Chapter 2

1/9/97

The Hogwarts express hurtled down the tracks towards its final destination, the crimson and gold carriage standing out against the deep green of the Scottish fields. Within the train, hundreds of young wizards and witches gathered, eagerly anticipating the beginning of a new term learning magic, or bemoaning the end of their blissful months of summer holiday. And in one of these isolated compartments, four seventh year students were looking forward to their final year of schooling.

A bushy haired girl, black Hogwarts robes marked with the distinctive Head Girl badge, was berating a gangly redheaded boy, while a still slightly chubby boy looked on in amusement. "Now, Ronald," she said in an officious tone, "How could you have left your assignments so late? Look at this transfiguration essay, it's barely even legible!" Waving the offending object with one hand, her warm brown eyes seemed to pierce into her friend's very skull.

Wriggling uncomfortably under her intimidating gaze, he futilely tried to justify himself. "Hermione," he almost whined, "There are more important things than schoolwork. I was working with Dumbledore and Moody, strategising for Voldemort's attacks. Schoolwork is hardly more important than that, is it?" he asked, hopefully.

"No, of course not," she agreed, herself a major player in the war effort, "but what about when you were in America for that week, trying to convince them to join us? You had plenty of time then!"

"I… well…" The boy's face grew crimson in shame, as he muttered something about trying to relax from the stress.

Sighing, Hermione turned to Ronald's companion, to continue her tirade. "And what about you, Neville? Surely your grandmother taught you to spend as much time as possible on your work. After all, there's more to school than spells, whatever Ronald here might think."

Neville glared lightheartedly at Ron for abandoning him to the inquisition. "Gran thought, and I agree, that it was more important to be training at you-know-where than writing about how to change a couch to a cow."

"Yeah," echoed Ron, before being silenced by the full force of Hermione's disparaging look.

As the debate over schoolwork continued, the fourth person in the carriage merely smiled wryly, his face hidden once more beneath his dark hair. Some things never changed, and Hermione's obsession with schoolwork was one of those things. Unlike his companions, if Hermione remembered his silent presence, she would find that his school assignments were long since finished. But Harry had perfected the art of blending in, to the point where he even seemed invisible to his so-called friends.

Of course, he thought resentfully, he had no distractions like raids or family vacations to take him away from his homework. Despite being of age, and a powerful wizard at that, Dumbledore continued to send him back to the hell commonly known as 4 Privet Drive, ostensibly for his own protection. Harry was, of course, far too weak to defend himself in the likely occurrence of an attack, and his presence would endanger any he stayed with, making Harry responsible for yet more deaths.

However, Dumbledore's seeming inability to check on Harry's health and wellbeing meant no Order member noticed the inordinate amount of time he spent in his room, studying far harder books than the seventh year texts, and not always completely legal. And neither did they notice when his bedroom was warded with a complicated spell which prevented detection of magic use, leaving him to practice advanced spellwork for hours on end. Dumbledore may have been saving him for a special weapon, likely as a sacrifice – after all, Voldemort's life did depend on Harry's untimely blood donation – but Harry was determined to play his part in this war. Harry would not sacrifice his life to save those who did not believe in him. Instead, he would prove to them and himself that he was more than what they thought.

Zoning out of their meaningless conversation, so irrelevant to this world of war and hate, he began to review the spells and skills he had learnt over the past year, in his secret room in the dungeons. If Dumbledore could have bypassed his strong occlumency skills, honed in an attempt to stop the encroachment of his visions, he would have been surprised, and a little bit scared, at how much his Golden Boy now knew. His Angel, as he still called his tutor, was adept in many areas of magic, and had taught him much that was considered impossible or dark, preparing him for his role in the war.

At the thought of seeing his Angel once more, a wide smile broke across his usually solemn face. Finally, he could demonstrate how much he had learned, hopefully making his Angel proud. He was an exacting master and a harsh teacher, often cruelly sarcastic and deriding when Harry made mistakes. But despite all that, Harry considered the Angel his one true friend. The only person who truly saw him, not James Potter's son or the Boy-Who-Lived or the final weapon. The only person who truly cared for his feelings, his safety, his future.

A none too subtle poke to his side interrupted his thoughts, and he raised his powerful green eyes to face the inquiring gazes of his three companions. A raised eyebrow was his only remark, his Angel teaching him long ago that there was power in silence.

Disconcerted, Ron hesitantly asked, "What were you thinking about, Harry?"

"Returning to Hogwarts, of course!" Harry replied, somehow managing to put a cheery Gryffindor tone in his voice, as if he remained the excitable and childish Golden Boy they thought he was. His companions were easily fooled, and did not investigate further. Internally, he mocked their Gryffindor acceptance, while continuing to promote their false impressions of his nature. "I'm looking forward to learning more magic," he said eagerly, as if his Angel had not already taught him far beyond the seventh year course.

Ron smiled, and patted Harry on the arm as if he was some sort of special pet, or an admiring inferior. "Don't worry, Harry," he began in a patronising fashion, "You're going to learn heaps this year. Like the Spartan shield that Moody taught me, great defence against Death Eaters when in a group." Hermione and Neville nodded, smiling at their less involved companion.

Outwardly, Harry smiled back, as if to thank Ron for his reassurance, for the small bone of information thrown to him. Inwardly, he growled. Despite learning that shield with ease in February under the Angel's instructions, he still wished that Dumbledore would show some interest in teaching him. And inside him, the envy he felt at his treatment festered like a gaping wound. Harry had vowed to kill Voldemort, and to that end he would put up with the treatment he received. But after that was done, he would forsake these chains to his so-called friends and mentors, leave them behind forever. His Angel was the only one who really cared, and the only one he cared for.

As he sunk once more into fond memories of the previous year, his friends rolled their eyes at his perceived childishness, returning to their own conversations. After all, Harry didn't have their skills and experience, he couldn't understand anyway. Harry didn't bother to correct them.

As the train began to journey into the forest, Harry found himself distracted by glimmers of light up ahead. They almost look like spells, he thought, before shaking his head in disbelief. No Death Eater would be foolish enough to attack the train, protected as it was by Dumbledore's magic and the Order of the Phoenix, including the famous Alastor Moody. They were perfectly safe.

But as Harry tried to ignore the hallucination, most likely the sparks from the train wheels, a nagging feeling in his head prevented him from relaxing. Slowly, he remembered that he hadn't actually seen Professor Dumbledore on the train; nor, for that matter, any other Order members apart from their teachers. Not nearly enough to defend three hundred students. And with the extensive magical shielding around Hogwarts, now would be just the right time to eliminate future generations of opposition…

All too soon, the train began to draw to a halt; too soon, in fact, for them to be at all near Hogwarts. Nothing good had ever resulted of the train being stopped, and Harry began to fear that his theory was indeed correct.

Raising his eyes to those of his now silent friends, Harry began to talk swiftly and quietly. "I think we're under attack."

"But Harry," Hermione opposed, "Dumbledore's the only person Voldemort," Ron winced, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron! Dumbledore's the only person you-know-who ever feared. He'd never attack something under Dumbledore's direct protection."

There goes Hermione with her infatuation with authority figures, Harry thought in annoyance. Unable to keep the irritation out of his voice, he sharply asked, "Do you see Dumbledore on this train anywhere? Did any of you, in fact, see an Auror member protecting us throughout the entirety of this train journey?"

Slowly, he saw realisation dawn in their now fearful eyes. "B… but Harry," Neville stuttered, "Who will protect us without Dumbledore here?"

"I'll protect you, Neville," Ron interrupted arrogantly, leaving Harry hard pressed to avoid glaring his so-called friend. Ron didn't know as much about fighting as he seemed to think he did, and his belief that he could fight off dozens of Death Eaters alone was simply conceited.

"Ron," Harry began, trying to keep his tone as civil as possible, "We will need more than just the four of us if we're going to protect the whole train. We need to reach McGonagal and get organised. Are you coming?"

Grumbling at being commanded by Harry Potter of all people, Ron began to walk towards the front of the train, leaving his three friends to follow behind. On the way, Harry began to collect other seventh and sixth years, along with prefects and the DA. By the time they reached the teachers' carriage, those who had decided to fight numbered almost eighty, a force twice that of the dark shadows they could now see firing at the train's protective wards. Hopefully, safety would lie in numbers.

It was Ron who knocked on the door of the staff compartment, and Ron who began to speak as he noticed the worried faces of the teachers. "Professor McGonagal, what is going on? Where is Dumbledore?"

McGonagal's face seemed surprised as she saw the crowd of students, each with their wand out. However, unlike the distressed appearances of some of her fellows, she managed to maintain a show of calm. "Headmaster Dumbledore is defending the abode of the Minister against Voldemort. This is almost certainly a diversion, and the wards will hold."

A sharp jolt against the carriage, and the lights flickered off for a moment, leaving the students looking around in fear. Annoyed at the lack of preparation, Harry pressed forward. "But what if that attack is the diversion, Professor? What if Voldemort's real plan is not to kill Fudge, but to kill three hundred future opponents? What are we going to do to defend ourselves?"

"If, Mr Potter, and that is a big if, the wards are breached, the staff and I are quite capable of holding off the Death Eaters long enough to enable you students to escape."

"Five staff against almost forty death eaters, each skilled in Dark Magic and relentless in the pursue of their goals? I'm sorry, Professor, but with odds like that, there is no time for the majority of students, who are unable to apparate and would easily be spotted by any of the Death Eaters."

"What are we going to do?" a Hufflepuff sixth year whimpered, her fear clearly shared by most of her year mates.

"Nice going, Potter," Ron murmured, Harry merely growling in response. Determined to engage in damage control, Ron confidently told the students to calm down. "We outnumber the Death Eaters, and we're all trained in defence. If we work together, we're certain to drive them back."

"But who will lead us?" the Hufflepuff asked.

"I –"

Ron's unfinished statement was interrupted by Professor Vector. "Mister Weasley, I have no doubt you are skilled in strategy and tactics, evidenced in your role in the war effort. However, you are far too young and inexperienced to assume the position of leader," she told him quietly.

"Mister Potter could do it," Professor McGonagal said firmly.

Astonished exclamations echoed around the carriage. Sure, Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived, and everyone expected him to beat Voldemort, but he hardly ever engaged in battles, and he was even younger than Ron. Plus, he hadn't had any extra training during the holidays, safely ensconced with his muggle relatives. Incensed, Ron laughed loudly. "Harry? Sure, he's won before, but all he has is luck. Where is his skill?"

Hermione hit Ron, silencing him, and Harry merely glared, but most of the students seemed to share Ron's beliefs. Astonished that the young mister Weasley had turned against his friend so, Professor McGonagal contended herself with saying, "He has been having lessons from a great tutor."

Astonished, his friends and year mates stared at him. "Why didn't you tell us you were having lessons?" Hermione whispered, while Harry merely stared at the Professor, wondering how she knew his secret.

Resolving to save that mystery for a less dangerous time, Harry returned his attention to the students. "Very well," he said, leaving no room for disagreement. "From my calculations, the wards will fall within the next five minutes. I would like everyone under seventeen to quietly move all the younger students to the rear of the train, since the Death Eaters seem to be focused up here. When the wards break, quietly open the windows and doors and help everyone escape into the forest. Hopefully, they'll be safe there until the Aurors come or the battle is over.

"Can any of you perform disillusionment charms?" A dozen students raised their hands, mostly members of the DA. "Excellent. Try and disillusion as many of the students as possible, it'll help keep them safe. Do not attempt to join us under any circumstances - your job is more important. That includes you, Ginevra." A red-headed girl glared at him, but he ignored her, asking them all if his instructions were clear. Nodding, the students filed out, leaving behind just under forty seventh year students and the five staff members.

"What now?" Neville asked, "We don't outnumber them any more!"

Harry sighed. "I know, Neville, but it's the only way. Otherwise we'll lose the younger years, and we can't let that happen. Dumbledore has his ways; he'll be here soon enough. We just have to hold them off until he gets here with the order. Can we do that?"

Resolutely, his companions nodded, and Harry continued. "You six," he began, pointing out Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Eloise Midgen, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, "Cover their retreat. That means climbing on the roof and distracting anyone from looking in that direction." The six girls nodded and moved next to the windows, ready to climb the moment the wards broke.

"As for the rest of us, we're going to attack the Death Eaters head on. They'll be temporarily confused when the wards break, we'll have to be quick to take advantage of that. Draco, Ron, Professors, we'll lead the charge, try to divert the enemy so the others can attack. Don't kill anyone if you can avoid it – we want them live and interrogated. Is that clear?"

Students and teachers alike nodded, grasping their wands firmly in their hands. "Then go!" Harry shouted as the wards broke, the shock wave hurling many of the Death Eaters backwards. Without wasting a moment, Harry plunged through the nearest window, with the rest of the students behind him, each determined not to go down without a fight. After all, it was not only themselves they were protecting – it was the future of the Wizarding World.

Review Responses:

Thanks TC, hyouden.

KlondikeBar: Well, I'll try to impress you, then :)

Strega: Ah, but we are seeing this primarily from Harry's point of view, and therefore we don't always hear what Severus means. When he says Harry reminds him of someone, there is almost no one positive for him to be reminded of. He is, in fact, being reminded of himself.

There's more to Severus' meeting of Harry, but you'll only learn Severus' side slowly. After all, he's hardly going to reveal all his secrets straight away ;) Go Snape! D