Xenith
"Truth is the most valuable thing we have. Let us economise it."
~~~Mark Twain
Chapter Eighteen
Focus.
That's what Professor Figg had taught him. Focus. Focus for swordplay, focus for school work, focus for Quidditch . . . focus his magic.
Focus.
Harry held his wand out in front of him, steadied his hand, and tried desperately to summon up every dredge of power he possessed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He bellowed, his eyes flashing open as his wand tip exploded in a firework display of white hot light. His arm flew up to shield his eyes as the familiar silver stag galloped blindingly around the whole of the room. The stag returned to its maker, bowed his antlered head and vanished. Harry crumpled, curling in on himself. He felt completely drained of every ounce of his magic leaving only an acute ache---he couldn't breathe. And just as soon as the pain came, it left. He could breathe, and stand---he felt completely revitalised, magic flowing to his very finger tips. Harry's bespectacled eyes darted around the room, immediately taking notice of the fact that the majority of the class was staring open-mouthed at him, Ron and Hermione were half-way to the front of the room---wands in hand---Figg still perched on her desk as if she had been expecting something of this sort, and Malfoy, still scribbling away in his tidy, long script on his parchment.
The bell signaling the end of the class rang from some distant part of the castle.
Malfoy was the only one who moved, gathering his things and striding elegantly out of the large classroom.
"Fifty points to Gryffindor, class dismissed." They seemed to have worked out their astonishment and scurried to collect their things and leave the room. Harry followed suit, hurrying past his still immobile friends and snatching his books from his back row seat and left the room.
Ron and Hermione caught up with him in the corridor, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around to face them. "What?" Harry enquired quietly.
"`What?' All you have to say for yourself is 'what?'" Ron demanded.
"Harry, what happened?" Hermione said calmly, always the voice of reason.
"Nothing!" Harry argued, scaring three first year girls and causing them to run past the trio with their heads down. Harry lowered his voice, pulling his two friends off to the side. "Nothing happened."
"But you collapsed."
"Not only did you collapse, Harry, you stood up there for nearly ten minuets with your eyes closed. What were you doing?" Ron said cautiously.
"What? I was only up there for a minute or two." They both shook their heads. "I was up there for ten minuets?" Nods of consensus. "Why'd Figg let me stay then? Why didn't anyone stop me?"
"We tried, but Figg wouldn't let us talk. Said to just let you go---let you concentrate . . ."
"She wanted to see what you were going to do. Your Patronus, I suppose." Hermione murmured, her eyes darting over Harry's shoulder. "How did you do that Harry? I've seen your Patronus before and it's NEVER been like that. And you've never collapsed after one either, unless there was a dementor around that is."
"I didn't pass out though. I just . . . concentrated my magic I suppose. I wanted to beat Malfoy so badly. But he didn't even care."
"Yeah, what's wrong with him? He sat there writing the whole time, until you went, then he watched---his eyes never straying from you." Ron said, running his fingers through his hair.
"Got your eye on Malfoy now Ron?" Hermione retorted with a smirk very much resembling their nemesis.
"No!" Ron's shout echoing off the high ceiling. "He's not the one I've got my eye on." He muttered, blushing to the roots of his flaming red hair. "I've got to go---Divination." And he scurried away from them, ears burning.
"You shouldn't do that to him, Herm." Harry scolded, trying desperately to repress his grin and failing.
"Oh, I know," Hermione blushed, taking no notice of her nickname. "Look, I have to get to Arithmacy, we'll talk later?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Hermione's eyes darted over his shoulder again. "I think Professor Figg wants to speak with you." She mumbled under her breath as she nudged past him, nodding to the Defense Professor as she made her way to the Arithmacy classroom in the East Wing.
"That was quite a display Potter." Figg said softly, her words carrying across the distance nonetheless.
"So I've come to gather." Harry replied, making no move towards her.
"That was quite a Patronus." He didn't reply. "How'd you manage that?"
"Focus." He found himself answering before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue.
"Did you want to answer that?"
"No." He answered honestly.
"Then don't next time." She turned back to her classroom as the bell rang once more. "You're late Mr Potter. Good day." And she was gone.
"Spite!" He cursed, taking off down the corridor.
Harry dashed through passageway after passageway finally reaching the Charms hallway. //Only a corridor and a tower away.// He paused, sucked in a great gust of air and increased his speed tenfold only to have his breath completely knocked out of him as an arm shot out of the shadows of his Charms classroom and clamped over his mouth. His scream was muffled as a body slammed into his back and dragged him backwards into the room. The door smashed in front of him and a locking spell was hissed at the lock.
"Promise not to scream and I'll let you go." A deep, vaguely familiar, voice muttered in his ear. Taking no heed of the voice he clamped his teeth into the warm flesh covering his mouth. The hand immediately let go of him. Harry spun on the spot, pulling his wand on the boy.
It was Terrence Higgs. Slytherin's reserve Seeker.
"Damn-it Potter!" The handsome sixth year yelped, holding his injured right hand with his left---no wand in sight. "I'm bleeding. What'd you do that for?"
"What'd you attack me for?" Harry returned, wand still trained on the Slytherin. Higgs didn't really seem in any rush to answer though. He brought his right palm to his mouth and sucked at the blood before pulling an old piece of white linen, with a delicate black embroidered TH, from his back pocket, securing it tightly around his palm.
"Put that away Potter." He addressed Harry finally, walking past him and knocking at his hand before casting a Silencing Charm on the door. "I'm not here to fight you." Harry pocketed his wand, though not without some very obvious trepidation.
"What'd you attack me in the corridor for then?" He repeated.
"I didn't attack you Potter. I would have used a curse or a Stunning Spell if I wanted to attack you."
"Get on with it Higgs, I'm already late for class as it is."
"Divination, right?" Harry nodded, confusion spreading like the Black Plague over his features. "Yeah, and I bet you're terribly disappointed that you're missing so much of it."
"Why do you know my timetable?"
"We all have your course table memorised. And Quidditch practices, library study sessions---"
"All of whom exactly?"
"All the children of the Dark Lord's followers." In the second it took Harry to whip out his wand, Stunning Spell on his lips, Terrence Higgs' wand had slid out of his sleeve, disarmed him, and casually pocketed Harry's wand. Harry had never seen ANYONE move so quickly in his entire life.
"I _told _ you Potter, I'm not here to fight," and seeing the perplexed look that flashed though Harry's eyes he added: "And I'm not about to turn you over to the Dark Lord, worry not."
He waved his hand idly in his direction and crossed to one of the long rows of desks and perched gracefully atop them.
"Give me my wand back." Harry growled, not yet ready to trust the Slytherin.
"Tut, tut, tut," he twitched his finger at the youth. "Not so fast."
"Don't patronise me Higgs."
"Okay, will you hear me out?" He nodded.
"I'm late---"
"---for class. Yeah, yeah, I know."
"If you know so much then why don't you explain why you hauled me in here? I'm not going to drag it out of you."
"Why so touchy Potter?" Terrence said, ignoring Harry's persistence.
Harry said nothing; not wanting to admit out loud why he was upset; he should have know he was there---was going to jump out at him. Professor Figg had told him that, eventually, he would start picking up on the smallest of details. //Why didn't I hear him? He's a big guy, I should have heard him.// He blamed himself.
//Yeah, but he is thin,// his rational side argued back. //And a seeker, and has probably had loads of Dart Arts training.//
"Not going to answer, eh?" Higgs shrugged, interrupting Harry's inner repartee. "Oh well."
"Higgs . . ." Harry growled, and not for the last time.
"Touchy, touchy," He hopped off the desk and approached the smaller Gryffindor. "I have a proposal for you Potter---"
"Not marriage I hope. Because I'd have to turn you down."
"Oh darn, and here I was looking forward to playing mummy to all your Gryffindor spawn."
"Sorry to disappoint you." He crossed his arms defiantly.
"Again, I'd like to make a deal with you Potter."
"What sort?"
"Well, let's put it this way, I've grown sick of the Dark Lord."
"What?" His arms dropped to his sides as his eyes widened and his mouth nearly fell to the floor.
"I. . .HATE. . .my . . .job." Higgs explained carefully, as if he were speaking with a small child.
"And. . ." Harry let his question hang as he gathered his composure.
"And," he took a deep breath, for the very first time showing his nerves. "I'm converting."
---
"Harry! Where were you?" Ron hissed at him when he collapsed into jis Divination armchair, well over an hour late and completely ignoring the bewildered looks his classmates and their insect of an instructor were shooting him. "I know I left you with Hermione," a slight blush crept into his cheeks. "But you couldn't have been there with her too much longer. She'd _never_ risk being late for Arithmacy. Trelawney was going on and on about you being mauled by rampaging dragons. I didn't believe her for a second though, of course---"
"Breathe Ron," Harry muttered as the bell signaling the end of the class sounded and the two boys dashed to the trap door and slid down the silver ladder. "I'll telll you all about it later. We need to see Dumbledore tonight. Eleven pm." Ron nodded
---
Chris made her way slowly through the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons. She let loose an almighty yawn and stretched her arms over her head. She paused halfway down the damp, musty corridor to Serverus' office and pulled at the tie holding her hair from her face. She shook out the dark tangly mane and rolled down the billowing burgundy sleeves of one of Mat's giant, old tunics (its ragged cuffs hanging well past her finger tips). She yawned again and was about to continue on her way when she caught a snatch of deep, low song floating down the dank corridor:
"Here's to the night we felt alive . . ." she followed the voice around the corner, slowly gaining volume. ". . .Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry. Here's to goodbye . . ." she found the classroom the voice was emanating from. ". . . tomorrow's going to come too soon . . ."
"Fred?" She stuck her head into the classroom.
". . . tomorrow's going to come too soon . . ." Fred finished softly to himself as he scrubbed at a particularly nasty spot of frog goo on the flagstone.
"Fred?"
"Wh---!?" He nearly jumped out of his trousers as he leapt to his feet, catching sight of the dragon girl.
"Hey." She said softly, slipping through the door and shutting it soundlessly behind her.
"God, you scared me." He sighed, wiping off his sweaty brow with a small clean portion of the rag and leaning against one of the already spotless desks.
"I noticed." She took a hesitant step towards him.
"Why're you down here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"Detention."
"I have a meeting with Snape."
"Too bad."
"He's not too bad."
"To each his own."
"What'd you have detention for?"
"_Someone_ stuffed a couple of dead toads full of fireworks and chucked them under the Slytherin cauldrons. Caused quite a bit of a mess apparently."
"That's wonderful. Do you knew who did it?" An impish grin spreading across her face as she made her way progressively closer to him.
"Had to have been someone _incredibly_ smart. . ."
"Absolutely."
"And handsome. . ."
"Of course."
"And an utter genius."
"Must've been George."
"Hey!" He punched her playfully in the arm as she stopped half a metre away from him.
"Hot?" She said out of the blue.
"What?"
"Were you hot?" She nodded at his discarded school robes thrown indolently over Professor Snape's desk. "No robes. . ." she ran her finger down the centre of his chest. ". . .no jumper. . ." she took the tie between her thumb and forefinger, sliding down the length of scarlet and gold ". . .loose tie. . ." her fingers trailed over his Quidditch hardened biceps to his bunched sleeves. ". . .rolled cuffs. Were you warm?"
"A bit." He choked out, his voice husky.
"I do like this colour on you." She stroked his green toned face lightly---fingers just grazing his cheek. She mussed his green sweat drenched hair. "Even if you DO smell a little gross." She gave a light laugh as Fred pulled her roughly into his arms. "Eager, are we?" She pulled back slightly. "How do you even know I _want_ to kiss you?" She laughed again, it was light and airy and full of passion. Fred brought his mouth to hers for a third time, gently at first but then with enough force to bruise her lips. Her arms locked behind his neck, her fingers twining in his short spikes. They stumbled, knocking Fred backwards onto the aforementioned desk---the lithe girl landing atop him and knocking the air from his lungs.
But he didn't care. He felt the weight of her all along his body, pressing him into the ink wells and stray books littering the desktops, a constant, never ceasing pressure all along his chest and legs as everything he'd ever felt for the worm girl built like a tornado in his head; magic roaring through his ears as all of the blood in his body sped around in his veins, felt himself being crushed, burned, annihilated---and he wanted it, wanted to disappear entirely into this sensation and forget everything else.
He had been kissed before, but not like this; he had kissed her before, but not like this. Before her feelings had never matched his, it had always been him kissing her. Even their last kiss, in the hospital wing, he had sensed her reluctance, her unwavering knowledge of how wrong it was. But now . . . now her emotion matched his, all his desire, hope, adore and confusion mirrored in her own; it was her body pinning him to the desktop, her hands tightening on the cloth of his shirt, yanking it up so violently that some of the buttons popped off. "Hey." He said in mild indignation, when she smiled he felt it against his mouth.
She slid one of her hands inside the open shirt while the other yanked his tie over his head---momentarily separating the two youths. Fred's mouth clamped onto her neck, finding the pulse point that made her shudder against him. He felt her long, cold, rough fingers running up and down his chest and sides. His heart was trying to bang its way out of his ribcage and he couldn't get enough air, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was her, the feel of her and the taste of her skin and mouth. She was kissing him so hard he could taste blood too but that didn't matter either.
Chris crouched on her knees over his legs and pulled Fred up by his collar so they were sitting on the desks facing one another. He was never going to be able to sit in Potions anymore without getting turned on. "Fred," She panted out. "Fred, other side."
"Huh?" He pulled away, momentarily distracted as she ripped his shirt from him.
"Other side, Fred," she moved his mouth to the other side of her neck and attacked. "You can't mark me." She let the smallest of moans escape her lips as she locked her scantly clad legs around his waist. Fred's hips bucked at the contact and he wrenched the too large tunic off her shoulders, exposing her elegant, however scared, collar bone.
"Bloody fuck." She muttered, biting slightly into his muscular, passion flushed shoulder.
"What?" He mumbled stupidly, sliding his hands beneath the back of her top, the fact that she was only wearing a tight wrap-'round shirt beneath it hitting him like a freight train.
"I have to go." She pushed at him softly.
"Huh?" He detached his mouth and let his hands snake around beneath the front of her shirt.
"I have a meeting. . .I'm late." Her entire body let loose an uncharacteristically violent shudder completely betraying her words.
"Mmmm." He murmured, dragging his tongue along the lines of her shoulders.
"I . . . I have to go." She pushed herself away from the Gryffindor, pulled her tunic back over her shoulders and ran a deeply blood pitted hand through her haphazard locks.
"Where are you going?" Fred questioned, finding himself at a complete loss---her mirth-filled laugh didn't help any.
"I have to meet someone, remember?"
"No!" Fred was so frustrated she could almost see a red tinge breaking through the vibrant green.
"Snape, Mat and I have a meeting with him."
"Nooo!" He groaned, flopping backwards and looking as if he were about to explode right there on the desktop, which he probably was. She crossed back to him, pulling him back into a sitting position and placing a soft kiss on his cheek before Fred captured her lips again in a vain attempt at re-engaging her. She grazed an agonisingly tantalising hand down his chest.
"Another time," she laughed softly. "Another time." And she left Fred to talk himself down.
---
"Acid-pop." Hermione supplied as the gargoyle revealed the entrance for the trio. "He's expecting us?" She asked Harry.
"I don't know, Higgs supposedly set this up." He muttered under his breath.
"You're sure this is not a trap? He IS a Slytherin."
"No, I'm not sure."
"Wands out, I'd say." Hermione said softly. The two nodded and slid their wands out of their pockets. They reached the top of the rotating staircase and Harry knocked softly on the aged door.
"Come in, Hullo Harry, Ron, Hermione," Dumbledore greeted them. "Have a seat." He motioned to a couch along the far wall; the three seated themselves and hid away their wands without any notice. "The rest will be joining us shortly."
"Rest?" Harry asked.
"You'll be sitting in on a small meeting."
"For the Order, sir?" Hermione perked up.
"Yes, m'dear."
"Why are we here then?"
"That's why I asked you to come earlier then everyone else. The three of you have come to be some of the most prominent names in the wizarding world---and not just because of your connections to Mr Potter."
"How so?"
"Well, Hermione, the Ministry has had their eyes on you for quite some time."
"Why?" She asked, sitting up straighter next to Ron.
"First it was due to your close relationship with Harry, then your marks, and they found out how you got past Professor Snape's potion challenge in your first year here---and they've had your magical career planned out for you since."
"What?!"
"And Ron," he continued with the slightest of smiles. "Your family's quite well known in the magical community."
"We are?" The cracking of Ron's voice throwing Harry off of the idea that the conversation seemed just a tadtoo well rehearsed.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes you are. Your family used to have a lot of say in the way things were run."
"Used."
"Your father has become rather unpopular since the end of last year due to the unfortunate happenings at the finale of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
"Yes."
"All of Ron's family have joined the Order, even our young Mr Weasley. Go on." Ron nodded and unbuckled his watch strap. He turned over his left hand and showed Harry and Hermione. On the inside if his wrist, parallel to the heel of his palm, was the smallest of feather tattoos. The red-orange of the inch long mark was the exact shade of the freckles scattered all over the red-head's body.
"What does this mean?" Hermione said softly, her delicate fingers brushing over the tattoo.
"It's so the members of the Order of the Phoenix can identify one another.
"Is it used to summon?" Harry asked. "Like the Dark mark?"
"Yes but only in the most dire situations---" He was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. The knocker didn't wait for permission to enter before barging in.
"`Lo Dumbledore," It was Alastor Moody closely followed by a small heard of wizards and witches; Mr & Mrs Weasley, Fred and George, Chris, Mat, Timothy, Adam and Eddie Jameson, Professors Snape and Figg, Terrence Higgs, and finally a tall, dark man wearing a short traveling cloak and, what appeared to be, a black tunic and trousers of the same sort their substitutes had the habit of wearing.
"I'm sorry to do this but, Mr Higgs?" Dumbledore waved over the scarlet and gold Slytherin. Higgs nodded smartly and crossed behind the Headmaster's desk. He knelt facing away from the standing wizard and bent his chin to his chest.
"What are y---?" Harry began.
"Wait Harry." Ron hissed.
Dumbledore peeled back the collar of his black ribbed mock-turtleneck and placed the tip of his wand at its base, where his spine bulged as it ran into his neck. The moment the wand touched his skin his entire body convulsed as if he'd been electrocuted. The wand left his neck and Higgs stood and came over to the couch holding the three fifth years. Ron held out his wrist for the Slytherin. Higgs' eyes clouded over as he analysed the feather tattoo. He nodded and moved to the next wizard, each revealing their Phoenix mark as he came to them---Mr Weasley, right ankle---inside, Fred, bottom of his left foot, George, his right, followed by Chris, Mat, Timothy, Adam, Eddie (Mat's twin) sporting his on the inside of his left thumb, Professor Snape, the inside of his bottom lip, Figg, the base of her back, and Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody, the top of his left hand---all received nods of verification. When Higgs finally reached the one occupant of the room Harry couldn't identify the man took down the hood of his travelling cloak to reveal a strong, square-featured man with sharp, blue/black eyes all situated beneath a mop of short dark hair. He showed the cloudy-eyed Slytherin the palm of his left hand. Satisfied, Higgs nodded, crossed back to the Headmaster and knelt before him as the aforementioned procedure was once again administered.
"I don't like having to check my loyalties every time we gather, but considering previous transgressions against myself and this school, it is a caution I deem necessary." Professor Dumbledore explained.
"We all understand Albus, no need to apologise every time you call us together." Moody grumbled, seating himself in one of the chairs facing his desk.
"Yes, well our ties with one another must be closer then ever," Harry could have sworn he saw Fred's eyes dart to their female substitute, but Chris took no notice of the look and remained immobile beside her siblings, hands clasped behind her back. "And I take no comfort in distrusting those whom I place my all my faith in."
"Nor do I," Moody commented, eliciting the smallest of chuckles from Professor Figg. "But faith is a fickle thing, Albus, a fickle thing. But down to business! You told the whole school of the Bulgarian attack, I presume?"
"They need to know, to try and understand what is happening to their world."
"Aye, that it be," Mad-eye said gruffly. "But what happened? How did the Death Eaters kill that great gangly beast?"
"A Chinease Fireball." Tim Jameson offered.
"A dragon?" Mr Weasley asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Yes, two of them actually, they've begun training their own." Adam helped out from beside his brother. "Only the largest, most vicious feral worms suffice."
"And who would train a thing like that?" Molly Weasley asked, aghast.
"We did, for some time actually."
"You trained dragons for You-Know-Who?"
"No, the feral Fireballs, Ridgebacks, Greens, even the occasional Hungarian Horntail."
"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Did you say Ridgeback? As in Norwegian Ridgeback?"
"Yes, why?"
"Nothing, I just knew one once." He said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. No-one questioned him further but he saw the shadow of a smile cross the Headmaster's face.
"Well anyway, we've got two Fireballs, an Eagle-Eye, nine Welsh Greens---"
"They seem to be the tamest and most easily trained of them all." Eddie interrupted his brother.
"---four Sypros, six Hydro Chems, and a Ridgeback who's just finishing his training and should be able to hold a station at Hogsmeade sometime after Christmas." Adam finished.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, folding his hands across his desk. "And we have someone lined up for the position? We need two in Hogsmeade, preferably someone with prior knowledge of the terrain."
"Possibly," Eddie supplied. "He's playing Quidditch right now, but he'll take the job. Just give'em some time."
"All the riders are athletes." Chris spoke up for the first time upon entering the office. "And most Quidditch. I think we've got one who's into Quadpot . . ."
"Yeah, Nathan Andrews, Charlie Weasley's mate." Mat said.
"And most are either Keepers or Seekers, the creame of the crop. And all are young---none older than twenty-five."
"They're trained in military tactics?" Dumbledore asked.
"They've all had, at least, basic training. Our top rider is---"
"Was." Mat corrected.
"Was a Level-Five Archangel. But he dropped out, preferring to fight with you rather then the Ministry. With how corrupt it's become of late I don't blame him."
"Charles Wallace?" Dumbledore inquired, riffling though the papers on his desk for his file.
"Yes sir, he's just seventeen last month, I believe."
"And he was a Level-Five Archangel? At sixteen?" Mr Weasley said skeptically.
"One of their youngest to date."
"And you've been through this type of training also?"
"Arthur," Dumbledore said softly. "He's not the only one who's had all of his schooling compacted." His sharp blue eyes darted to the Jameson children present. "Am I right in presuming you've all finished the required seven years of schooling by age fourteen?" They all nodded. "And what sort of military training have you received?"
"I've had half-a-year of basic M.o.M. training, all of us have, followed by two years of Auror training, a year of field experience, and I was a Seven-Minute Man for four months before coming here." Timothy replied.
"I made it to Level-Two Archangel." Adam said.
"Basic Auror training and field work." Eddie said. "Mat too."
"Basic, field work, and half-a-year in the States for flight training." Chris finished.
"So they're all trained, what's your point?" Mad-eye complained. "Wonderful, why was Voldemort able to destroy that Gringotts so easily if they're so highly qualified?"
"Dark magic?" Hermione said softly from the side of the room.
"Obviously." Snape snipped, Hermione closed her mouth and sank deeper into the couch next to Ron. He touched her arm for a moment before drawing his hand back quickly, realising what he had done and blushing.
"Yes Hermione, dark magic." Dumbledore smiled fondly at her, causing her to brighten slightly. "It was an attack, the fifth attack since the end of last year. The first four were all on Muggles equidistance from Harry's aunt and uncle's residence." His eyes fell on Harry at this point. "Twelve Muggle killings thus far---all unpublished and hushed over by the Ministry. This attack on the Bulgarian Gringotts has been made known to the public. _Thirty-seven_ wizard deaths and over a hundred goblins."
"And what of the two dragon riders?" Mad-Eye grumbled.
"Both gone. The dragon that made it back to us is much like a homing pigeon. We were lucky with this one---they've stopped being trained in that manner, too easily traced." Tim said.
"And how do you know it wasn't followed?"
"Don't you think something would have happened by now if it was?" Tim snapped, His dark gray eyes flashing heatedly at the crippled old man.
"Possibly, but you have this school protected, Dumbledore? Are the students safe? That's everyone's number one priority."
"This school is protected in more ways than even I know, or understand for that matter." Dumbledore said.
"We've thought that in the past, Albus, and we've all seen how well that's turned out. Your school was invaded by an imposter and a boy was killed just last year!"
"The imposter only even made it into this school due to your inability to defend your own home, Alastor." Snape drawled quietly.
"I _know_ what has happened in the past," Dumbledore broke in before the inevitable rude exchange had a chance to take place. "But we have taken every conceivable precaution available."
"Do you have dragons guarding this place too then?" Mad-Eye asked, his blue eye glaring at Snape while his brown focused on the herd of Jameson's.
"Yes," Tim said. "Steve and Tom are out there now. Brian and Brad have the day shift tomorrow. Adam, Eddie and I have tomorrow during the day; Steve and Tom take nearly every night. Chris and Mat don't take the watch ever due to the terrors of teaching." He shot his youngest siblings the smallest of smiles, the first time he'd seen him do so in the short time he'd known him. "Although, I don't think Mat actually does that much." Harry could hear Mat's knuckles crack as he clenched his fists.
"Well then, seeing as it is quite late, and some of you have classes tomorrow," Dumbledore said, his eyes travelling over the five Gryffindors and the Slytherin. "Mister Higgs, you know what you need to do?" He nodded. "Then make sure you make the proper arrangements. You may go."
"Yes, sir." And he left the room.
"Fred, George? Keep your eyes open, as of now you are my only connection at the student level---they keep far too much from their Professors. Report what you deem relevant." They nodded and exited the office.
"Harry, Hermione?"
"Yes?" Hermione replied.
"I need you to pay close attention to Ron. He knows a lot more than he lets on, even to his best friends. Listen to what he has to say and do what he needs you to do. If you have any questions at all about anything he tries to teach you or information he passes along, feel free to come to me about it. I'll always be here."
"Yes, Professor."
"Come-on." Ron pulled on the arm of Harry's robes.
"Wait, Headmaster?" Harry said, coming to his feet. "Do you think you could do something 'bout this?" He held out his green and silver arm. "Preferably for all of us? Haven't we suffered enough?" He smiled half-heartedly.
"Of course." He said, his face breaking into its usual wrinkled grin. With an almost casual wave of his wand the green evaporated from his skin---leaving him seemingly paler than before.
"Thanks." Harry sighed, glad to finally be back to normal, well, as normal as one could be when they were Harry Potter. He allowed Ron and Hermione to drag him from the tower office
---
"Hey look!" George said, holding out his arm for his brother's inspection. "We're normal coloured again! Well as normal as we ever are at least."
"George," Fred said, stopping half-way down the corridor from Dumbledore's office and taking next to no notice of their sudden lack of Slytherin colours. "I want to---"
"---wait for Chris." George finished.
"Yeah, I'll meet you at Gryffindor tower later."
"Try not to be _too_ long, I do need my beauty rest." George said in a high, girlish voice, pretending to flip his hair over his shoulder
"I won't." He made to turn away.
"And Fred?" He grabbed his arm.
"Yeah?"
"You need to do something 'bout Angelina. She really likes you."
"I know."
"Break up with her then!"
"And how should I go 'bout doing that?"
"Well, I know, for a fact, that Rupert Balin, the new Hufflepuff Seeker, fancies the pants off her."
"Really?"
"Yeah, and if you talk to him I bet you can get him to make a move on it. 'Specially if you're not paying any attention to her. Then you might even get lucky and she'll break up with you!"
"Good, I'll do that. See you tomorrow."
"Bye."
Fred slunk into the shadows next to a large statue of Nathan the Numbskull holding a map upside-down and scratching his head.
"Did you get all that?" Ron asked softly as they got off of the moving staircase and the gargoyle leapt back into place.
"What is you are supposed to teach me?" Harry asked, running his fingers though his hair as he had a habit of doing when he was upset and stressed about something.
"A lot." Ron answered, trying to see what his friend was thinking in the dark of the corridor.
"And between the end of last year and the beginning of this one, when did you have the time to learn it all?"
"Over the summer. While you were having an absolutely smashing time with your lovely relatives, I was studying! And you _know_ how much I love that."
"When do we start?"
"Well, now I sus. . ." Fred didn't catch the end of Ron's sentence as they drifted further and further down the corridor.
"Who else have we got for Hogsmeade?" Chris asked as she and her four brothers appeared from behind the gargoyle.
"We're recruiting students here starting after Christmas," Tim said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Hopefully we'll get some of the Quidditch players."
"Shush." Mat held up his hand to halt his siblings. Even in the dark of the corridor the five highly trained wizards could sense someone lurking in the shadows near the statue beside them. "Who's there?"
"Fred came slowly out of the shadows, hands behind his head. "It's just me, worry not."
"Weasley!" Mat groaned, pocketing his wand, his siblings following suit.
"You shouldn't be lurking." Chris reprimanded.
"Sorry, I just wanted a word with you---'bout today's class." He lied quickly.
"Alright," she nodded for her brothers to go, almost all departing immediately. "I'll be fine, Mat. Really."
"See you tomorrow." He said, letting loose the smallest of smiles at his sister before sending a warning glare at Fred. "Weasley."
"Professor Jameson." Fred said, watching Mat slip into a stone passageway between a suit of armour and a portrait of a decrepit old wizard snoozing against his frame.
"Is it just me, or is your brother a bit edgy?"
"He's---we've---been through a lot together. And after what happened to our mum. . ." She trailed off, turning away from the Weasley and hugging her arms to her chest.
"Chris, what happened?" He approached her cautiously from behind and gently caressed her shoulders.
"Come-on, let's go to my room." Fred had had no idea what to expect when he'd posed the question but it definitely wasn't that.
"Okay."
She laughed.
"Will you tell me later then?"
"Yes, but not here."
"And why you were in Dumbledore's office just now?"
"Everything, Fred. I promise."
"Just one more thing."
"Yes?" She turned back to him.
"Can I. . ." he trailed off, feeling like he was eleven again and trying in vain to court Angelina for the first time. "Can I hold your hand?" He ducked his head as he blushed to the roots of his hair and the tips of his ears.
She laughed again and touched his face lightly, bringing his eyes back to her own. "Of course." She slid her hand into his and let her lips brush against his before murmuring in his ear. "Come on."
---
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((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-
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A/N: Wooo! This is my longest chapter ever!!! Seventeen Pages!!!!! As usual, Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated!!!!!!! A special note to Baby Bumblebee: It follows the summary, worry not! I'm almost there! (And the snog session was inspired by Cassandra Claire's wonderful works! Everyone should read her stuff!!! And the song Fred sings isn't mine, it belongs to whomever it belongs to, I don't have the name with me and I'm far to lazy to look it up at the moment!) Oh, yeah, and the name 'Charles Wallace' is taken from 'A Wrinkle in Time', a wonderful book everyone should read, and worry not, it's not the beginning of a cross-over story---I just love the character and wanted to borrow his name for my own use.
"Truth is the most valuable thing we have. Let us economise it."
~~~Mark Twain
Chapter Eighteen
Focus.
That's what Professor Figg had taught him. Focus. Focus for swordplay, focus for school work, focus for Quidditch . . . focus his magic.
Focus.
Harry held his wand out in front of him, steadied his hand, and tried desperately to summon up every dredge of power he possessed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He bellowed, his eyes flashing open as his wand tip exploded in a firework display of white hot light. His arm flew up to shield his eyes as the familiar silver stag galloped blindingly around the whole of the room. The stag returned to its maker, bowed his antlered head and vanished. Harry crumpled, curling in on himself. He felt completely drained of every ounce of his magic leaving only an acute ache---he couldn't breathe. And just as soon as the pain came, it left. He could breathe, and stand---he felt completely revitalised, magic flowing to his very finger tips. Harry's bespectacled eyes darted around the room, immediately taking notice of the fact that the majority of the class was staring open-mouthed at him, Ron and Hermione were half-way to the front of the room---wands in hand---Figg still perched on her desk as if she had been expecting something of this sort, and Malfoy, still scribbling away in his tidy, long script on his parchment.
The bell signaling the end of the class rang from some distant part of the castle.
Malfoy was the only one who moved, gathering his things and striding elegantly out of the large classroom.
"Fifty points to Gryffindor, class dismissed." They seemed to have worked out their astonishment and scurried to collect their things and leave the room. Harry followed suit, hurrying past his still immobile friends and snatching his books from his back row seat and left the room.
Ron and Hermione caught up with him in the corridor, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around to face them. "What?" Harry enquired quietly.
"`What?' All you have to say for yourself is 'what?'" Ron demanded.
"Harry, what happened?" Hermione said calmly, always the voice of reason.
"Nothing!" Harry argued, scaring three first year girls and causing them to run past the trio with their heads down. Harry lowered his voice, pulling his two friends off to the side. "Nothing happened."
"But you collapsed."
"Not only did you collapse, Harry, you stood up there for nearly ten minuets with your eyes closed. What were you doing?" Ron said cautiously.
"What? I was only up there for a minute or two." They both shook their heads. "I was up there for ten minuets?" Nods of consensus. "Why'd Figg let me stay then? Why didn't anyone stop me?"
"We tried, but Figg wouldn't let us talk. Said to just let you go---let you concentrate . . ."
"She wanted to see what you were going to do. Your Patronus, I suppose." Hermione murmured, her eyes darting over Harry's shoulder. "How did you do that Harry? I've seen your Patronus before and it's NEVER been like that. And you've never collapsed after one either, unless there was a dementor around that is."
"I didn't pass out though. I just . . . concentrated my magic I suppose. I wanted to beat Malfoy so badly. But he didn't even care."
"Yeah, what's wrong with him? He sat there writing the whole time, until you went, then he watched---his eyes never straying from you." Ron said, running his fingers through his hair.
"Got your eye on Malfoy now Ron?" Hermione retorted with a smirk very much resembling their nemesis.
"No!" Ron's shout echoing off the high ceiling. "He's not the one I've got my eye on." He muttered, blushing to the roots of his flaming red hair. "I've got to go---Divination." And he scurried away from them, ears burning.
"You shouldn't do that to him, Herm." Harry scolded, trying desperately to repress his grin and failing.
"Oh, I know," Hermione blushed, taking no notice of her nickname. "Look, I have to get to Arithmacy, we'll talk later?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Hermione's eyes darted over his shoulder again. "I think Professor Figg wants to speak with you." She mumbled under her breath as she nudged past him, nodding to the Defense Professor as she made her way to the Arithmacy classroom in the East Wing.
"That was quite a display Potter." Figg said softly, her words carrying across the distance nonetheless.
"So I've come to gather." Harry replied, making no move towards her.
"That was quite a Patronus." He didn't reply. "How'd you manage that?"
"Focus." He found himself answering before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue.
"Did you want to answer that?"
"No." He answered honestly.
"Then don't next time." She turned back to her classroom as the bell rang once more. "You're late Mr Potter. Good day." And she was gone.
"Spite!" He cursed, taking off down the corridor.
Harry dashed through passageway after passageway finally reaching the Charms hallway. //Only a corridor and a tower away.// He paused, sucked in a great gust of air and increased his speed tenfold only to have his breath completely knocked out of him as an arm shot out of the shadows of his Charms classroom and clamped over his mouth. His scream was muffled as a body slammed into his back and dragged him backwards into the room. The door smashed in front of him and a locking spell was hissed at the lock.
"Promise not to scream and I'll let you go." A deep, vaguely familiar, voice muttered in his ear. Taking no heed of the voice he clamped his teeth into the warm flesh covering his mouth. The hand immediately let go of him. Harry spun on the spot, pulling his wand on the boy.
It was Terrence Higgs. Slytherin's reserve Seeker.
"Damn-it Potter!" The handsome sixth year yelped, holding his injured right hand with his left---no wand in sight. "I'm bleeding. What'd you do that for?"
"What'd you attack me for?" Harry returned, wand still trained on the Slytherin. Higgs didn't really seem in any rush to answer though. He brought his right palm to his mouth and sucked at the blood before pulling an old piece of white linen, with a delicate black embroidered TH, from his back pocket, securing it tightly around his palm.
"Put that away Potter." He addressed Harry finally, walking past him and knocking at his hand before casting a Silencing Charm on the door. "I'm not here to fight you." Harry pocketed his wand, though not without some very obvious trepidation.
"What'd you attack me in the corridor for then?" He repeated.
"I didn't attack you Potter. I would have used a curse or a Stunning Spell if I wanted to attack you."
"Get on with it Higgs, I'm already late for class as it is."
"Divination, right?" Harry nodded, confusion spreading like the Black Plague over his features. "Yeah, and I bet you're terribly disappointed that you're missing so much of it."
"Why do you know my timetable?"
"We all have your course table memorised. And Quidditch practices, library study sessions---"
"All of whom exactly?"
"All the children of the Dark Lord's followers." In the second it took Harry to whip out his wand, Stunning Spell on his lips, Terrence Higgs' wand had slid out of his sleeve, disarmed him, and casually pocketed Harry's wand. Harry had never seen ANYONE move so quickly in his entire life.
"I _told _ you Potter, I'm not here to fight," and seeing the perplexed look that flashed though Harry's eyes he added: "And I'm not about to turn you over to the Dark Lord, worry not."
He waved his hand idly in his direction and crossed to one of the long rows of desks and perched gracefully atop them.
"Give me my wand back." Harry growled, not yet ready to trust the Slytherin.
"Tut, tut, tut," he twitched his finger at the youth. "Not so fast."
"Don't patronise me Higgs."
"Okay, will you hear me out?" He nodded.
"I'm late---"
"---for class. Yeah, yeah, I know."
"If you know so much then why don't you explain why you hauled me in here? I'm not going to drag it out of you."
"Why so touchy Potter?" Terrence said, ignoring Harry's persistence.
Harry said nothing; not wanting to admit out loud why he was upset; he should have know he was there---was going to jump out at him. Professor Figg had told him that, eventually, he would start picking up on the smallest of details. //Why didn't I hear him? He's a big guy, I should have heard him.// He blamed himself.
//Yeah, but he is thin,// his rational side argued back. //And a seeker, and has probably had loads of Dart Arts training.//
"Not going to answer, eh?" Higgs shrugged, interrupting Harry's inner repartee. "Oh well."
"Higgs . . ." Harry growled, and not for the last time.
"Touchy, touchy," He hopped off the desk and approached the smaller Gryffindor. "I have a proposal for you Potter---"
"Not marriage I hope. Because I'd have to turn you down."
"Oh darn, and here I was looking forward to playing mummy to all your Gryffindor spawn."
"Sorry to disappoint you." He crossed his arms defiantly.
"Again, I'd like to make a deal with you Potter."
"What sort?"
"Well, let's put it this way, I've grown sick of the Dark Lord."
"What?" His arms dropped to his sides as his eyes widened and his mouth nearly fell to the floor.
"I. . .HATE. . .my . . .job." Higgs explained carefully, as if he were speaking with a small child.
"And. . ." Harry let his question hang as he gathered his composure.
"And," he took a deep breath, for the very first time showing his nerves. "I'm converting."
---
"Harry! Where were you?" Ron hissed at him when he collapsed into jis Divination armchair, well over an hour late and completely ignoring the bewildered looks his classmates and their insect of an instructor were shooting him. "I know I left you with Hermione," a slight blush crept into his cheeks. "But you couldn't have been there with her too much longer. She'd _never_ risk being late for Arithmacy. Trelawney was going on and on about you being mauled by rampaging dragons. I didn't believe her for a second though, of course---"
"Breathe Ron," Harry muttered as the bell signaling the end of the class sounded and the two boys dashed to the trap door and slid down the silver ladder. "I'll telll you all about it later. We need to see Dumbledore tonight. Eleven pm." Ron nodded
---
Chris made her way slowly through the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons. She let loose an almighty yawn and stretched her arms over her head. She paused halfway down the damp, musty corridor to Serverus' office and pulled at the tie holding her hair from her face. She shook out the dark tangly mane and rolled down the billowing burgundy sleeves of one of Mat's giant, old tunics (its ragged cuffs hanging well past her finger tips). She yawned again and was about to continue on her way when she caught a snatch of deep, low song floating down the dank corridor:
"Here's to the night we felt alive . . ." she followed the voice around the corner, slowly gaining volume. ". . .Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry. Here's to goodbye . . ." she found the classroom the voice was emanating from. ". . . tomorrow's going to come too soon . . ."
"Fred?" She stuck her head into the classroom.
". . . tomorrow's going to come too soon . . ." Fred finished softly to himself as he scrubbed at a particularly nasty spot of frog goo on the flagstone.
"Fred?"
"Wh---!?" He nearly jumped out of his trousers as he leapt to his feet, catching sight of the dragon girl.
"Hey." She said softly, slipping through the door and shutting it soundlessly behind her.
"God, you scared me." He sighed, wiping off his sweaty brow with a small clean portion of the rag and leaning against one of the already spotless desks.
"I noticed." She took a hesitant step towards him.
"Why're you down here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"Detention."
"I have a meeting with Snape."
"Too bad."
"He's not too bad."
"To each his own."
"What'd you have detention for?"
"_Someone_ stuffed a couple of dead toads full of fireworks and chucked them under the Slytherin cauldrons. Caused quite a bit of a mess apparently."
"That's wonderful. Do you knew who did it?" An impish grin spreading across her face as she made her way progressively closer to him.
"Had to have been someone _incredibly_ smart. . ."
"Absolutely."
"And handsome. . ."
"Of course."
"And an utter genius."
"Must've been George."
"Hey!" He punched her playfully in the arm as she stopped half a metre away from him.
"Hot?" She said out of the blue.
"What?"
"Were you hot?" She nodded at his discarded school robes thrown indolently over Professor Snape's desk. "No robes. . ." she ran her finger down the centre of his chest. ". . .no jumper. . ." she took the tie between her thumb and forefinger, sliding down the length of scarlet and gold ". . .loose tie. . ." her fingers trailed over his Quidditch hardened biceps to his bunched sleeves. ". . .rolled cuffs. Were you warm?"
"A bit." He choked out, his voice husky.
"I do like this colour on you." She stroked his green toned face lightly---fingers just grazing his cheek. She mussed his green sweat drenched hair. "Even if you DO smell a little gross." She gave a light laugh as Fred pulled her roughly into his arms. "Eager, are we?" She pulled back slightly. "How do you even know I _want_ to kiss you?" She laughed again, it was light and airy and full of passion. Fred brought his mouth to hers for a third time, gently at first but then with enough force to bruise her lips. Her arms locked behind his neck, her fingers twining in his short spikes. They stumbled, knocking Fred backwards onto the aforementioned desk---the lithe girl landing atop him and knocking the air from his lungs.
But he didn't care. He felt the weight of her all along his body, pressing him into the ink wells and stray books littering the desktops, a constant, never ceasing pressure all along his chest and legs as everything he'd ever felt for the worm girl built like a tornado in his head; magic roaring through his ears as all of the blood in his body sped around in his veins, felt himself being crushed, burned, annihilated---and he wanted it, wanted to disappear entirely into this sensation and forget everything else.
He had been kissed before, but not like this; he had kissed her before, but not like this. Before her feelings had never matched his, it had always been him kissing her. Even their last kiss, in the hospital wing, he had sensed her reluctance, her unwavering knowledge of how wrong it was. But now . . . now her emotion matched his, all his desire, hope, adore and confusion mirrored in her own; it was her body pinning him to the desktop, her hands tightening on the cloth of his shirt, yanking it up so violently that some of the buttons popped off. "Hey." He said in mild indignation, when she smiled he felt it against his mouth.
She slid one of her hands inside the open shirt while the other yanked his tie over his head---momentarily separating the two youths. Fred's mouth clamped onto her neck, finding the pulse point that made her shudder against him. He felt her long, cold, rough fingers running up and down his chest and sides. His heart was trying to bang its way out of his ribcage and he couldn't get enough air, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was her, the feel of her and the taste of her skin and mouth. She was kissing him so hard he could taste blood too but that didn't matter either.
Chris crouched on her knees over his legs and pulled Fred up by his collar so they were sitting on the desks facing one another. He was never going to be able to sit in Potions anymore without getting turned on. "Fred," She panted out. "Fred, other side."
"Huh?" He pulled away, momentarily distracted as she ripped his shirt from him.
"Other side, Fred," she moved his mouth to the other side of her neck and attacked. "You can't mark me." She let the smallest of moans escape her lips as she locked her scantly clad legs around his waist. Fred's hips bucked at the contact and he wrenched the too large tunic off her shoulders, exposing her elegant, however scared, collar bone.
"Bloody fuck." She muttered, biting slightly into his muscular, passion flushed shoulder.
"What?" He mumbled stupidly, sliding his hands beneath the back of her top, the fact that she was only wearing a tight wrap-'round shirt beneath it hitting him like a freight train.
"I have to go." She pushed at him softly.
"Huh?" He detached his mouth and let his hands snake around beneath the front of her shirt.
"I have a meeting. . .I'm late." Her entire body let loose an uncharacteristically violent shudder completely betraying her words.
"Mmmm." He murmured, dragging his tongue along the lines of her shoulders.
"I . . . I have to go." She pushed herself away from the Gryffindor, pulled her tunic back over her shoulders and ran a deeply blood pitted hand through her haphazard locks.
"Where are you going?" Fred questioned, finding himself at a complete loss---her mirth-filled laugh didn't help any.
"I have to meet someone, remember?"
"No!" Fred was so frustrated she could almost see a red tinge breaking through the vibrant green.
"Snape, Mat and I have a meeting with him."
"Nooo!" He groaned, flopping backwards and looking as if he were about to explode right there on the desktop, which he probably was. She crossed back to him, pulling him back into a sitting position and placing a soft kiss on his cheek before Fred captured her lips again in a vain attempt at re-engaging her. She grazed an agonisingly tantalising hand down his chest.
"Another time," she laughed softly. "Another time." And she left Fred to talk himself down.
---
"Acid-pop." Hermione supplied as the gargoyle revealed the entrance for the trio. "He's expecting us?" She asked Harry.
"I don't know, Higgs supposedly set this up." He muttered under his breath.
"You're sure this is not a trap? He IS a Slytherin."
"No, I'm not sure."
"Wands out, I'd say." Hermione said softly. The two nodded and slid their wands out of their pockets. They reached the top of the rotating staircase and Harry knocked softly on the aged door.
"Come in, Hullo Harry, Ron, Hermione," Dumbledore greeted them. "Have a seat." He motioned to a couch along the far wall; the three seated themselves and hid away their wands without any notice. "The rest will be joining us shortly."
"Rest?" Harry asked.
"You'll be sitting in on a small meeting."
"For the Order, sir?" Hermione perked up.
"Yes, m'dear."
"Why are we here then?"
"That's why I asked you to come earlier then everyone else. The three of you have come to be some of the most prominent names in the wizarding world---and not just because of your connections to Mr Potter."
"How so?"
"Well, Hermione, the Ministry has had their eyes on you for quite some time."
"Why?" She asked, sitting up straighter next to Ron.
"First it was due to your close relationship with Harry, then your marks, and they found out how you got past Professor Snape's potion challenge in your first year here---and they've had your magical career planned out for you since."
"What?!"
"And Ron," he continued with the slightest of smiles. "Your family's quite well known in the magical community."
"We are?" The cracking of Ron's voice throwing Harry off of the idea that the conversation seemed just a tadtoo well rehearsed.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes you are. Your family used to have a lot of say in the way things were run."
"Used."
"Your father has become rather unpopular since the end of last year due to the unfortunate happenings at the finale of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
"Yes."
"All of Ron's family have joined the Order, even our young Mr Weasley. Go on." Ron nodded and unbuckled his watch strap. He turned over his left hand and showed Harry and Hermione. On the inside if his wrist, parallel to the heel of his palm, was the smallest of feather tattoos. The red-orange of the inch long mark was the exact shade of the freckles scattered all over the red-head's body.
"What does this mean?" Hermione said softly, her delicate fingers brushing over the tattoo.
"It's so the members of the Order of the Phoenix can identify one another.
"Is it used to summon?" Harry asked. "Like the Dark mark?"
"Yes but only in the most dire situations---" He was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. The knocker didn't wait for permission to enter before barging in.
"`Lo Dumbledore," It was Alastor Moody closely followed by a small heard of wizards and witches; Mr & Mrs Weasley, Fred and George, Chris, Mat, Timothy, Adam and Eddie Jameson, Professors Snape and Figg, Terrence Higgs, and finally a tall, dark man wearing a short traveling cloak and, what appeared to be, a black tunic and trousers of the same sort their substitutes had the habit of wearing.
"I'm sorry to do this but, Mr Higgs?" Dumbledore waved over the scarlet and gold Slytherin. Higgs nodded smartly and crossed behind the Headmaster's desk. He knelt facing away from the standing wizard and bent his chin to his chest.
"What are y---?" Harry began.
"Wait Harry." Ron hissed.
Dumbledore peeled back the collar of his black ribbed mock-turtleneck and placed the tip of his wand at its base, where his spine bulged as it ran into his neck. The moment the wand touched his skin his entire body convulsed as if he'd been electrocuted. The wand left his neck and Higgs stood and came over to the couch holding the three fifth years. Ron held out his wrist for the Slytherin. Higgs' eyes clouded over as he analysed the feather tattoo. He nodded and moved to the next wizard, each revealing their Phoenix mark as he came to them---Mr Weasley, right ankle---inside, Fred, bottom of his left foot, George, his right, followed by Chris, Mat, Timothy, Adam, Eddie (Mat's twin) sporting his on the inside of his left thumb, Professor Snape, the inside of his bottom lip, Figg, the base of her back, and Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody, the top of his left hand---all received nods of verification. When Higgs finally reached the one occupant of the room Harry couldn't identify the man took down the hood of his travelling cloak to reveal a strong, square-featured man with sharp, blue/black eyes all situated beneath a mop of short dark hair. He showed the cloudy-eyed Slytherin the palm of his left hand. Satisfied, Higgs nodded, crossed back to the Headmaster and knelt before him as the aforementioned procedure was once again administered.
"I don't like having to check my loyalties every time we gather, but considering previous transgressions against myself and this school, it is a caution I deem necessary." Professor Dumbledore explained.
"We all understand Albus, no need to apologise every time you call us together." Moody grumbled, seating himself in one of the chairs facing his desk.
"Yes, well our ties with one another must be closer then ever," Harry could have sworn he saw Fred's eyes dart to their female substitute, but Chris took no notice of the look and remained immobile beside her siblings, hands clasped behind her back. "And I take no comfort in distrusting those whom I place my all my faith in."
"Nor do I," Moody commented, eliciting the smallest of chuckles from Professor Figg. "But faith is a fickle thing, Albus, a fickle thing. But down to business! You told the whole school of the Bulgarian attack, I presume?"
"They need to know, to try and understand what is happening to their world."
"Aye, that it be," Mad-eye said gruffly. "But what happened? How did the Death Eaters kill that great gangly beast?"
"A Chinease Fireball." Tim Jameson offered.
"A dragon?" Mr Weasley asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Yes, two of them actually, they've begun training their own." Adam helped out from beside his brother. "Only the largest, most vicious feral worms suffice."
"And who would train a thing like that?" Molly Weasley asked, aghast.
"We did, for some time actually."
"You trained dragons for You-Know-Who?"
"No, the feral Fireballs, Ridgebacks, Greens, even the occasional Hungarian Horntail."
"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Did you say Ridgeback? As in Norwegian Ridgeback?"
"Yes, why?"
"Nothing, I just knew one once." He said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. No-one questioned him further but he saw the shadow of a smile cross the Headmaster's face.
"Well anyway, we've got two Fireballs, an Eagle-Eye, nine Welsh Greens---"
"They seem to be the tamest and most easily trained of them all." Eddie interrupted his brother.
"---four Sypros, six Hydro Chems, and a Ridgeback who's just finishing his training and should be able to hold a station at Hogsmeade sometime after Christmas." Adam finished.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, folding his hands across his desk. "And we have someone lined up for the position? We need two in Hogsmeade, preferably someone with prior knowledge of the terrain."
"Possibly," Eddie supplied. "He's playing Quidditch right now, but he'll take the job. Just give'em some time."
"All the riders are athletes." Chris spoke up for the first time upon entering the office. "And most Quidditch. I think we've got one who's into Quadpot . . ."
"Yeah, Nathan Andrews, Charlie Weasley's mate." Mat said.
"And most are either Keepers or Seekers, the creame of the crop. And all are young---none older than twenty-five."
"They're trained in military tactics?" Dumbledore asked.
"They've all had, at least, basic training. Our top rider is---"
"Was." Mat corrected.
"Was a Level-Five Archangel. But he dropped out, preferring to fight with you rather then the Ministry. With how corrupt it's become of late I don't blame him."
"Charles Wallace?" Dumbledore inquired, riffling though the papers on his desk for his file.
"Yes sir, he's just seventeen last month, I believe."
"And he was a Level-Five Archangel? At sixteen?" Mr Weasley said skeptically.
"One of their youngest to date."
"And you've been through this type of training also?"
"Arthur," Dumbledore said softly. "He's not the only one who's had all of his schooling compacted." His sharp blue eyes darted to the Jameson children present. "Am I right in presuming you've all finished the required seven years of schooling by age fourteen?" They all nodded. "And what sort of military training have you received?"
"I've had half-a-year of basic M.o.M. training, all of us have, followed by two years of Auror training, a year of field experience, and I was a Seven-Minute Man for four months before coming here." Timothy replied.
"I made it to Level-Two Archangel." Adam said.
"Basic Auror training and field work." Eddie said. "Mat too."
"Basic, field work, and half-a-year in the States for flight training." Chris finished.
"So they're all trained, what's your point?" Mad-eye complained. "Wonderful, why was Voldemort able to destroy that Gringotts so easily if they're so highly qualified?"
"Dark magic?" Hermione said softly from the side of the room.
"Obviously." Snape snipped, Hermione closed her mouth and sank deeper into the couch next to Ron. He touched her arm for a moment before drawing his hand back quickly, realising what he had done and blushing.
"Yes Hermione, dark magic." Dumbledore smiled fondly at her, causing her to brighten slightly. "It was an attack, the fifth attack since the end of last year. The first four were all on Muggles equidistance from Harry's aunt and uncle's residence." His eyes fell on Harry at this point. "Twelve Muggle killings thus far---all unpublished and hushed over by the Ministry. This attack on the Bulgarian Gringotts has been made known to the public. _Thirty-seven_ wizard deaths and over a hundred goblins."
"And what of the two dragon riders?" Mad-Eye grumbled.
"Both gone. The dragon that made it back to us is much like a homing pigeon. We were lucky with this one---they've stopped being trained in that manner, too easily traced." Tim said.
"And how do you know it wasn't followed?"
"Don't you think something would have happened by now if it was?" Tim snapped, His dark gray eyes flashing heatedly at the crippled old man.
"Possibly, but you have this school protected, Dumbledore? Are the students safe? That's everyone's number one priority."
"This school is protected in more ways than even I know, or understand for that matter." Dumbledore said.
"We've thought that in the past, Albus, and we've all seen how well that's turned out. Your school was invaded by an imposter and a boy was killed just last year!"
"The imposter only even made it into this school due to your inability to defend your own home, Alastor." Snape drawled quietly.
"I _know_ what has happened in the past," Dumbledore broke in before the inevitable rude exchange had a chance to take place. "But we have taken every conceivable precaution available."
"Do you have dragons guarding this place too then?" Mad-Eye asked, his blue eye glaring at Snape while his brown focused on the herd of Jameson's.
"Yes," Tim said. "Steve and Tom are out there now. Brian and Brad have the day shift tomorrow. Adam, Eddie and I have tomorrow during the day; Steve and Tom take nearly every night. Chris and Mat don't take the watch ever due to the terrors of teaching." He shot his youngest siblings the smallest of smiles, the first time he'd seen him do so in the short time he'd known him. "Although, I don't think Mat actually does that much." Harry could hear Mat's knuckles crack as he clenched his fists.
"Well then, seeing as it is quite late, and some of you have classes tomorrow," Dumbledore said, his eyes travelling over the five Gryffindors and the Slytherin. "Mister Higgs, you know what you need to do?" He nodded. "Then make sure you make the proper arrangements. You may go."
"Yes, sir." And he left the room.
"Fred, George? Keep your eyes open, as of now you are my only connection at the student level---they keep far too much from their Professors. Report what you deem relevant." They nodded and exited the office.
"Harry, Hermione?"
"Yes?" Hermione replied.
"I need you to pay close attention to Ron. He knows a lot more than he lets on, even to his best friends. Listen to what he has to say and do what he needs you to do. If you have any questions at all about anything he tries to teach you or information he passes along, feel free to come to me about it. I'll always be here."
"Yes, Professor."
"Come-on." Ron pulled on the arm of Harry's robes.
"Wait, Headmaster?" Harry said, coming to his feet. "Do you think you could do something 'bout this?" He held out his green and silver arm. "Preferably for all of us? Haven't we suffered enough?" He smiled half-heartedly.
"Of course." He said, his face breaking into its usual wrinkled grin. With an almost casual wave of his wand the green evaporated from his skin---leaving him seemingly paler than before.
"Thanks." Harry sighed, glad to finally be back to normal, well, as normal as one could be when they were Harry Potter. He allowed Ron and Hermione to drag him from the tower office
---
"Hey look!" George said, holding out his arm for his brother's inspection. "We're normal coloured again! Well as normal as we ever are at least."
"George," Fred said, stopping half-way down the corridor from Dumbledore's office and taking next to no notice of their sudden lack of Slytherin colours. "I want to---"
"---wait for Chris." George finished.
"Yeah, I'll meet you at Gryffindor tower later."
"Try not to be _too_ long, I do need my beauty rest." George said in a high, girlish voice, pretending to flip his hair over his shoulder
"I won't." He made to turn away.
"And Fred?" He grabbed his arm.
"Yeah?"
"You need to do something 'bout Angelina. She really likes you."
"I know."
"Break up with her then!"
"And how should I go 'bout doing that?"
"Well, I know, for a fact, that Rupert Balin, the new Hufflepuff Seeker, fancies the pants off her."
"Really?"
"Yeah, and if you talk to him I bet you can get him to make a move on it. 'Specially if you're not paying any attention to her. Then you might even get lucky and she'll break up with you!"
"Good, I'll do that. See you tomorrow."
"Bye."
Fred slunk into the shadows next to a large statue of Nathan the Numbskull holding a map upside-down and scratching his head.
"Did you get all that?" Ron asked softly as they got off of the moving staircase and the gargoyle leapt back into place.
"What is you are supposed to teach me?" Harry asked, running his fingers though his hair as he had a habit of doing when he was upset and stressed about something.
"A lot." Ron answered, trying to see what his friend was thinking in the dark of the corridor.
"And between the end of last year and the beginning of this one, when did you have the time to learn it all?"
"Over the summer. While you were having an absolutely smashing time with your lovely relatives, I was studying! And you _know_ how much I love that."
"When do we start?"
"Well, now I sus. . ." Fred didn't catch the end of Ron's sentence as they drifted further and further down the corridor.
"Who else have we got for Hogsmeade?" Chris asked as she and her four brothers appeared from behind the gargoyle.
"We're recruiting students here starting after Christmas," Tim said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Hopefully we'll get some of the Quidditch players."
"Shush." Mat held up his hand to halt his siblings. Even in the dark of the corridor the five highly trained wizards could sense someone lurking in the shadows near the statue beside them. "Who's there?"
"Fred came slowly out of the shadows, hands behind his head. "It's just me, worry not."
"Weasley!" Mat groaned, pocketing his wand, his siblings following suit.
"You shouldn't be lurking." Chris reprimanded.
"Sorry, I just wanted a word with you---'bout today's class." He lied quickly.
"Alright," she nodded for her brothers to go, almost all departing immediately. "I'll be fine, Mat. Really."
"See you tomorrow." He said, letting loose the smallest of smiles at his sister before sending a warning glare at Fred. "Weasley."
"Professor Jameson." Fred said, watching Mat slip into a stone passageway between a suit of armour and a portrait of a decrepit old wizard snoozing against his frame.
"Is it just me, or is your brother a bit edgy?"
"He's---we've---been through a lot together. And after what happened to our mum. . ." She trailed off, turning away from the Weasley and hugging her arms to her chest.
"Chris, what happened?" He approached her cautiously from behind and gently caressed her shoulders.
"Come-on, let's go to my room." Fred had had no idea what to expect when he'd posed the question but it definitely wasn't that.
"Okay."
She laughed.
"Will you tell me later then?"
"Yes, but not here."
"And why you were in Dumbledore's office just now?"
"Everything, Fred. I promise."
"Just one more thing."
"Yes?" She turned back to him.
"Can I. . ." he trailed off, feeling like he was eleven again and trying in vain to court Angelina for the first time. "Can I hold your hand?" He ducked his head as he blushed to the roots of his hair and the tips of his ears.
She laughed again and touched his face lightly, bringing his eyes back to her own. "Of course." She slid her hand into his and let her lips brush against his before murmuring in his ear. "Come on."
---
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A/N: Wooo! This is my longest chapter ever!!! Seventeen Pages!!!!! As usual, Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated!!!!!!! A special note to Baby Bumblebee: It follows the summary, worry not! I'm almost there! (And the snog session was inspired by Cassandra Claire's wonderful works! Everyone should read her stuff!!! And the song Fred sings isn't mine, it belongs to whomever it belongs to, I don't have the name with me and I'm far to lazy to look it up at the moment!) Oh, yeah, and the name 'Charles Wallace' is taken from 'A Wrinkle in Time', a wonderful book everyone should read, and worry not, it's not the beginning of a cross-over story---I just love the character and wanted to borrow his name for my own use.