IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE! There is something that takes place in this chapter will have many, many, MANY of you pissed off beyond recognition. And while I don't want to say the reasons why here, for those of you who simple MUST have an answer for why I'd something like this, skip ahead to Chapter 24 to find just WHY I'd do this. If you still don't like it, TOO BAD!

The Lightsaber
By: Tellemicus Sundance
#09: Thieves, Messages, and Moody Aggression

October 24, 1996
Secret Lab, Hogwarts

Hermione could say with utmost certainty and conviction that this year at Hogwarts was shaping up to be the absolute worst year of her life. It had been more than a week since the 'Battle of Hogwarts' had taken place and things had quickly deteriorated for everyone. With High Inquisitor Umbridge calling the shots after she'd evicted Headmaster Dumbledore, the worst of it had fallen on Gryffindor House, as the 'House of Traitors' as the Slytherins had so lovingly christened them. There had been over a dozen new amendments to the original Educational Decree, several being posted within a single day at times, as Umbridge started governing Hogwarts with an increasing totalitarian rule. And the list seemed to just keep getting longer as the Toad sought to control ever single aspect of Hogwarts life.

Whispers of discontent spread rapidly throughout the student body. Talk of rebellion against the Inquisitor's rule was practically everywhere, but Hermione suspected that no one would actually do anything. No one, not even in Gryffindor, the House of the Brave, had the courage or the extremely high pain threshold to openly rebel against the most powerful witch in the school. All that anyone really did was do small, insignificant rule-breaking, like refusing to acknowledge Umbridge as the new Headmistress. All throughout Hogwarts, even by the Professors themselves, Umbridge was known only by her title of 'Inquisitor'. The Professors were especially angry with Umbridge when, two days after her inauguration as Headmistress, she prompted dismissed Hagrid and Trelawney from their jobs, not even caring that she didn't even have any backup teachers to take their places until new ones could be found. Although they hid it quite well, Hermione noticed that discontent was present in even the Slytherin House, who generally got off the lightest with the new rules.

But where things were really focused was on her and Ron, as Harry's closest friends and confidants. The hammer struck hard and true on them with no mercy given. They had detentions with Umbridge herself or Mr. Filch for the rest of the year, forbidden for being awarded any points to their House (even if they are Outstanding results on every subject), had to surrender their wands to Umbridge until the school year ended and thus were completely forbidden from performing any magic at all under any situation, could not travel the halls without an 'armed escort' in the form of the Inquisitorial Squad (a job Malfoy constantly rubbed in their faces as he personally volunteered for it, cursing and jinxing them at his heart's whim), forbidden from joining or participating in any teams, clubs, or games, and had little to no time to actually study and do homework. But the worst restriction of all, in Hermione's humble opinion, was being forbidden from even approaching the library to research! The only true time of day in which they had even a sliver of personal freedom was at night after curfew, when everyone should be sleeping.

"Tell me again," Ron said quietly, sleepily. "Why are we down here now when we could be up in our beds sleeping and trying to pretend the Toad isn't trying to ruin our lives?"

"Because we need to make sure that Harry didn't leave anything behind," Hermione stated calmly. "Anything that the Ministry, Voldemort, or the Inquisitor could use against him, like his lightsaber blueprints."

"Right," Ron said as he yawned widely again. "…Can't believe he just up and left without us like that. Some friend he is."

"You don't mean that," Hermione said as she was shuffling through some of the desk drawers. "You're just tired and cranky. Besides, how was Harry or any of us supposed to know what was going to happen after the Inquisitor found out he was a Sorcerer and went to Fudge?"

"That's something that I still don't get," Ron said, some life coming back to his sleepy eyes as he looked over at his bushy-haired friend. "How did the Inquisitor even find out about him being a Sorcerer in the first place? He hid his powers so well and only you, me, and Neville even knew that he was a Sorcerer."

"I've been thinking about that and I think I know how she did it," Hermione admitted, opening another desk drawer and gasping at what she saw. It was the vials of the Awakening Potion that Harry had brewed in order to become a Sorcerer. How could he have forgotten these?!

She was fast to grab them and put them up on the desk proper, counting them as she did, twelve vials in all with four others of them already emptied. From what Hermione knew of the potion, four was generally all that the human body required in order for the effects to become permanent. So why did he brew so many of them? Maybe he… Maybe he had hoped to have her and Ron become Sorcerers with him? That made a good deal of sense to her since she knew that Harry was a very giving and sharing person with his friends.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, not seeming to care about the potion vials that Hermione had found. "How did she find out about Harry?" Looking up at Ron, Hermione's expression changed to one of remorse and pity and Ron immediately knew that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Ron, do you remember the day before the 'battle' that you had to do a detention with the Inquisitor?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, vaguely," Ron admitted. "Stupid toad made me write lines with her Blood Quill for an hour because I was 'breathing too loud' in class. What kind of excuse is that?!"

"A bad one," Hermione agreed, nodding in acknowledge of Ron's opinion. "But here's the thing, Ron. When you came back up to the Tower, there wasn't a scratch on you."

"What?" Ron asked, blinking in confusion. "Then why do I remember—" Then realization struck him like a mallet. "That no good, black-hearted, bloody—She must've used a truth potion and then Obliviated me to cover her tracks!"

"That was my opinion, yes," Hermione agreed, her expression of remorseful understanding and pity only deepening as a look of pure rage and self-loathing crossed Ron's face. Ron quickly turned away from her, hiding his darkening expression as he started to sulk angrily.

With a sigh, Hermione once again started shuffling through the desks. Within another drawer near where the potions had been, she found perhaps the most dangerous material evidence against Harry: the blueprints of his lightsaber. This she could somewhat understand him leaving behind. Because the lightsaber was half magical and half technological in nature, nearly all Wizards and Witches in the Magical World would be unable to decipher or understand just what the blueprints were revealing. And, within the same drawer, she also found the focusing crystal recipe he had written down at her behest for when she had started brewing her own green crystal. As far as she and Harry knew, though beautiful and deeply personal to the individual who created them, the crystals were next to worthless without a lightsaber to install them in.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" drawled a cocky voice from the doorway. Ron and Hermione both spun around to find the only door blocked by Malfoy, with Crabbe and Goyle standing visible just over his shoulder outside. "Looks like two little lion cubs have wandered down into the adder den."

"What should we do with them?" Crabbe asked, an impish sneer on his pudgy face as he held his wand in hand, ready for fast use.

Ron growled in anger, his hands twitching with the obvious and powerful desire to draw his own wand and fight the three of them by himself. Though her face was remarkably calm and blank, Hermione was panicking wildly on the inside.

"You two can have fun with the weasel, I want to talk with the Mudblood," Draco said, stepping into the room fully and moving aside to allow his two large companions access inside.

As he did this, Ron threw caution to the wind, grabbing one of the nearby desks and hurling it towards the Slytherin trio. With a muttered phrase, Crabbe easily blew the desk apart, showering the redhead with debris and splinters, forcing him to cover himself protective. Then Goyle entered the fray, throwing casual curses and spells at Ron who frantically tried to dance and dodge out of the way, much to the obvious amusement of the two attackers.

"What do we have here?" Draco drawled out, ignoring the unfair fight that was happening a short distance away. His eyes were glued to the potion vials and the different papers that Hermione had gathered onto the desks. He didn't even bother trying to draw his wand to torment the girl because, thanks to the Inquisitor, she was defenseless and he was quite enjoying seeing her tremble in repressed anger and fear. He had been dreaming of seeing her like this since their first days here at Hogwarts. Grabbing one of the potion vials, he held it up and closely examined the white-opaque contents with a trained eye.

"Looks like some kind of medicinal potion," he said, mostly to him since Hermione could scarcely hear him over the racket as another pair of desks exploded. "From the consistency, I'd say it is for low-level skin treatment. Now why would you need something like this?"

Despite herself, Hermione had to admire Malfoy's experience and skill with potions. To be able to accurately surmise a potion's type and use just by seeing how thick it was, how it behaved with a slight swish, and from the faint scent it emitted, that was the mark of a skilled potion brewer in the making. Something that very few others could attempt unless they were intimately familiar with the many ingredients and types of potions out there. However, she didn't bother trying to answer him since she knew he wouldn't care what she said.

But as he set the vial down and was reaching for the blueprints, Hermione's hands shot forward and swiped the parchment away from his grasp. Malfoy just jerked his gaze up at her, staring at her with a cold calculation in his eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for his belt and withdrew his wand. Shaking badly in fear at what she knew was to come and rage at his insolent arrogance, Hermione glared hatefully at the blonde bully. Quite against her will, she slowly slid the papers back within his reach. At the same time, Ron cried out as he was finally hit by a cutting curse, falling to the ground as he held his bleeding side. His two tormentors were on him instantly, ruthlessly firing curse after jinx after hex with obvious delight at Ron's cries of pain.

"Good," Malfoy stated, as though he were congratulating a distasteful mongrel for finally performing the doggy trick he'd been forced to try and teach to it. Then, a snap of his wand and soft phrase, Hermione's arms were suddenly locked to her side as though her arms were bound by chains. It was a variation of the Body-Binding Curse and Leg-Locker Jinx. Taking the nearest parchment, the Slytherin's eyes widened greatly when he recognized the device that was displayed on it. Glancing at the name of the device at the top, he sneered, "Light…saber? Bland, but accurate."

"Don't bother trying to make one," Hermione spat out. "It's only part magical. Unless you know anything about technology and electronics, you'll never get it to work."

"…Probably," Draco admitted as he read with growing anger and bewilderment at the strange instructions and words on the blueprint, much to Hermione's surprise. She had been expecting an arrogant rebuttal from the blonde, declaring his superiority, and proudly proclaiming he could easily create a purely magical version of the weapon he now held. Then he turned a cocky smirk at her and an innate warning of impending doom shot through her. It was a sadly accurate warning. "But you probably do."

"What?" she asked in a slightly confused and scared voice. He was up to something and she knew she wasn't going to like it.

"I'm not a simpleton, Mudblood," Draco said, glaring at her despise his cocky sneer. "I know how you three, the 'Golden Trio,' are. Whenever Potter has something incredible or important, he always shares with you two everything. I know that you just have to know everything. I know that even if you'd never use it, you'd still want one if only to understand it."

Yup, that feeling of impending doom had been dead on. She had been growing increasingly pale as more and more of the blonde's remarks began to make sense. Hermione gave no thought to her next actions, it was all a burst of motion and action and reaction. She moved over to her schoolbag on the desk next to her, reaching in and grabbing what she knew was where. Draco reacted to her sudden movement by casting a Stunner at her, which he missed to her spinning out of the way. As she was finishing her spin, a green blade of plasma sprung to life in her hands, held awkwardly before her as though trying to keep Draco at a distance.

The blonde's sneer returned in full force as he saw the green blade but wisely didn't try to close the distance between them to grab it from her. He'd seen Potter use a similar weapon to cleave through a solid stone golem with little to no difficulty, there was no way he was going to try touching that thing. Instead, he cast a powerful disarming spell at her. Through a combination of awkward positioning, inexperience, and fear (of herself and Draco), Hermione was unable to react quickly enough. Though she did an admirable job of trying to catch the spell, it shot past her pathetic defense and hit her in the chest. As the spell sent her sliding backwards, nearly making her lose her balance and fall, the lightsaber was ripped forcefully from her hand. The blade deactivated as she lost her grip on the hilt, causing the pressure plates inside them to release and thus disengage the weapon, a creative safety feature she'd created on a whim.

The hilt itself careened gracefully into Draco's waiting hand.

When Harry had first given her the blueprints, she had quickly shot to the Owlery to send a request to her parents. After four days of impatient waiting, the owl had returned carrying a large box of everything she'd need to build her own with spares in case she accidentally broke something, every Muggle thing at least. Following her creation of her gem, Hermione had begun building the hilt, making triply sure that she wasn't even a millimeter out of alignment on everything. Once the internal mechanisms were done to satisfaction, Hermione had crafted the exterior. The hilt was a combination of magical rune-reinforced, highly polished gold and silver chrome, with some rubber handgrips along the bottom half. A small indention on the upper third of the handle was where the activation button and controls were located, carefully spaced and accident-proof in case of an unintentional activation. The overall effect was a stunningly beautiful hilt that reflected the perceived beauty of her focusing gem.

Taking the lightsaber, Draco held the weapon up as he carefully examined it. He held it with a care that would've been comparable to someone handling a live bomb, set to go off with the slightest twitch. He easily guessed which end the blade came from and held that side safely away from himself. Holding the lightsaber into his hand, he stared at the indention and the three buttons it held. With an almost hesitant touch, he pressed the center and largest button, a green blade springing to life a split-second later with a loud snap-hiss. The repeated noise finally drew Crabbe and Goyle's attentions, finally giving the near-comatose Ron a chance to breathe and recover as they stared in awed but cautious gazes at the strange blade their friend held.

Despite the beauty, Draco scowled at the green blade. For reasons he couldn't truly explain or understand, he found the active weapon to be deeply unsettling and almost repulsive to look at now that he was finally holding it. Forcing his unease and disgust aside, he pressed the small right button and the blade changed, shrinking to half its original meter and a half-long length. Pressing the button again, the blade returned to its original length. Switching over to the small left button, the blade lengthened to nearly twice its original size. After returning it to normal, he hit the center button again and switched the blade off. When he did this, that strange feeling of repulsion vanished.

"Curious," Draco said, examining the hilt once again.

Looking closely at that hilt, he noticed a faint separation at the gold band in the center of the hilt. Carefully grasping it, he twisted the hilt halves counterclockwise of one another. The two halves easily unscrewed themselves and he slid them apart. What he found in the center was a glowing green gem that was reminiscent of the blade he'd ignited. Plucking the gem from its housing, that sensation of repulsion returned, but in greater strength. Glaring down at the seemingly-innocent jewel as though it's deeply insulted his very being, he finally understood.

"This…thing is like a representation of you," he spat at Hermione, who was glaring at him with equal fire in her eyes for his clear disgust of her most treasured possession.

Tossing the crystal onto a nearby desk, Draco spun his wand towards and shot the most powerful destructive charm he could muster at the thing, ignoring Hermione's cry to stop. Miraculously, while the desktop exploded, the gem remained, flying in the air briefly before falling amidst the debris, unharmed without even a scratch or a chirp missing. Despite herself, Hermione let out a low sigh of relief that it survived. Perhaps the crystals were immune to such magic? Perhaps it was due to her own strength in magic when compared to Draco? Perhaps the gems could only be destroyed when their creators were killed? In the end, she decided it didn't matter. Her treasure had survived.

Snorting in annoyance, Draco stuffed the two halves of her lightsaber into his pocket while he turned back to the parchments. The next one he grabbed was the recipe of the focusing crystal. 'NO!' Hermione silently cried out in her head as the blonde thief began reading with a growing smirk.

Unnoticed by either of them, Crabbe had walked over to the desk with the potion vials. There was a strange glazed look in his eyes as he picked up one of the vials and stared at the potion within. He didn't know why, but he could feel…something coming from this potion. Beckoning him. For most of his life, and especially since coming to Hogwarts, Crabbe had yearned for power. To be among the rare and distinguished few Wizards who had risen above the mundane of society, like Merlin and Salazar Slytherin. To become one of the mightiest and most all-powerful of all for all time. That was his deepest and most fervent wish. Yet he was continually bypassed, mocked, and looked down upon by everyone, even in his own House and by his own friends. But now, somehow, he suddenly felt…like he'd finally found the secret to his desire of ultimate power.

Without a conscious decision, the vial was brought to his lips and he drank the potion down in one gulp.

Grimmauld Place, London
Same time

It was with a startled gasp of surprise that Harry was wrenched forcefully from his sleep. Grabbing his pounding head as he sat up, Harry tried to force the headache to stop. But for once, his Sorcery could do little more than ease the pain.

"What's going on?" he gasped out quietly.

In the ambient magic around him, he could feel great waves and almost physically painful convulsions tearing through it. It was like he was a dingy on the ocean and whatever was happening was a hurricane. But he was also able to get a very strong sense of where it was coming from, up north in Scotland. After what felt like an eternity, the hurricane began to die down. But in its place, Harry could faintly feel a new presence, a weak beacon of Sorcery was shining forth. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Harry silently contemplated what this bizarre event could mean.

That was when another and even stronger wave slammed into him like a freight train. The force of it was so immense that it actually caused Harry to recoil and collapse in an undignified heap on the floor, gasping frantically for breath. The magical convulsions were stronger than before, but thankfully he quickly managed to adjust, learning to 'ride the wave' as it were. But as the wave settled back down again, Harry could now sense two new beacons to join the first. He may not have much experience with divining the strengths and differences between auras in comparison to himself, but even he could sense that one of those three was exceptionally stronger than the other two.

'Three new Sorcerers? At once?' he wondered. 'What's going on in Scotland?'

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he crossed his hands and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned into his hands. Concentrating on the ambient magic of the world, he sought out the new auras up north. Wanting to find these new people, identify them, learn how and why they've become Sorcerers, and a whole slew of other questions. But his vision was clouded, not only by the dark magic of Grimmauld Place itself, but also by his own great frustrations and fear. After several long minutes, he gave up the effort as futile.

Still, in an effort to try and calm himself so he could return to sleep, Harry didn't separate himself from the magic. Instead, he just let the magic fill up him, carry him away. After a few moments of this, something strange happened. The oppressive darkness of Grimmauld Place seemed to fall away and he found himself basking in the turbulent natural flows of magic. It was an incredible feeling that left him feeling breathless but also at peace. Unnoticed by Harry, the ancient relic that he'd found in Godric's Hollow began to tremble as the inner light started to glow a bit brighter. The longer and deeper Harry delved into the magic, the brighter the glow became. Then, finally, the gold casing surrounding the crystal ball split apart as the entire thing began to float into the air. The pulsing of the inner light was now a steady light, no brighter than a simple candle. The crystal ball seemed to fade away as a ghostly figure took shape in its place.

"This is Myrddin Wyllt," a foreign voice spoke up, causing Harry's eyes to flicker open. Still deeply immersed in the ambient magic, his otherwise typical reaction of recoiling and gasping in surprise was…a bit subdued and delayed. "And if you're listening this message, then you've passed the first test." The figure wore long, sweeping robes of an unspecified color due to the blue hues that the man was portrayed in. He had a long beard that reached his waist and held a long staff with a large gem embedded in its end. The voice itself was speaking in a strange language that Harry normally couldn't have understood, in fact he only recognized vague words that sounded like ancient Welsh. But the voice wasn't just speaking to his ears, but his mind. "I congratulate you, seeker of knowledge. The only ones capable of scrying my crystal ball are those who have a pure heart and a calm mind, that which darkness holds no sway over. In recognition of this, I offer up all the knowledge and secrets I have gathered and learned of this most wondrous power that we share. Use my knowledge of Sorcery to the betterment of all peoples, that is all I ask of you, seeker. And may the gods smile upon your endeavors and fate from henceforth."

His concentration well and truly shattered now, Harry just gawked at the ghostly as it suddenly vanished. The gold casing of the crystal ball snapped back into their previous placing as the glow of the ball disappeared and the relic fell limply to the bedside table it'd been floating over, rolling and falling to the ground.

Needless to say, Harry wouldn't be getting much sleep this night.

October 31, 1996
Grimmauld Place, London

Yawning, Dudley stretched his arms out over his head. He was still mostly asleep as he made his way out of 'his' room, down the hall, and towards the kitchen for breakfast. He had only been in this magic house for a few days and he dearly wished he could leave it behind. The house was filthy, unwelcoming, and menacing in a manner that shook him to his bones. It was truly a wonder that he could even manage to fall asleep at night while inside the confines of this house.

Granted, the people inside the house were much more accommodating and interesting, enough to distract him at least. One of the early bright spots of his time here was when Sirius Black and Harry had taken him up to meet Buckbeak, a magical creature called a hippogriff. Buckbeak was a very beautiful and equally proud creature that, at first glance, Dudley had strongly assumed was actually a large Griffin or something similar. After going through the nearly ceremonial greetings with the animal, Dudley had even been allowed to touch and pet him. Buckbeak positively preened under the awed attentions and delicate handlings of Dudley's fingers and hands, something that surprised both Harry and Sirius considering Dudley was a Muggle.

Yawning again, Dudley reached the bottom step of the hallway staircase and turned for the kitchen. The house had taken on a noticeably brighter shade of darkness over the past two days of their stay there. Sirius claimed it was because their months-long cleaning spells and enchantments were finally taking affect. Harry credited the change to the ugly, emotional, and quite-disrespectful creature called a 'house-elf' Kreacher. Kreacher had finally fulfilled his dead master's wish in getting the locket destroyed. This, according to Harry, had put the house-elf into a much brighter state of mind than he had been in, for years probably, and the house-elf was not actually taking a clear interest in cleaning up the house again. But the barmy old man Dumbledore just smiled with those weird twinkling eyes as he said something along the lines of 'long held secrets finally being illuminated have now brightened this house once again' or something, Dudley wasn't sure he believed or even understood the man's point-of-view.

Reaching the kitchen door, Dudley pushed it open and made to enter but was suddenly stopped by a loud unfamiliar voice, "WHO ARE YOU?!" Dudley stopped moving as his eyes immediately flew towards where the voice had yelled from, seeing a gnarly and scary-looking man with a strange prosthetic eye he'd never met before. He had a furious look on his face and was pointing a wand at the young Dursley. "Answer me now!"

"Bugger," Dudley muttered, seeing the telltale buildup of magic light up the man's wandtip. Ducking down lowly on reflex, Dudley glimpsed the red light of a Stunner fly over his head where his chest had once been. Needing no further prompting, he spun and launched himself back towards the hallway. Seeing the flash and moving shadows on the walls, he quickly threw himself to the side, dodging another spell he didn't recognize. The spell crashed into the wall at the far end of the hall, causing the covered portrait of ugly woman to start shrieking once again from behind the drapes.

Dudley ignored the shrieks of the bat-shit crazy lady as he rounded the hall and jumped the staircase, taking them three at a time. A loud cracking noise behind him was quickly followed by the man's voice, "GET BACK HERE, YOU DEATH EATER!" and another spell sent his way. Yet again, Dudley dodged it by grabbing the wall and staircase handrail, jumping up and hoisting his legs high up into the air. Due to the drastic differences in angles, the mad-eyed man's spell shot through the space where his legs had once been, discharging harmlessly on a step higher up in a shower of magic particles.

"Slippery little one, aren't you?" the man said in a voice that almost sounded complimentary as Dudley resumed his climb. "But enough is enough!"

Just as he was nearing the top of the stairs, Dudley was only briefly able to glimpse one of the doors opening. Then his line of sight was abruptly blocked as the man teleported directly in front of him with a loud crack of displaced air. As Dudley recoiled in surprise, the man raised his wand in preparation for casting yet another spell. And unlike previously, both of them knew he wouldn't miss this time.

Just as his arm was descending to unleash the spell, a hand suddenly shot forward and caught the man's elbow, disrupting not only his magic but his concentration. Impossibly, the man's prosthetic eye shot to the side at an angle no normal eye could move, zeroing in on who had managed to sneak up on him.

"That's enough," Harry said as he stepped to the side to reveal himself to Dudley and the man. "He's not a Death Eater, Professor Moody. This is my cousin, Dudley."

"It's about time you showed up, Harry," Dudley couldn't help griping, his adrenaline still running quite high. "I thought I was goner for sure!"

Any relief Dudley might've felt was quickly forgotten as the newly-named 'Moody' turned sharply towards his cousin as he angrily jabbed his wand at him and barked out, "Potter! What're you doing here?! Dark Wizards aren't welcome here!"

Despite the man's very aggressive stance and voice, Harry didn't seem affected. His face was firm as he gazed at the angry Wizard. "Technically, I'm not just a Wizard anymore. And I'm not even Dark. Why don't you calm down? Dumbledore knows I'm here, and has known for days."

The man's responding growl echoed through the hall like that of a rabid dog in Dudley's ears. But after only a moment, he turned and teleported away, leaving with a loud crack of air yet again. Finally breathing a sigh of relief, Dudley brought his hand to his chest, feeling his racing heart. "Finally, he's gone. I thought he was some kind of lunatic Dark Wizard there for a moment."

"He's been called a lot worse, or so I've heard," Harry admitted with a slight smile. Turning, he leaned over the railing to glance towards the kitchen doorway. "It seems he isn't the only new visitor here. I sense Dumbledore, Moody, Sirius, Remus, and three other people down there. Moody's probably yelling at Dumbledore about 'security risks' being let in to the Order's headquarters by now."

"Should I stay in my room until they've left?" Dudley asked, feeling quite unwelcome and uncertain after Moody's attack.

"Probably would be a good idea," Harry admitted, glancing at his cousin with a saddened expression. Then he gave him a small smile as he said, "Don't worry, I'll bring up something good to eat as soon as I can."

"Thanks," Dudley nodded in relief. Walking past Harry, he headed for the restroom, having a sudden and very strong need to use the loo after that little escapade.

Harry paid Dudley just a passing glance before making his way down to the kitchen. He could already tell he was not going to enjoy the coming conversation. This would be the first time since his arrival at Grimmauld Place that the Order of the Phoenix had met. And if Moody's reaction to his presence was any indication, it would be an awkward and rough conversation.

(Author's Note) Sorry about the late posting and the short chapter. My muse just dropped off severely in recent weeks. Let's hope it gets back up again. I figured it'd be better to post a short chapter than to prolong the wait as I hoped my muse would return. But the good news is I have a clear plot line to travel down, so no worries about new ideas twisting me up like in previous stories.

Speaking of twisting plots, maybe you guys could help me with something? I've been getting this question a LOT recently and I've finally decided to address it. What should happen with the Sorcery journal that Umbridge took from Harry during her interrogation? I ask because (obviously) I hadn't made any plans for it beyond using it to give him Sorcery and Umbridge using it to condemn him. Anyone got any rational ideas that I/the Ministry of Magic could use the journal for?

On another note, before any of you start asking, no, Draco's reaction to Hermione's crystal (and saber) is not indicative of how all other Witches and Wizards would react to holding another's. Draco's reaction is simply a physical/mental representation of their own dislikes of one another. Draco despises everything about Hermione, from her heritage to her intellect to her physical appearance, and thus this enormous hatred and disgust carries over to her crystal. If Hermione had held Draco's crystal or saber, she'd have had much the same reaction. Suffice to say, your technique and skills would be drastically affected if you were forced to use a weapon that you had such an irrational disgust/hatred of. And that is also indicative of any other future (?) lightsaber wielders.

In case anyone wants a visual comparison of Hermione (now Draco's) lightsaber hilt, look at Mace Windu's saber. That was the concept I based this one off of.

And kudos to anyone who can guess who 'Myrddin Wyllt' really is. ;p