* * *

"Alright, now that everyone's here – any 5th, 6th or 7th years who think they are capable of representing Gryffindor as our Defense Representative, please stand so we can take down your name." Angelina Johnson's voice was loud so she could be heard over the quiet whispers and murmurs that went through the room, though they quickly quieted when no one stood up.

"No one thinks they're capable of the task? No Gryffindors?!" Angelina was obviously shocked.

"It isn't that, actually." Neville Longbottom spoke quietly, hesitantly – as if he wasn't certain of his reception. "It's just – well – we all know that it's got to be Harry."

Several nods and murmurs of agreement followed Neville's words, and he smiled a little and relaxed as Angelina frowned a bit. "No one else even wants to try? And where is Harry, anyway? And Ron, and Hermione?"

"They are with Professor Dumbledore, if I'm not mistaken." Ginny's voice was calm and composed.

"Well, we need them here! We can't vote without them! The vote wouldn't be official!" Angelina looked frustrated.

Ginny just smiled and glanced around a moment, then spoke quietly. "Just for a reference – and mind you, this isn't the real vote – who thinks Harry should be Gryffindor's Defense Representative?"

Every single student in the room – including the first years – raised their hand. Even Angelina had her own lifted. A few of the paintings on the walls were raising theirs as well.

Ginny smiled once more, lifting a brow in Angelina's direction. "You were saying?"

"I know you have a point, Ginny, it's just – aren't there other people who want to have a chance at this? It shouldn't go to Harry just because....because he..." She trailed off lamely.

"...Just because he's faced Voldemort more than once, and lived to tell the tale? Just because he trained quite a few other students and thus rendered them capable of fighting against Death Eaters on their own? Just because he is widely known as the Gryffindor Champion, and we would all look like fools if we didn't choose him?" Again, Neville spoke up, surprising the room with his heretofore nonexistant confidence.

"Well, all those things may be true, but we all deserve the same chance."

"Angelina, we all have it. We can all be part of the D.A. that is forming. It's just – it's like Quidditch. Would you accept being made Seeker by popular vote because it was fair, knowing that you'd never be better than Harry?" Ginny's voice was quiet but firm.

Angelina seemed to falter. Finally she sighed softly and smiled at the rest of the room. "If you're all certain. No one else wishes to be considered?"

The room was entirely silent for a full minute. "Alright, then. I can't say that I don't agree with the rest of you. There are ballots on the table. Fill them out and stick them in the vase near the door before you go to bed, please. And," she added on tactfully. "Welcome back, to Hogwarts, everyone."

* * *

The door to Dumbledore's office closed behind them, and Ron released a breath of air, rubbing his forehead distractedly. Hermione just stopped and stared out the nearest window, her fingers tapping absentmindedly against her thigh, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Harry slide his hand through his hair, causing a few more strands to stand on end. Hermione glanced over at the movement, and her rather severe expression softened, her brown eyes wide and wary.

"You okay, Harry?"

Harry thought about her words for a moment, then shook his head and lifted his shoulders in a weary shrug. "No, Hermione. I don't really think that I am."

"'Course he isn't, Hermione. Would you be, if Dumbledore had just told you that-"Ron's indignant voice silenced quickly when Harry closed his eyes, sliding both hands into his hair and gripping tightly for just a moment.

"Don't! Please, Ron...I don't... I can't hear it again." Ron glanced away, unable to watch his friend's face as he worked to calm himself down again. Hermione moved closer to Harry, tenatively lifting a hand and settling it against his nape. When he didn't protest, she began to rub, her fingers pressing firmly against the tight muscles at the base of his neck. Harry closed his eyes and released a pent-up breath, his head tilting forward to silently encourage the massage. For a few minutes, they remained utterly quiet, although Ron's hands began to tighten into fists. Finally, Harry lifted his head and stepped away, his arms folding over his chest as he turned around to face the both of them. Ron relaxed a little, worry returning to his expression as he took note of the stress lining Harry's face. Hermione just watched and waited, allowing Harry to make the next move.

"I think that-"Ron interrupted Harry rather quickly, stepping forward and lowering his voice.

"Harry, perhaps not in the hallway?" Harry flushed a bit, glancing around quickly. He'd forgotten that they weren't alone. Hermione colored as well – it wasn't like her to not be the first to point such a thing out.

Ron shook his head at both of them, then gestured lightly for them to follow as he made his way to the Room of Requirement. The other two followed him into the room, and stopped immediately, eyes wide with astonishment. Hermione blushed deeply and averted her eyes, Harry started to grin, and Ron burst into laughter.

The room they'd used for D.A. practice last year was lit up by perhaps fifty candles. A leopard-skin rug covered the hearth, and electric red flames vibrated enticingly from the fireplace. In the back corner of the room, two figures dressed in rather skimpy bathing wear had their arms wrapped about each other in a realistic-looking hot spring. At Ron's laughter, the two jumped apart, and the girl cried out in mortification.

Ernie Macmillan swore loudly and quickly reached over, grabbing a towel and handing it to the vaguely familiar looking girl. She snatched it from him and promptly turned her back to everyone, drying herself off frantically. Perhaps five, maybe six seconds passed before she grabbed her clothes and raced from the room, nearly bowling Hermione over in her haste.

As the door slammed behind the girl, Ron doubled over, chortling loudly. Even Harry chuckled, distracted for the moment from the dark discussion that had brought the trio to the room. Ernie jumped out of the water and dried himself off, glaring furiously at the lot of them.

"What is wrong with you, Weasley? I've been planning this all summer! I had to write to her every week to get her to trust me, and you ruined it. I'm going to strangle you! You too, Potter – I can't believe you didn't have the decency to get out when you saw that the room was OCCUPIED!" Ernie was livid as he struggled back into his robes, and when Ron began to guffaw upon hearing that Ernie'd had a cute little pen pale all summer, the Hufflepuff lost his temper and flung his wet towel at Ron's head.

Fortunately, Ron saw it coming and ducked. The wet cloth wrapped itself around Hermione's face, instead.

Everyone gasped and just stared as Hermione shrieked and jerked the offending cloth from her head. Ernie took one good look at the scholarly prefect's red face and began to snicker. "Her – Hermione... I'm r-really sorry..."

"Ernie, I am going to kill you!" She stalked forward, withdrawing her wand and pointing it in his direciton, ignoring for the moment that her two best friends were not doing a thing to help her.

Harry watched, laughing hysterically – which felt pretty good, as he hadn't been able to find many things funny as of late – as Hermione advanced on Ernie. Slowly it dawned on the Gryffindor that Hermione knew an awful lot of spells – potentially harmful ones. And she seemed angry enough to use them. He sobered a little and stepped forward. "Now... Hermione... it was an accident. Ernie didn't mean it."

The ticked off girl just threw a glare over her shoulder at Harry, then continued walking toward Ernie, who continued to fall back, palms held up in surrender. "Hermione, Harry's right! It... it was an accident! I didn't m-mean to!"

Hermione didn't relent, forcing Ernie back further. A comical look of shock crossed Macmillan's face as he took another step backward – and couldn't find the floor. A loud yelp preceeded the massive splash as Ernie fell, fully clothed, into the hot spring. With no small amount of satisfaction, Hermione put away her wand and rested her hands on her hips. Ernie surfaced, wiping water from his eyes – he was obviously stunned.

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that, Ernie. It was an accident!" Hermione's eyes were wide with insincere innocence, and Ron straightened, still laughing as he saw the look on her face.

"Damn, Ernie! Didn't you ever learn to beware a woman scorned?" Ron was beginning to have a difficult time breathing – he couldn't stop laughing.

Ernie glared up at Ron, then smirked and held out his hand. "Very funny, Weasley. Help me out."

Ever the good sport, Ron bent forward and grasped Ernie's hand – only to find himself tugged into the water with one swift movement.

Harry sat down, tears of hilarity running down his cheeks as Ron's gurgled yelp accompanied the loud splash he'd made. Hermione's lips twitched, and her anger drained rather quickly when her arrogant friend surfaced and immediately launched himself at Ernie, dunking him with the expertise borne of having four older brothers. An enthusiastic water fight ensued rather quickly, and she watched for a few minutes before seating herself next to Harry.

She nudged his shoulder lightly with her own. "You're awfully quiet, Harry. Thinking up a massive attack on both of them at once?"

Harry didn't bother glancing up, his amusement fading rather quickly. "Not them, no."

Hermione bit her lip, silently cursing her choice of words. "Harry, listen..."

"Hush, Hermione. I'm alright. Truly. And to be honest, I just don't want to talk about it right now." He glanced toward her and smiled – not because he felt like it, but because he didn't want her to push. Considering the penetrating look she gave him in return, he doubted he'd fooled her – but she backed off, nodding a little toward the two boys still cavorting around in the water.

"They certainly seem to be enjoying themselves." Amusement lurked in her tone, and Harry managed to find a genuine smile for her as he lifted one arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her against him.

"It's Ron, Hermione. It doesn't take much."

Mildly surprised by the familiar touch, though not at all uncomfortable with it, Hermione just smiled and closed her eyes. "Sometimes I wish I could be a bit more like him."

Harry looked down at her, slightly confused. "Like Ron? Tall, gangly and red-haired?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head, responding quietly. "Like Ron – friendly, brave and easy-going." Harry sighed softly at her words, pulling her closer for a moment and smiling.

"I like you just the way you are, Hermione Granger."

She grinned, leaning away from him just far enough that she could meet his gaze without getting a crick in her neck. "Of course you do! I'm quite unique!" Despite her boasting tone, the lack of modesty was a pretence, and Harry smiled.

"Oh, certainly."

She had no response to that, so she didn't try to make one, merely leaning quietly against him, feeling his chest move with each breath he took.

"Hermione... do you... do you think I ought to try?" To her credit, Hermione didn't overreact to the sudden change of topic. She'd been expecting it.

Moments passed as she considered her response, until she finally replied with soft sincerity, "I think that even if it doesn't turn out to be useful, you'd forever regret it if you didn't try it, Harry. It would eat you alive if things didn't go well and you didn't use every weapon in your arsenal to prevent it."

Harry didn't bother to take time thinking about her words; as usual, she'd just mirrored his own thoughts. He just didn't always trust his own thoughts anymore – it was good to have his opinions confirmed. But still...

"...What if it does the exact opposite? What if it does more harm than anything else?"

"Harry, who could it possibly harm?" She shifted in his embrace, scooting until she faced him directly, her back toward the two boys who were now occupied with trying to see who could do an underwater handstand the longest.

In the past he'd have just shrugged off the question, but he'd learned that keeping things bottled up resulted in very childish behavior – like destroying the Headmaster's office. "Me. What if I can't handle it?" As he spoke, his gaze focused unseeingly on the ceiling, but as he finished he lowered his eyes to her own. Brown eyes held green forcefully as she responded with complete honesty.

"Doing this would be the best thing for the school, and for the wizarding world, Harry. I'm not certain that it will be the best thing for you." She paused, then continued intently, "One is not more important than the other. You will be needed to end all this – I firmly believe that! So if you think that you can't handle it, then seriously weigh out the consequences. But it's ultimately your decision, Harry. You know that."

He just managed to stifle a bitter laugh at her remark – he knew she was unaware just how true her belief was. With a slight sigh he acknowledged her words, then glanced over toward the hot springs, where Ron was now glaring rather indignantly at him.

Chuckling lightly, Harry squeezed Hermione's shoulders before removing his arm and rising to his feet. "I'm going to go for a walk. Need a hand?"

Though she was troubled by his expression, Hermione decided to let him alone for a bit. She waved away his offer of help with a soft laugh. "I can get up perfectly well on my own, Harry. I'm certainly not helpless! Besides, I think I'm going to wait here until Ron gets out of the water. You and I both know that he's just waiting for us to get closer so he can get us sopping wet as well. And I have no intention whatsoever of returning to the dorms tonight looking like a drowned rat!"

Harry nodded distractedly, ruffled her hair lightly, then called out to Ron and Ernie before leaving the room.

When Ernie finally left the room and a dry Ron flopped down next to Hermione, she looked over at him rather sadly.

"So, have fun getting cozy with Harry?" Even Ron heard the edge of jealousy in his words, but Hermione decided to ignore them.

"I'm starting to wonder if Harry's going to survive this year, Ron."

"What?!" He sat up quickly; she had his full attention.

She shrugged briefly, staring at him anxiously. "Even Dumbledore is putting pressure on him. Now that everyone believes him, I think he's going to be tremendously burdened by the wizarding world's expectations. Plus... I'm fairly certain that there are things he hasn't told us."

Ron digested the words, then nodded a little. "I get that feeling, too. Do... do you think he'll be able to do what Dumbledore asked?"

Hermione nodded. "Honestly? I think Harry is capable of doing whatever he puts his mind to doing. It's just... I wonder if he's going to be able to think clearly enough to want to do everything they're going to demand of him."

"Well. We'll just have to watch him, make sure he doesn't overdo it."

"Yes... and we're also going to have to help him, Ron. I mean – it's not like Snape is going to give Harry a reprieve because of all the other things he'll be doing..."

Ron gasped in utter shock. "Hermione! Did... did I just hear you – Gryffindor Prefect Extraordinaire – suggest that we should help Harry cheat?!"

She flushed and glanced away, "It's just... well... he has so much else to do..."

He shook his head, still rather astonished. "Oh hell, Hermione, it's not like I disagree with you – nor is it that I have a problem doing it! I'm just... surprised that you suggested it."

Once again, Hermione shrugged, not looking at Ron as she replied quietly, "I'd do anything for Harry, Ron. Surely you know that by now."

He stiffened, then pushed himself abruptly to his feet. "Oh, yeah. I know it. Who doesn't?" Not really very good at hiding his emotions, Ron angrily gathered up his belongings and moved toward the door.

"I'm going back. You coming?"

Bewildered by his sudden mood change, Hermione nodded and pushed herself to her feet. The two walked all the way back to the common room without speaking, but every now and then one would discreetly eye the other with frustrated concern.

* * *

Harry stepped into the Prefect's room, taking a seat at a small round table. Hannah Abbott and Terry Boot smiled in his direction, offering greetings. The fourth seat was empty, to no one's surprise.

"Have a good summer?" Harry offered a smile as he set a rather large box on the table, leaving the lid closed.

Hannah grinned, "It certainly wasn't boring. My mum was all excited because I told her about what I learned with the D.A., so she started demonstrating some other useful techniques. I practiced with a stick – but now I'll be able to use my wand. If I can do them, I'll be able to teach everyone else."

Terry glanced at the girl with friendly skepticism. "Can you show us anything right now?"

Her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her wand, obviously flustered. "I... I haven't had a chance to practice, yet..."

The Ravenclaw just smiled, picking up her wand and holding it out to her. "It's okay if it doesn't work. I just want to see. Please?"

Hannah glanced at Harry rather uncertainly, and he nodded his assent. "You can do it, Hannah."

After a moment she nodded and took her wand, rising to her feet and looking at Terry with a mischevious smile. "Your idea, you're the target. Stand up, Terry."

Terry lofted a brow, then glanced at Harry with a grin as he pushed himself to his feet. "Women are so vindictive, eh, Harry?"

The Gryffindor laughed and folded his arms over his chest, watching as Hannah took a deep breath, then uttered a soft curse that smacked Terry right in the chest – and caused him to start performing rather enthusiastic jumping jacks, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Very – good, Hannah! ...You – can stop – it now!" Terry huffed out, until a giggling Hannah ended the spell.

Terry collapsed back in his seat and grinned up at the girl. "Now I know how to make sure I stay in shape!"

"You're a good sport, Terry."

"Oh, definitely. Keep in mind that payback's a bitch, eh, Hannah?" The words were flirtatious, and Hannah merely lifted a brow in acknowledgement of the challenge. Harry watched quietly, reflecting for just a moment how lucky they were to be able to relax like that, just for a few moments. To forget everything.

Moments later, the door opened and Draco sauntered inside, glancing down with a particularly nasty smile. "Haven't started, hmm? Lost without me? I expected as much from such worthless specimens. Your Houses haven't a clue what they're doing, really. Voting the three of you in. And Gryffindor's the worst! Potter, who says he's faced Voldemort lately, hasn't even managed to do anywhere near as much damage as he did when he was still in nappies! Some hero."

Hannah inhaled sharply, her hands fisting at her sides as she parted her lips to defend Harry, even as Terry jumped to his feet. "It's Slytherin who made the mistake, Malfoy! You –" Terry stopped speaking as Harry spoke, quietly and calmly.

"Ignore him, he just wants to irritate you. Sit down, and be quiet. Malfoy, you as well. I have something to show you all before we get started."

Draco narrowed his grey eyes, spitting out furiously "Listen here, Potter, if you think for one minute that I'm going to be taking direction from you –"

Harry stood up, his own gaze glittering with suppressed anger as his hands fisted at his sides, yet his voice remained utterly calm. "You doubt I've seen Voldemort? I'm going to show you what I've seen. So Sit. Down!"

Terry and Hannah looked at Harry in shock, and both quieted, waiting for Draco's next move. After a few tense seconds, the Slytherin Defense Representative joined the others at the table and sat down, his manner indolent.

"Think you can shock us, Potter? Well. Let's see you try."

The Gryffindor clenched his jaw, then raised his gaze to the ceiling, obviously struggling for control. Moments later he seemed to find it, and slowly his green eyes lowered to fixate intensely on Malfoy.

"Malfoy, your father is in these memories. Think you can handle that without throwing a temper tantrum?" The words were deliberately insulting, the gauntlet thrown. Harry didn't breathe as he waited to see if Draco would pick it up.

Slowly the young Slytherin straightened in his chair, and his silver eyes flashed derisively at the idealistic boy standing before him. Though Draco's cheeks were slightly flushed and his hands fisted beneath the table, no other visible sign of distress marred his features. But even Harry shivered when Malfoy finally responded – the words a hissed threat, dark and ominous and somehow believable – not because they were afraid of Draco, but because it was completely obvious that Harry had just dared to cross the one line that no Malfoy ever let pass unchallenged.

"Potter... You will regret this, I promise you." Not knowing how true those words were, Harry responded quietly, "Can you handle this?"

Draco stared at Harry, refusing to acknowledge the fear that began to squirm in his gut. It wasn't like Harry to back down from him, nor had he ever heard that pitying tone of voice directed toward him before. Potter obviously believed he had something, some knowledge, some way to defeat the Malfoys. While part of him didn't want to see, didn't want to know, the rest of him clearly understood that he had to have the information. Knowledge was power, and power was everything.

"Play your hand, Potter. You couldn't trump a Malfoy if your life depended on it." Purposely assuming a negligent pose, Draco turned his gaze from Harry to the Pensieve, which he easily recognized, as his father owned one.

Harry watched Draco another moment, and for a moment he recalled the uncertainty that had plagued him when he'd seen Snape's memory of James Potter. In that moment, that brief space of time between one breath and the next, Harry felt compassion for Draco Malfoy, and silently wished this wasn't necessary. But it was, and he knew it – and Draco was a Malfoy after all. The moment passed, and Harry nodded.

"This is a Pensieve, a memory-holder. I asked Professor Snape to make it for me." He'd done that on purpose – used Snape. Malfoy would be less likely to discount the memories if he knew that his most trusted teacher had created it. "When I have a memory that I want to save - so that I can remember it with perfect clarity later - then I place the memory in the Pensieve. I'm going to show you the two most recent memories I have of Voldemort, and what occurred just before them... so that you all know what we're up against.

"I'd ask that you don't share this with anyone. I... don't want to be answering questions from the entire school. But if we're going to do this, I think you need to truly know that Voldemort is back, and this is the best way I can think of to accomplish that." Harry spoke quietly, not looking at Draco, Hannah or Terry – but rather at the Pensieve, dread congealing in his stomach. He hated reliving this.

Hannah took a deep breath, then ventured softly, "Harry...are you certain? You don't need to show me this – I trust you. I believe he's back."

"I do too, Harry. I don't need to see this." Terry's words were firm, decisive. But Harry shook his head a little, though he didn't respond. He was flattered and honored by their words, but he wasn't really doing this for them. Malfoy had to see.

Without further explanation or warning, Harry touched the surface and brought up the memory of the moments just before he and Cedric Diggory had decided to take the Cup together.

* * *

"Everything is ready, I presume?" The cold, hard voice echoed just slightly in the cold hall. His companion nodded and shuddered, careful to look away from the owner of that demanding, fearful voice.

"Y – yes, Master. The proper authorities have been bribed or ... otherwise taken care of. Also, Unplottable dwellings have been made available in various areas of the city and the countryside, should one of the many be discovered."

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully, idly stroking his chin for a moment before he spoke quietly. He wasn't actually addressing his subject, but thinking aloud. "The boy should be more accessible to me, now – but he isn't. His mind is strengthened. I am not pleased of this; Snape was supposed to see to it that the boy didn't learn Occlumency enough to be able to prevent me from having access. He swore to me that he'd taken care of it! Wormtail!" A large fist slammed against a rotted wooden table, sending the small cardboard box lying atop it crashing to the floor.

Wormtail jumped back, eyes wide with fright. "I'm r-right here, Master...!"

"Set things in motion. And get in contact with Severus – he seems to have forgotten what he was supposed to be doing for me!"

"Yes, Master, right away!" The worthless whelp that had once been James and Lily Potter's good friend scurried off, and as he disappeared, his master smiled rather maliciously.

"Things are proceeding quite well. Quite well, indeed..."

* * *

The last image of Voldemort's face on the night he had appeared in the Ministry of Magic began to fade, and Hannah Abbott immediately looked at Harry, her blue eyes swimming with tears. He offered her a slight, comforting smile, then returned his gaze to Malfoy.

Harry had been watching Draco for the entire two hours – through both the night Cedric died and the evening spent in the Department of Mysteries – and only once had he seen a flicker of emotion on Draco's face. That emotion had been pride.

It was gone now. Malfoy's face was completely devoid of expression, and his gaze remained fixed on the pensieve, although Harry knew very well that Draco was aware of his gaze, and was intentionally avoiding it. Terry seemed quite aware of the undercurrents sifting between the two boys, and after a few moments' indecision, he merely leaned back in his chair, saying nothing. Hannah parted her lips to speak again, glancing back and forth between Harry and Draco, uncomfortable with their silence. Seeing her movement, Terry reached forward quickly and lightly grasped her wrist, shaking his head in silent command to remain quiet when she looked over at him. With a slight sigh of bewilderment, Hannah shrugged and closed her mouth, her gaze darting back and forth between the two rivals repeatedly.

Time passed slowly, but no one moved until finally, Malfoy shifted. His jaw set, he lifted his gaze from the pensieve and focused in Potter's direction. Having prepared himself for anything, Harry was nonetheless shocked by the sheer intensity of hatred that seemed to radiate from the youngest Malfoy.

"You're such an idealistic fool, Potter. I assume you thought that when you showed me my father's humiliating capture, I'd be embarrassed? Humiliated?" Draco cut off Harry's surprised protest, pushing himself forcefully to his feet, towering over the Boy Who Lived. "I have news for you, Potter. I'm neither. In fact, the only thing that has changed is that I now pity you more than I believe I had before – my father went easy on you and still you had to be rescued. You're bloody useless as a wizard, Potter – and I'm fairly certain that you know it. Soon, the entire school will as well." Draco turned on his heel, heading for the door. Harry stared after him, trying to think of something to say – but shame had colored his cheeks, and his lashes lowered, concealing his gaze from view. He couldn't fight the demons inside him that screamed that Malfoy was right.

Abruptly, Draco stopped and looked back over his shoulder, and Harry straightened, his chin lifting as he stared back defiantly, fighting for calm. "There's just one more thing, Potter. Should I hear that one thought of speaking ill of my family has crossed your mind, I will destroy you." With that, Malfoy stalked from the room.

Slowly, Harry sank back down into his chair and closed his eyes. He didn't truly notice when Terry and Hannah whispered their apologies and slipped out. He was too busy trying desperately to convince himself that Draco was wrong... but he wasn't doing such a good job of it.

* * *

Draco left the prefect's room, his expression changing completely as soon as he was out of sight of the others. Abruptly deciding that he had no desire to go to Slytherin and have to spend the next hour entertaining his house with expected tales of Potter's stupidity, he headed for the Astronomy Tower, his mind completely and utterly blank.

Out of habit, Draco locked the door behind him with an intricate spell – not that he found it remotely difficult to do – most of the doors in Malfoy Manor were locked by that particular incantation. For a few moments, the boy stood completely still, his eyes closed as he just breathed deeply. Having relaxed some insignificant amount, he made his way to the window seat, curling up on it as he often did when escaping the world around him.

He didn't do this often at Hogwarts. Almost never, in fact. He didn't need to. At Hogwarts, he reigned supreme. He led the Slytherins through their fear and admiration of his father, was the favorite student of the Head of his House, and had the entire school's attention by placing himself opposite the unforgivably popular Potter. With all that, he never had to worry about feeling inferior or incompetant.

That only happened at home.

Finally, he released his thoughts enough to allow the images he'd seen in Potter's pensieve to return to his mind, and immediately he shuddered. The look he'd seen on his father's face – it had almost seemed like respect. Enraged and reluctant respect, but respect just the same.

Lucius Malfoy had never looked at his own son that way. Draco knew, because he'd spent most of his life looking for it.

Not, of course, that it mattered. Harry had had his friends backing him up, and his father truly had seemed quite afraid of losing the Prophecy, and thus upsetting the Dark Lord. Personally, Draco didn't understand his father's devotion to Voldemort. The wizard had already proved himself unable to stand up to a mere child, and then made it worse when he couldn't finish him off as a teenager – and he'd faced him more than once!

It was disgusting, really. But Father said that there was more to Lord Voldemort than Draco had seen, and he trusted his father. Awful run of bad luck for the Dark Lord, though.

Draco shook his head, lifting his hand to rub the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache he felt coming on. It was all Potter's fault, too. He'd had to use so much effort to keep from leaping across the table and turning the idiotic Gryffindor into worm fodder that his head was throbbing. If only he hadn't promised his father he'd keep a close eye on Potter...

Well, there was nothing he could do about that. Not that he really wanted to. He intended to make the Boy Who Lived pay for the attention and respect that all the idiotically stupid (and seriously deluded) people in the wizarding world gave him. It was nauseating to see how everyone pandered to the little hero – even the professors at Hogwarts hesitated to deduct points from him these days. Merlin forbid they offend the Famous Harry Potter! Snape was the only exception, and as of late even he seemed to be avoiding the legendary Gryffindor. It made no sense, really, especially since Lucius had hinted more than once that Professor Snape was someone he could go to for help, if he needed it. Someone who understood their cause.

Draco frowned as he realized he should have done that long ago. Hell, Snape could probably give him a clue where his father was. Damn, why didn't he remember that before! Oh yes – too busy fending off Saint Potter to think about his own father. His fists balled as frustration overwhelmed him once again. Harry Potter was absolutely worthless, and he'd prove it to everyone. He'd make the stupid fool a laughingstock – teach everyone to despise the weakling for the coward he was.

If the thought arose that perhaps he wasn't capable of besting Potter, Draco ignored it completely. He was better than Harry Potter. He was.

* * *

"Everyone, please stop talking a moment!" Hermione yelled the words for the second time, glaring at those who dared ignore her statement. When the room was finally quiet, she offered the inhabitants a rather tiny smile – as if to say she'd known that they'd listen eventually – and gestured toward Harry, Terry and Hannah. "I believe they wish to get started."

Terry leaned toward Harry a bit, speaking under his breath. "Where's Draco, Harry? Thought he was leading the Slytherins..."

Harry frowned and shook his head, his shoulders lifting in a bit of a shrug, though the nonchalance was forced. He was very curious – and not just a little nervous. It wasn't like Malfoy to not show. He hadn't backed down since third year.

When a few more seconds of expectant silence passed, Terry shrugged and stepped forward, smiling toward the rather crowded room of students. "Hi, everyone. Quite a few of you, aren't there? We didn't expect this much... no matter, though, right? The more, the merrier, that's what we say, isn't it Harry? Hannah?"

Ron leaned toward Hermione, a brow cocked in amusement, "Is he expecting us to answer those questions? He's not giving anyone time to respond."

Hermione turned her head to glare at her friend for a split second, then faced forward again and whispered almost inaudibly, and out of the corner of her mouth "Shut up, Ron. He's nervous!" Ron snickered, though the sound was quickly stopped by a well-placed elbow being shoved in his gut. Hermione just grinned when Ron cussed at her beneath his breath.

Hannah was speaking now, her voice gradually becoming louder as her natural ability to relate to people overcame her nerves. "While we're aware that Hogwarts is a very safe place to be, we also know that circumstances can change rather quickly – especially with You Know Who's return. So, what we thought we'd do is..." Hermione tuned Hannah out as the bright Huffelpuff outlined the weekly schedule, tenative lesson plans, and the general layout for each session. She was quietly contemplating the value of a weekly study session to increase knowledge of the Dark Arts and protection charms when the door to the room slammed open and Neville Longbottom stepped inside.

For once, he wasn't shaking with terror or uncertainty, though his face was devoid of color. His lips pressed together as he caught Harry's eye. Hermione and Ron watched the silent exchange between the two – then they began to push closer to Neville, just as Harry jumped down from the table he'd been standing on (along with Terry and Hannah) and headed toward Longbottom, gesturing lightly for the other two to continue.

Most of the room was now focused on the four gathering together in the corner, and whispers began to raise the noise level as students contemplated what had caused the interruption. Terry watched as Hermione paled and began to shake her head. She stepped backward, stumbling a little, though Neville managed to get an arm behind her and prevent her from falling. Obviously stunned, she didn't notice the help, and even leaned in a bit closer to the other boy for support.

Harry's lips pressed together firmly as Neville finished speaking, and after a moment he nodded and glanced back at the room. His gaze met Ron's briefly – his friend nodded slightly and tilted his head toward the table. Harry returned the gesture, then walked back to the table, climbing on and holding up a hand to gain everyone's attention – though he already had it.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, exhaled slowly, then lifted his lashes. He surveyed the expectant, slightly worried faces of those who looked up at him, then began quietly, "I have some bad news..."

Hermione gasped in shock as she finally realized she was leaning into Neville, and she quickly jerked away, flushed with embarrassment. Ron hissed at her to be quiet.

"...Neville Longbottom has just informed me that he received an owl from his grandmother. ...It seems that the Death Eaters that had been sent to Azkaban last spring have escaped."

Loud gasps and cries of shock and fear were heard around the room as friends reached out to clasp hands, seeking support. Harry watched everyone grimly, then continued "In addition... the Dark Mark was seen in the sky over the prison. And... over Diagon Alley. At the same time."

A few of the younger girls began to cry, and Harry pressed his lips together grimly as he watched the news affect the group of students who'd been so eager to fight against the Dark Lord only minutes before. This had been a bad idea; they obviously weren't prepared for the reality of the situation.

"In light of this new information, I believe we should cancel this meeting and carefully consider how – or if – we're going to proceed."

"No!" Luna Lovegood stalked up to the table and climbed on, facing the room defiantly. "We all came here to learn how to stand up to You-Know- Who. We said that we didn't want the horror to happen all over again. We said that we were going to prevent it. Now, at the first small bit of reality, we're going to bail? No, damnit! We have to learn how to fight – otherwise the Humping Green Orangutangs will do it for us, and they will claim the right to govern the wizarding world!" At the last few words, Harry stifled a groan of frustration. She'd been doing so well..

Amidst slight snickers of surprise and amusement, a small voice piped up solemnly. "She's right, you know." It was Hermione.

Slowly she walked forward, until she faced everyone. "Not about the Orangutangs, of course – I don't believe those exist, Luna, I'm sorry. But... she's right about everything else. We came here to prepare ourselves for what we thought might come. Now we know it's coming. This changes nothing, other than that we ought to train even harder than we'd initially planned. Our parents tried to deal with You-Know-Who, and they failed. That means that it's up to us. I, for one, don't to give up now."

Murmurs of agreement – and some of disagreement – rippled through the crowd, until finally Ginny Weasley stepped forward. "I'm staying. I do not intend to be a victim again."

Again, whispers floated through the room, but no one else stepped forward – until Justin Finch-Fletchley took a deep breath and moved to stand next to Ginny, facing Harry, Hannah and Terry. "Neither do I."

Colin Creevy joined the other two, dragging his little brother with him. "Us either! We're staying!"

Harry began to relax, a smile of thanks given to the lot of them as more and more people decided to step forward. Ron moved up behind him "Harry..."

Harry glanced behind him, lifting a brow. "Yeah?"

"I think they've decided they want to learn something. Intend on helpin' 'em with that any time soon?" Ron grinned.

"Oh. Yeah."

Hannah nodded slightly, then lifted her chin and raised her voice. "Alright! Everyone who wishes to stay, find a partner – someone of similar learning experience! Those of you who wish to go, please do so – with no disagreements or judgements from the rest of us. We all have a choice to make here, and we're all free to make it."

The room began to buzz as people began picking partners with renewed excitement. Harry glanced at Terry, whose face was screwed up into a rather intense frown. "Something wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh. No... just... well, I bet that's why Malfoy isn't here."

Harry lifted his brows in surprise, then frowned himself. "You're probably right. Think he went home to his dad?"

"That'd be my best guess." Terry shrugged as he replied, his gaze following Hannah around the room as she checked to make certain everyone had a partner.

After a bit of thought, Harry nodded and shook his head. "I had hoped he'd stay."

Terry said nothing, though he looked at Potter a bit oddly.

"Ah, well. We'd better get started. We've a lot to accomplish, and I have a rather horrid feeling that we're going to need more time than we'll be alotted."

* * *