So people are still fav'ing and following. Guess ya'll don't hate it.

But I'm a little tired of following quite so parallel. So the new question I've been asking myself is:

How much of the story would someone like Jonathan change? His mindset, his skills, his outsider approach to the whole mess he finds Harry in?

The next question then, is how would these changes affect the course of the story? Would some things progress faster? Would some things happen at all?

Then you need to make sure you avoid the huge pitfall of stories like this: Jonathan cannot be more important than Harry. Jonathan can be a changing force. He can make certain aspects of JKR's original story end differently than they did. But if he eclipses Harry, the whole thing is a joke.

And then, how will the story change Jonathan? How will my own character change by going through these events? What sort of interactions can Jonathan have without either totally destroying cannon, or just becoming a total joke?

It's a lot to think about.

Oh well. Here we go. Chapter 7.

And again, I own nothing. Jonathan is my measly idea, the rest belongs to Rowling.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o

A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.

Walter Winchell

o – o – o – o – o - o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Showering wasn't something Jonathan had put much thought into, but now he realized that was a mistake. While the dorms had private shower stalls, you still had a common sink and dressing area. It wasn't that Jonathan was uncomfortable in the environment; the problem was his scars.

His body was littered with scars from his shoulders to his toes. He had burn marks from fires, purple patches from slashing hexes, scars from simple cuts, and some nasty pale skin on his right thigh from where he'd caught a secondary blast from a blocked Reducto, which had blown a hole clean through his thigh. The worst was on his right shoulder.

It was a branding of the word "Traitor," a gift he'd received from a particularly seditious Major of the R.W.A., Major Alexander Lestrange. It was after the fiasco that had been the Battle of Chattahoochee Forest, shortly before he'd become commander of the Seventh Rangers.

O – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

The slap across his face didn't hurt nearly as bad as the burns on his back. Jonathan had been shot off his broom and onto the burning deck of the USS Seeker, a fast sloop that was trying to break through an R.W.A. blockade around the Chattahoochee Ship Yards.

Someone had managed to pull him out of the fire, but not until he'd already suffered some nasty burns on his back and legs. How Jon found himself on the deck of an R.W.A. cruiser he didn't know, but he knew it wasn't going to end well.

Standing in front of him was Major Alexander Lestrange. Lestrange was known to most of the C.W.A. as "The Butcher." He loved to mutilate prisoners as a form of information gathering. Or just for fun. He was a staunch believer in pureblood privilege and superiority, and hated anyone who thought those born from No-Maj families could achieve the same academic or social status as purebloods; especially other purebloods. It was Lestrange that had led the squad that captured and killed Jon's parents.

"Jonathan Lionheart. My, my. You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you."

Jonathan looked up and glared at Lestrange. With his left eye swollen shut and blood flowing freely into his right, he couldn't hold a stare for more than a second or two at a time. The pain made his sentences less than coherent. "I'm… I'll kill.. You."

Major Lestrange laughed. "Oh, I don't think so. No, I think the war is over for you. I'll take you to Arizona where you can spend the rest of your life serving me. A sort of trophy, if you will." Lestrange walked out of Jon's limited view and grabbed something metallic. "Since that is what I'm going to do with you, I think I'll need to mark you as my own." He leaned into Jonathan's ear. "Such a waste, you know? Your family was long and distinguished. You could have been great if you'd fought for the right side. Instead, you betrayed who you are. You betrayed others like you. You're a traitor, Jonathan. You must be remembered as such."

The sudden, searing pain in Jon's right shoulder cut through everything else he felt, and Jon couldn't stop the guttural scream that left his lips.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Jon blinked the memory away, thinking just how lucky he'd been that day. The Constellation, Sagittarius and John Paul Jones had arrived shortly after his branding and, after a short parley, the C.W.A. settled on allowing Lestrange to keep the sloop and escape in exchange for all C.W.A. prisoners. Jon hadn't been happy with that arrangement, but Admiral Ice was more concerned with his people than he was with one small ship and the Major. No matter how hated that Major was.

His scars had been treated as best as possible, but many of them would never fade, no matter what treatments were used. This had never been a problem back home, but now, where he needed to keep his past a secret, it was an issue.

Jon managed a way around it. Brushing his teeth first while to other boys got into the showers gave Jon the ability to go in last and not have anyone see his scars. As it turned out, he also showered faster than the others. He jumped out of the shower and started pulling on his uniform, yanking a t-shirt down over himself just as Harry came out of his stall.

"You alright, Jon?"

Jon turned back to Harry. There was no look of horror on his face, just mild concern. Jon guessed he was okay. "Yeah. Just starving."

"Not bloody surprised," Ron called from his stall. "You get up before the sun and go running. Bonkers, if you ask me."

Jon and Harry rolled their eyes as Neville stumbled out of the shower, almost falling over. "You okay, Neville?"

"Y… Yeah. Just… Slippery."

After Neville got dressed, the four boys started making their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Going through the common room, they noticed no one else was there. "Blimey, are we up before everyone else?" Ron asked.

"Probably," Harry said. "Kinda nice, though. No one's staring at me." He mumbled.

Jon caught it and smirked to himself. This was a part of his new plan to help Harry. Try to get Harry to move around when there weren't so many others out and about, and surround him with people that were on his side. Ron was obviously one of, if not Harry's best friend. Neville seemed to like Harry, and he did say he believed him. So far Jon's plan was working. As they walked past some windows Jon caught their reflection and laughed at what came to his mind.

If they weren't wearing robes, the four of them made Jon think of a scene from the movie Tombstone, where Wyatt Earp, his brothers Morgan and Virgil, and Doc Holliday were walking to disarm the Cowboys. 'I think that makes Harry Wyatt. We'll say Ron is Virgil, Neville is Morgan…' It was right about then Neville tripped on his robes, catching himself just before he landed flat on his face. 'Okay, sort of. Guess that makes me Doc Holliday.' Jon wrapped his thoughts up as they entered the Great Hall, seeing that Malfoy and his gang were already there. 'And I'll be his Huckleberry any day.'

Ron groaned. "Too bad not everyone is still asleep."

Jon made sure that he and Harry sat so they could see the rest of the tables. "Well, it could be worse, and with you here, Ron, I don't think he'll do anything."

"He'd better not." Ron mumbled.

The boys started eating as other students started filing in. Jon watched as Luna came in alone, a dreamy look planted firmly on her face as she headed for the Ravenclaw table. He watched as she sat down and grabbed a roll, then suddenly looked at him. Her gaze hit him like a ton of bricks, so he turned his attention to the plate of bacon in front of him.

Ron looked at Harry. "So, who do you think is gonna be Quidditch captain this year?"

Harry shook his head. "Not sure, honestly. There's a few people that would make a good choice. Honestly, as long as their pep-talks are shorter, I'll be happy." Ron grinned.

"You three play?" Jon asked.

Ron shook his head. "No. Neville's not much for the playing the sport, and my broom has never really been good enough. Harry, though, he's a brilliant seeker."

Harry shook his head. "I'm alright. I think a lot of it rests on my broom."

"Harry's got a Firebolt! It's incredible!" Neville added, suddenly excited.

Jon raised his eyebrows. "What's so good about a Firebolt?"

"Are you starkers!?" Ron asked.

Jon shook his head. "I don't… Think so. Um…."

"He means mad," Harry explained. "A Firebolt is the fastest broom made in England. It can do one hundred and fifty miles an hour."

"Wow, one-fifty. That's not bad."

Ron looked at Jon dumbfounded. "What do you mean, not bad!?"

Jon shrugged. "We have a broom in America called the Voodoo. It can do one-seventy. There's another one that's sort of experimental right now, called the Mustang. It can do almost two-hundred." Jon, of course, didn't mention that those brooms were made for combat. Though now that the war was over, it was possible some Quidditch teams might adopt de-militarized versions.

Ron whistled and Harry looked amazed. "Have you ever ridden one of them?" Harry asked.

Jon grinned. "Well… I might own a Mustang myself. I know the girl who builds them and she gave me her first build."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron yelled. "You should join the team! You'd guarantee Gryffindor wins every match!"

Jon waved dismissively. "I'm not really good at Quidditch, so I'll pass. But I'm more than happy to let Harry ride it if he wants."

Harry's grin broke into a smile. "Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks!"

Jon shrugged. "No big deal."

They found their conversation suddenly interrupted by a very serious looking black girl with braided long hair. "Hello, Harry. How was your vacation?" Harry opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "Listen, I was made Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Since Wood's left, we need to find a new keeper. I want the whole team to be at the patch at five on Friday for tryouts so we can see how the new person fits in. Okay?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, great! Nice job, Angelina."

The girl smiled, then spun on her heel and stalked away, seemingly looking for someone else. Jon looked at Harry. "She's, umm. Serious."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but she's brilliant at Quidditch. She's gonna make a great captain."

Jon nodded as a bushy-haired girl came up behind Ron and Neville. "What in the world are you doing down here already?"

Harry grinned. "'Morning, Hermione. Surprised?"

Hermione sat down next to Ron and across from Harry. "Yes! I sat and waited for you in the common room and you never came out! Dean told me you all were the first to leave this morning!"

Ron pointed at Jon. "Blame him. We'd have gotten a few more winks if runner-boy over here hadn't woken us up early."

"You were already up, Ron."

"But I coulda grabbed a few more minutes!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It doesn't hurt to have plenty of time. I find being early helps make the day feel less hectic." She looked at Jon. "You run?"

Jon nodded. "Yep."

"Starkers." Ron mumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Some people enjoy physical fitness, Ron." She huffed out. "With how much you eat, you might want to join him." She looked back at Jonathan. "Where did you run so early in the morning? You could have gotten in trouble."

Jon nodded, buttering a slice of toast. "Yeah, I met Mr. Filch this morning. He's a swell guy." Harry, Ron, and Neville laughed. Hermione cracked a smile. "Fortunately, Professor McGonagall rescued me. She's gonna give me permission to go for runs on the grounds in certain places."

"Yeah, she sent a house elf for you," Neville said. "What did she want?"

"Oh. Class schedule problem. Nothing important."

"That reminds me," Hermione announced. She pulled a piece of paper from her robes. "Ron, we need to talk to your brothers."

Ron groaned. "Why?"

"This!" She pointed to the flyer. "They can't use students as guinea pigs for their hair-brained ideas!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're starting to sound like mum."

Jon winced. 'Oh, bad move.'

Hermione's reaction was exactly what Jon expected. Hermione hit him in the shoulder. "Ronald Weasley! We are prefects! This is what we're supposed to do!"

Ron mumbled something about a person named Percy, causing Hermione to 'humph.'

Jon looked at Harry, who was staring at his plate, seemingly upset at his friends' bickering. "Who's Percy?"

Harry looked up. "Oh, Ron's older brother. One of them. He was a prefect when he was in Hogwarts. He's a bit of a…"

"He's a git," Ron said. "And I don't want to be compared to him."

Hermione was about to respond when Seamus and Dean walked by, making Harry scowl. Hermione turned her attention to Harry. "You alright, Harry?"

Harry's eyes followed Seamus. "Just fine." He mumbled.

"Seamus thinks Harry is lying about… You-Know-Who." Neville whispered.

A look of understanding crossed Hermione's face, then it went sad. "Unfortunately, he's not the only one. Lavender thinks so too. I'm sure some of the other girls probably do as well."

Harry dropped his fork forcefully. "Oh, brilliant. So everyone thinks I'm a lying shite clamoring for more attention, is that it!?" His voice carried.

"Harry, language!" Hermione admonished, then recovered to a calm voice. "So you know, I told her to shut her fat trap when it comes to you. And not everyone thinks you're lying. I believe you, Ron believes you."

"I believe you." Neville piped in.

"Me too." Jon said.

"You see? People believe you. So if you could stop jumping down our throats, Harry, we would greatly appreciate it. We are on your side."

Harry looked guilty. "Sorry."

Hermione smiled at Harry. "It's quite alright. You just have to remember what Dumbledore said last year, about You-Know-Who. He said, 'His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.'"

"Good points." Jon said.

Hermione nodded. "And look at what's been happening. You-Know-Who's only been back for two months, and we're fighting amongst ourselves. The Sorting hat gave us a similar warning; stand together, be united."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, and like Harry said. If that means we're supposed to be chummy with the Slytherin's, ha! Fat chance!"

Jonathan glared at Ron. "And I said it last night. One bad apple doesn't spoil the whole bunch. How many Slytherins do you know?" Ron looked puzzled by the question. "I thought so. You can't judge one whole group of people based on Malfoy and his thugs. Do you think every pureblood wizard hates those from No-Maj backgrounds?"

"N.. No." Ron stammered. "My family's pureblood."

Jon nodded. "So am I. But I don't care. And I'm sure you'd find a Slytherin or two that think similarly."

Hermione opened her mouth right when hundreds of owls burst into the Great Hall. Apparently it was raining outside, as it seemed more rain than mail was being delivered to students in the hall. Hermione quickly made a space for a large barn owl to land in front of her. Harry grumbled, seeing that the owl was delivering a newspaper called "The Daily Prophet."

"What are you still getting that for? You know it's full of lies."

Hermione looked nonplussed. "It's always a good idea to know what the enemy is saying." Harry didn't seem thrilled with the logic as Hermione went through the paper, finally putting it down. "There's nothing in here. Not today, at least."

Professor McGonagall came up behind Ron and Hermione, handing everyone a schedule. She looked at Jonathan. "Mr. Lionheart, if you would please come with me for a moment."

The rest of the group looked at Jon concerned, but Jon just nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He got up and followed her behind the staff table. There he finally saw Mr. Filch standing behind Dumbledore's chair.

Dumbledore saw Jon and smiled. "Ah, Jonathan. Good. I understand there was a small misunderstanding this morning."

Jon shook his head. "No, sir. Apparently, I was breaking some rules I didn't know about."

"See, he admits it…" Filch started.

Dumbledore raised a hand. "Yes, well, I think an exception can be made for Mr. Lionheart. I see nothing wrong with wanting to go for a run. Have you prepared the maps, Minerva?"

"I have, and the rules he'll need to follow as well." Professor McGonagall handed Jon and Filch two rolled up pieces of parchment. One was a map of the grounds with courses drawn on it; the other was a list of rules. They were simple enough. Stay on the marked paths, if someone was going with him they needed to write their names down on a list on the common room bulletin board, and at any sign of trouble, return to the castle immediately.

Jon looked at Dumbledore. "These rules seem easy enough to follow. I'll adhere to them completely, sir."

Dumbledore smiled again. "I know you will, Jonathan. Thank you for agreeing to them so readily." He looked at Professor McGonagall. "Do you also have his schedule?" She handed Jon another piece of parchment with a school schedule. Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Minerva. Mr. Filch. I'd like to ask Jonathan a couple questions before he goes back to his friends." Filch walked away grumbling as Professor McGonagall returned to giving students their schedules.

Jon stepped closed to Dumbledore. "Sir?"

"I just wanted to ask how things are going. With you and Harry." Dumbledore whispered.

Jon nodded. "It's going to be a bit tougher than I thought. He's got a lot of people going against him."

Dumbledore nodded. "I heard about last night."

"Yeah. Needless to say, he's under a lot of pressure. I'll do what I can, though. I suspect a lot of it comes from what happened at the Triwizard." Jon paused. "He doesn't want to talk to anyone about it."

"It was a terrible thing he witnessed. And not many people can understand it properly."

Jon shook his head. "No. But I can. I'll see if I can get him to open up."

Dumbledore smiled. "Good lad!" He picked his voice back up. "Well, I'm glad things are going well. I look forward to hearing about your progress through the year."

Jon nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned and headed back to Gryffindor lunch table. As he was walking up to the table, he watched Ron's two older brothers walk away from the group of friends. "What's up?"

Hermione looked at him. "Oh, just Ron's brothers being… Well, you'll know, when you get to meet them."

Jon chuckled. "Not sure I ever will, we always seem to miss each other." He looked at the group. "So, what are we talking about now?"

Harry took up the conversation a bit quickly. "We're talking about how hard this year is going to be. Or how hard it might be."

"It's bound to be rough," Ron said. "O.W.L.'s are really important, according to Bill and Charlie. They affect what kind of jobs we can even get later on."

"We also get some career advice later in the year," Neville said. "To help us choose what NEWTS to study."

"Have you all thought about what you want to do? After Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Well…" Ron started. "I thought, maybe…"

Everyone looked at Ron. Jonathan started shaking his head. "Well? We're waiting!"

"I thought it'd be cool to be an Auror. There, happy?"

Harry nodded. "That would be cool." He looked at Hermione. "What about you, Hermione?"

She thought for a second. "I'm not really sure. I want to do something really worthwhile. I wonder how far I could take S.P.E.W…."

Jon shook his head. "What's S.P.E.W.?"

Ron nearly jumped out of his seat. "Don't ask her that! She'll be on about it for hours!" Hermione scowled at him.

"I would not go on about it for hours."

"You would too! 'Oh, the poor little elves…'"

Hermione hit him with her newspaper. "That is not how I talk!"

Jon looked around, noticing some of the students were starting to leave. He looked at Harry. "Time for the first class?"

Harry nodded, seeming to be far away. "Yeah."

Jon grabbed his bag. "Well, let's head on… Thataways." As the two boys headed towards the door to the Hall, Ron and Hermione followed, still arguing about whatever S.P.E.W. was. Jon looked at Harry. "Sorry for setting them off like that."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't really take much to set them off, it seems."

Jon looked sheepish. "Well, I'll do better to avoid doing that."

Harry shrugged, seeming to go deeper into himself. Jon sighed.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

History of Magic was a beating. That was Jon's official analysis. Taught by a ghost that seemed to have only one speed and tone of voice, Jon struggled to pay attention. He was convinced the only reason he could was that he knew he was behind and didn't really feel like failing.

He had found a seat next to Hermione, who was between him and Harry. Jon decided this was good, though, as he was able to look over and see Hermione's notes if he fell behind on his own. At first, Hermione was offended, but when she saw Jon was making his own notes, and only seemed to glance at hers for spelling or to catch up on a particular topic, she became much friendlier and even seemed to appreciate it. She was not thrilled with Ron or Harry, who didn't seem to be paying any attention at all. Jon couldn't really blame them.

The class came to an end and the four students walked out. Jon shook his head. "That's…." He wiped his face with both hands, looking at Hermione. "How can you stand that?"

Ron and Harry chuckled. Hermione just looked at Jon. "It's important information."

Jon shook his head. "I get that, but seriously. He just keeps droning on in one incredibly unbroken sentence moving from topic to topic and no one has the chance to ask a question. Ugh."

Hermione shook her head. "You seem to manage just fine. These two, on the other hand," she glared at Ron and Harry. "Don't pay any attention. And it shows in their grades. I think maybe this year I'll not be sharing my notes with you."

"Aw, Hermione. You can't do that. We'll never make through O.W.L.'s." Ron whined.

"Well, it would be your just rewards. You don't even try to listen."

Jon handed Ron his notes. "You can use mine, Ron." Hermione glared at him, but Jon just grinned.

"Oi! What do you call this? Did you write this in code?"

Jon laughed. "Well, after you decipher my handwriting, then you can copy my notes." Hermione giggled, and even Harry cracked a grin.

The four students walked outside into a courtyard where a fine mist was falling. The temps were cold and the overcast sky cast everything in a dull grey light. Jon chuckled as they huddled under a balcony. "Well, I guess the jokes about Scotland are right."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"They only have two colors; Grey and damp." The group chuckled. "So, who's the worst professor you all have?" Jon asked.

He got three answers.

"Professor Snape." Hermione

"Snape." Spat Harry.

"Snape." Ron said in a tone of voice that just agreed with the other two.

Jon chuckled. "That bad?"

"Worse," Harry grumbled. "He's horribly unfair to anyone outside Slytherin. Beyond that, he loves to give his students the hardest assignments he can."

"Well," Jon said. "He sounds great."

The other three grinned when Cho walked up to the group. "Hello, Harry!"

Harry looked at Cho. "Oh! Hi, Cho." Jon couldn't help but smirk as Harry's face turned a shade of red.

"How's your day going so far?" Cho asked.

"Oh, not bad. How was your summer?" Harry seemed to cringe after he asked this, and Cho herself seemed to tense up.

Jon decided this was probably a conversation these two wanted a little privacy too. "Well, I think I'm gonna make my way to potions. Hermione, Ron, you uhh… Wanna come with?"

Hermione caught the message. "Yeah, let's head down. Come on, Ron."

Jon turned and started walking back through the courtyard when he heard Ron. "Wait a second. Is that a Tornados badge?"

'What the what?' Jon thought. He turned to see Ron pointing at something on Cho's robes.

She nodded. "So what if it is?"

"Have you always supported them, or did you just decide to when they started winning the league?"

Hermione elbowed Ron. "Ronald." She hissed under her breath.

Cho stared at Ron cooly. "I've always supported them." She looked at Harry. "See you later, Harry."

Jon watched as Harry's face fell like a ton of bricks. Hermione spun to face Ron head on. "How can you possibly be so inconsiderate!"

"Me!? What'd I do!?"

"Didn't you catch she wanted to talk to Harry alone? That's why Jonathan was asking us to leave."

"Why couldn't he have just said that?"

As the group started making their way down to Snape's classroom, with Ron and Hermione arguing heatedly, Jon stepped in next to Harry. "So, that girl. Cho, right?" Harry nodded. "What's the story? You two…"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. It's… Complicated, at best."

"But you like her?"

Harry managed a small grin. "Yeah, a bit."

"Well, then maybe it isn't so complicated."

Harry sighed. "It's always complicated."

Jon winced at the tone, but couldn't think of anything to say to make Harry feel better as they entered the dungeon that apparently served as Professor Snape's classroom. As the four students sat down, Snape entered the room.

"Settle down." Snape walked to the center of the class. "As many of you may be aware, next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an acceptable in your O.W.L., or suffer my… displeasure."

Jon checked his temper. 'Well, Dumbledore will be happy. Not liking Snape seems to be getting easier by the moment.'

Snape continued. "After this year, many of you will cease studying with me. I only take the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means many of you will be saying goodbye." He turned to Jonathan. "Mr. Lionheart."

"Yes, sir."

"You will be expected to keep pace with the class. We will not be working on remedial potions simply because your education may be lacking, am I clear?"

A couple of sniggers could be heard from the Slytherins, but Jon just smirked at Snape. "Crystal, sir."

This seemed to annoy Snape, who spun and quickly marched to his desk. "We will be mixing a potion that is often included in O.W.L. exams: the Draught of Peace."

As Snape explained to the rest of the class what the potion was used for, Jon went from a smirk to a full-blown grin. 'All too easy.' The Draught of Peace was something Jon had brewed hundreds of times both in class and in the field. It was used by the C.W.A. to help soldiers deal with the stress of war and to help younger orphans sleep and focus on schoolwork. Jon had taken the potion several times himself when he first started fighting, but eventually he stopped needing it.

Almost an hour and a half later, Snape started walking around the room. "A light silver vapor should be rising from your potion." He continued to look into different students cauldrons. Jon could tell how well each student had done based on the sneer on Snape's face.

Looking around the table, Jon cursed silently to himself. Hermione's potion was perfect, the silver vapor rising from hers like it was from his own, but Harry and Ron weren't so lucky. Ron's potion stank like eggs cooked too long and fast, and Harry's was belching a dark grey steam.

Snape examined Hermione's potion; no sneer, but he gave no comment either. He came around and looked at Jonathan's. "Well, well. It would appear that the Colonials are finally catching up with the rest of the wizarding world." Jon's temper flared again, and he almost said something when Snape stopped at Harry's cauldron. "Potter, what is this?"

Harry tensed. "The Draught of Peace, sir."

"Is it? Tell me, Potter, can you read?"

Malfoy Laughed, and Harry grit his teeth. "Yes, sir."

Snape pointed at the board. "Then please read for me the third line of instructions."

Harry turned and looked at the board. "Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of hellebore." Harry slumped, signaling this was the step he missed. Jon couldn't understand what the fuss was? As far as he could tell, there were only three cauldrons emitting the proper vapor. Why was Snape making such a fuss over Harry's? 'Professor Snape is not very fond of Harry. He can, honestly, be very unfair towards Harry. They do not get along.' Dumbledore's words came back to Jonathan and he swore silently again. 'Great job watching out for Potter, Lion-dumb-dumb.'

Snape continued. "Did you do everything on the third line?" His tone of voice was smug, and it was making Jon sick.

"No." Harry whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

Harry raised his voice. "No. I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you did. Which means, Potter, that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco!" Harry's entire potion disappeared. "Those of you that managed to actually read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it with your name, and bring it to me for testing. Homework is…"

Jon stood suddenly from his stool, knocking it back into the wall behind him. The motion made the students in the room jump. "Excuse me, Professor?"

Snape turned very slowly. "Yes?"

"I assume that means you'll only be accepting three flagons, am I correct?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at Jon with wide eyes. Snape took two steps back towards Jon, sneering. "What makes you believe that false assumption, Lionheart?"

Jon pointed around the room. "I only see three cauldrons with acceptable potions sitting in them. If you plan to evaporate one student's work because it falls short, fairness dictates you should evaporate all the others that fall short."

Snape's sneer got wider. "Your impudence amuses me, Lionheart. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you and I will have a little chat once class is dismissed."

Jon glared at Snape, but sat back down, looking at Harry. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry looked puzzled. "Sorry for what?"

"I could have helped you avoid missing the hellebore."

Harry shook his head as Snape described the homework assignment. "Snape wouldn't have liked that either."

The class dismissed with everyone handing a flagon to Snape. Jonathan stood in front of Snape's desk, waiting for the other students to file out. Once they did, Snape stared at Jonathan from behind his desk. "Did you take Dumbledore's instructions to not like me as an open invitation for disrespect."

"No, sir. I called you out on what I felt was an unfair punishment of a student's simple mistake."

"How noble." Snape drawled. "You are aware, Lionheart, that you have no special privileges here. Your invitation to assist Potter can be rescinded at any time."

Jon clenched a fist. "Yes, sir."

"I would keep that in mind." Snape walked to the door. "Detention with me tonight, Lionheart, at dinnertime. I believe you are quite familiar with missing meals." His sneer grew wider. "I hope you're as familiar with moonstone as you are with the rules of fair play."

Jon ground his teeth together as he walked out of the room. "Yes, sir." Late for lunch, he hurried towards the Great Hall. As he walked up to the group, Harry slammed his fork on the table.

"Will you both shut up!? You're always having a go at each other, and it's driving me mad. Give it a rest, will you!?" He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Jon looked at Ron and Hermione, who were now bickering about whose fault Harry's outburst was. "What was that about?"

"I think Harry's cracking a bit." Ron said sounding miffed.

Hermione hit him with a book. "He's not cracking! He's tired of you constantly starting fights!"

"Oi, you loony. I don't start fights."

Jon rolled his eyes, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small canvas bag with a string tie. "Well, do either of you two know what his next class is?"

Ron looked at him. "Divination, top of the North Tower. Why?"

Jon put two sandwiches and two apples in his canvas bag, pulling the drawstring and hanging it on a hook on his bag. "Well, are either of you going after him?" Two blank faces stared back at him. He grabbed two goblets with pumpkin juice. "Thought so. See in Arithmancy, Hermione."

Jon left Ron and Hermione, with puzzled looks on their faces, in the Great Hall as he tried to find his way to the North Tower. There were a few different ways to go and he couldn't make heads or tails 'till he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"It's a lovely day for a picnic. The rain keeps the Wrackspurts away."

Jon turned to see Luna staring at him, her dreamy expression replaced with one of mild curiosity. Her gaze derailed Jon's thoughts. "Oh. Umm. Wrackspurts?"

She nodded. "Invisible creatures that float in peoples heads. They make your mind all fuzzy."

Jon chuckled. "Well, my head's fuzzy enough, so I guess the rain's a good thing." Luna smiled. "Hey, do you know which way the North Tower is? I'm trying to…"

"Catch Harry Potter." She finished, then pointed to a staircase. "You'll want to go up those stairs." She looked at Jon. "He wasn't in a good mood."

Jon shook his head. "He's…"

"Under a lot of pressure. Not many people believe him, about You-Know-Who. I do, though. So does my dad." She tilted her head, her face turning thoughtful. "What about you, Jonathan?"

The ethereal way her voice said his name caused his voice to hitch. "Ye.." He coughed. "Yeah, I do."

She kept staring at him until her face went dreamy again, a faint smile on her lips. "That's good. He could use more friends that do." She started skipping down the stairs towards the hall, then turned and looked back at Jon. "Have a pleasant day, Jonathan." Then she skipped into the Hall.

Jon stared blankly for a moment, then shook his head. 'Always the different ones.' He started making his way up the staircase Luna told him to go. Up the stairs and around a corner, he felt he was getting close. There was a painting of a knight who seemed agitated. When the knight saw Jon, he reached for his sword. "Stand and fight you coward!" Jon glared at the painting, and the knight stepped back. "Never mind, good sir. You may pass."

Jon shook his head and rounded the corner. Harry was sitting with his back against the wall, knees up to his chest and elbows wrapped around them. "I don't want to talk to you, Ron."

"Umm. My name's not Ron."

Harry looked at Jon with a surprised look on his face. "Oh, Jon! Sorry, I thought…"

Jon walked up to Harry and nodded. "Yeah, I know. They were still going at it as I left." He handed Harry one of the goblets. "Saw you didn't get much to eat, so I grabbed a few things." He pulled the bag free and handed it to Harry, then slid out of his backpack and sat down across from Harry.

Harry reached in and grabbed one of the sandwiches and an apple, then handed the bag back. "Thanks."

Jon shrugged. "Don't mention it." As he pulled his own sandwich and apple from the bag, he turned and looked out the window in the wall and out at the grounds. "Nice day for a picnic."

Harry chuckled. "What?"

"Oh, something Luna said on my way up. She also mentioned Wrackspurts."

Harry shook his head. "She's something else."

Jon grinned. "That she is."

Harry looked at him. "Snape give you detention?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. He did. For dinnertime too. Oh well. At least I'll get my twelve inches on moonstone done tonight."

"Sorry," Hary said. "I do appreciate you trying to stand up for me."

Jon shrugged. "Eh, don't worry about it. What are friends for?" He looked at Harry who was now greedily eating his sandwich. "Harry, can I ask you somethin'?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

Jon inhaled. "What happened… During the Triwizard?"

Harry stiffened. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jon nodded. "I understand." He took a bite of his sandwich. Once he swallowed, he sighed. "You know, the last battle of the American Wizarding Civil War was fought at Ilvermorny."

Harry stopped eating and looked at Jon. "R.. Really?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. The R.W.A., err, Restorative Wizarding Army, sent their last major fighting force to try and take the school. Seven hundred wizards and witches, plus their last ship came down on us."

Harry shook his head. "Ship?"

Jon grinned. "We have sailing ships in America. They're in other places around the world, too, but we have a Navy. Tall ships from the golden age of sail, cannons and swordfights and… It's an impressive sight." Jon sighed. "Well, it was. We used to have a hundred and fifty-three ships. Now we only have twenty, and only eight can fly.

"The last battle, at Ilvermorny, the R.W.A. had one ship, it was a small snow brig built near Detroit. Called the Purger. Some twenty guns, but a skilled Captain. That ship and the seven hundred wizards were actually expected to attack near Boston. Our army, the Continental Wizarding Army, expected them to try and hit a shipyard one more time. When they came to Ilvermorny… We had no real military support. Not for a while."

"We all had to fight. Anyone fifteen and older fought, the rest tried to evacuate. We had to hold them off for close to an hour before a ship of our own showed up." Jon rubbed his forehead. "I had a friend, her name was Elizabeth Koontz. We met in the hospital ward at Ilvermorny. She was a Ranger, and she was recovering from some battle wounds. We formed a fast friendship. If things had turned out different, maybe it could have been more." He sighed. "I lost her at the Battle of Ilvermorny."

o – o –o – o – o – o – o – o – o

"Jonathan!" Elizabeth yelled. "Their ship is coming around!"

Jonathan looked to his right and saw the Purger coming back, seeming to aim at their part of the castle. He looked at Elizabeth. "We need to stay here! Keep covering this entrance!" Jon and Elizabeth had been manning a two-story tower on the north side of Ilvermorny, providing sniper coverage for the north and western entrances to Ilvermorny.

She looked at Jon and nodded. "We stay here."

The two kept sending blasting curses and Reducto spells down towards R.W.A. forces that kept trying to breach the castle entrances. The occasional canon blast from the Purger would rock the tower as the ship tried to blast a hole in the building to create an entrance.

From behind them, over the constant blasting of cannon fire and hexes crashing into their tower wall, a trumpet sounded a charge. Jon looked and saw a swarm of brooms coming into the fray at high speed, one rider carrying the American flag. Behind the brooms was the outline of another ship. Jon looked at the standard waving on her topmast; it was a flag bearing the constellation Sagittarius. "They're here!" Jon yelled. "The Sagi's here! Look at it!"

Elizabeth turned and gave a cheer! "Hoo-ah!"

The two turned back to the ground, blasting enemy troops with renewed purpose. A shadow crossed over as the Sagittarius flew right over their tower, making a run at the enemy brig.

The brig captain, seeing the larger ship coming at him, ordered a broadside into the bow of the Sagittarius in an attempt to dissuade her. Unfortunately, the gun crews didn't adjust their elevation appropriately. As the brigs ten guns went off, one shot went straight for Jon and Elizabeth's tower, the blast sending them flying through the air.

When Jon came to, he was lying on the grass, the ride side of his body in searing pain. C.W.A. troops were running past him, charging at enemy forces inside the fence of Ilvermorny. The world was spinning and every sound was like a shot going off in his head. He stumbled to a kneeling position, looking around for Elizabeth. "Liz… Lizzie!?"

To his right he saw a body lying in an unnatural position some fifteen feet away. Jon stumbled over to see it was Elizabeth, contorted in a way that made Jon almost throw up. He body was twisted as if her back was broken, and her legs were resting at impossibly awkward angles, too. He fell down next to her, raising his wand and shooting red sparks into the air. "MEDIC!"

Elizabeth was gasping for air. "Jo… Jon. Jon!?"

He grabbed her right hand, hoping she could feel it. "I'm here. I'm… Gonna get you some help." He kept looking around. "MEDIC!" He yelled again, shooting more sparks into the air.

"N.. No. It's too… Too late. Please." She choked. "Can you… Can you hold me? I'm, I'm scared."

Jon maneuvered behind her and pulled her into his lap. She cried out until he stopped moving her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I'm sorry."

"Is alright." She whispered. "This is… This is better. To be with a friend."

Jon kept looking around, hoping to see someone running towards them to help, but still no one was coming. "I'm gonna get you some help."

She rubbed her right hand across his face. "Jonathan, look at me."

Jon looked down at her, tears coming down his face. This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to get hit here. "It shouldn't have been us. It shouldn't be you..."

She tried to shake her head. "Does… Doesn't matter now." She hitched. "Just stay…" She seemed to be looking past Jon, up somewhere in the sky. "Oh, mom." She lurched, coughed up some blood, then fell back limp.

Jon sat there with Elizabeth in his lap for the next several minutes, her blonde hair splayed over him before a medic finally showed up. By that time, Jon's own wounds had begun to take their toll and he was slipping in and out of consciousness.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

While Jon was telling the story to Harry, he left out the fact that himself and Elizabeth were Rangers. Harry sat across from Jon, his sandwich sitting in his lap, seemingly abandoned. "I am… So sorry." He whispered.

Jon gave a small shrug. "It was war. We shouldn't have been hit, but we were. I guess we all knew it could happen, but, still…" Jon inhaled. "My point, Harry, is this. I know what you're feeling. I don't really know what happened with the Triwizard, but I know you watched a friend die. And that's a helluva thing. For anyone."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah. It is." He whispered.

"Well, if you ever want to talk about what happened to someone who's not just trying to pry and can understand, I'll listen Anytime."

Harry looked at him. "You mean that?"

Jon chuckled. "Wouldn't have said it otherwise."

Harry grinned, but it faded fast. "Could I tell you now?"

Jon nodded. "If you want."

Harry looked at his lap, took a breath, and started telling Jon the story. He started with how he was too young for the tournament, but someone snuck his name into the Goblet of Fire and he was forced to compete. He talked about how Hermione was almost his only friend, as Ron had near-as-made-no-difference abandoned him because Harry became a champion. "We're over that now," He said. "But it sucked all last year."

Harry told Jon about the second challenge, and how he saved a prisoner that wasn't his own because he felt it was the right thing to do. He told Jon about the third challenge, and how Viktor Krum was hit with an Imperius Curse and attacked Fleur Delacour. He told Jon about how he and Cedric battled an acromantula together, and how Harry and Cedric decided to grab the Cup at the same time and share the victory.

Then Harry told Jon that the Cup had actually been a portkey that transported Harry and Cedric to a cemetery, and how Harry's scar started to hurt. He cried as he told Jon that Peter Pettigrew killed Cedric Diggory with the Avada Kedavra. He kept crying as he told Jon about how Voldemort tortured him and planned to kill him, and used his blood to create a new body; how Voldemort then wanted to duel Harry. He told Jon how his wand and Voldemort's were brother's, and when the duel started it created a Priori Incantatem, and the victims of Voldemort seemed to charge him, allowing Harry a chance to get back to Cedric's body and grab the cup.

When Harry was done with his tale, he was sobbing so hard it seemed he could barely breathe. Jon had seen this hundreds of times, and while he was glad that Harry had trusted him with this burden, Jon knew he was far from over it. Jon crawled over and wrapped his right arm around Harry's shoulders. "It's alright, Harry."

"I… Couldn't… Save him."

Jon shook his head. "Harry, you were injured, you were confused, and you were lost. Voldemort and Peter had the complete drop on you. There wasn't anything you could have done." He pulled back. "Look at me, Harry." Harry looked up. "I've known some of the bravest wizards and witches that have ever lived on this Earth, alright? It would have taken every ounce of skill an Auror or a Ranger might have to get out of that. And since Voldemort is the most powerful wizard known, even all that skill might mean nothing." He held Harry's shoulders. "You couldn't have done more than you did. I know that's not good enough for you, believe me, I do. But you can't keep looking back. You have to look ahead. Staying in that graveyard… It'll kill ya, Harry."

Harry nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeves. "Thanks." He sighed. "I just wish people would believe me. They think I'm a liar, or… That I killed Cedric."

Jon winced. "That's the toughest part. Eventually, the truth will get out. But people are always afraid of the truth, especially when it shatters their fragile world. You just need to stay the course, Harry. You're not alone. I believe you, Hermione believes you and Ron believes you. So does Neville. Hey, Luna believes you too." Both boys chuckled at that. "And I'm sure there's more. It'll take time, Harry, but don't lose heart. The night is always darkest before the dawn."

Harry gave a smile. "Thanks, Jon. You're the first person that's actually just offered to listen."

Jon shrugged. "Like I said, I get it."

A few students could be heard coming up the stairs to the hallway of the tower. The boys cleaned up their lunch with Jon taking the goblets. "I'll drop these… Somewhere."

"You don't have Divination?"

Jon laughed. "Heck no. Seeing the future? Please. There is no fate but what we make."

"You believe that?" Harry asked.

Jon shrugged. "Sometimes. Mostly it's a movie quote. Seemed to fit the moment." The two boys laughed. "I'll see you later, Harry."

Harry nodded earnestly. "Definitely, Jon. And thanks again."

"Don't mention it."

"Don't mention what?" Ron asked as he walked up to the two.

Jon grinned. "Wrackspurts, Ron. They make your brain all fuzzy." He walked away, leaving a laughing Harry and a dumbfounded Ron behind.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o - o

That feels much better to me. It feels a lot more AU and a lot less copy and paste. I'm pretty happy with this chapter.

Obviously, if something seems really off let me know.

Jonathan keeps growing and changing a bit in my mind. Originally he was going to be this insanely mature drill sergeant type, but as I've been working on the story, he's developed a sense of humor and he's become a bit more… Like a teenager. Which makes him a very difficult character. How can a teenager deal with the horrors of war, and yet not become as hard as stone? It's a challenge, to keep him balanced.

Major Lestrange? Is that a coincidince, I wonder?

I'd also like to help with some mental visualization, if you'd like. If you're curious as to what a snow brig is, you can google the USS Niagara. She's a small ship with a famous history, and would be roughly what the Purger would look like.

Sagittarius is a sixth-rate frigate. If you google HMS Surprise, you'll have a fair notion of what the Sagittarius, in my mind, looks like. Of course, you can imagine anything you'd like.

That sounded a bit Mr. Rodgers there. Sorry.

Anyway, let me know what you think so far. Ideas, questions, comments, concerns complaints and snide remarks are all welcome.