightly flushed as she ran a hand through her tangled tresses. "Mine was quite busy. I've read up through quite a few DADA books, and made some sketchy lesson plans for you to use with the D.A."
Harry looked down at Hermione, his brows lifting in surprise even as Ron laughed and stepped forward to shake his hand. "Don't ask about it, Harry, please. Not yet. I've already heard the entire outline. Six times."
Harry grinned, releasing Ron's hand and reaching to hug Ginny, exchanging greetings with her before replying. "You poor thing, I feel so so so sorry for you."
Ron looked at him rather indignantly as Ginny chuckled. "You ought to! I also had to endure Mum's pining away for you all summer! 'Oh, poor Harry, I wonder if he's being well-fed. Oh! It's such a beautiful day, it's so sad that poor Harry can't get outside much.'" The words were spoken in a highly falsetto tone, at which Harry and the others laughed, until sobering quickly, their eyes widening.
Ron looked at the lot of them and groaned, his shoulders slumping. "She's standing right behind me, isn't she?"
"Right you are, Ronald Weasley! And I'm going to follow you to that school to ensure that you behave as a proper prefect should unless I get an apology from you this INSTANT!"
Ron rolled his eyes a bit, but murmured irritably "...Sorry, Mum."
"That's better. See that it doesn't happen again!" Mrs. Weasley's voice suddenly changed from Screeching Harridan to Weepy Den Mother. "Harry. It's so good to see you, at last. I hope you didn't fare too poorly this summer! I so wanted you to come join us at The Burrow, but Professor Dumbledore insisted that you were better off at home. Which is just rubbish, I know, but still – one doesn't go against a man like Dumbledore!"
Harry just smiled a little, a bit uncomfortable at being spoken to as if he were a toddler still in his nappies, but he was becoming more used to it now. Ron and Ginny's Mum cared about him, and he was grateful for it. He bent a little – he was now much taller than she was, though Ron still had him beat – and slipped his arms around her, hugging gently as he spoke quietly. "It's good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley. I wish I could have stayed at The Burrow, but I was alright at the Dursley's. And I'm okay, really."
She leaned back at stared at him a moment, then beamed, nodding. "Well of course you are! Strong boy like yourself, no reason why you wouldn't be!"
Ron just rolled his eyes again, and Ginny shook her head in mild amusement. Hermione piped up as Harry turned to grab his belongings once more. "We really ought to get on the train, especially if we want to get a compartment of our own so we don't have to split up."
"You're such a thinker, Hermione. What would we do without you?"
"Shut up, Ron."
"So Hermione, what did you have in mind for the D.A.?" Ron's strangled groan could be heard as he clamped his hands over his ears and glared in Harry's direction.
Harry grinned and made his way onto the train. It was good to be back.
* * *
"So, what are you planning, Draco?" Crabbe spoke to his fellow Slytherin around a mouthful of chocolate.
Draco narrowed his gaze, then turned away in disgust. "Like I'd tell you, you fat slob. You're no use to anyone like that, truly. How do you expect to help your father when he returns? Spit chocolate at him and hope that it helps increase his desire for vengeance?" The words were bitter and derisive as he turned his face toward the window.
"I just simply cannot believe you two are not more furious with Potter," he nearly spat the name. "He got our fathers sent to Azkaban, for Merlin's sake! And you two dolts just sit there like nothing has changed!"
For a moment, Crabbe and Goyle looked hesitantly at each other. Then, tenatively, Goyle began speaking. "It's just... everyone hates us, now that our families have been proven to support the Dark Lord. My mum says that Father was an awful fool to go getting caught, and deserves whatever comes to him."
Draco whirled away from the window, shocking the two others by pulling out his wand and holding it out in the direction of Goyle's throat.
His voice was utterly frigid when he finally spoke, "Are you attempting to say that my father is a fool, Goyle?"
Goyle was stupid, but not a complete lackwit. He shook his head negatively, his eyes wide with horror. "N..no! I w-would never say that about your father, or any Malfoy!"
Draco remained utterly still for a few moments, then put away his wand and relaxed in one swift, graceful movement. "See that you don't."
Crabbe reached nervously for another Chocolate Frog, but his hand was slapped away just before he touched it.
"No more of that. We have work to do."
* * *
"Have you talked to Dumbledore at all this summer, Harry?" Ginny's words were quiet but effective; everyone looked up from what they'd been doing and turned toward Harry.
Carefully he set aside the notes Hermione'd made that he actually had been looking at, and glanced around. The only students in the compartment were Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna Lovegood, who still hadn't set aside her copy of The Quibbler to listen. She'd invited herself to sit with the group of Gryffindors, claiming she had more in common with them than with the other Ravenclaws.
"What do you all think of continuing the D.A. and incorporating a select group of talented members into the Defense League?" Various exclamations of agreement and excitement followed his words, but his gaze focused on Hermione and Ginny, who'd remained silent. After a few moments, the others seemed to realize that there was a bit of thinking going on and they quieted, looking a bit baffled.
Two minutes later, Ginny began to nod thoughtfully. "I think it's a good idea. It will give students a chance to become part of the fight on their own, so that perhaps their parents won't be making their decisions for them."
Harry nodded, then looked toward Hermione, patiently awaiting her response. It came moments after Ginny's words. "Ginny's right in what she says... but I wonder if it's such a good idea to publicly claim that some will be members of the League itself. It leaves us open to betrayal. Not that I think that the concept isn't a good one. We would just need to be very careful to make it a school effort, not a House effort. Gryffindor alone should not be in control."
Dean looked a bit affronted and sat up straighter, "Then who should be, Slytherin?!"
Harry responded, his voice calm and quiet, without the emotion his fellow Gryffindor had used. "Yes, Slytherin. And Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. All of us. Not one House excluded or too powerful. United."
"That would leave us even more open to betrayal, Harry!" This time it was Ron speaking up. He'd never been a large fan of Slytherin.
Luna spoke up, her face still buried in The Quibbler. "Actually, it might. However, if you do not include everyone, then you face sending the other Houses to the Dark Lord's side merely because they feel that they don't fit in on ours."
Ron looked toward Luna, a bit stunned. Hermione smiled a little, and Harry nodded. "Precisely."
The compartment was quiet as everyone digested the comments, until Neville spoke up slowly. "So... Harry.. does this mean that you've already discussed this with Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry looked over at Neville, a bit surprised that he was the first to pick up on that. He smiled and nodded. "Yes, it does."
"And he thinks it's a good idea?"
Harry nodded once more, "He suggested it."
Ron gaped at Harry, "You're kidding! Dumbledore would never put us in a position where we might be harmed."
Hermione caught her breath as Harry seemed to become cold and still, and her gaze darted between the two boys until Harry finally spoke.
"I'm not kidding."
Ron narrowed his own gaze, then nodded slowly. "Alright then, Harry. So how do we start it?"
"It's already started!" Hermione spoke up indignantly.
"He means with everyone else. How do we start the meetings and give everyone a chance, as well as keeping it from seeming like a Gryffindor-run party." Luna's words were matter-of-fact, and Ginny couldn't help but grin.
"Luna, how do you manage to read and listen at the same time?"
Luna Lovegood looked up and smiled rather mysteriously, then returned her gaze to the magazine and turned the page without responding.
Dean shook his head and looked toward Ron. "So was that what you meant?"
"Yeah." Ron responded distractedly – he was busy giving Luna a glance that was somehow a cross between frustration and utter bewilderment.
Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew a few pieces of parchment, leaning forward to show them toward the group. "Here's how I thought we'd start..."
Everyone looked up as the curtain was jerked to the side and three wands faced the group rather threateningly.
"The first to move for their wand will regret it," Draco Malfoy's voice hissed at the lot of them. Instincitvely, the lot of them froze, most of them startled to realize that their wands weren't at the tips of their fingers. They hadn't used them all summer.
Harry stood slowly, facing Malfoy with hooded green eyes. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"You, Potter. To pay for what you've done to my father." He didn't even bother mentioning Crabbe and Goyle's parents.
Harry smirked a bit, lifting a hand to rub his moistened cheek. "You're spitting, Malfoy. Do show some manners, would you?"
Hermione tugged at Harry's elbow, hissing his name beneath her breath. "Harry! Don't provoke him!"
The Boy Who Lived straightened his shoulders and slowly held his arms out at his sides, not paying one bit of attention to Hermione's words. "You said you wanted me to pay, Malfoy. Well. Need I remind you that I'm standing right before you?"
Draco pressed his lips together angrily, then thrust his wand forward and cried out, his voice literally shaking with anger. "Crucio!"
Hermione screamed as Harry moved, so quickly it seemed impossible. The flash of green light that erupted from Malfoy's wand hit the ceiling as Harry's hand shoved his arm upward. His fingers curled around Draco's wrist, clamping tightly as he lifted his free hand and tugged Draco's wand out of his grip.
By this time every other person in the compartment had their wands drawn and pointed straight at the three Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco, then at each other. In one spectacularly coordinated movement, they turned and tried to leave, digging their elbows against each other as they attempted to go through the opening at the same time.
Harry laughed softly, causing his friends to shiver. He didn't sound at all like himself, and his amusement didn't seem the least bit funny. Still clutching Draco's wand, he released the other boy's wrist and stepped back, standing in front of his friends – all of whom still had their wands drawn and pointed at Malfoy.
Harry folded his arms and stared at Draco intently, who flushed and glared back, his gaze full of hatred. "Give me back my wand, Potter! Or I'll –"
Harry broke in calmly. "Or you'll what, Malfoy? In case it escaped your notice, you have no wands, no friends, and no father here to back you up."
Malfoy just glared at Harry, his hands fisted at his sides as he attempted to decide whether or not he ought to attack or retreat. Finally, Harry made his decision for him by stepping forward and holding out his wand.
"This is a one-time-only deal, Malfoy. Come at me again, especially with an Unforgivable Curse, and I promise you that you will live to regret it. I do this for one reason, and one reason alone. You support your father, and I find that loyal. However. Do not make the mistake I did; do not be so caught up in seeing what you want to see that you forget to see what actually is." Harry handed the wand out to a shocked Draco, who grabbed it up furiously, even more angered that Potter had the gall to give him back his wand, and the sheer nerve to try and tell him what to do.
Harry stepped closer, until he was almost on top of Draco's feet. That he was a few inches shorter than the other boy didn't seem to matter in the least as he whispered quietly, his tone full of a very real danger "Now get the hell out of my sight."
Draco remained still for a few more moments, his face becoming stone as his eyelids slid down to survey Potter disdainfully. Then he whirled, disappearing from the compartment, the curtain falling back into place behind him.
Harry stared at the spot where Malfoy had last stood for a few moments, then slowly exhaled and returned to his seat. As if on auto-pilot, the rest of them followed suit. Tenatively, Hermione reached out and rested her hand atop Harry's.
"Harry...?"
He smiled and turned his hand over, clasping hers gently and squeezing once before releasing it and picking the parchments he'd dropped up off the floor. "Now. Where were we..."
* * *
Long since having Sorted the first-years and allowed the entire student population to fill themselves near to exploding on the artfully displayed feast, Dumbledore finally stood up and faced the four House tables. It only took a few moments for the room to quiet as everyone focused on the Headmaster.
"I am afraid that I have a bit more to add to my initial remarks, which are as follows: As always, no students are permitted in the Dark Forest at any time. Also, the list of objects not allowed by Mr. Filch in school has again lengthened, and can be found posted up on his door. He has suggested that those who do not wish to feel his wrath get rid of the posted items immediately. He has also stated that he suspects the list will grow quickly should he find any of the Weasley's rather ingenious tricks being used in 'inappropriate manners'." Ron grinned a little, and Ginny smiled with pride as Dumbledore glanced in their direction. It was obvious to the entire hall that Professor Dumbledore thought the twin's inventions quite entertaining.
"It is also my pleasure to introduce Professors Nympadora Tonks, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year." The Headmaster paused for the light applause, then continued. "Now. I would like you all to please listen very carefully, for what I have to say is of the utmost importance." Dumbledore waited until the room grew quiet again, then continued on quietly, yet effectively. Every now and then his gaze bounced of Harry's, who nodded slightly in response.
"Our world has been turned upside down again since You-Know-Who's return. Muggles and Non-Muggles alike are in very grave danger. Most of you probably know what has been happening since the events of last spring, and as such you would also be aware of my intention of stopping You-Know-Who from causing so much destruction.
"But I am only one man, and I cannot do this alone. In the past, it has been my policy to never involve students in a fight which I considered beyond them – not something they should be worried about. I was wrong. The fact of the matter is that this war will affect you – each and every one of you. And as such, you have the right to be a part of it.
"This does not mean that I intend to send any of you to war. What it does mean is that I want you to prepare for it. This year, if you so wish, you will have the opportunity to learn how to fight. You will receive proper training, and shall be instructed on those situations in which your training will be effective, and when it will not. In addition, your ideas and thoughts on the upcoming battles will be treated just as importantly as any other adult's. You all matter. Your input and your strength will help show those afraid to step up and fight that courage is within everyone.
"When you return to your dormitories tonight, I would ask that students in years 5 through 7 who wish to be a Defense Representative for their House and, as such, part of the small group of students who will be responsible for teaching and guiding the rest of you in this endeavour – to place yourselves in the running. Do not do so if you do not support fighting against You-Know-Who. The rest of you - please do not choose the person who has the best grades, or who gained the most Quidditch points last year. Choose the person who has the strength, dedication and fairness to represent the rest of you. Choose someone you trust.
"All students will be allowed the opportunity to vote. Voting will be done by ballot, and shall be collected and returned to me for counting by promptly 10pm this evening. The results will be posted tomorrow here in the dining hall.
"Thank you for your patience, everyone, and have a good night. Prefects, please direct the first-years to their rooms." Dumbledore finally sat down, and the Hall exploded with noise as everyone reacted excitedly to the opportunity given to them.
"I didn't expect it to go over this well, "Hermione murmured quietly to Harry.
"I certainly did. Who wouldn't want to finally get a chance to learn something useful!" Ron's tone betrayed his excitement, and he even shot a grin at Colin Creevy, who was nearly bouncing out of his seat, proclaiming that he was going to vote for Harry.
Harry shrugged lightly and stood up, looking at his friends and speaking quietly. "I just hope they all understand how serious this is."
This time it was Ginny who spoke up, reaching out to touch Harry's arm lightly. "They will, Harry. You'll make them."
Harry forced a slight smile toward Ginny, then moved toward the door, "Come on. We have a meeting to attend."
* * *
At the other end of the hall, Draco Malfoy looked as if he wanted to kill someone – namely one Harry Potter, and quite possibly the gaggle of dutiful Gryffindors at his sides. It was fairly obvious that they'd been behind this little group of Dumbledore's – they'd remained completely unsurprised during the speech. And after all, he was aware that they'd already started doing such things last year.
It infuriated him, how Dumbledore was trying to turn the entire school into a bunch of mindless yuppies. He was right, and anyone who thought otherwise was wrong. Hogwarts was going to turn into the base for the Defense League, yet! Damnit! His father did not need so many people fighting against him.
Pansy Parkinson rested her hand lightly on Draco's shoulder, though she stepped back quickly when he stood abruptly and glared down at her.
"I – I didn't mean to startle you, Draco. We're going to go to the dorm now – you coming?" She eyed him speculatively, her slight fear at his anger seeming to have disappeared quickly.
Consciously, Draco rolled his shoulders back and smiled – well, smirked. His lashed lowered about halfway, and he gestured before him. "After you, my lady."
"You're too kind, Draco."
"My parents taught me manners, unlike many others here." His gaze fell momentarily on Crabbe and Goyle, who were busy shoveling all the brownies they could into their mouths before leaving the table. Pansy followed his eyes and chuckled softly in amusement.
"Speaking of parents, Draco – how's yours?" Blaise Zabini's sauve voice caused the other two to glance behind them. Typically, the other boy was leaning against a wall, posing as if he were a model. His cool blue eyes watched them as he smiled with false innocence, eager to see where his provoking would get him.
Draco turned slowly to face Blaise, and his features hardened into an incredibly polite facade. "Oh, I assume they're right where they want to be, Zabini. How about you? Heard you were dumped – again – this summer? How was that?"
Zabini straightened, the smile falling off his face as his cheeks colored with anger. "Watch your mouth, Malfoy."
Draco smiled slowly. Seeing it, Pansy shivered – it wasn't exactly a nice look. He stepped forward, until he was nearly on top of Blaise's feet. The two were about the same height, but Draco was just slightly broader – as if he had muscles, whereas Blaise didn't seem to know what muscles were.
The two boys remained utterly still for a few moments before Draco slowly reached up and brushed invisible lint off Blaise's shoulders, then patted the other boy's cheek firmly. "I'd be careful, were I you, Zabini. You're starting to look a disgrace. We wouldn't want to find that you had... changed... on us. Would we, Pansy?"
Pansy responded immediately, her green eyes wide. "No, of course not, Draco." Her voice was soft, trembling faintly. It seemed Malfoy intended to take Slytherin's stance on everything right from the start. She didn't envy Blaise.
Draco merely nodded – he'd never bothered to look at Pansy. He knew she'd agree with him. Most of Slytherin would. Partly because they agreed with him, but mostly because they were scared of him – or rather, his father. And he intended to keep it that way. His gaze remained locked with Zabini's, until the other boy nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor.
"You won't, Malfoy."
"Good. Crabbe, Goyle. Quit stuffing yourselves. We have a vote to attend." Draco stared at Blaise another moment, then turned and walked from the hall without a backward look, his two dutiful sidekicks scrambling to catch up with him.
Blaise ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, then looked back at Pansy. "Seems things haven't really changed."
Pansy was quiet a moment, watching the other Slytherins leave. Finally she turned her gaze back toward Zabini. "I wouldn't be so sure. Personally, I think things are going to be a lot more interesting, this year."
* * *