A/N: Okay, incoming super long chapter! I hope everyone enjoys this one. I really am trying to get this story to you all as fast as I possibly can while still maintaining the quality standard that I hold myself too! When I see all the support you give in the Follows, Favorites, and Reviews, it really helps motivate me to write faster so be sure to keep that up! With all that said though, let's hop on into Chapter 8!

Chapter VIII: Under The Red Planet

(Astoria P.O.V)

Astoria hated early mornings, they irritated her and try as she might, she couldn't even force herself to find a way to be positive about it. There was, however, one thing she hated more, and that was emergency meetings. She'd been to a few since the war had begun in full force, none of them had ever been cheery, and more often made her want to huddle in a corner and panic cry. Not that she ever did, she wouldn't have been caught dead in a position like that. The members of the Order danced around the issue like she didn't know it, but Astoria could almost feel the eyes of the Order on her at all times, desperate to see a smile and hear a whisper of hope.

Michael had arrived at her door uncharacteristically out of breath. She could only assume the boy flew from the attic to her chamber, and he didn't stick around long. It didn't matter really, she'd learn the purpose of the meeting soon enough, but it was the mystery that irked her. She'd stopped at Daphne and Harry's room on her way down and rolled her eyes at her sister's desperate attempt to climb from her bed.

Daphne leaned heavily on Astoria as she guided her older sister's down the steps. The poison had exited her system, but the soreness from the freshly healed wounds still troubled Daphne. Even through her placid facade, Astoria could see the sparks of pain in Daphne's icy-blue pools. Astoria had just reached the ground floor when Harry re-entered the house. A puzzled look cross Astoria's face, but Harry simply sent her a grin. Not one of those, "Everything's fine," grins she loved, but one of those, "I'm hiding something and don't want you to know about grins," Harry was annoyingly famous for.

Still, Astoria was happy when Daphne's weight was shifted onto Harry. Her magic may have packed a punch, but with her frame, Astoria wasn't exactly a body-builder. Astoria led the way into the kitchen where the other Order members had already taken their seats. A dreary, serious haze hovered over the room, lessened slightly from James' curious pokes at Teddy's face. She wasn't sure if either Emmeline or Narcissa had noticed it, but Astoria had captured the image into her mental camera roll.

She departed from Harry who walked to the Head of the Table. His and Daphne's seats were a bit further up than hers. It wasn't that Astoria cared though, leadership really wasn't her style and when lives hung in the balance, it was much safer to follow than to lead, plus leadership seemed to have some less than favorable effects. When she'd first met the Head of House Black, there was a bit of her that found Sirius handsome. Undertones of that charm still existed certainly, but the man looked much older now, and worn out, with streaks of grey in his luscious curly locks.

Sirius cleared his throat which broke Astoria from her observation. The man's grey eyes rested of Harry when he spoke, "Thank you all for coming to this emergency meeting so quickly. I've been informed that we have an update regarding the information gathered from Harry's interrogation of Voldemort's whereabouts."

Bill Weasley rested his hand on Fleur's shoulder, the French Veela still struggled with the sound of the Dark Lord's name. In some ways, Astoria understood her. In a lot of ways, the Triwizard Champion didn't seem like that exceptional of a witch, but she was on a rather short list of people who'd seen the Dark Lord and survived. Astoria could only imagine the trauma.

Claire smiled at Fleur from across the table, and that seemed to provide the girl some comfort before Astoria's attention shifted back to Harry who now stood from his chair just right of Sirius. "Like Sirius said, thanks for coming on such short notice. We do indeed have an update on Voldemort's whereabout from a credible source. The man of the source was Jugson, for those unfamiliar, he was a Death Eater and part of what we believe to be the Dark Lord's inner circle. It is for that reason, that I feel confident in saying that Voldemort has yet to be revived."

Commotion stirred along the enlarged table. Whispers of cheers to stammers of confusion and disbelief ran rampant across the table, but it was Narcissa who'd spoken out first, "Why? The Death Eaters, the retrieved the Cup did they not?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, for that we have to give thanks to an unsung hero in this war. I suppose that leads into the second order of business." Harry's face grew hollow for a moment, then he spoke, "Severus Snape has died. His final action, the destruction of Helga Hufflepuff's Cup at the cost of his own life. I don't know why he did it? I don't understand the actions that led to that outcome, but I would ask us all to lower our heads for a moment out of respect for the man that was Severus Snape."

Astoria's eyes shook in their sockets. The barrage of surprises left her unable to process. Severus Snape, the man that had killed Dumbledore had died at the hands of Death Eaters after he'd betrayed them for Harry's mission. If that wasn't odd enough, to see Harry Potter lower his head with respect for a man she knew he hated was almost unimaginable. Her attention quickly changed to the blonde at Harry's side. Daphne had done well to keep her expression neutral, but not even she could stop the two, thin tears that streamed down her cheeks.

Severus Snape had his problems, Astoria wasn't sure if she could even list them all in an hour, but he'd died a hero for their cause. Sirius and Remus bowed their heads in unison and Astoria followed suit. Professor Snape, Astoria thought to herself, You won't be forgotten. She lifted her head at Harry's return and waited for the Boy-Who-Lived to speak.

"Thank you," He said, an incredibly rare awkwardness in his voice. "With the Cup gone, that means that Voldemort will have to resign himself to the use of another Horcrux to return. The bad news is, he'd had one in his possession this whole time." The Order's eyes widened at Harry's statement but he continued, "His snake. It isn't confirmed, but Dumbledore presented it as a theory that I agree with. Nagini might be the only think that Voldemort had ever loved, outside of magic. I didn't mention it as a risk before because I didn't think that the Death Eaters and the Vampires would be desperate enough to bring Voldemort back at the cost of something he loved dearly, especially not when they had access to the cup. Now, however, the situation has changed."

"There is a chance that perhaps they are aware of the Diadem of Ravenclaw's location, another object we believe to be a horcrux, but there was no notion of that during my conversation with Jugson. If he was inner-circle enough to take part in Voldemort's revival ritual, then I'd assume he'd have access to information about the Diadem if there was any. To my knowledge, the Death Eaters are just as lost as we are when it comes to the final missing horcrux."

"Listen, Harry," Molly Weasley said, "Your thoughts are certainly possible, but isn't it more likely that perhaps this Jugson fellow was just lying to you. After all, this Death Eaters are far from trustworthy people."

"No," Harry said. Astoria shivered at the coldness in Harry's voice, "He didn't have the option to lie."

"Merlin Harry," Arthur stumbled, "What did you do to get this information?"

"That's irrelevant," Harry replied swiftly. "All that is important now is preparing for Voldemort's return and locating the final horcrux. It is my belief that when Voldemort returns, the speed and viciousness of this war will increase rapidly. For those without missions assigned to them now, I would suggest you use this time to make any arrangements necessary. To everyone who does have a task, we don't have anymore time to wait."

"Right," Michael said, "I'll head off to the forbidden forest to meet with the centaurs over the Valentine's Day Hogsmeade Weekend. Claire needs some time to sober up before we go so it's best to wait until she's capable of having my back and putting Hogsmeade on top of it gives us even more cover."

"I will work on brewing some healing potions and acquiring medical supplies for the injuries I fear are inevitably going to come." Dr. Thatcher said.

"I'll go with Fleur to Romania," Bill said, "Get an update on how negotiations for Dragon support is going with Charlie."

Astoria stayed silent. She knew her task was to keep in touch with Damyan and see if there was anyway to sway them into helping out resistance efforts in England. Though Damyan had made it quite clear that the people of Bulgaria had little interest in the opposition of Pureblood Dominant beliefs. Damyan had written her a myriad of letters, all of which were laced with undertones of frustration for stalemated arguments in the Bulgarian Ministry about the idea of aid in any form to Wizarding England.

She knew to try, and try until something, anything worked. The fire of hope dwindled daily though, and Astoria had no clue how to overcome that. People were different in that way, unless the problem effected them directly, most were unlikely to care. She rubbed her arms softly and traced her fingers down her veins, worse yet, it was far from the only problem she had to deal with.

Harry dismissed the meeting and walked over to Mad-Eye. Normally, Astoria would have been too nosy to leave well-enough alone, but a thin layer of nausea and light-headedness begged for her to rest. Rest, she hated that word. Sure, the treatments, if she could even call the experiments that Daphne and Thatcher did on her to prolong her life stopped the bleeding that stemmed from her curse, but it left her with maybe only a third of her normal energy and that was after a minimum of one nap a day. There's a fine line between being alive, and living- sometimes, Astoria was unsure of what side of that line she even fell on anymore.

She closed the door of her room behind her and sunk into her bed. Her fingers dug into her pillow case and removed a neatly folded letter. She'd read it to herself frequently but never really knew what to do with it. She did know that it brought her some joy and sources of that were in ever-rare supply. She unfolded carefully and smiled at Damyan's sloppy penmanship.

Dear Astoria, I hope all is well over there. I know that you're in the middle of a war, so I guess I mean more that things are going as well as they can be. I just wanted to write to you and say that I haven't given up! My father, he doesn't believe in all of this pureblood nonsense and most importantly he seems through the ruse of the Dark Lord. He won't just stop at England. The stubborn ministry members might take some time to convince, but we'll get them to help eventually! If we can't well… If we can't then I guess I'll just have to come over and beat up Voldemort all by myself! Haha, I'm kidding, but I am serious about joining! I'm not much, but I can't just sit back while innocent people suffer. For now though, keep me posted! I'll see if I can answer any questions you might have over there! It's the least I can do for now.

-Damyan

P.S. I hope your treatments have been going well! I know it can be tough, but don't ever give up, okay? I'm certain there's a way to heal you! I just know it!

P.P.S I also attached my newest cartoon! I used that spell that animates the photos, so I hope you like it!

Astoria smiled as she folded the letter, "Wish you were here, Damyan."

(Neville P.O.V)

Hogsmeade Weekend, it was odd to even care about something that trivial, and yet, Neville had found himself more than a touch excited. Neville always held Harry in the highest regard, and though the Boy-Who-Lived never would have allowed for Neville to talk down to himself, it was undeniable that Harry's burdens would have crushed Neville completely. S.P.I.R.E in itself was a handful, to deal with knowledge that you were destined to kill one of the strongest Dark Wizards that ever lived or die at his hands atop that, Neville had no clue how Harry did it.

Neville was grateful to his grandmother and Headmistress McGonagall, Neville had never gotten a T before this semester in anything, but truthfully, certain subjects just didn't seem to matter when the fate of the world, or at least, the wizarding world was at stake. Divination just didn't seem all that important in comparison and thankfully, both his gran and McGonagall let his bad grades slide. In fact, Neville could hardly remember a time where he was complimented more by his Grandmother for his actions.

"You're making your parents proud," That was the send off on every letter he'd received. Neville took that sentiment proudly. He wondered if Harry ever felt that way when he led the S.P.I.R.E, did he ever wonder if his parents still watched over him. Maybe he was fool to think so irrational thoughts, but they brought him comfort, as did his date for the Hogsmeade Weekend, Hermione Granger.

How badly Neville wished that he and the witch could simply go to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and spend the day in a love filled bliss. Maybe when this is all over, Neville smiled at the bushy haired with that clung to his arms in the cold corridors, Yeah, when this is all over, we're going to go on an actual date that doesn't involve possibly avoiding Avada Kedavras. That would be nice.

Hermione tapped Neville's arm and the boy jumped from his thoughts, "Are you alright? You looked a little distracted?" Hermione's words were warm and filled with comfort.

"Just thinking about the future, you know?" Neville said blankly.

"Ah yes, the future. Well, tell me, Mr. Longbottom, what do you see in our future?" Hermione loved nothing more than to tease him over his continuation with divination.

"Our?" Neville said. Hermione turned a beet red at the insinuation but Neville put her at ease with a smile, "I see us happy, alive, and together. That's what my seer senses are telling me at least."

"For as much as I hate seers, that sounds like a prophecy I could live with," Hermione said. The girl swung from his arm shifted to stand before him. She looked up at him with those large, adorable chocolate brown eyes and Neville couldn't stop himself. His hand cupped her cheek and Neville closed his eyes as their foreheads met softly.

Neville nibbled at Hermione's bottom lip and a tingle race down his spine from the way her arms held him. Neville's hand dropped from her cheek and wrapped around her waist as the two shared a private moment in the empty corridor, or, at least they thought it was empty. The two broke apart at the sound of a pair of footsteps, and Neville turned redder than Hermione at the couple that had joined them.

"When was the last time you kissed me like that, hmm, Blaise?" Tracey's smile was bright as diamonds though Blaise looked as embarrassed as Neville at the remark. "Well, never mind then," Tracey said, "As fun as it would be to spend all day locking lips in the corridor, I'm afraid we aren't exactly going to Hogsmeade for pleasure this time."

"Right," Blaise echoed the sentiment, "We've got a lot of work todo, so let's not stick around here. We gotta get to the carriages." Blaise sighed with exhaustion, "I took care of our side in the Room of Requirement, I just hope Aberforth will be able to secure the link from the Hogs Head. I'm sure he'll be excited to see the old place again, castle life really doesn't suit him."

Neville nodded in agreement, "Yeah, let's go meet up with Aberforth to deal with creating the link between here and Hogsmeade first. Then, I'll meet up with Michael and get an update on the situation and see what our next steps are. I know Michael intends to meet up with the Centaurs today for support. Hopefully, they'll agree. We need all the help we can get."

"At least we managed to strike a deal with the goblins though according to the last letter," Hermione said. "Progress is progress."

"Yeah," Blaise nodded in agreement, "We just need a lot more of it."

The February air was cold and bitter. Even through his charmed gloves, the wind still nibbled on Neville's fingertips. The chills he felt on the outside were nothing when compared to the chills he felt beneath his skin at Tracey and Blaise's reports though. Blaise had informed Neville to be weary with much of Slytherin angry at the S.P.I.R.E's actions. Tracey shared that Pansy had even gone so far as to light a fire under the bed that would have been Daphne's had she returned as a message to both Tracey and all other Potter sympathizers.

Even Slughorn wasn't safe from Slytherin torment. Blaise reported of numerous attempts to slip mild poisons into the Professor's drink to make him miss so many days he'd be out of a job. Slughorn never fell for such elementary brews, and tactics, but he didn't report them. Neville rolled his eyes at the dopey professor's parroted response. No matter what Slughorn claimed, Neville knew they were anything but simply misguided young witches and wizards that didn't know any better. They supported the Dark Lord, and that made them enemies.

The dreary conversation had sprinkles of amusement. The four now sixth years laughed at the rambles of Professor Bins, and shared a chuckle at the similarities and differences between Aberforth and his brother. Neville in particular had gotten a kick out of the idea of Albus with his brother's vocabulary. If Albus Dumbledore had ever called any student dumber than a knockturn alley whore with no contraceptive spell, Neville thought he might have lost it. Though, it wasn't exactly an inaccurate way to describe the academic ability of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Albus Dumbledore had many issues, but whenever Neville thought of the man, he remembered the Quidditch World Cup. He was so certain that all hope was lost, and then, like a knight from the story books, Dumbledore arrived, his Phoenix Sigil high in the sky, and Neville knew they'd be safe. Maybe it was crazy, or even inappropriate to an extent, but Neville missed the Headmaster and the calm he brought wherever he went. Aberforth was a great wizard, as was Professor McGonagall, but the truth would always remain the same, there would forever be only one Albus Dumbledore.

The carriage came to a steady stop at the edge of Hogsmeade and Neville scanned the area before he departed the cart. One hand rested on his wand and his other reached out to help Hermione from the cart. The Ravenclaw took it, but soon followed Neville's lead, her wand holstered just beneath her sleeve. One look at Blaise and Tracey's guarded eyes and Neville knew they were all on the same page. There was no such thing as a true safe haven in times of war, no matter what anyone wanted to believe.

A nauseous wave crashed over Neville at the way young third and forth year students ran through the streets of the small village without a care in the world. How many years had it been since Neville himself had been so free of stress he wondered? He brushed that thought aside, there was no reason to dwell on it. His off-hand laced with Hermione's when they walked in a looser version of their four-man formation, their eyes peeled for danger. Though, Neville did have a momentary lapse in focus when they come across the house Andromeda and Sirius had purchased many years ago. The house was empty, and the lack of light reminded him briefly of the look of Tonks' eyes when they'd arrived at the scene.

How many more, I wonder? Neville thought grimly, How many more can I take? Hermione's firm squeeze of his hand snapped Neville back to reality. He forced a smile to his face but he knew the Ravenclaw could see right through it. He was thankful she didn't probe, Neville wasn't exactly in the mood to talk. They walked in silence for only a short while before the finally arrived at the dusty building that was the Hogshead. McGonagall had offered Aberforth House-Elves to keep the place in order while he taught at the school, but Aberforth had almost seemed to prefer the dirt.

The outside of the bar matched the conditions on the inside, though as always, there was one exception. Neville had caught glimpses of Aberforth on his trips in and out of the castle, unlike other students, Neville didn't need to guess where he went off to. The flowers in hand were a dead give away, and the place where he rested them put the mystery to bed. For as dirty as the Hogshead could be, Neville couldn't think of a single thing more polished and pristine portrait of Ariana Dumbledore and the always fresh lilies that always rested beside it.

The bells from the door behind him chimed and Neville jumped, his wand in hand when he turned to face the new arrival. He lowered the stick quickly though at the familiar tinges of pink and blue hair. "Well, you've certainly got faster on the draw," Michael said with a chuckle.

"Amazing what practice can do, huh?" Neville chuckled.

The two wizards ran towards each other hand hugged tightly. He'd missed the blue-haired boy's antics in the castles greatly. It wasn't until Michael left that Neville had really noticed how much life he brought to the castle. "Good to see you again, Corner."

"Back at you, Longbottom. It's only been a month or so but I feel like every time I see you, you just get more and more cut. You are certainly a handsome man," Michael's smile grew, "Not as good looking as me, mind you, but not bad."

Neville smirked as Claire slapped Michael upside the head, then shook his hand, "Sorry about that. His last plan went well and his already extreme ego is in overdrive now, you know how it is?"

The Hufflepuff nodded, he knew exactly what Claire meant. To be honest though, if the only cost of one of Michael's successful plans was a momentary ego boost, he thought it was worth it. Tracey stepped forward and hugged Claire for a split second before she asked a question that made Neville's heart sink. "So," The auburn-haired girl started, "Did Daphne and Harry come to?"

"They wanted to, but-," Claire started, her eyes dim and hazy.

"They had other missions they had to work on. Daphne did ask me to send you and Blaise her love. She misses you two a lot," Michael finished.

Blaise looked about ready to ask a question of his own, but a seat of heavy footsteps put everyone on edge before the scraggly, white-bearded man appeared from behind the bar. He burped loudly and dropped his glass of emptied fire whisky into the sink before he looked up at the six wizards in his presence. "Everyone here?" He asked curtly. Neville nodded, "Good you all can go play catch up later, we have work to do. Follow me."

The Slytherin boy's face fumed but he didn't say anything, lest he became the next victim of Aberforth's verbal assault. The bearded wizard hobbled towards the frame of Arianna and smiled. His grin soured when he looked back at Neville. "You made all the preparations on your end, right?"

Neville nodded. Hermione had come up with the idea of a link between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade that could be used more safely than the process of Breaking and Entering into Honeydukes. He was thankful that Hermione took the burden of the transportation spell research upon herself and only asked him to be the one to talk to Aberforth about their plan. Though, if he were to have asked Hermione, the witch may have felt she got the better end of the deal. Aberforth could be as grumpy as Moody on a bad day, and the old wizard tended to have a lot of bad days. All the same, Aberforth agreed to help.

"Right then, Arianna, you know what to do, don't yah?" He asked the photo. The sad girl, for the first time Neville had ever seen smiled and nodded before she departed down the road painted in the photo. Aberforth walked over to the nearest table and pulled a chair. "She's the only reason I agreed to do any of this. Teach at the school, agree with your plan, all of it."

The man summoned another drink to his hand and lowered his head. "When my brother died, part of me, as terrible as it is to admit it, felt like justice had finally be done. I almost laughed when I was supposed to be in mourning, but Arianna, she cried. I didn't even know she could do that in her photo-form, but she wept. She cried for one of the men who may have possibly killed her."

Aberforth looked back at the empty frame. "She doesn't talk, not matter how much I wish she would, but in her eyes, I could see her begging me to help Albus' cause. She had this desire to not let her older brother's death be for nothing. As much as I hated my fool of a brother, I-" Aberforth sighed, "I couldn't let Arianna be sad."

From over the hill in the painting, Arianna appeared once more. She wore a triumphant smile on her face and Neville noticed the faded lines of Aberforth's smile crease his face. He rose from his chair and nudged them over. Neville stepped forward first. Arianna stretched out her hand and Neville turned to Aberforth with a tightly knitted brow.

"Go on, put your hand on hers and channel your magic through it. That's the key to using this passage in and out of the castle. I wasn't just about to let a passage like this be unlocked and free to access to just anybody," Aberforth said. Neville nodded in agreement and placed his hand unsteadily on Arianna's. He swallowed at the glare Aberforth sent him. He'd never felt so conscious about his nails in his entire life, but he had no doubt that if he so much as scratched Arianna's photo, Aberforth would try to kill him right there.

Arianna nodded when their magic had linked and Neville took a silent sigh of relief before he dropped his hand and stepped away from the photo. Hermione stepped up next and Neville found himself at ease in the back of the line near Michael.

Michael gripped his shoulder and grinned, "Hey, seriously though, how are you?"

"Fine," Neville replied, "I guess."

"Don't you start going all Potter-Like on me," Michael started. "You're kinda holding this castle together on your own. Seriously, how are you handling it."

"It's tough, I guess," Neville said, "I'm not sure how Harry managed so well. I guess I understand why he always looked two minutes away from erupting with a stress ulcer last year. The shit's hard." Neville turned back to face the Blue-Haired boy, "Though as the strategic commander of the Order, I can't imagine that your life has been a picnic either."

"Oh me, peace of cake," The sarcasm in Michael's voice was so palpable he couldn't even finish the sentence without a chuckle. Neville smiled before Claire shuffled forward in the line and Michael's smile dropped, "It's been hell honestly. When I have to make plans that may loose people their lives, well, it makes it hard to sleep at night."

Neville nodded with sympathy, he couldn't imagine the weight Michael felt on his shoulders at all time. Nevertheless, the Ravenclaw smiled, "You know, I was hoping to catch her around Hogsmeade, but I'm not exactly here for a social visit and can't really stick around long, how's Susan holding up?"

"She's um," Neville looked down at the ground, "Honestly, morale is dropping, but she's hanging in there. I'm sure that once reports of our alliance with the centaurs surface with all the other news of the Order's success than we'll see the spirits in the castle lift a bit."

"Looks like I can't wait around here much longer then. As soon as Claire and I sync our magic with that photo over there, we're going to be on our way." Neville nodded and stepped aside to allow Claire to move towards the photo, "By the way, I know he's not here, but I know that Harry's thankful for what you're doing. He, no, I guess I should say we," Michael shook his head, "We believe in you completely, Scout. Thanks for keeping the castle safe while we're away."

"It's the least I can do it," Neville said warmly. "Just make sure you keep doing you best on your end and we'll call it even."

"I swear it."

Michael had done as promised. No sooner had he and Claire synced their magic before they departed the Hogshead Tavern. Neville smiled at the last glimpse of his friend's bright blue hair and stifled a laugh. A couple years ago, they had all be nothing but idiots, now they led a war, had he not lived through the experience, he wouldn't have believed it himself. The fact of the matter was that if they all did indeed live to see the end of the war, it would be one hell of a story to read.

Aberforth shuffled them away from Arianna as soon as it was possible and handed them a round of butterbeer. The four students drank together in silence once more before Aberforth asked, "So, how is that quest going, the one my brother left to Potter, any progress?"

"Here and there," Neville replied half-heartedly. "We're making progress, but we're coming up to a bit of a wall. We think that the Diadem of Ravenclaw might be one of the items we're searching for, but we have no idea where that could be. Albus, he thought it might have been at the orphanage Voldemort grew up in but we checked it out and found nothing."

"Well of course you didn't," Aberforth said, "My brother always was a bit of a fool. From what I understood, Voldemort hated muggles from a young age, why would he keep his soul trapped in a place he hated. I reckon it would be somewhere he loved to be, if that thing is even capable of love, like the castle of something. Heard my brother talking about that one time, upset that the kid wanted to stay at school instead of going back home for the holidays. If a kid would rather be around a library and ghost than their home, you know it's a fucked up place. I say they shoulda let him, maybe the Dark Lord wouldn't have thrown so many tantrums if he could have just stayed at the school."

"The school, the diadem," Neville's eyes lit up like they were powered by electricity. "Aberforth, I have an idea."

(Michael P.O.V)

Michael hated portkeys, but was grateful that McGonagall saved them the trip from Hogsmeade to the castle. Not the Michael would have minded the distance, truthfully, he'd hoped to find some time to spend alone with Claire on this mission. They slept in the same bed, but even then, quality alone time came very solemnly. Yes, they had a mission, and yes, it was urgent, but Michael couldn't help himself from a short stroll along the winter wonderland that was the Hogwarts Grounds in February.

Claire's head rested on his shoulder. The two stood a bit further up from the bank of the Black Lake, it was one of the best places on campus to get a look at Ravenclaw Tower in all its glory. A sad smile crept across Michael's lips at the castle's grey stone wall. Laughter filled his memories, the joy he shared with Susan, Harry, Neville, even Hermione and Daphne in that castle flashed in his mind. How badly he wish he could have stayed, but Harry needed him. Painful as it could be sometimes, he'd never abandon Harry.

"Makes you think about what life could have been, doesn't it?" Claire whispered. Michael nodded, the idea of what could have been loomed over him constantly. "You know," Claire said, the pensive tone in her voice pulled Michael from his thoughts, "I think if I ever had a kid, I would send them here. Hogwarts, there's something about it, something Beauxbatons just doesn't have."

A kid, Claire's words shook Michael to his core. He wasn't sure what it was about the idea of children that rattled him so much, he loved James and Teddy deeply, but Michael hadn't ever really thought about kids of his own before. Maybe it was his own relationship with his parents, maybe it was this sick and twisted belief that one day Claire would realize she was too good for him and leave, maybe it was even the fact that there was a part of him that didn't think he'd see the end of this war alive, he wasn't sure what the reason was, but he couldn't even imagine himself as a father.

Claire squeezed his hand gently, "What do you think?"

"Huh?" Michael stuttered, "Sorry, Pretty Bird, I guess I just spaced out."

"Oh, it's okay, I was just wondering, where do you think James and Teddy would get sorted?" Claire smiled, "I mean, I know they are just babies, but still, couldn't hurt to guess."

"For James," Michael smiled, "That kid is so daring, I think he takes a bit too much after his dad and namesake in that regard, I'd be surprised if he didn't go to Gryffindor. As for Teddy well, I don't know? I mean, technically, he hasn't even shown solid use of magic yet."

"He's a Metamorphmagus, doesn't that count?" Claire asked.

"Honestly, there's some debate about that," Michael said. "Some people believe it's just a genetic trait as all wizards who have been tested on for research about Metamorphmagus show no movement in their magical core when they shape shift. However, others believe that as only witches and wizards possess the ability it has to be linked to wizardry in someway. It's probably nothing to worry about too much though, just thought it was interesting."

Claire nodded in agreement before she turned to the dark forest in the distance, "The sun is going to set soon, we should probably get a move on before we lose all daylight."

"Right," Michael said, "Let's move."

The Forbidden Forest hadn't changed in the slightest and Michael felt just as unwelcome in the crevasses of the blackened oak as he always had. He couldn't help but admit that he did share a bit of nostalgia for this place though and he could tell from the glint in Claire's eyes she shared a smilier sense. It was laughable almost, their relationship had started in these woods, though they had no clue how it would pan out. Of all the things Michael had thought he would've discovered on his detention with Terry Boot through scariest part of the Hogwarts ground, love with a French Teen Model was the bottom of the list.

Claire's had brushed against his once more and Michael took it without hesitation. Her grey eyes took the form of sharpened daggers and a blue flame in her palm lit the paths before them. He hadn't visited the Centaurs in what felt like centuries, but if for nothing but the fact he was still a teenager, Michael knew that to be inaccurate. Still, it had been a while. Luckily, they'd found a hoof print too large to belong to a unicorn or thestral and from their, they followed the trail.

Their mysterious location was honestly the last of Michael's worries, he was certain that with Claire at his side, they were bound to figure it out one way or another. It was the thought of his need to convince them to go to war for him that made him unconfident. The deeper they made their way into the woods, the colder it got. Even the warmth of Claire's blue flames were extinguished by the cold winter chill. Michael had never had such split anxiety before, he'd never wanted to both get deeper into the woods and leave it at the same time so badly. Thankfully, he didn't have to choose, a thin, wooden barricade let Michael know that they'd arrived at the Centaur's Colony.

He walked in lockstep with Claire up to the non-barricaded part of the fortress that the Centaurs, Michael assumed, intended to use as a gate and waited. His bones quaked beneath his skin, but he denied Claire's request to light her fire, they would do nothing to seem like a threat. They didn't need to wait long though as distant hoofbeats rattled through the air. The sound of a taut bowstring made Claire flinch but Michael stood undaunted until, from the shadows, a centaur appeared.

"Wizards?" The centaur hissed. He flipped back his silver hair and pulled harder on his bowstring, "If you value your life, you will leave this place at once."

"We mean you know disrespect," Michael said, "I've come to speak with your leader, Bane. Tell him that Michael Corner wishes to speak with him."

"I'm afraid that even if I wanted to believe you, it wouldn't matter, Bane is not currently in a condition to meet with anyone. We are preparing for war, the Red Planet is clear in the sky, and we must not be distracted. Now, as I said, leave."

"I can't," Michael said a mix of firmness and respect in his voice. "I understand your situation but I have information that might align with your reading of the planets. Please, just allow me to speak."

A bitter silence filled the forest before the silver-haired centaur relented. He nodded, though didn't lower his bow. Michael felt a droplet of sweat drip down his cheek at the arrow he knew to be pointed at his back, but he did what he could to ignore the thought and focus only on the Centaurs' directional instructions. A chant echoed from a circle that surrounded a fire that burned at dangerous heights. They words didn't sound English, or really like any language Michael had ever heard before, he assumed it was some type of ancient Hymn, but he couldn't be certain.

Snap! He cursed to himself, his foot firmly placed on top of a pile of buried twigs and instantly he felt the eyes of every centaur in the colony on him. Much like the Silver-Haired Centaur at his back, the males drew their bow and Michael screamed at his body not to draw his wand in response or to armor himself. He scanned desperately for something to say or do, but nothing came to him, then, from behind the crowd of centaurs, a familiar face strode out.

"Gift-Bearer Michael Corner," The centaur in the lead said, his voice hard, but empty of malice, "It has certainly been some time since your last visit."

"Chief Bane," Michael said, a bit more relieved that he probably should have left on. "Merlin am I glad you showed up."

"As you should be, Mars hovers over us today in clear view. It is an indication of a soon to come war, you were foolish to come here tonight. Had I not intervened, you would have been skewered like an enemy." Bane stood stall and lifted his hand. The army of centaurs lowered their bows in response. "Though I know you not to be a fool, so I assume you came here for reasons more than just to shoot the breeze."

The blue-haired wizard nodded, "Yes. You mentioned your prediction of a war to come, I'm here to tell you that you are correct." Bane nodded as if to say, duh, but Michael continued, "My friends and I, we are in the middle of a great war between Voldemort and his forces. Recently, Vampires even joined the Dark Lords cause. We for-see Hogwarts to be a location on their hit-list eventually, and that means they will approach the forest as well."

"If that is the case then we shall repel them, they will be fools to think so little of our combat ability," Bane growled.

"I'm glad to hear that you have no intent of joining their side," Michael said honestly. "But to be perfectly fair, I've come to ask a favor of you Bane, I've come to ask you to join hands with the Order of The Phoenix, a group led by Harry Potter and myself in the fight against the Dark Lord and his forces."

"YOU DARE INSULT US!" A centaur from behind Bane screamed, "YOU THINK WE'D EVER AGREE TO BE SUBORDINATES TO-," Bane jolted towards the centaur like a bullet and slammed the end of his bow into the centaur's gut to silence him. The furious centaur stumbled over unconscious before Bane turned back to Michael.

"My centaurs no never to interrupt when I am in the middle of conversations. I apologize that you had to see that, but disobedience cannot be tolerated, especially not as we prepare for war. However, that does not make what my fellow centaur said untrue. We will not agree to be subordinates of wizards in a game that has nothing to do with us." Bane stood firmly, "If that is what you are saying, then I must say, I had hoped better of you, Michael Corner."

"No, that isn't what I mean at all." Michael said, a desperation in his throat. "I know that trusting us wizards is hard, but Bane, you know me, I don't see you as anything less than our kind. You are a race than can ever surpass ours in traits of honor and discipline, and you should command nothing but respect. But the people who are coming after you are the same as the ones that are after myself and my organization. If we band together, not as subordinate and leaders, but as comrades, I'm certain that we can repel this force."

"I gave you my word that I would work to see your kind receive the respect you deserve, this is the first step towards that goal. I want to help in anyway that I can, but I can't do it without you." Michael's fist tightened, "So please, help us."

Bane stood firm as a statue, his expression unmoved before he sighed. "I believe you, Michael Corner. You have the heart of a centaur and I do personally believe you do care about the betterment of my people, but I cannot ask my kin to support you if you do not show them your heart."

"How can I show them?" Michael asked.

Bane clapped his hand and a centaur that stood a little taller than Michael raced to Bane's side. In fact, the young centaur looked like Bane in many ways with the same thick black hair and strong body, though possessed deep red eyes that while not filled with fury, gleamed with determination. "Michael Corner, this is my son, Heron, he has been given a task to prove his worth of becoming a full-fledge member of our colony, to do this, he will have to hunt a great beast. Be his brother on this journey and show him your honor, when you return, he will be able to vouch for you and prove your honor to our colony." Bane turned to the colony behind him, "Are we all agreed my brothers and sisters!"

The armed Centaurs behind them lifted their bows and howled more of an ancient and unfamiliar tongue and Bane turned back to him once more. "They vow to uphold these terms. Now then, my son, tell them the beast you've been selected to hunt."

Michael's heart sank at the name of the beast that left the young centaurs mouth. He dared not say it aloud, but he felt his head spin. How the hell am I going to pull this off?

A/N: Man, 8000 word chapter look at that lol! I hope you all really did find some enjoyment in this chapter. Neville's growth has really been fun to write and I love any chance I get to toy with this developed Harry in a leadership roll. Also, we got an Astoria chapter and anyone who knows me knows I love to write Astoria! But now we have some mysteries to solve. Just what has Michael and Claire been asked to kill alongside Heron and how will Neville use the information he achieved from Aberforth to move forward with his plans. Guess we'll just have to wait and see!

If you enjoyed this super long chapter please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Your feedback means the world to me and with that said, Until Next Time, Peace!