The Artifice of Night

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but this universe perhaps!

Summary: Harry was devoted to becoming a soldier to protect the empire—until he regains his memory of Lord Voldemort murdering his parents. On the run, he finds the haven known as Hogwarts, where he finds certain...distractions. But no one, not even Harry, can escape the Army unscathed…

A slave sold into the Army as a child, Harry has only known one thing: fighting. Although he wants to protect those dear to him, can he still fight for the murderer of his parents? But no one, not even Harry, can escape the Army unscathed.

Naru-chan: This story is definitely AU! Except...there's a ton of canon too, if that makes sense. You'll see! Also, please note the ships that I ship. They're, for the most part, canon. And while this might confuse you right now, you will see. Anyway, sit back, and enjoy the show!

Chapter One: Prelude

Where are we going?

It was the dream, Harry realized, in which he was a small child wearing tattered green robes. He stared up. There was a gentle hand holding his small, chubby one. It belonged to a woman… He could hear in the distance the graceful sound of church bells ringing. He turned his head to see the towering castle behind him. His emerald green eyes traced over the majestic stones and pure gold arches. He wasn't wearing glasses, oddly enough, but he could see that it was carefully decorated with beautifully sculpted designs. Somehow he knew it well, but didn't know it at all.

Harry, today you are going to meet two important people.

He turned back to the woman. He didn't know her…but she seemed so familiar, and he somehow knew she wasn't a threat to him. She had such a nice voice.

Who?

For some reason, he had slowly turned his head and stared forward. He could make out the outline of two people, a woman and a man, standing beside one another, but their outlines were all he could see – it was almost as if a white fog wrapped itself around them. It was strange. While he had never met the person holding his hand, or the woman and man in front of him, he felt so nostalgic…

The two most important people of your life…

"We, the elite students of the esteemed Military Academy Durmstrang, have been chosen to be potential soldiers to protect the Fort of Salazar," a distinctive voice loudly drifted over the thousands of listeners seated before the high platform.

The voice, ringing with importance and nobility, reverberated against the enormous auditorium. None of the spectators dared to ever whisper, and they hung to every sweet word that came from the mouth of the orator. All of them were boys or young men, and among them were several adults—mentors most of them. Their backs were as straight as pins, and their eyes focused on the speaker with rapt attention almost unusual for males of such age.

"Thus, let all of us become worthy fighters that will not blemish the name of the empire!"

With that last statement, the hall burst deafening applause. Draco Malfoy stepped away from the tall, gold-plated podium and smiled out into the crowd, a proud smirk on his handsome pale face. His silver blond hair was combed back so that it fell perfectly over his two ice-blue irises.

He donned the same spotless uniform as the rest of the students—a pair of ink black trousers and a matching tight and crisp coat. It buckled at the right side of his chest with two lines of silver buttons that went up all the way to his neck. To the sides over his shoulders were gleaming silver decorations along with the Academy's shimmering symbol: a coiling snake. He lifted his arm and swiftly adjusted his sleeve, which also was adorned with buckles and embroidery that matched the identical silver embroidery that trailed up where his coat buckled. He wore raven boots that gleamed under the light around him. Indeed, Draco Malfoy did wear the same uniform as his other select peers—except for the single unique crest that graced his left arm: his family's crest.

The students began to file out of the huge auditorium, chattering relentlessly. It was an enormous contrast with their behavior while listening to Draco. Further down the hall, a group of boys stopped and waited as they spoke.

"Just as you'd expect from Draco!" a bulky brown-haired boy laughed enthusiastically. He had a broad face, broad shoulders, and a broad waist. He was a mass of muscle, and he intimidated anyone he could lay his hands on. Still, at the very mention of Draco, his face would melt into an expression of pure awe and adoration. "Using all those words! Right, Crabbe?"

"Right, Goyle! He is, after all, the most popular student in our class," a taller, but equally bulky boy pointed out with admiration. He looked less immediately intimidating than his friend, but when his face was contorted with rage, he was no laughing matter. His focus was brute strength rather than cunning wit.

"What else do you expect from the son of Commander Malfoy?" a tall, thin ebony-skinned peer smirked coolly. He eyed the two large boys with a slight distain. He, Blaise Zabini, utilized his brains rather than his muscles. Indeed, he was a very slim boy. The skin wrapped tightly around his cheekbones, giving off an air of high-class elegance and perfection.

"He lives up to his name," a shorter, skinny boy with a slick mob of dark brown hair said calmly. He spoke tersely, choosing his words carefully.

Theodore Nott had long ago learned from his father that words could and would be used as weapons, so he used them sparingly whenever he must. His hooded eyes flickered over the crowd of students. He would much rather disappear into the shadows than be with these three. Not that he minded Blaise too much. It was just the loudness and stupidity of the other two that made his pale white skin crawl. Still, he would wait, for he knew that he would soon be seeing the one person that he talked the most to.

"Of course, Theodore," a voice said. Theodore turned around as a sly smile grew on his face.

"Ah—Draco!" the tall boy welcomed the newcomer. "Great speech."

"Thank you Blaise," Draco smiled icily. Then his ice-blue eyes caught sight of a student and they narrowed with a glint of malice.

In the mass of students now leisurely chatting in the hallway, one figure marched stridently through them. The clicking of his shoes was the only sound that he made.

"My, my, it's our lucky day," Draco drawled mockingly. "Look who has graced us with his presence. It's Headmaster Slughorn's favorite student. Morning, Harry!"

The raven-haired boy ignored the shout and continued on his way. His black boots drummed against the marble floor. He adjusted the white file in his arm before pushing the thin black pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Hmm," smirked Draco as his friends glowered after the boy. "He's looking as cheerful as ever."

"Doesn't even say hello," growled Gregory Goyle, the hulking boy. His tanned face twisted with anger. Vincent Crabbe, the other massive boy grunted in agreement. "His arrogance just makes me want to…"

"Now, now, Goyle," Draco mollified his friend by simply raising a pale hand. His eyes remained on the retreating boy. "We must know how to treat the…'special' people, if you know what I mean."

Click, click, click.

"Ah, so that's the exceptional 'Special Student,'" one of them whispered as he passed.

Click, click, click.

"Are you sure that such a shrimp is capable of keeping up?" another voice hissed.

Click, click, click.

"You know what I heard?" yet another voice sneered snobbishly. "I heard that he used to be a slave! See his uniform? He doesn't have a family crest!"

Click, click, click.

"Ha ha ha! No way! Shhh! He'll hear you! You better watch out. Maybe he'll get Slughorn to expel you!"

Bastards, Harry thought, refraining from letting his mouth curl up into a furious sneer. They knew all too well that he could hear every single word. He knew he shouldn't let them get under his skin, after dealing with their mockery for so long, but he found it harder and harder.

"Hey, hey, famous Master Harry, wait up!" a hand touched Harry's shoulder.

"Don't even, Ron!" Harry's arm moved so fast that Ron Weasley barely dodged his punch. The redhead's face lit up instantly as Harry's emerald green irises glared at him.

"Wow!" laughed Ron, running a coarse hand through his ginger locks as his freckled face broke out into a wide grin.

He was lanky, fully equipped with long and thin arms and long and thin legs. He could be considered handsome, but it wasn't quite the right term to use to describe his appearance. He most certainly had enough height. What kept him away from this word, however, was the boyish charm that exuded from him. There was innocence in his bright blue irises and unevenness in the atmosphere around him, as if he were a mixture between silk and cotton. Harry could never quiet put his finger on it.

"You knew it was me?"

"How can I not?" Harry sighed exasperatedly while adjusting his collar. "You've been my best friend for three years and I—ack! Oh, sheesh!"

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, his eyes blinking at his friend.

"Look, how many times do I have to tell you?" Harry hissed, his green eyes glaring at the other boys in the corridor. "Stop acting so…friendly toward me. It'll only get all these other blokes talking about you, just like they do me. Next thing you know, they'll be spreading rumors."

"So?" Ron shrugged, throwing an arm around Harry's neck and dragging him along. He was thin, but he wasn't weak. "It already pisses me off that they badmouth you. I could care less if they do it to me. C'mon, let's go to class before we're late. Today Professor Snape—"

"Erg," Harry groaned, slipping out of Ron's tight hold.

"My sentiments exactly," Ron agreed. "Anyway, today he's going to probably give us a few words of encouragement before we enter the exam."

"Oh…so the usual, eh?" Harry grinned.

"You bet. 'I beg of you…just forget your wand,'" Ron mimicked in a low, spiteful voice. His entire face fell as he gave Harry a look of evil. "'And if you go…'"

"'Don't come back,'" Harry copied Ron's tone and demeanor. The two of them burst out laughing as they entered their classroom.

"If you two goons would kindly take your seats," a deep voice drawled. Professor Snape loomed before them. Harry wondered if he would ever meet a more depressing and evil person.

Snape had long, shoulder length black hair that was greasy and looked as if it had never been washed. Harry always had this huge urge to pull out his wand and do it for Snape, but he highly doubted that Snape would appreciate the sentiment. His face was an appalling pale—as white as chalk Harry liked to think—and it clashed horribly with the two empty black holes that were his eyes. He had a long, pug nose that seemed to stretch on and on and descended like a hawk's beak over his thin lips. Not only that, but he donned large and flowing black robes. He honestly looked like a hole of black in the middle of the white room.

Snape had never liked Harry. Harry thought it was probably because on the first day of class, he had accidentally set his teacher's robes on fire. While it had not been his intention, he certainly didn't regret it too much. Still, Snape was the Dark Arts teacher so Harry had no other choice but to learn from him. After all, it was Harry's goal to become one of the soldiers that protected the empire.

"I'm sorry if you had expected…special treatment from me," Snape said emotionlessly, pausing to let the other students to laugh, "but I'm afraid you two are late. No favoritism… Not even from the Headmaster can change that fact."

Harry bit back a retort, knowing that Snape was deliberately trying to draw something out of him. He wouldn't give him that pleasure. Instead he nodded curtly and pulled Ron, a bit violently because the redhead was flushed to his ears, toward their seats. Harry shot him a look. Ron bit his lower lip brutally for a second, before he released the poor strip of flesh from his hold and sighed. His resentment had drained away.

"Don't worry," Harry quietly reassured him. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, well," Ron said gruffly, dragging his chair noisily across the floor, much to the annoyance of Snape and the others. "I hate it when he says crap like that. The bloody—"

He was cut off, however, when the door swung open to reveal Draco, with his pointed nose leading the way. He, along with Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott, entered the room. They didn't attempt to move quickly or softly. They continued their conversation and their boots clanged against the floor, but Snape did not even glance up.

A feral growl arose in Ron's throat as his eyes threw daggers at the incoming group. "And he speaks so haughtily about special treatment."

Snape had never made it a secret about his favoring the blonde boy. Since the first day, he had seemed to decide that Draco possessed something that the others didn't and it was something that needed a bit of help before it flourished. Harry supposed Snape's deep connection with Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy, probably had something to do with that prejudice.

"Now, as you all know, tomorrow is your final exam," Snape drawled. Harry stifled his need to yawn, and furiously blinked away the tears that welled up at his eyes. Snape was never a very good public speaker. "It has been brought to my attention that certain very esteemed people will be observing."

"Is it true that they're here to recruit you, Draco?" Goyle asked eagerly.

"Oh, well," Draco laughed. Harry could have sworn that his nose grew several inches. "My father has mentioned something here or there, but I wouldn't go as far as to say that."

"Attention," Snape said, but a glimmer of a smile as on his lips. "That being said, I wish some of you," he took this moment to look at Draco, who was positively beaming, "the best of luck. However," he said sharply, his narrow eyes sliding over to the corner where Harry and Ron sat, "I beg of you…don't bother going because you are most certainly not prepared nor ever will be. And if you do go…don't come back."

The class began to snicker as Snape had the same trace of a smile on his lips, but it was a smile touched with wicked glee rather than of affection. Harry took this time to examine the tips of his bangs. He was trying to find any split ends, but so far had been unsuccessful.

When they finally filed out of the room, Ron stretched his long arms above his head with a grunt. Harry smiled at him. The two of them stopped in front of a huge window, where the sun flooded them with light and warmth.

"Glad that was over!" Ron sighed. "At least now I'll never have to see his slimy face again."

"You shouldn't let him bother you anymore," Harry said, his eyes trailing over the black designs on the sides of the walls. "We just have to worry about tomorrow and then…"

"And then I'll be able to finally be a soldier and fight for the empire!" Ron laughed. His face crinkled with happiness. "I'll be able to protect my family." There was a moment of peaceful silence before, his brown eyes gazing far beyond the blue sky, Ron murmured absently under his breath, "I'll be able to protect everyone…"

Harry smiled wistfully at the redhead. He had never actually met Ron's family, but he felt like he had from all that he had heard about them from Ron. If anything, Ron was an adamant family man. He had grown up in a loud, bustling family brought up by two loving parents. He was also the youngest son of six.

There was Bill, the amazing curse breaker, who was the oldest and the boldest. He had a yearning for a bit of adventure and a bit of glamour, which probably explained his long hair, fang earring, and taste in women. There was Charlie, the brave dragon tamer, who faced everything with a grin on his face and a gleam in his eye. Then perfect Percy, who Ron described as practically Obsessive Compulsive when it came to neatness. He worked behind the desk for the army where he could file and organize and feel important by making connections with all the "right people" as much as he liked. Following him were Fred and George, the twin troublemakers (or devils, as Ron called them), who defied everyone's wishes and expectations and built a quaint joke shop, nearly giving their mum a heart attack in the process. And then there was Ron, who had forged his path on his own despite all the pressure and all that he had to live up to. Harry felt that perhaps Ron was the noblest of all. The path he had chosen was not as exciting as Bill's job, as thrilling as Charlie's, as rewarding as Percy's, or as downright fun as Fred or George's. He devoted everything he had to his training so that he could proudly protect the ones he loved.

Harry didn't like to think about it, but Ron's motivation was perhaps created the day his younger and only sister was killed.

Ron didn't like to talk about it, and Harry never pried. However, one night two years ago, Ron had received news that his brother Charlie had been severely hurt while taming a particularly wild dragon. He was not, however, permitted to leave the school to wait with his family at the hospital. No one was ever allowed to leave the academy unless it was a designated day. Not even if a family member died.

That night, Harry bought some Firewhiskey so that the two of them could get drunk. In a way it helped, for when Ron was drunk he didn't have to think. Too much, anyway. And while Harry knew he would have a terrible hangover the next morning, he didn't care. Ron needed him and that was all that mattered.

The two of them had been terribly drunk and laughing horrendously over a lame joke that had seemed so much funnier than usual, when Ron suddenly went quiet. He had glared unsteadily at the bottle before taking a large swig.

"It was my fault you know," he had slurred. Harry had not known what Ron was talking about. "I was s-supposed ta look after 'er… But I got angry ov'r sumthin' stupid 'n' left 'er alllll alone." He let out a watery laugh. "Sumthin' soo stupid I don' ev'n 'member what it was! I don' 'memb'r the reason I lef' my sist'r 'n the woods! Didn't care when she cried! Those huge sparkly tears fr'm 'er purty brown eyes… S-Served 'er r-right, I'd t-thought! Her b-big broth'r W-Wony. She c-couldn't ev'n say my n-name yet!" Ron had covered his flushed face and pressed it against his knee. "I l-let 'er die. I k-killed her!"

"Ron!" Harry had grabbed Ron's shoulders and had shaken him. "It's not your fault! You weren't the one who did it."

Ron hadn't been the one who had preformed the Killing Curse.

"I m-might as well have," Ron had sobbed, his hands grabbing Harry's shirt and balling the cloth under his shaking fists. Hot tears burned at his bloodshot eyes. "I c-couldn't save 'er! Oh God…I don't want Charlie to die, Harry. I don't want any more of my family to die!"

Ron had fallen into a fitful sleep that night, but Harry had not. He had sat up, watching the stars for a very, very long time.

He now blinked away the past and watched his friend smile at the window.

"You know, I heard that the test is actually very dangerous," he said suddenly. "People have died, apparently."

Ron stared at Harry for a moment before he bowled over, clutching his stomach. "Ahh! Stomach ache!"

"Yeah, yeah, Ron," Harry laughed.

"Well, as long as we're not fighting against spiders," Ron said, shivering at the very thought of it. He had a rather severe case of arachnophobia. Harry hid a snicker behind his hand. He remembered two years ago when they had to travel into The Forbidden Forest and faced off the gigantic spiders inside along with other dangerous beasts. "But hey, if we survive tomorrow, then we'll be able to celebrate your seventeenth birthday!"

"You don't need to do that," Harry said, a funny look on his face. "How many times do I have to tell you? My birthday's not important. In fact, I'm not even sure what day it is…"

"Don't be silly," Ron scoffed. "Your birthday is a very important day! It's the day you were born. Of course we should celebrate…"

Harry smiled a bit sadly at his best and only friend. Never before had he rejoiced the day of his birth, which he wasn't entirely sure he knew, until he met Ron. When he first met the redhead, he had no friends and had no intention of making Ron one, but Ron had been unyielding, and finally Harry's defensive walls crashed down.

"You know what else I heard?" Harry asked, his voice full of mischief. Ron turned to him curiously. "I heard that the Military Academy Beauxbaton will be supervising our examination…"

"So… You don't mean…" Ron stuttered, his face instantly flooding with color.

"Yup," Harry chuckled, entwining his arms behind his head. "Her-mi-o-ne."

He watched in amusement as his best friend glowed even brighter, if possible.

The first time he met her was when a troll had been accidentally released inside the Academy the first year of his arrival. On holidays, the girls would come to the feast and mingle with the boys. However, Harry had been in a particularly foul mood that Halloween night. Someone—Draco Malfoy—had discovered that he, Harry, was indeed a slave, a class lower than low. Surely now, he had thought, Ron Weasley, the adamant redhead would no longer wish to try to be his friend. As much as he hated to say it, with all the pushing away he had done, he found that thought extremely depressing. He didn't mind what the other blokes thought or said about him, but Ron had been the first friend he had ever made—sort of made, anyway. And now Ron was gone.

So tortured by these thoughts, Harry hadn't wanted to face Ron at the feast. Instead, he spent his time wandering the halls. He hadn't heard about the troll and so had not known that his safety was in jeopardy. When he heard a sudden shriek, he had instinctively run toward the sound. It had sounded like a girl's voice! He halted right in front of the second floor's girl's lavatory. Certainly…he couldn't…he couldn't enter here. But the second scream of terror made him forget all about this embarrassment, and he reached for the door handle to shove open the door, when a cry stopped him.

Ron, his face flushed from running, and his breath short, had stared at him with wide-open eyes. "What…what are you doing?"

Harry had felt color flood his face and gaped right back at Ron. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been looking all over for you!"

"You shouldn't have…"

"Look, I don't give a damn about your past, Harry! You're my friend. Nothing can change that! Get it through you bloody thick head! I'm here to stay!"

"Ron…" Harry had choked.

Another bloodcurdling cry came from within the girl's loo once more. This time, Harry pushed open the door. His eyes widened. A huge, ugly green troll, its lumpy club in its hand, slowly turned around to stare at him stupidly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a small figure buried underneath the shattered wood that Harry supposed had once been the stalls. The figure moved, and Harry saw terrified brown eyes staring up—but it wasn't at him. No, it was at the figure to his right. He hadn't realized that Ron had moved beside him.

The rest was history. The two of them had fought the troll, but not without the girl's aid. She told them what spells to use. Afterwards, while Harry wiped the troll's bogey's from his wand (a very long and complicated story), they had introduced themselves. Whenever there was a get-together between the two military academies, the three of them would be seen together, conversing happily.

"R-Really?" Ron's face broke out into Harry's favorite grin. He looked like a kid who had just received an unexpected treat. It was no wonder that Ron's Patronus was a Jack Russell, a loyal dog. "Not that I…particularly want to see her or anything…I mean, she's always scolding me and telling me what to do, and she's so annoying! I really don't want to see her!"

The smile on his face said otherwise.

"Whatever you say, Ron."

"Erm…you don't…you're not eager to see her, are you?" Ron asked, his blue eyes flickering away momentarily and his smile faltering. Harry watched his friend closely.

"If you're asking whether or not I fancy her…" he said carefully. Ron's eyes immediately locked with his green ones.

The image of the bushy chestnut haired girl formed in his mind. Hermione Granger wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, but she certainly wasn't ugly. She was terribly intelligent. Harry had never met such a well-informed or educated girl aside from her—in fact, he didn't know that many girls at all. The truth was he didn't fancy her. He liked her. He definitely liked her. And he was forever grateful to her. What had happened in that first night had made him realize that Ron was sticking by him, through thick and thin. It had been the catalyst in their friendship because Harry stopped pushing him away—too much, anyway.

But Hermione was more like another comrade than a real girl to him. And even if he did fancy her…he'd give her to Ron in a heartbeat. Harry smiled at Ron's serious expression. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no, I do not."

"Oh," Ron said, relief evident all over his face. "Not that I care. I mean, if you did, it wouldn't mean anything. It's none of my business or anything. It's just that if you liked anyone, it would be nice to know. Being your best friend and all."

"I don't particularly fancy anyone," Harry said idly, his emerald irises scanning the crowd of flowing students. "There are more important things on my mind. Though, I must say that Cho Chang is very…attractive."

"Too bad she's dating that older bloke, Cedric Diggory," Ron said sympathetically.

"Come on," Harry said, patting his friend's arm with a smile of his own. "Let's go practice so that we don't make a fool of ourselves in front of any girls."

"That would be nice," Ron muttered under his breath.

As they walked outside into an empty courtyard, Harry squinted up at the sun. He always preferred the darkness of the night to the brightness of the day. It was easier to hide himself—he had a habit of creeping about the Academy at night, when he could not sleep. Still, it wasn't as if he disliked the sun. He just felt…that something was always off. He couldn't explain it, but that was the way he had always felt.

Ron stretched his neck and then settled into a hunched stance, his blue eyes watching Harry humorlessly. "Ready?"

Harry, falling into a stance of his own, nodded curtly. They bowed to one another before they were off. Before Ron could even move, Harry was behind him, his wand tip aimed directly at his friend's neck. The Jelly-Legs jinx flew from his wand, but Ron had jabbed his arm up, forcing Harry's wand to aim upward. Not the least bit deterred, Harry was down, his hands bracing him against the ground, as his long leg swooped under Ron's, causing the redhead to tumble to the ground. Ron simply rolled away swiftly before pushing himself up onto his feet. He was thin and awkward at times, but not when he was battling.

"Stupefy!" Ron cried with his wand aimed at Harry.

"Attack me seriously, Ron!" Harry called out as he dodged the red light fluidly. He felt himself grin as his legs carried him swiftly around the courtyard.

The two of them didn't really need wands. They could easily perform wandless magic, but using wands was for safety. It lowered the effect and impact of the spells. The two of them used their magic, but usually they did not, for it was simply too easy to dodge one another. Especially for Harry.

Deciding to become more serious, Ron shoved his wand back into its holster before concentrating. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched a light blue glow surround Ron. Quickly, Harry's fingers wound the tight wire rope from his belt with his fingers and flung it upward, watching the sharp blade at the end of the wire catch hold of a protruding slab and the wire wrap around it. With a quick tug, he was off in the air, narrowly missing the rush of water that flew from Ron's hands.

His feet solidly placed against the stone walls, Harry idly wondered if he would be hindered tomorrow because he didn't know his power. Nearly everyone in the Academy had one. Of course each and every one of them could perform magic—that was nothing special. Only, aside from wands and potions, most people possessed another talent or skill. A psychic's power, for example, would be to predict the future. Ron had the ability to utilize water. Everyone's power was different. It usually reflected the nature of the person. To make up for his undiscovered power (for his mentors insisted that, for someone with such raw power, surely he had one), Harry had been trained extensively to use his body and tools to make do.

Pulling again at the wire, it unattached itself and flew back to his hands. But as it did so, he began to run against the walls, missing the blasts of water Ron shot his way. Suddenly, Harry leapt from the wall, right above Ron, his foot pointed toward Ron's face. Not to be outdone, Ron grabbed hold of Harry's foot and winced as Harry's boot drove him slightly back, despite his braced pose. He then shoved Harry away from him.

Harry flipped in the air before landing gracefully on the ground. Then he shot forward, two gleaming silver dangers in his hand. Ron's sword was out of its sheath in a flash, temporarily blinding Harry with its bright reflection of the sun. The clash of steel against steel was almost unbearable, but the two of them were very familiar with the sound. Harry now held his two daggers up in a crisscross position, holding off Ron's sword. Their weapons, arms, and hands shook as they pushed toward one another.

"Heh," Harry smirked, feeling the sweat form at his brow. He hoped that it would not trickle down and momentarily blind him. His mind raced. Apparation was out of the question, of course, since it was forbidden on the grounds. Besides, it always put the person at a disadvantage because of the loud popping sound it would create. Still he had to get behind Ron. Or perhaps…

"Heh," Ron answered, his mouth also twisted upward into a matching smirk. The gleam in his eyes told Harry that he was itching to try out his latest water spell.

Harry abruptly heaved his daggers forward, pushing back Ron's blade before he stepped forward, placing his right foot between Ron's legs. This prevented the redhead from keeping his balance, and Harry shoved the hilt into Ron's shoulder, causing Ron to fall. There was a loud sound as Ron's body contacted the ground, followed by a moment of silence before Ron sighed.

"Ouch."

"You okay?" Harry resisted the temptation to laugh.

"Never been better…" Ron smiled, rubbing his shoulder as he propped himself up. "You went easy on me at the end."

Harry shrugged, holding out his hand. "I can't hurt you too badly before tomorrow."

"Ha!" Ron laughed, taking Harry's hand and getting to his feet. Gingerly he rotated his shoulder. "You don't suppose you could heal it, do you? I want to make sure it's in top shape tomorrow."

Harry tapped his wand against the area and the relieved look on his best friend's face revealed that his spell had worked. Ron smiled suddenly.

"Ready for round two?"

Harry stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing. His peels of laughter rang throughout the courtyard, into the bright azure sky. Ron was always like that, once he fell down he just pushed himself right back up again. Running a hand through his messy black hair, he looked at his best friend. If he were with Ron, he would be more than happy to journey into the unknown future with his head and spirits high. Harry's face filled with warmth and determination as he smiled.

"I'm ready."

Naru-chan: What do you think? This is my first adventure/action story. I've never done this before...so I hope I'm doing it okay. Also, I will remind you all, again, that I ship canon. Therefore...yes, you will see. And if you read any other story of mine, you will note my favorite couple! I intend fully to write that one in this story. You'll just have to wait to see how.

Please review...?