I do not own Harry Potter, or his magical world. The only things that belong to this one are her original characters and the story.

Chapter 30: Late Nights

That week's Occlumency session was with Snape, and Harry, while still not performing quite up to Snape's standards, did, with the help of his receiver, manage to fare better. At the end of the lesson, after Snape had grudgingly conceded that the young man might have it in him to actually learn Occlumency, he found that, for once, his scar did not hurt. That, in itself, was a small victory.

When he got back to the common room that night, most of the students had already gone to sleep, but for Ron and Ginny. Hermione, after several attempts at brewing a remedy to her problem in their usual potion brewing place of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, had finally succeeded, and her hair was again its usual mousy brown. However, a couple of sleep deprived nights had sent her to her rooms early for some much needed rest.

One of the reasons, perhaps, that she had been so diligent in restoring it to its original color was the fact that Ron had really taken to the blond version of Hermione. Harry had noticed several times that he seemed transfixed by the golden curls that coiled around Hermione's face. He had suggested to her, timidly, that first night when she was frantically poring over her potions book, that she might perhaps consider keeping it, for a while, mind, and she may grow to like it. Then he added that HE liked it. She had looked startled, pleased, then, recovering, had fixed him with a look that would have scalded the hair off of a cat. Harry was mightily glad that he had not been the recipient of that particular stare, and the lecture that had followed it.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked as he climbed in the portrait hole. He sounded slightly concerned, something he tried to mask with his casual tone.

"I'm fine, Ron." Harry assured him. The fact was he was feeling he should follow Hermione's lead and retreat up to his comfortable bed. Snape's lessons were quite draining, whether it be in potions or otherwise. "I think I'm going to bed." He nodded at them, making his way to the staircase, Ginny's eyes on him were making him nervous.

"Harry!" Ron said hurriedly, "Before you go, I think you should look at this." Harry turned around and saw that he and Ginny had been poring over a large sheet of parchment.

Harry retraced his steps to where they were sitting, taking the parchment and glancing once at their expectant faces before turning his attention to what it said.

It read in a large, flowing script. 'For Students in their Third Year or Above.' Then in smaller letters it went on. 'Friday Evening, at seven o'clock in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, will be the First Meeting of the DEFENSE ASSOCIATION, sponsored by Professor L. C. Lanya.'

He looked at the two of them. "This is the first I've heard of it," He said with a raised eyebrow.

"She asked us to show it to you before she posted it, Harry." Ginny provided.

"Oh," He nodded, mollified, turning his attention back to the parchment.

In even smaller print. 'The DA is an Intensive Advance into the world of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Its Intention, through hard work and discipline, to prepare students for real life, often dangerous, situations. Emphasis will be in hexes, defense, stealth, and combat situations.' And finally, 'It is not recommended that students join this club lightly.'

"It looks like this will work." Harry said after mulling it over for a moment. Beneath all the text was Professor Lanya's signature in swooping letters. Then in small print below it were the words, 'Club President' and a blank space. He looked at Ron curiously.

"She'd like you to sign the copies," Ron told him, indicating three other identical notices sitting on the table.

Harry nodded slightly. "I'll have to go get a quill," He said tiredly. Ginny wordlessly handed him hers, and a small blue bottle of ink. He thanked her, ignoring the tingle in his fingers where they had touched. He scribbled his name four times, then with a yawn and a sleepy goodnight, he left the two Weasleys pinning the notice to the bulletin board, discussing it in low voices with Ron shaking his head and Ginny shrugging.

He let himself be briefly curious over what they were discussing, probably the Slytherins, he thought as he stifled a tired yawn. He wondered that he didn't have the energy to worry himself. But then, he didn't really think that many, if any at all, would like to join a club run by Harry Potter. The ones that didn't ignore him outright, or try to make his life harder, seemed cautious about exchanging even a few words with him. He wondered, sometimes, about that.

Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws seemed to interact fairly often with each other and with the Gryffindors, forming friendships and groups for study and play, though not as much as within their own houses, of course. But the Slytherins, they seemed so isolated. Harry had known only one or two in his own year who even had people they talked to outside their own house. It seemed it wasn't quite right... He shook his head. No, he really was too tired, his mind was wandering off into nonsensical thoughts.

He stumbled into his room, finding Neville already asleep, judging by the soft snores emerging from the gaps in his bedcurtains. Dean and Seamus were playing a game of exploding snap in the middle of Dean's bed. Seamus looked up as Harry entered and pursed his lips slightly.

"Join us Harry?" He asked hesitantly. He was trying, Harry thought, to get past what the events the end of the last school year had done to all of them. He should try, too, he thought. But he was just too tired.

He covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned once again, so perhaps they knew what his answer would be before he made it, begging off in order to go to sleep. Considering how many fewer classes he had started it out taking, it seemed had had remarkably less time for things such as sleep so far this year. But keeping busy was good, it left him little time to think about that he would rather not think on.

"Okay, maybe some other time," Dean told him, smiling hesitantly. Harry grinned at him, wondering if it looked real, it felt fake.

He quickly abandoned it as he changed into his pajamas, his eyes hooded slightly as he pulled back his covers. He was about to flop into bed when he caught a bright flash of startled yellow eyes looking up at him, and caught himself on his forearms just in time to avoid falling on Durry. He pulled back slightly, letting his legs fold so he was on his knees at the side of the bed, laying his head close to his little chronogryffon. He sighed slightly, petting the creature's head as Durry started purring. "I've got to be more careful, eh?" He said softly, meeting yellow eyes with green. "Wouldn't want to squish you, little guy." Durry purred louder, a contented blue.

Harry let his eyes droop closed, thinking vaguely that he really should move Durry and get into bed.

"Harry...must..." a disjointed voice murmured in his ear. "Must..."

Harry mumbled sleepily.

"You must, Harry."

"What?" He whispered, "I must what?"

It was dark, very dark, so dark that he was sure he was still staring at the inside of his eyelids. Then a small light flickered and bloomed in that darkness, like a tiny flame. He stared at it, his eyes squinted half shut, then stood, walking towards that flickering light. It grew brighter as he approached, taking on a green cast and spreading into a wide doorway. Walking through he found himself in a place he did not recognize. He turned, taking everything in.

It was outside, that he knew, the sun shining had made that small light he had followed. It seemed to be a grotto of some sort, set into a small canyon. The walls were mossy, and a small spring welled up in a circular depression in the very center. And in the center of that spring was a low stone plinth, the top had a small square depression in it. Like it had been made to hold something, only now, that something was gone. He walked closer, stepping into the spring, feeling the cool water bubbling around his bare feet.

Harry looked down at himself and saw he was wearing some sort of rough brown robes, draped and fastened with a golden pin that looked like twisting branches on his right shoulder. Strange. Who wore robes like these, he wondered. He certainly didn't.

Putting that aside, he returned to his examination of the polished stone pedestal. There were runes inscribed around the square depression in the middle. Hermione may have recognized them, to him they looked like the half-formed scribbles of a child just learning his letters. He reached out and touched one, and it glowed. First it, then the others, one by one, shifting and changing, their glow waning, then expanding, until the whole grotto burst with their light.

Harry tried to step back, fearful, but found his feet planted in place, as though the water had turned solid around his ankles. Just as he found this out, the light coalesced and seemed to turn solid on the other side of the plinth. He focused on it, fearful, his hand feeling for the wand he did not have.

From the solid light the form of a very old man appeared, his robes nearly a copy of Harry's own. His face was as wrinkled as a dried apple, his skin the color of the bark of an oak tree. His hair was long and smoky gray, as was his beard and his bushy eyebrows. His eyes were closed. Even so, he seemed formidable. Harry redoubled his efforts to free his feet.

When he looked up again, the old man was looking at him, and in his pale washed-out violet eyes there showed a power that Harry nearly quailed before. Here was a wizard who matched Dumbledore for command and presence. Harry found himself trembling, but forced his struggles into stillness, breathing deeply, meeting those eyes.

They demanded that he not look away, and it seemed that, deeper within that wash of violet, there was a whole world waiting, of knowledge, of reality, he couldn't tell. But it seemed he could fall into them and be lost forever.

"You do not know." The old man said in a voice as profound as the ocean. He cupped his hands over the depression, and an image appeared. "How you came to be here." It was a book. Harry had seen it before, on his own lap, in the slender hands of a woman. "You were chosen by matters beyond your control." The book lifted, spinning in the air slowly, the runes on the cover glowing like embers. "The heart makes us do strange things, sometimes. It made me do this." The book flew at Harry, and snapped to a stop inches before his eyes. "It made her do what she did." Harry lifted his hands to take it, and it melted away like sand. "Will it make you do what you mustn't? Will it make you, do what you must do?"

Harry looked back into those depthless eyes, eyes like the infinity of space. "What? What do you mean? What must I do? Why won't any of you be clearer!?"

"Clarity, may be found or given." The man said, his oak-bark face impassive. "We cannot be clearer. There are constraints." The man, and the light faded. "You must do what she cannot." Then, almost to himself. "Would that I was not mistaken. May I not be mistaken." Then, like the book had, he melted into the burbling spring. The light dimmed, and then, the grotto was as he had first seen it, cool and green.

A shadow cast itself across the plinth. Harry turned, and saw Sirius watching him, his eyes sober. "You must do what she cannot, Harry." Then he turned and disappeared through the portal that Harry had entered through, but changed, now with a rippling veil across it.

Harry buried his face in his hands. "Sirius," He mumbled brokenly, "Why?"

"You...must..." Harry heard a disjointed voice. "Harry..."

Harry jerked awake. "What did you say?" Harry demanded. And Ron jumped back.

Ron gulped, and Harry saw Seamus and Dean standing behind him, watching him worriedly. "I said, mate, that you really must get into bed. You'll hurt in the morning if you sleep like that."

Harry realized that his knees hurt. He was still kneeling where he had ended up, at the side of the bed, with Durry near his head. Durry... Harry got up quickly, looking at the chrono.

Durry chittered weakly at him, his eyes dull, his fur and wings a dull sooty gray. Harry quickly scooped him up and held him against his chest. "Oh, Merlin! Durry, I'm so sorry!"

His roommates blinked at him in confusion, but he barely noticed. He was so angry at himself that he could hardly see straight. He had forgotten to use the receiver, and with his Occlumency practice his mind had been more open than before. It had allowed him to dream deeply, seemingly into realms that he had never been in before. Durry had turned his dreams, true, otherwise he would have dreamed of Voldemort, but he was so young, and so small. It must have taken all his strength.

"Hagrid!" Harry nearly shouted. "I have to take him to Hagrid."

"You can't, Harry." Seamus protested. "It's the middle of the night, and it's not safe outside, these days." He immediately looked as though he were sorry he had said it. Harry would have known all too well without a reminder.

"Don't you think he might be better with just a bit of rest?" Dean asked.

"He looks bad, Dean." Ron said softly. "Harry's right." He set himself. "But Seamus is right, too."

Harry gave him a dark glare. "The point, Ron?"

"I mean, maybe we should ask Tai...er...Professor Tainn to look at him. Since he's in the castle, right? And he IS a Care of Magical Creatures professor."

"Right. Here, take him." Harry carefully handed Durry to Dean, who was closest. Dean took him, cradling the small creature in his hands. He seemed to be examining him closely, and Harry imagined it may have been the first time Dean had seen Durry close up. He turned and quickly rummaged in his trunk, finally coming up with his invisibility cloak. He hung it over his arm, and made to take Durry, but other hands were there before him.

"I'll carry him for you, Harry." Neville said quietly, he must have woken up when Harry started shouting. "You look as though you're going to fall over."

The boy looked rumpled, his long hair tangled on his shoulders, but his hands were careful and steady on the chronogryffon. Harry stared at him a long moment, then glanced at Ron, who shrugged and nodded with a half smile. Well, if Neville wanted to go wandering through the halls with him, he supposed that it was a good sign. "Okay, Neville. Let's go."

The halls were so quiet that even their breathing under the invisibility cloak sounded like thunder to Harry's ears. It seemed so much further this time to get to the Stepenwolv resident's apartments. Neville walked small beside him, both of them keeping an ear and an eye out for Filch and Mrs. Norris.

Finally the painting of the dancer appeared before them. She was reposing in a chaise lounge when Harry whispered the password. Then she woke up in surprise, wild-haired for a moment before she swung out of sight.

Harry hadn't expected anyone to be up, and was therefore surprised when his and Neville's invisible selves were facing a roomful of wizards, all facing the doorway, their wands held at ready, pointing at him. He hurriedly tossed back his cloak, and all of them relaxed but one.

Harry muttered an oath. Sarven. The young man was staring at him with a look of shocked dismay. No, not at him, at Neville, who squeaked and took a few steps back, though his grip on Durry remained gentle.

Harry had been too tired, too out of sorts, to think of much besides getting care for his chronogryffon. And now he had revealed Sarven to Neville, who was perhaps not one of the best people to know that the young Snape look-alike was in the castle.

What was done, was done, though. "Neville." He said sharply. And the boy jumped, tearing his gaze away from Sarven. The slightly pudgy boy nodded, gulping. Harry turned his attention back to the gathering. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, but, Tainn?" The feral looking young man, perhaps hearing the urgency in Harry's voice, came forward quickly. "It's Durry...I had a dream, and he..."

Mitexi separated herself from the crowd and joined her brother. Neville handed them the chronogryffon. Tainn looked him over, muttering. She locked eyes with him for a moment. "Yes, I see." Tainn muttered. "Excuse us a moment, Harry." Then he turned and vanished though one of the doorways, Texi on his heels. That left Harry facing the rest of the group, which included Sarven, who had moved from dismay to something approaching consternation.

Most of the others he had not seen since they had taken leave of each other at the Plymouth port. There was slim Colum, his pale hair falling smoothly to his shoulders. And his slightly stouter brother Harvan, his shorter dark blond hair looking slightly windblown. Both had slight smudges of soot on their robes. Valhalla was sitting cross-legged on one of the couches, and beside her was the Auror Kingsley, whom Harry had not seen in quite a while, not since the Ministry, his bald head glinting in the firelight.

They were all staring at him and Neville, who looked as though he were wishing he were anywhere else but there. Harry assumed a small smile, trying to avoid Sarven's dark gaze.

"Harry," Neville tugged at the sleeve of his bathrobe. "That bloke, he looks just like Snape." He whispered.

Harry was saved from having to make some sort of comment when Kingsley approached him. "Harry, it's good to see you. You too, Neville." He clapped the young boy on the shoulder, "Like the new hairstyle," He commented with a grin, rubbing his hand over his own bare pate. He kept his hand on Neville's shoulder, turning, "Everyone, this is Neville Longbottom. I believe you were told about him."

Neville flushed beet red, and was obviously wondering what was said about him. Valhalla was the first to fall in. "Neville, pleased to meet you. I'm Valhalla. Very handsome fellow," she grinned, then she produced a comb from somewhere under her robes. Why on earth would she have a comb under her robes, Harry thought. "Can I braid your hair?" She asked.

Neville stared at her as though she were a loony, but he let her lead him to a hassock and settle him on it. "If you want to avoid tangles you should do this every night." Harry heard her advising him as she started pulling the comb through, working gently at the tangles.

Neville out of the way, the rest of them gathered around Harry. "Good to see you again, Harry." Harvan said, "Though this is quite unexpected." Harry had always liked this twin better than his brother, he was earthier somehow. "And I doubt the wisdom of bringing your friend here."

"I wasn't thinking." Harry mumbled in embarrassment. "I was so tired, and worried." He realized he was babbling excuses and shut himself up.

Sarven was uncomfortably silent. Harry glanced at him. "I apologize. But Neville, he won't say anything if I ask him not to."

"He seemed afraid of me." Sarven said suddenly, and even from where he was sitting Neville started slightly at the sound of his voice. "You see? I'm not sure what to think of that." He lowered his voice.

Harry felt it prudent not to tell him about Neville's boggart.

"So, what are you all doing here tonight?" He asked, and suddenly they all became very quiet. "I mean...if it's something you can't talk about, I understand." He felt his temper flare slightly, and hastily crushed it.

Colum glanced at the doorway that Texi and Tainn had disappeared through, then looked around at the other surrounding Harry. It took a moment, but Harry saw a small nod from Harvan. "We have meetings weekly, those of us who are able to come," the man said. "We like to keep in constant contact, and since Texi is here." He coughed, and Harry, confused, wondered why his brother had elbowed him. Maybe he had imagined it, though.

"Anyway," Colum continued, "We were waiting for Genner to arrive. He was supposed to be here an hour ago, but was probably delayed, his is a delicate job." He spoke carefully. "Tric was here a while ago, but she left to relieve him." His brother nodded. They didn't seem worried that Genner was delayed, though Harry would have been, and was a bit. Genner was a kind fellow, and he liked him.

A moment later there was a slight disturbance at the fireplace, and Neville yelped. He had jumped again, apparently, and had had his hair pulled. Genner emerged, his tousled light brown hair sooty, seeing wands pointed at him he grinned, holding up his hands. "Don't shoot. I'm unarmed."

They laughed, putting their wands away, and Harry chuckled as well, after a moment. Neville looked slightly confused, but then, he hadn't had much, if any exposure to muggle movies. He was impressed, though, at all of their quick reflexes, he hadn't even seen any of them drawing their wands.

Genner spared a quick look for Valhalla, who had busied herself with Neville's hair again. Harry doubted Neville would ever be able to duplicate the intricate braid she was weaving. "She does that to Tainn and Colum, too." He told the boy lightly. "I'm Genner." He said , sticking out his hand.

"N-neville Longbottom." Neville took it. Genner looked speculative at the name, then turned to the rest of them.

"Sorry it took me so long, Tric wanted to spend a little time with me before I left." He laughed, almost in a surprised way, blushing. "I guess she insisted."

Valhalla burst out in a silver laugh, with Colum and Harvan right behind her. "About time." Colum muttered when he caught his breath. Kingsley raised one eyebrow questioningly, but Harry recalled a comment Texi had made about the two of them what seemed like a long time ago now. '...she stayed because of Genner. She'll get him around to her way of thinking one of these days.' He guessed today must have been the day.

Genner blushed again. Then he leapt forward and caught Colum in a headlock, ruffling his hair. "Hey, stoppit! Stoppit!!" Colum protested, trying to punch him. Genner gave him one last rub on the head, then released him with a satisfied look on his face. Colum sullenly began putting his hair to rights again.

"Harry," Genner said, turning to the dark haired boy, "Good to see you again." They shook hands as well. "I had to pull myself out of there, I admit, but it's worth it, and it's my time to meet with Texi." He grimaced slightly. "I think we could do without it, myself, but she insists."

Texi again. It seemed like she was central to this group, but as far as he knew she had never left the castle grounds. "Why do you meet with her?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Genner looked surprised, then glanced at Valhalla. She shook her head ever so slightly. "Not important, we just keep in touch." He said.

Harry found himself scowling, and quickly smoothed his face. He glanced to where Tainn and Texi had disappeared, wondering why they were taking so long, wondering how Durry was. If he had hurt him so badly... No, he wouldn't dwell on it.

By the time Harry brought his attention back to the group, Valhalla had finished with Neville's hair and was trying to coax Colum into her attentions. The pale young man was refusing, but at the same time demanding the comb she was keeping just out of reach. Sarven had moved to the window and was peering out moodily.

Harry saw Neville's eyes following him, and wondered what he thought. Sarven, despite his somewhat dark moods, was a good person. If Neville thought he was like Snape he was badly mistaken. He wondered if he could persuade Sarven to talk to Neville, just for a moment. Perhaps that would help.

While he was watching, Sarven turned, then walked back into the room, and as he passed by his easel he ran his fingers across the top edge of the cloth covering the canvas. He looked, sad, for some reason. Harry moved to meet him, "Sarven." He said.

"Harry, what reasons do people have for doing what they do?" Sarven asked suddenly, very quietly. "No matter how many books you read on philosophy and human behavior, you can never predict what someone is going to do, or why. No matter how much you think you know them or what you know about them." He scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing tiredly. "I just can't understand it."

"Sarven..." Harry asked, "What are you talking about? I brought Neville here because I wasn't thinking about it. I apologize again."

Sarven stood still for a moment, then lowered his hand from his brow, looking at Harry as though just then seeing him. "It's nothing." He said finally. "I'm tired as well." He laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's alright." He said with a small smile. "I've heard about Neville, he seems to be a trustworthy young man." His smile turned into a small grimace, "Is it true that his boggart is your Professor Snape?"

Harry nodded, wondering if Remus had told the story of Snape and Neville's grandmother's clothes.

"So feared. I wonder." He smiled again, though it seemed strange. "Hah, so tired, my thoughts are rambling." He led Harry to a couch, "As soon as Texi and Tainn come back," And you and Neville leave, was distinctly unsaid but implied, "We'll have Genner's report and they'll get to where they need to be."

He settled next to Neville, who was fingering his braid, and motioned for Harry to sit on the couch across from him. "So, how have your classes been?"

The rest gathered around after a few minutes and chimed in with funny stories from their own times at their schools. It turned out that Valhalla had not, in fact, gone to Sundonoma, but had attended the Eastern school, Salem Institute. The two schools had somewhat of a rivalry going, and she joked about being outnumbered by all those western yokels. Then she had to define the word 'yokel' for Harry and Neville's benefit.

Neville listened with wide eyes as Sarven laughed and told his own tale about charming Genner, and he, who was sitting on the back of the couch behind him, cuffed the dark haired man on the shoulder and said something about payback still being owed. Sarven gave him a sidelong grin, and Neville's startlement seemed to grow exponentially.

Then they moved to sports, and Kingsley and Harry took turns waxing eloquently on the merits of quidditch, which was a little played sport in the United States.

Harry glanced often at that door his chrono had disappeared through. What was taking them so long?

After quidditch they moved onto the American sport called Unitik, which Harvan had played in school, though Harvan said he preferred Sky Surfing, whatever that was. Apparently Unitik was a sport with two teams and was played on floating boards of some sort that were attached to the player's feet. It was something like a combination of skateboarding, soccer and basketball, they said. Which Neville didn't really understand. Harry didn't really understand it himself, they 'pulled tricks' off the walls? They attempted to explain the rules for a while before throwing up their hands in despair at their continuing confusion.

"You should ask Umbers." Sarven said finally, "He's played professionally, I understand. And he should be able to explain better than this bunch." Which led to protests and laughter.

It was not long after this that Tainn and Texi emerged, Texi carrying a sleeping Durry in her arms. Harry stood quickly and went to meet them. "Is he alright?" He asked worriedly.

"He'll be fine, Harry." Tainn assured him seriously. "But he was exhausted to the point to sickness. You must be more careful."

"Much more careful, Harry." Texi added after catching his eye. "We will speak of this dream of yours at out next session." He hesitated, then nodded. The dream was still vivid in his mind, though he had managed to avoid really thinking of it until then.

"And now, as your Professor, I must insist that you and Mr. Neville should be getting to your beds, it's really very very late."

"Yes, sir, Mister Tainn sir." Harry replied with a mocking salute.

Tainn grinned at him. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry gathered up Neville, and the two of them exited the portal hole with farewells following behind them. Harry paused as the painting swung shut, the very put out ballerina glaring at them. "Neville, you mustn't tell anyone about this." He told the other boy seriously as he shook out his invisibility cloak.

"Eh?" Neville had appeared to be lost in thought. "Oh, yes, Harry, you can count on me."

He wouldn't say anything, Harry knew, but he would continue thinking about the people he had seen tonight, and about Sarven.

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