Last chapter was huge. Bigger than huge. The Prophesy bends its pieces to its will, makes them do thing that they would rather not do. Dumbledore doesn't want to hand the reigns over to a sixteen year old kid, but to prevent destroying the prophecy, he must.

Someone commented that I use the name Kathryn a lot. This isn't an oversight on my part. I just have a strong connection to the name.

Harry watched numbly as Stillwater Academy's select student's and faculty were burped out of Dumbledore's fireplace, one by one. The room was drenched in a sickly, green light as each person stepped from the roaring fire.

The first person to step out of the fire had been Thomas Gabriel, Headmaster of the Stillwater Academy. The man had embraced Dumbledore heavily and clapped him loudly on t the back. While they had hugged, Dumbledore had whispered something in to the aging man's ear. Gabriel eyes had widened and he had shot a quick glance in Harry's direction.

He told him, Harry thought. He told him that I now control the fates of us all, and he doesn't look too happy about it.

Regardless of how the man felt, he walked to Harry and bowed deeply. "You have my wand and the wands of all my people, young master Potter."

Harry silently returned the bow, not knowing what to say.

Draco, who hadn't left Harry's side that day, answered for him. "We are grateful for your help in the upcoming venture, Headmaster. Your support will be invaluable."

Draco had been raised in a very wealthy family and Harry noticed that he had a diplomat's tongue. That would be important, especially when word of Harry's new position reached the student's ears. Draco's silver tongue would be needed in the timed ahead.

Harry stared at the long line of people exiting the fireplace, not really seeing anything, until a deep, powerful voice rang out in the room. "Harry!"

Harry looked up and saw Quentin Boyd running toward him, dropping his bags as he ran. Quentin, big, black and as bald as ever, was a beautiful sight. Quentin had been a unfailing friend during their time in America, and in times when trust was a treasure, Quentin was unspoiled gold.

Harry caught Quentin in an emotional embrace. Quentin easily lifted Harry off of his feet and spun him around. Quentin set him down and pushed him to arm's length. "How the hell are you, Harry?"

Harry, even with all his dismal, life-altering events heavy on his mind, couldn't help but smile at his good friend. "Fine, Quent. Yourself? You seem to have recovered well."

Quentin's smile widened further. "I'm fine. You didn't think a sword in the gut would keep me out of this fight, did you?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "No, I guess not."

"No way!" Quentin said loudly, drawing glances from those already in the room. "Professor McGonagall and Longbottom stitched me up real nice. I was worried that when you went back home that I wouldn't be seeing you again."

Quentin looked over Harry's head (which wasn't hard, considering he was as tall as Ron and twice as wide)and smiled at Draco. "Malfoy! Good seeing you."

Draco took a step forward and extended a hand towards Quentin. Quentin ignored the hand and pulled Draco into a tight, bear-hug. Draco's eyes widened for a moment in surprise before smiling and returning the hug.

Quentin released Draco and turned back to Harry, his face suddenly serious. "Rumor has it that your running this outfit, Harry." He said in a quiet voice.

Harry nodded with a grim smile. "Sad but true."

Quentin smiled. "Good. We'll win then."

Harry's outlook wasn't nearly as optimistic, but he thanked the powers that be that he had a friend like Quentin. You could never have too many friends like Quentin.

When everyone from Stillwater had appeared from the fireplace, Harry did a quick headcount. Headmaster Gabriel had brought almost twenty teachers and roughly thirty students. Most of the students were Harry's age or older, but he could Jeremy Mead, who was no older than thirteen, standing near the fireplace, his eyes absorbing Dumbledore's amazing office. Harry remembered Jeremy from the banquet in America. Jeremy had been the welcomer when the students from Hogwarts had arrived. The boy still reminded Harry of a younger Colin Creevy, always doing his best to please.

Everyone in the room was looking at Dumbledore, expectantly. They obviously thought Dumbledore should say something. So, they were surprised when Harry took a step forward. "Hogwarts thanks you for your support. I can't say that this battle will be easily won, but we WILL win it. I hope this venture will bring our two schools closer together."

The Stillwater faculty looked at Harry, smiling. Some were smiling with amusement, letting this young boy say what he wanted to before the adults got down to business. They obviously thought Harry was more of a figurehead, rather than a real leader. He would lead them in name, but when it came down to it, they would do what they thought was right rather than obey.

Which was fine…for now. Harry hadn't wanted the job that Dumbledore forced on him, but now that he had it, he intended to lead. As for now, he would let them believe he was a figurehead.

Because of the growing tensions in the whole world around, many parents of students at Hogwarts had decided to not send their children back to school. Whether this meant that they, themselves were Death Eaters and they didn't want their children harmed in Voldemort's fury or that they were just concerned for their children's safety, Harry didn't know. So, when it came to housing the thirty Stillwater students, there were plenty open rooms in each house. The most openings were in Slytherin house. Harry signed the notices that allowed the Stillwater students to bed in the dungeon.

Draco led most of the students down into the dungeon. Dumbledore told Harry that he would be speaking with the Stillwater faculty. Harry knew he should stay, but the chance to get away from everything was too tempting to pass up. He slipped out of Dumbledore's office and down the deserted (class was in session) hallways of Hogwarts Castle.

He slipped up to Gryffindor Tower and plopped himself down in one of the more comfortable chairs, letting out a huge sigh. He sat in silence for about ten minutes until he heard a hand pounding on the Fat Lady portrait. She was yelling so loud that objects in the room were trembling. Harry moved to the portrait and pushed out on it.

"Such impetuousness!" the Fat Lady bellowed at someone in the hallway. "How dare you lay a hand on me young man! You do not know the password and so you shall not pass."

"Shut up, you old bag!" Draco's voice rang out, slightly muffled as if he had something in his mouth, from the other side.

Harry pushed the portrait all the way open and caught a look of Draco.

"Goodness." Harry whispered, seeing Draco's face.

Draco was leaning heavily against the wall, holding on hand in the other, a grimace plain on his face. The was swollen and bruised and Harry thought it was probably broken.

But what really shocked Harry was the shape of Draco's face. It seemed like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. His jaw was so swollen that he couldn't close it all the way. There was large gash over one of his eyes and blood was falling downward, giving his eye a red tint. His nose was crooked and swollen.

Even though the tremendous pain was evident on Draco's face, he managed to say, "You always see me at my worst, Potter."

"What the hell happened?" Harry asked, leading Draco to the common room's couch. Draco sat down with a groan.

"They caught me, those bastards." Draco said. "Fuckers broke my hand."

"Among other things." Harry said, standing up. He ran back to the Fat Lady. He looked up at her chubby face and said, "Find Neville Longbottom! Tell him to come here."

The Fat lady drew herself up. "Who do you think you are, ordering me around?"

Harry didn't bother telling her that he was the new leader of the castle. He had seen her leave her portrait before and knew that she could travel across the entirety of the castle quicker than he could. "Just do it!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The Fat Lady flinched and ran, exiting the side of her frame. Harry didn't bother to wait for her; he went back into the common room and stood by Draco who was wheezing heavily.

"What happened, Draco?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed painfully. "Bastards were waiting for me. I showed the Stillwater kids where they would be sleeping. When I was coming back, they caught in the hallway. There were plenty of them. Certainly more than I could handle."

Harry felt a strange, horrible anger run through his body. "How many were there?" he asked, plans already running through his head.

Draco shrugged slightly. "I don't know. Ten, maybe. They were skipping class just get a piece of me. Crabbe and Goyle at the front."

Harry hadn't thought Crabbe and Goyle were able to think independently, but they had proved him wrong.

Draco laughed again. "It's funny. Even though they had me outnumbered, Crabbe and Goyle were hesitant, as if they were scared of me. It didn't last long, though."

The portrait burst open and Neville came running into the room, his bag slung over one shoulder. "What's up, Harry? The Fat Lady yelled at me until I came here. She followed me all the way down hall, from portrait to portrait, just yelling. Something's got her scared."

That would be me, Harry thought. He pointed at Draco and said, "The Slytherins got to Draco."

Neville saw Draco and moved immediately to his side. As clumsy and unsure as he was at all other times, when someone needed healing, Neville was calm and straight-faced. Dumbledore is right about him, Harry thought. Neville would have no trouble leading the medical unit in the upcoming battle.

Neville pulled out his wand and began muttering under his breath, touching Draco's injured parts.

Within a minute Draco was like brand new. He flexed his formerly broken hand. He looked up at Neville with something close to respect. "Hey, you're pretty good with this kind of thing."

Neville blushed deeply. "This and nothing else." He said almost proudly.

Harry had been pacing the room and when he saw Draco was fine again, he walked over to the couch.

"I don't get it." Harry said. "Why would they do it? I know they hate you, but if a teacher saw what they did to you, they'd get kicked out."

Draco laughed. "I don't think that would bother this group very much. In fact I don't think they're planning on staying out the day. Everyone of them was the son of a Death Eater. Seems like Voldemort might be calling in all the reinforcements."

Harry slapped his head. "Already? Why would he want these kids to go to him?"

"To swell his ranks, Potter!" Draco muttered. "Voldemort is preparing for war and he doesn't care if his soldiers are fully trained. He plans on overwhelming us!"

Harry shook his head slowly. "I'd rather Voldemort go without ten more recruits." Harry said quietly.

Draco's eyebrows lifted. "Me too."

Neville stood up. "What are we going to do about it?"

Harry looked to Neville with surprise. "Neville, you should probably stay out of it."

Neville shook his head calmly. "I want to do this. We can't let them go beating up on the good guys and get away with it."

Draco seemed touched by Neville's words and he put a hands on the boys shoulder. "Thank you, Longbottom."

"Don't mention it."

"We have to find Ron and Hermione." Harry said.

Draco laughed quietly. "Weasley's a little too good for this kind of thing, don't you think. He could take all ten, by himself."

"He won't take all ten." Harry muttered. "Because I want a few, myself. Neville, tell the Fat Lady to find Ron, Hermione and Quentin."

Draco nodded. "Good idea. Boyd's as strong as an ox."

Neville ran off. Harry looked at Draco. "Six against ten or more. Hardly seems fair."

Draco nodded largely. "Yeah, we should tell them about it beforehand so they can get all their friends."

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

Minutes later, Ron, Hermione and Quentin showed up. Harry filled them in on what had happened and all of their faces turned grim. They all agreed that fighting them was the only course of action.

The six of them moved through the halls silently. No one spoke aloud, though Ron and Hermione were probably speaking to each other quietly. They were almost always talking.

Their destination was the dungeon, but they ran into the group well before that. Harry spotted a group of three Slytherins walking into the Great Hall. Harry looked back at Draco, who nodded. These three had been a part of the attack.

Harry followed them into the Great Hall. The Hall was almost deserted. Most students were in class at this time. Only a few students who didn't have class sat in the Great Hall, enjoying their time off. All talking stopped when stopped, as if these students could sense what was coming.

The three Slytherins walked towards a table where twenty Slytherins sat, laughing and congratulating each other. They were all males and they were all large. They ranged from year one, to year seven.

Harry looked back at Draco, who nodded again. "All of them. They weren't all there, but every last one of them is the son of a Death Eater." He said.

Harry felt his anger rise. Twenty on one. Such cowardice! He could hardly believe that this many followers of Voldemort had been living under the same roof as him.

Harry motioned for the rest of the group to remain where they were and walked forward. When he was about twenty yards away, the first Slytherin saw him. The boy touched Crabbe on the shoulder and pointed to Harry, who continued to walk towards them.

Crabbe and Goyle stood, smiling. "Come to get some of what he got, Potter?" Goyle asked, motioning toward Draco.

Harry ignored the comment. "I know what you are." He said this quietly, but knew the comment reached their ears. "All of you."

Crabbe looked uncertain. "What do you know about us, Potter?"

"Death Eaters, everyone of you. Or Death Eater wannabes. Doesn't make much difference in my eyes."

Goyle smiled wickedly. "Who cares what you know. You can't prove anything."

Harry shrugged carelessly. "I know that you're planning on running back to Voldemort, fairly soon. I also know that you aren't going to make it out of this castle."

Goyle's eyes widened at that. The seat were suddenly empty as all twenty Slytherins stood. Several cracked their knuckles threateningly. "As you can see we have a few more men than you do. Who's going to stop us? The six of you?"

Harry just nodded. Maybe it was stupid, but he wasn't afraid in the least. He was standing not ten feet away from twenty large enemies and he wasn't scared. He had seen pain, death and true loss and when he looked at these…punks, he was only disgusted.

Crabbe lurched forward and threw a heavy over hand punch at Harry. Harry merely ducked and threw a quick uppercut into Crabbe's groin. Crabbe squealed like a girl and as his knees buckled the battle began.

Seeing Harry separated from his friends, the boys all thought to bring a quick end to him. The rushed forward ready to stomp him into the stone flooring of the Great Hall. What they didn't count on was Ron Weasley.

Before any of them got within five feet of him, Harry saw a red and black blur fly past him. The charging boys suddenly looked like bowling pins as several of them were launched in different directions.

Harry laughed and jumped into the melee, fists pumping. He squared off with Jerald Grimsley, a large seventh year, who, like the rest of them, hated Harry with a passion. Jerald threw himself at Harry, meaning to wrestle him to the ground. Harry turned as the other boy hit him. Using muscles formed and toned through years of Quidditch and Jerald's own momentum, Harry grabbed hold of Jerald's robe and flung him to the ground. Harry landed on to of the boy and heard Jerald's breath getting knocked out of him. Jerald was wheezing when Harry punched fully across the face. Jerald's head snapped to one side and his eyes went out of focus.

Harry turned just in time to see a large foot flying towards him. The foot connected with his stomach and lifted him off the ground. He couldn't stop the groan that erupted from his throat.

Whoever had kicked him (Harry couldn't remember his name), pulled back his fist to pummel Harry, but was stopped when Quentin hit him with a huge fist. Harry would have cringed from the sound that the punch made if he hadn't been kicked moments before by the one who was receiving it. The boy hit the stone with a thump and Quentin moved onto his next victim. Harry laughed even louder and followed him.

The fight was extremely short, considering the numbers. When it was over, Harry surveyed the damage. It had gone very well. Neville's nose was the only real injury. It was swollen and bleeding but so were his knuckles, showing that he had given as well as he got.

A Slytherin groaned and pushed himself to his knees. Hermione, who was holding a piece of broken bench in her hands, calmly walked over the Slytherin. She swung the wooden bit and, with a dull thud, the boy was knocked back on his stomach. Harry was pretty sure she had taken out several of them that way.

One of the ancient, wooden tables had been broken in the fight. Ron was sitting on a bench, calmly counting out loud. "Four. Five. Six. Seven." A smile lit up his face. "I got seven." He proclaimed happily.

Harry laughed. "Four."

"Two." Quentin said, smiling.

"Two." Neville said proudly

"One." Malfoy said. "But it was Goyle so I'm satisfied."

"Four." Hermione said. The other looked at her with surprise. She shrugged. "A lot of the younger years were hanging back. They didn't seem too happy to get into the fight. I would have left them alone, but one of them pulled a wand. He was going to curse Ron. I doubt it would have done anything, but it was like I HAD to react. I picked this up." She said, gesturing with the piece of wood.

"And started swinging like it was the bottom of the ninth!" Quentin shouted and threw a fist in the air.

The others turned to him and gave him questioning looks.

Quentin shrugged. "It's a baseball thing." He said sheepishly.

Harry laughed. "Bloody Yankee."

"No." Quentin said. "I'm a Marlin."

"What?"

"I'm from Florida."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco asked.

Quentin just laughed.

Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation that they just escaped from, but Harry couldn't help laugh too. Before long everyone was laughing. Their mirth echoed off of the four corners of the Hall.



"Baseball?!" Ron exclaimed, rolling on the ground, laughing so hard he had to cradle his stomach. "I get it! F-F-lorida-"

"Will someone explain what here?" a voice behind them asked. Harry, still laughing (he couldn't help it) turned and saw McGonagall and Snape standing there, murder plain on their faces.



Harry wanted to answer, but he was laughing to hard, thinking about what they would do with twenty prisoners.

Hey, there it is. I knew that with a battle upcoming the Voldemort supporters would expose themselves. You know, cause a little havoc before leaving. But they hadn't counted on Harry and Company, had they? Few chapters left…I think.