Author's Note:

So here is chapter five! I hope someone has fun reading this! I am delighted over every review!

Conveniently, the ritual and spell room was more than capable of holding a werewolf in check. Harry stood in front of the closed door, listening in on when Remus would start his transformation. It didn't take long before painful grunts could be heard, which promptly turned into screaming, then howling. He could hear the werewolf struggling against the chains that they had wrapped tightly around Remus' body.

Carefully, he opened the door, peeking into the room. The werewolf was enraged, wrenching at the chains, but for now they seemed to hold him. Taking a few large steps towards the beast, Harry tried approaching it as much as he safely could. He needed a powerful cutting curse to even penetrate the beast's magic resistance, and it needed to be very carefully aimed, to not seriously injure Remus. He would strike from the left side, so that the curse would not hit the wolf's head after cutting off the tooth.

The werewolf snapped at him, but Harry was still about a meter away from his striking range. He waited until Remus was pulling his head to the other side, then raised his hand in one swift motion.

Sectumsempra!" he intoned, the curse leaving his fingertips, cutting neatly through the beast's mouth. One large fang clattered onto the ground and Harry summoned it with a quick wave of his hand. Blood was pouring from Remus' mouth, and he was howling in pain and rage. Although he was losing a lot of blood, Harry was quite sure he hadn't seriously hurt him. The increased healing factor every werewolf carried into the full moon would close the wound in a few minutes. There was a reason werewolves were hard to kill.

"Sorry Remus," Harry said, before quickly retreating, not fully trusting the chains to hold the enraged beast. Within a few steps he was out of the room, closing the door behind him. Harry let out the breath he had been holding. That was the hardest part done.

-o-o-

When Harry met Remus in the kitchen next day, he looked especially exhausted. A small scar was running alongside his mouth, but as Harry had thought, it had already healed completely. The fang they had acquired was laying between them on the table, ready to be used.

"I would suggest a similar ritual as I have used, using your blood as a secondary anchor to your magic," Harry said, "You will need a lot less than I did, as it is already imbued with your magical signature. Before that you should craft a handle for it. Wood would work, but iron should be just as effective and a lot more durable. If we sharpen the side of the fang, it could also be used as a blade in close combat. I suggest you take some lessons on how to handle a blade, preferably non-magical. Those are far better than the magical counterparts."

Remus nodded, not really in the mood for words. The days after the full moon were always extremely tiring, and this night had been one of the worst. The wolf had raged the whole night, not liking to be bound at all. Remus could still feel the beast inside him fuming. He was sure he would feel the aftereffects of last night for the next few full moons.

-o-o-

Every time Harry visited Hermione, he got more and more astounded at her progress. Thinks that took the average adult wizard months of practice, took her days or weeks. He had known she was a genius, but this exceeded all of his expectations. Sometimes, he thought that she alone could have turned the tides of the war if she didn't…

But that was not a train of thought where he wanted to go right now. She was alive and well, it didn't matter what had happened in his past life.

Today he would start her lessons on magical society. It was a topic that was hard to discuss, the knowledge had been acquired with a lot of sacrifices. Every piece of information was tightly linked to a tragic event in his life. Blood, limbs, dignity, and even lives had been lost in its pursuit.

Harry sat down opposite of Hermione, who eagerly waited, legs crossed in front of her. Harry took a moment to mentally prepare himself, then started explaining.

"Magical Britain runs on so called magical bindings. These are specific spells and vows used to monitor and control every witch or wizard, from birth to death, They originate from the times of Merlin, where witches and wizards were in constant battle with each other. They were meant as a tool to form alliances, ensure trust, and build a regulating force of witches and wizards. Thus, the Wizengamot was founded, and around that, what is now the ministry of magic formed."

Harry paused for a second, sipping on his coffee, before continuing.

"The first piece of that magic every wizard or witch receives is the trace. For known magicals, it is applied shortly after birth, for muggleborns it comes with their first purchase of a wand. It has several functions: First, it monitors every piece of magic done by the individual outside of heavy warded areas. Second, it monitors the position of the witch or wizard, also only if they do not currently reside in a heavily warded area. Third, and this is the most important part of the trace, the trace has a strong compulsion built into it to follow the orders of any ministry official, or any other figure of authority that is recognized as such by the ministry of magic. As such count Wizengamot members, Hogwarts staff, and any higher-ranking employee of the ministry of magic. The tricky part about it is that you do not feel the compulsion urging you, it just feels like your normal thinking progress, when in fact, your entire decision making has been hijacked. And while it is possible to decide against these 'suggestion', it happens rather rarely, because you are not able to distinguish your own thoughts from the compelled ones, even if you do know about the real working of the trace, which most people do not."

Hermione's eyes had opened wider and wider with every sentence he spoke. Her mouth was opened slightly in shock, her eyes angrily furrowed together.

"This…this…" she fumbled for words, but Harry beat her to it.

"Sadly, this is only the beginning. This is the first compulsion weaved into the minds of the British citizens, and it is by far the most forgiving. Luckily your vow will protect you from it, because it always has precedence over anything else cast by or on you."

"Does…" Hermione's eyes darted to the sight, not meeting his eyes, "Does my vow also infect my thinking?"

Harry had thought she would ask that. It was one thing vowing something, even on the cost of your life, but having your own free will taken from you was far worse for most people.

"No, it doesn't. I explained every detail of those vows to you. The fact that acting against it invokes death makes it unnecessary for to urge you to do anything, and the clauses you came up with even give us plenty of room to make our own decisions."

"That is why you named it the Order of the Unbound," Hermione whispered, more to herself than to him, "At first I had thought it was a joke, but actually…through our vow we are the only ones not bound by the ministry, are we?"

Harry sighed. "Sadly, Voldemort also counts himself under the not bound wizards in England, and through his dark mark he can urge his followers to work around their bindings."

"What about ministry officials and the professors at Hogwarts? What about Albus Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, fearing the answer.

"Dumbledore…is a special case. We will talk about that later. With anyone in authority, they take vows not unsimilar to ours. They don't do the unbreakable vow, but ones that are just as effective. They only learn about them right before they are about to take them, and the trace urges them to just accept. The vows they take…are extremely specific, sometimes pages long, and they always make it impossible to tell other about them. Anyone in power is but a marionette of the system."

"So, the minister of magic is what, an almighty overlord?" That didn't make sense to Hermione. From what she had gathered in books and comments from Harry, the minister wasn't always seen favourably. That would not happen if he was controlling Britain like a master puppeteer.

"The minister is just as bound as any other," Harry explained, "bound to the decisions of the Wizengamot and the laws passed inside the ministry. He is magically barely above a squib and has the backbone of an octopus. He listens to what others tell him and that is mostly Lucius Malfoy, a death eater who isn't officially working at the ministry, but everyone knows he has the minister's ear. Sometimes Dumbledore can urge the minister on specific matters, because Fudge is a coward and Dumbledore immensely powerful, but those moments are few and far between."

Hermione gulped, realising the extent of what they were facing. Her hands started shaking, her breathe quickened, fear overwhelming her. Harry's hand on her shoulder startled her back into the here and now. "Hermione, I will never ask anything of you outside your capabilities, and we will protect you for as long as you need that protection. And if at any point, you feel like you want to take your parents and leave, there is nothing and no one that can stop you."

"But…the vow," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

"As far as your conscience, morals and capabilities allow, not one step further," Harry's calm voice declared, "Leaving with your parents to safety is a conscious and moral decisions you have every right, and every possibility to make."

Hermione nodded, but the tears did not stop rolling down her cheeks. "Harry, do you think I am a coward?"

Harry didn't waste a second before answering, "No Hermione, you are young, raised in peace time, and you just realised what we are up against. Fear is a natural response."

A sob escaped Hermione's lips, before she swung her arms around Harry, pressing her head into his chest. "I won't back down. I will fight. I can't let this atrocity continue."

"I know," Harry just answered, gently stroking her hair, "I know."

-o-o-

Harry regarded the finished focus in Remus' hand. The sleek metal hilt, covered in runes, just like his rings and the polished blade made out of the werewolf's fang, at the same time gleaming and opaque.

"Well, cast something," Harry urged, his eyes shining with excitement.

Remus cast a weary look at his new blade, before casting a silent hovering charm at a nearby cup. The cup rose, but only painfully slow and sank down just a moment later. Harry frowned.

"Again," he ordered. Maybe Remus hadn't put enough power into the spell?

This time Remus said the incantation out loud, and the cup rose slightly faster. However, it still looked like an attempt from a first-year student.

"How does it feel?" Harry asked.

"Forced, like there is resistance I have to overcome," Remus answered looking crestfallen.

Harry cut back a curse. He had expected this blade to be more than effective for Remus. After all it held even more of the wolf's magical signature than the rings held his own.

"I don't understand…" Harry murmured, lettings himself fall back onto the chair behind him, "this should have worked."

Remus silently sat down next to him, letting his fingers wander over the blade. "I guess this has to do for now," he said, "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Harry shook his head. "You haven't done anything wrong; the process was flawless. I don't know why it is resisting your magic. We don't have time to find something else right now, though. This will have to do. We have a few weeks to get ourselves comfortable with each other's duelling styles. I also want to to introduce you to a few of my more…outlandish spells. Have you found someone to teach you on how to use a knife?"

Remus nodded. "There is a dojo in a city nearby, they teach hand to hand combat but also use of different weapons. I have my first lesson in a week."

"Good, we can incorporate that in our duelling practice then. There are a lot of things we still have to plan, but we should be able to get Sirius out one or two months before term starts."

Remus faced turned grim. The mention of Sirius rotting inside Azkaban always put him in a foul mood. "If we don't end up there ourselves."