Title: Signore Delle Ombre

Author: The-Writer-Formerly-Known-As

Summary: The Summer before sixth year, Harry finds himself abandoned by those that call themselves the light. Sent to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit, he is forced to explore his growing and unusual powers, make new alliances, and form a new inner circle with those whose loyalties did not waver- although they are few, far between, and those that Harry would not have turned to before. Let the Battle Begin.

Character Types: Betrayed! Superpowered! Harry, Evil! Dumbledore, Stupid! Blind! Order of the Chicken, various others you will have to find throughout

SHIPs: Nada. None. Zip. Zero. Cero.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter… wait, wait…. pulls out Identification Card…. Okay, nope- don't own Harry Potter. 

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah! And apologies: this is un-betaed, please forgive minor mistakes of a sleep-deprived, over sugar-filled author.  (So Sorry for the Shortness)

Do or Do Not- There is no Try.

-Yoda

Chapter Five: Classes and Councils

"I have agreed to teach this course to you during the summer, at a great sacrifice to my personal time." Snape announced. "As such, I expect all of you to put the greatest amount of effort you have into this course. No fooling around will be tolerated."

As Snape made his speech, Neville looked around, cataloguing all the other's reactions.

Blaise Zabini. The only son and heir of the once neutral pureblood family, he had remained relatively out of view during their school years, so far. His family, too, had attempted to remain out of sight and neutral during the first war, until the Heir to the family at the time, Blaise's father, had been brutally tortured and murdered by the Dark Lord for refusing to join the Deatheaters. With days, Blaise's mother and paternal Grandfather had come to Dumbledore and joined the Order of the Phoenix.

Susan Bones, who was cautiously watching Neville out of the corner of her eye- the clumsy Gryffindor knew he'd have to be careful not to slip up before she could discover the truth for herself. Neville had partnered in Herbology a few times with the Hufflepuff, and knew her to be incredibly smart, although not the overwhelming know-it-all smart that Granger possessed. Neville was slightly more comfortable with her than the rest of the group, although he couldn't count her as a friend, per say. Her Aunt, Amelia Bones, the new Minister, was a firm supporter of the Light, although she was slightly wary of what she called the Order's vigilante tactics. Still, she and her family had been at The Meeting, because Dumbledore was desperately campaigning for the Bones' to join, and Amelia was slowly giving in.

For Neville, the two Ravenclaws were the enigmas to him. Lisa Turpin and Padma Patil's families were both heavily involved with Dumbledore's Order, and the two girls had most likely heard stories of the wonders of Dumbledore while still drinking their mother's milk. And yet… they had taken the side of a boy Dumbledore had denounced, a boy whose best friends claimed he was evil incarnate, a boy they barely knew…Harry Potter.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Tonks asked, hesitantly. Neville looked at her, startled to see her appearance now resembled that of Harry's, including the lightning bolt.

"Yes, Nymphadora?" The Headmaster asked, leaning back and popping a lemon drop in his mouth.

"If you don't mind my asking, I know that when an Auror does an interview, it is common practice to make a transcript of the interrogation. May I see the transcript from Harry's...Potter's" she amended hastily, at the nasty looks thrown her way. "interrogation, please?"

"Of course, my dear." Dumbledore said, waving his hand to produce a thick stack of paper and to distribute it to everyone at the meeting. "After all, my old eyes might have missed an additional charge to add to the list. After all, a few more charges and we could give him the Dementor's Kiss."

Neville felt sick as he reached out and grabbed the transcript. Hermione and Ron looked so smug, and he couldn't believe that they could do this to their own friend, even if he was really guilty. He glanced down at the list with a frown, starting to read.

Aberforth Dumbledore frowned to himself thoughtfully as he read the latest news from the Wizarding World. His younger brother had, in one selfish and rash movement, undid over a Century of the Council's- and more, specifically, Aberforth's- work.

Damn him. He had not thought it time- he had not wanted it to be time- but the events had forced his hand, and he knew he had to contact the others. The others, who would have, more likely then not, already read the news. And Panicking. Aberforth added silently to himself. After all, only Aberforth could call a meeting, and the members of the Council were not allowed to contact each other outside of The Hall, for reasons of secrecy.

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of his chair, grabbed a bit of floo powder, threw it into the fire, and watched the fire turn green. Stepping into the fire, he called out in a loud voice that did not sound like it could come from such an old man, one which echoed even after he was gone, "Azkaban Hall!"

When all of the delegates had gathered, Aberforth surveyed them with a sigh. Three others beside himself gathered, burdened by the grief and strife that had torn them, their families, and, ultimately, the Council, apart.

There should have been nine people, gathered here.

When the Family had been almost entirely wiped out, at a time when Aberforth himself had been but a year old, and Albus was yet to be conceived, the Council had been carefully established to protect and serve. Nine Houses, who had been loyal to the Family for centuries, were chosen to provide delegates- three Dark, three Grey, three Light.

Great misfortune had befallen all nine houses, and the four seats filled were members of dying families themselves. Aberforth, himself, of course, knew he would never entrust his position as Head of the Council and a representative of the first Grey family, the Dumbledores, to his younger brother. Albus was simply too blinded by what his personal goals were and could not conceive of the idea of doing something for the good of his own family, let alone another family entirely. Regulus Black stood as the last representative of the Dark families, and could not pass on his position, with no viable offspring of his own, and his elder brother, who should have been here, on the run and clueless of his family's true alliances. Perhaps worst of all, he had been declared dead by the Ministry of Magic, was wanted by the Dark Lord, causing him to be confined to the Council Chambers for his own safety, by order of Aberforth, whose last desperate- and seemingly impossible- hope was to see the Council whole again before his passing. Patrick Patil, older than Aberforth himself, who had lost his son in the confusion during Grindlewald's reign and had never found him again, the representative of the second Grey family. Last but not least, the only surviving light representative, Gideon Prewitt, who had been forced to fake his own death to ensure not only the survival of his newly wedded sister, but that of the legacy of his family and the survival of the Family.

Aberforth was well aware that between two assumed dead men in the ranks, himself, and an old man, the Council had no political connections within the current Ministry. And that made the loss of the families that should have been here all the worse.

The remaining light families, both with politically promising representatives, lay in ruins, one dead defending the Family's heirs, the other tortured into insanity before he could pass on the family legacy. In the case of both of the missing Dark families, one a generation ago, one two generations back, the Heir had murdered the Patriarch, and since only one member of the House could hold the secret of the Family and the Council at a time, which meant that the secret was passed on upon the moment of death, the secret had never been passed on. Perhaps the saddest case of all was the last Grey family. Two generations back, the secret had been passed on to the House's final member, a young female still at school who had taken her membership of the Council very seriously. And then tragedy had struck in the form of her premature death, while she was still at school. Members of the Council had been the only attendees of her funeral.

But, Aberforth thought determinedly. I am not here to mourn the slow decline and fall of the Council, but to ensure the safety of the very thing the Council was founded to protect. And with that in mind, he sighed and stood up to formally open the Council session.

"Well?" Severus asked, looking across the sole table in the living room in his personal quarters towards Neville Longbottom. "Do you think it's time?"

"Do you?" The young Gryffindor returned. The past few weeks, Severus found he actually enjoyed teaching. All the people he and Neville had selected were intelligent and serious individuals willing to devote themselves entirely to their work, and the subject areas of Potions and Herbology. Of course, that hadn't been the reason the students had been picked, but Severus had been overjoyed to discover his work would not go to waste.

After a slight hesitation in which the Potions Master glanced warily towards the fireplace as to assure himself that no one was listening in, and a spell to keep eavesdroppers at bay was cast, Severus sighed. "Yes, I do."

Neville nodded thoughtfully. Working with Snape had been more pleasant then he had thought. He had found more in common with the grumpy ex-Slytherin than the original reason of the shared grievance, and was almost sad to see the start of school and the lose the easy companionship he had gained with the man.

But the start of school was the reason the co-conspirators knew they must hurry. There were three days left in the special course the two had thought up to achieve their aims, the fourth day would be spent getting school supplies, and the fifth day would be the onset of school again. Because of it all, Neville and the Potions Master were preparing to take the final step with a slight amount of hurry, knowing that the closer they got to school, the easier it would be for the Headmaster to detect what the two were up to, with the return of his loyal spies and the flock of Order members that had begun their descent on Hogwarts.

"Whatever happens," Neville said quietly, "I just wanted to say it has been an honor working with you."

Severus managed a small smile for the formerly clumsy boy. "Gryffindors," He drawled, "sometimes you're so sentimental…" With one last nod, Neville headed off to bed for a night of restless contemplation.

The first thing Harry was aware of was the silence. Over the weeks, he had heard screams in his head, felt them vibrate eerily against his skull; the screams of both Harry's past and Voldemort's present. He knew, even from his cell, that Voldemort was gaining more strength and followers with every passing day- the people who entered Harry's head proved it. Although Harry did not know any of them personally, Voldemort's tendency to gloat to his victims had revealed the people's positions, and Harry knew that the positions mentioned were highly coveted and revered in the Wizarding World. Sadly, the idiot Minister Fudge had not been among the screams.

So, as the importance of silence made its way into Harry's head, the teen looked up…and stared into the face of the oldest man he had ever seen. He squinted. "Dumbledore? How long have I been in here?"

Someone chuckled, and a person that looked oddly familiar stepped out from behind the old man. "Wrong Dumbledore, lad. And you might want to step back." The younger man said, before stepping out of view, the old man hastily drawing back after him.

Harry frowned, dazed, confused and still not thinking straight from the aftereffects of the manmade Dementors. He barely blinked when the younger man kicked in the door, pulverizing it into tiny pieces. "Well that's nice…" He said unsteadily, before fainting into the blissful and welcoming depths of unconsciousness, which had eluded him for so long.

With a sigh, Aberforth beckoned to Regulus to pick up the limp adolescent and carry him out of the cell. The old man only turned around once, to conjure a dead body replica of the teen in Regulus' arms, and a door to cover the cell once again.

Susan Bones sat patiently, a feeling of anticipation building inside of her. Neville had seemed oddly excited today, throwing quick, analytical glances towards all the members of the group. At the same time, she felt a sense of relief. The mystery she had come to solve could be completed today.

She noticed the three others also looking curiously Neville. So I wasn't the only one to suspect something was up. She thought to herself, determinedly making her way to the Potions classroom a little early, registering the others following behind her, Neville looking tired and restless, but at the same time, eager.

Precisely on time, as usual, Professor Snape swept into the room, black robes billowing behind him. Does he wear any color besides black? She wondered absently before focusing on the Potions Professor as he began to talk.

"Today," He spoke authoritatively, "We will be making a Potion that allows us to not only detect if our minds have been tampered with, but remove any influences by spells or Potions, also."

Susan allowed confusion to wash over herself; Why does Neville look so enthusiastic? She wondered, before devoting herself to her Potion.

In front of her, Severus Snape hid his triumphant smile. Soon, he thought, exchanging a glance with Longbottom, soon…

REVIEW!