Harry Potter and the Path of War

by Anduril666

A year has passed since the Dark Lord's return, and the wizarding world is living in fear. The war that began over 15 years ago is picking up pace again, and Harry must come to terms with both the war and the prophecy before he can end it.

9. Chapter nine: Lionheart

Harry Potter and the Path of War

Chapter Nine: Lionheart

"Potter," it hissed croakily, and Harry took a step backwards, his jaw dropping and his mouth working soundlessly as he did so. He gazed in immense shock at the grand Thestral across from him, which looked nonplussed by Harry's reaction to it speaking, and whose eyes were still fixed on his. Harry collected himself and took a hesitant step forwards.

"You. .you just. .I mean you can. .I can't believe you just . . .you. .you can talk?" Harry stammered to the Thestral, who shook it's reptillian head at him.

"I cannot understand you," it hissed at him, taking it's own step fowards towards Harry, who took another step backwards. "You must speak to me in the Language of the Snakes."

Realisation washed over Harry, and he let out a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of relief in his stomach at the Thestral's words. So that was why the Thestrals had wanted to talk to him; because he was a Parseltongue!

Harry let out a deep sigh of relief. He had been worried that the Thestrals had wanted to see him because he was 'Harry Potter', because they needed him to do something for them, and he felt immensely relived that that wasn't the case. I'm the only one they can talk to, Harry now realised. It would sound just like hissing to anyone else.

Harry looked closely at the old Thestral before him now, trying to see it as one big giant snake, taking away the horse legs and flattening it onto the ground, with it's black hide becoming the smooth black scaly skin of a Snake. . .

"What do you want to talk to me about?" Harry said, and instead of speaking in normal English his words came out in a series of hissings, his throat tickling as they did so.

The ancient Thestral ambled slowly forwards towards Harry, it's legs creaking horribly as it did so, until it was so close that Harry could see straight into it's white and staring eyes, which were still locked on him. This was disturbing to Harry, not only because it's eyes seemed to look straight through him, but because it was roughly the same height as Harry, making it a six foot tall Thestral. Harry swallowed, praying that the creature didn't turn on him. It would be a hard fight, even if he did have his wand; just because he had it, it didn't necessarily mean he'd be able to get to it to use it.

Up close, Harry could see clearly the age of the thing; there were deep lines etched into it's face, as if it had more worries and cares than most human beings. There were patches of it's hide missing from it's torso, which was scarred and weather-beaten. One scar ran down from the top of the Thestral's head to half way down the length of the Thestral's body.

Harry shook his head, to stop gawping at the condition of the old Thestral. Despite it's weather-beaten body it seemed to Harry that the grand Thestral possessed an aura of dignity and command, as if it was a Prince or something. The Thestral's eyes seemed to light up clearer as Harry repeated his question.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" he said again, and the Thestral took another step forwards. Harry noticed disconcertingly that they were around the same sight, feeling disturbed that any Thestral could be that tall. The Thestral locked his eyes on Harry's.

"I wish to speak to you about a number of things," it said to him now, and Harry took a step backwards, as Thestral salivia went all over him as the old Thestral hissed. "But first I must bid you to please tell Hagrid that this meeting is between you and me only, and that you will meet him when we are finished. Also, please thank him on behalf of my race for the love and hospitality hr has shown my race for over fifty years."

Harry started; he had completely forgotten that Hagrid was there with them as well, having been so shocked by the Thestral speaking. He turned around now, to see Hagrid staring down at him with a gobsmacked expression on his face.

"Blimey Harry," he said hoarsely. "Are yeh talkin' to im'? In Parseltongue?"

Harry nodded, and Hagrid began to bob up and down with suppressed excitement, prompting Harry to quickly relay the message the Thestral had given him before Hagrid could get too excited.

"Ah that's alright," Hagrid said, waving one of his enormous hands dismissively as Harry told him of the Thestral's thanks for his love and hospitality over the years. He stepped forwards and bowed low to the old Thestral, who in return bent it's front legs and bowed back to Hagrid. Hagrid turned back to Harry.

"Tell 'im that it was my pleasure teh look after such wonderful creatures," he said, and Harry promised that he would. Hagrid pointed to the cluster of trees that they had emerged into the dead-end path of the Thestral from earlier.

"I'll meet yeh over there when yeh done talkin', alright Harry? Dunno why I can' jus' stay," he grumbled, "it all sounds like ruddy hissing teh me anyway."

He walked off into the cluster of trees, dissappearing from sight and leaving Harry with a nervous foreboding feeling in his stomach as he was left alone with the grand Thestral. Taking a deep breath, he turned around back to the creature.

"Hagrid said for me to tell you that it was his pleasure to look after such wonderful creatures," he hissed, and the Thestral pawed the ground gently.

"He is a great man, Hagrid," it hissed back at him. "I fear for him in these dangerous times."

There was a strange uncomfortable silence for a moment, before the Thestral stepped forwards again, making his and Harry's faces nearly touching. Harry slowly took a step backwards. The Thestral did not seem to notice.

"Harry Potter," it hissed at him, bending it's front legs and bowing low to him, as it had done to Hagrid. Harry bowed uncertainly back. "It is my pleasure to finally be meeting you at last. I am Arganual, Chief of the Race of Thestrals. I have been wishing to meet and speak with you for many moons now."

"Why?" hissed Harry, as he came slowly out of his bow. His head was spinning; he was having a conversation with a Thestral, who wasnamed Arganual, 'Chief of the Race of Thestrals', and had been wanting to speak with him for 'many moons'.

Am I dreaming? he thought vaguely, before a sudden blast of wind which rustled the trees around him brought him back to reality. He turned back to the Thestral named Arganual, his head still spinning uncomfortably.

"Why the sudden interest?" he continued in Parseltongue, which was beginning to feel more comfortable. "Why now? I've seen Thestrals loads of times in the last year or so, why do you suddenly want to talk to me now?"

"Before we go any further with this," the old Thestral said, "I need for you to seal off this area with silence. Do you no such magic for this?"

Harry faltered. "Er, you mean a Silencing Charm? So no one can hear what we're saying?"

"Yes."

"Uh, yeah, I can do that. Hold on."

Harry withdrew his wand from his pocket and looked around, choosing four trees around their small clearing that he could use for the square area to seal off. Making up his mind what four trees he was going to choose, he walked up to the first one and touched his wand to the bark.

"Incipio Finium Silentium," he said, and a light silver thread issued from the end of Harry's wand and touched the tree gently. Harry dipped his wand into this thread, and trailed it (with one end of the thread wrapped around the tree and the other half attached to his wand) to the next tree, which he wrapped the thread around and detached from his wand. The entire thread turned purple as he wrapped it around the tree.

"Finium Silentium," he said, and the thread turned back to silver. Again Harry dipped his wand into this thread and trailed it to the next tree, repeating the same incantation before moving on to the last one.

"Finium Silentium," he said, making the thread wrapped around the last tree silver as well, and trailed it lightly back to the first tree.

Now Harry and Arganual were enclosed in a square area of glowing silver thread, connected together by four trees. Harry pointed his wand at the thread on the first tree, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Silentium Venustas," he said firmly, and the entire silver thread glowed bright gold before dissappearing completely. The Silencing Charm had been enacted, and any sound coming from the area that had been enclosed by the silver thread and the four trees was now sealed off to anyone outside of it. Cheers for teaching me that one, Remus, Harry thought, remembering how much difficulty he had had remembering the different incantations when he had been learning it.

"There you go," Harry said, feeling a bit drained as he walked back towards Arganual. He did not pocket his wand however, but kept it grasped tightly in his hand, in case Arganual wasn't as friendly as he appeared to be. "No one can hear a word we say. Can we continue now then?

The Chief of the Thestrals raised it's head to the blood-red sky, the crimson red of the sky being reflected clearly in his white eyes.

"We had to be sure of something," he said, his head and eyes still on the sky. "Something that became clear to us in the month of Upopyzius, that you humans refer to as 'June'."

So Hagrid was right, Harry thought, they want to talk to me because of a connection I made with them when I flew Thestrals to the Ministry last June.

Harry shook his head violently, quickly expelling the thoughts and feelings of that fateful night to the back of his mind, and concentrated on the white light behind his eyes, which he found after a small struggle. Having effectively cleared his mind, he turned back to Arganual, who was standing silently in front of him with his head still raised to the sky.

"And what was it that became clear to you?" he asked him, and Arganual lowered his eyes from the blood drenched sky and rested them again on Harry.

"That you are indeed Him."

"That I am indeed who?"

"That you are Lionheart," he said simply. Harry stared.

"I'm Lionheart?" he hissed to Arganual, confused. Was this a nickname or something? he wondered.

"And what does that mean?" he asked Arganual, who bowed to him again, the bottom of his head touching the floor this time as he bowed very low. He came out of his bow slowly, and stared at Harry.

"It means that you are Lionheart, the High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest," he hissed. Harry stared at him, hardly believing his own ears.

"You. .you what?" he hissed shakily, his stomach churning horribly. He closed his eyes briefly. Please, not anything else he pleaded, not really knowing exactly who he was talking to, but wanting an answer nonetheless. Please don't make more people have to depend on me, he thought desparately, I can't save everyone. .

No answer came, and Harry sighed in desparation. He turned back to Arganual, who had raised his head to the sky again, exposing a long white scar that trailed down his neck.

"Please explain this to me," Harry hissed to him quietly, and Arganual lowered his eyes and nodded at Harry.

"As you wish," he hissed, and raised his eyes to the sky again.

"There is a tale," he hissed, "that is told to every inhabitant of this Forest from the day of their birth to the day they die. This tale tells of a man named Lionheart, a great hero of a man, with a shining sword and a long mane of black hair. It is foretold that this man will come forth at a time of great war, and be the High Protector and Guardian of this Great Forest and of the races within it. He will rally the races of the Forest, it is said, and when the time comes he will lead them into a great battle, a final battle which will decide the fate of the world. It seems to me, and indeed by almost every creature of my race, that the great hero Lionheart is you."

Harry shook his head, and turned away from Arganual. Lionheart! he thought derisvely. Him, the 'High Protector and Guardian' of the Forbidden Forest? Come on! The whole idea sounded absurd, he decided. And even if the tale was true, it couldn't possibly be him. He didn't really have a long mane of black hair, and he certainly didn't have a shining sword.

No, can't be me, he said to himself, firmly.

And yet. . .

There were many signs pointing to it being true, he realised now. He was a Parseltongue, making him the only one who could speak with creatures in the Forest. . .the Thestrals had sent for him, and they seemed to be sure that he was this Lionheart bloke. .there was the Prophecy, which had already shown him that he had a critical part to play in the outcome of the War, which he assumed would be in a final battle like the one Arganual had described. . .and then there was the Line of the Protectors. .hold on. . . .'Line of Protectors', 'High Protector of the Great Forest'. . . . might be linked somehow. .I'll ask Dumbledore. .

Harry sighed heavily and sat down on the grass below his feet, holding his head in his hands. He felt like crying and screaming at the same time. Why was it always him? Why was he the one who this shit always happened to? Why did he have to be one that had to kill Voldemort, why did he have to be the one who had to train someone to be a murderer, and why did he have to be the one who was now responsible for countless creature's lives?

Suddenly Harry stood, turned, and kicked a tree as hard as he could.

"Arrrgggghhhh!!" Harry screamed, feeling as if he was screaming out his soul, his chest aching. He started to punch the tree hard, feeling the rough bark cutting his hands as he did so, but he didn't care. He kicked the tree hard, making intense pain blossoming in his toes through his worn boots, but he welcomed it.

"WHY!!??" he screamed, hitting the tree hard with his now bloody fists. He punctuated every word with a hard punch of the tree, hearing several loud cracks in his hands as he did so. "WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!!?? WHY ME? WHY ME FOR FUCKS SAKE? ARRRGGGHHH! WHY? WHY? WHY?"

Harry collapsed to the ground, gripping the roots of the tree he had been hitting with his trembling hands, and began to sob, not heeding the fact that he was in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and a six foot tall Thestral was inches from him.

As he sobbed, whether it was because of his emotional state or not, Harry could swear that the tree roots under his hands were getting warmer, and that the grass beneath his feet was doing the same thing. Looking down, he saw his hands begin to shake by themselves, and he tried to pull them off of the tree roots. He felt his feet do the same thing, and tried to move them as well. Neither would move however, and as the feeling of warmth in his hands and feet began to get uncomfortable, Harry began to panic.

Just as he was about to call to Arganual to help, his hands and feet began to get warmer as well, not just the surface underneath them. He watched in fascination as his hands became warmer and warmer, and then slowly turned colour, from white to yellow to gold. He assumed his feet were doing the same thing.

The warmth intensified almost unbearably under and inside his golden hands and feet, and a sudden shot of intense heat made him cry out in pain. Arganual made no move to help him.

Just as Harry was going to attempt a wandless Reductor Curse at the tree the searing heat suddenly stopped, both in his hands and feet and in the tree and grass beneath him. He successfully wrenched his hands free and moved his feet and sat there panting heavily, looking in wide-eyed shock first at the tree and then at his hands, which had turned back to their normal colour. He pressed his hands to the grass, which was now cool with the evening air, instead of uncomfortably warm as it had been before. He then touched his worn boots with his hands, feeling that they were back to their normal heat. Satisfied that whatever had happened was now over Harry collapsed on to the grass face first, breathing in the fresh coolness of it, his chest aching as he panted heavily because of what had just happened.

After a while he regained his breath, and stood precariously, shaking his hands in front of his face and rubbing them on his robes. He turned to Arganual.

"What was that?" he said shakily, and Arganual turned to look at him (he had been looking at the tree that Harry had been attached to). "Do you know what that was?"

Arganual lowered his reptillian head.

"Yes."

"Well then what was it?" Harry demanded, still shocked beyond doubt. Arganual looked him in the eye.

"It was the Forest. Do you believe in it's power now? Do you believe that you are Lionheart the Guardian now?"

Harry stared at him.

"When did I say I didn't believe in it's power? And what, that was the Forest telling me that I'm this Lionheart bloke, the man that's supposed to lead you all? And the Forest showed me this by trying to burn me alive?"

"The Forest was not burning you alive," Arganual hissed calmly, "it was healing you. Take a closer look at your hands and feet."

Harry started and looked down again at his hands, as he had being doing since he had got them free from the warm tree roots; and then it clicked.

When he had fallen to the floor after screaming his hands had been bloody, and Harry had known from prior experience that two of his fingers were most definitely broke, as were at least three of his knuckles. His left hand, he reckoned, had almost certainly been broke, and he wondered briefly how he had been able to grip the roots of the tree so tightly. He flexed his hands lightly, and the fingers gently flexed, as good as knew. There was no blood on either of his hands.

Remembering the intense pain in his toes and feet, Harry grasped his worn boots and pulled them off, and to his suprise his feet were also looking as good as new. He looked at the tree roots in amazement, and then at the grass, and then at Arganual.

"The Forest healed me?" Harry said weakly, and Argnaul nodded. "I. .why did it. .just to prove that I'm. .the Forest can heal people?"

Arganual shook his head in disagreement.

"Not people, no," he said. "Only you, Lionheart."

"Don't call me that," Harry snapped, but inside something was beginning to fall into place. He turned away from Arganual and looked down at the tree roots which had burned him so painfully, and then turned back to the Thestral and looked at the grass around his hooves, remembering it's heat as his feet were healed, and the rich colour of gold his hands had turned.

And suddenly it all went in.

Harry remembered all his encounters in the Forbidden Forest since his first year; he had been saved from Voldemort then by an inhabitant of the Forest, Firenze the Centaur; the Forest had saved him. In his second year another inhabitant of the Forest, the flying Ford Anglia, had saved him from death. Albeit he had been being saved from another race in the Forest, but he had still been saved by the Forest. Last year he had been saved by another inhabitant of the Forest, Grawp, from certain death otherwise. And then just minutes ago he had almost certainly had broken bones in both his hands and his feet, but the Forest had healed them for him. He realised that, despite all the dangerous and life-threatening situations he had been in in the Forest, he had never come to any harm. It was almost like the Forest was looking out for him or something, protecting him from harm, as loyal soldiers would do for their general. . .

"I'm Lionheart," he whispered, and Arganual bowed low to the ground, his lowest bow yet.

"Yes, Harry Potter," he said, his face to the grass. "You are."

Harry stared down at the Thestral at his feet, a strange feeling of foreboding and acceptance in his stomach. He stared hard at Arganual.

"What do I have to do?" he asked him.

"You are our leader," Arganual replied, slowly getting back up on his feet and standing tall again. "You are our High Protector and Guardian, our Commander, and it is you who must lead us into battle. We are not ready for battle. You must train us for it."

"Train you. I've got to train every single creature in this Forest how to fight. And then I have to lead you all into battle?"

Arganual bowed his head, and Harry sighed and looked to the sky. Why, why me? he asked again, before berating himself for losing focus and bringing his eyes back to Arganual. He looked him in the eye.

"Alright then," he said, his voice full of determination. "I'll do it."

And then, the panic set in.

"But how am I ever going to be able to command all the creatures of this Forest?" he hissed desparately at Arganual. "Some of them hate humans. I've already nearly been eaten by Acromantulas in here, and the Centaurs have said that they'll kill any human who enters the Forest. So how. ."

Harry stopped short and looked around suddenly, having forgot the Centaur's threat when he had first entered the Forest, and now half-expecting Bane and the other Centaurs to suddenly come charging at him.

"You have nothing to fear from them anymore," Arganual hissed. "And never again will you have to fear to come into this Forest, Harry Potter, for you are Lionheart."

"Yeah, we've established that now," Harry muttered, and then another thought came into his head.

"In two years time I leave Hogwarts," he said. "Two years. Do you think that's long enough to train every single race in this Forest to fight? Do you? It can't be done!"

"You will find a way, Harry Potter."

"And what if I don't find a way?" Harry hissed back. "What if I don't train you in time? What happens if Voldemort attacks next week, and you're not ready to fight? You'll all get massacred! And some of the races in here won't even let me train them. Like I told you, the Centaur's were going to kill me, as were the Acromantulas, and the Centaur's have banned me from the Forest! I'm not even allowed in the Forest, let alone allowed to protect it, let alone allowed to come in regularly and train all the races in here to fight in a battle where you could all be killed! They won't cooperate with me, I know they won't, and so how am I going to be able to train them to fight?"

"I shall call a Meeting of the Forest," Arganual said. Harry gave him a puzzled look, and he explained.

"A Meeting of the Forest is a meeting of the primary races of the Forest, which meets when an issue arises that collectively concerns us all. All other issues, such as the Food Chain, are swept aside in such times, and a Meeting of the Forest is called to decided on what we must do. Most races generally send representatives to these Meetings, to speak on behalf of their race.

"When we all assembled in the next Meeting, you will be there as well. There we will debate your claim to the title of Lionheart, High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest."

"What claim, I didn't. ."

Harry stopped, shaking his head slowly, resigning himself to the face that there was just no point arguing about it. He sighed deeply, accepting defeat, and turned to Arganual.

"When are you going to arrange this Meeting for then?" he said.

"That, Lionheart, is up to you." Harry frowned.

"Well, alright," he said uncertainly. "Er, let's see. . .it's the second of September now, and it'd probably be best to do it as quick as possible. . .how about on the seventh? That''d be the best, that's on a Sunday."

Arganual nodded in agreement.

"And when do you think I should hold this Meeting?" Harry asked him. "At day or night?"

"I would advise you to arrange the Meeting for early in the day, preferably Sunrise. I do not anticipate it to be a quick Meeting." Harry's eyebrow's rose at the last comment.

"Really?" he said, interested. "How long do you think it'll take?"

Arganual raised his head to the sky again.

"Many will be wanting to see you," he said. "You will have to answer many questions. It would be best to begin at Sunrise."

Harry nodded, and hissed back, "okay, we'll do that then. And er, where do you think I should hold this Meeting?"

"I know of a place," Arganual hissed. "I will inform the others that it will be there. If you would take my advice, I would meet you an hour before Sunrise on the morn of the Meeting, by the borders of the Forbidden Forest. I will take you to the Meeting."

Harry nodded, a sense of foreboding entering his stomach as he thought about this impending Meeting, and hissed at Arganual, "is that everything then?"

Arganual bent his head to the side, and gave Harry a strange look.

"For the moment it is everything," he hissed after a minute, "until the Meeting of the Forest."

Harry nodded.

"Ok, well, it's been nice meeting you," he said awkwardly. They couldn't very well shake hands as they left eachother, and Harry wondered if he should pat the old Thestral on the back or something, or stroke him, but the tall Thestral looked too noble for that.

"I'll see you on Sunday," he settled with finally, and began to walk away, before something came to his mind. He turned back to Arganual.

"Erm, I know this'll sound strange," he hissed, "but could you not tell anyone about me hititng the tree and crying and all that? It's not exactly something that the races of the Forest are going to want to know about their new leader; they'll all think I'm weak."

"Your secret is safe with me, Harry Potter." Harry nodded at him.

"Thank you."

Harry turned to walk away, when Arganual's voice stopped him.

"Before you leave, Harry Potter," Arganual said, "a word of warning in your ear."

Harry turned back to Arganual.

"The tale of the High Protector and Guardian Lionheart has been told to the inhabitants of this Forest for over six hundred years. As such it has been distorted into a legendary myth by many races, and not as a record of what is to come in the future. And so I must tell you, then; many races of this Forest will be expecting Lionheart to be a great warrior, of strength, wisdom and great authority. They will expect him to be seven feet tall with a five foot long sword, with a long beard and clad in shining armour. They will not be expecting a young man of sixteen as their great High Protector and Guardian.

"Now I, in the hardly-won wisdom of my race, have fully accepted that you are not a warrior hero of great authority, or at least I have accepted that you are not one yet. However, other races of this Great Forest will not be so accepting, and so I must warn you to please act as warrior-like and as commanding as you can."

Harry sighed and looked to the sky, which was now slowly turning to a dark evening blue. This just gets better and better, he thought wryly. He brang his eyes back to earth, and to Arganual.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" he hissed. "How am I supposed to act 'warrior-like and commanding'?"

"Speak in tones that leave no room for argument. Tell them that no, you are not what they expected, but myths can be misleading. Throw in casual references to make it seem like you have fought many battles and experienced a lot in the past. You never have to mention anything specific, just make references; they should all get the picture. And then outline your plans in your most commanding tone, firm and authoratitive."

"My plans?" said Harry, starting to panic. "What plans?"

"You are Lionheart, Harry Potter, High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest, the one that will lead the races of this Forest into battle. We are not yet ready for battle. Do you understand?"

"Oh!" said Harry, remembering now. "Right right, plans to train you all. I. ."

And then he stopped.

"Hold on, I haven't got any plans yet! You mean to say that I have to have all my plans for training every single bloody race in this Forest organised and ready to present for Sunday, in six days time? It's impossible, I can't do it!" he said, beginning to panic again.

"No," Arganual hissed, "you do not have to have all your plans organised for the Meeting. All you have to do is outline your plans, as I said before. All you have to do is act like you do have your plans organised and ready. I'm sure you can convince them that you know what you're talking about, even though youwon't."

Harry swore he could detect a trace of amusement in the old Thestral's voice, and he relaxed and smiled at him.

"Alright then," Harry hissed, "I'll do that. Oh, and one more thing; is it alright if I tell my friends about this? I'm going to need some help."

"Would you trust them to keep this information to themselves?" Arganual hissed, and Harry nodded immediately.

"I would trust them with my life," he said, and Arganual bowed, for some reason Harry didn't know.

"That is well," he hissed. "You will need friends like that in the days that are to come."

Harry chose to ignore this comment, and merely said, "I'll see you on Sunday." Arganual lowered his head and bowed to the floor again, and when he raised his body again Harry bowed back to him, less uncertainly this time. He nodded at the Thestral and walked away.

"Until then, Lionheart," he heard Arganual hiss behind him, and Harry turned to see the Thestral one last time.

But he was already gone, a large bat-like shape above the trees in the velvet blue sky, getting smaller and smaller as he flew away south. Harry watched as he flew further away, leaving him alone with the Forest, the night, the moon and another heavy burden for his young and already heavily burdened shoulders.

Harry met Hagrid and walked back through the Forest in the deepening dark with him with his mind still full of Arganual's meaningful words, his head spinning and his stomach churning. Hagrid had eagerly asked about their meeting when Harry had met him, but he had looked at Harry's troubled face and refrained from asking again, although he had asked several times if Harry was alright. Harry had said he didn't want to talk about it.

It was pitch black when they returned to Hagrid's cabin, having avoided getting lost only by Harry lighting his wand and Hagrid's extensive knowledge of the Forest paths. Fang bounded in happily when Harry opened the door, and Hagrid quickly made some tea and sat down a cup in front of Harry sitting on the sofa, which he took gratefully. Hagrid himself sat down opposite Harry in his enormous armchair, looking worriedly over at him.

"Yeh okay, Harry? Do yeh want teh talk about it yet?"

Harry sighed and put down his cup of tea, which he had just burnt his tongue with. He began to tell Hagrid again that he didn't want to talk about it, but he found himself relaying the whole conversation to him, stopping for breath only when it was absolutely necessary. It felt like the more he talked about it the more the idea that he was responsible for protecting all these creature's lives became more real, and this feeling of responsibility, along with remembering the Prophecy and the Line of Protectors, was beginning to make Harry feel literally suffocated. He could feel a literal weight on his shoulders, and a painfully constricting feeling in his chest.

"I. can't breathe," he gasped out, finding it hard to talk. "I've. . got to get . . some air."

And with that Harry staggered out of the cabin and vomited violently on the grass, choking and gasping for air as he did so, the words of Sybil Trelawney, Albus Dumbledore and Arganual the Chief of the Thestrals running unmercifully through his mind. He finished vomiting after a minute, but continued to stand there hunched over the grass, feeling close to just collapsing, but using all his willpower to stay conscious.

Suddenly he felt a large and comforting hand on his back and shoulder, and he clung to it with his right hand with all his might, now using all his willpower to hold back the tears of fear, pressure and immense responsibility that were threatening to escape him.

He held on to the hand tightly.

After a while he calmed down, his tears safely stored back in his chest having not been shed, and he released Hagrid's hand with shame and embarassment.

"Sorry about that," he said to him, standing up straight and turning round to face Hagrid. "You don't need this. I'll get going now."

Harry turned and began to make his way up the lawn, but Hagrid pulled him back round before he'd even taken two steps.

"Oh, yeh goin' back now are yeh? Not in that state yeh not," he said, and without another word practically picked Harry up and carried him back into his cabin.

"C'mon Fang!" he shouted to his giant Boarhound as he went, who was happily licking up Harry's vomit.

Hagrid pushed Harry back into the sofa he had previously been sitting on and began to bustle around in his kitchen cupboard, muttering to himself as he did so. He emerged half a minute later with a suspicious-looking, un-labelled bottle of swirling pink liquid. He handed it to Harry.

"Here yeh are," he said, "get a mouthful of that down yeh. Trust me, it'll do the trick."

Harry didn't have the strength to argue, and trusting Hagrid took a swig of the swirling pink liquid, which passed smoothly down his throat.

The potion worked instantly, and Harry's stomach stopped churning and his head stopped spinning. He felt refreshed as if he had just had a morning shower, but he nevertheless still had an aching pain in his chest, but that was nothing compared to how much better he now felt.

"Wow Hagrid," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and screwing the cap back on to the bottle of the swirling pink liquid. "This stuff's great! What is it?"

"What, this stuff?" said Hagrid, taking the bottle from Harry and sticking it back in his kitchen cupboard. "Oh, home concoction this is! Jus' Butterbeer and Pepper-Up Potion mixed together, that's all. Gets rid of anythin'; colds, flu, headaches, anythin' at all. Only don' hav' too much of it, it'll make yeh more sick than yeh were teh begin' with."

Harry nodded, still basking in the luxury of feeling so refreshed, and made a mental note to make up a home concoction of his own.

"So then Harry," said Hagrid gently, setting down a cup of tea in front of himself. "What was all that outside? Do yeh want teh talk about it?"

Harry quickly silenced the thought in his head that said yes, he did want to talk about it, and shook his head.

"Er, nah it's alright," he said, trying to sound casual. "Don't want to get all depressed again."

Hagrid gave him an oddly penetrating look.

"Well if yeh sure, Harry," he said quietly, leaning forward in his chair. "Maybe if yeh jus'. ."

"No! Hagrid please, just leave it," Harry said, preventing himself from shouting at the first friend he had ever known. "I just don't want to talk about it, alright? It's not because it's you, I just don't want to talk about it."

Hagrid looked reluctant to just leave it, but nodded in acknowledgement of Harry's wishes. His brow furrowed for a minute, seemingly thinking, and then looked up at Harry with a suprisingly wide grin on his face.

"Did yeh have a good summer 'arry?" he said brightly, still grinning. "I heard yeh knocked ol' Moody an' Kingsley abou' a bit!"

Harry laughed, grateful at Hagrid for breaking the tension inside the cabin, and the two of them spent the next few hours talking about their summers, and many other topics in between.

Hagrid it transpired had had a very eventful summer out on missions for Dumbledore and the Order, missions which started out as "top secret" assignments and eventually turned into highly detailed accounts of adventures he had been on.

His main mission that summer had again concerned the giants. Apparently they had slaughtered their old Gurg Golgomath after he had got too greedy and caused the rest of them to nearly starve, resulting in an revolt against him by the entire tribe, including all of his closest supporters. But then the new Gurg, Gunack, had sparked another revolt by declaring that the whole tribe was going to Britain to become allies of Dumbledore, and the tribe had split, "twenty-one teh twenty-two." Twenty-one of them had stayed in the mountains, and were Voldemort supporters, according to Hagrid.

"That lot can' be help'd now," Hagrid said. "They're all under You-Know-Who's command now; we'll jus' hav' to be glad that they're aren't more of 'em."

The other twenty-two giants had apparently then begun to move down from the mountains, in search of Britain and Dumbledore. Dumbledore had had word of their coming, and had sent Hagrid and Madame Maxime to meet them before they got too far into human-occupied France.

"Course, they remember'd us from before," Hagrid said, his eyes bright. "The one who had translated fer me the first time was their chief now, and he turned out teh be the old Gurg Karkus's brother. We met 'im an' told 'im our message from Dumbledore, an' then would yeh believe it, Dumbledore himself turns up!"

"What?" said Harry incredulously, thrown by this news. "Dumbledore came to see the giants? What did he say to them?"

"He said summat abou' 'avin a 'common enemy and a common goal', 'an then he told 'em that You-Know-Who was gonna 'av 'em all killed as soon as they'd won his war for him. That got 'em goin', and they were all ready teh go find the ruddy lunatic right then and there, and tear him to pieces.

"Dumbledore told 'em however that 'the time was not yet ripe', and that he would call on 'em when the 'time came'. Me an' 'im an' Olympe walked back up in teh the mountains with 'em, avoiding the other lot, and Dumbledore performed a Fidelius Charm over a huge part of the mountains, so the others 'ed never find 'em. He don' reckon they'll be any more in-fighting with 'em anymore, seein' as they all support him, but I'm no' so sure."

"So the giants who support Dumbledore are safe from attack now?" he asked Hagrid, who nodded. "And there's twenty-two of them?"

Hagrid nodded, and Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. He looked up at Hagrid.

"And Voldemort's got twenty-one, right?" he said, and Hagrid nodded again, flinching at Voldemort's name. Harry ignored this and twirled his fingers in front of his mouth, scratching his chin and thinking.

"Twenty-one versus twenty-two," he whispered, "a one-giant advantage. Although Voldemort's probably already got an army of creatures he can use."

Harry looked up at Hagrid for confirmation to this statement, and Hagrid avoided his eyes and began stuttering on about his plans for his lessons over the following year. Harry sighed; that confirms it then, he thought wryly.

"What has he got so far?" Harry asked, and Hagrid's expression turned dark.

"We know that he's got the Vampires all on 'is side," he said grimly. "None of 'em can resist a chance of free food, no matter how much they say they 'live on goat's blood' and nothin' else. He's got Dementors, o' course, hundreds of 'em, and werewolves. Rumour as' it he's been trying teh roun' up some Lethifold's as well. Trolls as well, big ones from the mountains. An' we've heard another rumour that he's been tryin' teh get some Dragons as well."

"Dragons?" said Harry in panic, and Hagrid nodded, looking grim. "Do you know if he's got any yet?"

"It's unlikely," Hagrid said, frowning. "Dragons are all protected under Magical Law, and they've all got charms on 'em teh make sure they don' jus' dissappear. An' if they do get away, they've also go' a charm on 'em which would tell people where they are straight away, an' that . . ."

"And that could lead us to Voldemort," Harry whispered, a sudden feeling of hope in his chest. He looked at Hagrid hard.

"Can you keep me informed of the progress that Voldemort's making on getting some Dragons? Please?"

Hagrid looked suspicious. "Why do yeh wan' teh know so bad?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"Well he's my enemy isn't he?" Harry said, trying to sound as casual as he could be in this kind of situation. "I just want to be kept informed of what he's doing."

"Don' even think about thinkin' abou' goin' after 'im," he said, shaking an enormous finger in front of his face. "That's not fer yeh to do. Yeh just leave that teh others teh do."

Harry sighed. "No one else can do it Hagrid, trust me, I. . ."

Harry stopped, before he let slip the contents of the Prophecy without meaning to. He looked at Hagrid earnestly.

"Will you keep me informed? Please?"

Hagrid, still looking at Harry through suspicious and narrowed eyes, nevertheless promised that he would, and Harry thanked him. Hagrid gave him a grin under his bushy eyebrows.

"Don' let all that about You-Know-Who's troops get yeh down," he said, clapping an enormous hand on Harry's shoulder. "After all, we've go' a much bigger army."

"We've got a. .what? Since when? Of what? How comes I wasn't told?"

Hagrid shook his head at Harry, grinning. He shook his shoulder roughly, but in what was evidently meant to be a playful move.

"Thick as two short planks, yeh are," he said jokingly, and Harry said, "Oi!"

The two of them burst into laughter, and when their laughter over something so unfunny was over, Hagrid gave Harry a disbelieving look.

"Oh come on, 'Arry!" he said, looking exasperated now. "What army do yeh think I'm talkin' abou'? What 'ave yeh tol' me tonight, eh?"

"Oh. . ." Harry said, realisation hitting him hard. "You mean the creatures I have to train, and lead into battle?"

Hagrid nodded seriously. "The creatures o' that Forest aren' no pushover, Harry. Can look after themselves, they can. Look at what yeh've got; yeh've got Thestrals, which are very ferecious when being attacked. Yeh've got Unicorns, who can hurt Lethifold's jus' by lookin' at 'em, because o' them bein' so pure. Not sure if it works with Dementors though. An' then yeh've got the Acromantulas as well; yeh should know that they aren't pushovers."

"Yeah, don't I know it," Harry muttered, remembering his and Ron's encounter with the giant spiders in their second year.

"And yeh've go' Centaurs as well, 'Arry! They might be a bunch of nutty stargazers, but they're ruddy good warriors as well; one o' the most dangerous lot in the whole Forest, they are. An' then there's the creatures that yeh haven't met yet.

"So yeah, I think our armies are goin' teh be a lot bigger than You-Know-Who's will be. Especially with you leading 'em!" Hagrid said, smiling.

Harry faked a smile back and stared unseeingly at the oak cupboard behind Hagrid's armchair, worrying simultaneously about his leadership qualities with the creatures of the Forest and with the size of Voldemort's armies. He did not share Hagrid's optimism that it was they who had a bigger army, and that it was going to stay that way; Harry knew Voldemort, and he knew that he wouldn't give up on expanding his army and his followers for anything. Harry gritted his teeth together, and balled his hands into fists; then I'm not giving up either he thought fiercely, remembering the amount of different races Hagrid said Voldemort had. I'm going to train those creatures until they're all fighting machines, he thought with determination.

"Wan' another cup o' tea Harry?"

Hagrid's words broke through his thoughts, and Harry started. He looked up at Hagrid, bustling away in the kitchen with the teapot.

"Yeah, sure," he said to his back.

It was nearly midnight when Harry finally left Hagrid's hut, and was now completely exhausted from the emotionally draining day he had had. He spent most of the walk back up to the Castle wiping off Fang's drool from his robes, Fang having fallen asleep on Harry's lap with his mouth open earlier.

He reached Gryffindor Tower quickly when he entered the castle, dreaming of sleep as he stood in front of the guardian portrait to the Tower, who was snoring lightly.

"Golden Snitch," he said to the Fat Lady, and the talking portrait opened her eyes slowly.

"Out late for your first day back aren't you my dear?" she said sleepily, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Harry smiled humourlessly at her. She swung forward for him to enter, and Harry climbed into the Common Room.

There were only a few people left in the Common Room when Harry walked in; a couple of third years playing Exploding Snap on the hearthrug in front of the fire, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown messing around with some Tarot Cards on one of the large sofas, and Ron and Hermione snuggled into a corner of the room, quietly doing homework. Harry made straight for them.

"Harry!" Ron said in suprise, as Harry approached the two of them at their small table. "Excellent, you're back. So, what did Hagrid want to talk to you about?"

"Oh, just this and that, nothing serious or anything," he said casually, and Hermione looked up at him suspiciously.

"Then why did he want you to come alone?" she asked, and Harry sighed, acting like she'd caught him out.

"Okay fine, he wanted me to talk about my feelings; you know, about everything that's been happening. He wanted me to talk about it." And, Harry thought, that was strictly true; Hagrid had wanted him to talk about his feelings. He hadn't really lied to Ron and Hermione, he'd just avoided saying a few more things that had happened in his visit to Hagrid. He didn't feel up to telling them about Arganual and Lionheart right now; I'll tell them tomorrow, he vowed.

Hermione nodded, looking pitying, and Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment before looking up brightly.

"Fancy a game of chess Harry?" he asked unconvincly, glancing nervously sideways at Hermione, and Harry nodded, having no intention of playing chess but trying to get his friend out of doing homework after midnight. Hermione sighed and shook her head, but did not object for once about Ron trying to get out of doing his homework. Looking up, she looked startled as she looked at Harry.

"You look exhausted," she said anxiously, and Harry nodded vaguely, his mind on his bed upstairs, and sleep. .

"So did Hagrid mention anything decent?" Ron's voice brutally cut through his lovely dreams of his bed. "Anything about You-Know-Who or the You-Know-What?"

Harry opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"The You-Know-What?" he said, frowning. "What's that?"

Hermione also looked like she wanted to know. Ron pushed his head forwards towards them, so no one else would hear what he said.

"The You-Know-What's the Order," he whispered, shaking his head and grinning. "Honestly, I don't know how I put up with you two sometimes."

"Ha ha," said Harry sarcastically, and Hermione turned to him.

"So Harry, did Hagrid say anything about You-Know-Who or the You-Know-What?"

"Oh he said a few things," Harry said dismissively, and pulled up a stool to sit at their little table, which was littered with quills, parchment, ink bottles and textbooks. "Nothing important really, just trivial stuff. I'll tell you in the morning, I'm too tired right now. So, what homework's this?"

"Thorlaug's," said Ron miserably. "It's unbelievable, this is, ain't it? We've been back a day, and we're already up to our necks in it. Rubbish, it is."

"Well there's a lot of work to get through before we take our NEWTs next year," Hermione said briskly, as she checked the index page of one of her many textbooks. "Remember, this is a two-year course we're on now."

"Yeah, we know," said Ron morosely, moving his parchment out of the way and resting his head on the table. Suddenly he sat up, his eyes wide.

"Blimey, imagine what next year's going to be like, if it's like this now? We'll be drowning in work, don't think I'll be able to cope."

Harry shook his head, opening his eyes with difficulty to talk. "Nah, nor me, I reckon that. . .that. .ohhhh. ." he was cut off from talking by a huge overpowering yawn, which made Ron yawn loudly as well.

"Why don't you get to bed, Harry?" Hermione said, taking her eyes off her textbook and looking at him with a concerned expression. "You look like you're nearly asleep anyway. Go on, get to bed."

Harry nodded, shaking his head to keep himself awake. "Yeah, yeah, I think I'll do that. ."

"And I'll join you!" said Ron brightly, jumping up, before Hermione grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him back down into his seat.

"Oh no you don't, finish taking those notes first," she said sternly, and Ron looked pleadingly at her.

"Oh come on Hermione!" he said weakly. "Harry hasn't even started his yet, and you're letting him go to bed, that's not fair!"

"Well look at him, does he look like he's going to get any work done in that state?" Hermione shot back. "You've only got two pages left, what's the point in leaving them until tomorrow?"

"Because they're only two pages!" retorted Ron, slumping down in his chair. "Oh come on Hermione, it's past midnight for Merlin's sake, and look, I'm really tired. . ."

Ron gave a hugely over-exaggerated and obviously fake yawn, which clearly did not impress Hermione, who crossed her arms sternly, but made Harry laugh. He smiled at the two of them.

"Like an old married couple, you two," he said jokingly, and was suprised when Ron's ears went red and Hermione's cheeks went pink. Hermione quickly mumbled something about needing to do her work and disappeared behind a large textbook that hid her face, and Ron muttered something about Hermione being right about his own work and he too disappeared behind a large book, blocking his face from view, leaving Harry staring at two large books instead of his two best friends. Harry looked at the books, confused.

"Okay, well, I'm going to bed now. . ." he said uncertainly, and the two books in front of him nodded.

"Good night Harry," said one, while the other said, "see you in the morning."

Harry stared.

"Okay. .well, night then," he said, and the two books nodded vigorously again. Harry stood up and slowly made his way to the spiral staircase that led to the dormitories. As he reached the staircase he looked back; the two books were still firmly placed in front of his best friend's faces, although he could see a pair of bright red ears poking out the sides of one of them.

Harry sighed; he really did worry about those two sometimes.

The next morning Harry awoke horribly sleepily at half past five, intending to try his luck in running around the lake. To his great suprise he actually almost managed it, but three quarters of the way round it he physically and mentally couldn't carry on running, resulting in his legs giving way from beneath him and sending him tripping face first into the lake.

Nonetheless Harry returned to the castle refreshed and invigorated by his morning run, feeling comforted, as he had done in the summer, by having a stable routine to stick to. As he squelched through the Entrance Hall, dripping lake water all over the marble floor, he thanked the stars that there was no sign of Professor McGonagall this time.

Halfway up to Gryffindor Tower Harry finally realised that there was such a thing as a drying charm, and performed it immediately, berating himself for not thinking of it earlier. He then took a shower in the sixth year boy's dormitory bathroom when he returned, and was dressed and ready for the day by the time the Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville got up at seven, grumbling and moaning sleepily as they got ready for the day only half awake. Harry decided he'd get up a bit later for his morning run in future, as he lay on his bed bored as Ron slouched around like a zombie looking for his socks, grumbling about house elves moving them at night, and how, "it's a plot of Dobby's, he's stolen them all."

Eventually however Dobby's innocence was proved when Ron finally found his socks (under his pillow, of all places), and he and Harry rushed down to the common room to meet Hermione five minutes late, who, frantic at being late for her first lesson, made them practically run down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

They arrived at the Great Hall at the same time as the morning post, with Harry's Daily Prophet falling apart on the stone floor as the delivery owl flung it unceremoniously at his head as he walked towards the Gryffindor table. Ron saved Hermione from a similar fate and a headache by catching her copy of the Prophet inches from her head, where it would have struck her in the forehead, and calmly passing it to her. As Harry bent down to put the paper back together, he glanced briefly at the main article of the front page of the newspaper: Chaos at Ministry as Fudge's government collapses.

He sighed heavily, and quickly and roughly pulled the paper back together and made his way to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the whispers and stares that had begun with his entrance into the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione were sitting alone at the end of the table nearest to the door, and Harry quickly reached them, sitting down next to Ron and immediately unfolding the Prophet and beginning to read the front page main article. He saw Ron glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

"You read this yet?" Ron asked, pointing to the front page article Harry had been reading.

"Give us a chance," Harry muttered, not taking his eyes off the paper. He read the article quickly, and leaned back and sighed as he finished. It was basically more of the same from yesterday's Prophet, reinforcing what had been said then; that Fudge's reign as Minister of Magic was coming to an end, and that the majority of the British wizarding world had 'lost confidence in Fudge's leadership.' The only real new development was that 'the Ministry's mass state of confusion has been intensified by Minister Fudge's increasingly-insane decision-making, including making anyone who does not agree with him (or who he doesn't like the look of) redundant.'

Harry glanced worriedly at Ron, who was now looking slighty green. He gave Harry a meaningful look, that confirmed to Harry that they were both thinking the same thing; if Fudge was going around sacking everyone he didn't like, then Ron's dad, Arthur Weasley, who was already under suspicion by Fudge for being a close ally of Dumbledore's, would surely be sacked soon. Hermione put a hand on Ron's arm, which seemed to be make him relax immensely, his tense position turning into a more relaxed one.

"Your dad will be okay, Ron," she said soothingly, "he's too important a member of the Ministry for Fudge to sack him, his department would fall apart without him."

Ron nodded morosely, not saying a word and staring down at his newspaper. As he stared at Ron's downcast face, Harry realised that it wasn't only Ron's dad who was at threat by Fudge's pathetic behaviour; there was Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt as well, who had both been suspended in June for charging in to the Department of Mysteries to fight without calling for reinforcements. They're probably at odds with Fudge as well, Harry thought. This could affect the entire Order, he realised, and gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in his frustration with Fudge. The sooner he's out the better he thought savagely.

Harry shook his head, giving Ron a sympathetic look before flicking through the rest of the paper. There were no more major revealations about the chaos at the Ministry, and there was nothing, to Harry's relief, about Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Most of the newspaper was devoted to a 'Household defence guide against the Dark Arts and it's followers.' Harry flicked through it sceptically; he had taught most of the guide to the DA already, and the rest were simple defence spells he had been taught over the summer. There was not one attacking spell in the entire guide; everything was purely defence. I could come up with a better guide than this, he thought derisively, shutting the paper in disgust.

Now there was an idea. . . .

"Harry!"

Harry raised his head quickly and turned around with his hand instinctively on his wand, but relaxed when he saw the person who had shouted his name was only Katie Bell, a Chaser and one of Harry's team-mates on the Gyffindor Quidditch team. She seemed very rushed as she practically ran up to Harry and turned to face him. Harry smiled at her.

"Hi Katie, have a nice. . ."

"Sorry Harry, haven't got long, in a rush," she said impatiently, nodding at him suddenly. "You free Thursday lunchtime?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "Yeah, I am. Why, what do you. . ."

"We've got a meeting," she interrupted him. "Me, you and McGonagall. Need to talk about the plans for the Quidditch team this season. Start of lunch on Thursday, okay? McGonagall's office. Be there."

She turned to hurry off, but Harry stopped her.

"What? Meeting, lunchtime? Quidditch?" he spluttered, confused. "But I don't even know if I'm allowed to play again yet!"

Katie waved her hand dismissively. "Course you can. I asked Dumbledore personally yesterday. He said you can play."

Harry stared at her with his mouth open, not daring to believe it. He could play Quidditch again! He could fly again!

He turned to Ron and Hermione, who were grinning widely at him. He grinned back at them and turned again to Katie, whose hastiness had seemed to momentarily melt away at the look on Harry's face. He opened his mouth to thank her for asking Dumbledore, but nothing came out; he seemed to have lost his voice. Katie smiled at him and gave him a quick hug.

"Congratulations Harry," she said, still smiling. "Can't keep a good Seeker down eh?"

She ruffled his hair, and Harry vaguely put his hand up to stop her, the rest of his mind fixed on the feeling he felt when he was flying, when he was playing Quidditch. . . the pure freedom, of having no worries as he flew through the air. . . the wind, whipping around his robes and hair and cutting into his face. . . the sheer ferocity, the violence and the quickness of the game itself. . .the competition with the other Seeker to catch the Snitch. . .the fluttering wings of the Snitch grasped in his hand. . . the roar of the crowd cheering. . . the celebrations, the excitement, the happiness. . .

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by Katie's laughter, presumably at something Ron had said. She tuned to him and Hermione now.

"Make sure he doesn't walk into any walls on his way to his lesson will you?" she said, and Hermione and Ron laughed.

"Hermione'll take care of him," he said.

"Good," Katie said, nodding. "And remember Ron; Quidditch Pitch, ten minutes."

This brought Harry back to his senses, and he looked inquistively at Ron, as did Hermione. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but. . .

"Oh?" said Hermione sharply to Katie, sounding strangely hostile to Harry's ears as she narrowed her eyes at her. Next to her, Ron looked suprised and confused. "And what are the two of you doing down at the Quidditch Pitch together?"

Ron turned to Hermione to get her to face him, but she kept her eyes firmly on Katie, who seemed nonplussed by Hermione's hostility.

"I'm training him," she said simply. "Needs a decent Chaser to train a decent Keeper, dosen't it? I'm just training him Hermione, that's all."

She gave Ron and Hermione each a knowing look, which made Hermione's cheeks flush pink and Ron look confused, and then slightly alarmed.

"Oh Merlin!" Katie said suddenly, looking at her watch with horrified eyes. "I've got to go see Madam Hooch. Ron, Quidditch Pitch, ten minutes. Harry, Thursday lunchtime, McGonagall's office. Hermione, erm. .have a nice day."

She hurried off before any of them could say goodbye to her. Ron waited until she had left the Hall completely before rounding on Hermione.

"What was that all about?" he demanded, his ears red. "Getting all uppety about us going to the Quidditch Pitch . . .I haven't got a lesson, remember? I'm not skiving!"

"What? Skiving? I never said you were. . .oh, right! Oh yes, I forgot about that, you've got the first two lessons off haven't you?"

Hermione's cheeks were now quite pink, and Harry and Ron were staring at her. Ron nodded slowly to her question.

"Well, you know, it's okay then," she continued hurriedly. "Just as long as you're not missing anything important. Quidditch is important as well, of course. Have a good practice then. Come on Harry, we're going to be late!"

Harry didn't move, but continued to stare at her in shock, as did Ron. Hermione tugged on Harry's arm a few times, but when he just continued to stare at her she gave up and shouldered her bag and marched up the Great Hall towards the double doors. After a few seconds Harry and Ron turned to eachother, confused. Ron shrugged, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"Bonkers," they said at the same time, and they both grinned. "See you at break," Harry said.

Ron mock saluted him, and Harry shouldered his bag and jogged off to catch up with Hermione, abandoning the Daily Prophet on the table, and looking forward to a pleasant double lesson with his favourite teacher.

"NEWT level Potions studies," said Professor Severus Snape coldly, silencing the student's chatter with a look, "is the most advanced subject you will ever study at Hogwarts, bar none. It follows therefore that it is also the most dangerous subject you will be studying, and so, while I am confident safety standards in this class will improve with the absence of such ridiculously inept students as Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan, a Potions classroom is always a potentially harmful place, and so I must warn you now; any misbehaving in this class, any wandering minds, any simple misjudgements, and any persistent spilling of substances; all will be dealt with very severly. And mark my words they will be, if not by myself then by the potions you poison yourself or your classmates with through your carelessness."

Harry, sitting in the back row with Hermione, felt his stomach churn with nervousness.

"Now, most of you here," Snape continued, his lip curling and his gaze lingering on Harry, who glared at him, "have succeeded in achieving an 'Outstanding' grade in your Potions OWL, and so I am going to allow you a certain amount of freedom in your studies."

Snape flicked his wand, and small gold keys appeared on the benches in front of the ten or so students in the class. A small class, Harry noted vaguely, as he picked up the gold key in front of him and examined it idly.

"These keys," said Snape, "are the keys needed to access your own personal supply cupboard of ingriedients, ingriedients which will enable you to brew any potion up to 'Dastardly Dangerous' level. Any potion that you wish to make above that level must only be done so with my consent, and I will provide the ingriedients needed for the potion myself. On no accounts whatsoever is a Potion above 'Dastardly Dangerous' level to be attempted without my personal consent, and failure to follow this rule will result in your expulsion from this class. You have been warned.

"Of course, I will only grant you permission to brew a potion above DD level if I deem it in your ability to make. Some in this class, I fear, will have more difficulty than others in brewing the more elaborate and complex concoctions that the subtle science of potion-making allows, and so it is doubtful that these members of the class will gain my consent to allow them to attempt difficult potions. It is regrettable of course, but personal safety must always come first."

Snape smirked at Harry, and the rest of the class all turned to look at him, knowing that 'these members of the class' only meant Harry. Harry kept his eyes locked on Snape, and felt a familiar feeling of strong determination course through him, cutting off the blood-boiling hate that he felt for Snape at that moment. I'll show you he thought fiercely, neither blinking nor moving his eyes from Snape's for a second. Snape stared straight back, an annoying smirk on his face the entire time.

After a minute it was Snape who looked away first, turning away from Harry to address the class as a whole. The rest of the class turned away too, but Harry continued to glare hard at Snape, and only stopped when Hermione's calming hand on his arm brought him back to his senses. He mouthed thanks at her, and she gave him a look filled with worry and anxiety before turning back to the front of the classroom.

"Of course," Snape was now saying, "in giving you such unrestricted access to ingriedients that you would otherwise find difficult to obtain, I am also giving you a tremendous amount of freedom and responsibility in your studies."

Here Snape paused, and moved around from his desk to the first set of workbenches, looking down on them all with what Harry knew as his most dangerous look. The class sat up straighter.

"I am giving the twelve of you more freedom than I have ever given any of my previous classes," he said now, in a deadly voice that was no more than a whisper, yet travelled around the room suprisingly loudly. "I am giving you this freedom for one reason only; because I believe that almost all of you have the potential to become professional Potion Brewers, and I wish to provide you with the means in which you can achieve this. Do not mistake this gesture for kindness of any sort, or as a sign that I somewhat actually like any of you, perish the thought. Now, open your cupboards, situated at the base of your workbenches."

The class did so quickly, eager to see the contents of their supply cupboards, with Hermione opening hers faster than anyone. She gave a loud squeal of suprise and utter delight as she looked inside, and soon there were similar cries of suprise and astonishment echoing around the room as everyone opened their cupboards. Harry, now quite curious as to what was so amazing about a supply cupboard full of potions ingriedients, quickly opened the small door below him now, and he too gasped in astonishment and suprise at the contents.

The small door gave way to an obviously magically-expanded storeroom nearly as big as the potions classroom itself. Inside the storeroom were many wooden cupboards, boxes and large barrels, leaving only a thin piece of floorway as a pathway. The four walls, from top to bottom, were lined with shelves containing countless numbers of glass jars, tanks, bottles and goblets. Everything was labelled meticulously and clearly.

Harry's jaw dropped. There was no way that Snape had paid for all this by himself, Harry thought scornfully. It would have cost a bomb just for one supply cupboard, let alone twelve of the things. He pulled his head out of his supply cupboard to glare at Snape for lying, and noticed that everyone else's heads were still firmly in their cupboards. Some people, Hermione included, had actually crawled inside their cupboards, and had dissappeared from view. After a sharp command from Snape all withdrew reluctantly from them back into the classroom, Hermione last of all, and with such a strong expression of desire and longing as she slowly climbed out that Harry almost burst out laughing.

"These supply cupboards are extremely expensive," said Snape, "and as such I expect them to be used to their fullest. It is not my intention to limit your access to these ingriedients to only Potions lessons with me. Indeed, I expect each and every one of you down here at least twice a week to concoct potions of your own, preferably with a partner to assist you, should any accidents occur. I will be asking reports from each of you from time to time to ensure that you are all independently brewing your own potions.

"The seats you are sitting in now will be your seats for the next two years, to avoid any juvenile arguments about stolen ingriedients and the like," Snape said, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know that he had Hermione at his side to help him if he screwed up. Snape flicked his wand again, and Harry noticed that a small brass plaque bearing his name appeared above the small door that led down into his supply cupboard.

"Now," Snape said, "today, as ever, will be a practical lesson, one in which we will see clearly see the improvements you will all make in your potions without being burdened to provide assisstance to your dim-witted friends at every turn. Indeed, it is my hope that both you and I will benefit from the absence of simpletons causing simple mistakes and accidents every two seconds, and that you will all achieve higher grades as a result of this."

Harry glared at Snape in defence of Ron and Neville (and himself, he realised guiltily), and he was not the only one, with several other students from various houses all glaring at Snape, presumably because he had insulted their friends. Snape snorted derisively in response to the glares, and carried on speaking.

"Chapter three of your new textbook lists a number of moderately difficult NEWT-level potions, from page nineteen to page thirty-one," he said. "Choose one of these potions, ensuring that you have never made it before, and brew it. I expect a sample of your completed potion on my desk by half past ten at the latest. You will find all the ingriedients you need in your personal supply cupboards. Remember to copy down the essay question from the blackboard. The essay is due in next Tuesday, three feet minimum. You may begin."

And with that Snape turned and swept off into his office, the door slamming behind him.

Hermione immediately opened her textbook and began flicking through it to the pages Snape had indicated, and Harry followed suit reluctantly, more interested in discussing Snape's strange behaviour. He leaned over towards Hermione to talk so no one else would hear him, and nearly got several papercuts in the face for his troubles. He leaned back quickly, well away from Hermione's violent page-flicking, and opted for whispering instead.

"Er, Snape's acting weird, don't you think?" he said uncertainly to Hermione, who he wasn't sure was listening to him; he carried on talking anyway. "I mean, giving us all these huge supply cupboards, and saying that we've all got the potential to become expert Potion Makers; you reckon someone's given him a weak Cheering Charm or something?"

"Well I heard that he's a lot fairer with his NEWT level Potions classes," Hermione said distractedly, her eyes not moving from her book. "You know, all the students who are here now actually want to be here, and I expect that he appreciates knowing that fact, and so he treats us all more fairly. And I doubt the fact that we all did well in our Potions OWL hurts either."

Harry snorted. "Speak for yourself," he muttered.

"Do you think I should do this one, Harry?" said Hermione suddenly, shoving her textbook under Harry's nose. Harry looked down at the page she was pointing at; 'The Dissulus Potion'. He shrugged.

"The Dissulus Potion? If you want, but it's a bit of an easy one for you though, only takes thirty-five minutes to make."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"Oh really?" she said, looking slightly disbelieving at Harry's comment. "And how would you know, Harry?"

Harry felt irritated by her tone of voice, and snapped at her, "I'm not the village idiot you know, Hermione. It is in my ability to know how long it takes to brew an easy potion. It's not hard."

Hermione looked taken aback by Harry's words, and there was a guilty look in her eyes. She leaned towards him.

"That's not what I meant," she said apologetically, looking guiltily at him. "I. . I just meant. . .I just thought you were messing about, is all."

Harry stared hard at her for a minute, in which she squirmed under his gaze, but then he sighed and relaxed, and she breathed heavily in evident relief. Harry looked at her seriously.

"You really should give me and Ron a bit more credit sometimes you know," he said. "We're not as thick as you might think."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry cut her off, holding up his hand.

"It's alright, don't worry about it, just think about what I said. Now," he said, pointing at the page that Hermione had pushed in his face, "the Dissulus Potion is a Concealment Potion; it changes your eye colour to whatever colour you want, just by mentally willing the colour after you've taken the potion. Tonks made me memorise it over the summer. I've made it millions of times, I could do it in my sleep. That's how I know how long it would take to make. Believe me?"

Hermione nodded, still looking guilty, but there was now a bright sparkle of curiousity in her eyes, which harry knew would be hard to avoid. She looked around anxiously for a second before leaning in to Harry and speaking quietly.

"So," she said, "how much did you really learn over the summer? I mean you gave me and Ron a general picture of what lessons you had and everything, but you were very vague about it. Care to elaborate?"

Harry shrugged. "There's not that much to tell really. I got taught spells more than anything, really, tons of 'em. I got taught how to duel properly, and how to defend myself physically. Tonks taught me how to disguise myself as you know, and Snape taught me Occlumency. That's it really. I've got plans to teach a lot of what I learnt to our You-Know-What when we start it up again. Think you can wait that long?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly, looking dissappointed that Harry wouldn't go into more detail on his summer.

"Anyway," Harry said quickly, before she could begin to persist on him telling her what he had learnt, "shouldn't we be getting on with these potions?"

He prodded the textbook in front of him and, as he had predicted, Hermione's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh no!" she moaned, looking panicky. "We've wasted five whole minutes now just chatting, we're completely behind everyone else! Um, okay Harry, give me that."

She pulled Harry's textbook towards her, causing Harry's resting elbow to smash painfully into the workbench.

"Ow!" he said loudly, but Hermione ignored him completely, and flicked to page twenty four in his textbook. She raked the page quickly with her eyes and then turned to Harry.

"Ever made the Epirysus Potion before?" she asked, and Harry shook his head. Hermione nodded.

"Excellent," she said briskly, and pulled her own textbook back towards her. "You do that one then, and I'll do. . . .this one, the Websius Potion. And hurry up Harry, we're behind everyone else now."

Harry said nothing in return, knowing from experience that it was impossible to speak to Hermione when she was in one of her 'Busy Moods', as he and Ron called them. Instead he began to gather his ingriedients together from his supply cupboard, the small door of which magically expanded to allow him entry when he approached it. He then began to brew his potion.

Although he had never made it before, Harry found the Dissulus Potion relatively easy to make, no mean feat considering it was a 'moderately-difficult' potion in seventh year NEWT-level terms. Harry attributed his success to three factors; the extra Potions research he had done over the end of the summer to ensure that Snape didn't humiliate him in his lessons (which he had managed to do anyway), the potion-brewing practice he had had in his lessons with Tonks over the summer, and, as he had found in his Potions OWL exam, the absence of Snape breathing down his neck and insulting him every two seconds.

Harry was first to hand Snape his potion sample when he returned to the classroom from his office at half past ten, putting on his most smug expression and smirking as he did so.

"There you go," he said fiercely, dropping it on the desk in front of Snape, "a perfectly-brewed Dissulus Potion. So much for it being harder for me than for others, eh Sir?"

Snape's only response to Harry's words was for his eyes to flash dangerously and for his hand to move longingly from the desk to his robe pocket, evidently yearning to pull his wand on Harry.

"Stay behind after class Potter," he hissed quietly, and turned away from him to Draco Malfoy, who had now come up to give Snape his potion sample. Harry turned his back dismissively on the two of them and strode back to his desk at the back of the room.

"Good job Harry," said Hermione as he joined her again. She looked impressed, Harry noted. "You brewed that potion excellently."

"Still suprised the village idiot can do it, eh?" Harry said without thinking, and this time Hermione didn't look guilty as she had last time, but angry.

"Harry, what's wrong with you today?" she said, giving him a strange look. "I compliment you on doing well, and all you do is bite my head off! I don't think you're a village idiot for god's sake, and neither do I think Ron is one. And just because you don't see it as much as you'd like, it doesn't mean I don't respect the two of you. And if you're going to be like this all day, please just don't talk to me, talk to the other village idiot, heaven knows you're acting like one!"

Harry looked at her angry profile in suprised defiance for a moment, thinking up a comeback, before sighing heavily, looking down at the floor and rubbing the bridge of his nose, and feeling ashamed at his behaviour. He looked up at her sheepishly.

"I'm sorry Hermione," he said softly to her. "it's just. . .I'm not really getting enough sleep at the moment. It's making me snappy. I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Hermione smiled consolingly at him, and rubbed his arm comfortingly.

"Don't worry about it," she said soothingly, continuing to rub his arm. "Just try and get some more sleep, okay?"

Harry nodded, promising that he would, and Hermione smiled at him and opened up her mouth to speak.

"You really need to sleep to know Harry, I know it might. . ."

"Miss Granger!" Snape's cold voice came cutting across Hermione's soothing one. "Your sample, please."

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm before going up to give Snape her potion sample. Harry shook his head to bring himself back to reality, and quickly packed up his ingriedients. The bell rung as Hermione returned, and Harry said he'd catch up with her and Ron next lesson, as Snape wanted to talk to him. She gave him a nervous look. "Don't lose your temper Harry," she warned, and Harry promised that he wouldn't. She gave him a doubtful look before leaving the classroom alone.

Harry waited until the classroom had emptied completely before approaching Snape's desk, where Snape was sitting rigidly in his chair following Harry with his eyes. Harry sat down in the chair opposite Snape and looked back at him impassively, feeling calmed by his and Hermione's earlier conversation.

"Well well Potter," Snape said, running a quill through his long, pale fingers as he spoke, "it seems that you have finally achieved a measure of success in brewing a potion. I must commend you; it has only taken you five years to manage it."

Harry said nothing, but balled his hands into fists below the desk, the calmness Hermione had briefly granted him with effectively gone. Snape leaned forwards over the desk, towards Harry.

"You are in this class for one reason, Potter," he said icily, his eyes glittering, "and that is because of your interfering head of house. I assure that if I had my way, you would not even look at another potion for the rest of your life. Furthermore. . ."

"Is this why you kept me behind Professor?" interrupted Harry loudly. "The point is I am here now, and so everything you've just said is pointless information. So is this why you've kept me behind? So you could tell me loads of rubbish about how I'm an idiot, and how much you hate me? Because quite frankly, Sir, I've got better things to do with my time."

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously, and he stood up and leaned over the desk so that his and Harry's noses were almost touching, the loathing in his eyes startling Harry slightly.

"You are toeing a very thin line Potter," Snape hissed at him, his eyes maleveont as they glared at him, "and you are severely testing my patience. Your favouring head of house may have got you in this class, but believe me when I say that she has no power whatsoever to keep you in it, should I feel that there is a legitimate reason to dismiss you from it. Insolence, Potter, I feel is a very legitimate reason to dismiss someone from my class. So, from now on, please keep your ridiculous juvenile comments and attitude to yourself, for all our sakes. You benefit no one, least of all yourself."

Harry, with a great effort, gave no outward reaction to Snape's words, and did not answer him back. After a minute of fierce denial he cleared his head and sighed inwardly, accepting grudgingly that maybe there was some reasoning to his hated professor's words. He did not let Snape see this acceptance, however.

Snape was now roughly throwing Harry a scroll of parchment, which he caught instinctively before it hit him in the face.

"These are the details of your OWL repeat in January," Snape said impassively. "It highlights what areas you should concentrate on in your revision, and so forth. The conditions of your three-week trial period in this class will depend on the level of your work over the next three weeks, both practically with your potions, and theoretically with your essays and research. That is all. Now get out of my sight."

"With pleasure," Harry snarled, and shouldered his bag and strode quickly out of the Potions classroom, away from Snape, and up to the library, his blood boiling and his head throbbing with hatred for Snape. He attempted to calm his mind and use Occlumency to clear it as he walked, causing him to trip up several times in the process, which just made him even more angry.

By the time he reached the library however he had calmed down considerably, and managed to read a further ten pages of Secteral Spell Creation (by Sebastian Mobrow) by the time the bell went, the sound of which forced him to hurriedly exit the library and leave his book wide open on the table, his mind filled yet again with a strong determination to create the spell to defeat Voldemort as quick as he could.

The rest of the day passed quickly for Harry. His first Healing lesson with Healer Elfrida was cancelled for some unknown reason (which gave Harry another two hours in the library), Hagrid's new creatures had not yet arrived for their Care of Magical Creatures (so they spent the time chatting), and after lessons Harry sat with Ron and Hermione and wrote the Potions essay Snape had set in their lesson ('discuss the extent to which the Draught of Living Death can be considered a lethal and dangerous potion'). At half past seven they all went down to the Great Hall for dinner, with Harry beginning to feel nervous about his duel with Vanya in less than an hour.

"So why Vanya's so bothered about you doing your best in lessons?" Ron said inquistively as the three of them sat down at the Gryffindor table and began to pile their plates with food. Ron and Hermione did, at least; Harry was feeling too nervous to each much, and settled on a few chips. He shrugged at Ron's question.

"No idea. Probably something to do with me being the hero of the wizarding world, and everyone wanting me to be as strong as I can," he said bitterly, stabbing his fork into his chip savagely. "Yeah, that makes sense doesen't it?"

Ron and Hermione did not answer him, but looked uncomfortably down at the floor and avoided Harry's eyes. The next few minutes were spent eating in silence, before. . .

"Do you think you can beat him?" Ron said suddenly, and he and Hermione looked at him curiously. Harry thought about it for a second.

"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "I mean I've never seen him in a real Duel, so I don't know how good he really is. Then again, I have beat Kingsley before, and he and Vanya are partners as Aurors, so I might have a cha. .

"You beat Shacklebolt in a duel?" Hermione said suddenly, staring at him incredulously, as was Ron. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, in the summer. Beat him four times," he said, proud of this achievement. Ron and Hermione stared at him even more incredulously. "Never beat Moody though, he was too good."

"You need to give me and Hermione a proper explanation of what you did over the summer," Ron demanded, still looking extremely shocked at Harry's revealation that he had beaten Kingsley. "I mean, how much must you have been taught to have beaten an Auror in a Duel?"

Harry shrugged. "I had ten-hour lessons every day," he said, remembering how freqeuently knackered he had been when he had collapsed in bed every night in the summer, "you're sure to learn a lot when you're being taught like that, aren't you?"

"Well of course you are, but you still didn't answer our question," Hermione said. "Are you going to give us a proper explanation of your summer then?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah of course I will, just not right now okay? It's quarter to eight now, I better get going."

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry stood up, his stomach churning slightly. He glanced up at the staff table as he did so, and noticed that Vanya was not there. He swallowed.

"Good luck Harry," said Ron next to him, patting him on the back supportingly, and Harry nodded at him. Hermione looked up at him as well.

"Just try your best, Harry," she said, and Harry nodded at her as well. Ron turned to her.

"What do you mean 'just try your best Harry'?" he said. "He's beaten Kingsley Shacklebolt, who is an Auror, no less than four times, Hermione. Do you really think he's going to lose?"

"I never said he was going to lose," snapped Hermione back. "All I said was that he should try his best, and that doesen't necessarily mean I think his best isn't good enough to beat him, does it? But you just hear what you want to from a conversation Ron, don't you?"

"Why would I want to hear something like that?" Ron retorted, and Harry cleared his throat quickly to shut him up. Both Ron and Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes, looking suprised that he was still there. Harry fought down a laugh

"I'm going now, okay?" he said. Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Good luck Harry," said Ron. "I know you'll beat him," he said, narrowing his eyes at Hermione, who appeared nonplussed by this. She looked up at Harry.

"Just try your best, Harry. Which, might I add, I feel is good enough to beat Vanya," she said quickly, before Ron could say anything. Harry grinned at her and Ron.

"Thanks. I'll see you in the common room later, okay?"

"Of course," said Hermione, "we'll wait up for you."

Ron nodded in agreement, and Harry, taking a deep breath, turned and walked out of the Great Hall, into the Entrance Hall, and up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Okay, he told himself as he walked, don't be nervous, you're no pushover, you've Duelled Death Eaters and beat them, you've Duelled Aurors and beat them, including Kingsely Shacklebolt, who's an amazing Dueller, and. . .now there's an idea!

Checking no one was looking, Harry turned sideways into a shadowy corridor and held his right hand up to his face, where a silver ring was situated on his finger in front of his mouth.

"Narro Kingsley Shacklebolt," he whispered to the ring.

There was nothing for a few seconds, but then suddenly Harry could hear the Auror's slow, measured voice in his ear, speaking as if he was standing right in front of Harry. Harry started at the strange sensation.

"Good evening Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice said in his ear, "to what do I owe this pleasure? Is there anything wrong?"

"Er, wrong?" said Harry out-loud, feeling a bit stupid. "Um, no, nothing's wrong, I just need some tips."

"Tips?" said Kingsley, sounding slightly wary. "Tips for what, Harry?"

Harry sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on doing anything stupid like going after Voldemort," he said wearily, and Kingsley answered immediately.

"I am glad to hear it. So then, what do you need tips for then?"

"A Duel," answered Harry. "I have to Duel Vanya. .sorry, Professor Vanya, in, hold on. . . ten minutes, and I was wondering if you had any tips on how to beat him. You know, considering how you've been Auror partners for so long and all. Have you got any?"

There was silence for a few seconds, in which Harry tapped his ear as if it was broken, before Kingsley answered him.

"Harry, Mahan's. .sorry, Professor Vanya's Duelling style is a lot like your own; it is based on sharp calculation, speed, and power. Now, as you know from fighting me throughout the summer, my style is based on patience and deliberate miscalculation, as well as turning my opponent's strength against him or her. You have Duelled me, and indeed beaten me, enough times now to have a firm grasp on this style, which may now come in useful against your professor. My tips to you for defeating Professor Vanya, Harry, are thus; you either attempt to win by outmatching him in speed, calculation and power, as is your wont when Duelling; or you adopt my style of Duelling, and attempt to turn his own speed and power against him. Both are risky strategies Harry, considering you have never Duelled against him before, but they are your best hope of defeating him. Personally, I would reccomend that you adopt my style for this duel. As I have told you before Harry, power and speed are useless when faced with someone who simply turns them against you, and your professor has not once beaten me in a Duel when I have used this style. However, I know it is not in your nature to fight a duel in such a way, but this is my advice; take it or leave it."

Harry nodded, although he knew that Kingsley could not see him do so. "Thank you for your advice, Sir; but you already know which strategy I'm going to go for."

"I do," said Kingsley, sounding amused. "All I can do then is wish you luck. Can I request that you call me afterwards to let me know how it turned out?"

"Of course," Harry replied. "I've got to go now though, I'm going to be late."

"Certainly Harry. And good luck."

"Thank you Sir," Harry said, and lowered the ring from his mouth, effectively cutting off his communication with Kingsley Shacklebolt. He jogged the rest of the way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Professor Vanya was leaning against his desk facing the door when Harry entered, with all the tables and chairs already pushed up against the walls. His eyes locked on Harry's immediately, and he withdrew his wand. Harry did the same.

"Mr Potter," said Vanya, nodding at him. "Very punctual, I see. Now, if I feel that you are holding yourself back this time, I will not hesitate in dismissing you from my class. You are not to hold yourself back in any way whatsoever. There are only two rules in this Duel; no Dark Arts Spells, and no Unforgivables. Do we understand eachother?"

Harry nodded, not interested in talking but just wanting to get on with it. He rolled up his sleeves and walked down the classroom towards Vanya, who in turn stood up straight and walked up the classroom towards him.

They met in the middle of the classroom, and bowed to eachother, neither taking their eyes off the other's face. They then both turned and took five paces back from eachother, making them ten feet apart. Harry raised his wand high above his shoulder, and Vanya did the same. He began the countdown.

"One . . . two . . . three. . .Prosterno!"

"Vapulus!" Harry cried at the same time, and the spells collided with eachother in the middle of the classroom and richochetted around the classroom, smashing into tables and chairs and knocking things flying. Harry and Vanya ignored all this and began to circle eachother, both their wands raised.

"Everbero!" Vanya cried suddenly, but Harry sidestepped the spell easily.

"Durus Pulsus!"

That one Harry was not expecting, and he barely avoided it hitting him in the thigh by turning sideways, pointing his wand at Vanya at the same time as he turned.

"Durus Pulsus!" he cried, and Vanya barely put up a shield in time to deflect the spell.

"Noceo!" Harry cried immediately afterwards, and his spell hit Vanya in the shoulder, making him stagger. That was all though, and he immediately came back on the offensive.

"Stupefy!"

Harry deflected the spell with his wand and sent it back to Vanya, who sidestepped it quickly and pointed his wand at one of the tables in the corner.

"Animatus Canis!"

The table transfigured into a large boarhound, which went immediately for Harry, who didn't waste any time.

"Abolesco!" he said, turning himself invisible for thirty seconds and stepping sideways, making Vanya's quickly-fired disarming charm miss him. The dog, confused at Harry dissappearing, stopped short, and then turned and ran at Vanya.

"Evanesco!" Vanya said casually, and the snarling boarhound dissappeared in a black puff of smoke. He pointed his wand at himself.

"Munimentum," he said, and Harry cursed; Vanya had created a shield all around himself, which made the prospect of catching him by suprise by his invisibility redundant. Just going to have to destroy it then, Harry thought, wiping his sweating brow as he pointed his wand at Vanya's circular purple shield.

"Eradico!"

Harry's spell shattered Vanya's shield completely, but caused no harm to Vanya himself. In addition Harry turned visible again as the spell made impact, and Vanya quickly pointed his wand at him.

"Minuo!"

The spell caught Harry's left forearm, and he felt the skin there split open and blood quickly soak his arm as the wound took hold. Gritting his teeth, he pointed his wand at Vanya.

"Penetro Sopor!"

"Declino!"

Vanya's deflecting spell knocked Harry's spell into a chair, which Vanya quickly ducked behind. Harry quickly pointed his wand at it.

"Exussum!"

The wooden chair went up in flames immediately, and Vanya vanished it and jumped backwards, pointing his wand at Harry.

"Propero Fluvius!"

A stream of water came pouring out of Vanya's wand extremely fast, hitting Harry in the face and blinding him momentarily. He jumped aside from it and cast an all-around shield around himself quickly, feeling a spell from Vanya bounce off it as soon as he had done so. He pointed his wand at Vanya and cast a stunning spell, and wasn't suprised when it was deflected easily. Harry reinforced his shield, and began to circle Vanya again.

Harry knew he was struggling now; he was soaking wet, his left forearm was bleeding profusely, and he was completely on the defence. Vanya, on the other hand, was bone-dry, and his only injury was his right shoulder which Harry had hit earlier, and which he frequently rubbed with his left hand when he had the chance. Harry knew that this duel was going to have to end soon; either he came up with a strategy to defeat Vanya quickly, or Vanya would send one simple spell and he would be done. Think Potter, he said to himself, still circling Vanya. Think. . .

"Eradico!"

The spell caught Harry by suprise, but luckily his shield protected him from harm, the shield itself shattering on the impact. Lucky that spells not anymore powerful than it already is, Harry thought vaguely, as he sidestepped a disarming charm. And then it clicked.

That's it!

Well, it's worth a shot Harry thought grimly, as he deflected another one of Vanya's spells. Come on then Potter, he thought firmly, circling Vanya again, let's go then.

Filled with new determination, Harry deflected another spell with his wand, forcing Vanya to jump sideways, giving Harry a chance.

"Expelliarmus!"

Vanya ducked the spell however, but Harry was ready.

"Stupefy!"

Vanya jumped backwards from his position on the floor and stood up quickly, pointing his wand at Harry again.

"Propero Fluvius!"

Harry wasn't caught by suprise this time though, but sidestepped immediately and pointed his wand at the water still streaming towards him.

"Crudesco!"

The stream of water froze in the air, turning immediately to ice and falling heavily to the ground, where it shattered loudly. Harry jumped further to the side to avoid the shards flying everywhere, and Vanya was forced to put up an all-around shield. Harry grinned and raised his wand.

"Eradico! Expelliarmus!"

Harry's plan worked. His first spell shattered Vanya's shield, and his following disarming charm hit Vanya square in the chest, making his wand fly forwards into Harry's left hand, while Vanya himself went flying backwards into the tables and chairs at the side of the classroom, cracking his head on the side of a table and falling to the floor unconscious. Harry dropped both his and Vanya's wands, panting heavily and holding his bleeding arm painfully, and collapsed to the ground as well, falling unconsious in a matter of seconds.