A/N: Hey everyone! First, my apologies - I decided recently to drastically overhaul the Konoha one-shot, so it's not ready yet. Once it's finished, I'm just going to post it on the site so that everyone can read it. For now, however, I'm going to focus on writing more chapters for this story and Rise of the Uchiha. Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed - you deserve extra hugs and cookies.

This chapter we continue with the summer before Year Three at Hogwarts, following Draco's initial training, the Golden Trio's time with Sirius, and the increasingly troubling situation at Durmstrang. There will be one more chapter to round out the summer, and then another chapter to cover the events on the Hogwarts Express. Review, or else I'll sic Kreacher on you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter

Chapter 20: Oaths and Promises

"Are you ready?"

Sarutobi Hiruzen sat at a small, wooden table, across from Draco. They were alone except for Dobby, who was puttering around in the kitchen area, making breakfast on a gas-burning stove.

Draco swallowed, noting distantly how dry his throat felt. The tight, painful knot in his stomach wasn't fear. It was excitement.

"Yes."

"You must be absolutely certain," Sarutobi said once more, authority clinging to him as if flowing from his white robes. "Once you start down this path, there is no turning back."

Draco snorted impatiently. "Turning back was never an option. Orochimaru made that decision for me."

The Professor bowed his head. "Very well. Then the first thing you should know is that Orochimaru was once my student."

He paused, watching Draco carefully for his reaction. Draco kept his expression under control, waiting for more.

"He was my greatest failure. I did not see the darkness growing in his heart. Orochimaru began to carry out twisted, evil experiments on human subjects - innocent civilians, even children. He abducted and murdered dozens of people before we discovered what he was doing, and when the time came to kill him... I couldn't. I thought I could keep him contained, imprisoned - but he escaped, and ever since then he has continued to slaughter innocents in his search for dominion over the known world. Your parents are the latest in a long string of murders that I could have prevented, had I acted when it was in my power to end his life. For that, Draco, I am truly sorry."

If Draco had not promised his parents during their funeral that he would not cry, he might have broken down then. Instead, he clamped down his emotions ruthlessly. Even though a part of Draco was angry, furious even, that Sarutobi had not killed Orochimaru before he could make Draco an orphan, it was impossible to think of Sarutobi as his enemy after looking into Orochimaru's eyes.

Those slitted pupils were windows into hell, and that pale face with its knowing sneer took up every ounce of Draco's hate. There was simply not enough left to direct towards Sarutobi, who was also the only person treating Draco like an adult instead of pitying him. Draco said nothing, feeling empty inside.

"I am in this country for one purpose," Sarutobi went on. "To kill Orochimaru. But he is at the height of his strength, and I have grown old and weak. At the end of last year, Dumbledore and I were able to outmatch Orochimaru, but we could not destroy him. Now that he has failed once, he will be even more careful in his next attempt. He is practically immortal, which means that time favors him much more than it favors us. If we are to be victorious, I must do more than fight Orochimaru myself. I must prepare the Wizarding world to fight beside me." Sarutobi fixed Draco with a piercing look. "That's where you come in."

Dobby interrupted them for a moment, bringing a tray laden with tea and biscuits to the table. The tip of his long nose was just visible over the teapot. "Professor Sabby-tabby must be thirsty from such important talk," Dobby said, bowing reverently once he deposited his burden in front of them. "And Master Draco must keep up his strength."

"Thank you, Dobby," Sarutobi said, unexpected mirth in his eyes. Draco waved Dobby away impatiently.

"So will you teach me?" Draco demanded, unable to keep the longing out of his tone. "Will you teach me to fight like you?"

Sarutobi poured himself a cup of tea, his eyes weighing Draco like a chunk of dragonflesh in the black market at Knockturn Alley.

"That depends on you. I'm willing to train you, but I require a few assurances before I start."

"What do you want?" Draco demanded. "I'll do anything!" If it meant acquiring the skills to avenge his parents, there was nothing Draco wouldn't do.

Sarutobi tilted his head slightly to one side. If anything, he looked disappointed. "That's what I'm afraid of," he whispered, so softly that Draco almost couldn't make it out. But before Draco could say anything, Sarutobi shook his head with sudden resolve, like a wet dog briskly shaking itself dry. "But that is neither here nor there. Draco, I will teach you, but only if you swear a magically binding oath that you will never misuse the skills that you learn from me. I have no desire to create another Orochimaru."

Draco was too confused to feel insulted. "What?"

Sarutobi sighed, then took a delicate sip of tea from his china cup. "I unleashed one monster on this world," Sarutobi said, a lifetime of grief shining, raw, in his eyes. "I will not repeat my mistake. Right now you seek only revenge - a worthy goal, in its way, but vulnerable to all kinds of evil. Your parents were not saints, Draco. They served the Dark Lord Voldemort in the last war, torturing and murdering innocent people. I will help you avenge them, but I refuse to allow you to become them."

Draco felt like someone had swung a hammer into his gut, driving his breath from his lungs with a sudden shock. But many years of conditioning brought the automatic response to his lips. "My parents were forced to act under the Imperius Curse. They were tried by the Wizengamot and cleared of all charges." These were the words Draco had been taught to say, if anyone ever accused his parents of being Death Eaters. It had been many years since anyone had possessed the sheer stupidity to broach that topic with Draco.

Sarutobi looked somewhat less than impressed with Draco's denial. "How well they have you trained," he sighed.

Draco opened his mouth, furious, but Sarutobi raised a hand, cutting him off. "Let us leave this discussion for another day. The bottom line is this: if you swear to follow my directions and accept my conditions, then I will turn you into a warrior. If not, you can go your own way with my best wishes. What do you say?"

Draco gritted his teeth, resenting the power that Sarutobi had over him, hating that he couldn't defend his parents against people who insulted them. But Sarutobi wasn't the enemy here, no matter what Draco's pride said. Orochimaru was the enemy, and Draco wouldn't let himself forget that for an instant.

"There's only one answer," Draco said, glowering. "You made bloody sure of that. I'll follow your rules."

"Very well," said Sarutobi, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. "Then let us begin."

Draco followed the Professor outside, pausing momentarily to snatch a biscuit from Dobby's tray. The cottage where Draco and Dobby were staying was in the middle of a field somewhere in England, but apart from that Draco had no idea where they were. Sarutobi had promised him that it was a secure location, protected by all possible magical means.

Someone was waiting for them just outside the cottage. Professor Dumbledore stood on the front porch, puffing contentedly on his pipe. His eyes twinkled briefly, but he wore a sad smile as they approached. "Mr. Malfoy," said the Headmaster, putting away his pipe, "I offer my sincere condolences. Your parents fought against the most dangerous threat Wizarding Britain has ever seen, and all to protect you. They were very heroic, and I am truly sorry for your loss."

"Heroism didn't seem to help them much," Draco snapped before he could help himself.

Dumbledore stroked his beard contemplatively. "Perhaps not. But neither was their sacrifice in vain. You are alive, are you not? And where there is life, there is hope."

Dumbledore's unshakable calm was irritating Draco beyond control. "I don't need your platitudes, old man!" he sneered. "I need to learn how to fight."

Sarutobi shot Draco a stern look, but Dumbledore ignored his tone. "That's why I'm here," he said simply. "If you've agreed to Professor Sarutobi's conditions, then I will administer the magical binding. You must swear the Unbreakable Vow."

"What?!" Draco whirled to Sarutobi, shock and outrage warring on his face. "The Unreakable Vow - that's practically medieval! You can't accept my word as a Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid not," Sarutobi replied. "That is my price. You must swear to do no harm, to anyone, unless authorized by myself or Professor Dumbledore, or else in defence of your life or the lives of others."

"I have to be 'authorized' by you?" Draco demanded. "What does that mean, that I'm your personal lackey?"

"No," Sarutobi replied. "I simply want to ensure that you will never use the skills I teach you to harm innocent people. But sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good, so I have left provision for unforeseen circumstances - if the Headmaster or I deem it necessary, you will be able to fight with your full force. Most importantly, since your life is always in danger from Orochimaru, your oath will not get in the way of your revenge. And if Dumbledore and I were both to perish, the oath would cease to hold you."

Draco did not want to swear the oath - it felt too much like trapping himself, and Draco had learned enough from his father to want to avoid letting anyone, even Professor Sarutobi, gain such total power over him. But when all the advantage was on the other side, only a fool refused a chance to improve his position.

"I will swear," Draco said, trying not to sound petulant.

"Very well." Dumbledore drew his wand, gesturing Draco and Sarutobi to step closer. "Please kneel, and clasp your right hands together, if you would."

Draco stared challengingly into Sarutobi's eyes, though he marveled at the strength in the old man's fingers. Sarutobi spoke first, his voice the only sound in the meadow. For a moment, even the wind seemed to stop and listen.

"Will you, Draco Malfoy, agree to obey me, Hiruzen Sarutobi, in all matters pertaining to your training in arts magical or military?"

"I will."

As Draco agreed, a thin line of red fire appeared from the end of Dumbledore's wand, twining around Draco's and Sarutobi's enjoined hands. It flared briefly, then sank into Draco's skin. It was both hot and cold, burning with an icy pain. Draco shivered.

"And will you swear never to inflict harm on another unless your life or the lives of others are in danger, or unless specifically authorized by me or Professor Dumbledore?"

Draco paused for a moment longer this time. Then he bowed his head, acknowledging the inevitable. "I will."

A second stream of fire, a little thicker this time, twined around their hands and disappeared. Dumbledore made a satisfied sound, and tucked his wand away in an inner pocket of his robes. "That should do it. Mr. Malfoy, I wish you all the best in the coming month. You have an excellent teacher, and I encourage you to make the most of it. Once the school year begins, the quality of your instruction will no doubt take a turn for the worse."

He Disapparated with a pop, leaving Draco and Sarutobi alone on the porch. Draco got up, his knees wobbling just a bit, and watched Sarutobi warily.

"What happens now?"

"Now?" Sarutobi let out a humorless bark of laughter. "Now, I begin your first lesson concerning the physical limits of the human body."

"What in Merlin's name does that mean?"

Sarutobi clapped his hands, and with a crack and a cloud of smoke three vicious-looking dogs appeared, giant mastiffs with spiked collars and drool dripping from wicked teeth.

"It means that you should begin running, and not stop running until I tell you," Sarutobi declared. "Otherwise the last of the Malfoys will meet an ignoble and painful death."

As Draco was disappearing into the distant trees, dogs close at his heels, the house-elf Dobby joined Sarutobi on the porch. The elf squinted his big eyes, watching the chase with a worried frown. "Will Master Draco be all right, Professor Sabby-tabby?"

The Professor sighed. "I hope he will, Dobby. I really hope he will."

oOoOo

The night that Sarutobi threatened Vernon and gave Harry his Portkey, the Boy Who Lived couldn't sleep for excitement. His anticipation only grew the next morning, right up until 8:59am, one minute before his Portkey was supposed to activate and reunite him with his Godfather, Sirius Black.

At precisely 9:00am, Harry Potter learned something new about himself: he absolutely hated Portkeys. As his pendant activated and Harry's insides were sucked out through his navel, he had just enough time to realize that he would experience this unpleasant sensation twice a day, every day, until the end of summer. If his jaw hadn't been clenched tight, Harry would have groaned.

Before Harry's ears stopped ringing, before he even knew where he was, he was enveloped in a bone-breaking hug.

"Harry!" Sirius cried out, squeezing his godson so tight that Harry thought he heard his ribs creak.

Harry tried to say something, but it was muffled by Sirius' robes. Instead, he simply hugged back for all he was worth. When they stepped away, Sirius mussed up Harry's hair playfully, grinning like the madman he was accused of being.

"How are you, Harry? Letting the Muggles get you down?"

Harry laughed, feeling happier than he could remember. "Not a chance, Sirius. Especially not now that I can start training again."

A speculative light came into Sirius' eyes. "Dumbledore told me about the three of you, but I didn't believe him at first. Merlin's Beard, you're not even thirteen! But you went toe to toe with Lucius Malfoy..."

Harry's face fell, remembering that terrifying, exhilarating fight. Sirius guessed the way his thoughts were turning, and winced.

"Sorry Harry, I didn't mean to remind you of that. No one your age should have to take a life. But I want you to know - I'm so proud of you. You saved lives that day. I'm just sorry I wasn't there fighting with you."

Harry shook his head fiercely. "You had your own fight. I heard from Dumbledore. What was it like, in the Forest? I heard you rode a centaur!"

Sirius put a finger to his lips and shh-ed him comically. "Don't spread that around, Harry! If Bane thought I was bragging about that, he'd shoot me full of arrows. But I'll tell you, I'm grateful for what he did." Sirius looked away, remembering. "I still dream about that day, trying to get to the edge of the Forest with a horde of Acromantulas all around us... I had a few closer calls during my Hogwarts days, but not many."

Harry forced himself to grin, trying to lighten the mood. "So when do we start training? That's why I'm here, right?"

Sirius nodded. "You're damn right. But before we start, I should warn you. I've got a few other guests who are anxious to see you."

Right on cue, Ron and Hermione came running in from the next room. The next few minutes were lost in a round of hugging (Hermione and Harry), manly back-slapping (Ron and Harry), and jumbled questions flying so fast that it was impossible to understand half of them (from all three).

"When did you get here?"

"How's your summer been?"

"Did your relatives lock you up again?"

"Mum's been worried sick about you!"

Sirius watched them all, amusement warring with joy in his expression. After believing that he was doomed to die without ever again seeing the people he loved, the sight of his godson reuniting with his friends was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye. He gave them a few minutes, until he'd judged that they had run out of questions. Then he clapped sharply, arresting their attention.

"That's enough of that mushy stuff," he declared, trying to keep the grin off of his face. "You're here to work, not prance around like pixies at a potluck."

He was expecting them to laugh at the image, but the kids surprised him by falling silent immediately. Their backs straightened until they were practically at attention. Sirius was surprised to see such discipline from them, but he knew immediately where it had come from. Professor Sarutobi had certainly had an effect on these youngsters. Sirius was looking forward to testing their skills.

"You haven't had a tour of the house yet," he said, pacing back and forth in front of them, "but that will have to wait. I've been told you usually begin with meditation, correct?"

All three nodded. "Right, then that's how we'll begin," Sirius declared. "Make yourselves comfortable, and clear your minds. Then we'll get to the fun stuff."

Sirius remained standing, while the three children sat cross-legged on the luxurious carpet, decorated with the Black family crest. Of the three of them, Hermione seemed the most comfortable. Her face betrayed no impatience, only a deep calm. Sirius had heard a lot about her from Sarutobi and Dumbledore, and guessed that Hermione's naturally organized mind found meditation fairly natural. Ron had the hardest time, twitching every now and again as he fought to keep his thoughts centered.

After a while, Sirius stopped keeping an eye on the children and ran through his own mental exercises. Meditation was the foundation of skilled Occlumency, and Occlumency had helped him keep his sanity while he had been in Azkaban. It was impossible to protect one's mind completely against Dementors, and not even Occlumency could keep them from making him relive his worst memories, but the discipline of the technique had kept his wits sharp even in his despair.

Sirius knew that these children weren't capable of Occlumency yet, but with minds well ordered from regular meditation, they soon would be. Sirius could hear Kreacher muttering in the other room, and somewhere a fly was buzzing like crazy, but he firmly ignored all extraneous distractions until they melted into insignificance.

An hour or so later, Sirius told them to stop. "Excellent work, you three. But sitting on our arses won't save the world. Let's go to the Arena."

"The Arena?" Ron breathed, his eyes lighting up. "Are we going to fight lions or something?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "Now wouldn't that be something? Unfortunately, I haven't had enough time to train up any lions for you would-be gladiators. Follow me – you'll see when we get there."

He led them through a narrow hallway, paintings of severe witches and wizards frowning at them as they passed. There was even a solitary suit of armor, and an extremely dour house-elf polishing one armoured foot with a dirty rag.

"That's Kreacher," Sirius said dismissively. "He came with the house. Try not to trip over him, and pay no attention to what he says. He's a vicious little blighter."

"Master is jesting," Kreacher growled, eyeing them warily. "Master always loved his jests. And his blood traitor friends…"

"You see that?" Sirius shrugged. "Just ignore him. He's nasty, but harmless."

Harry shrugged and kept walking, but Hermione cast several glances back over her shoulder at the elf, who continued to mutter foul imprecations just loud enough to be overheard.

They arrived at a wooden door with a metal doorknob. "The Arena" was gouged messily into the wood.

"Here we are," Sirius announced proudly. "It used to be Mum's old sitting room, but I couldn't stand the mothballed furniture, so I threw it all out. Then I thought about putting in a Space-Expanding Charm, and everything just kind of went from there. Professor Sarutobi had a few helpful suggestions for how I should equip the place."

They experienced a slight jerk as they entered, the walls pushing back until the four of them were at the edge of a chamber the size of a football field. It didn't look much like any arena Harry had ever seen, but it was equipped with training dummies and all kinds of equipment. To their right was a large shelf with dozens of strange weapons, some of which the three Gryffindors recognized from Sarutobi's office.

"What will we be doing?" Hermione asked politely. "Professor Sarutobi used to have us spar to warm up."

"We'll get to that," Sirius assured her. "But first, I have to get an idea of where you three are at. So it's time for your first exam, Auror style. On the fly and highly dangerous."

Sirius waved his wand in the direction of the shelves against the wall, and shouted, "Accio Briefcase!"

A sleek metallic case shot through the air toward him. Sirius snatched it by the black handle, and laid it flat on the ground. Harry, Ron, and Hermione leaned in, eyeing the briefcase curiously. "This is an All-in-One Auror Obstacle Course," Sirius said proudly. "Cost me a fortune, but thanks to my dear old Mum, I've got one. I knew coming from a rich family of Blood Purists would pay off some day - I just had to wait until they were all dead."

Sirius tapped the briefcase smartly with his wand, and said, "Configuration One!"

The briefcase popped open, and out of it came a torrent of wooden planks and metal parts. Before their eyes the materials began to assemble by themselves, creating full-sized houses, street-lamps, and even little metal stalls like those belonging to street vendors in London. In less than a minute an entire street had appeared out of nowhere - it was a quaint, sleepy-looking street, lined by 4-story apartment buildings, pushcarts, and a few cars.

Last to fly out of the briefcase were cardboard cut-outs of people. The Gryffindors only had a time for a quick glance before the cut-outs flew off to various locations on the make-shift street. Many more disappeared behind the buildings, or hid out of sight.

Ron looked at Harry and whistled. "Bloody brilliant!" he breathed.

Harry shook his head in admiration. "You said it, mate."

Hermione's face reflected pure wonder. "How in the world... there's transfiguration involved, and charms to animate the objects... but how did they embed the instructions for assembly? Maybe a Part-for-Whole enchantment..."

Sirius couldn't help laughing. "Hermione, we're running the obstacle course, not reverse-engineering it. That will be your extra credit assignment, ok?"

She looked so determined that Sirius didn't have the heart to tell her he was joking. "Right, you three. You see before you an average street in an average district of London. Everything's cheery, right? The Muggles are carrying on with their lives, none the wiser. Pedestrians are enjoying the sunlight, and vendors are selling fish and chips. Unfortunately, there are Death Eaters about."

Harry grinned with exhilaration, and for a moment he looked so much like James that Sirius lost track of what he was saying. He disguised his slip with a fit of coughing.

"...as I said, Death Eaters. Your job is to get to the end of the street, neutralizing any Death Eaters that pop up along the way. Points will be deducted for missing, and Merlin help you if you hit any Muggles. This is a test of your precision casting and situational awareness, both of which are vital skills for an Auror. Muggle police have a similar test, though they train with guns instead of wands. Now, who wants to go first?"

Hermione and Harry raised their hands instantly, but strangely, Ron didn't. Sirius looked at him, wondering if the redhead was intimidated. But his face held no trace of anxiety, only calculation. Then Sirius realized - Ron didn't want to go first, because he wanted to see what dangers the course held. He didn't want to go in blind. Sirius' respect for the boy skyrocketed.

"Harry, let's see what you make of it," Sirius said. He took a pocketwatch out of his robes and held it up, as his godson crouched at the edge of the makeshift street. It was fifty yards from end to end, and there were about a dozen street vendors and twice that many pedestrian cutouts walking around, animated by magic. "Go!"

Harry advanced warily, his wand out and his eyes scanning all directions. The first Death Eater appeared behind a stall on Harry's left, right next to a vendor selling roasted peanuts. Harry's Stupefy hit the blank Death Eater mask right in between the eyes.

The course became progressively more difficult, with Death Eaters appearing in groups of two and three, and even swooping down on fake broomsticks from the roofs of buildings. Harry took them all out beautifully, his spells never once hitting any of the innocent bystanders.

Only once did Harry have any trouble, which occurred when a Death Eater cutout emerged suddenly from a pothole as Harry was walking by. It was so close Harry didn't have space to raise his wand, and he stumbled momentarily. He caught himself a second later and executed a diving roll to the right, coming up on one knee to fire a blasting curse at the Death Eater. He was so startled that he put a little too much power behind it, so that not only did the cutout explode, but a section of the street five yards in diameter exploded too. A chunk of cobblestone narrowly missed a cutout of a fashionable woman wearing a faux-fur coat.

Harry reached the end of the street, while Ron and Hermione gave loud cheers. When he rejoined the group, however, he looked disappointed. "I can't believe I messed that up," he groused.

"Are you kidding?" Sirius demanded. "That was brilliant! You're a natural - there are veteran Aurors who don't cast with half that accuracy. As for the moment there at the end, just file it away for future reference. If you're fighting enemies that can Apparate, you have to be prepared for close-quarters spellwork. Keep your wand arm up at all times, with your wrist higher than your elbow. It will significantly increase your response time."

Harry nodded, acknowledging Sirius' praise, but not letting it go to his head. Sirius tried not to let his consternation show. He had heard how well the kids were doing, but hearing and seeing were two completely different things. Harry was much more accurate than Sirius had been before the war, and his professional attitude was light-years ahead of the Marauders during their school years - except perhaps Lupin, Sirius amended.

"Can I go next?" Ron asked, eyes alight.

"I don't see why not," Sirius said, after Hermione gracefully gestured for Ron to go ahead. "Harry's time was one minute, twenty-seven seconds. See if you can beat it."

Ron grinned at Harry, his competitive side emerging clearly. "Not a problem." He turned to the obstacle course, but before Sirius could tell him to begin, Ron muttered a spell under his breath. "Telum Lumina." A burst of light erupted from his wand and encased it, assuming the shape of a long knife, almost a sword, made of translucent violet light.

Harry swore. "Why didn't I think of that?" he groaned. Ron laughed, but it was good-natured instead of gloating.

"Strategy, mate."

Sirius gave the command for Ron to begin, curious to see what the purpose of Ron's spell was. It became clear when Ron reached the Death Eater that had taken Harry by surprise. Instead of rolling away, Ron lunged low, lashing out with his wand without bothering to cast a spell. Sirius' jaw dropped as the modified wand tore through the cutout like it was tissue paper. The Death Eater mask went flying through the air.

Ron finished a few seconds later than Harry, because he wasn't quite as accurate. Some of the Death Eaters swooping in on brooms evaded him once or twice. When he rejoined the group, Ron also looked as though he wanted another chance.

"Well done, Ron," Sirius congratulated him. "I especially liked that sword-spell. Since it stays activated while you cast other spells, I can see how it would be useful in combat situations. Especially if you could Apparate... some time soon, I'm going to need you three to teach me that one."

Sirius waved Hermione forward, smiling.

"Your turn, Miss Granger. Show these boys how it's done."

The bushy-haired witch smiled back, and to his surprise, Sirius saw a competitive gleam in her eyes that easily rivaled that of Ron and Harry. It wasn't that surprising, though, when he thought about it. A Muggleborn witch leading her class by a wide margin - she clearly had a powerful drive to prove herself. During her Hogwarts years, Lily Evans had been much the same.

Hermione wasn't quite as quick with her wand as Ron or Harry, but she displayed technical skill that put them both to shame. During the first half of the test she lost a few points for missing the trickier Death Eaters, and she blasted one Muggle out of existence with a Reducto that hit him in the chest, but she quickly regained her lead when the Death Eaters on brooms began attacking her.

To the astonishment of all three wizards, Hermione levitated small, round stones from within a pocket of her robes. She enlarged all of them with an Expansion Charm that Sirius believed was O.W.L level, and them Banished them with such speed that the Death Eater cutouts didn't have a prayer of dodging. She consistently took out multiple targets, employing her barrage of stones to great effect.

She finished the course and returned, breathing heavily but with her head held high. She completed the course in one minute and fifteen seconds, beating Harry and Ron by a wide margin.

"Wonderful, Hermione," Sirius declared. "How did you come up with the idea to attack the ones on brooms like that?"

"I always carry the stones with me," said Hermione, "since they're easy to manipulate with magic, and they make good shields as well as good weapons. I used them against the Death Eaters on brooms because I didn't have to worry about hitting any Muggles. There was no reason to take them out one by one, when an area attack would work much faster."

"Full marks, Hermione," Sirius beamed. He couldn't wait to duel these kids - he had a feeling they had many more tricks up their sleeves. But he had a few, too...

"Brilliant as always, Hermione," said Ron, pride in his friend warring with annoyance at coming in third. "But why did you blast that poor Muggle? Your aim isn't usually off by that much."

Aha! Sirius had hoped someone would ask her that. Hermione shook her head firmly.

"That was no Muggle. He was wearing cargo shorts and a suit jacket - no Muggle would ever think that was all right. Besides, his wand was sticking out of his right pocket."

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione, open-mouthed. Sirius patted the witch on the back. "She sure showed you two, eh? Don't let it get to you, though - I don't think anyone but Mad-Eye Moody has ever gotten that on the first try before."

"Blimy, Hermione..." Ron said, rolling his eyes. "You're downright superhuman sometimes."

She blushed bright red, right to the roots of her bushy hair.

"So the clear winner of Round One is Hermione Granger, ladies and gentlemen!" Sirius declared in his best announcer voice. "But it's not over yet. Potter and Weasley have a chance to take back the lead."

The three Gryffindors were all ears. "Configuration 2!" Sirius shouted, waving his wand. Immediately the street began to shift and rearrange, the houses dismantling as if caught in a tornado, wood and metal dancing in the air and merging to form new shapes. A minute later the street was gone, and in its place was an obstacle course with wooden logs, ropes strung over mud-filled trenches, and even a twenty-foot wall made of rope that one had to climb over.

"This one tests your physical endurance and speed," said Sirius. "Let's see what you hotshots can do when you can't rely on your magic."

The rest of the morning passed in much the same way, as Sirius ran through the battery of Auror tests in order to determine what his new students needed to practice. After the obstacle course there was a flying test, which Harry passed with flying colors. Ron did fairly well, but it was clear that Hermione needed to work on her flying. Anti-Apparition wards were a common element in wizarding wars, so the ability to ride a broom well was vital, both as a means of escape and a form of combat.

One area where Hermione clearly excelled was in medical magic and magical first aid. With her nearly photographic memory and voracious appetite for knowledge, she could perform emergency blood-clotting spells and even brew restorative potions and antidotes for many poisons. The boys were not nearly as versed in those aspects of Auror training, a fault that Sirius vowed to correct as soon as possible. No matter how skilled a witch or wizard was in combat, it didn't matter if he or she was incapable of healing comrades wounded on the battlefield.

When all three Gryffindors were thoroughly exhausted, both physically and mentally, Sirius had them stop for lunch. Right on time, Kreacher entered the Arena with a trolley heaped full of foods high in protein and carbohydrates, along with several potions meant to replenish nutrients that the children had used up while training.

Sirius sighed when he saw that most of the food was either overcooked or undercooked. Kreacher followed his orders, but he always found loopholes to make life a little bit worse for Sirius. Not for the first time, Sirius wished he could free the little terror and move on. Unfortunately, it was too much of a security risk, so Sirius would have to grit his teeth and bear it.

Hermione tried to make eye contact with the house-elf. "Thank you for the food, Kreacher."

"What is that the Mudblood is saying?" Kreacher muttered to himself. "She thanks Kreacher? What is the world coming to, that Kreacher must serve Mudbloods in the venerable House of Black..."

"Oi, you!" Ron snarled, coming to his feet in an instant. "Watch that filthy mouth, or I'll wash it out with soap!"

Hermione was watching Kreacher with an equal mixture of hurt and sadness, but she jumped in surprise when Ron came to her defense.

"That's enough, Ron," Sirius said. "Kreacher, you're dismissed. If you use that word again in my presence, it will mean clothes." It was an empty threat, and Kreacher knew it. But he bowed low and left, muttering all the while.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Ron, trying to lighten the mood. "Wash his mouth out with soap? Are you emulating your Mum now, Ronald?"

The youngest male Weasley blushed red, electing not to answer by piling several slices of ham on a piece of toast.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione fell on the food like a pack of ravening wolves, giving Sirius a strong sense of nostalgia. It was like watching himself, James, Remus, and Wormtail in the Great Hall all those years ago, putting away enough food for a dozen people after a long night of causing mischief.

"You're all far beyond where I thought you'd be," Sirius told them as they ate. "But most likely due to limited time, Professor Sarutobi has focused exclusively on your combat skills. We'll continue that, but I also want to bring you up to speed on magical first aid and Potions. That's as important as any other aspect of being an Auror, which is what I'm going to turn you into this summer. Of course, with what you've learned from Sarutobi, you're going to go far beyond the limits of the usual Auror training. But you need a strong base to build from, and that's what I hope to give you."

In the afternoon they had a series of duels, both one-on-one and in pairs, and Sirius learned as much from the children as he taught them. They used magic in ways that he had never considered, displaying a creativity that amazed him. This was definitely Sarutobi's legacy, because the tactical imagination guiding these students was nothing taught at Hogwarts. Sirius was forced to dodge giant boulders, leap away from pits that opened up under his feet, and neutralize clouds of paralyzing mist. He was particularly impressed with a modified Shield Charm that Hermione called on, which surrounded her entire body and deflected curses from all directions.

The time passed in a flash, and before he knew it, it was almost time for his students to return home. Sirius called a halt several minutes before their Portkeys were supposed to activate, so that he could give them some final words of advice.

He looked around at the three of them, pride welling up inside him as he read the determination in their sweat-streaked faces. "You've all done well today. But training doesn't end when you go home. The Headmaster and Professor Dumbledore have put together a summer curriculum for you, which means you have some homework to look forward to."

Ron groaned out loud, and ducked quickly when Hermione tried to swat the back of his head. "This house is warded, which is why even the Ministry can't tell if you perform under-age magic here. But when you're at home they can track you, which means you'll have to focus on other things. From now on you'll study the Auror manual Of Potions and Poisons, and summarize what you learn every night. We'll also move your meditation to the evening, so that when you're with me we can start dueling as soon as you arrive."

Sirius summoned three copies of the popular Auror textbook and distributed it to his students. Hermione cradled it lovingly, scanning the Table of Contents right away.

"There's one more thing," Sirius said gravely, reclaiming their attention. "You've probably guessed by now that Professor Sarutobi isn't coming back to Hogwarts next year. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is a Ministry employee, and the Ministry is currently no friend to Hogwarts. Cornelius Fudge thinks that Dumbledore is preparing for a power play, and that he's setting me up to be a puppet Dark Lord."

Sirius bared his teeth, inwardly cursing the Minister's stupidity. "Fudge is blinded by his prejudice and ambition. He's ignored testimony from the teachers, and he even thinks that Dumbledore is responsible somehow for Lucius Malfoy's death, since Lucius used to be his biggest supporter. With Dolores Umbridge teaching Defence, and the Dementors of Azkaban patrolling the school grounds, you're all going to be under close watch this year. Hogwarts will be hostile territory. Do you understand?"

They nodded, faces grim, accepting what he said without a twitch. Sirius reminded himself that these three had faced down Lucius - they were not really children any longer. They were warriors. But still, Sirius promised himself, they would not have to fight alone.

"You cannot afford to let Umbridge know that you have been trained. If she discovers the extent of your skill, she'll think that Dumbledore has been training students in combat in order to fight the Ministry."

Ron said under his breath, "It might not be a bad idea."

"Be that as it may," Sirius replied, "we have more important enemies than the Ministry, and we can't afford to do anything that would give Fudge the excuse to remove Dumbledore from his position. You three will have to avoid Umbridge's eye."

"Does that mean we won't be able to train for a year?" Harry asked.

"Not at all. Losing a year is the worst possible thing that could happen, especially now that Orochimaru is doubtless building his forces, and Voldemort is out there doing Merlin knows what. Don't worry. Hogwarts will always provide help for those who are loyal to it, and that most definitely includes you three."

Sirius grinned at them, glad to be able to provide some good news. "As a matter of fact, I believe that Professor Sarutobi has a gift for the Gryffindor Common Room. It's a trunk that he used to keep in his office, but it's too big to take traveling with him, so he's going to leave it to Gryffindor House."

The children's eyes lit up as they remembered Sarutobi's concealed dojo. "You'll have resources," Sirius assured them. "We won't send you in there completely unguarded. You just have to be smart. Think of this as the greatest prank in the history of Hogwarts, pulled off right under the noses of the Ministry."

They had just enough time to assure Sirius that they wouldn't let him down when their Portkeys activated, leaving Sirius alone once more.

"The Marauders live again," he whispered, watching the spot where his students had just been. "Let's hope they do a better job than we did."

oOoOo

Three days after Little Nicki's disappearance, Viktor Krum received a summons to the Headmaster's office. Viktor left the Fifth Form dormitory immediately, glad that Karkaroff seemed to be taking the problem seriously.

Even after searching every inch of the grounds, no trace of the orphans had been found. Neither had the older students or the Professors uncovered any evidence of what had taken them. There was no magical residue or physical signs of intrusion.

Over the summer most of the students went home, but for the orphans and many of the older students, Durmstrang was their home. They rallied together, ready to protect their home from whatever meant them harm. The students organized themselves into groups, going to and from summer classes in packs, supervised by at least one older student at all times. The Professors had added extra protections on the dormitories, including some particularly nasty traps specialized for destruction of the Undead. A vampire trying to enter the dorms would be burned to a crisp before it knew what was happening.

Viktor had been impressed by the way that Mikhail, the Head Boy, was handling the crisis. He had been one of the students who thought they could revive the teachings of Grindelwald, but after losing a duel to Viktor, Mikhail had turned over a new leaf. He took his responsibility seriously.

The only strange thing in the past few days had been the Headmaster's unaccountable silence. Normally, Karkaroff would have made a speech during breakfast about how everything was under control, and there was no need to panic. However, for the last three days, Karkaroff hadn't even shown up at mealtimes. Viktor was sure that meant that Karkaroff was looking for the students in places that weaker wizards couldn't go, but he wished that the Headmaster had made time to address the student body. In times of crisis, it was crucial that a leader was both visible and calm, so that everyone else followed his example. Karkaroff's absence was creating tension, however, and Viktor thought that even their teachers were growing nervous.

So Viktor ran to Karkaroff's office through the cold, drafty halls of Durmstrang, skirting around groups of First and Second Formers and their older protectors. He nodded as he passed by Boris, who was shepherding four Second Form orphans to their Remedial Potions class.

Karkaroff's office - or rather, his suite of offices - was located on the fourth floor, the highest level of the castle. Not many classrooms were located up here, and it was rumored that Karkaroff had at least a dozen rooms to himself, with everything from a guest bedroom to a trophy room with artifacts and souvenirs from his time traveling the world.

Viktor didn't know anything about that, but he figured that Karkaroff was entitled to a few perks. After all, he worked hard enough scouring the continent for magical orphans to provide them with an education, and then protecting them and guiding them once they arrived. Viktor knew that Karkaroff's past was probably a constant source of guilt, and he had a lot of respect for a former Death Eater who tried to do good to balance out the evil of his past. Karkaroff was not what Viktor considered a strong man, but he did his best according to his conscience, and that meant a lot to Viktor. Weighed against all that Karkaroff did for Durmstrang as Headmaster, Viktor didn't care whether Karkaroff lived in luxury or not.

He swung the iron knocker at the entrance to Karkaroff's outer office, and the door swung open on its own. Viktor stepped inside. It was a familiar sight to most students, since it was almost impossible to avoid being called to the Headmaster's office at least once during six years at Durmstrang. Karkaroff sat behind his desk, leaning back in a plush armchair upholstered in green and black.

"Welcome, Viktor," said Karkaroff, one corner of his mouth quirked upward in a smile that Viktor had never seen from the Headmaster before.

"Headmaster," Viktor returned, inclining his head slightly. "I assume you asked me here because of the missing students? Is there any news?"

"All in good time," Karkaroff responded, amused. "I called you here to talk about you, in fact. You're quite the model student, you know. Top marks since your first year, and a Quidditch star to boot. All of the other students look up to you... everyone wants to be you."

"Sir..." Viktor said, confused. Where was this coming from?

"I've been watching you, Viktor, and learning about you. You're quite remarkable. At the age of thirteen, you organized a group of students to fight against would-be Dark wizards who outnumbered you almost three to one. Two years later, because of your efforts, anyone uttering the name of Grindelwald in Durmstrang does so only with disgust. You did that, Viktor. It is quite impressive."

"Thank you, Headmaster, but is that really what's important right now? Two First Formers are missing, maybe dead, and we still don't know who or what is responsible! Shouldn't we-"

Karkaroff cut him off by raising his hand. "Don't concern yourself about them. The children are fine."

"What?"

"I said they're fine," Karkaroff repeated. He waved behind him, pointing at a small door nestled in an alcove in the stone wall. "They're back there, resting. I'll show you."

Viktor sighed in relief, tension he hadn't even known he was carrying melting away from him. "Oh, thank Merlin. How are they? Who took them, and how did you get them back?"

Karkaroff looked highly amused. "So many questions. What a conscientious young man you are... Please, follow me. I will bring you to them."

First Karkaroff, then Viktor walked through the door, stooping just a bit to fit under the stone lintel. In the next room there were two beds pushed up against the wall. Viktor recognized them as belonging to the Hospital Wing. Lying in the beds were two young boys, both attached to so many tubes and wires that it looked like they were being devoured by snakes. Deyan and Nikolai were fast asleep, with Deyan snoring loudly and Nikolai's long, blond hair falling over one eye.

"What..." Viktor stammered, "what happened to them? What are those tubes?"

Karkaroff sighed regretfully. "I ran into an unexpected complication while forcefully enlarging their chakra coils. I have to keep them sedated until I can stabilize their magical cores."

Viktor had no idea what that meant, but he could understand the gist. "Headmaster, did you take them?"

His mind was working faster than his mouth, and even before he finished speaking he whirled around, hand flying to his wand... which wasn't in his robes. Karkaroff somehow had it in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. Before Viktor had time to figure out how that had happened he was bound in thick ropes, which tightened magically until he couldn't move an inch.

Viktor didn't understand what was happening. He was so shocked that he couldn't even feel fear as Karkaroff walked slowly towards him.

"You're not very observant," the Headmaster said, tilting his head to one side. "But then, you've never encountered anything like me before. Once I've taught you a few things, I think you will be very formidable indeed."

The ropes loosened slightly, allowing him to pull in a deep, ragged breath. "What are you doing, Headmaster?" he choked out.

Karkaroff shook his head, making a small sound of disappointment. "Still not quite there, hm? Then I'll have to make it clear to you. I'm not Karkaroff, Viktor. I'm merely borrowing your dear Headmaster's body... with no intention of returning it."

Viktor could only stare, horrified, as Karkaroff's eyes flashed a deep gold, and his pupils shifted into diamond shapes. Karkaroff - or whoever this monster was - grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Now you begin to see. Don't worry, Viktor. I'm not going to hurt you - or if I do, it will only be to make you stronger. Like these children behind me, who will soon be better than they ever were. I only want to bring them to their full potential."

Karkaroff patted Viktor's head, like he would a dog, and Viktor strained against the ropes in revulsion. "I have a proposition for you," said the man wearing Igor Karkaroff like a suit. "If you swear to obey me, then I will make you the first and greatest of my lieutenants in this world. I will show you magic beyond your wildest dreams, and grant you power enough to satisfy your every wish. If not, I will torture these students that you care for in front of your eyes. You will have to watch, knowing that it was in your power to keep them safe. Is that what you want?"

Viktor's captor pointed his wand at the defenceless children. "What is your decision?"

"Wait!" Viktor panted, knowing he was at the mercy of this terrifying creature. "You... you won't hurt them if I help you? You'll let them be?"

"Of course. Do you think I want to damage my precious resources? Durmstrang will prosper under my leadership, and its students will govern the Wizarding World for generations to come. So what is to be, Viktor? Join me, and protect the people you care for? Or fight me, and watch helplessly as everything you cherish turns to ashes?"

Viktor stared into yellow eyes that burned with madness and an unfathomable, ancient cunning, and he knew there was nothing he could do. This person was far, far too powerful to resist. But he refused to look away, and fought against the ropes to stand just a little bit straighter as he answered.

"You leave me no choice. Promise me that you'll protect the students of Durmstrang, and I'll serve you."

Maybe, if Viktor played along, he would be able to escape and find help... the Ministry would surely send Aurors, if he showed them this memory...

But his captor seemed to read his thoughts, and smiled wryly. "You've made the right choice. Now to ensure your continued loyalty..." he pulled a second wand from beneath his robes - it was Karkaroff's wand, made of polished black oak. "You know," the man said thoughtfully, "until a little while ago I thought that the magic of this world was useless. Now that I can use it, I see a delightful number of possibilities. Magic offers some very elegant solutions to the problem of divided loyalties, for example. Tell me, Viktor... have you ever heard of the Unbreakable Vow?"

Viktor let out a grunt, feeling like a bludger had just smashed him in the ribs. This was it, then... he was owned now, body and soul.

"What are you?" he breathed.

Karkaroff smiled, exuding smug satisfaction. "Call me Orochimaru," he declared. "I am the man who will rule this world."

There was no further use for resistance, and so Viktor did not resist. He dutifully repeated the words of the vow as Orochimaru spoke them. Despair overwhelmed him as the Unbreakable Vow settled into his flesh, powerful magic placing shackles on his very soul.

"Make sure to get your rest tonight," Orochimaru told Viktor, releasing the ropes that held him. "There is a lot to do this summer, starting tomorrow. We have an army to build."