I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.

Defiance of Fate

Chapter 3 – Into the Fray

"Nervous?"

Harry looked up and smiled weakly. "Little bit," he said to Rodriguez. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those that've experienced the wait before," the senior healer said kindly. "You've reorganized the potion rack several times now and cleaned the equipment twice."

Harry grinned. "Idle hands and all that I suppose. My Mistress used to tell me it's better to overprepare than under. Nothing can't be too ready or clean."

"Not entirely wrong, but sometimes you can work yourself into a state. You have to find other ways to focus or pass the time." He pointed at the medi-magicals around the tent. Some slumbered in a chair. Others played cards. One read. Another was sketching.

"I'll have to figure a hobby out," Harry said.

"Is this your first campaign?" Rodriguez asked. He looked surprised when Harry nodded. "You acted like a pro the other day."

"Well, I learned healing and the like during our…I guess you'd call it a civil war," Harry said.

The other man looked sympathetic. "Oh right. Yes, technically it was that, which is why the ICW never got involved. That must have been a difficult learning environment. Not much like this kind of war and conflict at all."

Harry shook his head. "No. Not knowing when people would come in hurt, trying to heal people when you don't have what you need on hand. Seeing a huge range of injuries. No centralized support. It was pretty rough. I guess it was different because you never know when something was going to happen so you got used to that. Here, I watched people assemble and leave together, intent on fighting. And I'm sitting here waiting for them to return one way or another."

"It's a different kind of wait," Rodriguez agreed. "Sure in open war, skirmishes happen and you can get wounded at any time but when a big push or maneuver happens, you have the misfortune knowing what is coming. And you hope and pray it isn't as bad as you thought."

Harry sighed. The night before, the ICW General in overall command had all the unit commanders meet. He described their first major operation, how they were going to make a concentrated push into enemy territory to establish a foothold. Units were shown where to go, their individual objectives, and the overall goals for the campaign.

That morning, the units had assembled and after the unit commanders had passed along their pertinent orders, they had moved out. Harry and the rest of the medi-magicals watched and waved as their friends and comrades in arms left. Now they waited at headquarters with the home-guard.

"What's it like for battles like this?" Harry asked.

"Similar to what we did the other day only bigger. Medics on the line will try to triage and prioritize. Portkeys for the emergency cases. We have a few flying carpets and some aerial support on broomsticks as escorts to act as ambulances too. All wounded will come here for initial treatment and then taken to individual hospital tents for prolonged care."

"There's no forward operating base for this?"

Rodriguez smiled. "No, we're close enough to the frontlines where it's not as needed right now. Eventually there will be and we'll have medical bases to stabilize people and then transport them back here to headquarters or even further back when they can be moved.

Harry sighed. "War's complicated."

"Sure is." Rodriguez gave him a look. "I have a question if you don't mind me asking. Feel free to tell me if I'm overstepping."

Harry had a feeling he knew what was coming. "I'll answer it if I can."

"I heard that you don't cast offensive spells at people."

"That's right."

"Not even a stunning jinx?"

"No, not even that."

"Not for self-defense?"

"I'm very good at shields and protective spells." Harry gave him an even look. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all. Just it'll be hard for you to be in a warzone."

Harry's smile was weary. "Can't be too different compared to what I grew up in."

Before Rodriguez could say anything, a klaxon sounded, filling the camp with a loud wail.

"Wounded already?" Harry asked.

Rodriguez shook his head. "No. That's to let us know that the enemy engaged. The battle started. We'll be seeing wounded soon though. It won't be much longer."

Harry nodded and found his hands to be shaking slightly. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"My apologies," Rodriguez said after a moment. "I'm sure you've had to defend yourself over that a lot. Not my place to pry."

"It's okay. Most people are curious about it."

The incoming wounded alarm shrieked and every person in the tent stopped what they were doing. "Stations!" Rodriguez called out. "Join me at triage?" he asked.

Harry tied the bandanna tight. "Right behind you."

The wounded started coming by portkey. Rodriguez and Harry would check with the incoming medic and disperse the patients. Specialists took the wounded and plied their skills. The medics would hurry out and apparate back to the battle site and it was not long before they returned with more wounded.

At one point one of the flying carpets landed and more patients were brought in. These were ones that were too weak for apparition or portkey, the trauma of the other forms of magical transport would kill them. Harry had run out to help bring people in and he looked at the carpet with worry. One corner was completely blackened and tattered.

"Got tagged on the way out," the flyer said grimly.

"How are things going?" Emily asked.

"It's a lot bigger of a fight than we thought. They came out in numbers. We're holding, but as you can see, it's bloody."

Harry, the Healers, and the medi-magicals worked solidly. The majority of the wounded were treated and stabilized but they started losing patients. The last few portkeys came in without medics. The soldiers attached with temporary transport threads but without escort.

Harry stood up from the latest one. The wizard had arrived already dead, eyes staring blankly up. He levitated the body to the corner where they laid out the fallen and he rushed over to the senior healer. "People are starting to come in without being stabilized. We don't know priority or anything."

Rodriguez cursed, his hands dripping with blood as he struggled to reknit a wizard's chest. "It must be really bad there."

"Let me go. I'll set up triage there and send people back tagged."

He stared at Harry. "You'll be at the front."

"I'll set up a station off the line but people need to be triaged properly or else we'll getting more dead than alive. I can do it."

Rodriguez hesitated for a brief second before the screaming patient brought him back. "Yun!" he bellowed. "Emergency trauma kit and mobile station! And an anchor!"

His second scrambled to assemble a large bag, strapping things to it and throwing things within. Harry grabbed his kit and shoved supplies inside. "Standard colors for priority?"

"Agreed. As soon as we catch up, I'll send you reinforcements. The anchor is an emergency Floo. We'll let you know when we're stable and you can send people through with an escort. Stay safe!"

Harry hefted the bag onto his back, holding it tight and nodding in thanks to Yun. Harry saw a medic about to return to the front. "Hey! Side-along me back with you!"

She nodded and grabbed his hand and Harry closed his eyes and felt the familiar squeeze and shove apparition did. He gasped when they apparated in. People were laid out haphazardly in a small area. Flashes of light and magic filled the air and he could see explosions and screams and war cries from what seemed close by.

"This is where you have the wounded?!" Harry yelled over the noise.

"It seemed okay at the time!" she yelled back, almost panicked. "The line moved but there's too many people here to move now! Most of the medics are on the line!"

"Protego!" Harry summoned an immense shield and something cracked off of it, a wayward spell shot their way. He shrugged off his pack and the heavy kit bag and ran forward. "Clear the way!" he shouted and pointed at a space. Soldiers scrambled back and Harry drew a symbol in the air with his wand before stabbing it towards the ground and pulling it up in an almost violent motion. "Lapis Obedire!"

A wall of stone erupted from the ground, shooting into the sky. Harry flung his arm left and right, throwing it above his head in a large circle. The wall spread around them and formed a dome over him and the wounded. The ends of the wall met behind them and the entire space was sealed off. Harry cut a door into the front.

"Someone cast protective shields into the wall!" he yelled and two soldiers started casting. He turned to the medic. "I'm Harry, can you stay here and assist?"

She nodded. "Call me Zuri. What do you need?"

"Help me set up." Between them they opened the emergency bag Harry brought. Zuri threw up crystal globes that floated in the air and she cast light charms into them, bathing the interior with light. Harry threw open the heavy mobile station and it unfolded at his magic, making a large examination table. He finished by taking a large torch and stabbing it deep into the ground. The top shuddered and a bright green fire erupted.

"Where did this come from? Harry?" Jack walked into the enclosure, supporting a witch who hobbled beside him.

"I set up a triage station," Harry said. "People weren't getting the care they needed and being sent back haphazardly."

"Thank goodness," Jack breathed. He helped set the witch down. "I'm with you, what do you need?"

"I'm going to start sorting. Help me with stabilizing and organizing more medics and wounded as they come in." Harry started working his way down a line of lying wounded, checking over them visually and with diagnostic charms. As he worked, he started marking them with colored paint from his wand.

"Zuri! Take all the ones marked in blue and start setting them up along the back!" he said when she approached. "Stasis charms, pain relief, and blood replenishers on them." Another medic ran to him. "Start levitating the ones in red towards the torch. Give them tenth measures of Living Death," he said. "That'll slow the bleeding and keep the shock at bay."

He waved at a group of soldiers that had been there when he arrived. "Are you lot going back to the line?"

"No," one said in thickly accented English. "We were separated from squads. We stayed behind to aid."

"I need a few on guard and maybe some runners out front to help others come in," Harry said. He swallowed. "And can a couple help me move the ones with black paint?"

"We are not medics," another said.

"It's okay. They're…they're gone," Harry said quietly.

The soldiers nodded soberly. "We will take good care," the first wizard said. "You focus on the living. We help the dead."

With a grateful nod, Harry returned to his work. As more medics arrived, some stayed to help the newly created aid station.

"Potter!" a voice called through the green flame on the torch. "We're stable on this end! You can start sending people through the anchor."

"Acknowledged! Zuri, start taking them back," he pointed at the ones with red marks. "All are priority and I marked off their immediate needs. Them first."

The woman nodded and she carefully held onto the arm of one person and touched the torch head. The fire flashed bright and she disappeared with the patient.

"Good thing you made these," Jack said as he administered dosages of potions to waiting wounded.

Another flash from the anchor and Yun appeared with two medi-magicals. "We're here to support," Yun said as she ran to Harry. "Things are stable enough back at base."

"Those are all priority evac back for treatment," Harry said, pointing at the waiting line of wounded. We've been treating most of the smaller cases here for now."

Yun directed one of the medi-wizards to transport the priority cases back through the anchor and she followed Harry's lead, healing grievous wounds and separating the incoming into respective waiting areas. The flow of incoming wounded was constant and steady but the team at the newly created aid station were able to control things. A steady stream of patients was sent back through the anchor with medi-magicals hopping back and forth with supplies and help.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" Sophie's eyes were wide as she limped in, supporting an injured Phillipe.

"Set up an emergency station. Things were getting bogged up back at base and we weren't treating the wounded well enough." He helped Phillipe down onto a camp stool. "Those are some big bite marks."

"Someone conjured wolves," Phillipe cursed. "Big pack of them. Tore into us before we took them and the conjurer down."

Harry murmured an incantation and Phillipe sighed with relief as the bite wounds sealed, new skin regrowing over the puncture wounds. "Could be worse," Harry said lightly as he gave Phillipe a vial.

"How?" Phillipe asked as he drank the vial in one gulp.

"Could be a swarm of venomous snakes."

Phillipe shuddered. "That would be worse." He sighed again as the pain relief potion went to work. "Thank you."

"Take a break over there and you'll be back up in a bit," Harry said. "How's the battle going?"

"We have them on the back foot," Sophie replied. "It was touch and go for a little bit. Their forces were much larger than we anticipated but we are winning the field and the advantage." She looked around the emergency station. "It does not look like victory from here though."

"Potter! What are you doing here?" Dawlish gasped. He was brought in by others from the UK unit, floating on a stretcher spell. Others were wounded as well and they all looked at Harry with surprise and mixed expressions.

"We needed an emergency triage," Harry said as he directed the group to an exam station. He threw diagnostic charms on the wounded and looked at the results. "I volunteered and helped set things up."

"You're awfully close to the action," Dawlish said snidely, groaning when Harry poked him in the leg with his wand.

"Good thing I am or else you'd probably lose the leg before you made it back." He drew a statis line around the wound and murmured a complicated charm. "You got hit with a rotting curse. If it hit you in the torso, you'd be really in a bad way. This will keep it stable until you get back and we can undo the damage." He ignored Dawlish's look of horror and moved on to the next patient, healing the jagged lacerations carefully. He moved from person to person. Luckily the majority of their wounds were treatable right there and a few gave him a smile or said their thanks. Others said nothing.

"Who did this?" A wizard stomped into the enclosure. His posture screamed belligerence; his eyes darted about.

"I did," Harry said, standing up and approaching the wizard. "We needed an emergency aid station."

"With permission from the ICW Senior Healer," Yun added.

The wizard waved her words away. "You made this?" the wizard asked, pointing at the dome.

Harry nodded.

"Why are you not on the line? If you have such strength, you should be fighting."

"I am a Healer," Harry replied as politely as he could.

"Healers can fight. Your magic is wasted in healing if this is what you are capable of." He ignored the silence that filled the enclosure, the way some stared at him.

"I don't fight," Harry said, gritting his teeth. "I am a Healer and I'm here for the wounded, not to fight."

The wizard growled. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter, Healer attached to the UK unit."

The wizard's eyes widened before narrowing. "Ah," he said, his voice condescending. "I have heard of you. You are the Coward of England."

The temperature dropped and no one made a sound, not even the wounded. Some stared at the older man appalled. Others looked at Harry with confusion or dawning recognition. Sophie glared at Harry's countrymen, at their silence, their reluctance to defend one of their own. She opened her mouth before someone else beat her to it.

"And who're you, besides being some kind of muppet?" A man that Harry had helped sat up, eyes blazing.

"I am General Karl Meyer of the German forces and you will show me respect!"

"Yeah? Back in Australia, you earn respect you fuckwit. This guy came running in to save us and you call him a coward? Fuck off!"

A few of the German soldiers bristled while others stood up to support their angry friend. The air grew thick with tension as both sides glared at one another.

Harry sighed and placed a hand on the wounded Australian. "It's okay," he said wearily. "It's true, that's what people call me. I'm used to it." He looked directly at Meyer. "Better witches and wizards than you have called me worse, Sir. I know my role here and I will not change it, most certainly not for you."

Meyer snarled with outrage. "I will not suffer a coward showing me such disrespect. You will answer for this!"

Harry's lips twitched. "I beg your pardon, but once more, better witches and wizards have tried that too."

The chuckle that ran through the enclosure, infuriating Meyer further. His hand twitched for his wand but then the anchor torch flared once more and Rodriguez appeared with more healers and another dressed in ICW command robes.

"What's going on?" the ICW Commander said, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing," Meyer said angrily. He glared once more at Harry before barking in German. German magicals began to move, picking up their wounded comrades. "I am taking my soldiers to my healers who will provide better care." He stomped out angrily.

Not all of the German magicals left as dramatically or angrily. The first few Harry met when he arrived at the site gave Harry sympathetic looks and respectful nods before they followed the rest of their unit out. Harry looked down at the Australian wizard. "Thank you," he said quietly.

The wizard winked. "Anytime mate. Don't listen to that muppet. You ran into a warzone and set up a hospital under fire. You might be crazy but you sure ain't a coward. Thanks for saving my ass."

Michael and Rodriguez approached him. "Good work," Rodriguez said. "Things were a lot smoother once you sorted people out before they got to us." He looked around at the dome. "Impressive conjuration."

"Potter was always good at protecting others," Michael said quietly. He looked over at the UK group. "How's ours?"

"Overall on the mend, nothing too bad here except that Dawlish has a rotting curse in his leg. I slowed it down but it'll need some runes and longer charms to undo everything," Harry said wearily, his fatigue catching up to him.

"That'll improve his attitude," Michael said wryly. "I'll start taking them back."

Harry watched for a moment before he noticed Vance entering the station. "Captain," he saluted.

She saluted back. "Good to see you," she said sincerely. She watched as Michael took the first group of UK soldiers through the anchor torch. "Casualty report?"

"No losses. Lots of wounded as you saw. Most will recover. Captain Dawlish has a rotting curse but probably won't have any permanent loss in his leg."

"That's good." She sighed. "We lost Talbot, Clemmens, and Proudfoot. Saw them die out there."

"I didn't really know them," he said sadly. "Did you?"

"Clemmens and I were in the same Hit squad. Went to Hogwarts with Proudfoot." Vance rubbed her eyes. "His little sister is a friend of mine."

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.

"Me too." She listened to his report of what brought him out here. "You did good, Harry."

He smiled wryly. "General Karl Meyer doesn't think so."

"Ignore him. He's as self-loving and arrogant as the oldest tossers in the 28," Vance said shortly. "He's decent at what he does though, which is why he's such a prick." She looked at him. "You okay?"

"I told him that better witches and wizards have said worse to me. I'll survive his insults."

She snorted. "Not what I meant, but you're not wrong. How're you feeling?"

"Tired. Spent a lot of energy healing."

"You look it. Get back to base. Get some rest."

Harry looked around. "I'll get back when we fully evacuate the aid station." He peered at her.

"I'm okay," she said but winced she waved her hand.

"Sure you are. You could be better though," he replied. He checked her over and healed her fractures. "The unit needs you, especially with Dawlish being hurt. They need you to watch out for them."

"Especially one stubborn bastard that doesn't watch out for himself," she said. Her snort at his oblivious expression spoke volumes.

-0-

Harry sat up, blinking tiredly. He had just gotten back to his tent and had just lain down when someone knocked on the tentpole. "Yes?"

"Pardon," Sophie said, "We were wondering if you would like to join us?"

Harry blinked some more, his mind working sluggishly. With a sigh he rose from his cot and walked to the tent flap, opening it. Sophie stood there with Phillipe and Leena. "Join you?"

"We have a tradition in the French Auror Corp," Phillipe said, "for when we lose friends and comrades. You have helped care for us and well, if you would like to join us, we would like you to be a part of it."

"We have a meal together, to toast our friends to their next journey," Leena explained.

"Oh." Harry thought for a moment. "I…I'd like that. Sure, uh, should I dress appropriately or something?"

"Come as you are," Sophie said. "We make exceptions for the field."

"One moment." Harry summoned a bottle of spirits from his trunk. "Would this be okay?"

The French Aurors smiled. "Perfectly. Thank you."

He followed them to their part of the camp. On the surface, their layout was similar to the UK unit. Tents were lined up in rows but they formed a square. In the square, tables were laid out and people mingled. Harry sat with the trio and he nodded companionably at the others there, recognizing Dylan from the other day.

Eventually all sat at the tables and every table seemed to have an empty chair or two. The Captain of the French unit stood and began speaking. He spoke smoothly and though Harry did not understand him completely, he looked somber and sounded sincere.

"He is listing the names of the fallen," Sophie translated. "Reading their years of service and their accolades. We sit in squads for the beginning, to be together one last time."

Harry looked at the empty seat at the table. A wand sat there as well as a folded flag.

"Alexander Planchet," Phillipe murmured. "He died before we could get him back to aid. He died well."

Finally, Captain Sauveterre held up a glass and everyone followed suit. "One last drink to our friends who have gone before us. Until we meet again. Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite."

They all drank and some of the mess cooks brought food around. People began to talk and conversation filled the air.

"Granted, it is still mostly rations or base food," Dylan said as he poured Harry a glass of wine, "but at least we have good wine."

"I think it might be a bit wasted on me," Harry chuckled. "It tastes very nice but I can't tell anything else about it."

"Neither do most people that drink wine," Leena replied to the laughter of others. "It either tastes nice or it does not. Ignore the louts that claim otherwise."

"Plebian," Dylan sighed.

Harry looked around. "Is it really okay for me to be here?"

"It is," Sophie assured him. "You helped Alexander that day and you treated more than a few of the unit today. I think we would have more empty seats if you did not."

"I didn't treat everyone," Harry demurred.

"No, but we heard how you came out and set up the emergency station," Leena said. "That saved lives."

"It had to be done." Harry took another sip of wine and munched some bread. "We were getting people who weren't stabilized well and emergency portkeys without medics accompanying them. We would have lost more."

"They hit us back hard," Phillipe sighed. "We thought we had a good position but they waited until we committed before countering. It was very dire for long moments."

"A few were taken prisoner at the end," Dylan said. "Hopefully we can have a better idea of their forces moving forward and we can have a better account of things."

"Do we have a list of casualties for us?" Desmond Allard asked.

"None that I know," Sophie said softly. "Not sure if I want to know."

They all fell silent, looking at the empty chairs at every table.

A man limped towards them, leaning on a cane. Sophie saw him. "Tomas," she greeted. "Glad to see you up and about."

"It is good to be up and about," he agreed. "It will be some time before my leg is back to full health, but I count my blessings to even have the chance."

Sophie noticed him looking at Harry. She frowned. "Tomas, you better be polite."

He snorted. "Yes yes," he said. He looked at Harry. "I would like to apologize."

"For what?" Harry asked, confused and the people closest was giving Tomas a shocked look. "Have we met formally?"

"No, but I still feel the need to. When I heard that you were part of the ICW forces I made a remark about your courage and said something unkind. I want to apologize for that. If you had not come out for us today, I might not have survived, much less have a chance at healing. You are no coward."

"Oh." Harry flushed. "It's fine. Really. I'm used to it but I appreciate it. How about we share a glass and call it even?" He held up the bottle of spirits he brought.

"That is most generous of you," Tomas said gratefully.

"Eh, this stuff is pretty gross," Harry said and the others laughed. "Hope you still feel that way after having some." He poured it out for everyone around and they all toasted one another before drinking.

"That is pretty foul," Tomas agreed. "I still feel like apologizing to you however."

"That's a relief," Harry smiled.

They ate and drank and talked into the night. "If you do not mind me asking," Tomas said after some time, "why is it your countrymen treat you so poorly?"

"Tomas, you're drunk," Sophie hissed.

"We are all drunk to be fair," Dylan said calmly.

"You don't have to answer," Sophie said to Harry, rolling her eyes.

Harry hiccupped. "It's okay. I don't blame people for wanting to know." He sipped his unknown number glass of wine. "People back in Britain are almost equally divided into two camps: ones who hate me, and ones who don't. The reason why they hate me is the same reason I got that delightful nickname."

"Because you are a pacifist," Sophie murmured.

"Conscientious objector," he corrected gently.

"What's the difference?" Leena asked.

"Pacifists say there is no justifiable reason for war or violence. I choose not to use violent methods myself but can see when it is necessary." He shrugged weakly. "A bit of a difference."

"Still, that is an odd reason to hate someone," Dylan said. "Why do they care?"

"Because of Tom Riddle Jr." He snorted at their looks of confusion. "Sorry, forgot you might not know that name. Lord Voldemort."

"His real name is Tom Riddle Jr? No wonder he took on that hideous title," Leena said. "It lacks the same…how you say…gravitas?"

"What does he have to do with it?" Phillipe asked.

"Because at one point, I was being called the 'Chosen One' and people got it in their heads that I was the one fated to stop him. There was a prophecy and people thought because I somehow stopped him as a baby the first time, it was my responsibility to stop him the second time."

"A prophecy? Preposterous," Leena snorted.

"Prophecies are real things," Tomas argued.

"They can be but most of them are self-serving. When people hear them, they either flee and the outcome happens or do everything they can to fulfill it thinking they have to," Leena argued. "I do not dispute true seers but it is all perception."

"But since you would not cast harmful spells," Sophie said, interrupting the budding argument, "your fellows hate you?" She spat in disgust at his nod. "They blame you for their shortcomings?! You were a child! Younger than Fleur and not much older than Gabrielle yes?"

"Tom got really bold when he found out that I wasn't going to fight back directly like that," Harry said quietly. He looked into the distance, into the past. "There was a lot of killing and violence on both sides."

"They hate you because they thought if you fought back, things would have ended more swiftly," Tomas said quietly. "That is…unfortunately understandable thinking." He held his hands up when others glared at him. "I am not trying to be insulting! I am merely saying so."

Harry smiled sadly. "I don't blame you." He drained his glass. "I don't even blame them sometimes."

"It's still not fair," Sophie insisted.

"No, but most things aren't," Harry replied.

Tomas refilled his glass. "That is the sad truth of it."

"But you did stop him," Dylan said. "Did you not?" He coughed at Harry's nod. "Then why are they still upset?"

"Because I didn't do it sooner."

"Despicable," Leena spat.

"They're not wrong. Things could have gone better if I fought back or did things sooner."

"Still does not make it right, how they treat you," Leena insisted. "How they continue to treat you."

"Most of the volunteers that came with you are like that?" Sophie asked sadly.

"Yup. Most of the volunteers are still pretty action minded, wanting to fight and the like. Most of the ones like that have a pretty dim view of me still."

"Why did you volunteer? Knowing they would continue to treat you like that?" Tomas asked baldly. "And being an objector, a war is the last place for one."

"I guess I'm still trying to do the right thing," Harry said at last. "I'm a good healer and if I can help people get better and come back from war, then that'll be good. It's the least I can do."

"Why though?" Everyone looked at Phillipe. "Why fight so hard for people that do not appreciate your efforts? Why not let them fend for themselves?"

"That's a good question," Harry admitted. "One I've asked myself a lot. I…just have to. Do the right thing." A small smile appeared, lop-sided and wistful. "A friend said once I have a 'saving people thing' and she's not wrong, but, I don't know. There's a lot of reasons I suppose. Guilt. Shame. A desire to prove myself." He shrugged. "Guess I'm still just trying to do my best, do my part."

"I can respect that," Tomas said and clinked his glass against his. "Well, you have changed my mind. May you have luck changing the minds of your fellows."

"I am very curious at how you stopped Riddle while not casting harmful magic." Dylan leaned in.

Harry shook his head. "It's a long story and I don't feel like getting into it right now. Maybe another time if that's okay. It's not a very pleasant memory."

"I would think that vanquishing your greatest foe would make a good one," Dylan remarked, looking vaguely disappointed. "However, I will respect your wishes. You have been very open with us already."

"I promise before the end of the war, I'll tell you." Harry took a big gulp. "How about another story? This one is pretty funny. It involves the brothers of an old friend who were pranksters." He soon had them howling at the exploits of the Weasley twins. That started more stories to be shared, of how they played pranks while at Beauxbatons and other French schools. Harry sat back and listened and smiled.

His smile did not quite reach his eyes.

-0-0-0-

You're very welcome. I think your chapter will go up on Thursday this week for Extended Family. Oh right, if I recall, you really like magical theory and exploration from Curse. I do come up with other stuff for this and have a big one as part of one of the big climaxes. I'm glad you enjoy my writing so and will do my best to continue to entertain and help you escape. That's high praise for me, knowing that I can help you bide time and forget the real world for a spell. Thank you.

DOOOOOOM Lord of Waffles - Still a Gryffindor but this setting had a few changes. Hope to keep you on the hook.

Hands Off MY Wolfie - I'm afraid I do not catch your meaning. Glad you think it is pleasant however. Things back in Britain will still be a big part of the story, and later on, more so.

Imaginer.012 - I think it will post tomorrow for Extended. Thank you for reading as always.

alix33 - They'll get theirs by story's end.

Qhaq - Good to see you, thank you.

Urgwaew - I'd go with your first guess, I tried to allude to it in that chapter. I put a lot of thought into Blaise's character for this and hope people enjoy this version. I'm trying to do things a little different with most characters while trying to keep their core personalities the same but we will see by the end of the fic if I was successful. I hope to have them feel like they make sense for the setting at least. Hope you continue to enjoy. Thank you. All the best to you.