Note from Catc10: I had to BEG my friend to write something for me, because she writes good and she helped me come up with an idea in the first place for this entire thing and it only felt right. So, yeah. Bonus Ending! ME.
Justin, on the other side of the hall, was looking around with squinty eyes for the source of his pain. Ron, in a state of total emotionlessness, thought that he should have expected as much from Justin. The other boy was incredibly perceptive of psi magic in general, which made up for his relative weakness in other fields. Vaguely, Ron felt a little bad that his jumping had given his teammate such a headache, but his mind was more directly focused on the battle ahead. Now that he'd jumped to the seventh level (and that realization had only surprised him for a moment), he didn't need the Psi Council's permission to lead his teams into the fight. In all truth, he could lead every psi in the entire world against Voldemort, simply because he was the only one to reach the sight in- what, three thousand years?
In some corner of his mind, Ron wondered at the total lack of emotion to his thoughts, but it didn't really bother him. With the sight and the accompanying flood of power, all his feelings had been washed away. He sort of felt them behind his conscious mind, chugging along as usual, but in the coming fight they would only get in the way. And besides, Ron felt he was rather in agreement with himself- as strange as that sounded.
Calmly, Ron glanced over the hall, and was pleased- as much as that feeling could get- to see that most of Skull Squadron had been held back from the battles outside. Quite complacent, he approached Dumbledore and the other teachers where they had set up their temporary command center. With an experienced ear he listened in on their conversations and noted all the mistakes they were making out of haste or ignorance, and marked everything he would have his team fix. Then he stepped in.
"Professor Dumbledore, I think I can help you," he said, startling Snape and McGonagall, who hadn't noticed him.
"No, Mr. Weasley, I think it's best if you stayed here," Dumbledore told him, though Ron suspected- again, in that deep corner of his mind- that Dumbledore had been a little startled by his apparent lack of passion. "You don't have enough experience at your age to fight in a battle like this," Dumbledore continued.
Ron opened his mouth to say something, to protest or point out some of the holes in their plans, but Snape cut him off. "Mr. Weasley, you heard the Headmaster, now do as you're told."
"It's for your own safety, "McGonagall added more kindly.
Ron would have sighed, if he'd been less calm. Instead he mumbled a 'yes, Professor' and walked off. He immediately asked to go to the boy's room, then switched his direction once he was out of sight and headed to the Hall of the Psi, changing into his robes as he went. Hopefully, Harry wouldn't use the Marauder's Map to check his location. Ron knew the Hall wasn't on the Map- he'd looked once, to be absolutely sure- but it would be a puzzle if Ron was just floating in empty space on the paper, or something equally unexplainable.
As soon as he reached the Hall, Ron called the entire Squadron immediately to him. He didn't bother to send a warning to those in the Great Hall above, just pulled them right into the room using his own new and incredible power. For those in the battle on the grounds outside, he put a need in their minds, identifiable to most as a call by their leader, to be in the Hall of the Psi as soon as possible. For the Muggles, who knew nothing of the battle, he gave the same prompting- a feeling deep in your bones that you needed, above all else, to go the Hall. Within a few minutes, everyone was assembled, though only Ron wore his robes. Most of the Psi found it a rather eye-opening experience.
A loud clamor had begun, everyone asking what was going on and what this Slytherin or that Muggle thought they were doing there. Ron called for order silently by waving his hand and putting everyone in his or her robes. As he ascended the dais, the students calmed down and watched him exclusively.
"We are under attack," he said quietly, though no one had trouble hearing him. "Not the Psi, though we are the cause of the attack. In the school above us, the students are fighting to protect the power that runs through our veins, though I only discovered this a short time ago. Still, I intend to fight," he continued, "and I now have the authority to do so."
Once he'd said this, people started noticing the pupil in the center of his mark, which before had gone unnoticed, used as they were to his authority. But even the newest blind one was taught the history and traditions of the Order, and all gasped at the significance of that little bit of color. No one questioned him. This was not only a matter of tradition; it was a matter of life and death for all of them. The unworthy simply didn't achieve the sight.
Ron quickly divided the Squadron into groups, according to their different strengths instead of by Sept. He laid out his immediate battle plan, using the knowledge he'd gleaned from eavesdropping on the professors, and by asking those who had just come from the grounds what they knew about the battle above them. Then he sent them on their way, noting pleasantly, with that small bit of himself that observed everything going on, that everyone had quickly forgotten their own identities and the identities of their comrades, once things became serious. Just to be sure, he carefully erased everyone's specific recollections of who they had seen just then. There was a time and a place to spill all secrets, and it was soon, but this was not it.
Once everyone had left to the grounds above, Ron dismembered his robes and returned to the Great Hall. He used a bit of power to continue eavesdropping on the professors and keep in touch with his commanders, receiving reports and giving covert orders. His goal was to help without being seen, at least for now.
Even the barest command of Psi was more useful than a wand in this fight. Death Eaters were sucked into rock that turned as liquid as quick sand, and peaceful streams became torrents of raging water to drown the invaders when they weren't looking. The air compressed in their throats, and the very trees and plants of the grounds bent down and swept the evil wizards into the sky. From afar, the more experienced users of the Psi Sept used their raw power to drive some of the men insane. War was never pretty, but now that nature was answering the plea of her guardians, the havoc of this battlefield was unmatched.
Ron observed from the Great Hall, seemingly staring into space, utterly emotionless. A space had appeared around him, as the other students, all his own age and younger, picked up unconsciously on the power he was radiating and avoided him. Ron didn't notice. He cast his gaze over the oncoming battle as it approached the actual castle building, searching for the means by which the Dark Lord had traced their powers.
His gaze swept over the creeping front line, but there was nothing. Then the leader of Aqua Sept drew his attention beyond the line, to a clearing by the lake. The Dark Lord stood there, along with a sniveling wretch of a man. Ron let his 'sight' fall on the man, ignoring the Dark Lord for the moment. He noted dispassionately that the thing was really only a boy, a little older than Ron himself was; what was of more interest to him was the boy's mind. The poor child had incredible sensitivity to Psi power. His metaphorical nose for the natural energy made Justin Flinch-Fletchy's look puny by comparison. Ron realized with regret that the unnatural sensitivity had driven the boy insane. He knew only his special senses, and that the Dark Lord would not hurt him if he used it.
Ron carefully covered the boy's mind with his power, blocking his sensitive perception and immersing the boy in a painless euphoria of peace. He cut off the connection between the boy's mind and body, isolating his consciousness, but then sighed in defeat. He'd hoped to save the poor boy, but there was nothing of his original self left inside him; he'd been held too long under the control of the Death Eaters and his own mind. Ron gently released his consciousness, leaving the jerking body to fall soulless to the ground. It was the only rest the boy might find on this world, and Ron gave it to him gladly.
As the body collapsed to the ground, the Dark Lord looked around, puzzled and maybe a little afraid. Ron looked with unnatural dispassion on the once-man's figure. His own repressed emotional self felt a bit of empathy for Harry, that his friend had to deal with this creature so much, and also regret that Harry wouldn't get his own revenge on the thing that had killed his parents. Then Ron- the powerful, calm Psi Master that Ron had become- reached with his power and severed the tie between the Dark Lord's body and his spirit.
Ron had hoped that this might be the end, but he hadn't really expected it to be so. Voldemort had worked hard to make sure no wizard could defeat him. As his former body fell to the ground beside the body of the boy he'd enslaved, his spirit gravitated back towards it, trying to re-enter the flesh. Ron was having none of that. He built a shield around the two bodies lying on the ground and sent word to his followers to shield all the bodies of the dead to prevent the Dark Lord from fleeing directly there. Unfortunately, they couldn't shield every soul-less form in the world. Quickly Ron formed a second shield around the spirit-shape of the Dark Lord. It was more difficult to hold, and needed more power to work, but Ron tenaciously supported it.
Voldemort's spirit pushed desperately against the shield, beginning to shrivel into nothingness. It tried to possess a snake form, but Ron banished that as quickly as the Dark Lord could form it. Dying now, the Dark Lord made one last push for freedom, throwing all of its power onto the shield around it.
His mind held, but back in the Great Hall, the body he'd slipped out of was causing a ruckus. To those watching, Ron, who had appeared either blank with shock or asleep, suddenly howled in pain, clapping his hands to his forehead, which glowed an unnatural blue beneath his fingers. His soul writhed with the power of the Psi, trying to find a balance and keep the Dark Lord's spirit trapped at the same time.
Finally, it ended. The Dark Lord's spirit had vanished. In the Great Hall Ron's body collapsed, twitching, but Ron's mind was still out in the forest by the lake. He carefully examined the area and the bodies of the fallen, then eliminated all trace of Voldemort's previous form. Hopefully, that had done it.
He let his consciousness slip back into his body in the Great Hall, blinking at the tingling all through his veins. Around him stood a ring of younger students, and he could hear the professors approaching, yelling for everyone to get out of the way. He sat up just as McGonagall pushed through the crowd and crouched beside him.
"What's happened here, Mr. Weasley?" she demanded. Still in his utterly calm state, Ron decided to play dumb.
"I don't know, Professor," he began, putting on a breathless and confused front with ease, "my head just got all scrambled and painful all of a sudden." He lowered his voice. "Has somebody died?" He whispered, looking convincingly scared.
"We shall see," McGonagall stated severely. "In the meantime, I will be taking you to the hospital wing and putting you in the care of Madam Pomfrey until this is over and we can determine what has happened. Can you stand up?" She asked him, more kindly, and Ron nodded and pushed himself up off the floor. The students parted in front of them as McGonagall led him away from the Great Hall. Ron noted out of the corner of his eye that Dumbledore was watching them leave.
In the hospital wing, he allowed Pomfrey to baby him and put him in a bed, then pretended to go to sleep. Eyes closed, he let his Psi sight drift over the battleground. Voldemort had been in the back as the Death Eaters moved on, so no one on the other side knew that their leader was defeated. Ron kept an eye out in case the Dark Lord had somehow survived, but was relieved to see nothing. He observed how the battle continued.
Skull Squadron was taking off a significant percentage of the Death Eater forces, but because they were trying not to be seen, no one was really noticing what was happening. The Psi forces were eating holes in the reserves and the rear troops of the other side, as well as covertly saving the wizards on their side from disaster. Neither side had actually noticed the presence of the Psi, and only the Death Eaters were beginning to notice the absence of their comrades behind them.
It wasn't enough though. The attacking lines were still too thick; the defending forces were too weak and unskilled. He noticed with approval that the leaders were taking more risk of being seen to do more good on the field. They were very well prepared for this.
Although most of the Psi out there were students of various ages, not all were of a young age. Some had been members of Skull Squadron far longer than Ron had been Skull-One. There were adults out there, both Muggle and Wizard, who had been using nature's power since before Ron had even been born. But that didn't matter so much as your level did. When in other organizations a young, inexperienced, but high-ranking leader might be disastrous, in the Order of the Psi, rank and power were given, without fault, by merit. Some Psi would never get past third level, because they lacked either the power or the wisdom to increase. If a three-year old reached the seventh level, all Psi would follow the child without question. It was difficult to grasp the concept, but the levels were awarded by the power of nature itself to those who would use them well. No one who was not ready to proceed would do so, no matter what that person or the rest of the world believed of them. If Ron had achieved the seventh level, it was because the earth had deemed him worthy, and no Psi would question that. Thus, when he advanced quickly through the ranks of Skull Squadron, he took leadership with no trouble from either himself or his new subordinates.
Outside, a Muggle eight-year-old boy at level four supported a young witch who was at level two, graduated just a few years ago from Hogwarts and Slytherin by nature. They held an easy camaraderie of long-time friends, though they would never see or speak to each other outside of the meetings of Skull Squadron. Their differences in the real world were never spoken of, and in the Order each person was welcomed easily, no matter their comparative strength.
Ron turned his eyes back to the battle and the matter at hand. The Psi would have to do something much more drastic and effective if the day was to end with Hogwarts still standing. The Psi were safe, but only he knew that, and the battle continued still. Ron sighed. He opened his eyes and sat up in the bed, looking around. There was no one in the wing, but Madam Pomfrey was nearby in her office. When Ron spread out his senses, he could see Harry and Hermione waiting anxiously outside the door to the hospital wing. There would be no getting out of here in secret unless he used his Psi power.
Ron shook himself to clear his mind. Pomfrey heard the motion and swept in to ask him how he was feeling, but Ron was already out of the bed and standing. Before Pomfrey could protest, he spoke. "May I have my clothes?" He asked politely. Pomfrey stuttered, then pulled herself together.
"Mr. Weasley, you should be asleep," she demanded. "I insist that you get back in bed."
"No," Ron told her. The door burst open, and Harry and Hermione charged in. They'd probably heard him speaking and decided to ignore the rules and come see him. Ron felt vague feelings of appreciation, but his emotions were still being repressed by his battle-mode self.
"Ron, are you alright?" Hermione asked.
"What happened down there?" Harry added.
"I'm fine," Ron said calmly. "Madam Pomfrey, I'm leaving now," he continued to the nurse. "May I have my clothes?"
"What?" Hermione and Harry exclaimed.
"Never mind, "Ron said, and donned his Psi robes. Before anyone could move, he froze everyone so that they couldn't move or speak. Harry and Hermione were staring at him, and Pomfrey was trying to say something, her eyes bugging out. "Sorry about this," Ron told them, a bit like his old self. Then the feeling drained from his face, and he pulled up his hood. He strolled to the window and looked out at the battle below. Behind him, he felt the eyes of the others following him. He didn't care. It was too late now.
He opened the window and casually crumpled the bars with a wave of his hand. Standing on the sill, he pinpointed the position of the nearest Sept leader and jumped. As he fell he released his hold on the hospital wing above, though he locked the door as an afterthought. Even with his emotions repressed, he could feel enough to worry about his friends and keep them in a protected place. Hermione screamed as soon as the block fell.
Ron glided through the air, coming to a graceful stop behind a stand of trees with a gathering of Earthian Sept youngsters, interspersed with members of the Aqua and Faile Septs. The Earthian Alpha was there, directing the lower-leveled youths in attacking the enemy from behind. As soon as Ron hit the ground, she sensed him, and immediately turned to receive orders.
"How's it going?" Ron requested, falling into his Skull-One persona. The Muggle freshman gave a rapid report of her activities, and Ron listened raptly. It was as he'd suspected. "We're doing well," he told her, "but we can't keep these tactics up if we hope to win this war. Do whatever it takes. I'm authorizing you to be seen and not worry about wiping memories later, if you have to. Secrecy is not something to die for, not today at least. We need to take this battle to them." The young woman nodded and called in her young troops, giving new orders. Ron listened for a moment before he moved on.
By traveling through the soil and roots of the forest, he easily got through the battle lines, dragging down as many Death Eaters as he could on the way. He was vaguely surprised at the number of supporters Voldemort had managed to turn out for this battle, and wondered how many might be under the Imperious curse right now. Ron knew that the thought would make him cry later, when the battle was over and he could afford to feel anything, but at the moment he only found it unfortunate that so many innocents might be caught in a battle, with no time to check and see who was under someone else's control and who was acting independently. He met with the Pyro Sept Alpha, a sixth year Hufflepuff commanding a force of half Pyro, half Aqua third-levels. Ron took a report and gave the older boy the same instructions that he was passing to all the Sept Alphas, then went on his way. In a quarter of an hour, the battle's tide had turned in the favor of the wizards, who were too scared for their lives to question the open aid of their white-clad supporters.
The Death Eaters didn't stand a chance. The members of the Order worked seamlessly together with their fellows, accommodating the regular wizards and witches, who were far less used to working with total strangers. Ron simply strode along the battlefield, taking out any enemy who got in his way. His favored tactic was to simply freeze them where they stood, take off their mask, snatch their wand and stick it in the ground, encourage the piece of wood to grow into a tree around its former owner, and move on. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of Death Eaters, unmasked, trapped within the trunk of a magically grown, mystically inclined tree that didn't particularly like them. Any Earthian could get them out later, but until then, they were stuck.
Ron was beginning to think that losing their secrecy had finally won them the battle, when he encountered a thick knot of Death Eaters. In their center stood one masked Death Eater, but over his shoulder was slung a blood-red sash. Ron recognized the body as Lucius Malfoy's, but the mind was not his. If Ron's feelings had been less under control, he would have cursed. As it was, he merely slammed a powerful prison of energy around the entire group. Voldemort was possessing Malfoy.
Ron didn't know how the Dark Lord had gotten away, but he didn't intend to let it happen again. He carefully scanned the mind and soul of every man in the group, and noticed his major mistake. Voldemort had bound his soul to that of his most trusted servants. He had escaped to Malfoy's body, suppressing the original soul and taking complete control. At least five other Death Eaters in the group were similarly linked. Ron carefully picked apart each thread and incapacitated all the other Death Eaters, leaving Voldemort alone in Malfoy's body.
Ron pushed all the other Death Eaters out of the shield, leaving his followers to take care of them. Wizards and Psi alike were finishing the last of their opponents and gathering around the glowing blue orb that encircled their most powerful enemy and his sole opponent. He felt all the Psi feeding their power into the shield and gratefully took back some of his own strength. Some of the brighter wizards, Ron's own brothers among them, placed regular wizards' shields over the Psi block, adding to its already impressive power.
Malfoy- Voldemort- cackled half-fearfully as he confronted his unknown opponent. Already once defeated, he stood stripped of his back up plan, and knew that this was the one who had come to him the first time. He knew also that his enemy had learned from his past mistake. There could be no getting out of the fight this time.
Ron knew exactly what was going on in Voldemort's mind. Before starting the fight, he called all attention to himself, to make sure that everyone there would know how monumental this battle would be. He pushed a miniscule amount of power into his amethyst ring, causing it to pulse brightly, making a pretty show of light and not much else. It had the desired effect, though. All eyes were focused on Voldemort and himself. There would be no doubt as to the death of the enemy of the wizarding world.
Voldemort used Malfoy's body, bringing his hand clumsily upwards, wand gripped in shaking fingers. Ron contemptuously waved his ringed hand and sent the bit of wood flying. It bounced off the shields around them and landed in the dirt, taking root and becoming a giant redwood tree in seconds. Some of the Earthians had caught onto his tactic and made it look to the wizards like he had done it himself, intimidating Voldemort especially. Sammie, the little eight year old Muggle, giggled at Voldemort as the man stared at his wand, now growing leaves in profusion. It was the right effect, and Ron had no doubt that the fourth level boy had done it on purpose. Voldemort jerked at the innocent sound, then glared at Ron.
"Harry Potter," he hissed, his face contorting. Ron realized that his soul was taking over completely, twisting Lucius Malfoy's body to look like his own. Scornfully, Ron shook his head.
"I am not that one," Ron said, giving a little chuckle for effect. Voldemort twitched, and some of the wizards outside whispered. "I left him trapped safely in the castle above. He knows my face, enemy of nature, of wizards and Psi, of the very earth." Ron smiled grimly under his hood. "You will see it as well, before I have destroyed you for good and all here today." Ron threatened.
Voldemort was trembling, both from fear and from the effort his new body was undergoing to change. Ron had caught him at the perfect moment. "I am the Dark Lord Voldemort!" He cried as his body finished transforming itself. "No wizard can kill me! Even you failed before, and now I have this new body, young and powerful, at my command. No one stands a chance against me."
"It is not the body or the body's power that can stand up under the power of the Psi," Ron retorted in a scornful voice. "The Psi is of the mind. If you seek to control it, you must control your own mind first."
He didn't wait anymore. Without moving, he sent a wave of pure, amethyst Psi energy straight at Voldemort, in the same instant freezing his body in place. The light purple energy disrupted Voldemort's magical hold over Malfoy's body, forcing his cells to revert to their original genetic forms. Voldemort's soul was pushed directly out of Malfoy's body, which collapsed forward. Ron pushed the Death Eater's form under the wand tree and asked it to secure him there. It gladly wrapped its roots around Malfoy's weak form, leaving Ron free to take on Voldemort's spirit once more. Again he set up a cage around the spirit form, drawing all his power away from the outer shield.
This time Voldemort didn't dally. He threw his serpent-like spirit form against the walls of his prison. Like before, Ron's own body collapsed to the ground, convulsing. His hood fell back, exposing his face, though no one could see him because his forehead mark was glowing so brightly. A wordless shout was thrown from his throat. But the prison held. Voldemort's spirit stayed for a moment, then diminished. It grew smaller and smaller, then with a blood-curdling shriek it vanished.
Ron collapsed, exhausted, to the ground. The Psi and wizards outside dropped their own shields and rushed forward. Ironically, the first one to his side was Draco Malfoy.
The other boy was breathing heavily, as though from a great exertion. He fell to his knees beside Ron, gaping. "Weasley?" He gasped, totally shocked. Ron merely coughed, and blood colored his lips. Twice in one day he'd used more power than any Psi had possessed in over three thousand years. The toll on his body was intense, but with rest, Ron knew he would be all right. He tried to push himself to his feet, but ended up collapsing again. It was Sammie who came to his rescue. The boy had pushed his hood back as well, and his sweet eight-year-old face appeared above Malfoy's. He crouched down and ran a hand over Ron's face, collecting the blood in his hand and throwing it away. His sapphire ring glowed on his delicate child's fingers.
"Skull One? Are you alright?" Sammie queried.
"I'm okay… just get me… to the hospital wing," Ron told the boy, trying not to cough up more blood. The marks on their foreheads glowed faintly as Sammie touched him, trying to pull him up off the ground. Ron was more than a little surprised when Malfoy took his other shoulder, pulling most of his weight and giving Sammie directions to the hospital wing. "What…?" Ron asked, then coughed up more blood.
"My father's had me under the Imperious curse since I could talk," Malfoy said, grim and coldly furious. "If you hadn't just done what you did, I wouldn't have ever had an opportunity to break it. But after you finished with Voldemort," and Malfoy said the name with no hesitation, and no small amount of hate, "he was so messed up that he didn't even realize I'd gotten loose."
Then they were at the hospital wing. They could here Harry and Hermione yelling from inside and banging on the door. Sammie tried to undo the lock and failed. He turned to Ron, who managed to slip his hand clumsily into Sammie's little one, with Draco supporting all his weight. Foreheads and rings glowing from the power share, Sammie drew on Ron's power to lift the lock on the door, but the use of power sent Ron into a bad coughing fit. Draco blanched, but carefully supported Ron as Sammie yelled for Harry to open the door.
The heavy wood burst open and Harry and Hermione charged out, but Sammie drew water from the air and the blood and sweat covering everyone to make a wall of water to protect the three of them. Draco shoved past the panting and startled witch and wizard and charged into the hospital wing. He carefully settled Ron on the bed, where the redheaded Psi immediately went to sleep.
Sammie came behind them at a more sedate pace, dropping the water wall, which Harry and Hermione were afraid to cross, when Skull One was safely tucked in. The little eight-year-old clambered up onto the bed and sat next to his leader. The three older kids stared at him and Skull One, with varying degrees of shock and worry on their faces. He didn't really understand what was going on as far as all the magic stuff was concerned, but he figured it was like the Psi, where some people had it and some didn't, and those who didn't have the power didn't know about it. It stood to reason that some people would have both kinds of power.
Sammie had noticed that, although everyone had cleared a path for the blonde boy and himself to help Skull One to the nurse's office (though the nurse herself had yet to appear, and it didn't look like she was taking good care of her patients, if the hyperventilating lady in the corner was any indication), they hadn't hesitated to follow after their savior. Really, it was only the non-Psi who were following them, since all of Skull One's followers could feel that he was getting better each minute with rest. Skull One had already been using his control over water to clot his own blood, easily stopping the internal bleeding inside his own body. Sammie looked up from the bed and waved his ringed hand at the door, closing it soundly. Then he used his own power to place a lock on the room, as Skull One had before. It wasn't nearly as powerful or complex as his leader's lock, but it would hold- barely.
Sammie, also known as Skull Aqua Iota, looked at his leader in awe and worry. It was the first that he, and probably any member of the Order of the Psi, had seen the boy's face, and he carefully memorized his leader's features so that he would be able to identify Skull One easily outside of Psi meetings. From what Sammie had seen, Skull One did not intend to keep the Psi a secret anymore after all of this was done. Already, too many people had seen and identified Skull One, who was now the most powerful member of the Order the world over.
It is time for us to come out into the open, he mused. For so long, we have hidden ourselves, but we can not hide forever. People must accept us. Sammie watched Skull One sleeping, and felt a little sorry for his leader, who couldn't be ten years older than himself. He will be the scapegoat of us all, and willingly, too. Sammie thought sadly. It is hard to be a leader of humans, because we are so hard on each other and ourselves. Only a strong person could survive such a life for long.
In the back of his own mind, Sammie heard a sound like drumbeats. It was soft and deep, as if coming from a distance. The sapphire on his finger glowed, and a swell of power raced through him. For a moment, his sight was consumed by blue white light.
When his vision cleared, Sammie put his hand to his head. His forehead felt warm to the touch, and when he pulled his hand away, his fingers glowed faintly blue. "Well," he said to himself, "I wasn't expecting that."
The older kids were staring at him, open-mouthed. Finally the girl gathered herself and demanded, "What's going on here?"
"I don't really know, beyond our leader calling us to battle," Sammie replied truthfully. "Skull One sent out a Call earlier this morning and assembled our Squadron to fight those fellows attacking your school. Beyond that, the only thing that matters to us is that Skull One has reached the Sight."
"What are you?" the girl queried, equal parts curious and afraid. She's a smart one, Sammie thought.
"A boy," he replied solemnly. The girl huffed, and began to respecify her question. "No, I know that's not what you meant," Sammie told her. He hesitated. "I . . . we are of the Order of the Psi. Today you saw Skull Squadron in battle, and at their head, our leader," Sammie gestured to the inert boy lying behind him, "Skull One. My own designation is Skull Aqua Iota."
"Ron?" the dark-haired teenager exclaimed, looking extremely surprised.
"Apparently," the blonde affirmed. "You should have seen him kicking Voldemort's bloody arse out there. Plus, thanks to him, my good old dad finally bought it." Sammie gathered, from this and what the blonde had said earlier, that the older boy's father had been somehow controlling him, and his death had ended the control.
"Now I get a question." Sammie demanded, interrupting the thoughts of the others. "What kind of power do you three have. It's practically incompatible with psi magic, outside of people who carry both. I'm very curious about this, since all our meetings have been held in this place," he continued, waving one hand vaguely at the stone walls about them, "and I've still never encountered your style before."
They all stared at him for a moment, and then the black-haired teen asked incredulously, "How old are you?"
"Eight and half," Sammie informed them proudly. It was something he'd always taken joy in, his early maturity. Mostly he kept it to himself outside of Order meetings, but Aqua Mu had encouraged him to express his thoughts; the twenty-three year old girl was a good friend of his.
The blonde gave a low whistle of appreciation. "You're a smart kid. You say you've never seen magic before?"
"I've never seen your magic before." Sammie corrected. "I've been a member of the Order since I was
