My first crack at a HP fic. I dunno how it's gonna go. It'll be fairly grim. Not so much that I need to make it M-rated, but the themes are pretty dark.
Quick Summary:
It starts a week after the Triwizard Tournament, but in this universe Barty Crouch Jr doesn't reveal himself and stays hidden. Instead, he plans a very 'special' final exam for Harry and his entire class. Few survive, and the story focuses on those that do as they train to become an elite class of Anti-Dark Magic wizards using a highly untested form of magical booster. I apologize if your favorite characters do not survive the first chapter.
Pairings listed at end of the first chapter.
Before Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts hadn't suffered the death of a student in twenty eight years (which had been a Ravenclaw girl suffering a brain aneurysm). No one had been murdered since the first time the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.
Needless to say, the school was in shock. Diggory had been well liked by most in Hogwarts and his death came as as serious blow. However, Dumbledore and the staff thought it best to continue things on as normal despite initial inclinations to cancel exams.
Dumbledore had told the entire school Harry's story just days after the incident of the Third Task. He wisely thought that hiding the truth from the children would be of no use to them, and told them all that Lord Voldemort had returned. His words were crafted to ensure panic did not spread, telling the students that You-Know-Who was still weak and had few followers to his name. Whether or not this was true, the Headmaster did not know.
The teachers had done a pretty good job returning to a normal life in the classroom. Professor McGonagall was as no-nonsense as usual, Snape was still greasy, and Professor Moody seemed all the more instant on teaching them the horrors of the Dark Arts.
And that is where Harry found himself and his entire year; standing outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom waiting for the final exam.
"Why has the nutter gathered us all for the exam?" Came the obnoxious drawl of Draco Malfoy from somewhere in the crowd.
"Shut it, Malfoy. I'm sure he has a reason." Ron snapped from Harry's left.
"It is weird though, isn't it?" Piped up Hermione from behind Ron. "We've never had an exam like this. It's definitely not normal. Our entire year is here!"
"Yeah, but since when has anything about Moody ever been normal?" Harry said darkly.
As if on que, the door to the classroom opened up. Professor Moody stood there, glaring out over them all. "Get in," he barked.
It took a minute, but eventually the entire class filed into the classroom.
Harry entered and paused, surprised. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. The classroom looked…completely normal, albeit a bit bigger to accommodate the larger number of students.
"I was expecting a deadly obstacle course or something," Ron muttered to him as they moved further in. Harry had to agree.
Moody's deformed face broke into a grin. "It's time for your final exam. Take a seat."
Everyone found a seat. Harry found himself with Ron to his left and Terry Boot of Ravenclaw on his right.
Moody stalked up to the front of the table and waved his wand. The door to the classroom locked and a shimmery blue mist appeared in front of it. Seeing a few worried looks, Moody's grin became even more pronounced.
"Don't worry," he growled, his tongue darting out to lick a corner of his scarred mouth, "I just don't want to be interrupted. Also can't have any of you lot running out, that's an instant fail you know..." He craned his head to look around the classroom. "Now, there's a lot of you, so I'll make this quick."
The class was eerily silent as Moody licked the same corner of his mouth again.
"Your final exam…" the Professor said, unaware that his hair was starting to lighten as he raised his wand. "Is to survive."
For five whole heartbeats, no one moved. Harry was still processing this new information when Moody's wand slashed and the first jet of green light soared into the crowd.
Harry's eyes followed the curse as it hit Justin Finch-Fletchley square in the face. His head fell onto the desk and he did not move.
The first scream tore through the air as Harry jumped to his feet along with a handful of students around the classroom. He felt dizzy, as if it were a dream.
This can't be happening.
But it was. Before Harry could even draw his wand Professor Moody sent a vicious hex towards a group of students. Large gashes tore through their bodies. One was lucky and only had a deep wound in the arm, but the hex found the throats of two others - Lisa Turpin and Michael Corner - and they did not rise.
"Stupefy!" Thundered a voice from behind Harry, and a jet of red light flew towards Moody. Moody deflected it and sent another Killing Curse towards the caster.
"Good," The deranged teacher roared, his voice higher than Harry had ever heard it, "Fight back! Have you learned nothing? Refuse to be slaughtered!"
But Moody was too fast. Most of the class was still in utter shock as five, ten, and then twenty students fell to their deaths at the hand of Moody's quick spellwork. Harry saw Seamus Finnegan take a full blown Expulso to the face. Gregory Goyle lay spread eagled over his desk. Susan Bones had horrific cuts over her entire body as she lay still in a pool of her own blood.
Harry, Ron and Terry Boot had overturned their long desk and hidden behind it. All three boys were chalk white as the carnage stormed around them.
"What do we do?!" Terry squeaked, "he's going to kill us all!"
Harry realized Terry was looking at him. He's expecting me to know what to do, since I fought off Voldemort at the graveyard. A steely resolve filled Harry's stomach. He was not going to let this psychopath murder his friends.
"Fumos!" Came Hermoine's shrill voice from somewhere to his right, and he heard Ron let out a choked sob of relief. Harry felt similar relief. If she could speak, she was alive.
Thick, dark smoke began to fill the room. Moody paused his onslaught as visibility became near zero.
"Good!" He barked, and Harry realized he no longer sounded like Moody at all. "I shall give you two minutes to re-group. Use them wisely."
Instantly, panicked calls rang out around Harry. He recognized a few voices: Ernie MacMillan, Dean Thomas, Malfoy.
"To me!" Harry barked, and he heard the instant rush of footsteps towards him. Hermione, Malfoy, Mandy Brocklehurst and Anthony Goldstein joined them.
"We need to take that sodding psycho out," Malfoy whimpered, looking more shaken than Harry had ever seen him.
Harry looked around the little group they had and was relieved to see the steely resolve on Hermione and Ron's faces. They at least were no strangers to life and death situations.
"Ok, we need to all hit him with spells when the smoke clears," Harry said grimly.
"One minute!" Came the voice.
"That doesn't even sound like Moody," Terry said, pushing his thick glasses further up his nose with a shaking hand. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know, but Harry's right," Hermione said, wiping a stain of blood off her face. She surveyed their small group. "Whoever this is is a powerful duelist. We'll need all of us to take him down. Cast the strongest spell you know. We have about 20 seconds."
"I'm not exposing myself to him," Malfoy snapped.
"If we don't take him down we're all dead anyways," Harry snapped right back. "Don't be a coward."
"Time's up!" The voice roared. There was a slight hiss as 'Moody' vanished all the smoke, leaving the room wide open. Curses and hexes instantly flew from his wand, and a few more students fell.
"Now!" Harry roared. Him, Hermione, Ron and Terry sprung out and fired curses at Moody, but Mandy, Anthony and Malfoy seemed too scared or unwilling to join them.
Three Stunners and a whirling white hex Harry did not recognize went straight for Moody, but a strong shield charm from their ex-professor sent the spells flying harmlessly into the ceiling.
"I'm sorry," Mandy squeaked, still crouched behind the desk and hands over her face, "I couldn't do it."
Before Harry could respond, 'Moody' waved his wand and blasted the two desks that the group were hiding behind. Malfoy, Mandy and Anthony, the three behind the first desk, were sent backwards by the force of the spell. Malfoy was lucky and managed to get his arms in front of his face. He howled in pain as he slammed into the wall. Mandy and Anthony were not so fortunate and hit the opposite stone wall headfirst with a sickening, gut wrenching crunch.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Terry were spared the same fate when a quick Reducto from Terry reduced the desk to dust before it could hit them.
"Gosekki!" Snapped a voice from behind Harry, and a sickly pink cloud appeared around their attacker. A quick Bubble-Head charm rendered the unknown gas useless though, and he sent a Killing Curse in the direction of the caster. Harry looked behind him to see Blaise Zabini levitate a chair to intercept the Killing Curse, but the force of impact sent him flying back and out of sight.
"Incarcerous!" Ron bellowed, but Moody cast a well timed Diffindo and retaliated with another Killing Curse. They all leapt out of the way.
The onslaught of curses paused, and the surviving students were able to take a good look at their attacker. Gone was the fake eye and leg. Scarred skin had turned smooth, and patchy gray hair was now thick and blonde. A younger, handsome but slightly gaunt man stood at the head of the class, a maniacal glint in his eyes and an inhuman grin etched across his face.
Harry chanced a quick look around him. Half a dozen or so others besides his small group of four were still standing, but the quiet whimpers and moans of prone bodies showed that more were alive. They needed to act fast.
"Well," the man in front of them grinned, "aren't you going to attack me?"
No one did. Everyone seemed hesitant to fire a curse.
"No?" The man scanned the prone bodies and zoned in on a sobbing Tracey Davis, blood pouring from her side. "Avada Kedavra!" Tracy's sobs stopped abruptly.
"Come on, you cowards!" The man roared, "fight me! Don't sit here and let me annihilate your friends!" He turned to Vincent Crabbe, who was pointing his wand at him with a trembling hand. "Diffindo!"
A deep gash erupted in the boys neck and he fell to his knees, trying to staunch the spray of blood gushing from the open wound.
"Everyone, attack him!" Harry thundered, "Stupefy!"
Eight or so stunners flew at the murderer, but Fake Moody merely waved his wand and a large chunk of stone rose from the ground to intercept the spells.
"Not good enough! Not creative enough!" The man scolded, "you can't just sit there and throw spells at me!" He spun to Ernie MacMillan, "Expuslo!"
Ernie was more prepared than Crabbe had been. "Protego!" The shield charm blazed to life, and surprisingly repelled the curse back at the caster. Fake Moody jumped to the side but was still knocked off his feet by the blast.
"Incarcerous!" Hermione shrieked, sensing an opportunity. Ropes shot out from her wand and bound themselves around his feet, but missed his hands.
"Better, but not good enough!" Fake Moody snarled, slashing the ropes at his feet and felling two more people behind Harry with unblockable Killing Curses. "Do none of you have the stomach to do what needs to be done?!"
Hermione turned a panic-stricken face to Harry, "Harry, I think he means we need to-"
But Moody had seen her lapse in concentration. He whirled to face her and snarled out an "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry stood paralyzed as, if in slow motion, the jet of green light soared right towards Hermione. He was equally as helpless when someone tackled Hermione out of the way, taking the curse right in the back.
Ron Weasley fell to the ground, completely still.
Hermione scrambled to her feet. "No!" She shrieked. "Ron, NO!"
Harry stared at the body of his best friend in shock. Moody tried to take advantage of their distraction by sending another vicious severing hex towards them, but Ernie had their backs and casted another Shield Charm.
"Harry!" The Hufflepuff cried desperately, "Harry, do something!"
His cries broke The Boy Who Lived out of his stupor and a hot, unbridled rage like nothing he had ever felt before surged through him. He whipped around as Fake Moody killed yet another of his classmates and raised his wand. Power like he had never felt before flowed through him as he raised his wand. The words of their executioner rang through his ears.
You have to mean it.
"Avada Kedavra!" Harry roared, his gut rippling in morbid elation as the green jet of light flew from his wand right towards Fake Moody.
The man turned, wand raised. His face registered surprise as the jet of light hit him square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, and it was over.
For ten long seconds, no one in the room moved. The only sounds were from the sobbing Hermione and the faint noises of pain from a couple of the dying students on the ground.
The blue mist around the door evaporated, and Ernie MacMillan was the first to run to the door. "Alohamora," he said in a trembling voice. The door clicked open and he ran out into the halls. They could hear his shouts for help fading away as he ran.
"Hermione," Harry said in a low voice. The girl was still crouched over Ron, tears pouring down her cheeks, "we need to help the wounded."
But his words fell on deaf ears. Harry looked around the room. Blood was everywhere. A wave of nausea hit him and he bent over, vomiting heavily. He felt the presence of Dumbledore before he saw him. He heard the shattered gasp of the Headmaster as he surveyed the carnage. Then came the phoenix song, and the wonderful notes numbed the pain. Harry eventually found the strength to look up, and saw that Madam Pomfrey was there now, tending to a deathly pale but still breathing Neville Longbottom. Across the room, Terry Boot consoled a sobbing Padma Patil. A bloodied Blaise Zabini sat on the ruined floor, staring at his hands in shock.
The rest was a blur. He vaguely remembered being gently lifted up by someone and guided to the Hospital Wing. He drank something that tasted sweet and drifted off to sleep. The last thing he remembered was that the burning hate in him had not faded.
The Wizarding world was in chaos. Their attacker was identified as Barty Crouch Jr, a Voldemort supporter thought to have been long dead. Since he was killed by Harry Potter, there was no way to question the man.
The school year ended immediately, and for weeks the Daily Prophet headlines consisted of nothing but Ministry drama as enraged and heartbroken parents called for the sacking of Dumbledore or even closure of the school itself.
Despite Cornelius Fudge's initial reluctance to accept Lord Voldemort had returned, the portly man was forced to face facts after the slaughter. After finding significant enough evidence in Little Whinging, the Ministry sent Auror's out to begin learning what Voldemort was up to.
Eventually, once the shock had begun to fade a little bit, the Wizarding World wisely realized that Hogwarts was still likely the safest place for their children. The fact that Dumbledore assured the public that he would personally see to the fortification of the school probably helped.
"The school had seen peace for nearly fifteen years," the public reasoned with one another, "now that there's an active threat, there is no way anything bad will happen at Hogwarts."
So the school remained open, and Dumbledore remained Headmaster.
Harry Potter, crowned by haters as "The Murderer", was put under house arrest at Private Drive until his fifteenth birthday, after which he was moved to 12 Grimmuald Place. He was facing trial for using an Unforgivable Curse and for murder. Because it was in self defense, he was not expected to be sentenced, but the process of the trial was tedious.
Only ten students from the Class of 1991 survived the Hogwarts Massacre: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, Padma Patil, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy had vanished two weeks after the Massacre along with his parents, and it was thought they had fled the country after their son was attacked by Voldemort and his followers.
Padma Patil had also left Britain following the attack. Devastated by the loss of one of their daughters, the Patil parents had returned to their home country of India with their daughter.
The start of the next term grew near, and eight wizards or witches found a letter delivered to them by the Ministry, requiring their presence.
Hermione pushed a lock of frizzy hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. Her seat jostled as the subway sped through underground London. Her parents flanked her on either side.
The past two months had been horrible. She had been to more funerals than she had ever wanted to in her entire life, much less one summer. She had horrific nightmares almost every night and had been sleeping poorly. She also, perhaps worst of all, did not want to go back to Hogwarts. The thought of even seeing the place she had once thought of as home sent an irrational nausea through her.
"We're here, dear," Hermione's mother said kindly as the subway ground to a halt. Hermione nodded and mindlessly navigated her way through the crowds until they reached the civilian entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Before she knew it she was talking to a stern looking witch and was walking through an ornate set of doors.
It was bright in there, and it took as second for her eyes to adjust. The stone had an unnatural light to it, making her think of winter sun. In the room was a large, round table. A handful of people sat at the table, and a few more stood. She recognized Professor Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic. Seated at the table were her fellow survivors, minus Harry, Padma and Malfoy. Oddly, Ginny Weasley was also seated at the table.
"Forgive me, I hope I haven't kept you waiting," was the first thing Hermione thought to say as she took a seat next to Ginny.
"Not at all, Miss Granger," said the Minister kindly. He addressed the room at large. "Thank you for meeting with us here today," he started.
"It's not like we were given much of choice," Zabini said coldly from his seat next to Daphne.
Fudge looked like he had anticipated this kind of response, because he carried on swiftly, "I'm aware, Mr. Zabini, but trust me when I say it's for your own benefit. Now, with the next Year of Hogwarts due to start in a couple weeks, we need to decide what is to be done with you children."
"To be done with us?" Hannah spoke up. "What do you mean? Will we not be retuning to Hogwarts?"
This time Dumbledore cut in. "That certainly is an option, Mr. MacMillan. However, I suspected that some of you might have reservations of returning after what happened at the end of last year. Was I correct in assuming such a thing?"
Hermione found herself nodding along with everyone but Zabini and Terry.
"I see," Dumbledore's gaze lingered on the two aforementioned students for a moment, "Well then, it's time to discuss your options."
"Our options?" Terry piped up, "so we have other choices besides returning to Hogwarts or not?"
"Certainly," Dumbledore told him kindly, "Hogwarts is not the only magical school, Mr. Boot. Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons, and several other schools would be happy to accept students such as yourself." He peered over his half-moon spectacles at the group, "I think the real question is, what do you all want? It is your lives, after all."
Silence settled over the room. Hermione chewed over the question in her head. What did she want? Flashes of that day replayed in her mind. Stunners ricocheted off shields, a horrible feeling of helplessness. She was just about to open her mouth when an unexpected voice beat her to it.
"What I want?" Neville repeated sadly. His hand subconsciously traced over a large scar that ran from the bottom of his left cheek all the way up between his eyes up into his hairline. His eyes flicked between everyone in the room, and a dull flush crept up his neck at all the attention. He pushed through, though.
"I wasn't any help when…when it happened. I got cut early and was pretty hurt. I sat there and bled out while my friends fought and died. I wasn't able to do anything." His hands clenched on the table. "I don't want to feel that ever again. I want to be able to defend myself and my friends."
A weighted silence followed his words. Hermione realized he had articulated perfectly her feelings.
"Well said, Neville." Ernie said warmly.
Zabini, however, was not so impressed. His chiseled face was full of pure scorn.
"Something funny, Zabini?" Ginny snapped at him, noticing his reaction.
Zabini slid his eyes over to the bristling redhead. "What exactly are you doing here?" He asked her scathingly, ignoring her question, "If I recall correctly, there was a different Weasley in our year."
Ginny flushed angrily and opened her mouth, but Dumbledore interrupted again. "Miss Weasley has every right to be here, though her inclusion here was not initially planned by us." Ginny flushed even harder but maintained her defiant look, "Having turned fifteen a week ago, she is eligible."
"Eligible for what?" Daphne spoke up for the first time.
"Another one of your options," Fudge told them, "and, to better explain this option, let me introduce you to Ser North Gletchler." He gestured to one of the men standing next to them.
North stepped forwards. He was a tall, thin young man with shaggy brown hair and cat-eye glasses. He moved with an odd grace as he waved his wand. Papers appeared in front of all of them.
"What are these?" Hermione asked, reaching for the paper.
"Contracts that give your consent for us to Obliveate you if you choose not to take this option." North said in a noticeable American accent. "This is top secret stuff."
"And if we refuse to sign?" Terry asked curiously, already reading through the contract.
"You will be escorted out of the room while the rest discuss." North answered. He waved his wand again and quills appeared before them. "Hurry now, I don't have all day."
There was a scratching of paper on parchment as all eight teenagers signed the contract.
With another lazy flick of his wand, North retrieved all the papers. "Good," he said, "now, as Mr. Longbottom so elegantly put it, he wants to get stronger. I would assume you all want to see Voldemort defeated?" He ignored the flinch that went around the room,
"I know some of us do," Ginny said, shooting a dirty look at Zabini. The Slytherin bristled at her comment, but it was the other Slytherin that spoke up.
"You-Know-Who can rot in hell," Daphne snapped, "I know Slytherins get a bad rep, but we're not all evil. My family was neutral in the last war but you bet your ass they'll be against him after the Massacre. It's why Draco and his family went into hiding after the attack happened. You-Know-Who obviously doesn't care about any of his followers if he's going to order that."
A little more silence followed that.
"Fair enough," Hannah spoke up, eyeing the Slytherin girl like she had never seen her before.
Ginny wasn't as convinced, "and what about you?" She challenged Zabini.
Zabini didn't even bother looking at her, choosing instead to drum his fingers on the table as he stared at them. "I think Daphne makes some excellent points," he finally said.
"Moving on," North interjected swiftly, "the Ministry has been developing something for several years, and we believe we're ready to try it out." He paused, as if waiting for interruptions. When none came, he continued, "it is a Magical Receptor Enhancer Draught."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "A what?"
"You hear me correctly, Miss Granger," North repeated, a little amused at her reaction. "It's highly experimental, but I've been working with the Ministry of Magic on this since I graduated from Ilvermorny. We think we're ready to test it."
"What exactly is this Magical Receptor thing?" Hannah asked.
"It's, like the name suggests, a serum that stimulates Magical Receptors. In short, it makes your pool of magic stronger, and will hopefully give you a key to unlock your Advanced Magic."
Zabini straightened slightly, his bored look replaced by one of cautious interest, "Advanced Magic?" He repeated curiously.
"Yes, I believe that every witch or wizard has a form of Advanced Magic within them, but very few ever get the skill or knowledge to unlock it. Take your Headmaster, for example," North said with a respectful nod at Dumbledore, "his Disillusionment Charm is so powerful that it is in nearly undetectable. His Illusion Magic is second to none."
"What kinds of Advanced Magic are there?" Terry asked, his Ravenclaw brain already working itself into overdrive.
"We have no way to categorize how many there are. This is still a very untested area of magic with minimal research done on it. It is believed those who unlock their Advanced Magic will be incredibly proficient in certain types of magic. Illusion, Healing and Elemental are ones that we are fairly sure of, but there are definitely many more."
There was more silence as everyone digested this bizarre information.
"But...why us?" Ernie eventually asked, looking around the room at the others. "We're just kids. We're not Aurors or even fully qualified wizards."
"Good question," North nodded, "we have reason to believe the younger the patient, the better the results. It's easier to mold magic if its not fully developed. You're all old enough to make your own decisions. Given your unique circumstances, the Ministry has deemed it fit to accept you as the first test subjects, should you so desire it."
"Are there any side effects?" Hermione asked, "you said it was untested. Are we putting our lives at risk here?"
"There are no predicted side effects," North told her, "are any of you aware how Muggle vaccinations work?"
Hermione was the only one to nod her head, so North explained.
"I see, well basically Muggles inject themselves with a tiny bit of a disease. Their bodies are able to easily combat it since it's such a minimal dosage, and thus their bodies are prepared and able to easily kill it again when infected for real. Our experiment is a bit like that. At worst, we warn that the size of your overall magic pool could diminish slightly, but it will certainly be nothing life altering."
"Okay, I'll bite," Daphne said, "suppose we accept this, what happens to us? Do we return to Hogwarts?"
"No. If you accept this treatment you will be trained for battle. If Voldemort is really back we need specialized people to defeat him and his followers. All who accept will be taken to a separate location and train under me and several others. You will learn advanced spells, potions, battle techniques, and other things." He gazed sharply over all of them. "I will not lie to you, it will be a hard process, but after two tears of training you will likely emerge as some of the strongest people in Britain." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Assuming everything goes to plan, that is."
One person rose to their feet.
"I"m in." Neville said grimly. He looked more determined than Hermione had ever seen him.
"Me too." Terry said quickly, also rising.
Hermione thought if over, chewing her lip anxiously. Did she really want to become a, for lack of better word, soldier? Sure, she wanted You-Know-Who defeated, but was this the right answer?"
The memory of a flash of red hair and the sensation of being pushed surged to the front of her mind, and her eyes watered. Never again.
She found herself standing. "I'm in."
Ginny also stood.
That left Zabini, Daphne, Ernie, and Hannah. The two Hufflepuffs seemed to be communicating silently. After a few seconds, Ernie spoke up.
"I'm in."
"Me too..." Hannah said, looking a lot more hesitant than Ernie.
At this, Daphne also stood up. "Fine. I'll do this for my friends," she said, eyes flashing angrily, "hell hath no fury like a Slytherin scorned. They'll all wish I was dead when I'm through with them."
All eyes turned to the stand-offish Zabini. He was staring holes through North with slanted onyx eyes. After a long pause he finally said, "Guess I'm in." He did not stand.
"Excellent," North clapped his hands together. "You may go, Jethro." He said to one of the wizards standing with them. "Jethro is a master memory modifier," he explained to a few curious looks as Jethro left. "I was definitely not expecting everyone to be so on board. It's an awesome surprise."
"Hold on," Hermione said, "I still have a bunch of questions. When is this happening to us? Where will we be staying? What will our parents be told? And where's Harry?"
Dumbledore adressed Hermione with twinkling eyes, "Excellent questions as usual, Miss Granger," and Hermione reddened, "you shall be staying in a secure location in the countryside. As for when this is happening to you, I do not believe Ser North has set a date, but I imagine it will be within a couple weeks. Your parents will be told you are attending rehabilitation overseen by the Ministry to get over your traumatic experiences." The twinkle faded slightly from the old man's eyes, and for a moment he looked sad, "as for Harry, there is much I must tell him. That boy has complicated things immensely with his killing of Barty Crouch Junior. I expect his trial will take the better part of a year."
"A year?" Hermione repeated incredulously, "surely not!"
"I'm afraid so, Miss Granger. That is just the way of things," Dumbledore answered patiently. "Once the charges are dropped against him, Harry will most likely receive different training under me."
"Can't we receive training under you?" Terry asked eagerly. He seemed to realize what he said and awkwardly looked back at North, "err, no offense, sir."
Dumbledore looked slightly amused and a little flattered, "I'm afraid not, Mr. Boot. I possess knowledge that would only be useful to Harry. I'm sure you'll find that Ser North is a more than adequate teacher. I suspect he could give even me a run for my money with his proficiency in dueling."
The kids turned to look at North in shock, but the young American merely scoffed. "You flatter me, Dumbledore. I wouldn't last five minutes against you."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily, "Perhaps not, but five minutes is much longer than most men and women would fare, if you'll excuse my horrible arrogance."
A few chuckles emerged at that comment, Hermione included. It was odd to see Dumbledore like this, as a 'regular' wizard instead of a Headmaster.
North clapped his hands together, "Alright then, I think that's everything we need to discuss. I will ask the eight of you to reconvene here in three day's time. Go home and pack your things, say goodbye to your families. When you return we will Portkey to the location." He looked expectantly out over them, "Does anyone have any questions?"
No one did, so they were dismissed.
Hermione left her seat and headed out the door. As she embraced her parents she couldn't help but think…
What did we just commit to?
So there it is! Heres a couple of notes:
- We will be checking in on Draco and Harry throughout this story, but they likely won't be too important to the story until later on. Not sure if I want to do anything with Padma.
- PAIRINGS: Definitely Ernie/Hannah, maybe Neville/Daphne. VERY MAYBE Neville/Hermione. Not sure what I want to do with that yet.
- It will be explained why Ginny is there. I didn't add her there just cause I wanted her to be there and expect you guys to just roll with it.
- All eight people signing up for this will all be focused on and have a pseudo-POV.
So, did you guys like it so far? It's my first crack at anything Harry Potter so hopefully it's okay! Next chapter will be the eight arriving at the house. Not sure when it will be posted, hopefully in the next couple days.
Reviews are my addiction, and I also really want to know what I can do better since I'm so new to writing for this fandom. I'm open to suggestions :).
Ciao,
Knifez.