A/N: Yes, I'm still here! There was just something about this chapter that made things difficult. Also, this fic has a backbone of canon but it filled out differently. If you're not a fan of that, sorry but not sorry. Just like everyone else, im playing in the sandpit with all of the tools J.K left us. I also could flesh out more of the story, I realise this, but that's my brain for ya!
Also, the logic of a character's logic is not my own. Logic can, and will be flawed.
A New Direction
As Katie Bell lay in a bed in St Mungo's, Harry and Hermione were seated quite close and comfortable in front of the common room fire.
A kind of muted shock had filled the whole school at the news. Katie Bell was quite popular, house affiliations be damned. The rumours had spread like wildfire, coalescing into a story that wasn't too far from what actually happened. No one knew who hexed her, and speculation was rife.
The Gryffindor Common Room itself was sullen, even the wireless was quieter.
Harry had fumed upon hearing the news, as it capped a rather forgettable day in general. Given they were the closest in age when he first joined the house Quidditch team, they'd inevitably formed a bond. One he hadn't fully appreciated until now. The twins had 'older brothered' him, Wood and Angelina 'mothered' him and Alicia had stayed neutral.
He blinked and forced his thoughts elsewhere. He'd already written to Sirius about Mundungus, and was waiting for Dumbledore's reply to figure out exactly what the heavy Locket was.
Speaking of the locket, he and Hermione had looked into it - of course - and hypothesised that it was the same locket the statue of Salazar wore. The ornate 'S' made it quite distinctive, and it fit into Dumbledore's notion of Voldemort collecting trophies. It was a stretch, but the ring was connected to the infamous founder, so why not?
Neville sat adjacent to them, engrossed in a huge book on some esoteric aspect of Herbology. Hermione was taking notes from the 'borrowed' copy of Advanced Potion Making, while he stared into the fire, thinking upon things. Namely, how he hadn't even thought about re-starting the D.A. Snape's classes, while brutal, were actually informative. He actually taught an 'awareness of the Dark Arts', in stark contrast to his previous teaching of Potions. The only problem was that they'd learnt more about the Dark Arts as opposed to fighting them, despite Snape's emphasis that knowledge was key.
"Should we start it up again?" He blurted out, barely noticing he hadn't just thought it.
Hermione barely paused in her note-taking. "Hmm?"
"The D.A."
Neville looked up at that, eyes eager, replying: "Yes." Before his girlfriend could form a reply of her own.
Hermione glanced at their friend as well before pausing her writing and replying. "I thought we agreed that it wasn't really necessary now that we're actually being taught spells now?"
Harry threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in as if to bring her closer to his way of thinking. "I know but… We could actually use them properly in The Room. Instead of just blasting each other one-on-one in a classroom. I mean, think of all the stuff we did over the summer."
Neville snorted. "You mean you both did more than just snog?"
Harry mock-glared at his friend and shot back: "You know what? I can't wait until Luna sticks her tongue down your throat so we can give YOU a hard time about it." Hermione giggled and rolled her eyes beside him at Neville's now Beetroot-red face.
Neville, having grown up in the magical world, learning proper social Pureblood etiquette, chose to hide behind his book once more.
"I think it would be good." Harry stated to his hidden friend, his voice more serious now. "I like her, she's cool."
"Ringing endorsement, that." Hermione quipped. "Thought of as 'cool' by Harry Potter."
He couldn't help but stare at her in shock, before grinning. "Good god! I didn't know you had it in you! Full of surprises this one." He added in mock-undertone to Neville, who also seemed slightly shocked.
The group-shock/hilarity was only just starting to dissipate when a flash and ball of flame materialised upon the low table in front of the fire, revealing a very familiar Phoenix.
"Hey Fawkes." He said, stroking the bird chest with the back of his hand. He would always have a soft spot for the bird since the Chamber.
Given the lateness of the hour, most of the students were in bed. The ones that had remained awake - be it for studying, snogging or chatting with friends - had gotten used to the idea that Harry Potter basically lived with them. Despite the odd things that happened around him with surprising regularity, most just ignored him, given his insular nature. Except when he caught the snitch with his ridiculous flying.
There were rumours of course, though they mostly didn't match the boy they saw every day. His defiance of Umbridge the previous year was well known, and he'd gained respect from those that endured the same punishments as he did. Most were just happy it wasn't them that had to be Harry Potter. Not many wanted to swap with the brooding, usually injured teen, even with the fame.
Sometimes though, the fact that they lived with someone special was made known to them. In this case, it was a real life Phoenix, seldom seen, even by Magizoologists, appearing in front of him. Added to this was the fact that Harry Potter TALKED to it and got to touch one! Like he was familiar with legends and myths appearing in real life. Most just stared silently at what was happening in front of the fire.
The Phoenix preened slightly under his touch, dropping a small piece of folded parchment into his hand. Which he read quickly. "Are you going to make us walk there? Or are you going to save us the trouble by taking us to him?" He asked the bird, which cocked it's head to the side. He then remembered leaving the locket in his trunk. "Shit. Hang on." He withdrew his wand and gave it a flick towards where he assumed his dorm was.
His growing proficiency led to the locket zooming into his hand seconds later. "Sorry Nev, duty calls."
Neville waved a hand, still gazing at the Fawkes. "It's about time I went to bed anyway."
He turned back to the bird. "So are we walking or-" A flash of flame obscured his vision and he blinked to find both himself and Hermione in the Headmaster's office.
The Phoenix gave a suspiciously cheeky trill and swept to its perch, and he realised he'd been pranked by a bird. Little shit.
The denizen of the Headmaster's quarters looked every year past his century of living. "Ah Harry, Miss Granger. You had something important that needed my attention?"
"Well, we found Mundungus in Hogsmeade with his grubby little-"
Hermione interrupted him. "We think found an artifact that matches what we're looking for. Plus Harry-"
He interrupted her in return. "It doesn't feel right." He said holding it out. At Dumbledore's gesture, he laid it upon the desk where it sat, its pristine condition belaying its age.
Wordlessly, the Headmaster began waving his wand in complicated patterns over the locket. After one particularly violent wave the locket suddenly shifted noticeably upon the desk. "Indeed, it seems you have found one." Dumbledore murmured.
Everyone stopped and stared at what had just happened. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Mundungus of all people helped him find one, even if it was a gut feeling that brought it to Dumbledore in the first place.
Hermione broke the silence, slowly becoming accustomed to spending time with such a famous figure in Magical History as Dumbledore. "How do we destroy it?"
Her question drove the Headmaster into a spate of reflection, gaze locked somewhere past the teens. "If one had told me a twelve year old Wizard could blunder so magnificently into creating a perfect weapon to destroy Horcruxes. I would have called their sanity into question. Yet, I have one, created by you, Harry." Seeing the teens blank looks he continued. "How did you destroy the Diary?"
"The Basilisk fang?" He ventured.
The Headmaster became instantly animated. "Exactly! Basilisk venom being so inherently magical, and so deadly, there is only one cure! A Horcrux's protections can only be breached using a substance so magically destructive, that it cannot repair itself. Yourself, in your great valour, defeated the Basilisk by stabbing it through the head. Basilisk physiology being so similar to ordinary snakes, keeps its venom sacs in the same area." He gestured to the gleaming sword in its case upon the wall behind him. "The Sword of Godric Gryffindor is Goblin-Forged, a gesture that brought Goblin and Wizard together against a past evil."
Hermione's eyes widened beside him. At least he knew they were just going by the sound of her voice. "It only imbibes itself with which grows it stronger!"
Dumbledore gave a wide smile to the girl, it was easy to remember this man once taught classes. "Indeed, Miss Granger."
Harry also smiled at his girlfriend, but was then struck by an odd thought. "What about the Killing Curse?
Dumbledore's smile fell. "There is no evidence of it being tried, that I have found."
"Could it work? Why don't we try it?" He felt her shift uncomfortably beside him, but it made sense to him. What if they lost the sword somehow? It couldn't be the only way to destroy them?
Dumbledore's gaze bored into his, and Harry couldn't be bothered keeping up his meager Occlumency shields. "Perhaps, the only other known method is Fiendfyre, which requires incredible control and is extremely dangerous, even to it's caster."
"Then let's try it!" What was the big deal?
"Are you asking me to try it Harry?" Dumbledore probed, looking more uncomfortable by the second.
He blinked, growing confused. "You're more powerful than we'll ever be." He gestured to himself and Hermione who was watching the back-and-forth intently, also looking uncomfortable.
Silence reigned in the Office, even the Portraits that lined the walls fell silent of whispers, not even pretending to be asleep.
Until.
"I've never used an Unforgivable spell, Harry, nor been under any of their effects. You would have far more experience in them than I."
Harry blinked. "Not even against Grindelwald?"
"Gellert is more of an idealist than Tom, he never stooped so low as to delve into the Dark Arts the way Tom did."
"But he was a Dark Lord wasn't he?"
Dumbledore gazed into the nothingness over his shoulder. "He was ruthless… The Dark Arts never held any sway over us."
Hermione's voice came next. "You make it sound as if you knew him, well."
The old man didn't waver. "I did..." He then came to his senses. "Neither of us used those spells as we were beyond them."
Harry's mind went back to the Atrium battle once more. "The Ministry-"
"Is a relatively good example of how we once fought, minus the Unforgivables." Finished Dumbledore. "Voldemort fights using incredible power and skill, but little ingenuity. Together, I believe we can succeed." He said with a smile at Harry who relaxed slightly, comforted by the fact that he would fight beside such a Wizard. But Dumbledore had now grown wary, his wizened face set and serious. "So, will you try it? Or shall we use the sword? I feel it to be your right to choose."
Harry blinked, thinking quickly. Would I even be able to? Would she think less of me for it? He very nearly glanced at Hermione beside him, but was scared at what he would find when he looked. Their fight over the summer was still fresh in his memory, and this decision felt momentus. Inside he wished to ask others what they thought, what would Moody think? Neville? Luna? Sirius? Would they judge him? To him, it was simple, they couldn't rely upon a sword, if he was right, any wand could do it.
A memory of an ashen, quite dead Ron flashed before his eyes once more. If he was to even begin to lessen the guilt, he had to win, to destroy Voldemort. The catalyst of so, so many deaths. The thief of innocence - his innocence. After another moment he gritted his teeth, Voldemort had an impact upon his life a decade before Hermione did. She was the future that was only possible after he'd dealt with his past. Let's see if dear old Bella was right. "Let's give it a try."
Dumbledore's eyes widened and rose quickly, conjuring a stool of sorts in the space in front of his desk and placed the locket upon it. Harry stood, moving away from Hermione and closer to the locket which demanded all of his attention. "Now Harry, intent is the key to all magic, remember that. Now, I believe we need to open the locket first in order to damage it. Any ideas?" The sudden twinkle in his eye led him to believe that the old man already knew the answer, but before he could even put any thought into it…
"Parseltongue!" Exclaimed Hermione, causing Dumbledore to smile.
"A fair assumption, given who the original owner was."
Harry smiled fondly at his girlfriend, always there, always helpful. Always saving my arse. He gave the locket a closer look, if it was the same as Tom Riddle's Diary, it would put up a fight.
He motioned the Headmaster to step away, which he did, silently observing everything closely.
He then sought the eyes of her, finally.
They shared a look, one he recognised. It was the same look she'd given him in first year, confronted by the fact that they would be split up, one going forward, the other going back to relative safety. She'd always had high expectations of him, yet also worried about his safety. The latter had always comforted him, even if it took him four years to get used to it. He would do what was necessary.
He tore his eyes from hers and focussed upon the locket, Imagining the snake on the face was real. "Open." He hissed.
It snapped open to reveal a pair of scarlet-ringed eyes, one in each pane, before smoke burst from it with the sound of a thunderclap. The smoke shifted wildly before forming into his girlfriend, a more beautiful yet terrible parody. The Horcrux-Hermione shrieked that he was turning dark, therefore unworthy of her. She then turned and walked away.
He hadn't realised that he'd been staring at the apparition until that point. If she hasn't walked away yet, she won't ever. He hoped. That single thought empowered him, releasing a deadly calm that filled his mind. His wand snapped up, pointed directly at the locket through the smoke. "Avada Kedavra!" A green jet rocketed from his wand and impacted the locket, where it flickered and died.
Disbelievingly, he'd just taken a step towards it when it erupted once again. This time the image was of a Voldemort that cackled uproariously at his failure. "So… weak." It cackled. Once again, the horrible Hermione formed from the smoke once more, it sneered at him. "You think I could ever want you? The beaten, weak, scarred little boy who has no one?" Her voice echoed horribly.
"You have no one."
"No one."
"No family."
"Nothing."
Shame flooded through him but he pushed it aside. He was used to doing that.
"You've got to mean them Potter!" Bellatrix shrieked. "Here, how about I give you a little lesson!"
He focused upon the locket again, anger flowing through him, focussing upon his intent to rid the... thing of it's soul.
"Avada KEDAVRA!" The twisting beam of green light hit the Locket for a second time, it screamed one final time before becoming inert one more, the false Hermione winked out of existence. The real Hermione ran over and engulfed him in a hug while Dumbledore stepped forward and started casting countless spells over the now lifeless Locket.
The shame he'd pushed aside returned in full force as he clung to her, trembling slightly.
How long had the Horcrux been in Grimmauld Place, tainting it, picking up on the feelings of its inhabitants? How else would it know how close he and Hermione were? Was it the reason Kreacher was so cantankerous? How had a horcrux even found itself in Sirius's house?
Those thoughts were saved for later as others pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. I can now kill. I mean, I have before but that was just putting them down. This was different. It wasn't really the thought of going dark that scared him, Hermione would always keep him on the straight and narrow. It was the fact that he COULD take a life, he could mean it, want it. He couldn't hide behind his weakness any longer. He was scared of the responsibility to use his newfound strength judiciously.
And it was new, as if a switch had been flicked in his mind. He now knew what it required to cast such spells, the concentration and focus upon his intent. He now knew why his spell hadn't worked on Bellatrix, a part of him hoped that the mindset required wouldn't become second nature. I think.
Words wouldn't form as he gripped her, the curls of her hair tickling his nose.
A soft spoken Dumbledore's words interrupted them. "Your idea did indeed work, Harry. Well done."
He released Hermione and grinned a little sheepishly, having realised what he'd been doing directly in front of the Headmaster. They all retook their seats once more, the - now blackened - looking Locket was moved to the little draw that held the Diary and Ring.
Dumbledore settled back happily, seemingly relishing in the reduction of tensions in the room. "With that piece of business concluded. Was there anything else you required of me?"
Their previous conversation in the Common Room came back to him in an instant, and he made a decision. "You remember our… extra curricular defense study group. Sir?"
Both the Headmaster's and Phoenix's head cocked to the side slightly, nearly making him laugh. "I only ever heard about it, as you remember."
"Well yeah, but I was wondering if we'd be allowed to restart it again?" He glanced at Hermione who was biting her lip, no doubt thinking furiously.
The Headmaster considered them both for a time. "You may, with two conditions, and a question."
Harry nodded.
"First, you allow me to announce it so others may join, no matter their House. Second, you allow me to witness some sessions, if I cannot, another teacher must be present."
He nodded, though a bit nervous about teaching in front of other teachers. "As long as the teacher isn't Snape."
"Professor Snape, Harry." He corrected, then nodded. "Agreed."
...
The halls of Hogwarts were alive with speculation.
The most exciting social event of the year would take place mere days before Christmas eve, and the scarcity of invitations to students created a god-like worship of those that did. With four Slug Club attendees in Gryffindor, one would normally expect for all of them to be hounded, to be made-eyes at, boasted in front of. Unluckily for any hopefuls, two of them were already going together, leaving Ginny and Neville.
One would mention McLaggen, but no one liked that twerp.
Ginny revelled in the attention, forgetting Harry ever existed - which was fine with him. Neville however, found it more difficult to deal with the popularity. The boy had grown though. While it was obvious that he was a part of the Club because of his parents, his improved coursework, newfound confidence and strength, and prodigal Herbology skills made him one of those that Slughorn obviously liked.
Harry, with his new attitude towards Slug Club parties found himself agreeing rather vehemently to the verbal invitation from the man himself. His and Hermione's plan to woo the Professor hadn't been to diffificult if truth be told. All they'd had to do was share the Prince's book during lessons, the results of which had Slughorn singing his praises saying that he'd only taught two others with such talent.
One particular class led to a moment shared between both students and professor, with unexpected results:
"Off you go!" Slughorn called. "Don't forget your notes on how today's potion could be improved upon for next class!"
As planned, both he and Hermione dawdled in their packing up. Yet another step in their plan to get the memory. He noticed that Malfoy had almost sprinted out of the room, his apparent interest in the class nothing like it had been in their first.
Slughorn then spotted them. "If it isn't the Prince, and Princess of Potions!" His eyes sparkled with mirth, and both teens took it in stride, as they had for the last month.
"You mentioned a pair like us earlier?" Prompted Harry.
The Professor's eyes took on a fond sheen. "Ah yes, your mother was one of them of course. Both her, and our own Severus Snape! What a pair they made! It's no wonder Severus stayed on to teach, though your mother was too enamoured in her Charms to give Potions any further study." He looked rather put out at that, like he'd missed out on a rare Chocolate Frog Card.
Harry struggled for words, while he knew they all went to school together. Slughorn comparing himself and Hermione to Snape and his mother meant...
"We'll just have to become the best." Hermione answered, grasping his arm.
"Such drive." Slughorn observed with a smile, you'll go far Miss Granger.
She smiled back at him, he could tell it was forced though. "Hermione, sir."
Slughorn beamed. "Ah, then you must both call me Horace. When outside class of course." He added in undertone. "Is there anything else I can do for you both?"
They shared a look, they'd made enough progress for the day.
"No, Horace." Harry replied with a wide smile, having regained his wits once more. "You know where to meet us tomorrow?"
"Of course! I must confess myself intrigued at how such informal teaching would take place, never would have seen it in my day."
Harry held up his left hand, the words still visible across the back of his hand 'I must not tell lies'. "It was necessary sir."
Horace looked pitifully at it. Most adults did, their expressions caught somewhere between pity and guilt. "Yes. You're a remarkable wizard Harry, with a remarkable witch at his side. I look forward to a future with both of you in it."
With the mood thoroughly dampened, both parties made their goodbyes and Harry and Hermione - when out of earshot - discussed the next stage of their plan.
A plan that was to be put in motion tonight, at their first D.A. meeting since May. Horace would be their teacher 'overseer' for it, and he and Hermione had a rough plan to guilt trip him into divulging the real memory.
But before that could happen, they had to make plans for their session. With the Headmaster announcing the club during dinner the day after he had visited him, more had expressed interest in joining, swelling their numbers by around half.
Snape had been particularly vindictive in the lesson after that announcement.
And to be quite honest, Hermione had panicked quietly until he took charge of matters. As a result, all new inductees would be paired with an original member so they could be brought up to speed. Important, as his plans for the sessions would take what he had learned in the Ministry and over the summer and use it
They found Horace waiting for them, observing the Tapestry opposite bemusedly.
"Professor!" He called, forcing joy into his voice.
Slughorn turned, observing them curiously. "Ah, Mister Potter, Miss Granger. I don't recall there being any classrooms big enough for what you proposed in this part of the Castle."
"There aren't." He replied mischievously, while gesturing for Hermione to open the room. To which she began pacing, a look of concentration on her face that he could barely tear his gaze from.
Something the Professor noticed. "Miss Granger what-" At that moment, a huge door - one reminiscent of the huge doors that separated the Entrance Hall from the grounds, only smaller - grew into being where there was a bare wall.
Harry had trouble containing his smirk at the Professor's shock. "There is now." He said, before jauntily striding into the newly created room. He rarely felt the inclination to put so much into a jest, after some thought he decided it was spending the summer at Grimmauld Place. He couldn't wait for summer, even more so that Hermione would be with him, as her parents still lived with his godfather.
The room that greeted him was fairly similar to ones they used earlier in the year, with the requisite books, and plethora of cushions. With Hermione explaining the room to their Professor, he took in the room with a critical eye.
It's not enough. "Mione?"
She broke off her in depth discussion. "Mmhmm?"
"Could you give me control of the room? I just want to make a few changes." He replied, still concentrating on the layout of the room he wanted.
She was silent for a moment before: "There, I think."
He nodded in thanks and closed his eyes.
The room blurred before Hermione's and Horace's eyes, the pile of cushions zoomed closer to the books. The room widened, a sheet of very thick glass separated one side of the room from the other. One side sprouted all kinds of obstacles, mini walls appeared from nothing and stairs rose from the floor. The other side, a small stage rose in the corner and rows of lines etched themselves on the floor. Soft material grew like moss from the walls and the floor turned to marble.
Over the next few minutes, members of the old D.A. arrived first, finding a cushion each, new members arrived tentatively but found their friends quickly. The resulting noise level rose until he could barely hear himself think, let alone Hermione as they went over their plan one more time.
When he was sure everyone had arrived, he raised his wand, his next move was calculated so those that attended would take him seriously. Of course, Hermione thought he was showing off. Something which he internally shrugged at, not caring either way.
"Expecto Patronum!" Prongs quickly coalesced in front of him, his Patronus was far easier to cast with the thought of his girlfriend these days. The shining stag drew everyone's attention and they fell silent, some in shock, others in recognition. He pocketed his wand, yet the Patronus remained and stood by his side. "Welcome to the Defence Association, everybody." Some frowned at the obvious name change, but he pressed on, with Prongs's continued presence lending him confidence. "Some of you have only heard of us, others are well… Veterans." He smirked nervously but kept going. "I only ask that you listen to the directions of myself, Hermione and Professor Slughorn, who is here to observe." He gestured to each person mentioned.
He glanced at Hermione, who only smiled proudly back. "Now, you all have either read, or heard about those of us that broke into the Ministry." The uncomfortableness of this subject made him not want to mention it, but in the end, they had agreed it was necessary to get it out of the way first. "It is mostly factual." Murmurs filled the room at that. "And I will use what I learnt to make these sessions more effective for us all." He nodded at Neville. "Neville mate, could you come up and help me for a second?"
Obviously surprised, Neville nevertheless rose and picked his way through the throng to his side. Harry turned back to the group. "Those that want to do harm to you, fight in a completely different way than you would expect. Defence against the Dark Arts is not duelling, it's dirty, disgusting and dangerous. Neville and I will demonstrate."
Neville blinked as more murmurs filled the room but followed him into the part of the room where all of the obstacles were. He shared a glance with Hermione who nodded back.
Those furthest from the action stood, while the rest were transfixed. Those that were a part of the D.A. last time could tell things were going to be different this year and looked wary.
He nodded at Neville who nodded back. Instantly, Harry shot a body-bind and disarming jinx at Neville who's naturally strong shield sang as each spell glanced off it. After that, Neville returned fire, casting slowly but the spell took far more strength from him than normal to deflect each of them. An exploding hex forced him to roll behind the nearest available cover.
Quickly he used a spell his girlfriend had mastered and shot a small group of conjured birds at Neville. He then rose out of cover and fired a series of Stunners at Neville who blanched but raised his shield to meet them. The shield stopped the spells but didn't affect the birds who zoomed in at his face, just before they hit, one of the room's barriers was lifted between them and the birds exploded into puffs of feathers.
He looked over and found Hermione with her wand raised.
Then she winked at him.
A wink only he could see but it distracted him enough that he wasn't prepared for her follow-up: a trio of stunners, Neville recognised what was going on and added spells of his own.
Harry rolled away and gathered himself, before twirling his wand in a clockwise direction and jabbing it forward. His strengthened protego snapped into being to meet Hermione's and Neville spells which pummeled it. It only lasted for around twenty seconds before it shattered and he took one of Neville's Bludgeoner's to the stomach, sending him flying and gasping for air.
While he recovered with the help of an apologetic Neville, Hermione turned to the shocked group. "That is why you never fight alone. In the coming sessions, once everyone is up to speed, we will begin showing you how to defend yourselves in groups." She looked over a mostly silent group. "Now, those that are new I need you to pair up with an old member to practise 'Protego and Expelliarmus'."
A couple of groans met her directive but Harry moved to her side, still rubbing his midsection. "Just for a warm-up. Then we'll move on."
It was a wise move, even the veteran members took some time to cast with any consistency. In the fifteen or so minutes the older students spent 'warming up', He and Hermione helped the few younger students that were having trouble with wand motions and focus.
After that, a sort of lecture/demonstration followed in which he put forth his new ideas, some of which were influenced by May-Eye himself.
First, - To the amazement of all onlookers - He and Hermione teamed up against Ginny, Neville, Luna and Seamus. And working together, as they had practised in the summer, were victorious. As Seamus was cleaned up by Slughorn - as he had caught his own pyrotechnic spell to the arm, leaving a very light burn - Harry began a lecture that described how he wanted them to learn how to fight in groups.
He stressed staggered casting to make sure a constant flow of spells kept their enemy busy, and he stressed the strengths of each person and how they could be used.
"Say we have a group of myself, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny." He gestured to each. "What are our strengths?"
Silence fell over the group as they thought it over. Until, Parvati spoke up: "Well Neville's spells are really strong." In the corner of his eye, Neville blushed slightly.
Harry nodded. "That's for sure, so how would that be best applied?"
Padma answered for her pondering sister. "Breaking down walls and stuff?"
The grin came to his face quickly, relieved that they could actually get what he was getting at. "Exactly! Take Ginny, she casts hard and fast. Luna's spells are great at distraction and are unpredictable." Ginny smirked while Luna looked contemplative. "Hermione is great at defence with all the counters she knows, but what about me?"
The crowd fell into contemplation again, no doubt wondering if 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' had any weaknesses.
After a while, he conjured Prongs again and a collective 'ah' filled the room. "If any Dementors show up, I'll take care of them, protecting my team."
A timid voice could be heard from the back. "What about You-Know-Who?"
It was an apt question, and one that needed to be answered the right way. Even he could see that. Everyone here looked to him to take on Voldemort, even if he knew he'd be lucky to live for minutes against him. But he was working on it, and he would give it all he had, it had been his lot in life since the day he was left on the Dursleys doorstep.
"Well, if he is scared enough of a bunch of schoolkids to turn up. I'll handle it. I don't expect any of you to take it to Mouldy at all. I just want to make sure you all survive because trust me, the Deatheaters will not hesitate to kill or maim any of you."
Silence fell heavily upon the room once more until Lee Jordan - no longer flanked by the Twins - called out: "I prefer 'U-NO-POO' myself."
The tension shattered into a million pieces at most snorted at the comment.
Hermione looked vaguely disgusted but spoke up. "How about a motion to only use… 'U-No-Poo' when referring to him in this room?"
The room fell into discussion. Until she used 'Sonorus'. "All those in favour raise their hand."
Everyone's hand rose, much to his amusement.
"So it shall be." She answered and turned to him, her eyes bright.
He had to tear himself away from her gaze to keep his mind from wandering. "Alright, alright. Now that's decided, let's split up into six person groups."
...
Hours later, he found himself staring into the flames of the Gryffindor Common fireplace, thinking over things.
The short of it was; their plan to get Slughorn's memory hadn't worked. The first meeting of the newly christened 'Defence Association' had been a smashing success though, despite the difficulties the swelling members had caused. This had been mostly remedied by a hierarchy that was hurriedly established, the 'Ministry five: Neville, Ginny, Luna provided extra instruction with himself and Hermione in charge.
Luna had been surprisingly capable at teaching the younger years, what little amount of them there were. Her gentle demeanour worked well with those that were rattled by the duel at the beginning of the session. Her help was something he was especially grateful for as it allowed him to work with the older years, who were still working on their silent casting.
Neville mostly followed Hermione around and translated her sometimes clipped instructions to those that weren't as business-like as her. Most looked at the 'four' with a new eye, it was obvious for even him to notice.
No one batted an eye at his hard-won skills, he was 'The-Chosen-One' after all.
To have a 'Bookworm' and 'Borderline Squib' beat the chosen one had been a shock to many, as a result, their instruction was held in the same esteem as his own. Something he was immensely proud of. It's about time they realise she taught me half the things I know.
Ginny meanwhile, was unrelenting. Her commonly used method was a 'Take the only shot at me you can get, outside of this room you'll get Hexed otherwise' approach. It struck him as a little odd until he remembered she had killed Rabastan, literally blowing him to pieces. He'd suddenly felt bad for being so selfish, as they both had taken a life that night, and both lost a brother. Maybe I should've made sure she was ok. Fuck. I've been too wrapped up in myself and Hermione to notice everyone else.
He would ask her about it the first chance he got.
Speaking of wrapped up in myself. He glanced over at Hermione who was scrawling something in her notebook.
Over the year, he hadn't really been the most attentive to her. Something always seemed to get in the way, be it Horcruxes, classes, Slughorn or training. He'd really only been brave at Grimmauld Place, initiating moments where they could act like the amorous teens they were. It was extremely lucky they'd been fast friends beforehand, if he was quite honest. No one else really understood him, or his often erratic behaviour.
Sure, they shared more hugs and looks than they used to as friends. Certainly more kisses.
But there were moments like this, where all he wanted to do was bring her close and just hold her for an hour or two. Where he just wanted to forget about the real world for a while and get lost in how her body felt and the smell of her hair.
It was just that she always seemed to be doing something, and he didn't want to get in the way. She was the incredible one after all, he was just the passenger that put his life on the line more than one should.
Was his reticence due to a decade of rejection of such baser needs? Probably. He never rejected her though, surely she would do the same for him? He also felt that sometimes she needed a distraction, something to give her brilliant mind a break.
"Mione?"
Her quill didn't stop scratching. "Hmm?"
"Coming up with another plan for the memory?" He asked.
The hurt look upon her face made him flinch inside. It wasn't that he expected her to come up with a brilliant plan, or even a plan at all, he just thought that would be what she was doing.
As she opened her mouth to reply, her expression betrayed a small amount of shame. He pushed past his fear and reached over, bodily pulled her close. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just asking." Again she tried to reply but he cut her off. "Let's take a break."
She struggled in his arms for barely a second before nodding and putting her own around his midriff.
Now feeling incredibly content, he began tracing lines over the parts of her body he could reach idly. Nothing too suggestive though, as they were in the Common Room. Also, they hadn't gone any further than the lightest of petting so far. As much as he wanted to go further, the whole thing just scared him. There were just so many ways to screw it up, and he knew he would, it was inevitable.
Unbidden, his thoughts drifted to Ron. There was a part of him that was afraid that he was subconsciously holding back because he knew Ron liked her. If anyone knew Ron like he did, there would be mutterings of him killing Ron and taking his girl. It was a horrible thought, but his mind had always been intimately familiar with horrible thoughts. The only thing that saved his sanity was that they were the only two people that understood him, as to do so; you would need to live his last five years as he did.
And while he could be jealous and insecure, Ron had lived it, and had seen what was behind 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'.
It wasn't pretty.
Hermione was all he had left, the only one that knew his motivations and took his decisions in stride. Though Neville was becoming a close friend now, in truth, they really should have been closer with their similarities. Such an incredible difference a compatible wand made, and Neville was learning quickly, putting in the effort where Ron hadn't.
Fuck! Did I just compare Neville to Ron? Instantly there was a bitter taste in his mouth. It might have been true, but it felt disgusting to think like that.
A kiss on his jaw distracted him. He blinked and looked down to see her eyes boring into his. She knew. His chest tightened due to some inexplicable force, and he pressed a kiss to her crown as thanks.
They were the best of friends that found something more. Selfishly, it meant he could derive some of the comfort he'd always craved.
"What if we use the potion?" She murmured from his chest.
"What?"
"On Slughorn."
"Felix?"
"Yes you dolt."
He snorted. "Well when you're on top of me, I feel I have the right to act a little doltish."
Her reply was heavy with sarcasm. "Such a way with words, as usual. It's a wonder I don't swoon like the public does."
"Don't worry Mione, you always make me swoon."
"Pfft."
Using the potion was worth a shot either way. He was starting to suspect Slughorn knew, or was beginning to know of their line of questioning. "Why not?"
…
It was the night of Slughorn's party.
Snow fell softly outside in the darkening light, contrasting the golden flicker of light emanating from the small heater in the centre of his dormitory. The heat that it also emanated was causing him to sweat a little in the ornate Dress Robes that Sirius had sent him. Even now, he couldn't figure out if they were new, or something from a wardrobe in Grimmauld Place altered to fit him.
The fault would have been his own, due to the vagueness of his request. Sirius no doubt thought it was amusing, and he did himself to a certain extent. They were actually quite nice, not as formal as the ones he wore to the Yule Ball, but still appropriate. He supposed. WIzarding Cocktail Party attire being well out of his range of competency. And these robes were... elaborate.
The only other boy in the room getting ready for said event seemed far less uncomfortable than him. So much so, it actually annoyed him slightly. "Oi Neville, can you at least fake nervousness for my sake?"
Neville paused in doing up his cuffs to take in his friend's uncomfortableness, shrugging. "Gran's hosted too many parties, they just bore me mostly."
"Won't be boring with Luna there." Harry shot back, revelling in the distraction the conversation afforded him.
Neville blushed very slightly. "True. It's a chance to see if Sluggy is all talk about his connections though."
They both snickered slightly, as the most famous attendee was currently standing in this room. As he would be, in almost any room he stood in.
That fact held true as they both made their way down to the Common Room once Neville had done up his cuffs. He'd done his own with magic, a test for his growing control with intent-based magic. It was also something Hermione had suggested during one of their private training sessions. Doing such menial tasks with magic had been impossible until he'd made the connection to his willpower. Learning to command it, rather than hold back half-afraid of the form his spells would take.
As they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, most of the heads in the common room flicked their way. Most gawked at him, due to Sirius's taste in robes.
Wizarding World fashion was rather like Muggle fashion in the sense that things went in vogue one decade and out the next. Roughly half a century ago, for example; There was no such thing as the 'Notice Me Not' spell, and Muggle repelling spells could only be applied in a ward-like manner to land. This meant Wizarding culture all around the world adopted mostly Muggle trends, just in case they needed to traverse Muggle areas.
After the invention of the spell - 'Sui Abscondere' - Wizard culture bloomed, a Wizarding renaissance. Formally outdated robes were now safe enough to wear in public, the more traditional, the better. Only now, were more subtle and understated Robes becoming the 'new thing'. The Dress-Robes Ron had worn to the Yule Ball weren't as old as most Muggleborns thought they were, they just mirrored a tradition not seen for more than two or three centuries. When the Wizarding World was smaller and more intimate.
The pair of boys talked quietly while they waited for Hermione. They would pick Luna up on the way to Slughorn's office, taking the scenic route around the Castle.
Harry spent much of the wait fidgeting. Hermione had been remarkably coy about what she was going to wear every time he'd asked. Eventually, he gave up and gave no clues as to what he would wear in an act of desperate revenge. As the Robes Sirius had sent him only arrived a day previous - cutting it so fine he'd been stressing about it for a week - most of his talk had been bluster.
The annoying thing for him was that she wasn't outwardly fussed over what he would wear anyway. His own imagination had been in overdrive picturing what she would wear, to the detriment of his attention in lessons.
With a mighty effort, he mastered his wayward mind and paid Neville closer attention.
A fruitless task as just then, a pair of very familiar legs appeared on the staircase.
Conversation forgotten, he watched it as it unfolded far too slowly for his liking. Her gait was unfamiliar akin to a prowl. She was either nervous or... She's doing this on purpose!
With that deduced, he marvelled once more at his girlfriend's unknown depths. A teasing Hermione - in any sense - was a rarity, and whenever that part of her made itself known...
He was addicted all over again.
Reliable, serious, studious, cute Hermione had become loyal, mature, confident, gorgeous and teasing! When had that happened!? Has she always been like that and I was too blind? He shrugged internally. Probably.
With sickening slowness, the revelation of her form ended and he could finally take in the image of… 'Absolute flirtery' - if such a word existed - of her manner. She wore a rich red cocktail dress with a trio of ruffles that broke up the outline of the hem. Compared to current Witches fashion, it was absolutely scandalous. To him, it was like a large red ribbon on a Christmas present.
Presents get unwrapped though. The instant he made that connection, he shivered involuntarily. It was best if he moved his thoughts away from such dangerous territory. Not that he knew what was under the dress, yet. 'Yet' may be a bit presumptuous, but any escalations in their affections usually led to that sort of thing. So as a result, he could only start fantasising about something he couldn't fully picture.
Get a hold of yourself Potter.
A quick glance at Neville found his friend in similar shock, maybe even more so as no one at any party he'd ever been to would wear such a thing. Even if it was quite appropriate in the Muggle world.
"Are those Sirius's Robes?" She asked, having snuck up on him and his currently frazzled senses.
"Er, they are." He answered in a manner far from the demure he wished. After a moment, he realised he was required to offer some compliments to his date. But the only thing he could come up with right now was, eloquently: "You look bloody brilliant."
Both Neville and Hermione cracked up laughing with the rest of the agog room looking on. Hermione then peered over imaginary spectacles. "Why thank you for that assessment, Mister Potter." Her jest was reminiscent of their first Transfiguration class ever, and a friend no longer with them.
A jolt of sadness and guilt flowed through him at the mention of their erstwhile friend, but it cut through the lingering tension. With most of the male eyes in the Common Room upon her, she led them out and into the corridor. They followed the only way they could, like Acolytes trailing their Priestess.
Neville, apparently, had realised their little joke by the time they reached the end of the corridor, raising his brow at Harry. "She probably could turn you into a Pocket-Watch by now you know."
He nodded faux-seriously. "Never underestimate Hermione Granger."
"Good answer." She replied from between them, suddenly grasping each by the elbows and leading them forward.
…
Luna's outfit was of similar cut to Hermione's, only the silver leggings and shiny dress gave her an otherworldly look. This however, was expected and Neville's smile only grew wider as she held onto his arm, talking about her sleepwalking habits.
Harry baulked and hurriedly offered his arm to his own date, who snorted and wondered aloud if his manners were going to make an appearance at all before the party. He took this on the chin and tried to reply with his attempt at flirting which caused three red faces and Luna questioning loudly what a boy could give a girl that wasn't a present.
As the music grew louder the closer they got, he grew more nervous, Hermione grew more excited, Neville's trepidation grew, as did Luna's curiosity.
When they entered, Slughorn's office was unrecognisable. Long shawl-like curtains covered the windows, gold was everywhere, elves roamed the room but were hidden by the many unfamiliar guests, making it look like the trays they held were floating. A wireless was playing something unfamiliar and jazzy from somewhere. That was as much of the room as he managed to see before they were waylaid by their host.
"Harry m'boy!" Slughorn boomed, the glass of wine in his hand shook.
He plastered on a grin and offered his hand. "Horace, looks like quite the party."
"Of course, of course! And Hermione! Ravishing dress, it'll be quite the talk of the next Witch Weekly I'm sure."
She smiled and took his offered hand in turn. "Someone needs to shake things up don't they?"
"Indeed, indeed." He turned to Neville, smile dimming slightly. "Mister Longbottom, glad you could make it."
Neville shook quickly and with practised ease, pivoted towards his date. "Horace Slughorn, my date: Luna Lovegood."
"Ah Miss Lovegood! Quite the experimenter if memory serves."
She shook but observed him curiously. "How else are we to create new things?"
Slughorn laughed loudly. "How true! Please, grab yourselves a drink!"
With that, they moved as a group over to a nearby 'floating tray' and grabbed a glass of mead each. Hermione's lips became pursed throughout the whole ordeal, but she didn't mention anything as they had a mission for the night.
They didn't need to wait long before their target found them again, appearing quite suddenly in the midst of their little group. "Harry m'boy!" Slughorn boomed. "Please allow me to introduce my friend, Eldred Worple, and his guest Sanguini."
Hurriedly, he assumed his character, smiled and shook Worple's hand. "Mr Worple, what brings you here?"
Worple glanced at his taller friend, who was giving Hermione a rather Hungry look, then towards their host. "Horace is a dear friend of mine." Slughorn beamed. "And yourself, of course. I have a proposition for you, and I like to know my subjects in person as it improves the final product."
Hermione shifted a little closer to him, away from Sanguini who looked to be visibly restraining himself. "What kind of proposition?"
Worple looked slightly surprised at her question, as if he barely knew she was there. "I'm an Author Miss, my last was rather successful; 'My life with a Vampire'." He gestured to Sanguini. "I want to give MIster Potter here the chance to share his story, one without the bias of the countless autobiographies that have and will be written by those that don't know you."
"Aren't I a bit young for that?" Harry asked.
Hermioned added her own. "And isn't it improper to ask without a guardian present?"
Worple gave her a contemplative look. "Of course, miss. A formal offer will be sent to his guardian, I only wished to meet you first, Mister Potter."
Because he didn't care either way, and to get his girlfriend away from the looks of Sanguni. He shook the Author's hand, told him he would think about the offer, and they made a hasty getaway. Oddly enough, back to the drinks table.
Once he'd drained his glass and grabbed them both another glass of mead, he muttered into her ear: "If anyone's writing a bloody book about me it's you." Then he noticed her odd look. "What?"
She glanced at her second drink for a second then back at him. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
He blinked. "What!? no!? I…" Was all he could splutter - While he wasn't trying to get her drunk at all, he couldn't help but wonder what a drunk Hermione would be like - He eventually decided to avoid the topic all together. "Would you write my autobiography?"
She gave him another look again, which he interpreted wrongly. "I mean, not that I care or want one. It's just you know me best and… yeah."
The peck on the cheek she gave him cut off his spiraling thoughts quickly. "Stop, I was just surprised, that's all. Let's get back on task shall we?"
He nodded and took a sip of mead. "I still say we should just wait till he gets drunk enough."
She rolled her eyes, placed her second mead on a nearby ledge and they mutually moved off to find Nevile and Luna.
...
In a busy pub, many, many miles to the south...
Sirius still wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up here, he'd only asked one fairly innocuous question:
"I wouldn't have taken you as a paper-pusher at heart Sirius." Amelia Bones observed after nearly two hours of scouring Ministry Reports and Newspaper clippings.
Given the suspected leaks in her Department - Something she still found repulsive - they had taken to going over the scarce information they had, together in her office. Usually after-hours, but that didn't bother either of them that much as neither had many hobbies.
He knew he was here because of his connection to The Order of the Phoenix, and what they knew. The DMLE never used spies, the multitude of ways one could dodge Veritaserum was limited only by the wording of Magical oaths. The serum could kill if it forced the victim to recount something kept under oath and the protections of that oath sprang into action.
Granting an oath to either side, as a spy would need to do, was fraught with danger. Clashing oaths also usually spelled a death sentence for those under them.
Sirius shrugged then slumped in his chair. "I've become quite proficient at it lately."
Amelia observed him curiously before making the connection. "Ah yes, Gringotts."
"Bloody long-fingered gremlins." Sirius muttered.
A rare smirk lit up her usually stern features, affected only by the lateness of the hour and the pulse of the magical quality of the light. "I really am sorry, if I could have done more-"
He waved her apology away. "I'm to blame also… Those years served as a punishment for the choice I made back then." He smiled slightly. "I guess, I still thought Lily and James were around, as always." He took a deep breath, unused to the sheer depth of the conversation. "If you had said something, you wouldn't be in this chair."
"True."
Each returned to their paper-perusing as the false window behind the Ministers desk revealed a slowly darkening sky.
Amelia suddenly let her monocle drop. "Have you noticed any movement of 'employees' in your businesses lately?"
He nearly snorted at her polite terming of the Black enterprises, ones he left alone so they could keep an eye on the more unscrupulous parts of Wizarding Society. Plus they made more money that way. "No, why?"
She tapped the parchment with an elegant finger. "DIMC reports show a leveling out of the Immigration numbers."
His brow furrowed. "So less are leaving the country? That's good isn't it?
She now waved the parchment at him. "No, more have entered the country, balancing things out."
He frowned further, sure he was missing something. "Why?"
She replaced her Monocle and glanced at the page she held for a moment before replying. "Holidays, mostly."
Now he had it. "In a country that suffers from random attacks from The-Great-Noseless-One? Bit odd."
"Very." She then sent the parchment into a nearly empty box that sat on a shelf behind her with nary a flick of her wand.
"How many?" Was what he asked, even though he wasn't sure he even wanted to know the answer.
The faint lines on her face deepend as she both observed him and thought over her answer. "If all of them are his… then it'll double the number of his forces from the first time."
Silence fell over the room, if Voldemort was winning the first war with only fifty outright followers plus allies. A doubling of his wizarding forces was a grave situation for those opposing him, even with a Minister steadfastly against him. The bureaucracy would take too long, and even the Ministry had limited resources. You simply couldn't summon a fully trained Auror from nothing, let alone a Hitwizard - which was basically an elite - less restricted - Auror.
Amelia Bones, British Minister for Magic, opened a small drawer to her right with a tap of her wand. Revealing an intricate crystal decanter half full of an amber coloured liquid with a matching tumbler. "Perhaps I should have your godson teach my paultry number of recruits how to cast a Patronus." She said this while creating a copy of her tumbler with a tight spiral motion.
Sirius snorted at her serious type of joke, one he'd become accustomed to from their short time together as colleagues before his imprisonment. He watched her pour a measure into each before levitating his own over to himself with a nod of thanks. "Send them to Hogwarts, I hear tell that he's started his little club back up."
She frowned at this news, staring at her drink. "Susan hadn't told me that."
"You HAVE been busy." Sirius offered. She frowned even further at this and he knew exactly what she was thinking, having been there with Harry. While she and Susan were close, Amelia was the Minister for Magic, and Susan would have been raised with this possible eventuality in mind. "She'll understand."
"I hope so." She muttered.
Believing they both have had enough for the night, Sirius drained his drink with suspicious ease. "Do you only drink at the Office?" He asked, half in jest.
Not long after his question, were they leaving the Ministry with Kingsley and Dawlish in tow - The pair of them being her most trusted Aurors - and entering the busiest pub they could find in Muggle London.
Amelia sat across from him, her eyes darting from her drink - a sherry and bitters - to the mass of slightly rowdy Muggles around them. They were one of the few currently sitting, as a tiny- but loud - band had set up in the corner as was playing music that was unfamiliar to him. The last Muggle music he'd heard was the Rolling Stones.
He couldn't help but throw a look of distaste at her drink. "Why do you drink that vile concoction?"
She glanced at him and took another sip. "It reminds me not to drink with each sip. Can't have a Minister married to the bottle can we?"
Sirius snorted. "It's not a bad way of coping, and it's much more enjoyable with company." He raised his drink to her and took a big mouthful of his own Guinness. He then dropped the act and observed her carefully. "Even with everything going on, you DO have to find some way of relaxing."
She picked at her transfigured blouse, their 'disguise'. "When I can, I will."
The first chords of 'Smells like Teen Spirit' started playing, and the crowd roared in appreciation. "C'mon 'melia, even the bastard that I had to learn the ropes with back in the day could pick up."
"Pick up?"
He rolled his eyes. "Find a bloke to shack up with. Good god, has it been that long!?"
She sniffed. "That's no business of yours Black."
"We can't have a frustrated Minister." He shot back with a grin, throwing her own words back at her. He was enjoying himself, it had been many years since he'd taken a woman out for drinks. Even if it was an older, scary bitch of a witch that was Amelia Bones. They could have fun and get some business done at the same time. It sounded ideal to him.
"Maybe it helps keep up my image." She deadpanned in reply which instantly had him in stitches, laughing harder than any other time since Azkaban.
Amelia wasn't moved by his display, apart from a lightening of her eyes. He was considerably relieved to know she hadn't changed since then, the first war had changed many, many people, including himself. "You mean the 'Scary Bitch of a Witch' character you play when at work."
A single elegant raised eyebrow met his pronouncement. "I wouldn't get too far playing nice and joshing around."
"I'm sure a fair few in the Ministry could do with a pranking." He reasoned.
To his surprise she nodded in agreement. "Definitely. Though that was usually Alastor's job."
"What is Ma-Moody doing these days?" He asked, careful not to call her mentor by his nickname.
She gave the crowded Pub a cursory glance. "Training the Hit-Wizards."
"Poor bastards." He observed.
She nodded. "If they can survive my mentor, they'll last a bit longer."
Suddenly Sirius remembered something. "Speaking of pranking. You know the Weasley Twins?"
"By name only, Rufus bought a bunch of their amateur shield-clothing." She said this with pursed lips, and he knew why: She deemed it a waste of Ministry resources that were stretched thin already, but couldn't argue against it as they worked, and it was FOR the Ministry. In her opinion, the gold would be better spent on the forces that would combat Voldemort, rather than a pair of shield-gloves for every secretary and vapid assistant in the Ministry.
"They've come up with something a bit hardier than a wearable basic shield charm. I've tested it myself, bloody brilliant, but expensive."
She frowned. "If they're so expensive, why even bother?"
"Because we can make it cheaper. With the Black and Gringotts working together." He said earnestly. Giving his godson and his friends expensive magical armour was well within his means, providing them to the Ministry - which was actually poorer than many of the older British magical families - was more complicated. Sirius had seen Lucius's ornate armour in the Department of Mysteries, he needed to even the playing field, for Harry.
Relaxing evening forgotten, both set about their business with a subtly transfigured pad and pen, in a crowded, loud pub. Only occasionally derailed by Sirius's flirting, which, despite hitting a brick wall, he continued because it was simply fun.
...
A/N: Not going to lie, I love Sirius in this fic. Not entirely sure how that happened.