Disclaimer: All the characters, settings, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. Isn't she lucky?

Chapter Nine

All of the excitement from Halloween was beginning to fade, and Harry had the harsh realization the following Thursday afternoon that Gryffindor's first quidditch game was a month away, and his team had only had three practices. He hastily arranged for the team to meet that Saturday for what he was sure would be a grueling five hours of practice. On a quidditch high, he raced from McGonagall's office, where he had been securing the pitch, and hurried to find Ron so they could go over some strategies. Unfortunately, he found Ron - fighting with Percy in the Transfiguration hall.

"I couldn't see you, you could see me!" Ron bellowed, shaking his wand under Percy's nose.

Apparently, there had been a mix up over who exactly had the right to turn the corner.

"I am afraid that you are mistaken, Ronald. I assure you I was well beyond the corner before you rammed into me like a drunken --."

Harry cast a silencing charm over the both of them, "Percy, I know this will anger you, but I'm afraid you can't take points from me as you no longer attend Hogwarts. Still wondering why you're here, by the way. And Ron -- ."

Ron glared threateningly at Harry.

" -- I would appreciate it if you would mangle your brother elsewhere. If McGonagall sees you, I know she'll drop you from the team, and Hermione's keeping skills aren't quite as refined as your's."

Throwing Percy one last deadly glare, Ron followed Harry down to the Great Hall where Harry removed the silencing charm.

"Thanks for getting rid of the prat. I wish he'd just go away!" Ron fumed, slamming his bag on the bench next to Hermione.

"What's wrong?" she asked, setting her book down.

"Percy and Ron were within ten feet of each other," Harry explained.

"Ah," Hermione returned to her book but abandoned it again rather quickly and turned to Harry, "Tonks wants to see us in her room tonight, can you make it?"

"'Course," Harry replied, already shoving potatoes in his mouth.

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Tonks's room was covered in rolls of parchment and absurdly heavy volumes of dark arts manuals.

"Oh, hey guys. Excuse the mess - oh, what do you care?" Tonks dropped onto her sofa, despairingly holding her face in her hands.

"Are you all right, Tonks?" Hermione asked warmly, taking a seat next to the professor.

Harry took Tonks's behavior as an opportunity to take a glimpse of the papers piled high on her coffee table and mantle. Maps of different secure locations in Europe and lots of papers with an unfamiliar scrawl of characters that Harry assumed to be code.

"I've been working non-stop for three days, three days, and I'm no closer to figuring any of this out! They really should have given this stuff to Remus - he's much better at piecing things together. Or Molly, but really, me?"

"What is it?" Harry asked, fingering one particularly long and cramped parchment.

Tonks was hesitant at first but whether due to stress or helplessness, she caved, "We got all these papers from the Malfoy manor. They were in Lucius's little dark arts room. And they've told me to figure out what it all means. It's just because no one else wants to do it. 'Oh, Tonks, you were so good at arithmancy, this should be a cinch!'" Tonks cursed.

Hermione's face lightened as Harry passed her one of the coded parchments, "You know, Tonks...we could...well, Harry and I could help you," Hermione said, appearing very small.

Tonks pried her face from her hands long enough to look at them contemptuously and reply, "You shouldn't even have seen these things. I only called you down here to tell you that we wouldn't be meeting tomorrow for your advanced lessons because I have to work on this blasted mess."

She returned to her previous state of gloom.

"Why won't you let us help you!" Harry demanded, rifling through a journal filled with complicated sketches of instruments that even looked evil.

"Because I'm not supposed to," Tonks replied, "Dumbledore would kill me, kill me, if he knew I even told you two that we'd been to the Malfoy's. You don't want to see me outed, do you? Blood, mass confusion, weeping flowers and singing sympathy cards. Murder can be a nasty business."

Hermione bit her bottom lip in thought, then rebuttled, "But you've already told us about where you got all this stuff. Now, Harry and I could keep it under wraps or...we might just slip up in front of Dumbledore. Wouldn't that be awful? All the singing sympathy cards? Or...Harry and I could be pleasantly busy decoding dark materials. We wouldn't have the time to tell Dumbledore....."

Harry loved how Hermione could be viciously clever with blackmail.

Tonks scowled, making her look especially vindictive in the firelight, "Fine."

Harry traded mischievously grins with Hermione.

"I could use some help -- and you better not go running to Dumbledore about this!"

"A deal's a deal," Hermione smiled.

Tonks scoffed, "I suggest you find a place where you can study these materials without anyone coming across them accidently. I never, never want to hear they've been lying around the common room, got it?"

"We'll work in the Room of Requirement, and I'll lock it up after we leave each time," Harry promised.

"Sounds safe enough," Tonks admitted grudgingly.

She pulled herself from the sofa and began collecting stacks of parchment. Harry and Hermione left Tonks's room laden with towers of books and papers.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Harry muttered from behind his mass of books.

They rounded the corner to the Room of Requirement, and after pacing three times in front of the wall, found themselves entering a beautiful studying space. Hermione gasped and hastily set her mounds of parchment down to inspect the room. The room was lit with dim, low hanging lights that floated above the three round tables in the center of the room and the squishy arm chairs that were located near towering book shelves filled with books similar to those that Harry was carrying. There were windows, which was odd because there weren't any windows when the room was being used for the DA, but they were covered with thick velvet curtains at the moment. There was also a cheery fireplace and a cabinet filled with tea pots and hot chocolate packets.

"It's brilliant," Hermione sighed.

"Yeah," Harry grinned.

"Isn't it great?"

"Of course, the room's amaz -- ."

"Not the room. I mean, we're finally doing it, Harry. We're helping the Order. We're really helping."

Harry smiled, "We are, aren't we?"

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It had been three weeks since Harry had appointed Brandy Riggs, Edward Candin, and, to Ron's great distaste, Freddy Sneddy to Gryffindor's team. And even though Kathryn Embers and Ginny Weasley (who Harry had begged and even went as far as to send flowers to) were also on the team, Harry now found himself guiltily fantasizing about disbanding the team and tricking his two new chasers and new beater into accepting a portkey to Siberia.

"Did Candin just call the quaffle a --," Ron teared, "a quakkle?"

Harry nodded solemnly, "We're just uh...going to ignore that."

Ron looked close to a break down, "I oughta shove the quakkle down Candin's

throat -- ."

"Ron, I don't care what he calls it as long as he puts it through the goal."

"You mean the goakkle," Ron said, bitterly.

It was three hours into Saturday's quidditch practice, and while Kathryn, Ginny, Harry, and even Ron were brilliant (and didn't mind admitting it to themselves), it was painfully obvious that the other three only recently became aware of how to sit on a broom.

"Um, let's just go through that play one more time!" Harry called from the center of the pitch, kicking off to join the others in the air.

Ginny made a spectacular dive on her broom to level herself with a bludger which she whammed in Freddy's direction. Harry took note that Freddy was a bit caught off guard - seeing as how he fell off his broom. Ron, who was closest, managed to grab Freddy by the robes to keep him from plummeting to the ground, but the third year was so petrified that he fainted, and Harry had to bring practice to an end so they could make the trip to the infirmary.

The team was assured twenty minutes later that Mr. Sneddy would be just fine after a bit of rest. Harry insisted on staying with him until he woke up. To his surprise, Kathryn also informed Madam Pomfrey that she wanted to stay until he awoke. Ron mouthed to Harry 'you've got a fan' and advised him rather loudly to 'tell off the clumsy git as soon as he wakes up' before he hurriedly exited the hospital wing.

"Good practice," Harry told Kathryn as he took a seat next to Freddy's bed.

Kathryn looked at him warily, "I may never have played quidditch before, but I still know that that was the worse display of the sport in many, many, many centuries."

Harry smiled, "Ever."

"What?"

"Worst display ever," Harry corrected.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry appraising the new Gryffindor. She reminded him a bit of Ginny, brutally honest and challengeable.

"So...friend of Sneddy's?" Harry inquired, motioning to the unconscious chaser.

"He lives in the same neighborhood as me. Known him as long as I can remember."

"Do you live in a muggle neighborhood?"

"No. It's a little village about the size of Hogsmeade. A couple of muggles, but mostly wizards. I live with my mum."

Freddy stirred, mumbling, "Where am I?"

Harry leaned over him, grinning, "Ever heard of something known as the 'Wrath of the Weasley?'"

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Harry entered his dorm room Saturday night to find another congregation of Gryffindor boys, handing money over to Ron.

"Picked up some great stuff on the ol' Extendables while you were in the infirmary this afternoon!" Ron shouted over the din of anguished cries and shouts of mirth.

"I have good biceps, Harry! I have good biceps!" Seamus laughed joyously, clapping Harry hard on the back.

"That's nothing, Finnigan!" Dean roared, "The lovely Miss Patil thinks that I, Dean Oliver Thomas, have a 'dashing smile'!"

Harry snaked his way over to the board where Ron was staring at it admiringly, "I fixed Hermione's damage."

He sighed. Harry looked to see that under Ron's square were comments from Lavender, Susan Bones, a Ravenclaw girl, Mitsy, and a Gryffindor fifth year, Anna. The consensus was that Ron had cute freckles and an athletic build. Then Harry noticed in the corner of Ron's square were the initials P.T. and a little flame.

"Who's P.T.?" Harry snickered.

"Er...." Ron blushed, "Oh, that's nothing. It's just -- ."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Fine, but you've gotta swear you won't tell anyone."

"Oh, I swear."

"On your wand."

Harry rolled his eyes, "On my wand."

"And Hedwig!"

"Ron!"

"All right, fine!" Ron leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "P.T. stands for...for Professor Tonks."

Harry choked and attempted to smother his uncontrollable laughter.

"Tonks?" he hissed.

Ron nodded gravely, "I think she may have it bad for me."

"So, then you did notice the signs," Harry mocked relief, "Me and Hermione didn't think we could keep it a secret any longer...."

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"TONKS!" Hermione laughed, falling back into an arm chair in the Room of Requirement.

She and Harry and just begun working on their project for the Order, and Harry decided he just had to tell her.

"I predict that defense classes get very interesting," Harry said knowledgeably.

"You've been taking classes under Trelawny for too long," Hermione joked, pulling a stack of coded parchment towards her, "Now, where should we begin with these codes?"

Harry groaned, taking a seat on the arm rest of Hermione's chair, "I've no idea."

Most of the parchments were covered in little squiggles and occasionally something faintly resembled a letter. To Harry, it looked impossible.

"Well," Hermione ploughed on, "it could be some ancient form of writing that Voldemort makes his Death Eaters use, but I'm betting against that one. I'm sure it's really very simple. So simple, that someone would never think of it. They probably write everything normally and then use some sort of spell. And we're in trouble if that's it because it could be anything that Voldemort concocted."

"Simple, huh?" Harry asked, wrapping an arm around the chair and gently pulling a piece of parchment from Hermione's left hand.

He hesitantly held it, then drew his wand and tapped the paper, "Reveal yourself."

To his amazement, and Hermione's greater amazement, the squiggles began to worm around on the paper until they formed perfectly legible letters.

"H-how did you -- ." Hermione asked, breathlessly.

"In my third year, Snape tried to view the contents of the Marauder's Map. But instead of using a normal spell, he just said 'reveal yourself', which always seemed a bit odd to me -- ."

"Commanding magic," Hermione interrupted.

"What?"

"It's a rarely used branch of magic. You see, some people have the ability to command directed magic without knowing a spell. Not everyone can do it, and I've never heard of anyone commanding a strong spell like...a patronus or stupefy. But little things, yes, little things like this many of his Death Eaters can probably manage. Harry, you're brilliant," Hermione finished admiringly.

Harry waved a dismissive hand, "I just remembered something."

"But you also used commanding magic on your first try, without knowing what you were doing."

"Point is," Harry tried to distract her, "we can now read these papers."

The first paper was a letter from Lucius to MacNair, explaining that Voldemort would soon be residing in Scotland.

"It was never sent though," Hermione breathed, "See, he wrote it on the Halloween that Voldemort tried to kill you."

"Why didn't he burn this stuff?" Harry asked, as he worked on revealing more parchments.

"I don't know, but -- ," Hermione gasped as she skimmed a new piece of parchment.

"What is it!" Harry leaned in to look at the parchment that was shaking in her hand.

He gripped it firmly and began to read. It was detailed instructions on the Potters' whereabouts and state (noting the recent Fidelus charm and the secret-keeper, Pettigrew) as of October 24. Two sentences seemed to burn with ferocity, however: James Potter's son is a NATURAL. The master would be advised to not act on the prophesy.

This was a passage from Lucius's own journal, another message that had not left his care.

"What's a Natural?" Harry asked.

"I - I don't know. I don't think it's an official title or anything. We could ask Tonks," Hermione suggested.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, standing up and stretching, "Yeah, let's talk to Tonks tomorrow. We need to get back to the common room."

Hermione sighed and got up to accompany Harry to the tower.

"I should put out the fire," Harry reminded himself.

As he stepped toward the fireplace to pour water from his wand, the fire instinctively grew, lapping against the walls of the fireplace. Fearfully, he put it out, and they hurriedly left the room.

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They would have reached Gryffindor tower in silence had Draco Malfoy, who was patrolling, not approached them.

"Well, well, well, a mudblood and her hero," Malfoy drawled.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry spat, taking Hermione by the arm and guiding her to the nearest staircase.

"Must have been hard, Potter," Malfoy called, "witnessing such a spectacle at the Department of Mysteries. Funny how some people just can't seem to keep their balance. Better keep your grip on your mudblood friend - wouldn't want her to fall through a curtain, now would you?"

"Shut it, Malfoy."

However, this sentiment did not come from Harry but from Ginny who had appeared behind Malfoy.

"Go back to your end of the hall," Malfoy sneered.

"Oh, go back to your hole, Malfoy," Ginny replied.

"How dare you speak to me like that -- ."

"I'll speak to you however I please, you git," Ginny snapped, "See you guys in the morning," she said, turning to Harry and Hermione.

"If he does anything to you...." Harry whispered, angrily.

"He'll have difficulty breathing through all the bats stuck up his nasal passage," Ginny promised.

"Bye, Gin," Hermione smiled, tugging on Harry's sleeve, "Ignore him, ignore him..."

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"A Natural?" Ron repeated, "never heard of it."

"Neither have I," Hermione said.

Ron stared disbelievingly at her and then mocked stumbling back from the shock, "I'm - I'm sorry, what was that?"

Hermione scoffed and buried her head in her book again. They had just been released from a torturous Potions class, and Harry had suggested they go lay by the lake. It was beginning to get chilly as it always was in mid-fall, but he could tell that this winter was going to be particularly bitter. Ron threw himself down on the ground and pulled out another girl tracking device.

"This one let's me know exactly how uh...flirtatious, shall we say....a girl really is."

He pointed the cylindrical gadget at Hermione then studied a little meter on the side, "Man, you're boring."

Hermione glowered at him, her book shaking, as if willing her to chuck it at him.

"Can I see that?" Harry asked.

Ron eagerly handed it to him. Harry, in turn, handed it to Hermione, "You can have the honor."

Hermione smiled gratefully and hurled the gadget into the lake, where the giant squid sucked it up into its tentacles.

Ron would probably have protested had Christopher Stone not chosen that moment to confidently approach Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione," he said, flinging himself down on the ground between her and Harry.

Ron gaped open mouthed, then signaled for Harry to behold the obnoxiousness.

"Er...hey, Christopher. How are you?" Hermione swallowed.

"Fine, I was just seeing if you were going in for dinner anytime soon -- ."

"She has a previous engagement!" Ron burst.

Hermione looked at him from the corner of her eye, raising an eyebrow. Harry mouthed 'previous engagement?!?' over Stone's head. Stone, however, did not seem to have heard Ron.

"Well, I really have a lot of homework to be taking care of, and I just think I'm going to have to decline," Hermione responded diplomatically.

"Aw, come on. Five minutes -- ," Stone coaxed.

"You heard the lady!" Ron raised his voice, "She's got homework, and nothing, nothingcomes between 'Mione and her homework!"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

'Mione?!?' Harry mouthed dubiously.

"Ron's actually kind of...right...I guess," Hermione said with great pain, "I do need to work."

Stone took his first glance at Ron, "Who are you?"

"Ron Weasley, brother to Bill, Charlie, Fred, George -- ."

"Ah, yeah, a Weasley. You're a chaser for Gryffindor, right?"

"Keeper," Ron growled.

"Anyway, Hermione. I just thought it'd be nice to get to talk to you. I hardly ever see you around and -- ."

"Look," Hermione relented, "why don't go get some food and we'll have a little," she covered a giggle, "picnic over on the other side of the lake."

Stone looked hesitant.

"And Ron the Chaser will go far, far away."

Ron's jaw dropped in disgust.

"Well, all right," Stone laughed, leaving them.

"A picnic?" Harry asked as Hermione collected her book and papers.

"With Stone!" Ron elaborated, "You know," he continued, "I think the flirt detector may have mis-gaged you because seemed pretty fl --."

"Ron!" Hermione ruptured, "If you keep talking I won't have a chance to run before that prat comes back, so kindly get off your backside and help me carry some of these books!"

Harry and Ron obliged and the three sprinted across the lawn, just managing to conceal themselves in an archway as Stone exited the Entrance Hall with a basket of food.

"You know," Harry beamed, "I'm very proud of you, leaving a poor, innocent bloke alone with his picnic basket."

"Shut up," Hermione smirked.

"Was it just me or did he have roasted chicken and chocolate truffle in that basket?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review! There's a lot of plot and action in the next few chapters so please remember the story if you liked it! God bless.