"GET YA MANGY ASSES UP THIS SECOND AND DOWN TO THE KITCHEN RIGHT NOW!" Bellowed a voice seemingly perched right next to his ear. He was out of the bed, and his wand in his hand faster than his brain remembered the sound of the voice of Alastor Moody. It didn't help him relax one bit. He hurriedly dressed and left the room, dimly aware that Ron was stumbling out of bed at the same time.

Whatever spell Moody had used was brilliant, he'd definitely have to learn it.

Five minutes later, Harry found himself in the kitchen with Hermione, Ginny, an irritated Ron, and a still blurry eyed Fred and George. In front of them stood Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and Remus Lupin. All of them had hard looks on their faces.

"As of this moment, you have been allowed to use your wands, and therefore your magic while you are off Hogwarts grounds. This is not meant to be used as a toy." Kingsley spoke, not even the twins joked about it, but they definitely perked up. Being over the age of 17, they could already use magic, but it was unprecedented for the younger kids to be allowed as well. Harry kept quiet about the fact that he had been using magic since he had been attacked; though he'd have to remember to talk to Dumbledore about it. Better to be safe than to be sorry. Tonks took over after a few seconds of silence.

"Unfortunately, some of you," Here she threw a look at Harry. "Like to get into trouble, and the rest of you seem to follow along - what Harry?"

"I'd like to say that I never got looking for trouble, it just always seems to have my address." He said with a smirk. If one didn't count that he went looking for the Sorcerer's Stone and the Basilisk and Sirius Black, it was a mostly accurate statement.

"Shove it!" Was the mirthful response. "Seriously guys, we don't have too much time left in the summer, but we are going to train you. It's getting bad out there, and the Aurors cannot be everywhere. Harry has been doing of this, informally of course, but we thought it would benefit everyone. Now, your primary instructor will be Remus here, as he will likely be spending the most time at Headquarters. Moody will be a close second as he is technically retired. Kingsley and I are still earning the Ministry's Knut so we have some really shitty hours. However, we will be here as well."

"What will we be learning?" Came Hermione. Ron has started to get less grumpy now that the conversation was continuing. Harry had noticed that Ron did not not like learning, he simply hated studying when there were so many more things to be done with the time.

"Anything that we can think of to save help you survive. Now, less questions and interruptions. We have limited time this morning. For the past few days, we have enchanted and warded off an area that will serve as the location of your training. Do not attempt to leave this area, and listen to our instructions as if they were law. Because they are. Now, grab onto this portkey, and we will see what you all are capable of." Kingsley responded, his deep voice instantly silencing Hermione. It suited Harry just fine, he liked to get right to action.

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The morning was exhausting, by any amount of measuring. Though Harry had been more used to it than his friends, he could see and feel his own exhaustion quite easily. Once the Portkey had deposited them to their destination, the two Aurors had left. Remus and Moody had split them into groups of three, and tested their general knowledge. Harry was paired with Ron and Hermione with Moody giving them a critical eye. Remus had the task of watching Ginny and the Twins - he didn't know them as well as he knew the other three, so could judge them a bit more fairly. Once the groups had been sorted, and the goals for the day established the real pain began.

Moody was a task master and pushed them. They had to start much like Harry had by demonstrating all their offensive spells, of which there were few. Harry, having done his own research as well as having had some prior training already, startled his friends as he put on a display of deadly magic. His elemental skills, which he already had a precocious grasp, were even more refined, nearly adapting to his will alone. And yet, even after lasting the longest, his repertoire was still a bit lacking.

Then the physical test had begun. They had to run - and run some more - as hard as they could for as long as they could. When Ron unwisely commented on the fact that Moody could hardly run at all with his wooden leg, Moody had reminded him that many of the witches and wizards that had crossed him were in prison, dead or soon to be one of the two. Ron didn't complain for the rest of the morning. It was a humbling experience.

Harry threw himself into the training. He watched his friends with a critical eye, noting the that three of them had gone into the Ministry with him. Had the Deatheaters really been into killing, there would have been nothing they could do. Hermione, was probably the most humbled, having realized that her superior knowledge would be useless in a fight to the death if she panicked or froze.

Moody spent a great deal of time instructing them on the proper way to hold their wand, an acceptable form while dueling - hammering in the fact that the smaller the target, the less likely of a chance they would be hit. He had them holster, draw, and slip into their various forms until he was satisfied. It took a while to get there. Even worse, several minutes into the practice, he started to shoot harmless, but noticeable, stinging hexes randomly. The goal was to be able to notice the spell, draw your wand and protect yourself by either shielding or moving. Harry had opted to try to parry the various attacks, trying to hone a skill that he and Remus had been working on nearly every morning. He was not nearly as successful as he had hoped to be.

Moody had made them duel. Harry had won all of them, taking the longest to beat Fred and George who simply knew more magic in general than Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. From his age group, Hermione managed to best both Ron and Ginny, before losing to Fred and having a draw against George. Ginny, fierce in her own way ended in a draw with Ron, the only other person to not get a solid win.

After that, Moody and Remus teamed up and dueled the six of them collectively - and won. Quite handily in fact. The two seemed to feed off each other quite readily, and quickly overpowered the twins, and Ginny. Harry, Ron and Hermione, more used to one another lasted a bit longer, before Ron ended up tangled in ropes, his wand rolling from his fingers. Harry jumped in front of a spell for Hermione, who was quickly dispatched once he had been taken out. All in all, it was a humbling experience, and keenly reminded Harry of his duels with Dumbledore and the one-sided nature of them.

They had a very long way to go.

"You all bloody suck!" Moody yelled, but continued almost immediately. "But you don't suck that bad. There's potential. Now, I want some settle some shit here and now! We are not training you to fight. We are training you to survive, to run if able, but not to stand and fight. If you're lucky, you will catch them off guard for enough time to make a run for it. Make no mistake, there are not many kids your age that can go toe to toe with a fully-trained adult, let alone a Deatheater. We're not even going to mention tangling with any of his Inner Circle. We will teach you to recognize them, so that when you see them, you fucking run! Some of you have met most of them already, it is likely the Fred and George already heard of the others before. These people have no qualms about killing you and bragging about it."

"Indeed," Remus spoke. "I went through some of the Hit Wizard training during the last war – and one thing ingrained in us were all of the Deatheaters to avoid unless we had massively superior numbers. Voldemort was not to be approached by anyone. Bellatrix – there was a recommendation to have at least 20 spell-casters with you, at least half of them with Auror training. Not everyone is on her caliber, but all of them are killers. It is one of the acts that they have to engage in before receiving the mark. All of them have a terrible past and have no compulsions to killing you – even after you surrender."

"Aye, some of you went to the Ministry in June and made it out. That is not because you did anything special. Kid tricks, unexpected spells, and the fact that they had a target that they could not risk being destroyed meant they took it light on you. One of them likely could've bested the 6 of you. Bellatrix would have had you fighting each other to get away from them. Potter, recently fought her. Would you agree in my assessment?"

Harry only nodded – not trusting his voice at the moment.

"Some people are just not to be fucked with!" Moody continued. He paused, eyeing them in turn, making sure they understood the gravity of the situation. "Now use the portkey to get out of here and don't get dead. We'll let you know when we can meet up, practice what you've been shown today."

They were in for a long summer.

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Harry found Hermione by herself in one of the many rooms that the mansion held. He stood there quietly, something had been bothering her - but he knew that she usually opened up in her own time.

On the other hand, he was impatient. He watched for just a moment

"Are you okay? You've been quiet for the past couple of days." Harry asked into the silent room. Her answer made him close the door behind him.

"I didn't know I was a witch Harry. I didn't know there was a title to attach to some of the things that happened around me. I was so confused and alone." Hermione spoke as she gently levitated a used quill around the room. "It was different to see it firsthand, to have a better explanation, to have a chance to do it on purpose. It was unbelievable. There was something special in making that first feather float on nothing." She continued, a faraway look in her eyes.

"Magic is beautiful." YOU are beautiful. Harry responded, the latter obviously a thought deep in his subconscious. He was enraptured by the sight in front of him. The idea had come from nowhere, and yet everywhere. It could be chalked up to his teenage hormones, or to the fact that he really did find his best friend beautiful.

It wasn't just physical. Hell, he hadn't even truly noticed she was a girl until 3rd year when she was pressed tightly against him on the back of Buckbeak. It had nearly distracted him and he was ever so grateful that Buckbeak seemed to know his intent. That day had truly been eye-opening, in more ways than one if he was being honest with himself. Once he had been able to look back, he had admired how she had grown at that time. It had been his first instance being that close to a blossoming woman, and inwardly he had wanted more. His life-threatening adventures tended to allow him to remove those thoughts from his head.

The various mysteries that he had found himself involved in, willingly or otherwise, allowed him a peace of mind. Despite that, ever since that night, there was one mystery that he had never come close to solving. It was a new experience, and outside of the conversations with his dorm mates, he was without a male role model to explain it. How was he supposed to explain these sudden, not entirely unwelcome, thoughts? How was he supposed to keep his cool, when the subject of his very dreams was nearly always within his reach. Not even the distraction of training was enough to take his mind too far from the fact that he felt a certain attachment to the bushy haired witch.

Sure, he had a bond with Ginny, and Luna as well, but he could not envision that they could ever take the place of his bestfriend.

'Is this what love feels like?' Harry thought, likely for the hundredth time. Again, he cursed the Dursley's and their hand in raising him to expect to be worthless. A second later, he retracted his curse. It wasn't wise to wish ill upon the dead.

At the end of the day, despite the struggles as a result of living with his relatives, he had learned a great deal about being strong by himself and for himself. It was a difficult concept for him to wrap his distracted mind around.

He wondered when he had become acceptive of overcoming the difficulties of his upbringing. He wondered, too, how much he simply missed because he had never had the familial connections that some of his friends and peers had. Even a sibling would have been nice.

'I suppose Ron is like a brother. As are Fred and George to a lesser extent. Ginny and Luna could very well be younger sisters too.' He mused, completely lost in his thoughts. 'But, where does Hermione fit in with all of that?'

"Harry." Hermione spoke softly. She was suddenly standing right in front of him. He noted that she seemed to be struggling with whether she should be worried or amused. It was an endearing combination of facial expressions. It was cute.

"I was listening, I swear." Harry lied. He knew that she knew it was a bold face lie right away. He still, for the life of him, could not lie to her.

"Liar, liar pants on fire." She sang to him with a giggle. He noticed that her wand still held the feather aloft and raised an eyebrow at her. She noticed his look. "I find it amazing that I can do this spell so easily now, when just a few short years ago, it was such a challenge. Practice truly does make perfect."

"You struggled with this spell?" Harry asked, for the life of him not recalling a single time where his bestfriend seemed to struggle. "I can't seem to recall such an occurrence Miss Granger."

"Well, I read ahead don't I?" Hermione responded. "It became very apparent to me that I needed to work far harder than my peers to even be recognized. If not, I'm what they expect a Muggleborn to be. It helps being friends with the tragic hero of course."

"And slugging Malfoy one." Harry interjected.

"Well… that wasn't my best moment but I suppose you have a point. But, enough of this sad talk of magical politics. Teach me something Harry. Show me something that you've learned."

Harry nodded, immediately running through a list of spells and techniques that he had been exposed to recently. It was hard to determine what would be the best thing to teach her. She was already an extremely brilliant witch, and likely knew more magic than he did. He settled for something simple. A quick flick of his wand conjured a butterfly. Aesthetically, it was a beautiful, large butterfly. The patterns were simple, and still mesmerizing - a kaleidoscope of colors that would put a rainbow to shame. The expression on Hermione's face told him that she agreed. She expressed as much shortly later.

"It's beautiful Harry. But, I can't imagine that you've been waking up every day before sunrise to learn how to conjure a butterfly."

He winked at her, and with another flick, one butterfly turned into many, completely shrouding him from view. A counter-clockwise twirl and those butterflies morphed into birds. A sharp twist of the phoenix-feather wand twisted the birds into razor-sharp knives. A jab later, and they were embedded in the far wall, eerily in the shape of a smiling face. He left them there.

"I have been learning to manipulate my conjurations for a specific task. With a quick thought, I could have forced those birds to attack someone, or shield me. By starting with the butterfly, I had a base material to work with. From there, it was a combination of spells that any 3rd year could do that created a series of knives and threw them into the wall."

"Wow. You made it look so easy."

"Dumbledore is quite the task master. Brilliant, and likely the best teacher I have ever had, but a task master nonetheless."

"Does your magic feel different? I noticed that you hadn't uttered a single word." Hermione asked. He noticed her mind working through all the different spells he had demonstrated. "And, if I'm not mistaken, you rarely used the actual wand motion for the spells you were doing."

"Ah, yes. You asked a lot. As you said, practice makes perfect. Dumbledore explained to me, in so many words, that magic is about power, knowledge, creativity, and willpower. What we see a lot of in school is repetition, but it's used simply to help us learn the spell. Dumbledore, and the others, have been teaching me to know the spell." Harry replied, happy that he was able to explain it adequately enough. Hermione seemed to nod at what she heard.

"What's the difference between learning the spell and knowing it? You seemed to emphasize that." Hermione asked.

"Well, you just demonstrated it. You barely swished your wand, and your incantation was barely a whisper, and yet the spell happened as you expected it to. That was both learning the spell and knowing the spell. You, with the way that you mind operates, learn things fairly quickly, and you perfect it. Tonks explained it to say that some people will master the technical bits of a spell, and some will master the nuances of the spell. Would you say that you could lift something heavier now, that you could when you were a firstie?" Harry asked. Hermione paused for a moment, before nodding.

"Of course. I have experience with the spell."

"Now, think of it in terms of using the Patronus charm. We both know it is difficult, draining, and not something that most adults ever learn to cast corporally. And yet, I mastered it at 13, and I taught to a group of students with mixed results. Some of us got it, and others didn't."

"Why is that? If we can learn and teach it to others, shouldn't they be able to master the spell as well?" Hermione asked.

"Yes and no. Another thing that I had explained and demonstrated to me was the idea of magical affinity and talent. Some people are simply better at some branches of magic than others. You can have folks such as Dumbledore, and even Voldemort, whose sheer power and knowledge can close the gap on a branch that they may not have mastered. For the life of me, I could not see Voldemort being able to conjure a Patronus. His affinity never lay in protecting, always destroying. However, he could likely still wipe the floor with most other witches and wizards, handedly. Dumbledore, though, is a protector through and through and it shows in the very energy that he surrounds himself with. Do not mistake me though, Dumbledore can quite easily destroy nearly anything he sets his eyes on. Not having an affinity for a certain branch of magic does not make you incapable of performing that type of magic. However, it does alter the results." Harry sprouted off, hating sounding as if he were lecturing her. She seemed enthralled though.

She seemed so enthralled that she began to pace, going over and inspecting the smiling face he had left in the wall. She seemed to be nodding.

"I think my mind and magic work to respond to the technical and precise orders of completing magic. Yours, however, is responsive, intuitive even." She started. Harry opted to not interrupt her. "I've seen you do magic that literally took my breath away. It would seem, then, that the standardized way of teaching is handicapping students then. Especially if not everyone learns the same way. How come the professors don't do more?"

"They do, actually. However, while Hogwarts is an independent institution, it is still governed. Hogwarts is still expected to teach us the very basics of magic. From there, Remus explained to me that we are encouraged and expected to do a lot of independent research and studying on our own. Most of 7th year, if I heard correctly is about independent study and figuring out affinities and the like. It's not a perfect solution of course, but it is the best that can be done with all of the monitoring that the Ministry is doing." Harry responded, with a laugh. Hermione frowned.

"So, you're saying the ministry is hurting us by restricting what we can learn?" Hermione asked.

"Yes and no. I think we can both agree that society needs some sort of administration or structure. I'm not talking about the Pureblood and Muggleorn debate but more of the basic needs for everyone. Someone has to identify children that can learn magic. For Purebloods, it is easier for sure. But what about Muggleborns such as yourself where there is not an accomplished witch or wizard around to help such a child? The Ministry helps to make sure that those children don't go around destroying things due to the lack of training."

"That makes sense, in a Purebloods are better than everyone else kind of way." Hermione responded, her eyes back on the knives embedded in the wall. He could tell that she was attempted to try her own conjuration, just to see how it was done. She refrained, but only just.

"Well, Dumbledore, when he's not wiping the floor with me, talks about how being born a Pureblood doesn't make one superior or inferior. He told me that magic can be tainted in anyone, and that technically, there was a greater chance of a Pureblood producing a squib or a relatively weak witch or wizard than for a Half-Blood like myself." Harry responded, flicking his wand and turning the knives back into a single butterfly. It fluttered over to Hermione.

"I suppose that makes sense. The blood is likely diluted. After all, there are only so many Purebloods. Loads of them must be related by now." Hermione spoke, her eyes soft in the presence of the insect.

"Exactly. However they remain in power, mostly due to arcane laws that were truly established in a time where it is was common knowledge that Purebloods were the best of the best. These thoughts didn't just become apparent overnight; they've been embedded into the very laws that govern us. Up until 100 years ago, the Ministry could just take a magical baby from a muggle family, with no questions asked. Dumbledore fought that."

"I remember reading about that case. It took years for any difference to be made. But what does that have to do with the original topic? You know you can't avoid it." Hermione teased, still admiring the colorful butterfly.

"Sure, sure. The Ministry interferes at Hogwarts because the sheer might of the Purebloods allow it to. The money from the tuition fees is what keeps the school open right? What if all of those Pureblood parents were to pull their students from Hogwarts? What would happen to the school then. There're a few scholarships, sure, but not enough to sustain the amount of Muggleborn and Halfblood students. Dumbledore knows this. The school administration knows this."

"So the laws have to be changed from the top down? That makes sense, but how can we do that?" Hermione asked, despite the topic being far different than the one she had initiated.

"Yes. But it's not as easy changing some arcane laws, waving our wands and hoping for the best. We have to aggressively attack the powerbase of the Pureblood faction. I'm no good with politics, but it seems as if we first need a strong leader - someone that is not Fudge. We need someone that neither side can bribe into doing or not doing anything. We need someone that can really champion for everyone. Obviously, one person cannot change an entire country. From my understanding, the wizarding society is like a large ship, extremely slow to turn, or speed up. The status quo works due to the fact that it keeps people in power, and keeps gold flowing into their vaults. Truthfully, it would be to their disadvantage to change laws that benefit everyone."

"That makes a certain level of sense actually. So, we need someone like you?" Hermione shot back at him.

"Ha! Me? No, I'm not suited for that." Harry laughed, but seeing the look in her eyes, stopped. "Wait, you're for real? I'm not so sure. I know nothing about anything."

"That might be your best attribute actually. You do not know enough to have a biased opinion. You see things, how they affect people, and then you do something about it. I've been keeping up with the Daily Prophet, and there aren't nearly as acidic to you as they once were. I might've even read a compliment or two about you."

"Hermione, if it is one thing that I do know, it's that the wizarding world is a bunch of fucking sheep," He said harshly, before apologizing to her with a look. "It just gets frustrating, you know, not knowing if I am going to be a pariah one moment or a celebrity the next. I never know if the looks are pity, fear, or respect. I just know that people change their mind about things far too often with far too little reason for my liking -"

"Harry." A voice caught across him. It was Dumbledore.

"We'll have to finish this another time, then." Harry directed at Hermione, before walking away with the headmaster. A few steps outside of the room, and Dumbledore turned to face him.

"Earlier this summer, you asked me to promise to no longer keep secrets. I responded that if it did not adhere to any of my other oaths, I could do so. I think I can finally say that I have proven one of my suspicions and theories. Would you care to travel with an old man, I have some people that I want to introduce you to."

"Sure Headmaster." Harry responded easily, curious as to where Dumbledore would take him. He would regret his decision shortly.

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Cadet Jacobsen, freshly assigned guard duty in the worst place imaginable, was truly having a good day. He had strong Occlumency skills, and one of the more gifted up and coming Aurors in recent memory. From a young age, he had always been studious, a rule-follower, and all in all a well behaved Muggleborn. It was the last part that had stymied his dreams of becoming Minister and changing the laws. Early on in his career at Hogwarts, he realized that he would never amass the votes needed; simply because he could and would not be bribed. His father had always told him that you found out who you really were when you worked for things on your own. He did not want to owe favors, especially to the wrong sort of crowd. Favors like that didn't come cheap - one usually paid, one way or another.

In his patrol - 82 steps straight, 4 steps to turn around, and another 82 to return to the other end of the hall - he had a wonderful view of the ocean. Well, wonderful might have been false hope, but at least it was the blackened walls of his current location. Sometimes, if he dreamed enough, he could picture birds chirping in the sky, a beautiful blonde - preferably the one from training - on his arm, and an easy smile on his face.

Then everything stopped.

First there was light. And then there was sound. He paused his musing, sure that neither was the kind to celebrate.

A brilliant flash lit the night, brighter and more powerful than any bolt of lightning. A wave of sound, a cacophony, hit the ears with enough force to burst the ear drums. It was worse than unpleasant.

Through the pain in the ear, the blindness in the eyes, he felt something. The feeling was so profound that it felt as if his own magic was reaching out to touch it, to feel it, and to grasp it. He blindly reached out only to immediately jerk his hand back. It was hot! And only getting hotter by the second. He could feel it now, more than ever. Then he saw complete blackness.

It would be the last thing that he ever felt.

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He stood at the deep black gates of the only standing establishment on the Isle of Azkaban. His cloak, blacker than the night surrounding him, fluttered with a life of its own, moving to and fro – more of a cloud of smoke than a traditional cloak. Behind him was darkness, but in front of him, the gates were burning. His first spell, The Fist of the Devil, had shredded the defenses located at the gate, and physically bent the doors inward. Nearly the entire face of the prison had seemingly been pulverized. Bits of the surrounding wall continued to crumble as the magic from the spell began to take hold with the concussive force of the spell. It was a costly spell, but certainly a worthy one. The gates of Azkaban were not the strongest points of the island, as most would-be attackers would never consider the idea to attack the Fort in the first place. He was something different, something worst than a would-be attacker. He needed a new residence.

He paid little attention to the fact that the Apparation wards were still very much active. They would be dealt with soon – he had a bit more magic to work.

The Dementors came. Nearly as black as the night itself, they swarmed his location, their intent clear. They were hungry and needed to feed. There would be no feast on this night, for Lord Voldemort had come to Azkaban. A black shield flickered into place around him, warding off the cold - indeed, water from the crashing waves of the nearby ocean were turning into ice crystals before they even touched the ground.

"Remember who you serve." Voldemort spoke, a mere whisper. Suddenly the Dementors stopped fluttering to and fro, floating in place to regard the wizard before them. They parted before him, allowing another Dementor to come forth. This Dementor was taller, if possible, bigger too, in that it seemed as if he could freeze the very air around him. Voldemort smirked.

After a tense few seconds of silent staring, the lead Dementor, if there could be such a thing, gently waved a hand - the other dementors sped off into the night, away from the island. The Dementor floated, silently still, before seeming to fade into the night itself. Voldemort stepped forward, his wand raised. A harsh downward stroke sent the rest of the great doors crashing into beyond, heavy enough to crush anything in its way.

He took a deep breath and raised his wand to his lips; when he released it - for far longer than possible - a gray smoke curled from within and rapidly sped skyward. Within seconds, the anti-apparation wards were revealed. He suddenly jammed his wand into the ground, burrowing nearly to the hilt - and a red flash of light lit the area.

POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!

His Deatheaters had arrived.

"The island is ours. Free your comrades and bring the rest before me." Without question, they rushed forward.

Then, the inhabitants of Azkaban really began to scream.

Lord Voldemort had come to Azkaban.

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