Prologue

As far as the rest of Hogwarts, if not the Wizarding World entire, were concerned Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had nothing in common. Complete opposites in looks, temperament, political leanings, heritage and mannerisms. The Prince of Slytherin and the Gryffindor Golden Boy were akin to oil and water. Peanut Butter and Sauer Kraut. Lime green and classic sports cars, or a combination of other such non mix-y things.

Those who knew the boys in question however, could tell the rest of Hogwarts, if not the Wizarding World entire, that this was in fact not true. That the pair had developed (friendship being perhaps too strong a word) a détente cordiale over the last two years. It had come about due to a variety of factors. Not least of which was their combined efforts to defeat Voldemort. With his Father in Azkaban and his flighty mother …. somewhere, Draco had taken it upon himself to set the world, or at least his own small corner of it, on its ear by coming out in open support of Voldemort's opposition. His extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts and his familiarity with Deatheater tactics would surely prove a great aid to the 'Light' side. His father, festering in his cell deep in Azkaban had been apoplectic when the news reached his ears. Disowning his only son and heir immediately.

Draco was unperturbed by this and the accompanying threats of doom, death and/or dismemberment. His only comment on the matter being how it was fortunate he had emptied the family vaults into his personal accounts prior to his change in status. He was now living year round at Hogwarts along with other members of Dumbledore's resistance efforts and at risk families.

As the War progressed. And declared or not they were indeed at war. And the Deatheater attacks became more prolific and vicious. The new Minister of Magic, Darrin McLeod, had passed several educational decrees. Which proved far more effective and better received than the ones Fudge had been doling out the year previous. Self defence classes, both magical and mundane were now mandatory for all students in their first year of secondary education and upwards. Sixth and Seventh years, being of an age where they were most likely to be actively recruited by either side for battle, would be given more tailored training in the areas most suited to their abilities and capabilities.

And it was through this that the heretofore seemingly inseparable Golden Trio was, well, separated. Hermione with her analytical mind and love of books was a shoe in for the 'Tactics and Research' training. Ron surprisingly had an affinity for healing and was studying 'Triage and Basic Healing' under Mme. Pomfrey's steely gaze.

Harry's training was rather grandly dubbed 'Leadership and War craft'. Only a select few were receiving this particular brand of training under Professors McGonagall and Snape, and in fact very few were aware the group actually existed assuming the five involved had taken it upon themselves to form some type of study group that just happened to comprise the five most powerful wizards and witches in Hogwarts, perhaps even the world. Either way after two years the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and two Gryffindors were rarely seen apart. While Harry, Ron and Hermione were drifting farther from each other with their disparate interests.

Susan Bones was the Hufflepuff. A merry little red head with a hug and a shoulder for any who needed. And even those who didn't. She was almost relentlessly cheerful and prone to giggles. And was known to be of the opinion that the only good party was one that lasted a week and involved police and/or Auror intervention.

Those who duelled her however soon found themselves up against the most powerful shielding they had ever seen and what could only be described as an affable implacability. An immovable object in a pair of Mary-Jane's. Harry had been surprised until he remembered the time he had met her Mother at his trail before the Wizengamot. Hannah was shaping up to be just as formidable, yet a great deal friendlier, as Amelia herself.

Neville was the other Gryffindor.

After the Ministry debacle in fifth year Voldemort commanded reprisals against the families of the DA. Neville's parents in their minimum security ward in St. Mungoes had made an easy and all to tempting target. They had been taken before Snape had been able to inform the Order there was a threat.

They had been returned a week later. Their torn disfigured bodies pinned to the hospital roof under a hovering Dark Mark. With a card to Neville sending Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange's regard. Bella had included a foil sweetie wrapper with the missive with the post-script that 'Mummy-kins did so want her Nevvy-darling to have one last gift'. And the sweet, bumbling, shy Neville of the past five years had been replaced by a grim, taciturn stranger. Armed with a new wand he had a vicious hand when it came to duelling and none of the students outside of their group would go against him anymore. And as a result of the training, a growth spurt, and boxing in his free time, he now cut an intimidating figure.

Gilraen Dubhan was the Ravenclaw. A striking looking girl with long black hair and steel grey eyes. She was surprisingly turbulent of nature for a Ravenclaw. For the most part she was a bit of a loner, her blunt speech and sarcastic demeanour singling her out from her austere peers. She could on occasion out brood Neville, out party (or at least drink) Hannah. She was in active competition with Draco, and Harry wouldn't discount Snape as well, for who could reduce the most first years to tears a day by acidic word alone.

And while her love for books outstripped Hermione's (she had been in 15 book avalanches since the start of her Hogwarts career and wasn't all that sure where the furniture in her room was anymore) she could match Harry when it came to sheer power. In fact the pair quite enjoyed duelling (the inattentive would term it trying to kill each other) and their battles had become stuff of legend. Though Harry wished Hagrid would stop fussing about them accidentally laying waist to half the Forbidden Forest during their last one. They didn't have anywhere else to go after what they had done to the East Wing of Hogwarts, though Firenze claimed the open outlook was advantageous to his class so it wasn't like there had been an upside to it all, and the fire's had been put out eventually!

The young Muggle-born had a typically Scottish sense of humour. A bit strange and sometimes dark and twisted. Recently the group Snape himself had dubbed the new Marauders had gotten illicitly drunk and someone had pondered aloud why Tom Riddle had come up with Voldemort as his nom de guerre. Gilraen had replied in perfect dead pan that 'Evil Lesley' had already been taken. This had struck them as hilarious and he had dim recollections of running through the school warning people about 'Evil Lesley' and screaming at shadows the 'Evil Lesley' was coming 'Watch out!'

When they had sobered up the next day. Coincidentally about the time they were attending their accrued detention. Gilraen had explained, while elbow deep in cauldron grime and ignoring Snape's 'Glare O'Death Mark 2', that Evil Lesley had in fact existed. Apparently it was the name given to the Wizarding Worlds first serial killer. The Muggles had called him Jack the Ripper.

When Harry took the time to consider his Marauders he was surprised at the word that came so easily to mind. Family. Even Draco over the years of training and fighting in the raids they took part in over the past year. They had all saved or been saved by the others at one point and he trusted them all implicitly. Theirs was a bond forged by shared combat and was stronger for it. Come what may they would stand together.

"Give them two paperclips, some caffeine and an hour and they'll either take over the world or level it!" Snape predicted dourly.

"They're the crème de la crème!" McGonagall pronounced.

Dumbledore just twinkled.

IBOD