Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

-oOoOo-

United We Stand …

Chapter 28

A multitude of heads vied for space as each tried to find the best angle to watch Luna. There was minimal jostling happening, at least now. When they first gathered around her, there'd been a fair amount of shuffling and squirming as each tried to see the desktop without jostling said table or Luna herself.

Eyes followed every line that she drew, every stroke of her pen as the image took shape. The head and bill were the first to emerge onto the paper. The eyes were small and the rounded bill, very much like that of a duck, was large, with two small dots on the bill indicated where the animal's nose was. Next was the body, with numerous strokes giving the impression that it was covered in fur, a sure sign that the animal was a mammal.

The large flat tail that Luna drew in next was very reminiscent of a beaver's, adding credence to the 'mammal' theory, if one discounted the opposite end of the animal and its duck-like bill. And then there were its feet. When Luna added them, it was to show that they small and webbed with sharp-looking claws on each foot.

Finally, after cocking her head this way and that and adding in a few extra lines here and there, Luna nodded and put her pen down.

"My animal," she said proudly, looking up and around at all of those gathered.

"Are you sure that that's what you saw?" a doubtful-sounding Hermione asked, "only I've never even heard of an animal that looks like that."

"This was the animal I encountered in my vision," Luna reiterated. "Isn't it cute?"

"I think so," Astoria piped up in defence of her friend.

"Perhaps if you told us more about it, we'd have some more clues to be able to identify it," Daphne suggested. "Where it was? What it was doing? What it ate, if you noticed that sort of thing."

Luna tilted her head as she remembered back to her vision.

"I arrived near a stream or a creek. It was all forested but with trees that I'd never seen before, not here in Britain or in any of the Scandinavian countries that I've visited with Daddy," she began.

"Okay, most likely not native to Europe," Fiona said.

"I first saw it swimming in the water," Luna continued. "Or floating, really. It was watching me, seemed rather curious, just as curious as I was about it.

"Beavers and otters like the water, maybe it's related to one of them?" Hannah suggested, sounding unsure about the idea.

Luna shrugged before continuing. "And then it swam towards the bank and went into a burrow. I was able to see inside and it was there, at the back, getting comfortable around it's eggs."

"Eggs? Was that what it was eating?" Daphne asked.

"No," Luna replied, shaking her head and making her dirty blonde hair fly around her face. "The animal was protecting them as though it'd laid them itself."

"Well, that proves that it's not a real creature," Hermione stated emphatically. "Mammals don't lay eggs, it's a well-known fact."

"Actually, I believe that you'll find that you're wrong about that," a voice piped up from the other side of the room.

The group twirled around to find Professor Evans walking towards them, a small pile of books in her hand that she'd obviously just gathered from the stacks that she'd just emerged from.

"What do you mean, Susan?" Harry asked. "I've never heard of any mammal that can lay eggs, either."

"That'd be because there are only two in the world and both are native to Australia," Susan replied with a smile.

"My animal's from Australia?" Luna asked happily.

"Is this one of them? Do you know what it is?" Hannah asked, holding up Luna's drawing.

"It is indeed. That's a platypus," Susan smiled. "And don't feel bad about your confusion, the first British settlers who encountered the platypus had no idea what it was either, and when they brought one back to Britain, the scientist in charge of examining it thought that it was a hoax and expected to find stitches connecting different animal parts together."

"It's real?" a confused Hermione asked.

"Very much so," Susan replied.

"How do you know this stuff?" Harry asked.

Susan simply shrugged. "I'm a pack-rat for all sorts of weird and wonderful information."

"Well, now you know what your animal is," Daphne said to Luna.

"A platypus," the girl stated happily.

"Now you just have to learn everything about it that you can, just like we have to do with our animals," Daphne concluded, indicating herself, Hermione and Neville.

The way Luna's face was beaming and the way she was almost bouncing in her chair told them that she couldn't wait to get started.

-oOoOo-

Sirius really wasn't sure whether he could do what he'd set out to accomplish. Oh, he'd made it sound to the others that he had a way to access the Lestrange vault in the depths of Gringotts so that he could ascertain whether there was a horcrux hidden away there, but the reality? The reality was that the goblins were notorious for ensuring that no unauthorised persons got into a vault.

Still, though, he had to try. And if he couldn't do it, then he wasn't sure what could be done.

He'd spent most of an entire day digging through the boxes of parchment that he'd stored in the attic of Grimmauld Place when he'd renovated it. Anything and everything that his father and grandfather had deemed important enough to keep, he'd simply boxed up and stored away, hopefully never to see the light of day again. Originally, he'd been tempted to burn the lot, but knowing that there were deeds and certificates of all kinds buried in amongst the account-keeping files had had him reconsidering.

Now he was glad that he had.

It wasn't until the seventh hour that he'd found something that might work buried in the depths of one of the last boxes.

His grandfather, Arcturus Black, had signed the marriage contract between the daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus, son of the Ancient House of Lestrange. In that marriage contract was a clause stating that the second-born son of the union was to be given the name 'Black'.

Now, Sirius knew from his own time in Azkaban exactly what that place did to a person's body. And one of those side-effects was that the person's ability to reproduce drastically dropped for every year that you were there, thus one of the main reasons that Sirius hadn't taken up his womanising ways of his youth – he simply wasn't capable of it any more. And if he was affected that way, then Bellatrix and Rodolphus who had been in Azkaban a number of years long than Sirius had been, must have been affected.

Using that logic, Sirius thought that he might have a case to get the marriage considered void. And to fine the pair for failing to uphold the contract in the first place, a fine that he hoped would get him access to the Lestrange vault.

There were an awful lot of assumptions in that plan, not least of which was whether it was legal, for, while Sirius was now the Head of the Blacks, he hadn't been the one to sign the contract. Then there was the question of whether the goblins would go along with it or simply laugh in his face.

All he could do, though, was try.

Thus, Sirius, with the contract in hand, strode up the wide, white marble steps leading to Gringotts, intent on seeing the Black family account manager. Oh, how he loathed that particular goblin. He'd been appointed by Arcturus Black and with very good reason – the goblin had a heart as black as the Family name that he looked after. He was a surly little thing, all sharp and curt and made you feel as if you were wasting his time, no matter the reason for being in his office.

Not for the first time, Sirius wished that the foul goblin would simply hurry up and die, then he could appoint someone new, perhaps even Slipshard if he'd consent to the job.

One look around the lobby of the bank showed him a free teller and Sirius strode forward.

"I would like to see my account manager, please," Sirius said to the teller goblin.

"And who would that be, wizard?" the goblin asked.

Sirius swallowed hard and tried to ignore the shiver that went down his spine as he forced the name out past his lips.

"Gnarltooth."

The goblin's evil little grin did not help Sirius' nerves in the slightest.

-oOoOo-

Croaker sat heavily in his seat, pondering what he'd just discovered, not to mention the possible repercussions, and considering his job as the Head Unspeakable, he could imagine quite a few scenarios based on what he'd just learnt, both good and bad.

That morning he'd finally gotten around to following up a hunch that he'd had for a while. It was Albus' behaviour that'd put it into his mind that there was more to Harry Potter than met the eye, at least, in terms of his 'destiny'. Albus was never one to do something without an ulterior motive and with the way he seemed fixated on the boy, Croaker just knew that there was something there.

So, that morning, he'd taken a detour. Instead of heading straight for his office in the Department of Mysteries, he'd taken a different door from the Gateroom – the large circular room with thirteen identical doors, everything done in a matte black except for the torches, that would spin whenever all the doors were closed, simply to confuse unwanted visitors.

After passing through the Time Room, he'd entered the Hall of Prophecies. There, he'd quickly moved to a hidden panel that, once pressed, brought out a pedestal from the wall with one of the largest books in the entire Department sitting on it. This book contained a record of every prophecy ever spoken within the British Isles. Oh, it didn't say what the prophecy said, only where and when it was made, who made it and who heard it, as well as to whom it was about.

Placing his wand on the cover of the Book, Croaker channelled some of his magic into it while he called out the information that he needed: "Harry James Potter".

Instantly, the cover flew back and the pages rifled through as though a great wind was whipping them backwards and forwards, before they settled down to show a single entry.

June nineteen, nineteen eighty-one at the Hog's Head bar in Hogsmeade. Made by Sybill Patricia Trelawney in the presence of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in regards to the Dark Lord (Voldemort) and ? (Harry Potter)

The fact that the notes had been added in later told Croaker that there had initially been some ambiguity in the wording but that events had transpired enough to confirm who was involved in the prophecy.

Croaker's problem now was what to do with the information. It was very apparent that Dumbledore believed every word of what he'd heard. It was also very clear to everyone who worked in the Department of Mysteries that prophecies, while real, did not have to come to pass – the very number of brightly lit prophecy orbs in the Hall attested to that, after all, an orb would only go dark once the prophecy had been fulfilled.

The big question was whether or not to get young Potter down here to find out exactly what that prophecy said; after all, only the ones connected to the prophecy could move it – the one who made it and those to whom it referred to.

The fact that it named Potter made Croaker less likely to follow through with the idea. One could suppose that it declared that the final battle against Riddle would include Potter, but that couldn't happen until each and every one of those blasted horcruxes had been identified, found and destroyed.

No, he finally decided. He'd leave off mentioning this until after the horcruxes had been dealt with. Then he'd reconsider his options and decide whether Potter needed to know about it.

-oOoOo-

Only sheer force of will stopped Severus' head from slamming into the table the instant that the door closed behind his fifth-year Potions class.

He'd never thought that it was possible, but there were some in that group who seemed to be becoming stupider with each lesson rather than less the dunderheads that they were. Unsurprisingly, it was Crabbe and Goyle who were the worst offenders, although both Parkinson and Brown weren't far behind.

With Christmas past and Easter not far away, Severus knew that his window of opportunity for getting these morons ready for their OWLs was rapidly dwindling.

He'd hoped that enforcing a compulsory hour of remedial work every evening in not just Potions but also Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology in the Slytherin common room would have produced some results. Sadly, that hadn't been the case. He hadn't even attempted to improve their Astronomy knowledge and History of Magic was a lost cause if ever there was one. That, of course, left the elective subjects for the other professors to deal with.

In any other year, Severus would have continued doing what he'd been doing for the past dozen or so years and teach in his normal way and if the dunderheads weren't up to his exacting standards, then that was their problem, not his.

This year, however, he was being pressured from all sides. The Department of Magical Education was focussing closely on Hogwarts and the results that it was getting; Dumbledore wanted to turn their gaze away, so had decided that it was Severus' job, as Deputy Headmaster, to ensure that the students passed their OWL and NEWT exams with outstanding results; and the Dark Lord insisted that Hogwarts would put that upstart Academy in its place, a fact that Severus had to ensure, being the only one of the Dark Lord's servants in the castle.

The thought had briefly crossed his mind that, if he could get away with it, he'd resort to polyjuice and sit their exams himself. It was the only way that many of them would pass, let alone get anything close to a decent result. But that, of course, was an impossibility. Instead, he was stuck with the students themselves.

Not for the first time that year, nor for the hundredth or even the thousandth, Severus cursed the one responsible, the one that had started that accursed school and taken the best and brightest of Hogwarts away:

"Potter!" he growled.

Then, with a shake of his head that mysteriously did not make his long greasy hair move even a fraction, Severus turned to his notes to begin preparing tonight's oh, so joyful remedial potion lesson for the dunderheads of his own House.

-oOoOo-

Remus looked over his class of twenty-six and smiled at their eager, expectant faces. Each and every one of the nineteen fifth-years, two sixth-years and five seventh-years were an absolute pleasure to teach.

Even the twins had been more studious than he'd been led to believe that they would be. Oh, they still loved to laugh and joke around, but they got their work done. How much that had to do with both Harry and Sirius stating that they'd happily invest in their joke shop idea provided that they did well in their NEWTs was anyone's guess, but still …

Ordinarily, he wouldn't be teaching this many students at once. For one thing, it wasn't Diricawl's policy; the school had determined that lower class numbers where there was more chance of teacher interaction was a better environment to learn in. But for this lesson, he wanted to make an exception.

Strictly speaking, what he was going to teach today was a charm and therefore ordinarily Filius' responsibility. But seeing that the primary use for it was in defence against dark creatures, he'd been given the pleasure of teaching it. And considering the complexity of the charm, he'd decided that having Harry, who was beginning to show just how powerful he could be, in the same class as the older students, might be beneficial. A little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone.

"Today," he began his lecture, "we will be learning the patronus charm. This is an incredibly complex charm that is considered beyond NEWT level in difficulty. However, because of the times that we live in, it was decided that you all should be taught it. Who can tell me exactly what the patronus charm is?"

Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione's hand that shot up into the air first. Remus simply smiled at her and gestured to share her knowledge.

"The patronus charm is an ancient and mysterious charm that conjures a magical guardian, a projection of all your most positive feelings," she recited. "A full, corporeal Patronus, is a guardian which generally takes the shape of the animal with whom the caster shares the deepest affinity."

"Thank you, Miss Granger, a definition straight out of Miranda Goshawk's book," Remus smiled. "Now, as you just heard, the patronus charm produces a magical guardian. This, of course, implies that there is something that it can defend you against. Can anyone tell me what that is?"

This time it was Daphne who answered.

"Dementors and lethifolds," she said.

"Precisely. I trust that you can all see why you are going to be learning this charm now when the vast majority of you have yet to even sit your OWLs," Remus said.

The looks on everyone's faces told him that they knew exactly why: the dementors of Azkaban had joined Voldemort's ranks and had been causing terror and panic for months now. Interestingly enough, it was Neville who had the fiercest look on his face; Remus guessed that that was a result of his remembering when the dementors had defected – the night that the Lestrange family had escaped the island prison.

"Now, there is no particular wand movement associated with the patronus charm, a simple point or jab is sufficient," Remus explained. "And even the incantation is fairly basic: expecto patronum. No, the true power behind this charm is the emotion that you put behind the spell. And that emotion is in turn powered by the memory generated by said emotion. The more pure, the happier the memory, the greater the emotion and thus the more power you put into the spell."

There were a number of cautious nods from the students before him, accompanied by quite a number of reflective faces. Remus smiled, pleased to see that they were already beginning to understand. He had no illusions about the success rate that this lesson would have – he fully expected that no one would be able to produce even the slightest mist, let alone a full patronus, but they had to start somewhere. And there was a full magnitude of difference between learning this spell in a safe, comfortable classroom compared with trying to produce one when faced with a dementor."

"Now, let's begin with the incantation before we begin trying to find that memory that is distinctly yours," Remus said. "Repeat after me: expecto patronum."

"Expecto patronum," the class intoned.

"Good. Again."

"Expecto patronum," they repeated, this time with a little more feeling.

"Excellent," Remus praised. "Now for the hard part. I need you to search your memories. You are looking for a memory of a time when you were the happiest, the most content, when you felt the most loved, something pure and good, the exact opposite of what feeds a dementor, something that they won't understand or be able to abide being anywhere near. Do not rush this part; a half-formed memory won't work."

As Remus talked, he began quietly walking about the classroom. It pleased him to see that most had their eyes closed as they searched within themselves. Each and every one displayed signs that they were determined to find the best memory, the one that would work.

It really was a joy to teach students like this. Remus, not for the first time, nor for the hundredth or even the thousandth, thanked the one responsible for starting this school, for bringing these exceptional young people together. It was all he could do not to pat Harry on the shoulder or to ruffle his hair as he passed.