Chapter 3! In which there is a role reversal and Ron struts his heretofore useless encyclopedic superhero knowledge.

"So," Ron deposited a thick stack of reading materials on the lunch table with a solid thwack, "I made a lesson plan for the decoy meeting."

Hermione appeared visibly disarmed by this development, going so far as to replace her worn bookmark within her Austen novel and set it aside. "You…what?" She asked, staring at the books and papers uncomprehendingly.

Harry wiped his hands on his jeans and excitedly picked up the magazine at the top of the pile. "More conspiracy theories?" He teased, admiring the glossy photograph of Poison Ivy and The Captain emblazoned across the front.

"Not conspiracy theories," Ron corrected, looking slightly awkward at having usurped Hermione's position as the one presenting reading materials and explaining their purpose to the group, "Erm, I thought we could talk about Poison Ivy and The Captain, and maybe go over some background on the whole Voldemort crisis since that was relatively recent and we all sort of grew up on those stories. But, I did have some theories that I thought we could talk about that could be pretty interesting— not conspiracies," he forestalled, plowing through, "all well-researched. I even found an article from a Harvard professor— Here." He rifled through the stack and handed Hermione an official-looking research paper.

Hermione accepted it automatically, looking, for once, at a loss for words.

"Oh, c'mon, so I did a little reading. It's not that surprising," Ron said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "It's been known to happen now and again. I thought it was a good introductory meeting topic, and even though it's harmless enough, so Malfoy can't really get any information on us out of it, I think it'll be a useful sort of case study for the team."

"Good thinking, Ron," Harry said warmly, leafing through the magazine. "This stuff is brilliant!"

"Brilliant," Hermione echoed faintly, looking at Ron very dazedly as she groped the table blindly for her book.

Harry winked at Ron, hastily re-wrapping the remaining half of his sandwich. "I'm gonna head to the field to practice," he explained, rolling his paper bag into a ball and gathering up his napkin and apple core. He clambered out of his seat and threw the crumpled paper bag and the apple core into the trash can, grinning as he sunk the shot. "Oh, Ron!" He said, turning excitedly. "I forgot to tell you— I think you should go out for goalie this season!"

Ron looked at him like he was insane, "…Harry, you're goalie."

"I've actually been thinking of going for center forward this year," Harry explained in a low voice, looking furtively around the cafeteria to see if anyone had heard, which was probably a bit overkill since, as per usual, everyone was ignoring them…including Hermione, who had apparently gotten over her astonishment and now had her head once again buried in Pride and Prejudice.

Ron, however, looked up, surprised, a half-chewed chunk of sandwich half-falling out of his mouth. Hermione glanced up from her book long enough to wrinkle her nose and hand him a napkin, and, just like that, balance was again restored to the world. "Center forward?!" Ron demanded, "Why?! You're the best goalie in the school! Oliver Wood himself handpicked you to be his replacement and he's on Manchester United's reserve team now!"

"I know," Harry said, gesturing for Ron to lower his voice, "and, don't get me wrong, I owe Oliver so much. I honestly don't know where I'd be if he hadn't blackmailed me into joining the team back in first year…but, remember when I filled in for center forward that time Charlie was sick? I've been thinking about it, and I kind of loved being in the middle of the action like that. I sort of… miss it. There's just so much waiting around when you're goalkeeping, you know?"

"Harry," Ron said, looking at him like he was insane. "You're a shoe-in for league MVP this year, and you're definitely getting captain when Angelina graduates. Are you sure you want to risk it?"

"I…actually think I do," Harry shrugged. "But listen," He leaned forward excitedly. "If Malfoy is really going to stick to his fake broken arm schtick, he might not play this season." When Ron didn't look like he understood why this mattered, Harry grabbed him by the shoulders. "Ron!" Harry shook him, ignoring the piece of corned beef that fell out of Ron's mouth as he did so, "Goalie will be open! You could try out!"

Ron promptly choked on what was left of his sandwich.

After a round of coughing as Harry pounded him on the back, Hermione threatening to perform the Heimlich maneuver, and, finally, forcing down the water Harry foisted on him, Ron was once again staring openmouthed at Harry, this time sans sandwich.

Several more rounds of cajoling, pleading, and both subtle and outright blackmail would eventually lead to a green-looking Ron accompanying Harry to the field on the day of tryouts.

That very field, incidentally, would be the place where it all began again.

…But let's not get ahead of ourselves. First, three days before football tryouts, our young heroes had their first club meeting.

"Can anyone tell me who this is?" Ron asked, without preamble, flicking the light of the overhead projector on and projecting an image onto the whiteboard behind him.

Harry squinted at the mugshot of a dirty, long-haired man, face contorted as he appeared to scream at the camera.

Professor Lupin, the affable, cardiganed computer science teacher who had kindly volunteered to be their club's faculty sponsor, made a small noise of disquiet from the back of the room.

"Your mum," Malfoy offered. Crabbe and Goyle were once again uncharacteristically absent, but he'd brought Pansy Parkinson with him, and she tittered, clinging tightly to his arm.

Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged in response, indicating that she didn't know either.

"Anyone?" Ron asked, ignoring Malfoy.

Harry craned his neck to look behind him. Colin, Neville, and Ginny looked equally confused, and Luna was staring dreamily off into space. Fred was fiddling disinterestedly with a fidget spinner while George appeared to be studiously copying homework.

"Sirius Black," Lupin said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was unusually grim.

There were a few gasps of surprise, and Hermione inhaled sharply next to him, but Harry was still lost.

As if shaken from his trance by their reactions, Lupin tore his eyes from the projected image. "Ah, excuse me, kids," He said, sounding slightly off as he made his way to the front of the room, "I've just remembered I have to finish something up for Dumbledore—" And with that he exited swiftly.

The door clicked shut behind him, the air briefly static with confusion, and then Pansy leaned in importantly.

"People say he knew him," she announced in a hushed tone, "That he was friends with him."

"Shut the hell up, Parkinson," Fred said tiredly, "Like you know anything."

"Hey—!"

"Fred's right," Ron broke in decisively, "That's ridiculous. Have you met Lupin? He likes chocolate and lumpy sweaters! Like he would have ever been friends with someone like Sirius Black."

"Sorry," Harry raised his hand, "But, who exactly is Sirius Black?"

"He's a serial killer," It was Neville who explained softly.

"Jesus, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "Do you live under a rock?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny defended immediately. "I know it's hard for you to grasp, but not everyone's family is teeming with murderous psychopaths."

"Say that again, She-Weasel, I dare you—"

"Ooh, I'm so scared, Malfoy—"

"EVERYONE STOP IT!" Hermione slammed her hand against the table. "This is ridiculous—you're all acting like children!" Ginny promptly snapped her mouth shut, pointedly looking away from Malfoy, who settled back into his chair, Pansy fluttering over him. Hermione turned back to face Ron. "Ron?"

"Thank you, Hermione," Ron said, uncapping a dry erase marker. "As Neville, said, Sirius Black is a serial killer, currently serving three life sentences in Azkaban prison. He is also the only member of Voldemort's primary henchmen whose identity was unmasked. He was known as Discord," Ron wrote "DISCORD" on the board in red capital letters, underneath Black's mugshot, "because he possessed the power to incite violence and conflict among the people around him. He could bring the ugliest impulses out of people, influence them to commit horrific crimes, create absolute chaos."

Ron clicked a button on his laptop and the picture projected on the board changed to a picture of a masked man, whose head was thrown back in maniacal laughter. The mask had a deranged clown face painted on it, with a long, serpent-like tongue.

"That's Wither!" Colin Creevey piped up fearfully. "My dad told me about him. He could suck the life out of you— starve you to death, even if you'd just eaten!"

Ron nodded, writing "WITHER" on the board under "DISCORD." He tapped the button and changed the picture again: It was another masked figure, this one hunched and stooped. The mask was vaguely rodent-like.

"Plague," Ginny identified immediately, "He could turn into a rat, spread deadly diseases."

Ron wrote "PLAGUE" on the board. "Last, but not least," he said, changing the picture again.

"Voldemort," Harry said quietly, staring at the cruel, red slit-eyed mask of the familiar figure shrouded in black.

"Also known as?" Ron queried.

"The Dark Lord," Malfoy supplied grimly, to everyone's surprise.

Ron raised his eyebrows but wrote it down anyway, at the top of the list. "Right," He said, straightening. "So, bear with me you guys, because this is interesting… Can anyone tell me the four horsemen of the apocalypse from the Bible?"

"War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death," Hermione answered immediately.

"That's a common misconception, actually," Malfoy drawled. "It's Conquest, War, Famine, and Pestilence."

Ron looked torn. "Er, Malfoy's right," he said awkwardly.

Hermione's lips quivered.

Ron turned back to the board. Next to "DARK LORD" he wrote "CONQUEST." By "DISCORD" he wrote "WAR." Next to "WITHER" he wrote "FAMINE," and by "PLAGUE" he wrote "PESTILENCE."

DARK LORD – CONQUEST

DISCORD – WAR

WITHER – FAMINE

PLAGUE – PESTILENCE

The room was silent.

"Whoa," Colin said, looking ready to explode.

"Hang on," Harry said. "So, Voldemort was trying to, what, usher in the apocalypse?"

"Depends on who you ask," Ron answered. "In my opinion, it was all a matter of messaging. He was a terrorist, trying to spread fear, and it was easy for him to curate that kind of fear by having him and his main henchmen evoke these biblical characters signaling the End Times." Ron changed the slide again, showing a picture of Voldemort, flanked by the three masked henchmen, "It's especially interesting because he also had other powerful followers, like the Mind Invader, for example—" Ron changed the picture to another masked man, this one tall, with an absolutely blank white mask, "Or Fiendfyre," he showed a picture of a man cackling amidst flames, "But he consistently surrounded himself with the other three when he appeared in public, to sort of cement that image."

Colin raised his hand. "So, what exactly were Voldemort's powers?" He asked.

Ron flipped the slide back to the picture of Voldemort, standing alone, his black robes flying. "That is the interesting part," Ron said. "No one really knows. There was so much misinformation being spread around that it all just added to the hysteria and to this perception that he was all-powerful, which, of course, only fed into the image he was trying to portray. There was a period of time when no one would say his name, out of fear that it would summon him."

Harry stared at the red slit eyes, which seemed to stare right back at him, feeling the hair on his back stand on end.

"So yeah," Ron said. "No one can really say for sure. Some say he could fly like the Captain, or read minds like Mind Invader, or torture people with just a look, control snakes, control the elements… The list goes on. The scariest part is, though, that we never figured out who he was. He died in the famous fire in Godric's Hollow Morgue, thanks to the efforts of the superheroes known as Poison Ivy and The Captain." Ron changed the picture to one of the superhero duo, beaming at the camera from behind their dominoes. "But because it was a morgue, there was too much human DNA to sift through in the ashes; and, since the paper records were destroyed in the fire, they were never able to identify which remains belonged to Voldemort. Even scarier, after Voldemort's death, his henchmen disappeared. Other than Sirius Black, and some of the lesser henchmen, like Fiendfyre, none of Voldemort's major followers were ever unmasked or identified. Assuming they didn't perish in the fire, that means they could still be walking among us today."

There were some murmurs from the room, snickers from the twins, and Hermione rolled her eyes next to him, but Harry was transfixed by Poison Ivy and The Captain, both frozen in some lost moment of happiness and pride, grinning at Harry from the board. For reason unknown, something in him ached.

AN: ooh. aah. Hope you enjoyed! If you did, (or didn't :0) drop me a review and let me know how you're feeling or what you're thinking, and I swear I will love you 'til death do us part!

Muah-

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