A/N:

Thank-you to everyone who reviewed!

HBP spoilers, guys! Sorry but I'm tying in the sixth book now.

Disclaimer: I OWN JACK SQUAT…. sigh but not Harry Potter. Nope… Damnit.

------24------

Draco woke, but he did not open his eyes. He felt someone lying beside him, felt an arm wrapped around him, a chest against his crossed arms, and the occasionally feeling of breath on his neck. Opening an eye, barely, Draco saw Harry peacefully slumbering at his side. Draco smiled, amidst his abdominal and head pain. Yet, it seemed to have lessened.

Harry yawned, and for a moment Draco thought about closing his eyes and feigning sleep to see what would happen, but he just felt so at ease and watched as Harry stretched and opened his eyes. Harry turned back onto his side and stared at Draco, blinking slowly.

"'Ello, love," he whispered, kissing Draco on the forehead; "Survive while I was gone, I see…"

"Oh, ha-hah," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes; "for your information, I haven't been feeling well," he said quietly, looking dejected and hurt.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, embracing his love again; "I'm sorry I took so long, I should have been here for you…"

"You had to go," Draco said; "So, how was your trip?" he looked up at Harry curiously.

"Well, I saw Sirius, and he's okay," Harry replied; "Then, I talked with Sabet…"

"And what did our 'president' have to say?" Draco asked jokingly.

Harry chuckled and shrugged; "Not a whole lot," he replied; "Just… he said he was going to come around soon…"

"No way!" Draco gasped; "That is so asininely foolhardy it almost tops your past acts of stupidity!"

"Hey now!" Harry said; "Watch it," he said quietly, his nose touching Draco's; "Or I might have to punish you…" he whispered seductively.

"As much as I would love to, Harry, no," Draco said; "I don't feel well at all."

"Well, lucky it's a Saturday, then," Harry whispered; "I'm so tired, anyway…"

Draco rolled his eyes; "You're a mystery…"

"A mystery with aching shoulders," Harry said, twisting his back for a second. Several popping sounds replied to the action.

"Ooh," Draco said; "That sounded like it hurt."

Harry, having bitten his bottom lip, only nodded as he lay back down. Draco couldn't help but chuckle.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Halloween and Thanksgiving went by without a hitch. Harry had yet to call a DA meeting since the first report of severe Death Eater attacks. Parents were taking their children out like they were about to be kidnapped, and he was focusing on his homework. Remus had been pulled from his post as DADA teacher, Dumbledore having needed him elsewhere. Since, Snape had taken the place, and a new Teacher, Slughorn, had come instead. The new Potions professor had instantly taken a liking to Harry, and had invited him to a social more than once. Harry did not like the fat, aging man, and had declined as many times as he could.

With Christmas on the horizon, and an upcoming Hogsmeade visit, Harry thought that now, before more chaos erupted, that now would be the time to act. During lunch, he decided to put his plan into action.

SO he strode over to the Gryffindor table. Seamus and Dean, who seemed to becoming steadily ostracized by their own house, nodded to Harry, and he nodded to them. He stood behind Hermione and Ron, and both turned around to look at him.

"Can we help you?" Hermione asked calmly, though she looked at Harry as if her were insignificant.

"DA, tonight, I think now is the right time," Harry said with an air of finality.

Hermione stared at him, and then slowly nodded. Turning around, she looked up and down the table, and then pulled out the infamous coin. Whispering over it, it glowed, and then began to vibrate. Harry looked around and saw many people jumping out of their seats in surprise, but sure enough, at least thirty pulled out their coins and then looked over towards Him. Harry inwardly smirked. What a night this was turning out to be.

"How about eight?" Hermione suggested, looking up at Harry again.

"Eight is perfect, Hermione," Harry said kindly; "Thank-you."

And with that he turned on his heel and walked back to his seat. Draco was off at the Ravenclaw table, talking with several people Harry knew to be sixth years, and when Draco began walking back to the table, Harry could tell the blonde had been up to mischief making.

"What are you up to, Draco?" Harry asked quietly as Draco sat down beside him.

Draco grinned mischievously as he reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice, sipping on it with a giddy air about him; "Well? Tell me!" Harry said, chuckling as he poked Draco in his side and caused Draco to stumble in his charade.

Draco coughed and pumpkin juice seemed to come out of his nose. He wiped his face with a napkin, and then looked at Harry; "I was just spreading the word about the little get together you've been planning on," he replied innocently.

Harry knew there was more to it, but he did not pry. He was about to reply, but at that moment, he heard a resoundingly loud caw fill the Great Hall. Oswarae flew in through the owl shoot, a scroll in tow. The bird flew over Harry, the scroll landed in front of his plate, and the bird mad a u-turn to grab a roll before coming back to land. As the raven pecked at the bread Harry stroked his head, and then looked at the scroll.

Very familiar handwriting depicted his name on the scroll, and Harry unrolled it eagerly.

Dear Harry,

Hope you're school year has been going well. My situation is… good to where I can't complain, I'm learning a lot and I enjoy where I'm at. I miss you and Moonie, though. Sebastian thinks that there may be a chance I could visit, but the moment must be right.

Sending my love,

Padfoot

p.s.

Tonight's supposed to be a memorable night. Good luck.

Harry sighed, and rolled the parchment up. Oswarae looked up from his roll at Harry, and Harry glanced at the raven. The bird hopped over and tilted his head in curiosity. Harry held the scroll open for a moment, and Oswarae clicked his beak once he had looked at it. Harry rolled it up and put it in one of his pockets.

"Well?" Draco asked.

"Tonight's supposed to be memorable," Harry replied; "and he wishes us good luck."

Draco nodded; /Do you think my mother will come as well/ he projected.

/I dunno/ Harry replied. /Sabet probably won't let her. He might think it would be safer for her, to stay in hiding.../

Draco nodded; "Seems smart," he said.

Harry nodded, then rose; "Where are you going?" Draco asked, about to rise.

"It's okay, I'm just looking around;" Harry muttered, doing as he said. His eyes found the staff table, and stared at the center.

An empty chair.

Harry sat back down; "Where is Dumbledore?" he asked.

Draco, with a confused look on his face, looked at the staff table, then back at Harry. With a mouth full of food he could only shrug, then he swallowed and said; "I don't know."

Harry looked down at the table for a moment, then over to Oswarae. The bird was picking up crumbs, but looked up at Harry. He cawed quietly, walking over (as ravens did, Harry noticed, walk, unlike most birds who hopped).

/When Dumbledore returns.../ Harry projected to the raven. /I want you to follow him. Discretely, sit outside his office if you wish. Also, he has a phoenix, so be wary of that. Okay/ He stroked the bird's sleek feathers again, and Oswarae cawed enthusiastically before flying off.

"Well, there goes the dark pigeon," Draco said under his breath, chuckling. Harry shoved him, and Draco fell back onto the floor.

Harry laughed as he helped Draco up. "Don't ever call him that," he said, though in a happy tone he hinted at a warning.

Draco nodded; "Didn't know you were that attached to the bird;" he said.

"Well, I am," Harry said; "He's a good pet and a good friend."

Draco rolled his eyes; "Whatever," Draco said; "A bird's a bird to me."

The rest of the day went by smoothly. By dinner, there was a sense of anxiety that seemed to flood the room. Many students were talking about the resurrection of the DA. Harry walked in with Draco and the Hall hushed for a bit, and then erupted with whispers. They sat at their usual places, and Harry scanned the room again.

Still an empty chair at the staff table.

"He's probably off doing secret business," Draco said, noticing Harry's lack of focus on the conversation he was having with Blaise and Pansy; "We've got bigger matters, though, so pay attention."

Harry turned to see the three, and Pansy continued; "Anyway, I'm expecting maybe ten Slytherins, mostly fourth years. And as for Draco's rendezvous with the Ravenclaw, I think they'll show. And the Hufflepuff losers will come if they feel like stepping out of their safety zone. As for Gryffindor, well," she paused; "It's obvious that they'll show."

Harry nodded; "We're all going to have to show some power," he said; "So everyone else will know that we mean business."

Blaise cracked the knuckles of his wand hand; "Just say when, mate," he said with a devilish grin, "just say when."

Harry smirked; "That's the spirit."

Dumbledore sighed after he came through the fire of his office. Fawkes, his loyal phoenix, cooed softly, and Dumbledore walked over to pet the regal bird.

"Ah, my friend, what a day it has been," Dumbledore said as he sat behind his desk. He began to pore over documents that had been placed on his desk.

And hour of uneventful time passed. Dumbledore was ready to go to bed when he felt a sudden chill. Looking t his window, he watched as winds rattled the panes, shook the glass, and finally, the windows flew open and Dumbledore saw the figure of a man standing on the ledge. Polished boots stepped down, followed by dark clothes and a darker cloak billowing around them. Dumbledore looked at his unexpected visitor. Porcelain skin, dark hair and amber eyes, a Romanesque nose and high cheek bones, a handsome face all around; but Dumbledore knew the face ,all too well, and it was old with memory.

"Morste," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair as secretly his hand acquired his wand; "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Put your wand down, Albus, I have never come to you hostilely;" Sabet said quietly; "I have only come to discuss my race's place in your wizard's war."

"I would hardly call it just a wizard's war," Albus said, sitting; "But please, do come and sit."

Sabet did just that, and for a moment, the two men sat down across from each other, staring at each other, sizing the other up, finding weaknesses. Then Sabet began; "How is Harry Potter, Albus?"

"He is a teenage boy, Morste, what else can be said?" Albus asked with a chuckle.

Sabet moved in his seat, his elbows resting on the arms as he held his hands together, up to his chin as he thought and analyzed; "I was merely curious," he finally replied; "I mean, I am a 'fugitive', I do not have time to hear the news while I am busy insuring safety for those who need it."

"Morste, I defended you during your hearing," Dumbledore said; "But even the Wizengamot would not hear of anything. You're a proven vampire, and they feel that vampires are murderers."

"But you and I both know the truth," Sabet said bitterly, looking away for a moment; "Well, this is not about me, Albus," he said after another pause; "This is about both of our futures, the children here in your hallowed school."

"Morste, if you know anything and you are being childish by not telling me—" Dumbledore began.

But Sabet held up his hand; "Albus, what I am about to tell you cannot be repeated," He said; "Tom Riddle has offered us a place in his army, and I a spot at his side when the war has ended and he has prevailed…"

"And, your answer was…?" Dumbledore asked slowly.

"No," Sabet said; "As of now, anyway. Albus, tell the Council to grant me amnesty. If I have that, I will be able to persuade so many to come to your side, to our side, and out of Voldemort's power. You do not realize how vital it would be. Albus, listen to me! I have hundreds under my care, I cannot continue hiding away from the world, I am thinking of my people and those who I care for when I ask for freedom!"

Dumbledore sighed, "Morste, I could try, and I could win you your amnesty," he said; "But the majority of the community would rather see you hanged than standing before them, preaching unity—"

"Preaching, you call it," Morste said; "Albus, you preach. Your Order Preaches. You say you are 'just saying…' Yet, whenever I come to speak, I am chased with burning torches and wooden stakes! Albus, I am an intelligent individual who has seen more than you've put in your library. Albus, there are children here that I am helping, even now. There are young men who, at sixteen, have been thrown into a world they never asked for, maybe never even wanted. There are children who must run from those they love monthly and mutilate themselves rather than the populace that would condemn them. Albus, I run a haven, and if I cannot represent it without shackles then I might as well not run it!

"But I do, I do, Albus! And now, for them, I have come here, where I know there are Ministry sons and daughters here, ready to turn me in. Please, try as hard as you can, grant me amnesty, or if that cannot be so, be my voice! You say that we are friends, that I have helped you immensely in the past. But now it is I who needs help, Albus. I and so many others..."

Dumbledore felt great sympathy for the vampire. He knew Sabet to be a strong willed and proud man, and to see him, open and almost desperate, asking for help, was nearly too much for the old wizard.

"Morste, I will gladly help you;" Albus said.

Sabet smiled slightly; "Thank-you," he said gratefully. But in the back of his mind, a plan was forming, and he mentally checked off the first thing on the list to said plan.

"But tell me, Morste, you mentioned students here who you were aiding?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, I did," Sabet replied; "But I would not tell you, for I feel that it is their right, not mine, to do so."

"Ever the righteous man," Dumbledore said, nodding; "Morste, tell me, have you ever… met… Tom Riddle?"

"Of course," Sabet replied; "many of times. But, not in the past few years."

"Did you notice anything he seemed to hold particularly high, for an ordinary object?"

Sabet studied the old man, tried to delve into his mind. But it became clear at what Dumbledore was getting at.

"As in one of his Horuxes?" Sabet asked, one eyebrow rising with knowing criticism.

Dumbledore did not acknowledge him for a moment, then he said; "How did you know?"

"Well, Albus, I too, am in search of these instruments of immortality," he explained; "I have only found two, though, a small china cup once owned by one of the founding mothers of Hogwarts, Helga Hufflepuff, and a small, broken yellow yo-yo. I found the latter to be most intriguing, but never the less, ingenious."

"Where was the yo-yo?" Dumbledore asked curiously, leaning forward slightly.

"At an orphanage I went to," Sabet replied; "I could only assume it was where Tom himself had come from."

"Your assumptions are correct, Morste," Dumbledore said; "You seem to know a lot about Tom… how?"

Sabet sighed; "Many meetings while he worked at that store in Knockturn Alley, Albus, many meetings," he replied tiresomely.

"Ah, of course," Dumbledore said; "And what were you doing there?"

"Getting goods, for potions, of course," Sabet said; "I cannot go anywhere else without being arrested;" he paused; "How else can I conjure something that can suppress a vampire's cravings when the time comes? All of my kind, that I know of, take it annually."

"What a concoction, Morste!" Dumbledore said; "It must have been a complicated mixture. When the time comes, you should discuss its contents with Severus…"

"Severus? Severus Snape?" Sabet asked; "The Death Eater?"

"No, Spy, Morste," Dumbledore corrected in a definitely teacher fashion; "He is on the Light's side, to be sure."

"Albus, I highly doubt as much," Sabet said, with a hint of anxiety; "I thought you knew better than to even think a Death Eater would be entirely separated from Voldemort!"

"Severus is faithful, Morste," Dumbledore said; "Why, just this past summer, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter themselves stayed at his home in Hogsmeade…"

"Because I had some of my people closely tracking them," Morste said; "Once, we had to obliterate the memories of Death Eaters so that they could not find the home again, or alert Snape. And what is it that you've given him your defense against the Dark Arts position as teacher? You might as well hand over those children's minds to Voldemort on a silver platter!"

"Sadly, you are not the only one to tell me this," Dumbledore said; "But I assure you, I know what I am doing."

Sabet looked at his shoes, then sighing he rose; "I do hope that you do, Albus," he said, staring at the man almost blankly; "For everyone's sakes, you had better."

He reached into a pocket in his cloak, and he brought out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, he laid it on Dumbledore's desk, and simply said; "Please get this to Harry Potter, Albus."

Albus picked up the paper and looked at it, then up at Sabet; "It's blank," he stated.

"Of course it is," Sabet said simply; "Good evening, Albus."

He walked to the window, and as he stepped onto the ledge and lifted himself out, he vanished.

Harry carefully buttoned up his shirt, after showering and redressing. He was slightly nervous about tonight, about how it would go, anyway. Draco too, seemed anxious. He was bustling around the room, doing tasks that had already been done.

"Draco, let's go," Harry said suddenly.

"It's only seven thirty—" Draco began, but when eh turned around he saw Harry had already left. Rolling his eyes he grabbed his robes and found Harry talking with Blaise and Pansy.

"We're going in early, guys," he was saying; "Do either of you know about the Room of Requirement?"

"I have," Pansy said; "It becomes any kind of room you want it to be, right?"

Harry nodded; "That's where the meetings have been. When we get there though, we'll change it around a bit."

Draco rubbed his hands together; "Let's go, then," he said.

They left the Common Rooms and hurried up the stairs. When they reached the right place, Harry stood in front of apparently blank, solid wall.

"We want a place to train, to teach, to prepare. We want a place to do these things in solitude, away from the world's prying eyes," Harry thought, over and over again.

Draco, Pansy, and Blaise watched with fascination as a door materialized out of no where. Harry opened his eyes and smiled, turning to the three; "Well, ready?" he asked, hand grasping the doorknob.

The others nodded, and Harry opened the door.

They all walked into a veritable wonder land. On one side of the wall was a mountain of books, scrolls, and documents. Beside there were cabinets of potions and ingredients. There were chairs and tables, a blazing fire, and a vast space in the c enter of it all large enough to hold a hundred people with space to spare. The walls rose and rose, the ceiling was animated and showed a night sky.

"This is… amazing," Pansy gasped, clutching Blaise's arm as she looked around.

Blaise nodded, "Let's set up, then!" he said eagerly.

Narcissa was living well. Fully healed, she had taken to teaching some of the younger children at Sabet's mansion, in hopes that they would still have dignity in who they were. She had seven students in all, three young boys, afflicted type one lycanthropes, another boy who was a type three lycanthrope, two little girls with mothers who had been sirens, and another little boy who seemed normal to Narcissa. He had no scars, no odd physical features, only his bright, striking blue eyes. But never the less, she taught them of the outside, about transfiguration, potions, people on brooms and of course, streets where you could play. She found it sad that these children eagerly hung onto her every word, but she was affected by the feeling of being needed.

But now, it was in the evening, the children had gone with their parents or had been sent to bed. Narcissa sat in a sitting room, just off of the main foyer. She sat in a large overstuffed chair, sipping on warm tea with brandy while she watched the fire blaze. But her calm exterior hid the exact opposite that churned within her.

Narcissa had always been exceptionally perceptive, and an amazing witch. She was very thoughtful, and it did not take her longer than a week to understand the entire workings of the home she now called her own. She had figured out where all the best books were kept, when to go to the kitchens and have ample time to cook, where to find the secret potion ingredients, where to find everything. She also knew where Sabet held his meetings, in the parlor that, when occupied, the door became a vacant wall.

The blonde witch sighed with resignation and sorrow. Oh how she missed her child. It had been months now, why had she not gone to see her baby boy? Why had he not come to see her? Perhaps it was the brandy putting thoughts into her head, but for a moment Narcissa thought to get up and leave to find her only child.

But she was struck with sober reality. She couldn't leave, no, not now. There was a price on her head, a price dolled out by death, and fulfilled by gratitude from the Dark Lord. Narcissa hated herself for conceding into that horrible group, and how she had watched her husband being driven mad by Voldemort and did nothing.

"I'm a fool," Narcissa whispered to no one in particular, a thought she said and that it was only.

"No, you're not…"

Narcissa jumped with surprise as she looked to the entrance, and saw a handsome man standing in the doorway. He had dark hair, a very lean and healthy physique, wore dark, casual clothes that brought out the wild hazel in his eyes. What was his name, Faust Ulrich?

"And how can you be sure?" Narcissa asked in a morbid, curious voice.

Faust moved over, and brought a chair with him. He sat to the side of Narcissa, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands together on his knee. Narcissa studied his body language and came to one conclusion: he was of noble decent.

"Well, madam, if we were allto call ourselves fools, who then would be our philosophers and ground breakers?"

Narcissa smirked; "A very educated opinion, no doubt," she concurred; "but still it does not reassure me…" she sighed, and looked at Faust; "So, why aren't you with all of your friends?"

"I am here, keeping watch while Sabet is on leave," Faust replied simply.

"He leaves? He has courage, for sure."

"He does what he must to keep this castle running," Faust mused; "Tell me, Narcissa, are you comfortable here? I only want the best for our guests."

"I am very comfortable, Faust," Narcissa said; "But I miss my son," she said quietly, looking down sadly.

Faust nodded; "Well, Christmas is not so far away," he said quietly.

"True," she whispered, looking at him and smiling slightly with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

They sat in silence, companionable and quaint. But soon their peace was disrupted by banging of immeasurable quantity. Faust and Narcissa rushed from the seats and to the foyer, where Faust rushed to open the front doors. Several others came down the stairs somewhat, but Narcissa waved them away.

Faust stepped outside, and a young girl fell into his arms. She was wet, and dirty, as if she had been running through the hillside during a storm. Faust sensed something about her that he could not deny nor agree upon. Picking thefragile figure up, he walked inside. He called two men over to close the doors, and laid the stranger on the tile .Narcissa bent down on the opposite side of the girl.

She had red hair, with raven colored streaks. She had fairly healthy colored skin and rosy cheeks, a frail figure and green tattered robes with a black cloak. Faust saw a white wand roll away from the girl, and Narcissa picked it up. It had a golden band around the bottom.

"I've never seen a wand like this before!" she said, holding it out to Faust.

Narcissa looked back at the girl, seeing that her eyes were barely opened. Amber, the color of fire, orbs stared at her throug hthick eyelashes. The girl seemed to smile, before closing her eyes and letting her headroll to the side.

Faust took the wand and looked at it; "I… let us focus on her first," he said distractedly; "I'll carry her to one of the Chambers. You go find Adam," he said to a random person from the crowd; "Narcissa, accompany me."

Narcissa nodded, and they went up the stairs. Faust chose to open a large oak door on the third floor and they entered a green and violet room. He went over and laid the girl on the large bed; "Uh, you may need to change her clothing," he said, turning to Narcissa.

"Okay, turn around," she said, and Faust walked over to the other side of the room before turning around.

Narcissa sighed and looked at the girl. Taking out her own wand, she waved it over the girl, and with her wand, the clothing went as well, seeming to peel away. Narcissa directed them into a neat pile on the floor, then brought her wand back up the girl's thin and frail form. Narcissa wondered if the girl had been neglected; she could count her ribs and her hip bones seemed to rise like mountains out of her body. Narcissa had never gone hungry, but she could only imagine the ache of the need for food and felt a wave of pity for the strange girl.

Finally a nightgown had been conjured and covered the girl; "Okay, Faust," Narcissa called quietly as she manually tucked the girl in. she sat on the edge of the bed, watching the girl's chest slowly rise and fall in a motherly fashion.

"Narcissa, were there any marks, signs of a struggle?" Faust asked as he crossed his arms and staring down at the girl.

Narcissa nodded; "Sings of a struggle with life," she said solemnly, then she looked up at Faust with angry eyes; "I could count out every rib, she wasn't fed!"

"We'll help her, Narcissa," Faust said, Narcissa fixing her eyes again on the girl.

Just then the door opened and Adam came in, a small box levitating behind him. "Geez, what did this poor thing go through?" he asked with shock as Narcissa and Faust backed away to give the doctor room.

Narcissa knew why he had said that. The girl's facial features were gaunt, she had dark circles under her eyes, and she was anemic as well, probably.

"Alright, Faust, open up that box," Adam instructed as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of the night gown. The girl's sternum was visible now, pale and rising, casting a grey shadow on her skin.

Faust opened up the box, and saw bandage wraps, six potions, and another smaller wooden box; "Quick, get the wooden box and get the sticks with the purple ends on them," Adam said as he conjured incense burners.

Faust obeyed and handed Adam the incense. They were lit, and Adam stretched out his hand. A vial full of clear liquid floated from the box and into his open palm. He uncorked it and poured some of the contents into his hand.

"dê outra possibilidade para esta criança, Dá outra possibilidade para esta criança…" he sang quietly, sprinkling the girl's chest, over her heart; "substitui-a cicatriza com pele de novo… Dá rasga fresco como orvalho… Traz seu de volta a seu tempo saudáve…l Todo com estes Rosemary…Tomilho da Cor da alfazema…"

He repeated it over and over. Narcissa leaned towards Faust and whispered; "What does he say?"

"give this child another chance," Faust said in time with Faust; "Give this child another chance…replace her scars with skin anew…Give her tears fresh like dew…Bring her back to her healthy time…All with these, Rosemary, Lavender and Thyme."

Narcissa nodded, biting her lip as she watched with wonder. It was more a ritual than a healing. She sensed that Adam's ancestors were gypsies, perhaps. His untraditional methods and lack of visual magic gave the theory some truth. But never the less, she couldn't help but feel as if the room had grown warmer, but her body did not feel warm. No, her soul was being warmed. She wanted to sigh but she dare not even utter a sound.

Finally, Adam stopped in his chant. Very calmly he placed his hand on her head, uttered a word not even Faust could clearly catch, and then backed away. He turned to the two, and said; "Keep her warm, let the incense burn for another hour, monitor her breath. If she wakes, just tell her what happened. I'll come by in the morning. By then, she should have some muscle mass and any scars should be gone. And Narcissa," he said; "Thank-you."

"For what?" Narcissa asked perplexedly.

"I went into her mind, she remembered the love in your eyes before passing out," Adam said with a slight smile; "You know, the harsh exterior you've got still isn't strong enough to hide your eyes."

Unsure of what to say at this, Narcissa remained silent as Adam gathered his things and left.

"You know," Faust said quietly, looking at Narcissa; "He's quite correct," taking her hand in his, he kissed the top of her hand gently. Looking up, he then said; "Good evening, Narcissa."

Now stunned, Narcissa brought the hand to her chest, watching as Faust left, as well. She then looked at the girl in the bed, seeing a faint glow to her skin. Narcissa couldn't help but smile then, for a wave of happiness came over her.

"Here they come," Pansy said.

The large door opened, and Draco, Harry, and Blaise stood still as students came in, led by Ron, Hermione, and to Harry's surprise, Cho. Harry saw that they seemed to be representatives of their houses, but he saw no familiar Hufflepuffs. /just as well/ Harry thought.

"Welcome," Harry said from his seat atop a small mountain of towering books. Gracefully he jumped down; "To the renewal of our army."

"You mean Dumbledore's Army," Hermione correct, standing in front of him with no fear. And she was not afraid, neither was the redhead who stood beside her. But Cho, she was a little nervous. Harry could tell.

"Can't we think for ourselves for once?" Draco moaned, rubbing his hand down his face as he glanced at the ceiling.

"Please, no fighting," Harry said, glancing at him; "I called this in an attempt to sort things out, Hermione," he said gently.

For a moment, Hermione thought she saw a small glimmer of the old Harry for a moment, but she wouldn't kid herself; "Fine, Harry," she said, crossing her arms.

Harry nodded, then backing up he said loudly; "Thank you all for coming!"

The chatter quieted, and Harry smirked; "First, I want to know, how many from Gryffindor have come?"

Twelve hands rose into the air. Hermione held up her hand, as did Ron, though both only did so moderately and appeared very bored.

"Thanks. And from Ravenclaw?"

Nine hands rose, including Cho's. Harry smiled at her, "Thanks. And… Hufflepuff?"

No hands came up. Harry nodded; "Okay, so that makes what, around twenty-five of us? Good. Okay, if you would all find chairs, we'll meet in a circle for something I'd like to call a Round Robin."

Harry moved over to the fire and sat down where Pansy, Blaise, and Draco had already found seats, Draco saving his a spot on a couch. The others soon moved from their spots and did the same, many transfiguring books into chairs. Soon, the scraping and scuffling had subsided, and the room fell quiet. Harry looked around, knowing it was he who was expected to speak first.

"Let me explain a Round Robin;" Harry began; "It's pretty simple. Someone throws a question out, and the floor is open. We can all comment, and then agree on an answer for this question. Then, we start up on a new one."

He waited, and silenced reigned. Then slowly, timidly, a hand rose into the air. It was a girl Harry didn't recognize, she was from Ravenclaw, though, and he didn't ponder it. When Harry nodded, the girl cleared her voice as she lowered her hand.

"Well, I, uh…" she began, looking around; "What can we expect out of this?"

"Well, what would you like to expect out of this?" Draco asked, and to Harry's vague surprise, it was not sardonic or mean. He had not talked to her as if she were stupid. No, he had just, spoken to her normally. /Perhaps I rubbed off on him a bit/ Harry thought.

The girl seemed surprised, but replied none the less; "I… I would like to learn how to protect myself."

"And to know how to protect everyone else," Seamus said suddenly. Everyone looked at him and he continued; "I want to be prepared, I want everyone to. Like it not, we've got a chance here! We could honestly have one hand over the Death Eater's eyes, over our parents'! We could learn things they wouldn't' dare teach us."

"And again, like it or not," Blaise said; "You've got us. Three children of the Dark side who know what the Light is up against."

"We know things you have in your nightmares," Pansy said solemnly, looking down.

Harry looked at her sympathetically. Why had she become so sad so quickly? He looked around at the others, who seemed to understand that the stakes were higher for the Slytherins.

"We will help each other," Harry said; "To grow, to learn, to strengthen."

"And we will be no man's army," Draco said, "But our army."

"I think we should keep the name," someone, a Gryffindor Harry knew as Romilda, said timidly.

"Why?" Harry asked placidly.

"Well, Dumbledore's our… our headmaster! I think we owe it to him since we're holding illegal meetings in his school!" Romilda said.

"Can't you think outside the box?" Draco asked, standing; "Listen, I know that most of you here are loyal to that wizard, and by all means, go ahead, pledge your life to the fool. Some of us, however, have no side to pledge to. I myself am in the middle. So far, neither side could ever benefit me. I don't want to be with The Dark Lord, and I refuse to be in something called Dumbledore's Army, when the man hasn't fought since Grindewald;" he paused; "I rather fight in a group with no name, for those I love and for what I believe in, then to have pledged my life to a side who might leave me in its wake, too busy to succeed and greedy for control to notice I've fallen.

"And who really wants to pledge to anything now? We're young, we're teenagers! We've got our entire lives ahead of us! The Dark Lord wants teens because we want power, we want to prove ourselves, we want to show we're strong enough, old enough, wise enough, good enough! And the Light, well, look at Harry," Draco said, "He survives something horrific, and what does he get? A poster and a drum he didn't want to march to, that's what. And personally, I like the beat of my own drum."

He turned and sat down, sighing; "Had to get that out," he said under his breath, so quietly only Harry could hear. /I'm sorry I pointed you out/ he projected, and Harry only nodded.

/I know/ he replied.

"That's all welland good, Malfoy," Ron said, standing; "But I don't have a choice, do I? Not everyone gets to stand on the middle ground like you! My dad's the Minister, for crying out loud! And think about everyone else who has a position like mine! If our parents are in the Ministry, we're in the ministry." He finished by sitting down, his forceful last statement ringing in the air.

"Don't you get it?" Harry asked, standing. He was annoyed at his past friend's ignorance; "You're not Arthur, you're not Percy, or Bill, or Charlie, or Fred and George,you're Ron! You have your own mind, your own heart, your own blood and your own skin you can call yours! You'll be seventeen before you know it, Ron, and then what? Will you follow at your father's heels, or will you…" his voice trailed off when he realized how close he had gotten. Ron had risen as well, and now they stood eye to eye. Harry was surprised to see he could lock eyes with Ron; "Well?" Harry asked quietly, "What will you do then, Ron? What will any of you do?"

He stared at the redhead in silence, and Ron stared back.

"Well?" Harry asked again, backing away; "I don't want to fight with you, Ron, and I don't want to see another person get sucked into a war that has only just begun."

TBC

Well, I am on a roll here! I typed this chapter up so fast! Writer's Block is officially gone! Whoo!