.

Chapter Nine

Fight Night

First updated 12/19/2014

=ooo=

The Great Hall
12:16 p.m.

There was a small, satisfied smile on Hermione's face as she entered the Great Hall and took a spot at the Gryffindor table next to Ron, who was already finishing off his first plate of food. Harry sat across from him, waiting for the plate of steamed vegetables he'd asked Dobby to bring him.

"Took you a while to get here," Ron said as she sat down.

Hermione glanced at him, then Harry. "I was talking with the Headmistress," she said, placing some salad fixings and a piece of braised chicken on her plate.

"About what?" Harry asked.

She stared back at him. "About you," she said, bluntly. "Going out to duel another student, really! Harry, you need to rethink this duel you and Malfoy are planning. You're not going to gain anything from it, and you could end up in serious trouble if you start breaking school rules."

"I was breaking school rules six years ago, but thanks for your concern," Harry said, wondering why his vegetables were taking so long. Dobby was usually quicker than this. "Malfoy challenged me, by the way. McGonagall should be talking to him."

"You shouldn't have accepted the challenge," Hermione shot back. "Just going out into the Forbidden Forest can get you expelled, do you realize that?"

"You haven't changed much in five years, have you?" Harry said coldly. "Still running off to tattle on anyone who puts a toe out of line." Harry shook his head. "That's not going to stop me from meeting Malfoy tonight."

"That's on you, then," Hermione said, leaning over the table toward him, her lunch forgotten. "But you shouldn't be engaging in midnight duels —"

"It's actually at ten," Run mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"— in ten o'clock duels, then!" Hermione snapped. "More than likely Malfoy won't even be there! Either he'll send a bunch of his cronies to beat you up, or —" she suddenly stopped talking and sat back, resuming eating.

"Or," Harry finished for her, "a bunch of Aurors will come after me, to haul me in front of my Head of House for being out of bounds, because you've tattled."

"Call it whatever you want," Hermione snapped. "It doesn't change the fact that you're breaking school rules! I just hope Professor Lupin has the courage to do what needs to be done to keep you in line. But, if not…" she left the rest of the sentence unspoken.

"I suppose that's why you went over Remus's head to McGonagall, isn't it?" Harry said. "I know you stayed after Transfiguration class to talk to him, too."

"She did?" Ron looked up from his plate, surprised. "You tattled to both of them?" he asked her, disbelievingly.

"McGonagall can override Lupin if need be," Hermione pointed out.

"Both Lupin and McGonagall knows things you're not aware of," Harry said in an arid tone.

"Such as, that you've got a contract with the Ministry to kill Voldemort?"

"What?!" Ron gulped down his mouthful of food, then turned to Harry. "Is that true?"

"It's true," Harry nodded. "But you don't need to go blabbing it to the whole world, Hermione. It's nobody's business how I deal with Voldemort."

"It is if you put people here in danger!"

"People at Hogwarts are already in danger," Harry said. "Dumbledore warned us the first day we were here not to go through that door on the third floor or we'd suffer a very painful death. And there are centaurs in the Forbidden Forest who would put an arrow in you if you trespassed on what they consider their territory."

"And there's spiders," Ron said, with a shudder. "Big spiders."

Hermione was beginning to turn red with anger. "All the more reason for you not to go there! Harry, the rules of Hogwarts are made for our protection. That's why you're not supposed to go into the Forbidden Forest! That's why you're supposed to obey the professors!"

"Really?" Harry drawled blandly. "I thought the rules were made to serve the pure-blood agenda, as part of Voldemort's plan to take over the Ministry."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but what came out was, "What do you mean, Voldemort's plan to take over the Ministry?" Where had Harry gotten that from? Ron had stopped eating and was listening with interest, too.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Harry said. "Voldemort's been back over two years now, according to the Daily Prophet. Do you think he's been sitting on his thumbs all this time? No, he's most likely been having his people infiltrate the Ministry, slowly enough that nobody's really taken notice. At the same time, his followers in the Wizengamot have been getting laws put in place that cut back on the rights of wizarding folk, especially those he deems 'undesirable' — werewolves, for example. Voldemort plans on using those new laws as a bargaining chip with the very people being oppressed, to get them to join his side." Remus had pointed that out to him a year ago, just after Harry took his O.W.L.s.

"Werewolves are undesirable," Ron spoke up, hotly. "Last year a kid was killed by a werewolf!"

"I read the story," Harry said. "A little boy, only five years old. He was named Montgomery, if I recall correctly."

"You do," Hermione said, her voice bleak. "I talked to his sisters afterwards — they were here at Hogwarts when it happened."

"And members of the Wizengamot used that tragedy to enact the Werewolf Control Act," Harry continued. "Which limited the rights of werewolves to work in Wizarding Britain to jobs that could be overseen by a representative or agent of the Ministry. Basically, so the Ministry could deny job to werewolves and keep anyone else from hiring them. I also read that Dumbledore made sure that the Headmaster of Hogwarts fell under that umbrella." Fortunately, Harry added to himself, or McGonagall wouldn't have been able to hire Remus. One of the few things Dumbledore had gotten right, in Harry's opinion.

"You have some points," Hermione said slowly. She checked her watch — it was 12:24. "But I don't think Voldemort's followers would be able to infiltrate the Ministry, Harry. The Dark Mark would give them away."

"The Dark Mark is an example of the Protean Charm," Harry pointed out. "Voldemort could use that to disguise it —"

"Not easily," Hermione said. She stood. "I don't have time to argue with you about this, Harry — I have a prefects' meeting to go to. Ron," she said, nudging him in the shoulder. He was still eating. "Come on."

"You don't really need me there, do you?" Ron said, glancing at his half-full plate of food. When Hermione nodded he threw down his fork and stood up, a sullen expression on his face. "See you in Charms," he said to Harry as Hermione walked away, then ran after her.

At that moment a bowl of steamed vegetables appeared in front of Harry, accompanied by a crack — Dobby appeared on the bench next to him. "Dobby is very sorry, Harry Potter," the house elf said, cringing as if he thought Harry might strike him. "Dobby had some difficulty preparing the vegetables the way you wished."

Harry took a sniff. "They smell fine, Dobby," he said. The vegetables were steamed just right, without seasoning, letting the natural flavors develop. "What was the problem?"

"The other house-elves don't like the way Dobby prepares Harry Potter's meals," Dobby said. "They tell Dobby, 'Vegetables should be boiled or fried!' and 'vegetables must be seasoned properly!' Dobby had to prepare Harry Potter's meal in secret so the other house-elves would not stop Dobby."

"I thought house-elves were supposed to do what wizards want," Harry said. He wasn't happy that the house-elves were being forced to serve wizards, but he wanted his meals prepared so he could eat them!

"They are, sir!" Dobby nodded vigorously, his ears flapping wildly. "Dobby told them that! But they says, 'House-elves are supposed to do the best they can with what they have.'"

"Well, you have, Dobby," Harry said, with another appreciative sniff of his meal. "You can tell the other elves that for me."

Dobby beamed proudly. "Thank you, Harry Potter! Dobby will do just that!" Dobby vanished with a crack.

"Oh, wait a second," Harry said suddenly. Dobby appeared again. "I wanted to ask: do you know what the Room of Requirement is?"

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter!" Dobby nodded again. "Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room."

"Okay," Harry said patiently. "That tells me what you call it. But what is it? What's it do?"

"It is a room that a person can only enter when they have real need of it, sir," Dobby said, his expression now serious. "Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dobby has used it, sir," said the elf, dropping his voice and looking guilty, "when Dobby's friend Winky has been very drunk; he has hidden her in the Room of Requirement and he has found antidotes to butterbeer there, and a nice elf-sized bed to settle her on while she sleeps it off, sir… and Dobby knows Mr. Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short."

"Oh, I get it," Harry nodded. "Everyone in the castle must be lining up to use it."

"Oh, no, sir," Dobby's ears now flapped sideways as he shook his head. "Very few, sir. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service. We house-elves do not speak of it unless we are asked, sir."

"I see…" Harry mulled that over a moment. A room that could be whatever he needed it to be, and that not many people in the school new about. That could be a really handy place if he needed somewhere private for his Sinanju training. "Dobby, can you tell me where this Room of Requirement is located, and how to get in?"

Before Dobby could answer, however, Harry sensed a girl walking toward him. He glanced over, expecting to see Romilda Vane again, but it was Lavender Brown heading his way. "I'll talk to you later, Dobby," he said out of the corner of his mouth. Dobby nodded and vanished.

"Hi, Harry," Lavender said, sitting down across from him.

"Hi, Lavender," Harry said, then started in on his bowl of vegetables.

"What are you having for lunch?" Lavender asked, leaning forward to look in the bowl.

"Steamed vegetables," Harry said, not looking up. "What's up, Lavender?" he asked, wondering what she wanted. He had a pretty good idea, though.

"I was just wondering," Lavender said coyly, "what you were doing after classes today?" So he had guessed right, Harry mentally noted.

"Training," Harry said shortly, still chewing his first bite of vegetables slowly and carefully, liquefying the food before he swallowed it so as to extract the maximum amount of nutrition.

"Training?" Lavender leaned forward, her eyes wide with interest. "What kind of training is that?" Her interest was mostly in Harry, not in what he was training for.

"Rigorous training," Harry muttered. She was aroused, he could tell; in fact, one of her hands was out of sight beneath the table. "What's your other hand doing?" he asked, nodding toward her arm.

"Nothing," she said quickly, putting both hands on the table. Her fingertips were moist, Harry could see. Lavender quickly covered her fingers with her other hand. "Well, I thought we might goo — um, go for a walk sometime. You know, that is, if you want to…"

"Well, I don't know," Harry said, still eating. "I sort of promised Romilda Vane I would show her the size of my brushes."

"The size of your what?" Lavender said, louder than she intended. Several other people at the Gryffindor table looked over at them, curiously.

"Never mind," Harry said, smiling.

"Harry, listen," Lavender said, leaning closer. "Romilda's too young for you. She's only a fifth-year."

"Why is that too young?" Harry asked. "That sounds like age discrimination to me."

Lavender was staring at him, her mouth open. "But —"

"What's wrong with dating a fifth-year or even a fourth-year?" Harry asked her. "What's the big deal?"

"Are you joking?" Lavender hissed. "What about —" she looked around to see if anyone was watching, then mimed poking one of her fingers between two other fingers.

"Oh, you mean sex," Harry said, not lowering his voice at all. Lavender flinched, embarrassed.

"Oh my god, Harry, stop!" she whispered. "People will think we're —"

"Well, isn't that what you want?" Harry said to her, coldly.

"Not like this!" she hissed. "They're not supposed to know we're talking about it, they're supposed to guess it!" She jumped up from the table. "I can't believe how rude you are, Harry Potter!" she said loudly, and stomped away.

Harry watched her go, still chewing his vegetables. Well, one down, maybe 50 or 60 more to go. He really didn't have time for extraneous sex, as helpful as it would be to his overall training regimen. There were three separate methods for bringing women to sexual fulfillment — the first method had 27 steps, the second 37, and the last method had 52 steps, but Remo had told him that you didn't use the last method on anyone except Korean women.

Harry knew all three, but had only used the first two methods, mostly on older women when he was out adventuring with Remo and Chiun wasn't along. Chiun had frowned on him learning the techniques before he was of age, but Remo had said that they were a part of the Sinanju training, and if Chiun wanted him trained in Sinanju they were part of the package.

Ironically, after using them enthusiastically the first couple of times he'd tried them, Harry found that they took all of the enjoyment out of sex for him — at least as far as using the techniques to control women who were trying to use him or Remo in some way. Women were reduced to quivering masses of jellied flesh afterwards, and they tended to follow you around like puppies, begging for more attention. That, and the fact that women were now attracted to him like cats to catnip, made having sex not much more enjoyable than doing push-ups. Harry just hoped he'd get past that someday. He still wanted sex, but he wanted to enjoy it, too.

Lavender had joined a clique of girls at the other end of the Gryffindor table. Out of idle curiosity, Harry adjusted his hearing so he could listen in on their whispered conversation.

"What did he say?" Lavender's friend Parvati asked.

"It was strange. He's strange. He says he's busy doing training."

"What kind of training?" A girl Harry didn't recognize asked.

"He said it was rigorous. I never heard of that kind of training."

"Lavender, that just means it's really hard." That sounded like Ginny Weasley.

"I know what I'd like to see really hard on him," Romilda said. Harry smirked.

"Shut up, Vane," he heard Lavender hiss. "You're too young for him, anyway."

"Says who?" Romilda snapped. "You're just afraid he likes me better."

"I don't think he's interested in girls," Lavender muttered.

"Maybe he's just not interested in you," Romilda sneered.

"Maybe we should send Neville over to see," another girl Harry didn't know said.

"Neville's not gay!" Ginny Weasley protested.
"How do you know that?" Romilda demanded.

"He likes somebody I know," Ginny retorted.

"Who?"

"None of your business, Vane."

This was getting to be TMI, Harry thought, tuning out the conversation. He finished his bowl of vegetables and slipped out of the Hall without anyone seeing him leave.

His first class of the afternoon was Ancient Runes, taught by Bathsheba Babbling. The first time Harry had seen her was at yesterday evening's feast. She was tall for a witch, about five-foot-nine or so, and wore her blonde hair long and straight, dressing in robes of deepest blue. Unlike the core classes at Hogwarts, Ancient Runes and its sister class, Arithmancy, were taught at N.E.W.T. level with all four Houses present in class and in three separate periods rather than a single and a double period. In spite of that, the only students in the seventh year class that year were Harry, Hermione and all of the Ravenclaws, making a class of eight students.

As the only two Gryffindors in the class, Harry and Hermione were sitting at a table together. That had been Harry's doing; he'd walked into the classroom, saw Hermione alone at a table, and took the seat next to her, smiling as he sat down. She nodded at him but didn't speak, then turned back to the book in front of her. Harry recognized it as Advanced Rune Translation, a standard N.E.W.T-level textbook for the subject in wizarding Britain.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Professor Babbling said as she entered the classroom. The other students, including Hermione, answered her. The professor put her valise on the desk, then turned toward Harry. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," she said, smiling at him. There were a few smothered snickers from neighboring desks.

"Hello, Professor Babbling," Harry said, politely. He could feel the rest of the class, Hermione included, staring at him.

"It's very interesting to find you in my class, Mr. Potter," the blonde witch said, staring sedately at him. All eyes went to her as she spoke. From what Harry was reading from her, she did in fact find it quite interesting. But there was no hint of sexual desire in her stare, which Harry found refreshing after dealing with Romilda and Lavender.

"In what way, Professor?" Harry asked, curious. The class's eyes ping-ponged back to the professor.

"I've reviewed the records Professor Lupin provided of your previous studies in this course, and I must say, you've done much better than I would have expected for…" she paused for a moment. "A home-schooled student," she finished. Everyone looked back toward Harry, wondering what he'd say to that.

"Professor Lupin was a very good teacher," Harry said.

"I quite agree," Professor Babbling said. "And I welcome another gifted student into our ranks. Though Septima might point out," she added, smiling, that you have increased our class size from a potent seven to a less powerful eight."

"I'm sure she'll mention that to me in our next class," Harry said.

"I'm sure she will," Professor Babbling said, rather dryly. She clapped her hands briskly. "All right, class, let's begin, shall we?" She had them turn to chapter 12 of Advanced Rune Translation and discussed the contextual meanings of the laguz and pertho runes and their use in advanced Charms and Transfiguration spell work.

Nothing Harry hadn't come across before in his studies with Remus. He began thinking about what Chiun might want for dinner tonight. It wasn't that hard to guess, of course. Rice and fish.

The only problem Harry hadn't considered earlier was that it was unlikely that Three Broomsticks could provide those for Chiun. Fish might not be a problem, as haddock and cod were used in many Scottish dishes, but rice wasn't a food normally eaten around these parts. Harry wasn't even sure where Dobby had come up with the brown rice for his meals.

Well, there was an idea, Harry realized. He could have Dobby prepare a meal of rice and fish for Chiun. He wasn't sure what the headmistress would think of that — it might be against the rules for house-elves to feed anyone other than a student, but he had to make sure Chiun had something to eat. A Master of Sinanju could go for weeks without food if necessary, but there was no need if food was available.

After class dismissed Harry stuffed his book in his pouch and walked out, intending to find a quiet corner and call Dobby, when Hermione called his name. He stopped, waiting for her to catch up to him. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Harry, what are you doing here?" she demanded.

Harry smiled. "If you want to discuss existentialism maybe we should start a club," he suggested.

"That's not what I mean!" Hermione huffed, exasperated. "I mean, what are you doing at Hogwarts? You weren't listening to a single thing Professor Babbling said today!"

That was true enough, but — "What makes you think that?" Harry asked.

"Well," Hermione gave an annoyed shrug. "I watched you looking off into space. You were clearly thinking of something else. Weren't you?"

"So you were looking at me instead of listening to Professor Babbling," Harry pointed out. "That's very interesting."

"Well, I can do both," she replied, defensively. "I can look at you and listen to her lecture?"

"Then why can't I look into space and listen to her as well?" Harry asked, reasonably. Hermione snorted but said nothing. "Come on," he said, starting to walk. "I need to find someplace quiet before next period."

"What for?" Hermione asked, frowning but following him.

"I have a question for Dobby." Harry stopped at a T-intersection. Students were walking in the main corridor but nobody was going into or coming out of the T. "This looks good," he said, walking down it.

Hermione hesitated. She had less than 10 minutes to get to Arithmancy, and she disliked being late to any class, much less that one. "Shall I tell Professor Vector you'll be late for class?" she asked, tartly.

"You can tell her that," Harry said, without looking around, "if I'm not there when the bell rings." Hermione shook her head and walked away at a brisk pace.

The corridor went around a corner, ending abruptly in a small alcove. There were no lighted wall braziers here; it was very dim. Harry made his pupils expand, allowing more light in, and said, "Dobby? Can you hear me? I need to speak to you."

A second later there was a crack and the house-elf appeared, bowing. "Dobby comes at Harry Potter's call," he said. "What may Dobby do for sir?"

"I have a question about the food you've been preparing for me," Harry said. "Where do you get it from?"

Dobby looked confused. "Dobby gets it from the kitchen," he said, as if the answer should be obvious, even to a wizard.

"I know that. But where does it come from before that?" Harry pressed.

"Dobby is not sure what sir means," the house-elf said. "Fish come from the sea, and rice is grown in rice paddies."

"I know all that," Harry said. "But the only water around here is the Great Lake, south of the castle, and there are no rice paddies in Scotland."

"Ah! Dobby understands now!" Dobby's head was bobbing up and down. "Other house-elves gather the food we use to prepare meals, sir. Dobby does not know where the rice comes from, but there are great sacks of it in the kitchen. Dobby prepares it just as sir requests."

"Alright," Harry muttered, thinking. "Is it possible for me to get an extra portion of fish and rice tonight?"

"Harry Potter may eat as much as he pleases," Dobby nodded.

"No, I need it for someone else," Harry explained. "My father is staying at Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and I don't think he can get it there."

Dobby bowed. "Dobby can take the food to Three Broomsticks, sir!"

"Okay, but I want to go with you," Harry said. It would be better if he was there rather than having Dobby suddenly appear to Chiun with food in his hands. There was no telling what might happen if that occurred. "Great, Dobby. Can we go after dinner is over in the Great Hall tonight?"

"Yes, Harry Potter." Dobby bowed low again, then vanished with a crack.

Harry consulted his internal clock. It was about three minutes until the bell signaling the start of the next period rang.

The Arithmancy classroom was composed of exactly the same students who'd been in Ancient Runes, with only one missing. Professor Septima Vector entered the class, walking sedately, with very proper bearing, stopping next to her desk to survey the class. She caught Hermione's eye and nodded slightly; Hermione smiled and nodded back. Arithmancy was her favorite class. Professor Vector was a very strict witch, but her classes were the most instructive and informative ones Hermione had ever attended, with no extraneous discussions or distractions. Most of the other students in her classes considered Professor Vector "hard as nails," but Hermione appreciated her no-nonsense attitude.

With less than a minute before the period began, the chair next to Hermione was still empty. Professor Vector had noticed it as well, but she simply stood silently next to her desk, waiting for the bell to signal the start of class.

Finally, just as the bell rang, the door of the classroom opened and Harry Potter stepped inside, walking briskly over to sit next to Hermione just as the final ring died away.

Professor Vector stared appraisingly at Harry for several moments. "Mr. Potter," she said at last. "You were very nearly late to my class."

Harry nodded. "I was here by the bell, Professor," he pointed out. He'd actually been waiting just outside the door for more than a minute.

"Indeed," the professor agreed. "That is, however, improbable, given that all the other students arrived well before the bell. Were you delayed?"

"I was occupied with another matter for a few minutes," Harry said.

"I see. Was it a matter relevant to your classes?"

This was becoming a bit intrusive, Harry thought. "Does that matter, Professor?"

"Insofar as this class is concerned it does, Mr. Potter," Professor Vector said. "I wish to begin my classes on time. Hereafter, if you are late for my class you will lose House points." Harry shrugged. Hermione winced.

"Do you not care about House points, Mr. Potter?" Professor Vector asked. "Five points from Gryffindor, then," she added, smoothly. "Now, let us turn to page 197 of Advanced Arithmancy, the section on the Agrippan method applied to non-verbal spells…"

Fifty-three interminable minutes later the bell signaling the end of class finally rang. "Your homework," Vector said as students began gathering their books, "is 18 inches on the Frodian method using the Elder Furthak. Dismissed!"

The last class of the day was Charms, though it was in a different classroom than Harry remembered, almost on the opposite side of the castle, in fact. Most of the Ravenclaws headed off in a different direction, though the few that kept up with Harry and Hermione could have been on their way to Ravenclaw Tower. Hermione said nothing as they walked together, and Harry let her be, seeing as how he'd been sniping at her quite a bit that day.

Professor Flitwick was in the alternate classroom, nodding and smiling at students as they entered. Ron was already in the room, and he waved Harry and Hermione over. They sat down on either side of him as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Got in a kip during my free periods," he said to Harry. "Good thing Neville came in and woke me up before class." He leaned closer, whispering, "That means I'll be wide awake for that duel with Malfoy tonight." Harry nodded a curt agreement. Inwardly, however, he was no longer sure that was a good idea. Having Ron along, that is, not the duel itself. If Hermione had informed McGonagall of the duel the Headmistress might be compelled to take steps to prevent it, and Ron was there she might expel him as well. If Harry didn't take his N.E.W.T.s this year he could always come back later and take them, disguised as someone else if necessary, but Ron lived and would most likely work in Wizarding Britain. He didn't want Ron to have to deal with the fallout of being expelled from Hogwarts.

The bell rang and Flitwick began class. He discussed N.E.W.T.-level spells like the Breath-Clearing Charm, the Caterwauling Charm, the Disillusionment Charm, the Flame-Freezing Charm, the Protean Charm, and various protection charms used to keep Muggles or Dark wizards from entering a location or building. He demonstrated one of the more difficult Charms, the Protean Charm, using two suits of armor that had been set up in his classroom. Casting the Protean Charm on both of them, Flitwick then cast Tarantallegra on one suit of armor, causing it to begin dancing uncontrollably. The second suit of armor also joined in the dancing.

"Hermione's already learned this spell," Ron whispered to Harry. "She used it two years ago when you — I mean your impersonator — were teaching us Defense spells in the Room of Requirement."

Interesting, Harry thought, about his impostor. "How did she use the Protean Charm?"

"She cast it on fake Galleons," Ron whispered. "We used them to tell everyone when to come to our meetings in the Room."

"Neat idea," Harry agreed.

Flitwick was levitating feathers over to each of them, just as he had done six years ago for their first actual practice using magic in his class, casting Wingardium Leviosa. Flitwick sure liked using feathers, Harry grinned to himself.

"Now, everyone," Flitwick was saying. "Please enchant both of your feathers with the Protean Charm, then cast the Levitation Charm on one of the feathers. The other feather should do exactly what the first feather does. Please cast your spells."

The class got busying enchanting the feathers with the Protean Charm. Harry watched as both Hermione and Ron waved their wands over their feathers. Hermione had no difficulty enchanting her feathers; Ron, however, was not casting the Protean Charm right. "Watch," Harry said, tracing the form of the pertho rune from the Elder Furthak, then guided Ron's hand as he made the wand motions. "Now try it," he said, pointing to Ron's two feathers.

Ron concentrated on the two feathers. "Proteus!" he cast, making the wand motions Harry had shown him, and the feathers flashed momentarily blue. "I think it worked that time!" he said excitedly to Harry.

Harry moved the feathers apart. "Try to levitate one," he suggested, and Ron flicked and swished his wand at the closer one. "Wingardium Leviosa," he murmured, and the feather lifted into the air. At the same time the other feather floated into the air as well. "I did it!" Ron exclaimed.

"Very good, Mr. Weasley!" Flitwick, who'd been watching, commended him. "And you as well, Mr. Potter! Five points for Gryffindor to each of you!"

"Good job, Ron," Hermione said. Harry noted she didn't include him in the compliment. "I've been trying to teach you that since last year," she went on. "Now Harry shows it to you once and suddenly you can cast it?" There were traces of doubt in her voice.

"He didn't just tell me how to do it," Ron pointed out. "He showed me." Hermione's eyes flicked to Harry for a moment; she then shrugged and went back to trying other spells on her feathers. Ron glanced at Harry, getting his attention, then flashed a covert thumbs-up at him, signifying well done!

When class ended everyone spilled into the halls, scatting in several directions: toward the Gryffindor common room, the Great Hall, or to other places where they had other things to attend to. Supper was nearly an hour away, so Harry pulled Ron aside to ask him what he'd forgotten to ask Dobby earlier that day.

"Where's the Room of Requirement?" he wanted to know.

"You mean you forgot —" Ron snapped his fingers. "Sorry, Harry, I keep forgetting that wasn't you two years ago who showed it to us!" He looked around, seeing that no one was paying attention to them, then motioned for Harry to follow. "I'll show you."

Harry followed Ron up to the seventh floor, to a bare stretch of corridor that contained only a tapestry of a rather beleaguered wizard surrounded by trolls wearing tutus, who appeared to be engaged in a dance, but looking more like they were trying to bash the wizard to bits. "The door to the Room of Requirement should be opposite this tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy," Ron said. "So what's your plan? You going to start up meetings of Dumbledore's Army again?"

"Ron," Harry said, as patiently as he could. "You keep forgetting, that wasn't me. Now, how do you get into this Room of Requirement?"

"You walk back and forth in front of this wall," Ron said, pointing to a section opposite the tapestry. "You've gotta concentrate on what you need. On the third time past the door to the Room should appear."

Harry reached up, putting his hands on the wall. It didn't feel any different than any other stretch of corridor. He hit the wall lightly with his fist. It seemed solid — he couldn't sense any kind of space behind it. "Do you think you can show me how it works?" he asked Ron.

"Er—" Ron shrugged helplessly. "I can't think of anything I need, really," he muttered. "What about you, Harry? Is there anything you need?"

"I need a room where I can train," Harry muttered, still running his hands along the wall.

"You mean practice your magic, so you can defeat You-Know-Who?" Ron wondered, watching curiously as Harry examined the wall.

"Not exactly," Harry said. Ron waited, but Harry didn't elaborate.

"Well, why don't you have a go, then?" Ron suggested, as Harry stepped back from the wall. "If you know what you need, that is."

Harry shrugged. Why not? He followed Ron's instructions, pacing back and forth in front of the wall thinking, I need a place for my Sinanju training, I need a place I can train. After the third pass he stopped and looked at the wall.

Nothing happened.

"Were you concentrating on what you wanted?" Ron asked, when it became obvious no door was going to appear.

"Of course I was," Harry said, irritably. He was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of elaborate prank Ron and Hermione was pulling on him. Haze the new guy, and all that. But no, Dobby had told him about the room as well. Of course, they could have simply ordered Dobby to go along with the joke…

"Are you sure this is supposed to work?" Harry asked.

"I've been in there!" Ron said, gesturing at the wall. "A bunch of us were!"

"How many times?" Harry asked, skeptically.

"Loads!" Ron exclaimed. "Harry, we met in there for like five or six months before Umbridge found out and raided us! You — I mean your double — was caught and brought to Dumbledore! He pretended the meeting was his idea and that was the first meeting, and Umbridge and Minister Fudge tried to arrest him, but he got away."

"That's all very interesting," Harry said, uninterested, "but it doesn't explain why we can't get in there —" He stopped talking and looked at the wall.

It was shimmering. "What the hell?" Harry muttered.

"Uh-oh," Ron muttered. "That's why we couldn't get in —"

Harry suddenly sensed people on the other side of the wall. The shimmering continued until a large oaken door suddenly appeared.

Harry grabbed Ron and pushed him down the corridor, where they disappeared around the corner. The door to the Room of Requirement opened and Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott came out into the hallway.

"It's all set, then," Malfoy said as they walked down the corridor. "Let the others know," he said to Crabbe and Goyle. "It's at ten p.m. tonight. We're going to show Potter who's running this school."

They turned the corner where Harry and Ron had run to and kept on walking until the next intersection, where they turned again and were out of sight. Harry and Ron emerged from under the Invisibility Cloak.

"That's why we couldn't get in," Ron said to Harry. "If someone else is using the room you can't get in unless you need the same thing they do."

"Now you tell me," Harry said, plaintively. "How do you know if someone's in there? What about that Marauder's Map Hermione has?"

"Nope," Ron shook his head. "The Room never shows up on the Map. We've looked for it. If you're in the Room of Requirement, you're invisible to the Marauder's Map."

"That's good to know, at least," Harry muttered. "And now we know what Malfoy is planning for tonight."

"Yeah!" Ron agreed. "If he's bringing other Slytherins we're going to need reinforcements."

"What? No." Harry shook his head. "You're not going."

"I thought you wanted me there as your second!" Ron protested.

"No, that's too risky now," Harry said. "If we get caught you could get expelled."

"So could you!"

"Yeah, but if I get expelled it just means I won't be able to work in wizarding Britain," Harry said. "If you get expelled it's a black mark on your family name."

Ron laughed harshly. "My family's name is pretty much mud already," he said glumly. "My brother Percy backed Fudge until he was sacked, and now Minister Scrimgeour barely acknowledges his existence. Not to mention the fact that he and my dad are on the outs with each other. So I'm still coming with you."

"We'll see," Harry said.

But Ron shook his head. "No, mate," he said, his voice firm. "I'm a better wizard than you think I am. You — or whoever — did a good job of teaching us, and I can take care of myself. I can get some of the other Gryffindors and we can back you up on this duel between you and Malfoy."

Well, so Ron did have a backbone after all. Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "Okay, then. We can talk about how we'll handle the duel later tonight." And now I have a way to get around that damned Map, he added to himself. "For now, let's go get something to eat before Hermione comes looking for us." He and Ron headed for the nearest staircase.

=ooo=

5:07 p.m.
The Great Hall

Draco entered the Great Hall with an air of smug self-importance as Crabbe and Goyle opened the doors for him, followed by Nott, who seemed to be almost as puffed up as Malfoy himself. Various groups of Slytherins along their table broke into applause for the Head Boy as he strode past them, smiling and nodding, until he reached the mid-point of the table, where Pansy and Daphne Greengrass were seated, holding the place of honor for him.

Draco took his place between them, while Crabbe and Goyle muscled themselves into the spots on either side of the girls. The other House tables watched these developments unfold with varying reactions: the Ravenclaws with amused indifference to Slytherin antics, the Hufflepuffs with whispering and glances toward the High Table, where McGonagall had watched Draco's entrance with her mouth set in a thin line, and the Gryffindors with disdain, snorts of derision and some catcalls.

Draco smiled to himself; whatever their reaction, he'd gotten their attention. He let Pansy and Daphne fuss over him, placing a napkin in his lap and preparing a plate for him from the foods covering the table, making a show of tasting each one ahead of time, as if to ensure if any of it were poisoned they would be stricken before him.

As he waited, Draco glanced around the table, wordlessly verifying that everyone who was in on his duel with Potter was in. He received nods from Harper, Scalby and Baddock, who across the table and to his right; then from Wendelen Wilkes and his men; then, finally, from Erasmus Selwyn and his group. Draco did not look toward Blaise Zabini, who as usual had isolated himself further up the table, closer to the teachers, where he would not be bothered. At least, not in the Great Hall. After they'd taught Potter a lesson tonight, Zabini was going to learn what it meant to go against his own kind. Slytherins all had to stick together, since every other House at Hogwarts was against them, though the 'Puffs didn't count, as they were all losers and weaklings anyway.

Harry and Ron walked into the Great Hall and over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down across from Hermione, who was having her usual salad with some roasted chicken, potatoes and corn. Harry glanced around behind him, looking toward the Slytherin table, where he caught Draco's eye and smiled. Draco seemed to ignore him but smiled cruelly as he let Pansy feed him a bite of roast beef.

Hermione was watching the exchange. "Still planning on your little excursion?" she asked as Harry turned around to face her.

"Course we are," Ron said sharply. "We're not afraid of those gits."

"You're not really thinking of going with him?" Hermione stared at Ron in disbelief. "You're a prefect!"

"So what?" Ron demanded. "We're Gryffindors! We stick together! I'm going to get a group of us to go with Harry tonight!"

Hermione leaned forward. "Harry, you have to stop this," she said, keeping her voice low to avoid attention. "This is getting ridiculous."

Inwardly, Harry agreed. He shouldn't have asked Ron along in the first place, and now the fool was planning on pulling others into his duel with Malfoy. He needed to fix that, somehow, but in such a way that Ron wouldn't feel like he'd failed. He picked up a fork and began tapping it on the table. "We'll see," was all he said to Hermione, who sighed and sat back, giving up.

Ron began piling a plate with food, while Harry looked to one side and muttered, "Dobby," under his breath. A moment later Dobby appeared on the bench next to him, holding two bowls of fish and rice which he placed in front of Harry.

"Dobby has brought Harry Potter two bowls," the house-elf said happily. "When does sir wish to bring the bowl to his fath—mmph!" Dobby stopped talking as Harry put his hand over the elf's mouth.

"In a while, Dobby," Harry said softly. "First, I have something for you to do." He took two spoons from the table, placing them close together, then unobtrusively took out his wand. Making it look like he was placing the bowls of food in front of himself, he quietly cast the Protean Charm on the spoons, then handed one to Dobby.

"Can you put this spoon next to Malfoy's plate without anyone seeing you?" Harry whispered.

"Yes, Harry Potter, Dobby can do this for sir," Dobby said, looking puzzled. "But why does sir want—"

"No questions," Harry shushed him. "Just do it, please. I'll call you when I'm ready to leave." Dobby nodded and vanished, noiselessly this time.

Harry took a bite of his rice and began chewing slowly. As he did he pretended to look toward the High Table, but glanced over to where Malfoy was sitting. He saw the spoon suddenly appear to the left of Malfoy's plate. The spoon next to it disappeared. Good job, Dobby, Harry smiled to himself.

The next part was easy. Harry placed a hand over the first spoon, Transfiguring it so that letters rose up from the metal, spelling the words: MALFOY — MAKE IT NINE PM TONIGHT. POTTER.

Harry picked up the spoon, holding it as he cast a Buzzing Charm on it, making it vibrate in his hand. Across the Hall, the spoon next to Malfoy's plate vibrated as well, making a buzzing sound. Daphne picked it up, looking at it curiously, then handed it to Malfoy. Malfoy looked at then looked up, toward Harry, who turned so they were eye-to-eye. Malfoy nodded minutely. Harry Vanished his spoon, making the one in Malfoy's hand disappear as well.

That was that, then. Harry finished his bowl of fish and rice, eating the last of it about the same time Ron cleared his second plate of food. Hermione had already finished eating and had left the table without saying anything to either of them. He leaned close to Harry and whispered, "How d'you want to handle this, Harry?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Do you have a way to call the members of that Army you mentioned earlier?" he asked.

"Dumbledore's Army?" Ron nodded. "Sure." He reached into a pocket and removed a Galleon. "It's a fake," he said, showing it to Harry. "There's a charm on it that will show what time we should be at the Room of Requirement. But it's been over a year since we used them — I don't know how many of us will show up."

"That's okay," Harry whispered. "Send a message to meet there at nine p.m. tonight. We'll see how many show up and go from there. How's that sound?"

"Great!" Ron enthused. "We'll all be behind you Harry, you'll see!"

"Good," Harry said. He picked up the bowl of rice and fish. "I'll meet you there at nine and we'll plan our attack. Be sure and wait for me — if I'm a little late, I'll show up eventually."

"Where you going now?" Ron asked, as Harry stood up.

"Bringing dinner to a friend," Harry said. "See you at nine."

Ron nodded and reached for some cobbler to top off his meal. Harry walked to the doors of the Great Hall, moving so everyone would see him leave. He was aware of many eyes from the Slytherin table following him. Some of them appeared to ready themselves to follow them. Harry smiled. Let them try.

In the entrance hall, he began moving in earnest, going into stealth mode. Within a minute he was on the seventh floor and standing in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls, making sure no one else was around. "Dobby," he said.

Dobby appeared. "Harry Potter calls Dobby," the house-elf squeaked, bowing low to Harry.

"Dobby, can you take someone with you when you disappear?" Harry asked, hoping the information he'd read earlier that day in The Real History of Hogwarts was accurate. There had been nothing about house-elves in Hogwarts: A History, the standard history text for the school.

"Yes," Dobby nodded.

"Can you leave the castle?" Harry further inquired.

"Yes," Dobby nodded again. "But why does sir —"

"One more question," Harry said. "Can you do it from inside the Room of Requirement?"

Looking puzzled, Dobby nodded again. "But Dobby can only leave the Room — he cannot appear inside unless he knows why it is needed," he warned.

"That's good enough," Harry said. "Okay, then. I need a room where I can leave the castle and not be missed. Here, hold this." He handed the bowl of rice and fish to Dobby, then began walking in front of the wall opposite the tapestry, muttering the sentence over and over as he did so. On the third time past the wall a door suddenly appeared.

"Son of a bitch," Harry grinned. "It worked!" He opened the door and motioned Dobby inside. The room itself was unremarkable — the walls were lined with braziers alternating with columns against the walls, lighting the room, but it was otherwise empty.

Except for a darkened corner, where Harry saw a small round hole about five feet high. Curious, he walked over and peered inside it. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he made out a passageway with steps that sloped slightly downward and into the distance, farther than even Harry's eyes could make out.

"Where does this go?" Harry asked Dobby, pointing down the passage.

"Harry Potter asked for a room to leave the castle," Dobby said. "That is what the Room provided for sir."

"Wow," Harry shook his head, surprised. "It can do that?"

"The Room can give sir whatever sir needs," Dobby said. "Unless it is something impossible for magic to do, like create food from nothing."

"Where do you think this goes?" Harry asked.

"Wherever sir wants it to," Dobby replied. "Sir has but to need it to go where he wants."

Harry wanted it to go into Chiun's room at Three Broomsticks, but he didn't think that would be a very good idea. Where was someplace close by? "Of course," he said, snapping his fingers. "I want — I need it to go to the Shrieking Shack."

The Room shuddered momentarily. Harry looked at Dobby, who shrugged. He looked down the hole in the corner of the room. Well, this way would take longer than having Dobby Apparate him into Three Broomsticks, but it would mean he would have a way back into Hogwarts without crawling through that dirty passage from the Shack to the Whomping Willow. "Come on, Dobby," he said, drawing his wand and lighting the tip with the Lumos spell.

The steps led smoothly and slowly downward. Harry followed them and Dobby followed him, still carrying the bowl for Chiun. The steps grew steeper and steeper, until they were at nearly a 50-degree downward slant. That went on for quite some time before they came to the bottom of the steps, where a brazier-lighted tunnel went off into the distance.

Harry extinguished his wand and began walking, with Dobby at his heels. The tunnel meandered left and right, seemingly at random, but always in a southerly direction, according to Harry's internal sense of direction. The ceiling seemed damp in some places; Harry had no doubt that they were underneath the Great Lake by now.

It took some time, walking along the twisting, turning passageway, as Harry did not try to hurry, for Dobby's sake, but they eventually came to another set of steps leading upward; these steps lacked any lighting as well, so he brought out his wand again and lit their way upward.

At the top of the stairs there was a door, looking like any other door except that it was faded and peeling. Harry stopped for a moment, listening, as Dobby watched anxiously. There was no sound on the other side, so Harry pushed the door open. They stepped into a dark, dusty room with bare gray walls. The room itself was empty except for a pile of debris in one of the corners. Walking over, Harry saw it was a pile of candy wrappings from Honeydukes. Behind them, the door they had come through slowly closed of its own accord. As it shut the door faded, leaving only a bare wall in its place. "What happened?" Harry asked.

"The Come and Go Room has gone," Dobby said. "It does that when no one is inside it. Harry Potter cannot go back that way now."

"Not a big deal, I guess," Harry said, unconcerned. "I can take the passage back to the Whomping Willow." He would have preferred the walkway, though.

Another door led into a hall, and Harry recognized it as the main hallway of the Shrieking Shack. The matchbox containing his Mustang was still on a nearby shelf.

"Dobby," Harry asked. "Do you know the Three Broomsticks pub?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," Dobby nodded. "Dobby has had a drink there, with Professor Dumbledore, when we was discussing Dobby's freedom."

"Freedom? What do you mean?"

"Dobby is a free elf," Dobby said proudly. "The man who was pretending to be Harry Potter helped free Dobby from Master."

That was interesting! "Who was the man who was pretending to be me, Dobby?"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby has promised Professor Dumbledore he would not tell, Harry Potter! It is a very great secret, pretending that sir was still attending Hogwarts when sir wasn't. Dobby does not want to fail Professor Dumbledore."

"But Dumbledore is dead now," Harry reminded him. This only made Dobby hang his head sadly, however. "It's important for me to know, Dobby."

"Harry Potter already knows," Dobby pointed out. "Because Harry Potter wasn't here when the pretend Harry Potters were."

"That's true," Harry agreed, "but I wanted to be able to thank everyone who pretended to be me for all of their hard work."

Dobby looked doubtful about this. "Dobby doesn't know who all of the pretend Harry Potters were, only the one who freed him. He told Dobby he was Arthur Weasley."

Ron's father, Harry realized. He'd seen a picture of the man in the Prophet — thin and balding, but with the same red hair as Ron and Ginny. "Thanks, Dobby," he said, smiling. "I'll be sure to thank him the first chance I get. You did very well." Dobby beamed at the praise.

"For now," Harry went on. "We have to get that fish and rice to my father. Can you take us to the first floor hallway of Three Broomsticks?"

"Of course, Harry Potter," Dobby said, holding out a hand for Harry to take. Harry grasped it and they vanished from the Shrieking Shack.

Apparating with Dobby was a lot smoother than doing it the wizard's way — a moment later they were standing in the hallway outside rooms 110 and 112.

"It is about time you got here," a squeaky voice inside room 112 complained. "I am nearly faint from hunger." Harry withheld a sigh and started to knock for permission to enter, but Chiun's voice came again. "Stop letting the rice grow cold and come in. Bring your strange little companion as well."

Harry stepped into the room, with Dobby following quietly behind him, still holding the bowl of rice and fish. "Hello, Little Father," Harry said. "We brought you din—"

"I know, I know," Chiun said irritably, pointing to a pad on the floor in front of him. "Bring it here."

Dobby moved quickly, placing the bowl in front of Chiun. The Master of Sinanju stared at the contents. "Who prepared this?" he asked.

"Dobby did," the house-elf said, bowing low before Chiun. "Dobby hopes sir likes it."

Chiun sniffed. "It seems adequate," he said. He produced a pair of chopsticks from within the folds of his kimono. He picked up a few grains of rice with the chopsticks and placed them in his mouth. Dobby stared, rubbing his hands anxiously together. Harry said nothing, wondering what the verdict would be. He had liked the food, but that was no guarantee Chiun would, as Chiun prepared most of his own meals when at home and was quite critical of Remo's cooking.

After nearly a minute of chewing, Chiun looked up from the bowl. "Acceptable," he said, nodding slowly. "An interesting flavor, one I have not tasted before." He looked at the house-elf. "What is it?"

"Harry Potter has said there should be no seasoning," Dobby replied. "But the rice is steamed in a container made from woven lovage stems."

"What are you, creature?" Chiun asked baldly.

"Dobby is a house-elf, Master," Dobby said, bowing low again.

"Gracious Master," Chiun said, correcting him. "How do you know this Dobby?" he asked Harry.

"He works at the school," Harry replied. "There are more like him who work there as well."

"Over one hundred house-elves are at Hogwarts," Dobby said. "But Dobby is the only free elf."

"What?" Chiun looked up sharply. "What does this mean, 'free elf'?"

"There is some kind of compulsion on most house-elves," Harry explained. "They are forced to serve wizards and do whatever they say, even to punish themselves whenever they're told to or they feel they've failed to please the wizard they belong to."

"Oh, no!" Dobby exclaimed. "Harry Potter, house-elves enjoy pleasing wizards! What we do not enjoy is being treated poorly by wizards. When Master owned Dobby, he did not treat Dobby well at all. Dobby was not happy then, until Harry Potter made Master give him clothing, freeing him from Master."

"When did this happen?" Harry asked.

"When Dobby warned Harry Potter he should not return to Hogwarts," Dobby said. "Dobby knew that Master wanted Harry Potter to come to harm."

"But I didn't return to Hogwarts until just yesterday," Harry said. "So it must have been Arthur Weasley, pretending to be me, who helped you."

Chiun frowned. "This little one talks in riddles. Who is this 'Master' he speaks of? It was not I."

"Well, it's complicated," Harry admitted. "None of the books I've read say exactly how it happened, but long ago wizards subjugated the race of elves and made domestic servants of them. It's been that way ever since. Dobby, who was your Master?"

Dobby looked reluctant, but said, "Lucius Malfoy was Master. But Dobby must not speak ill of Master, even now!" He clapped his gnarled hands over his mouth, then began to run towards Chiun's trunks, to bash his head against them, but a hand suddenly moved, pressing against nerves in the half-elf's back, and he fell to the ground, paralyzed.

"Do these Stick Wigglers allow this?" Chiun asked, his voice filled with outrage. "They treat fellow beings like this little one as slaves? Are these the type of people you would live among, Harry?"

"Maybe not," Harry sighed. So far, except for the few friends he had left behind, nothing about returning to Hogwarts had been a good experience for him, and even seeing those few friends hadn't been entirely positive, either. "But there is some good news on the horizon, I hope."

"I would welcome some," Chiun said, thinly. "Especially since Doctor Wilson Wollencraft, chief surgeon of Mercy General Hospital, believes his fiancée Doctor Sarah Stoneburg has an inoperable brain tumor, and Marsha Freinstein, the administrator, refuses to allow him to try an experimental drug on her without approval from the pharmaceutical company's approval."

"I see…" Harry said. Chiun really took his daytime soaps seriously. "Well, I have a meeting tonight with some students who may be able to give me a line on Voldemort's whereabouts."

"I see…" the Master murmured. Harry couldn't tell if Chiun was mocking him or not; his expression was inscrutable. "And so, with this information, you plan to…"

"To find Voldemort and eliminate him," Harry finished, wondering if that conclusion was not completely obvious.

"Excellent!" the Master of Sinanju beamed. "Then with the death of Tarakasur we will be free to collect the balance of our fee and leave this benighted country!"

"Well, maybe," Harry said, shrugging. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Chiun squeaked in outrage. "What is left unclear to you? The Empress's representative does not act in her best interest until it is blatantly obvious he has no other recourse! These wizards enslave fellow beings! They tried to take you away your first day in the country! Would you still wish to live and work in a country like this for the rest of your life, foregoing Sinanju and your years of hard work to master it?"

"No — er, I don't know," Harry said, stubbornly. Then, "Well, maybe not." He shook his head. "I guess I didn't expect to find everything quite so screwed up as it seems to be."

"But —" Dobby, who'd been listening to this exchange, looked horror-struck. "Harry Potter would not leave us now, would he? What about the Bad-Man-Whose-Name-No-Wizard-Says? Will Harry Potter not make him stop hurting everyone?"

"I plan to," Harry said. "That's what I agreed to do."

"When will you do this?" Chiun asked. "Before or after your training tonight?"

"Well," Harry was hesitant. "I was thinking instead of, actually."

"Typical," Chiun sighed. "You are more and more like Remo every day — neglecting your training in order to run off and do errands for other white men."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Harry said, making a time-out gesture. "You've always told me that it's important to get the job done for your employer as quickly as possible! Now, the first time I'm actually doing that, and you're complaining about it!"

"I do not complain about what you do," Chiun retorted. "I complain about what you fail to do. You fail to take your training seriously."

"Fine," Harry snapped. "It's—" he consulted his internal clock "5:48 right now," he said. "We can train right now if you like, as long as you don't mind your rice and fish getting cold."

"I prefer them at room temperature," Chiun said happily. Now that he'd gotten his way, he was all sweetness and light. "You may dismiss your little friend, we will be quite busy for the next three hours."

Harry turned to Dobby. "Thanks for making the food for Chiun, Dobby. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Harry Potter is not leaving?" Dobby asked, warily. In spite of having heard every word spoken by Harry and the old yellow man, he had understood little of it.

"I'm not leaving," Harry agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast."

"Thank you, Harry Potter! Thank you!" Dobby bowed low again and vanished.

"And now," Chiun said, placing the bowl of food in a safe place (atop his stack of trunks), "Let us begin your training for this evening."

=ooo=

8:52 p.m.
The Whomping Willow

Harry reached out from the passage hidden between two roots of the Whomping Willow, his fingers searching for the knot on the tree that would keep it from attacking him. He found and pressed it, then emerged from the secret passage, checking to see if anyone was around. The moon, barely a sliver of silver light in the night sky, was mostly obscured by clouds, making it quite dark. Harry countered that by forcing his pupils to widen, allowing more light in, so that he could see more detail in the dark. That and his hearing allowed him to observe his surroundings as if it were broad daylight.

There were people lurking around the greenhouses, but their attention was focused on the nearby castle exit. It appeared they were waiting to see if he would come out of the east exit.

Not a bad plan on their part, as plans went: wait for him to leave the castle for the meeting spot, then follow and attack him from behind. But he hadn't been in the castle since five p.m., so however long they'd been waiting for him, it had been in vain. He would have to make sure they noticed him before he headed for the Forbidden Forest.

He was just outside the Whomping Willow's attack radius. Harry moved inside it, then stepped back just in time to avoid being hit by a swinging tree limb. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, making sure he would draw the lurkers' attention. He felt eyes on him and smiled to himself, then moved slowly enough for them to keep track of him as he skirted the Willow and headed toward the Forbidden Forest.

A path led from the Willow to Hagrid's hut, which was near the edge of the Forest. Harry had been here a few times during his first year, including the time he, Ron and Hermione had watched Hagrid hatch a dragon from an egg. All that seemed decades ago, though only five years had passed. Harry could hear Hagrid inside his hut, and smelled a rather disgusting odor that must be whatever he was smoking. Eyes were still on him from behind, so whoever was planning to ambush him in the Forbidden Forest, they were on his trail. Harry slipped by the hut and followed the path leading into the Forest.

It was even darker in the Forest, but that was no problem for Harry, who could still see well enough even in near-darkness. The group following him would probably use their wands to light their way. He came upon the clearing Malfoy had spoken of; it was a good size for a duel, roughly a fifty-foot circular clearing that might have been a centaur meeting-spot, since the ground was devoid of tree limbs and rocks. Malfoy must not have known that — the centaurs would not be happy to find humans using it, if they happened to show up while the duel was going on, or heard a commotion here. Well, Harry could deal with that if it happened.

At that moment, outside the Forbidden Forest, Malfoy was cautioning the group of Slytherins who'd come with him to be quiet. "We don't want that oaf Hagrid to hear us!" he hissed as quietly as he could. "We're going to sneak by his hut one at a time. We'll meet up just inside the entrance to the Forest."

"Are you sure Potter went into the Forest?" Gideon Scalby asked.

"I watched him go inside." Malfoy held up the pocket Omnioculars he'd been using. "No one was with him, so he's alone. This is going to be so easy!"

There were a total of ten in their group. Crabbe and Goyle, of course, as well as a number of fifth- and sixth-years. Even a fourth-year, Malcolm Baddock, had agreed to come along. "Remember," Malfoy whispered. "Quiet until we're past the hut, then stop just inside the Forest and wait for the rest of us." He motioned for Crabbe to go first. Crabbe lumbered off, making entirely too much noise to Draco's ears, but the stupid half-giant didn't seem to hear anything, and his gigantic mutt wasn't barking, so Draco kept his fingers crossed. Goyle went next, then the others, until Draco brought up the rear, like any competent leader should. The nine of them were clustered just inside the edge of the Forest, shivering in the cold and dark.

"Let's get inside a few yards then light our wands," Draco said, taking out his. "We don't want Hagrid to notice any light coming from the Forest."

"Or Potter, either," Harper said. "If he sees a lot of wands he may run off."

"True," Malfoy agreed. "Good thinking, Harper. Okay, no wands lit except mine."

"Why yours?" Wendelin Wilkes demanded. "The rest of us gotta see, too!"

"I'll hold my wand up so everyone can see it," Malfoy snapped. "And I'm using this—" he held up the Omnioculars "—so I can look ahead to see where Potter's at. But if you're scared, Wilkes, you can stay right behind me, where it's safe."

Wilkes face burned, but he sneered back, "Don't worry about me, Malfoy, I'm not afraid of Potter or anything in this Forest."

Draco snorted derision, then pushed his way to the head of the group and lit his wand, then started moving down the path toward the clearing ahead. He adjusted the Omnioculars to show detail even in the dim light, and kept his wand high and behind him so its light wouldn't wash out details in his viewfinder. There was a dim light farther ahead, about where the clearing should be. "Potter's got his wand lit," he whispered behind him. "When we get closer I'm going to douse my wand. Then we'll all rush forward into the clearing and surround him. Got it?" There were mutters of assent behind him. Draco kept moving forward. The light from Potter's wand was off to one side; Potter must be near the edge of the clearing, waiting to see when Draco would arrive. He was going to be awfully surprised when Draco showed up with, not two seconds, but nine!

Twenty feet out, Draco muttered, "Nox," dousing his wand. "Get ready," he whispered. "Now!" He ran forward, bursting into the clearing, with Crabbe, Goyle and the others close behind him. They all spread out once there, forming a half-circle in front of the entrance to the clearing, their wands all pointing toward Potter's lighted wand, illuminating the Boy-Who-Lived who was standing, cowering, at the clearing's edge, his wand held in front of him.

Except that Harry Potter wasn't there.

What they'd thought was Harry Potter was simply a twisted tree stump, with a branch extending out like an arm holding a wand. The light at the end of the branch was only a Muggle sparkler that was now sputtering the last of its sparks before going out, leaving only a dull red glow that darkened and died almost immediately.

There was a screech of pain behind Draco. Then another. Everyone spun toward the sound, seeing two of their number lying in the grass near the path leading back out of the clearing moaning in pain, holding a leg or a wand arm. Of Potter there was no sign. Draco strode back to the two Slytherins. "What happened?" he demanded.

The two on the ground didn't answer, preferring to moan in pain over their injuries. "We didn't see anything," Harper, standing next to one of the fallen, gibbered. "Alla sudden they screamed and fell!"

"Well they didn't do that to themselves!" Draco snapped. "It must've been Potter, sneaking up on us somehow!" How'd he do that? Had he somehow circled around behind them? "Everybody face outward, toward the forest!" Draco ordered, and the remaining eight Slytherin formed a circle, pulling the two wounded inside it. The hunters were now the hunted. "If you see anything," Draco said nervously. "Curse it!" There were mutters of agreement from around the circle.

"You guys are pathetic," Harry Potter's voice came from somewhere in the depths of the forest. Wands swung back and forth wildly as the Slytherins tried to pinpoint his location, but Potter's voice seemed to come from everywhere — and nowhere. "Ten of you to take on a single wizard? If you'd known better, you would have brought fifty. And that still wouldn't have been enough."

"Potter!" Draco shouted, anger overcoming fear. "You — you chickenshit! Now who's afraid to face who in a fair duel?!"

"Ten against one is hardly fair, Malfoy," Potter's voice came back, mocking him. "At least, not in your mind. You wanted to beat the crap out of me, didn't you? Maybe I'll take the rest of you on now, just to show you what a bad idea going up against me is. What do you say?"

"I say come ahead!" Draco shouted. "You don't stand a chance against eight of us in a wizard's duel!"

"Who said I was going to fight you like a wizard?" Harry's voice laughed.

"Then come out and fight!" Draco screamed, his wand trembling. "Everybody!" he yelled to the other Slytherin. "Stun Potter when you see him! When he's out we're going beat the crap out of him!"

Completely silent, Harry dropped headfirst from branches fifty feet above the forest floor, flipping in the final moment of the fall in a perfectly-executed Cat drop, landing silently among the Slytherins. "Behind you," he whispered in Malfoy's ear. Draco started to spin around. Harry took Malfoy's arm, tossing him into a clump of nearby Slytherins and sending them all tumbling like bowling pins.

Most of these students weren't seventh-years, so they were probably under 17 — and Sinanju tradition forbade killing children. But Harry wasn't planning on killing anyone — not unless he found someone bearing the Dark Mark. Anyway, not killing them didn't mean not hurting them.

With everyone so close together, Harry didn't even bother with a Scarlet Ribbon — a move used by Masters of Sinanju to make enemies fight one another rather than their intended target — but instead began wreaking close-quarters havoc, striking with his toes into kneecaps, his fingertips into elbow joints; each strike caused a snap or crack of broken bone. As quickly as wands were pointed at him, he knocked them away, driving them into another Slytherin's thigh or forearm.

Within a few seconds most of the Slytherins were sprawled on the forest floor, moaning or crying over their broken or impaled body parts. The only ones left on their feet were the three seventh-years: Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy, who'd managed to stand again after knocking over a handful of his House-mates.

"Still want a wizard's duel, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, only now taking out his own wand. "Just say the word — Expelliarmus!" he suddenly shouted as Crabbe pointed his own wand at Harry, about to fire off a curse. Harry caught the wand as it spun toward him. "Nice try, big guy, but no cigar," he said to the huge Slytherin. He turned back to Malfoy. "Well?"

Malfoy glared but dropped his wand to the ground in front of him. Goyle did the same. "Fine," Malfoy snarled. "You've won."

"Good," Harry smiled. "Be sure to tell Moldyshorts he's a chickenshit and a coward hiding behind his followers, afraid to take on the kid who kicked his ass all those years ago."

"Tell him yourself," Crabbe sneered, in his oddly soft voice. "He'll have you in chains and whipped to within an inch of your life soon enough."

"Since when did you start speaking for Malfoy, Crabbe?" Harry wanted to know.

Crabbe shrugged, saying nothing. Goyle, Harry could see, was staring at his fellow goon in surprise. Harry had a sudden intuition.

"Roll up your left sleeves," he said to the three seventh-years. "Let's see if any of you have the Dark Mark."

"The Aurors checked us when we came through the gates," Goyle spoke up, one of the few times Harry could remember hearing him talk. His voice was deeper than Crabbe's. "None of us have the Dark Mark!"

"We'll see," Harry said. "Roll up those sleeves!"

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle extended their arms, pulling back their sleeves. All of their arms were unmarked. "See?" Malfoy sneered triumphantly. "Told you!"

"Just hold them out there," Harry said, reaching into his pouch and taking out a vial of clear liquid. He walked toward the three seventh-years, removing the top of the vial, revealing a dropper.

Malfoy pulled back as Harry approached. "I'm not taking any Veritaserum, Potter!" he said loudly, so all the other Slytherins would hear.

Harry chuckled. "This isn't Veritaserum, Malfoy. It's a whole lot worse, though, especially if you've got a Dark Mark on your arm."

"Don't be an idiot!" Malfoy snapped. "You can see I don't!"

"Yeah, we'll see," Harry said. "Keep your arm out." He put two drops of liquid on Malfoy's left forearm. The drops rolled off with no effect.

"You're clear," Harry said. He stepped over to the next in line, Goyle, and put two drops on his forearm, with the same result. "You, too," he said to Goyle.

When he got to Crabbe, who was still on the ground, the big Slytherin was staring up at Harry with a combination of hatred and fear. When the two drops touched his forearm, there was a loud BANG and a sizzle. The image of a black skull with a snake protruding from the jaws appeared on Crabbe's arm, and even the other, injured Slytherins craned their necks to get a better view.

"There it is!" Harry said triumphantly, putting the lid back on the vial and holding it up so everyone could see. "This is Thief's Downfall, from Gringotts," he said. "The goblins sell this, though it's pretty goddam expensive. This vial cost 500 Galleons, for example. But you can see it's pretty good at exposing hidden Dark Marks as well as all other illusions and concealment enchantments." He put the vial back into his pouch.

"Now the question," he said, turning back to Crabbe, "is, what do I do with you now that I know you have the Dark Mark and are working for Voldemort?"

"It's his fault," Crabbe muttered, pointing at Malfoy.

"My fault?!" Malfoy sputtered. "Is not!"

"Is too," Crabbe said. "Your parents talked the Dark Lord out of putting the Mark onto you. But the Dark Lord wanted someone in Hogwarts with the Mark, to keep him informed of what's going on here, so my father volunteered me. The Dark Lord worked out a spell to conceal the Dark Mark from the Aurors." He glared at Harry. "But I guess he didn't know about that damned goblin water."

"Too bad for you," Harry said, coldly. He stood over Crabbe, arms on his hips. "So here's what you're going to do. Tomorrow you're going to leave Hogwarts, and you won't come back until that Mark is off your arm."

"And what if I come back with it?" Crabbe asked, his voice soft but still defiant.

"Then that arm belongs to me."

Crabbe laughed softly. "Think you can scare me, Potter?"

Harry stepped past him, walking over the edge of the clearing where a thick branch the size of Crabbe's arm protruded from a tree. "Yeah, Vinnie," he said. "I think I can." He reached up, taking hold of the branch, then twisted. With a loud CRACK the branch snapped off in his hand. He walked back and dropped it between Crabbe's legs as a wet spot began to spread beneath the big Slytherin's crotch. "That'll be your arm in the dirt if you're here tomorrow after lunch. Maybe Madam Pomfrey can grow you a new one." He looked around at the other Slytherins scattered around the clearing. "That goes for anyone else here who's thinking about taking the Dark Mark. I'm sure you're all pretty used to having your arms attached to your shoulders. Think about that when your parents or friends want you to join Voldemort's side." He looked directly at Malfoy. "And the next time one of you pulls any funny business, it's going to be no more Mister Nice Guy."

Harry turned and walked away from them, back up the path leading out of the Forbidden Forest. It didn't even matter now if they ratted him out to McGonagall — he would fulfill his contract to kill Voldemort and then be done with this country for good. For all of the Boy-Who-Lived and "Chosen One" hoopla, he was little more than a stranger here, distrusted by everyone he'd come into contact with, except his godfather Sirius.

As he walked back toward the edge of the forest, Harry felt eyes upon him from within the forest, someone other than the Slytherins he'd left behind. There were centaurs in this forest — could one of them be tracking him? He slowed a bit and listened, but didn't hear the sound of hooves on the forest floor. A two-legged stalker, then. Could it be Chiun or Remo? Harry smiled at that idea — if it had been either of them he never would have heard them.

Should he go after whoever it was? Harry grimaced. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone else tonight. In his present mood it could get ugly. Harry decided to ignore it.

Once clear of the Forest, Harry went into stealth mode, slipping into the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room without being noticed by any wall portraits or wandering ghosts or Peeves. He might as well get some studying in before going to bed, just in case none of the Slytherin wanted to risk being kicked out of school by tattling on him.

=ooo=

9:35 p.m.
The Room of Requirement

"Ron," Dean said. "I don't think Potter's coming."

"He said he would," Ron said stubbornly. "Let's give him a few more minutes."