Back again! My most sincere for the delay, but my proofreader and I kept finding errors we needed to correct, which was tedious work.

I have a minor announcement: Since this story will be focusing predominantly on Harry and his friends and family stopping Voldemort in this time, I find myself needing to make a side story. I noticed the story would simply get too full if I wrote every interaction, every full moon, every prank, every romantic moment, and every encounter in this story. It would simply get too long and tedious, and it wouldn't be something I would take as much time for than if I focused on how Harry and co would defeat Voldemort like in most stories. I'll be starting a side story (working title Second Chance: Through the Looking Glass, though that might change later) of oneshots, drabbles, and short storylines that'll focus on things like the intimate moments of pairings, pranks, extra lessons, and past and preset interactions not pertaining to the main story. Things like the Christmas holidays and halloweens, first full moon, first big prank, and first study session with Snape will be included, and I will take most if not all requests for encounters, but beyond that, it'll be diverted to there, since it'll be too full otherwise. Not that there won't be any romantic moments and such in this story (how would pairings work for the story if I didn't add them?) but this isn't, and never will be, a romance-centered story where half of it would be focused on Harry's feelings or Ginny's thoughts or whatever mostly attracts the focus and attention of Romance stories. I'm horrible at writing those.

On a more pleasant note after that, I finally figured out who to pair Neville to (MAYBE). I won't tell who, that depends on the reaction you'll have on Chapter 6, but I'll give one hint: it'll be a very controversial pairing that in any other circumstances would be considered impossible and would have no chance of happening.

As usual: I own nothing, and everything belongs to Rowling.

Please Read and Review


Chapter 4

Fifth year Girls dormitory, Gryffindor tower, Hogwarts Castle,
Scottish Highlands. September 1st.

It was... nice in here, Ginny finally decided. Once she'd get used to sharing a dorm full-time with Luna, Hermione, Harry's mum, and three other girls, though she knew that could take a while. It wasn't that she didn't want it to instantly happen. On the contrary, she would love to have the number of friends Hermione seemed to have. The Patil twins, Fay Dunbar, not to mention Luna Lovegood and half of the Gryffindor male population of their time. Hell, even most of her brothers were on friendly terms with her at the least.

But it was impossible for Ginny to relate to people her own age. It hadn't always been that way, of course. Before coming to Hogwarts she was a lot like most other girls, if a bit tomboyish. Fussing over her annoying brothers and chores, and hair styles, riding brooms with Charlie, Bill, and the Twins (when the former two were around, anyway), and being an obvious fan girl for the boy-who-lived. But then her first year had happened, and she'd been possessed by that... That...

That MONSTER.

And even if she didn't have any control over her own actions, or couldn't even remember half of it, she knew. She always knew. The monster had a tendency to think aloud in that Merlin-forsaken diary moments before it possessed her. And she always knew because of that. She knew when she snapped the necks of Hagrid's roosters. She knew when she entered the chamber and let loose the Basilisk to let it eat and petrify some more. And she knew when the Basilisk had found its mark.

Not only by the pleasure the thing emitted then, though. No, she'd always been very strong-willed, even as a younger child. She'd tried to fight the control, tried to break free. For a time she even did it, throwing the diary away in Myrtle's bathroom and having a few days of reprieve before being compelled to steal it from Harry again.

But it was in those jubilant moments of the diary that its control sometimes snapped, and she could look and see who the victims-

No. Who her victims were.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's bloody cat. It might be the biggest nuisance

of the school after Peeves, but even that cat didn't deserve that.

Colin Creevey, her own year mate. One who she shared her enthusiasm for Harry with, and who'd wanted to start a fan-club in Harry's honour with her.

Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless Nick: one of Harry's year mates and the Gryffindor ghost, respectively. Nick was always there to help her back then, eager to get the first years to the right classrooms on time and giving pointers in the right direction. And while she didn't know Justin very well, his face was now forever burned in her memory.

As were those of the final two victims aside from her. The petrified and shocked faces of Percy's girlfriend Penelope Clearwater, and Hermione herself, both of hem staring into Hermione's make-up mirror. Her own first female friend in Hogwarts, aside from Luna. One of the few who actually listened, and who saw her as something more than just Ron's little sister. Who gave her actual helpful advice when they spoke.

And that thing had made her petrify her friend.

Not to mention with how she'd blacked out a few weeks shortly after that, and had woken up not only to her knight in shining robes (well, not really, as they were covered in blood and grime) and a Phoenix, but a dead basilisk and a destroyed diary right behind her, which had seemingly done all this to the school. Most of the time, she knew in her head at least, there was nothing she could've done. Lucius Malfoy had slipped her that diary, and it was the Monster Voldemort who had created it. It had possessed her, and while she had the will to fight it, at the time she didn't have the magical power to truly break the hold it had on her on her own.

But that didn't mean that at similar moments of reminiscence she didn't still feel the guilt. That it had been she who had been used. That she had been the conduit for the Horcrux. It sickened her that its magic had been inside her as it had been, and it was rare for her to have a complete night of undisturbed sleep. She still had nightmares, where she still heard his voice commanding her to do things. And evidently, she also received a permanent ability to speak to snakes out of the bargain, too. As if she needed any more reminders of that experience, aside from the fact her boggart nowadays mixed between a teenage Tom Riddle and the large snake that in this timeline was still sleeping in the underground, unexplored chamber.

All of that stuff, all that had happened in her first year at Hogwarts alone had forced her to mature incredibly quickly. So rapidly, in fact, that Ginny found she could no longer relate to other people of her year. They were still so childish, fussing over one's crush on a boy, or who had said that insult behind who's back, while Ginny had been possessed by a form of the darkest wizard alive- literally being overtaken by a piece of that bastard's soul. The troubles of her dorm mates paled in comparison to those, and she couldn't relate to her 'friends' anymore.

It was one of the reasons she hung around Harry, Hermione, and Ron so much. Like her, they also matured quite early for their age. True, Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon, as Hermione had once said, and she and Ron still argued often. Not to mention Harry's blindness and naivety considering how many people actually liked rather than hated him, especially of Ginny's sex. But they were always the first to understand the gravity of a situation. Even more so than the twins, who were at least two years older than Harry, and three years older than she was. They handled dangerous situations (like those that now almost seemed like a tradition for them) a lot better than most adults would. Hell, they did it even better than her mum and dad would.

And they weren't even seventeen.

And Harry did most of that all on his own. Quirrell, the Chamber, the Patronus that saved Sirius, the Tournament and the graveyard, the classes with Umbridge... She really wanted to look past his heroic acts and get to know the real him, she really did. But why did he have to make it so hard for her to get to know him by performing things so awesome and inspiring she automatically fell back onto her childhood shyness? Part of the reason she dated Michael was because she wanted to grow out of the awkwardness and that she was able to hold a real conversation with him. To be a real friend instead of just Ron's little sister. And unless she could speak with him without falling into a stutter or fleeing the room, that was going to be very hard.

Well, no point lamenting it now. He was back in the past, with a chance to actually meet and interact with his parents, so he would be preoccupied for the next few weeks. Maybe she could try again then. A bit of advice from Hermione on how to approach him wouldn't hurt either. She shook her thoughts out of her head. If she kept this up she wouldn't be able to sleep at night, despite Miss Potter's Occlumency exercises to help empty her mind. Instead, she focused on what her dorm mates were doing at the moment, starting with the ones she already knew.

Hermione sat on her bed, organising her books by school-required, school books picked additionally, and books for amusement. Her clothes were neatly sorted in her trunk, and everything else was already done, as well. Luna, on the other hand, had started to draw one of the new dorm mates with a Muggle pencil, her wand tucked behind her ear as she worked. Ginny smiled a bit: say what you wanted about Luna, but damn she could make incredible art if she was allowed some space, time, and quiet. It would be odd to share the dorm with the two of them. Hermione, the one obsessed with books and facts, and Luna, the girl almost no one truly understood, and who was ready to believe in the absurd.

Then there were the other four. One of them was looking at another of them work, and had red hair a shade or two darker than Ginny's, and green eyes all too familiar. Lily Evans, to summarise her, was a more social and warm version of Hermione: a bit obsessed with grades, books, and a good image in the professor's eyes. Not that Hermione was cold in that sense, but Lily was just... warmer, friendlier. Ginny could see where Harry got his good character from.

Then there was Marlene McKinnon. The girl was a bit taller than most of the girls in their year, maybe two inches, and had black hair and blue eyes. If Lily was the bookworm, Marlene was the athlete. The girl was well built and worked out often. Barely ten minutes ago, she had done her evening routine of push-ups while her feet rested above her on the bed. She also played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as one of the chasers, so Ginny planned to make an effort to be nice to the girl for the rest of the year. She wanted to be on the team this year, and it helped if you could get along with your team members.

Then there was the blond Mary Macdonald, who was sitting next to Lily, also watching the last girl work, both of them having their eyebrows furrowed in a mix of fascination and concern. During the walk up the stairs and the unpacking in the dorm, Ginny had learned two things: the girl was a chatterbox, constantly talking about other classmates whose names Ginny still had to remember, what she did this summer, who was attacked by Death Eaters last week... unless you had a very good distraction, the girl couldn't shut up. And second, she was Muggle-born. Not a surprise, really. Ginny faintly remembered a Natalie Macdonald also being sorted into Gryffindor in her third year, and the girl mentioned technically being a half-blood, so they could be related.

And the last was the one the girls were watching now as she worked. A petite Latina girl with just as many muscles as Marlene, Audrey Ramirez was a true tomboy. Even Ginny's acts of rebellion against her mother paled in comparison. The girl was wearing an overall, working on one side of the room that they had all cleared for her project. The beds now all stood on one side in the small room, close enough to the exit and the window that everyone could still get out and relax.

The girl's broken down motorbike, which she had unshrunk from her own pocket and put here to resume her project, was carefully being reassembled and fine-tuned from the last time she'd done this, taking up the entire other half of the room. Her father, a Muggle mechanic, had died when she was young and had a fascination for flying things. When Audrey had learned of the existence of magic, she'd magically sworn she'd not only finish the bike her father never could, but she would finish the dream he couldn't even begin: enchant it for him so it could fly.

And since it had been a magical vow, Audrey worked every day on it. And the other girls knew this as well, judging by the knowing glances Marlene sent their way.

"Ok," Audrey said, finally pulling herself from the underside of the bike on a small cart she'd transfigured from her trunk's lid. "She's finished and ridable."

"You mean it can fly?" Ginny asked in surprise. She hadn't seen the girl cast any spells whatsoever, aside from the occasional Wingardium Leviosa to keep something afloat in the air while she tried to press a screw or bolt into the frame with both hands. Did the floating come from Runes?

"No," Audrey said with disappointment. "But it can run again. At least I can ride it without shaking the bolts loose. I'll start the enchanting over the weekends."

"May I have a look?" Hermione asked, as she got up and edged closer, her hand outstretched, as Audrey replaced the engine housing itself.

"Only look, Bay. But don't touch nada," Audrey warned, batting Hermione's hand away. "That bike's sacred."

Hermione nodded and withdrew her hand, but she kept on looking like the others. And Ginny had to admit, when the bike was cleaned up it would likely look quite awesome. But that didn't mean it had to take up half their dorm.

Then again, if the enchanted Ford Anglia was the only thing left of her father and she'd sworn a magical oath to fix it, she would likely be working on it non-stop too. And she had to admit, all the beds lined up together this way to seem like one very wide bed did seem cosy.


Ministry of Magic Atrium, London

September 1st

Hector sighed for the umpteenth time, as his wife was currently in session with the Wizengamot. Well, not in session per se. The actual laws and debates of importance had been handled hours ago, and all that was left were the dozens of minor trials for muggle-baiting and the like - not something that required his absolute attention. So an hour ago he feigned an emergency at home, nominated Augusta his proxy on the spot, and left. He'd have gotten away with it, too, were it not for the fact that Arcturus, Hyperion, Charlus, Deckard and Seraphina, and numerous others of the Great Alliance had pulled the same stunt numerous times before in the previous months. As it was, he was merely sent scathing glares by Minister Bagnold and Tiberius Ogden (Dumbledore's temporary replacement as Chief Warlock, since the old man was at Hogwarts introducing the first years) and let loose on the world.

He did see the reasoning behind why at least one powerhouse had to be at each location. And he was quite proud to be considered one of those powerhouses, like his father Nicholas before him. But standing guard in the ministry atrium was about as boring as the Wizengamot session. The only difference here was that he could at least have some coffee here.

He grimaced, looking down into the cup he held. Well, if this thin heap of shit-coloured piss can be considered coffee.

Another Floo of the employee's entrance flared up, and Hector looked up. He hoped Arcturus had managed to contact his granddaughters. They might hold the next lead to one of You-Know-Who's Horcruxes, or if they didn't, they could at least act as spies in Death Eater ranks. For while Bellatrix and poor Cissy had indeed been forced to join them due to their accursed marriage contracts to Death Eater sons their father forced them into, they were still loyal to House Black, and not as estranged from their family as Cyrus Greengrass was. Oh, if only Randolph hadn't followed in his father's footsteps...

Speaking of the man, he was walking towards Hector right now. Only, Hector saw, he was dressed in rather odd dark robes, and had a silver mask in hand. A mask he immediately put on.

The wand going up that cast the Imperius curse at the man checking their wands left no doubt about his intentions. As did the Floo going off a dozen times now, each of them depositing Death Eaters left, right, and centre.

This was an attack on the ministry.

Wasting no time, Hector cast three Patroni: One to Augusta, and one to each Baron. "Death Eaters led by Randolph in the Atrium. Dozens. Need help," he spoke, before sending them away. Curse Dumbledore for being so meddlesome and opportunistic, but his method of communicating by Patronus forms was ingenious.

And then the first real dangerous curse was cast at a guard, and the battle really ensued. Hector stunned the first Death Eater, and cast a powerful Piercing hex at his heart to finish him off. No need to allow Death Eathers to revive him later so he could curse allies in the back. He tried to hit Randolph next, but the coward ducked back into the crowd of his fellows and Hector lost sight of him.

The ministry instantly panicked as the battle commenced. The windows overlooking the statues and the atrium all closed and had shutters roll down to protect the occupants, while the masses on the floor all fled to the nearest place to hide, aside from the Aurors and guards of the DMLE. But it didn't happen fast enough, and Death Eaters were sending curses at the Ministry employees faster than they could track. People fell by the dozens as the curses hit the fleeing masses.

Then again, Hector wasn't mockingly called a one-man army for no reason. He set to work thinning the ranks, casting a massive Confringo and sending it to the heart of the group. To keep the Death Eaters on their toes he immediately grabbed one of his backup wands with his other hand, and cast a Bombarda Maxima on either side of the group, keeping the incompetent ones disoriented.

Of course, that left the competent ones, and Hector was immediately reminded why You-Know-Who admitted most of them into his inner circle. He was immediately forced to retreat to the cover of the fountain statues, as three of the more competent ones tried to take him on, while the less experienced scrambled to safety, trying to figure out what was going on.

A loud crack echoed throughout the atrium, and Hector was relieved to see Hyperion and Arcturus apparate into the atrium at the same time. More cracks followed, and in total two dozen volunteers for their alliance, including the Smiths and Shacklebolts, followed them in fighting against the Death Eaters. They split off into two groups, with Hyperion and Arcturus erecting cover by conjuring wall or transfiguring debris into large objects to hide behind, while Anamaria and most of the others kept the enemy occupied.

With so many people now helping the ministry fight the Death Eaters (which had stopped appearing finally, and numbered in over seventy in total, all masked), the Aurors, guards, and Law Enforcement Officers all came out of their cover and joined the fray. But this didn't help the situation at all, in Hector's opinion. The Atrium was now one big chaotic mass of confusion, and it wouldn't be difficult for a Death Eater or two to slip out and further infiltrate the ministry. No, they needed order.

He raised himself out of his own cover and headed for the nearest small group of Death Eaters, who happened to be fighting Alastor Moody, the head of the Auror office and the only one above Hector in the Auror hierarchy before Longbottom attained his lordship. Moody was outnumbered four to one, but that didn't seem to stop him. The paranoid Auror dodged and weaved as he cursed the Death Eaters who tried to overwhelm him. An Avada Kedavra was cast at incredible close proximity, but Moody leant away from it and let it strike the Death Eater behind him. At the same time, one of his other attackers tried to cast the Cruciatus on Moody. But again the Auror was quicker, grabbed the first, and literally used him as a human shield before casting a stunner followed by an Incarcerous.

The last one finally got the better of Moody, and hexed his leg from behind him, knocking him over. Moody toppled, his leg hurt so badly it couldn't support his weight. But the Auror didn't let it stop him. With a grimace, he immediately rolled over and shielded himself from further attempts by the Death Eater to kill him. The Death Eater snarled, and an unforgivable was on the tip of his tongue.

Hector finally managed to reach this bit of the fray and tackled the Death Eater. Hector gave one solid punch to the face, shattering the mask and stunning the Death Eater, before snapping the wand in two with a careful chop of his hand. Then, while quickly grabbing his knuckle dusters and putting them on, he immediately pummelled the Death Eater's with his fist until the neck was almost entirely punched through, which with his heavily spiked knuckle dusters didn't take long at all. Ten seconds, eleven tops.

Hector finally got up and shook the blood off his hand, before turning to help Moody.

"Down already?" Hector asked, holding out a hand to help Moody up.

"Stuff it, Longbottom!" Moody growled, though there was less bite in it than usual. "Get me to the fountain. My leg's busted, and I can't duel like this. Get me a healer."

Hector looked down at Moody's left leg and instantly paled. That was an acidic flesh-eating curse on his leg. Invented by Reginald himself, it ate away at the flesh and prevented any form of magical healing from growing it back. The bastard must have taught it to some of the other Death Eaters. Hector silently performed the counter curse, but he already knew it was too late. Most of the leg was eaten to the bone, and only hanging on due to a few thin patches of flesh connecting them. Frankly, it would be a miracle if Moody kept the leg below the knee. It was a miracle the Auror only grimaced in pain as Hector hurried Moody to the cover behind the massive fountain and the statues, and wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs, as Hector himself would've.

"Stay here, and don't take any risks a Bones would," Hector warned Moody, who simply nodded and grimly leant over his cover, casting the occasional curse at distant Death Eaters before ducking back down. His immediate task accomplished, Hector turned to the next group, and relaxed slightly when he saw Arcturus. The man, on first glance, seemed outmatched; he was grappling with one wizard for his wand, while another hung around his neck, attempting to bite him, while a third tried to curse him from the side. But Arcturus didn't need his help. The man was a Black, and Blacks were extremely violent when pushed. And Arcturus was definitely being pushed.

The man let go of the wand with one hand, only to give an elbow to the one hanging around his neck, dazing and dislodging the wizard. This gave an opportunity for him to grab the wand again, and force it to the side. He headbutted the wizard he was grappling with for that wand (by pure chance or not Hector wasn't sure, dodging a curse from the third assailant), pointed it at the other opponent beside him, and forced the man into performing the wand movement for a Reducto.

While it wasn't particularly powerful, Arcturus's aim was true. The curse hit the Death Eater's wand hand, and he screamed in pain as it practically exploded. Arcturus used the moment to lift the one in front of him over his head, only to violently bring him down on his knee, breaking the back before rolling the body off of him. He also stepped onto the hands for good measure, breaking them and ensuring he couldn't hold a wand properly. He nonchalantly turned to Hector, finally noticing his friend.

Who immediately cast a Piercing Hex at the one with a ruined hand, as he attempted to raise another wand with his remaining hand. The man fell down with a new hole between his eye and nose. "Missed one," Hector said simply, and Arcturus shrugged in indifference. In the heat of the moment the Baron didn't care who stopped the enemy, as long as it was done.

"We need to rally!" Hector yelled over the sound of all the curses and incantations being exclaimed. "We're never going to win properly in this mess."

"Agreed," Arcturus said, before casting a Sonorous.

"EVERYONE! RALLY NEAR THE STATUES! KEEP THE BASTARDS OUT OF THE MINISTRY PROPER!" Arcturus ordered at the top of his lungs, and Hector put his hands to his ears. Man, the man could shout. And amplified with a Sonorous, it was a wonder Hector wasn't deaf yet from that shout.

But it seemed to have worked. People started to fall back, and aside from a handful of stragglers two distinct groups began to form: the Death Eaters, who still tried to push for the chaos, and the defending people of the Great Alliance and the Ministry, who formed a large group.

Hector sighed in relief when he saw the latter were more numerous, even if also more heavily wounded.

Of course, this tactic had its own disadvantage. Everyone could hear what Arcturus wanted others to do, including the Death Eaters. And with so many people now jam-packed together to defend the small choke point that was the fountain, it would be devastating to be caught in the path of an unforgivable or something explosive here. Even if you dived out of the way now, someone else would take the fall. Not to mention, someone could alter their voice so they sounded like Arcturus and countermand those orders, but those were risks the Baron was apparently willing to take.

"Spread out! One explosion and we lose a dozen people!" Arcturus called, as the hexes continued to fly his way, and he was duelling two rather tenacious Death Eaters alongside Hector. A single malevolent orange glint in the eyes visible through the mask of the right one told Hector all he needed to know.

Antonin Dolohov led this bit, alongside Reginald Lestrange. It would explain the skill being displayed in front of him now, as well as how the Death Eaters were so organised in a fight. Hector got a better grip on his wand, and diverted Reginald's attention away from Arcturus, so the Baron could focus on Antonin.

While none of the alliance had ever met the man personally, his reputation was the stuff of legend. Aside from Dumbledore and You-Know-Who, Antonin was reputed to be one of the most powerful wizards of England, and had the experience to back it up, to boot. Antonin was a rookie ministry soldier in the war against Grindelwald when it ended, but got a taste for the bloodlust it inspired in most of the men. He'd instantly joined the international duelling circuits when the war ended, and while being one of the smaller contestants in the ring, quickly rose through the ranks for his magical power, quick reflexes, and stamina, to the point of being six-time world champion in a row before disappearing to join the Death Eaters. And now, combined with the experience from the arenas and the spell repertoire that would impress even most Blacks, he was a true member of His Inner Circle, and one of his deadliest agents to boot.

Hector glared, pleased he was "blessed" to be the one dealing with Reginald Lestrange. Lestrange was another of the talented ones. One of Arcturus's longtime friends in Slytherin alongside Hyperion and Archibald Davis, he was a talented duelist. Originally he'd been a member of the Rascals, one of the core members, even! The man had been the one to keep the others in a happy mood. True, his pureblood views were nearing the radical, but they never interfered with his company. Even when Richard Croft's daughter, Lara, proved to be a squib, Reginald did not sway from their side. On the contrary, he and his elder cousin Leta visited the house of Croft more often, and doted the child with special attention. And he was so caring and sweet and careful with the children... half of the men in the alliance back then deemed him worthy of being the godfather of their child for it. Heck, the man had even adopted his son Randolph, a man barely twelve years younger than him, and the man's own sons Rudolphus and Rabastan, the former of the three Hector had discovered to actually be a Muggle-born instead of the half-blood he'd claimed to be.

That was why his betrayal and the joining of You-Know-Who hurt so much. He'd been swayed by the Mulcibers, his views on Blood Supremacy drawn out to the extreme. And one of Reginald's flaws was that he was always honest about his intentions regardless of what people thought of them, at least when one wasn't in a duel with him. He never held his views to himself, and the tensions between the various families thickened. Even Arcturus, who didn't keep a close watch on his children's and grandchildren's own views on the matter, felt uneasy whenever the head of House Lestrange showed up. Until finally Reginald severed all contact with them, and was sighted by Anamaria Shacklebolt among You-Know-Who's ranks three weeks later, laughing while torturing squib children of the Figg family to insanity. He'd had a bull's eye on his back ever since, and never dared approach the Alliance families on his own.

So Hector was pleased he didn't have to hold anything back when Lestrange started to try and curse him into oblivion. No, scratch that. He was bordering on ecstatic. Hector didn't worry about organising the troops anymore; Crouch was already in the crowd Hector had glimpsed when they began to rally near the fountain, and for all of his faults and indiscriminately incarcerating people for being Death Eaters he was a good leader. He would ensure people didn't break rank. No, he and Reginald would get to settle their score.

Hector launched his family's characteristic piercing hex at Lestrange's heart, determined to end the fool's life for good. But Reginald (Hector cursed the Alliance for training the bastard so well) instantly rolled to the side and launched a curse of his own. Hector flicked it aside back in Reginald's vague direction, and snarled when it went too high to hit one of the other Death Eaters. The opponent with a single good eye left snarled in turn and tried to keep him on his toes by casting a Crucio at Hector's feet. Hector had to admit it was smart. Even if it hit the ground, the blast of masonry torn away by the curse would pepper him and keep him distracted, leaving him open for a follow-up curse.

Hector jumped over it, landed in a roll to dodge two more curses from Lestrange, and sprang to his feet casting an Expelliarmus followed by an Accio at Lestrange's wand. The favoured technique failed, however, as Lestrange dodged the first and had too firm a grip on his wand for the second to work.

It went on like that for a quite a while. For while Hector despised the fact too much to admit it, he and Reginald were fairly evenly matched. Both their strengths lay in endurance and large magical reserves to call upon in order to outlast their opponent. It would only break off when they were both too tired to continue, or one admitted defeat and retreated. And Hector was too stubborn to do so.

Arcturus, meanwhile, deftly blocked any dark curse Dolohov threw at him. Like Antonin and Charlus Potter, Baron Black was a powerhouse, capable of casting immensely powerful curses in quick succession. His robes flowed swiftly, as he whirled around a curse a bystander threw at him, only to catch it on his wand and deflect it directly into Antonin Dolohov's face. Arcturus immediately banished the other Death Eater into another opponent, and he was surprisingly aided in this effort by Dolohov, who had lost his face mask to the curse and cast one of his own. Blood seeped from a cut below his left eye that started at the corner of his mouth and ended straight into his scalp, giving the illusion he was giving a wicked evil grin.

"Focus on the battle!" Antonin ordered, and any other Death Eaters looking to aid their commander immediately backed away. "Leave Black to me!"

Arcturus smirked, and cast a small tornado (small for him at least, as it was half again his height) at their feet, banishing it in Dolohov's direction. Before Dolohov could stop it, Arcturus sent an Incendio at it, turning it into a fiery whirlwind of death, as Deckard had once coined it. Antonin scowled and reluctantly apparated to a place out of its path. At that short a distance even he couldn't put out the fire and stop the small tornado before either could strike the Death Eater and either burn him or sweep him away.

Antonin immediately cast another curse at Arcturus before he could recover, breaking Arcturus's concentration on controlling the whirlwind, and it dissipated when he was forced to shield himself. Antonin pressed on the offensive, and kept casting curse after curse at Arcturus in an attempt to break his defences. Finally, one curse wasn't shielded against or dodged in time: a purple curse hit him in the left shoulder, making him stumble a bit. Arcturus snarled at the superior look Antonin now wore, and cast the most powerful banishing charm he'd ever cast in his life. It broke through Antonin's shield, and threw him back into the crowd of Death Eaters.

Arcturus used the opportunity, reached into a belt pouch, and threw an orange flask filled with a large amount of Exploding Potion (the closest thing magical people had to a hand grenade) at the area Dolohov and his Death Eaters currently occupied. Antonin's eyes widened as he eyed the flask, and immediately ducked below it. To make his point, Arcturus sent a Confringo at the flask for good measure, just as it sailed over the various Death Eaters.

The result was instantaneous. The following exploding fireball consumed at least fifteen people, a good chunk of the Death Eater ranks, wounded the next fifteen closest so heavily they were permanently out of the fight, and the shockwave threw everyone else in the atrium to the ground. Part of the ceiling collapsed on top of even more Death Eaters seconds after, the explosion having damaged some of the supports.

Arcturus and Hector shakily got to their feet, eyeing the crowd. He shook his head, trying to speed up the process that ended the ringing in his ears from that blast, as little good as it did. Fortunately, most of their side weren't injured beyond the curses the Death Eaters managed to land. Crouch was missing half of his small moustache, and it looked like Auror Robards would likely needa new piece of his ear sewed on, but at first glance Moody's leg seemed the most severe injury.

The same couldn't be said about the Death Eaters. Only half of them got up, and even most of those seemed to be hurt, judging by how they clutched their sides or limbs. The remainder all still lay on the ground, too wounded to move. Upon seeing this, and realising they were outnumbered and outmatched, most of them disapparated or Portkeyed away. Reginald gave one final sneer at Hector before he disapparated, while Dolohov grabbed the shoulder of a feral-looking man and a pair who might be the recently-graduated Carrow siblings before portkeying out as well.

In the end, they were left with only three people alive capable of answering questions before the anti-portkey and anti-disapparation wards could be restored. And even one of them managed to make it to the only working Floo before the Aurors and alliance members could stop him. Crouch managed to lock it down afterwards, but the damage was done. The remaining two conjured knives and stabbed their own hearts before anyone could stop them, leaving the Ministry nothing but a pile of bodies and a ruined atrium to work with.

"You alright?" Hector asked upon seeing the burned shoulder Arcturus favoured slightly. Arcturus grimaced as he took a pain relief potion.

"I'll live," Arcturus grunted honestly. "But I need to see my sister later today if I want to stay that way. Body-withering curse."

Hector nodded, and moved to ensure Arcturus would be one of the first to get help.

Hyperion strode over to them as Crouch and the other department heads started to clean up the mess and interrogate survivors about what had happened. The press wasn't here yet, as the main Floo was shut down, the wards prevented magical means of transportation, and the physical entrances were currently under a small pile of rubble created from the debris of the exploding potion. The edges of Hyperion's beard were charred from the near miss of a curse during the battle. "Where did you get that large a flask of Exploding Potion?" he demanded. "That could have brought the whole ministry down, you idiot!"

"Remember the flask Fleamont told me to drop near that large wall?" Arcturus asked. "The one in Berlin?"

"You mean the one for Tempelhof Airport or the one near the Moltke bridge?" Hyperion asked in concern that Hector shared. Please, let it not be...

"The one for the muggle Zoo flak tower, where Dumbledore faced down Grindelwald and where we thought Hitler had holed up." Arcturus answered, a small smirk on his face. "The one we didn't end up needing."

Damn.

Hector took a moment and settled his nerves. He knew from an off-handed comment at the time that the potion was powerful enough to bring down the side of the tower, opening it up for infiltration by alliance members. They didn't use it in the end, as Dumbledore and Fawkes lured Grindelwald to the top of that tower and faced him down before anyone could reach the tower, much less the roof where the two wizards were duelling. And Arcturus was reckless enough to use it in such a confined space?

Well, Hector now knew where Sirius got his recklessness from.

"Arcturus," a pale Hyperion whispered, having come to the same conclusion. You-"

"Don't you start," Arcturus growled, pointing a finger at Hyperion's chest. "I've been saving that potion for years. It's about time it finally got some use."

Hector sighed. The man had a point. It was of no use just wasting away, and what better way than to take a dozen or two Death Eaters along with it? Besides, they did survive it, even if it was a close call.

With a grunt, Hector walked away to find Anamaria and get her to guide them to her office Floo, not willing to argue the point any longer. It should still be open and allow them all to head back to Potter Manor. An hour later he was back at their improvised headquarters in Potter Manor. A dozen or flashes later, and Arcturus,

Hyperion, Augusta, and the Alliance response force were behind him. Wordlessly they all sat down as Dorea and others stormed in, determined to heal their wounds.

And each of them was unaware that in the ministry atrium a large number of the ministry personnel suddenly bled from their noses and reached for their throats. Or that a Death Eater buried alive finally succumbed to his wounds and dropped a vial, shattering it and letting the aerosol contents spread.


Fifth year Boys dormitory, Gryffindor tower, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands.

September 2nd.

Neville had to admit it when he woke up: life with Harry truly was an adventurous experience. He actually got to meet his parents while stuck in the past, and now he also got a chance to do his fifth year alongside them, even if they were a different year. That was something he would be eternally grateful for.

But still, if this is what Harry experienced on a yearly basis - and Neville knew enough of the previous years to know it was likely true - it was no wonder he was taking all this so well... even if the boy was a bit disturbed.

That was the only way Neville could call it. Harry pointedly ignored it, but they all saw the scars he wore when they all dressed for bed. The ones Neville had previously been unaware of because Harry had never actually changed while Neville was in the room. Neville was always up a lot earlier than Harry due to his voluntary work for extra credit in the Herbology greenhouses, often even earlier than the Gryffindor Quidditch practices, and Harry always went to bed either extremely early before anyone else in their dorm, or so late Neville was already asleep.

But now, when they had gone to bed at the same time, Neville was truly amazed and terrified at all the scars he bore. The scar from the Basilisk fang in his arm, the cut from Pettigrew and the graveyard that wouldn't go away for some reason. And let's not forget the writing on the back of his hand, the reason he now wore fingerless gloves nearly the entire day, only taking them off for showering and other watery activities. And they weren't even sure how far his emotional scarring went, though like Neville, Harry seemed to possess a low self-image, a lack of confidence in his own abilities, and was naturally shy. True, Charlus, James, his mum and dad, and grandpa Hector were working on that, as well as Neville's self-confidence, but he wasn't quite there yet according to them. The rest lay in believing that he could get the good grades his Gran always wanted him to get.

It made Neville wonder what kind of life Harry truly had. It did seem quite terrible, if this was how he was every day of the week. He never spoke much to strangers or people he didn't know well, unknowingly isolating himself in the process. Despite the attempts of others to get to know him, he only really was friends with Hermione and Ron before fifth year, and before the Troll incident, even she had been left out. The DA had helped him branch out a little, helped him get to know his year mates and some of the others better, but it wasn't as good as the usual friendships between people.

Maybe restarting the DA this year wasn't such a bad idea, regardless of how well their teacher taught this time around.

Neville got up with a sigh. There was only so much he could sleep in before he missed breakfast on his first day. And besides, he had an exercise he wanted very much to get to, in order to help Mr- no, Remus. He's practically your age now- during the transformations. And Neville hadn't told anyone, but since he got his new wand the spell work came a lot easier than before. So much so, in fact, that he already knew what his form would be, and was already practicing transforming. So far he only got the fur and ears down pat in one go, but the rest would come in time. The tips from Peter had certainly helped a lot.

Fortunately, the others were already up and gone (Remus, Vinnie, and Harry) or still asleep (Joshua, Ron, Sirius, Peter, and James), or in Moliere's case still hibernating underneath the bed, as Joshua jokingly called it, so he wouldn't get awkward questions on why he hadn't told them he was this far along already. He wanted for it to be a surprise for Remus, by Halloween at the latest.

He spent the next half hour practicing the Animagus transformation, and was pleased to note that he could now transform the fur and ears easily on command, and had started to get the hang of doing the tail. He would need help from one of the others if he wanted to do it perfectly in an instant, but if he got his estimates right, he should be ready in time for Halloween. And if not, he would ask James and Peter for help.

He took a brief shower, cursed when he found two of the three stalls were pranked by the Marauders to douse him in stink sap instead of water, and took a look at the time. 8:00, still an hour until the end of breakfast. But it would be close for the others if they didn't get up soon. Sighing and knowing he would be pranked at a later date for doing this, he walked up to Sirius's bed and tilted the mattress. The result was instant: Sirius rolled off the bed, and landed in a heap on the floor, waking up cursing loud enough it woke everyone else in the dorm, even the snoring Ron.

"Bloody hell, Neville!" Sirius said loudly. "What did you do that for?! Let a man sleep!"

"All right," Neville said. "If you want to miss breakfast every day to sleep in, I'll let you."

Panicked, Sirius cast a quick Tempus before swearing. "Bollocks!" He ran to the shower, desperate to get cleaned up in time. Only the door didn't open. Joshua had already slipped in while Neville explained the situation, and the bathroom was locked by him in revenge.

"Nuh-uh," James said, pushing Sirius away from the door. "If you go first you'll hog it, and it'll take an hour for us to get our turn. You go last." Sirius grumbled as he walked back to his bed, getting his clothes for the day out and ready.

Neville smirked as the others sat down to wait, and walked down to the common room. It was fairly empty, as most people were down in the Great Hall for breakfast. Neville made his way there as well, and wasn't surprised to see Harry and the others already at the table, talking with Hermione, Ginny, and who Neville guessed was Harry's mum, judging by how much Harry was looking at her. Luna and Vinnie were further back along the table, talking with a Latin-American girl from their year Neville recognised from yesterday. He sat down next to Harry, opposite Hermione who was perusing her Arithmancy book between bites.

"Sirius is up," Neville said. "Fair warning: he might be in a foul mood."

"He always is when someone else wakes him up," Remus smirked from Harry's other side. "But that in itself is a minor miracle to achieve. How'd you do it?" Neville looked down to hide his blush. He knew Ron was a heavy sleeper and Sirius happened to be the closest at the time, and the boy seemed to like pranks. But that didn't mean Neville liked the attention he would get for such things. "Tilted his mattress and rolled him to the floor."

Harry and Miss Evans's jaws dropped, and Remus laughed quite loudly. "Oh, that's a great idea for later. We usually resort to using some of Vinnie's less dangerous toys."

"So that's where all my cherry bombs go," Vinnie called from across the table. "I was wondering why my stash always seemed a bit smaller in the afternoons."

"Then maybe you should hide your stash better!" Remus shouted back.

Vinnie seemed on the edge of a retort, but it was swallowed when a large flock of owls entered the hall, and headed for various people around the hall: the morning mail had arrived. An owl headed for Hermione with the Daily Prophet, and Neville recognised Hedwig as well, who ended up landing with a small package for Harry. Harry smiled, gave Hedwig a large piece of his bacon, and put the package in his bag.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Harry's mum asked.

"It's a book for self-study for a transfiguration project," Harry answered, giving a brief but knowing glance at Remus, and Neville instantly understood. "I'll look when I have more time on my hands."

Harry's mum (Lily, Neville finally remembered her name!) nodded, and returned to her breakfast.

"Shit," Hermione said, making everyone from their time look up in shock, even Luna from across the table. It had to be bad. Hermione never swore. Even when her life was uprooted and they were brought to another time he couldn't remember hearing Hermione swear. If she did so now things really had to have gone to shit. But he wouldn't comment on it. He wasn't Ron Weasley.

"What is it?" Harry asked in warranted concern. Wordlessly, Harry was handed the Daily Prophet, and Neville began to read over his shoulder. The front page was dominated by a single article, as well as a photo of his grandfather and Baron Arcturus Black duelling two Death Eaters, one of whom seemed remarkably similar to Dolohov, in the foreground, with numerous other duels between the Ministry forces and dozens of unknown volunteers (members of the Rascals' Great Alliance, Neville realised) against the Death Eaters in the background.

A TRAVESTY OF TERROR: HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED'S FORCES ATTACK

MINISTRY!

By Barnabas Cuffe

Yesterday evening, there was an attack on the Ministry of Magic by over a hundred members of You-Know-Who's forces. This travesty occurred at 18:24, in the middle of a Wizengamot meeting. It is noted by this reporter that this was one of the few times Albus Dumbledore, famed Leader of the Light, was not present that evening, currently occupied by the beginning of the new school year and the Sorting that happened at his school the exact same night.

At the specified time, the Floo Network was briefly used to the point of overcapacity, as it dispelled dozens and dozens of Death Eaters into the Atrium. This reporter, who happened to be present for a promised article on the Quidditch World Cup and the reaction of the Department of Magical Games and Sports to England's recent loss against Kenya, saw them Imperius the security guard assigned to check wands, before a bystander suddenly started casting curses at them, notifying the entire hall of their presence. Accusations that these forces were led by Wizengamot member Reginald Lestrange, his son Randolph, fellow Wizengamot member Claudius Nott, and Undesirable number 4, Antonin Dolohov, are so far unconfirmed.

For the start of it, the Ministry's defensive forces appeared overwhelmed by the lightning-fast attack, and the Death Eaters briefly managed to gain control of the Atrium while the Aurors, led by Head Auror Alastor Moody and the head of the DMLE Bertemius Crouch Senior, were forced to retreat in order to protect the access to the rest of the Ministry. It wasn't until the arrival of absent Lords Hyperion Greengrass and Hector Longbottom, as well as Baron Arcturus Black the third, that the tide began to turn, as they brought numerous volunteers with them who immediately began to push the intruders back. Baron Black, a known veteran of the war against Grindelwald, immediately began to rally the Ministry forces and helped put them on the offensive once again. The battle lasted for over ten minutes, according to this reporter's count, before an unexpected massive explosion rocked the Atrium, destroying the Floos spread throughout the atrium and the visitors and employee entrances into the ministry and ending up killing over two dozen Death Eaters and wounding all the others to the point they all retreated en masse. As far as this Reporter knows, none could be taken alive for questioning, the only two prisoners committing suicide to prevent He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's secrets from leaking to the ministry.

Baron Black and his forces all apparated away, as well as Lords Greengrass and Longbottom, to places unknown. But that wasn't the extent of You-Know-Who's attack. Barely a minute after they had left, and when the ministry wounded and Wizengamot lords had been evacuated to Saint Mungo's, one of the final Death Eaters too wounded to fight released a terrible potion with his dying breath into the Atrium, which in the end killed half the Auror corps and put another quarter out of commission for months before Mr Crouch detected it and had it counteracted and dispelled from the Atrium. The name of this potion is unknown to this reporter, but the observed effects included (but not limited to): bleeding from the facial openings such as eyes, nose, ears, and mouth; vomiting; internal bleeding; and hallucinating and reliving one's worst moments, memories, and sins. There were additional symptoms, but for the sake of the immature readers they are not described in detail.

In addition to this, numerous Aurors were killed by various curses cast by Death Eaters, the Unforgivables among them. Another new curse noted by this reporter is one that caused a victim to bleed from their nose as well, before they were paralysed and catatonic with fear. While the curse is unknown, Mr Crouch seemed very concerned by this new curse, which has hospitalised thirteen Aurors, and it is suspected he intends to request that Minister Bagnold classify them as a possible fourth Unforgivable, considering how horrible the effects appear to be and how no one either saw the spell being cast, or saw it blocked.

Due to the fact both were handling the situation in the atrium, Mr Crouch and Minister Bagnold, who arrived later on the scene by the Floo in her own office, were unavailable for comment. When asked, some Aurors were willing to comment. Rufus Scrimgeour, a Junior Auror recently graduated from the Auror Academy, told me: "This was a horrible act. A direct attack on the ministry! Outrageous! I am most certainly thankful Baron Black arrived when he did, or things would have gotten much worse." This comment was added to by Mr Arthur Weasley, a junior member of the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts who aided the Aurors and Law Enforcement Officers in the battle for the Atrium: "It was good Baron Black came to our aid. Given how outnumbered we were in the atrium he very possibly saved our lives by bringing reinforcements. If he has reunited the Great Alliance in order to fight against You-Know-Who, I won't complain!"

In the end, word reached me from Senior Auror Anamaria Shacklebolt that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was reduced to a tenth of its strength because of this attack, with over half their number dead to the potion and new curse, and most of the remainder hospitalised, including Head Auror Alastor Moody, whose left leg was hit with an acidic curse and will likely need to be amputated. It is noted by this reporter that this leaves a very small force to fight You-Know-Who should he attack again, and it would leave public places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade woefully underdefended, even if the entire force were deployed to either area. Citizens are advised to leave their houses as little as possible, and to report any suspicious activity to the Auror Department.

This publication will report more on this story as it unfolds.

For a brief History of You-Know-Who and his known followers, please see page 3.
For Baron Black and his questionable history as leader
of the controversial Great Alliance, as well as its known members, page 4.
For the list of known casualties among the ministry forces
and the Death Eaters killed in the battle, page 7.
For speculations on how the ministry will respond to this attack with their numbers greatly reduced, page 8.

Neville looked up at Hermione, pale with this news. Gran had told him there had been a massive attack that left the Ministry grossly understaffed, and leaving Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix as the only real fighting force against him. But to see how badly it was reduced to nothing, to see how badly things got in the war? He never realised it was this bad. Even Dumbledore looked very concerned as he read the paper when Neville glanced at the Staff table.

"This is bad," Remus said, just as pale. "Very bad."

"No kidding," Sirius said, his tone the same as his name. Neville had been so engrossed in the article he hadn't noticed his dorm mates, as well as his parents, sit down beside them. "I bet my cousin Bellatrix is enjoying reading this, how her precious master managed to nearly destroy the Ministry's abilities to stop him."

"What do we do?" Alice asked. "If this is what can happen to the Aurors, what chance do we stand?"

"She's right," Ginny said, looking at Harry. "Right now, we know only enough to barely survive. But we need to know how to fight back. And someone needs to teach us." She kept looking pointedly at Harry as she said this. Neville immediately understood the message she was trying to bring across: Harry needed to restart the DA.

Harry got the message as well, for he instantly refuted it. "I'm sure Professor Clarke will teach us how to fight back against them."

"Harry, merely class training isn't going to be enough," Hermione pressed. "You heard James; Professor Clarke is going to focus more on combining potions and defence rather than spell work. You are the best of the six of us in defence. We need additional lessons."

"And I liked those lessons," Luna said, as she and the others of their year joined their part of the table. "It was like having more friends than usual, when you have those lessons."

Harry, however, still tried to squirm out of it. "But I'm not that good a teacher at Defence. And you saw how disastrously it ended last time."

"Umbridge isn't around this time to ruin it, mate," Ron pressed. "And don't you dare pull the 'I'm not good' argument. At age eleven, you defeated your first troll, you got past a Cerberus, faced down a massive lethal plant, survived an encounter with a wraith, and took down your first dark wizard."

"And when you reached the age of twelve," Ginny pressed on, despite the horrified looks of the Marauders and the astonished looks ofthe others. "You managed to escape the biggest Acromantula in history, stopped a sixty-foot snake when it tried to kill you, and ended up saving me from possession by the only man Voldemort" Ginny ignored the gasps of most people, as well as the remarks and queries that she dared speak his name "trusted with his most valuable possessions."

"And when we were thirteen," Hermione continued, realising they were on a roll to stop Harry from objecting. "You helped a wrongfully convicted man escape from the authorities, survived a werewolf encounter, and your Patronus drove back a hundred Dementors."

"You what?!" The Latina girl asked, and the eyes of the others widened as well in astonishment. Neville took his turn. "And that's not all," Harry groaned, and buried his face into his arms, his breakfast forgotten beside him. "At fourteen he outflew a dragon, swam with the merpeople to rescue

"And that's not all," Harry groaned, and buried his face into his arms, his breakfast forgotten beside him. "At fourteen he outflew a dragon, swam with the merpeople to rescue this idiot," he patted Ron on the shoulder, who swatted it away with a smirk, "and survived an encounter with You-Know-Who and his Inner Circle on his own."

"Bullshit," Vinnie called, and Moliere nodded in agreement. "No way would he let that insult lie. He'd be hunting you down for the hurt to his pride."

Neville nodded in agreement. "And you think he got the lightning bolt scar from head butting a fanged frisbee?"

Everyone quieted down their protests after all that, and he saw they were beginning to see Harry in a different light. A far better light, if he could see the looks of admiration Frank, Alice, and Joshua sent his way.

"And last year, when the tutor of our group was a toad-like hag who liked to torture us with lines," Luna pointedly looked away from Harry's gloved hands as she said this "Harry took it upon himself to teach us Defence. We even mastered the Patronus charm ourselves because of him. In fact, we joined Hogwarts simply because we thought it was safer here."

"You all can cast a corporeal Patronus?" A voice asked behind them, and they all turned around to see a sceptical McGonagall standing over them. Neville frowned, and saw that half their table, and even some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who had been listening in on their conversation, were looking at them curiously. Evidently, people had been eavesdropping.

"I can, professor," Harry said softly, not looking her in the eye. "Learned it from one of my tutors when we ran into Dementors."

"Then please, demonstrate," McGonagall said, her tone indicating she didn't believe he could do it. Neville couldn't blame her: it was unheard of for someone as young as Harry to master a corporeal one. It was taught in sixth and seventh year, but almost no one mastered a corporeal one while still at Hogwarts.

But Harry proved her wrong. He simply stood up, raised his wand, and said the incantation "Expecto Patronum." A second later, to the shock of the entire hall, and the surprise of even Dumbledore, a white misty stag emerged from Harry's wand, which moved closer so McGonagall could inspect it.

It was joined a second later by Luna's hare Patronus, and soon after, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron all cast their otter, horse, and jack russell terrier Patroni as well. Then it was Neville's turn. Remembering Harry's lesson on focusing on your happiest memory, he focused on hearing his parent's voice for the first time, when he actually got to meet them here, he sighed and said "Expecto Patronum."And no one was as shocked as Neville when a wolf Patronus formed

And no one was as shocked as Neville when a wolf Patronus formed from the white mist emerging from Neville's wand, which joined the five other animals.

He'd done it. He'd actually done it. He'd cast a corporeal Patronus. And on the first try, even!

The great hall was silent for a moment, as the Patroni faded one at a time. Then, Flitwick jumped onto his table and started clapping as much and loud as he could. He was instantly followed by Dumbledore, whose eyes twinkled madly as he stared at them inquisitively, and soon the rest of the hall joined them. Even the Slytherins clapped for them, reluctantly impressed by the impressive bout of magic displayed in front of them.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Flitwick congratulated loudly. "Twenty points each for a masterful display of the Patronus charm! Do come visit me after your Charms class so we can talk about it in more detail. I would very much like to hear about your tutoring."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, as he sat back down and holstered his wand. Neville instantly followed, as did the others. He cast a brief look at the others. The Marauders, Mum, and Dad all wore proud faces, and Neville blushed a bit under the attention. Their year mates all gaped at them in shock.

"Your schedules," McGonagall said, having finally recovered her voice as she handed them their course schedules. Neville was pleased to note that Charms wasn't until Friday. However, his mood soured when he looked at today's schedule. Defence in the early morning,followed by double history, before finishing with Potions before supper. And all with the Slytherins.

"Bugger," Sirius cursed, upon being handed his schedule. "Dumbledore must hate us. Our worst or most boring subjects and a Slytherin-exclusive day, on a Monday!"

"I think it's very helpful," Hermione offered, and Neville looked up to see her cast a wicked grin at an unnerved Harry. "That way, we'll know early on if Harry thinks we need the DA."

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry muttered, dropping his head on the table. "We're going to have a fine good year with Defence for once. I mean, come on, they managed to pass here at least four times, didn't they?"

"Bribed zem into giving me an acceptable," Moliere said immediately.

"I blew up my homework and books so often they couldn't grade me," Vinnie said. "Not my fault someone bumped over my vial of nitroglycerine."

"First teacher, Milo Thatch, was a stupid loser that put you to sleep faster than Binns," the Latina girl interjected. "I used to steal lunch money from guys like him."

"Clarke didn't get to teach that much in second year. Called away halfway through when half his family suffered in a major accident," Remus sadly offered. "Dumbledore himself had to take over, and Clarke left in such a chaotic state he took his notes as well. Dumbledore had to start from scratch."

"The guy after that was busier seducing every girl in seventh year than actually teaching us," Sirius said. "Ended up getting a student pregnant in the end, one of the Parkinson sisters. The man still holds the record for most girls fucked in the school."

"And the last guy..." Peter visibly shuddered. "That guy's a creep. We don't talk about him."

"I'm still convinced he's a vampire on a diet," James said resolutely. "Or at least spends too much time with one."

"Good thing he had a nervous breakdown because of you guys, then," one of the girls next to Lily said. Marlene, Neville thought James had called her.

Neville saw Harry's shoulders drop further with each confirmation their education in defence hadn't been good even then. And who could blame him? Having to teach over thirty people, and actually speaking to such a group in front of him would unnerve any reasonable person. Godric, Neville started to get a panic attack just thinking about it.

And this time, since there was no ministry to discredit him and persuade people Harry was lying, the number would at least triple. Even more so, as Neville started to look around. The entire Gryffindor table was (sometimes not so) subtly eavesdropping on their conversation, and the majority of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were leaning in their direction. Professor Flitwick had even stopped his handing out of schedules and was waiting for the response as well.

"Face it, Harry," Joshua said. "We would all gain a lot more if you gave us some additional tutoring. And you've done this before."

"Yeah, to a group of thirty people, tops," Harry whined from where his head still lay on the table. "Not half of the bloody four hundred students of Hogwarts."

Neville grabbed his shoulder in reassurance. It looked like his friend could use it.

"Hey, as Joshua just said, you've done this before. We know most (if not all) of the same tricks and spells as you do, and I even know I can do some you've never heard of. We'll be there to help you."

Harry looked up from his misery, and eyed those (now becoming close to two-thirds of the hall, and even had Slytherins among their number) listening in on the conversation. And then Neville knew they had Harry. The hopeful look in the eye of most, the desire to finally have a competent defence teacher, even if he was their age, or even younger than them... With Harry's hero complex, his saving people thing, there was no way he could resist. And judging by the near-smug smirks Hermione and Ron wore, they knew it, too.

Finally, Harry sighed. "All right; if Professor Clarke's spell work isn't up to the level we'll need, I'll arrange for a few meetings in the room we found out about," He relented, before turning to Hermione. "But this time, you're honest about the number of people per lesson. Because of you, I'm sceptical every time people use the term a couple of..."

"Sure," Hermione said, though Neville saw she was beaming. "I'll start up the list right after class."

"I bet you bloody will," Neville muttered. "I'll help with the Gryffindors. Joshua, can you ask the Ravenclaws?"

"Now wait a-"

Harry was saved from answering as the bell rang, and they all headed to class, to the Defence Neville suspected Harry was desperate would go right. Indeed, as soon as it rang, Harry was one of the first to rise. Ron was close behind him, likely to calm his friend's nerves and make him see reason as he always did. But Neville stayed behind long enough to notice the excitement that now hung in the air, as students chatted about how their tutoring from Harry would go. After all, the guy had to be good if he mastered the Patronus charm this early, right?

Neville arrived quite soon after Harry, and Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were already there as well. Neville waited outside, as soon the rest of his Gryffindor year arrived. The Slytherins arrived from the other way, all of them glaring at most of the group. Fortunately, most of them respectfully kept their displeasure aimed away from Harry, Neville, and the rest of their group, but the rest of them suffered the more for it.

And then Neville saw him, and his face visibly paled as he started shaking.

Him.

Snape.

Here.

The one man he feared more than those that tortured his parents into insanity. The one that kept his confidence and self-esteem as low as it was. In the same year as him. With the same classes. On the same Monday.

He was doomed.

The door opened and Professor Clarke led them inside, and Neville's legs followed on autopilot, the rest of him still too caught up in the fact he'd be sharing his school years quite closely with Snape.Neville pointedly kept his eyes averted from the Slytherin side of the room.

He was pulled down into a seat, and was relieved to find that he shared the table with Harry. His heart slowed its beating a bit: while Harry's wit often got them into trouble with the man, it was amusing to witness and helped settle the nerves. Not to mention Harry always managed to talk Neville back up from whatever pit of depression Snape managed to throw him in after the umpteenth cauldron explosion.

"You alright, Nev?" Harry asked. "You seem as nervous as I am about the DA."

Neville, despite his fearful shaking, managed to nod in Snape's direction. Harry followed it and seemed to instantly understand what Neville was going through, for he put a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder. He likely did know what Neville was going through. Harry knew the Lestranges had tortured Neville's parents into insanity, at least since last Christmas when they ran into each other in the same ward. And Harry also knew that Snape was even worse for Neville, with the looming presence he always had in the classroom.

But Harry did not simply know: he understood. After all, despite all of Neville's failures, it was often Harry who got insulted and disparaged in class the most, rather than him. Snape hated Harry from the get-go, even before class had truly begun, and nothing Harry did was right in the man's opinion. Then there were, of course, the "remedial potions lessons" Harry told them about, where Snape took every chance he had to mentally torture Harry to the point You-Know-Who could get into his head whenever he wanted to.

If there was anyone who understood why Neville didn't want to go anywhere near Snape, it was Harry.

"Calm down, Neville," Harry reassured. "Here and now, he's a student, just like the rest of us. He can't hurt you, and if he does, you have the right, and the power, to strike back. And I'll be with you every step of the way." Neville nodded, seeing in Harry's eyes he meant it. Yeah, Harry would have his back. He did so whenever they needed one another. As all Potters and Longbottoms did for one another.

"Thanks," Neville whispered.

"You're welcome," Harry smiled reassuringly. "Now pay attention: Professor Clarke's about to begin."

Neville nodded, as the man strode up to the front of the class, after the last person took their seat. It was a bit unevenly divided, with seventeen Gryffindors (the original eleven plus the six time travelers), and only nine Slytherins, of which Neville recognised only Snape and two people Neville recalled were named Avery and Mulciber by Harry. To Neville's shock Luna had drawn the short straw, and was sitting beside Snape in the front of the class, the former still wearing her dreamy expression while the latter looked like he rather wanted to be someplace else.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Professor Clarke called in a calm yet slightly hurried voice, like he wanted to say as much as he could in as little time as possible. "My name is Professor Isaac Clarke. Former Head Auror of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, most skilful potions and defence combiner of magical society, and this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher."

"Good morning, professor," several people called.

"Now, according to notes left by my colleagues, you have extensive knowledge of dark creatures and the theoretical basis of the Dark Arts, while being a bit behind in your curses and countercurses."

Neville was reassured quite a bit of people snorted at the expressed understatement. "Therefor, the next two weeks will be spent on catching up on the previous two years, before we move on to the required fifth year curriculum. Yes, Miss Bay?"

Neville shot his head around to where Hermione sat instead of the Professor up front, as did most of the class. Usually, Umbridge excluded (naturally), Hermione waited until the professor was done speaking before raising her hand. And the man hadn't even reached the material for what they would do for their OWLs yet.

"Professor," Hermione started. "What of our OWLs? Some of us had quite a bit of different tutoring, and we're not exactly up to date on what we need to know."

"You're right, Miss Bay," Professor Clarke admitted. "Rest assured, by the end of the class I'll have the required list of material and spells for you. Though judging by the performance in the Great Hall I don't think you'll need it."

Hermione nodded, and lowered her hand.

"Now, as your fellow student just pointed out, this year you'll be focusing on your OWLs," the man started, and with a flick of his wand, a blackboard appeared as if a disillusionment charm had just been lifted. On it, Neville could read the meaning of the acronym

OWL written out.

"Aside from the spells required for your OWLs," the man started. "The plan we'll be starting after the revision of the two missing years: we'll be starting on another subject. One sorely missed and underestimated by many wizards and witches alike. Can anyone tell me what that is? Miss Evans, go ahead."

Lily stood up from her chair. "Potions, Professor."

"Correct," Professor Clarke said, and he smiled in approval as he moved to the blackboard. "Five points for Gryffindor. Yes, Potions. An art many overlook simply because it isn't a direct form of magic. It usually involves no wand waving, and often only takes effect when it is drunk. But it can be used for quite a few useful things, even some Muggles are smart enough to figure out. Can anyone name one?"

Neville looked down in concentration, thinking frantically about a possible answer. What if-

"Yes, Miss Sterling?" Clarke asked, and Neville saw a familiar-looking Slytherin blonde, who might end up being the mother of someone in his year, rise from her seat.

"They can be used to perform a quick first aid on an injury during a fight, Sir," she answered.

"Technically correct, but not the type of answer I was going for." Professor Clarke said. "Still, take five points for Slytherin. Anyone else?" Neville thought some more. He was sure an answer lay on the tip of his tongue, come on, he had blown up so many things in potions, he ought to remember at least-

Blown up. Of course.

He lifted his hand into the air, clear for Professor Clarke to see. "Yes, Mr Longbottom?" Professor Clarke asked, seeing Neville almost immediately.

"S-Sir, you can make an exploding potion and throw it at your opponent." Neville answered, hoping his idea was, if not correct, at least on the right track. To his relief it was, for Professor Clarke's smile got a bit bigger, and he heard Vinnie chuckle behind him at the answer.

"Correct, Mr Longbottom. Take ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, one can brew various potions and use them in combat against your opponent. An exploding potion speaks for itself. But one can also throw a paralysing agent, or throw an aerosol that spreads only to a certain radius to the thrower's liking. One can blind an opponent with the Draught of White Light, which shines as bright as the sun once the vial breaks. I can give numerous examples why throwing potions can be quite handy in a fight, but those will come up in further detail later this year. Anyone else have an idea how potions can be used?"

To Neville's surprise, Harry immediately raised his hand as well. Professor Clarke saw this immediately. "Yes, Mr Potter?"

"One can take a potion that enhances what someone can already do right before the battle, such as an Endurance Elixir or the Draught of Strength."

"Correct, Mr Potter," Professor Clarke spoke, sounding even more enthusiastic. "Ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, enhancing potions are very handy in a fight. I myself once defeated a gang of nearly thirty half-Giants in the States with only my wand and a dozen vials of Stoppered Speed and Draughts of Endurance. So the use of enhancing potions is highly recommended, even if regulated by the Ministry at sport events. And there are dozens of other uses for potions like this in combat: a widespread aerosol calming Draught to stop your comrades from panicking, a flask of Exploding Potion stuck to a wall to lay a trap for your enemy... The uses are endless, and highly underestimated."

Neville hung on the man's words by the end of it all. Unlike Lockhart, he seemed to know what he was doing at least. And he also appeared to have quite a bit of experience, rather than just reading the books on it. Neville could actually learn a lot in these classes.

Then Professor Clarke took on a sad and resigned expression, and Neville's mood dampened a bit. "Unfortunately, the practical use of most of this is either delegated to Potions class by Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn, or too dangerous to use in practical classes according to the ministry. So unless I can clear this with Professor Dumbledore, we'll be focusing on the theory for the majority of this year's class."

Neville's mood had dropped by then. Despite the man's enthusiasm to the contrary, they'd only be doing theory for the most part. It looked like the DA would come in handy after all. Neville's smile returned at that thought, remembering how useful the DA lessons had been for him.

Indeed, when he tapped Harry's shoulder in the middle of a lecture on the OWLs and they both turned around, Hermione could be seen wearing a very smug expression. Harry groaned softly and dropped his head to the table. "Bloody hell."


Dungeons, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland

Harry cursed his own luck for the umpteenth time. One year, one year where things could go right with Defence. But oh no: the teacher was a potions fanatic and wanted to combine the two subjects. Oh, how he cursed his Gryffindor luck. Now, he had to do the DA all over again.

He didn't object to the DA concept as such. On the contrary: he loved it. Various people from other houses came and attended simply because they believed him. Hell, even Seamus, someone who had outright accused him of lying, had chosen to attend. It had been nice, to be a member of a secret club like that.

No, Harry's problems lay in two directions. One: he didn't want to be the one teaching. He wasn't that good at it, even if he could do a Patronus. Heck, the only truly good teacher he'd had in the subject was now in the same year as he was. Quirrell had been a stuttering mess until he'd tried to kill Harry, and "Moody" had been extensively focused on the violent curses and the Unforgivables all year before trying to kidnap him for Voldemort as well. And Harry wasn't even about to start on the frauds like Lockhart and Umbridge. He had had one of the most terrible DADA educations in the school's history. So why did all the people have to look to him for guidance?

And in that lay Harry's second problem with it: it would now be a lot more than just thirty. And even thirty had been over his comfort level back then. But from the looks of it, he would now be giving lessons to the whole bloody school. That was way too much for him to handle on his own. True, he had had help from Hermione and Ron, and the others who had been in the DA with him, but six people simply would not be enough to teach nearly half a thousand students, or maybe even more, as he didn't know this year's student count.

His thoughts were cut short, as he arrived at the Potions professor's office during the early part of the lunch hour. He sighed, then knocked. While he didn't fancy facing a teacher that had once taught Voldemort himself, he knew he needed to. Thanks to Snape, his skills in the subject were abysmal. He knew the recipes by heart due to Snape drilling them into the class, but he knew next to nothing about how ingredients worked together and mixed, or why it was important to stir only a certain amount of times in a certain direction - something he had heard was vital to potions, and yet something Snape hadn't taught. He needed to make up for that in order to keep up this year in the subject.

The door opened, and the rotund professor stood in the door. He immediately smiled upon seeing Harry.

"Ah, Mr Potter!" he exclaimed, jovially. "What a surprise to see you. I was just about to head for lunch myself. Would you care to join me?"

"Actually, Sir," Harry started hesitantly. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few moments. It's about my potions education."

"Oh?" The professor asked curiously, but stepped aside so Harry could enter. Harry nodded gratefully, and walked in. To his surprise, the room was very brightly decorated. Well, brighter than Snape's office anyhow, as low a bar as that was. Unlike Snape, the professor had various pictures of his club around his office, as well as various objects of tribute like accolades, trophies, and objets d'art.

Harry sat down in one of the luxurious chairs in front of the desk, while the small and fat professor manoeuvred himself behind the desk. "And what can I do for you - Harry, wasn't it?" He asked as he grabbed his own hands. "From what I heard, you didn't enrol in Hogwarts specifically so you could get better education."

"I did, sir," Harry defended. "And I believe I am getting it in most subjects. But Potions... It's the one thing our group never got proper tutoring for."

"Oh?" the professor remarked in surprise. "Was he or she that bad at the subject, then?"

"On the contrary, Sir: he was brilliant," Harry said, with bile rising in his throat at having to defend Snape. Yet he couldn't deny his teacher was the best potions master in the country, despite his inability to teach it. "If he bothered with official schooling, I bet he could have received a Potions Mastery with ease. But..."

"But knowledge alone doesn't make for a great teacher in the subject," the professor finished knowingly, and Harry let out a sigh of relief that the professor understood. "Yes, that would be problematic. Very well, I'll keep it in mind for the first month of lessons, and will take measures to ensure you're up to date in proper lessons by then. Just so I know what I need to correct you and your friends on, how did your last tutor teach you?"

"He simply wrote the recipe on the blackboard, gave us the ingredients, and told us to brew it," Harry answered truthfully. "He drilled us so we would memorise the recipes, but that's it. No lectures or explanations on how ingredients react in certain ways with one another, or why one needs to stir a certain way to get the desired result."

The professor looked thoughtful for a moment, before leaning toward Harry. "While I'm willing to help you and your friends, Harry, I can't do that on my own in a month. Or even half a year without endangering the education of your fellow year mates in Gryffindor and Slytherin. I myself simply don't have the time with OWL and NEWT students taking the exams, and I will need the help of fellow students to help catch you up properly. Will that be alright with you all, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't that opposed to a bit of tutoring. And Neville and the others could use the help as well.

"Excellent!" The professor replied enthusiastically. "That kills two birds with one stone. Mister Snape and Miss Evans have come to my office once already, asking for potions projects for extra credit. And while it isn't exactly common, I think they won't object to tutoring people for that extra credit. For now, I recommend you read these after class." With a flick of his wand, he withdrew two books from his cabinet, and had them land on his elaborate desk in front of Harry. "You and your friends order them from Flourish and Blott's. While Miss Evans and Mister Snape will help you catch up on the practical side of the subject, these two volumes will help you catch up on the theoretical side."

Harry nodded in thanks. "I really appreciate this, Sir," Harry said with a genuine smile. While the professor did indeed help Voldemort, the man himself was in hindsight not so bad. He really had been taken in by Riddle's charms, rather than outright helping him for the sake of being evil. And the man wasn't alone in making that mistake.

"You're quite welcome, my boy," the professor answered with a smile. "Ah, but I never properly introduced myself now did I? Please forgive my lack of manners!" He held out his hand. "Horace Slughorn, Potions Professor and head of House Slytherin."

Harry shook the hand. "Harry Fleamont Potter, Sir. Younger brother of the chaotic James Charlus Potter, and son of Charlus Jonathan Potter and Dorea Ursula Black. A pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you too, my boy," the man replied jovially. "Now you best be off for lunch, before your brother and his friends blow up the castle looking for you."

Harry nodded. With his brother and Sirius's tendencies to create chaos, and their access to Vinnie's bombs that was actually a real possibility. "I'll do that, sir," Harry answered. "See you in Potions."

Professor Slughorn smiled, and the two parted ways as they both headed for their respective lunch tables. It was a mostly quiet affair, as Harry arrived halfway through, and had to eat quickly in order to make it to the second class of History afterward with at least a partially filled stomach.

History, it turned out, wasn't a bit different from the future. Professor Binns still droned on about the Goblin Wars in a tone that could put everyone to sleep. And the class, as they also did in Harry's time, ignored him and instead studied history on their own, did other homework, or did things for their own amusement.

Harry was entertained by the variety of the things he saw, though. His mother was sitting with a potions book in one hand and a quill in another, writing down tips for her potions work for later, which Snape seemed to be doing as well. Joshua was sitting with a muggle biology book in front of him, intently studying the human body. Judging from an overheard comment Harry had heard earlier today, evidently studying for his chosen practice of a combat healer. Audrey, sitting next to him, was reading the manual of a motor bike, memorising it forwards and backwards as she made notations next to it. Moliere was happily looking at a patch of dirt he'd brought, shaping it so it made a neat pile, while Vinnie was... Harry had to rub in his eyes and look again, to ensure he wasn't mistaken.

Yep, he was building a bomb, taping sticks of dynamite to a muggle alarm clock and putting wires between them and other electronics taped on. And judging from the disinterested way the Marauders glanced at it, it wasn't that rare an occurrence. The Marauders, contrary to what Harry expected, were actually doing something useful for once. James, Sirius, and Peter didn't sit with each other, but with Neville, Hermione, and Ginny, and from the comments he overheard and the notes he saw being passed, kept giving tips for the Animagus forms. Harry shrugged, and opened the book he had on the subject himself that was delivered this morning. Ron had fallen asleep halfway through, so he could take the moment to study instead of playing hangman for the umpteenth time with Ron.

He was surprisingly close to managing the transformation, though he kept this to himself for now. Once he was sure he could actually do it he would tell Hermione and Ron, but he wanted it to be a pleasant surprise for Remus when the next full moon came. He even already knew his animal (surprisingly, not the same one as his Patronus) and had managed the various parts in separate transformations. He'd yet to manage a full transformation with all of his parts changing at the same time, but he wanted his father or Sirius present for that, so they could reverse it if something went wrong.

History of Magic class finally ended, and Harry packed his books, kicking Ron to wake him up, and headed for Potions. On the way there,he gave a brief summary of his conversation with Professor Slughorn to the five others of his time, so they knew what they were getting into.

"This could be interesting," Hermione said. "Remus said your mother was very good at Potions, and Snape was certainly not that bad at the subject, despite what happened with Harry and Neville there."

"I hope I don't end up with Snape," Ron muttered. "I have enough bad memories with the man as it is, I don't need new ones."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. Before seeing on the train he was a Potter, Snape was actually civil to him. Certainly someone he didn't mind befriending. "He might be different now that he's younger and not so embittered."

"Harry, this is Severus Snape we're talking about," Neville whispered. "He's the cruelest man I know, and you heard James talk about him."

Harry wanted to say his father was kind of biased, considering that both of them vied for his mother's attention. But he was prevented from doing so when they arrived at the potions classroom and the door was already open. As the students entered, the class once again split in two, with the outnumbered Slytherins mostly on the right and in front, and the Gryffindors taking up the entire back and left of the classroom. Harry took the precaution of seating him and Neville close by his mother, so she could help them if something went wrong.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen," Professor Slughorn greeted. "For those of you that are new to this class, my name is Horace Slughorn, Potions Master and professor of Hogwarts and head of House Slytherin. This year will be your OWL year: a very important year, mind you. Quite a number of jobs require at least an OWL in Potions for you to be hired, many even a NEWT, and I have quite high standards of you after teaching most of you for years. I will expect at least an Exceeds Expectations in your OWLs, given the work I've seen from you so far. Only with an E will you be accepted into NEWT Potions. Understand?"

Most of the class nodded, and Slughorn smiled as he continued. "Now, today we will be starting with the Calming Draught. The name speaks for the effects: it helps one calm down and settles one's nerves. But be very careful here: be even a little bit heavy-handed with the ingredients, and the drinker of the potion could be put in an irreversible sleep. The Potion is in your textbooks on page three hundred ninety five, and I've set out the selection of ingredients everyone will be needing in advance." He flicked his wand and the doors to the ingredient cabinets flew open. Indeed, a handful of jars with ingredients had been set a bit more to the front than the others.

"You have until the end of class to brew it. I will walk around and offer advice if you are stuck. You may begin."

Harry nodded, and immediately tapped Neville's shoulder. "Would you get the ingredients and cut them? I'll handle the brewing and add the ingredients for both of us if you can read the instructions."

Neville nodded in relief as he immediately got up and retrieved the ingredients for the both of them. Harry had noticed once in third year that Neville could handle the ingredient cutting and adding quite well in Potions, but that it was often during the brewing that things went wrong for him. While Neville needed to improve with that, until they actually got help from Snape and Lily, Harry would handle it for him. No need to give him a bad reputation about exploding cauldrons already and lower his self-confidence even more.

As Neville returned, they immediately got to work. Neville carefully prepared and handed the ingredients as he read from the recipe in the book, while Harry added them when and where needed and did the stirring for both of them. To his surprise it actually went very well. Unlike in his previous classes, the potion actually got close to the right colour when he followed the instructions. Admittedly, Snape had been hovering over them most of the time during those previous classes, and either obscured a particular step and only informed his Slytherins, or berated him and Neville so much they forgot one in their nervous state. But now, with the calm and much friendlier Professor Slughorn even helping them sometimes it went extremely well.

"Try adding a counter-clockwise stir to that after every seven clockwise stirs," Lily said from behind him, and he and Neville looked back to her. "It stops the potion from settling too much."

"Thanks," Harry said, and did as she instructed. To his surprise, it worked: the potion got the exact colour it needed to be at this stage after only three times of following his mother's advice. Harry smiled, as they were quite close to finishing the potion. He took a chance and glanced around the classroom to see how everyone else did.

Hermione and Ron were sitting together, holding a hushed debate while they worked. Hermione's potion looked much closer to the colour it needed to be than Ron's, but even hers wasn't as close to the required colour as his and Lily's - as well as Snape's, Harry noticed. The Slytherin was sitting quietly and working next to the girl that spoke up at defence. Sterling, he remembered her surname was. Ginny and Luna were working in absolute concentration, and their work was also remarkably close to being done, though slightly off-colour. James and Sirius, to no surprise at all, had potions the wrong colour of the spectrum entirely, and Audrey and Joshua weren't much better, despite the latter two working more seriously. Marlene and Mary were doing quite well, all things considered, but then again they sat next to his mother, a Potions prodigy. Surprisingly, Vinnie and Moliere's potions were quite good too, as were Remus's and Peter's.

He finally had the potion at the exact colour, and now had to let it simmer for a few minutes before he could stopper it and hand it in.

"That looks quite good," Neville said. "I thought for sure we'd do something wrong, and-

BOOM!

Harry and Neville both looked behind themselves. James and Sirius were covered in ash, and the cauldron had flames coming out of it as well. Vinnie whistled appreciatively at it from beside them, and a snickering Peter took a picture of it before Slughorn could vanish the mess. A couple of Slytherins snickered, and Snape wore an expression that was a mix of exasperation and amusement at their failure, but that was the extent of the reactions from the opposite house.

Slughorn sighed. "I'm afraid I can't properly grade that, boys. A Calming Draught can't do much good if it sets you on fire."

Harry simply sighed sadly, as he properly stoppered it after a few minutes. Looking at how his father was at potions, he could see why Snape compared him more to his father than his mother in those days. In any event, he could see a massive improvement in his potions skills between then and now, if he were to judge it by this potion. Last time he'd overlooked a step and it was entirely the wrong colour. Now, it was exactly as the book described it. He turned his and Neville's potions in at Slughorn's desk, who briefly inspected them.

"Excellent work, boys," Slughorn smiled after a few moments. "Worthy of an Outstanding, if I am seeing this properly. I can see you are both quite talented at the subject. Perhaps you don't need as much tutoring as you believed."

Harry nodded in thanks, and he returned to his seat. Upon informing Neville on how it went, he smiled quite a bit, even if he blushed as well at the praise and ducked away. After the class had ended, Slughorn called for Harry and the other five new ones to hang back, as well as Severus and Lily.

"Since I know you value your free time, I will keep this short," Slughorn said. "Severus, Lily: you both expressed your desire earlier for a potions project for extra credit. And while I know you both suggested you could improve the currently existing potions and do that as a project, I have a better idea." He gestured to Harry and his group. "The six new transfers have stated to me that while their spell work and theory is quite good, their potions education is... subpar, to give an understatement. While I have their theoretical education covered, I thought it a splendid idea if the two of you brought their practical studies up to OWL standards."

Lily smiled, and looked excited upon hearing that they could get to work together more often, while Snape looked like he'd swallowed a bitter lemon upon hearing that. And to be honest Harry couldn't blame him. He was terrible to children in his own time, and exhibited little patience for teaching novices the subtle arts of potions making (not that Harry knew them). But he must either be more tolerant of the idea than Harry thought, or wanted the extra credit very badly, because he still nodded. "An excellent idea, professor."

Slughorn smiled sympathetically. "I know you don't have much tolerance for beginners, Mr Snape. So I'll offer you a deal: if you can get them up-to-date by Christmas, not only will I give you and Miss Evans the extra credit, but I'll put forth a recommendation for each of you at the International Potion Masters Guild."

Harry saw Lily and Snape's eyes widen significantly at that. Clearly, such a recommendation meant much for both of them. Snape's sour face instantly vanished, to be replaced by a look of determination.

"In that case, I will see them through even if I have to drag them into the potions labs myself."

"That's the spirit," Slughorn said jovially. "I will leave it to the eight of you to work out the details on how you'll arrange the tutoring. If you require the use of them, the potions labs will be opened for you in the periods from six o'clock until curfew on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. Be sure to write down what ingredients and how much of them you use during the sessions, so I know what to restock afterward. Unless any of you have any questions, I believe that will be all."

Harry nodded, and led them all out of the classroom. Snape had barely even closed the door to the classroom when he turned on them all and spoke immediately. "Alright, since this is on incredibly short notice, there is no use in having any tutoring tonight. Can you give us a short version of what your education looked like, so Lily and I can roughly estimate what we need to teach you?"

"Our potions classes were simplistic," Hermione immediately started explaining for them, immediately launching into an explanation of the lessons as Harry immediately zoned out. He'd given Slughorn a similar summary during lunch. At the end, upon hearing how Slughorn had recommended books they'd read to catch up on the theory part of Potions, Snape nodded.

"Those books are a good start for catching up on the first three years," He admitted. "Once we get to the material of fourth year, come seek us out, and Lily and I will help you with our own notes on potions. Most of them have quite a few tips and tricks that help with the brewing or make the potion even better."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised at the fact Snape seemed so ready to help out a Potter (of all people). Apparently, Snape had read his mind again, for he briefly got his sneer back.

"As much as I'm loath to teach you, Potter, I really need that recommendation into the IPMG," Snape drawled, which softened upon receiving a stern glare from Lily. "And if that means I have to help you pass your OWL in Potions, so be it."

Harry nodded. So it was more of a Slytherin move after all. Snape really needed his help to become a recognised potions master. Harry knew James could, and likely would, fail his Potions OWL just to spite Snape. Hell, with how Snape had treated him for most of his original schooling at Hogwarts, he was tempted to do just that himself, though he hated to admit it - even to himself.

But he wasn't his father. Snape had only behaved badly to him once, and that was when he confused him for James. He didn't harbour any actual ill will to Harry aside from being the brother of his arch nemesis. Perhaps, if Harry worked together with Snape on this, he could actually prevent Snape from becoming a git to every Potter he encountered. It was all problem prevention, really. The reminder of Charlus to give everyone, even those he originally hated, a chance to prove themselves to Harry sealed the deal.

"All right," Harry said. "I suggest we work on Fridays and Sundays, then. It'll be the weekend or close to it, so fewer people will be in the labs to disturb us. I might have Quidditch tryouts and practice on occasion, but I don't have a problem catching those up on one of the other days."

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry in surprise at his tolerance, but Snape nodded. "Very well. I'll prepare a suitable schedule so we can work properly on this later. I suggest that while we all work together in the same room, we split this between Lily and me so neither of us is overwhelmed in one go."

"That's a good idea," Lily admitted. "Two groups of four, me in one and Severus in another, so there is at least one expert in each group." There was a bit more taking afterwards, but mostly it was settling details like exact times and homework, something he wisely left to Hermione to settle, since she was more detailed and focused when it came to that. In the end, they decided that Ron, Luna, and Hermione would mostly work with Lily (much to his mother's disappointment, Harry noted), while he, Ginny, and Neville would be taught by Snape.

That was a development that surprised Harry quite a bit, especially considering the fact Snape was the more liable of the two at the moment to curse one of the Potters. But Snape reasoned that since he was better than Lily, and Harry, Neville, and Ginny were the worst three originally at Potions, it would be better if they were taught by Snape. And Snape also promised for the sake of that recommendation that he wouldn't curse any of them, at least until they were all up to his standards.

"I think we covered every possible angle on this," Hermione said after a few moments. "Meet you all on Friday, then?"

"That would be the best choice," Snape agreed. "Until then, please keep up with the theory."

"We will," Harry promised. "See you then."

Snape nodded and walked away from them, deeper into the dungeons- likely to his own common room. Harry and the others made their way back up, Lily and Luna walking ahead as they spoke of another of Luna's magical creatures, a Magicking Morph if Harry heard the name right.

"What the hell, mate," Ron whispered as they walked back to their common room. "How are you so calm at being taught by bloody Snape?! You know how he treats your family."

Harry nodded. "I know. And I never said it would be an easy few months. But his treatment of Potters isn't entirely unfounded, if you knew what my father has done to him. And besides, if I treat him well now, he might actually be less of an arse later, when we grow up a second time."

"That's actually a very mature attitude," Hermione complimented, before patting him on the head. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Oh, sod off," Harry laughed, swatting her hand away. "But just think, Hermione: if I can be this mature already, imagine all the things you can do with Ron."

Harry laughed at the look of pure terror that now covered Ron's face.


Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England. September 3rd

Antonin Dolohov scowled, as he walked through the lobby of the Manor. The scar across his face from his fight with Arcturus Black still hadn't healed. The cut really itched in the damp of the misty evening. It didn't help that a group of Dementors guarded the Manor either. True, they would not attack any of them unless the Dark Lord commanded it, but every discomfort, every bad thing, was made to feel worse because of them.

Hence, his irritation at the lackey that had met him at the edge of the property was also made to feel ten times worse, as was that man's anxiety.

"But, Sir," he prattled on about something involving what had been happening in the Manor. How the Dark Lord continued to tolerate someone like him this close to the Manor, Antonin would never know. "The circumstances are unusual. The practitioners behave oddly most of the day, the servants are called for the most peculiar of services daily... And last week, one of the Thestrals vanished."

Antonin finally had had enough, as they finally entered the staircase that led both to the upper levels of the Manor, where some of the servants and most of the Death Eaters too well known to go out in public (like Antonin himself, as well as his friends Evan Rosier and Gregory Flint, and most of the other non-vampires not in the ranks that didn't have their own residence) resided, and to the catacombs below, where the Dark Lord had set up his lair. He turned on the weakling of a servant, his wand in hand.

"Well, you just ensure the servants keep their mouths shut." he said calmly. "Or I promise you-"

His threat was interrupted by a loud scream from below. Likely Randolph torturing another muggle into insanity, or the Dark Lord punishing another for the Pyrrhic victory at the Ministry. True, they had accomplished their goal and practically eliminated the ministry's opposition short-term, but it had cost them far too many people, half of the non-halfbreeds to be precise, and the survivors had suffered from the Cruciatus curse on a daily basis. In any event, the scream helped empower his threat, for the servant immediately whitened in fear.

"they will vanish as well," he finally said, before dropping his coat into the servant's hands so they could be cleaned and dried. True, a spell could have done that in seconds. But the man's wand had been confiscated upon his capture and given to one of the Werewolves, and it was quite fun to see such former upstanding members of society so humiliated - lowered to the rank of a mere house elf where they formerly held prominent positions in important businesses and social circles.

Too bad they were so openly supportive of Muggles and Muggleborns being included in Magical society. They could've been useful.

Antonin walked down the stairs, heading deeper into the 'Lair of the Serpent', as most of the Death Eaters called the spacious catacombs beneath the Manor. From here, all the work was done. The potions were prepared in the labs below the Eastern Wing. The injured were healed up in the Western Tombs, and if they were too heavily wounded to be helped, buried in the coffins and put away immediately. People could easily depart for a mission from the Southern parts, from which one could fly out through a tunnel with their brooms, or they could Portkey out from and return to that room, as that was the only area in a ten-mile radius where Portkeys worked, or they could walk out through the Manor proper, as Antonin was doing right now.

And of course there were the Centre and Northern parts of the Catacombs which held the training area for new recruits and the Dark Lord's personal chambers respectively - the latter of which Antonin was headed for right now.

He stalked into the training room and immediately walked along the side. He didn't wish to be hit by a stray curse from a newbie, as the Carrow Siblings often suffered. Though he had to admit, the skills on display were quite impressive. Some of them were so effective it wasn't rare they accidentally killed their partner in practice. Which was something with which Antonin was familiar: he himself had accidentally killed one a day before the attack on the ministry, and there was a monthly betting pool how many Fenrir Greyback would kill thusly before the month was up. Antonin was fortunate to win last June, which had earned him 259 Galleons and 12 Sickles.

Not that it was such a large problem. They could all be turned into Inferi or food for the Werewolves during the full moon, and with Malfoy, Nott, Selwyn, Lestrange, and other prominent families continuously recruiting across the continent they would have many more with them, aside from the hundreds of Purebloods, Werwolves, Vampires, Giants, Dementors, and Outcast Goblins already in their ranks.

At the moment, the training area was heavily occupied. Gibbon and a recruit - Jugson, Antonin believed he was called, were in a duel off to the side, as were the Carrow siblings against Thorfinn Rowle and Antioch Travers. Gabriel Pucey, Benedict Warrington, Pyrites, and a new foreigner recruit named Dragomir Despard were watching Igor Karkaroff duel Fenrir Greyback, and the morons Rudolphus and Rabastan were on the ground, a triumphant Bellatrix Black standing over them, keeping them under the Cruciatus for their failure as she cackled a laugh.

Antonin walked around them and headed for the northern section. He briefly ducked, missing a pair of poisoned blades thrown at Greyback by inches, and they hit and stuck into the wall instead. He tossed a Cruciatus in Karkaroff's direction in retaliation, though he didn't care if he hit or not. It kept them on their toes, and they couldn't retaliate with him so close to the Dark Lord's quarters. And judging by the lack of screaming he'd missed anyway.

He entered the rooms, and was once more briefly awed by the wealth on display here. He'd seen it many times before, but to see so much opulence had a tendency to take one's breath away.

The people that were truly important to the Dark Lord came here: the wealthy, the influential, the powerful, the talented... If you had true potential and individual use to him, the Dark Lord summoned you here, in the massive hollowed out rooms below. People like Evan Rosier's father Cadmus, Claudius Nott, Abraxus Malfoy, Corban Yaxley and his father Alexander, Reginald Lestrange and the blood adopted bastard son Randolph. Bellatrix and Fenrir had been granted audiences here on occasion, too, as had Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott.

Antonin bowed, as he entered the Throne Room. Immediately he felt his spirit drop, as the four Dementors that guarded the Dark Lord swooped closer to him to inspect him. They removed themselves swiftly, however, as the Dark Lord commanded them away.

"You may rise, Antonin," the Dark Lord spoke, and Antonin obeyed.

Upon the Dark Lord beckoning him forth, Antonin walked over so he stood almost right in front of the throne.

"Tell me, Antonin..." the Dark Lord started. "What is the current mood amongst the people in the magical world?"

"They are afraid, my Lord," Antonin answered. "Most of the people had relatives or loved ones that had been killed in the attack on the ministry. Only a few dare resist us."

"Do you have names?" The Dark Lord asked, as the locket around his neck glinted in the faint light that fell on his body. The shadow obscured most of his face, giving him a frightening appearance.

"Baron Arcturus Black, and Lords Hyperion Greengrass and Hector Longbottom openly resist us, as I fought two of them in the attack and spotted the third. I suspect the Potter, Bones, and Shackelbolt families also would fight you, as would Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody. There are more, but I do not yet know their names. I suggest you ask the elder Lestrange about the Great Alliance, as its members, Baron Black and Longbottom among them, tend to support one another in a time of need, and that list includes quite a few prominent families."

The Dark Lord visibly mulled this over, as Antonin finally waited for a response. Finally, he rose. "Can you tell me about the rumours of a second Potter and Longbottom being enrolled into Hogwarts, Antonin?"

Antonin frowned. He didn't keep a particular eye out to the happenings inside Hogwarts. The children of Death Eaters were usually sufficient for that. But word of new additions to the Potter and Longbottom families hadn't reached him yet. "If they exist, I haven't heard of them yet, my Lord," he answered honestly. "May I inquire why you wish to know this, considering your previous lack of interest in their families after Lestrange advised against recruiting them?

"You may, Antonin," the Dark Lord answered, starting to pace around Antonin. "For the answer to that is very simple, though it requires some explanation. Our goal is to control Magical Britain, and inevitably the entire Wizarding world. In order to do that, what would you focus on first?"

"I would do as you would, my Lord," Antonin answered after a moment of consideration. "While there are other methods, I believe it would be best, and fastest, to gain control of the population of Magical Britain, either directly through their admiration, or indirectly through their fear of me."

"Exactly!" The Dark Lord said enthusiastically. "Control the population. And it so happens that aside from a handful of exceptions, magical people lack sense, and are thus very fickle." The Dark Lord paused, looking at his own wand. Antonin immediately tensed: it has always been that when the Dark Lord draws his wand, he usually curses someone: the Killing Curse if he was in a merciful mood; Cruciatus or other equally painful curses if he wasn't. But to his surprise, the Dark Lord merely looked at it as he continued speaking.

"And fickle people usually believe what you tell them. Especially wizards and witches, who, as noted, often lack common sense. They never check the facts; they never ask good questions; they never think things they hear through. Tell them our way of life is menaced by the eradication of our traditions, and they will not wonder why. Tell them you could save them, and they will never ask: from what, from whom?"

"And what if someone does ask?" Antonin asked, unsure where the Dark Lord was going with this.

"Then you just say Tyranny, Oppression, Muggleborns... Give them vague bogeymen and phantom threats that require no analysis," the Dark Lord answered. "And you never specify. Then they look the other way when reality is right in front of them." The Dark Lord let out a menacing laugh. "It's a conjuring trick, the key of which is distraction, getting them to watch your hands with an Exploding Snap deck while you cast Imperio at them with your other."

The Dark Lord finally stopped fidgeting with his wand, and lowered his hood so Antonin could see him fully. It wasn't a pretty sight, even if he hadn't changed that much yet because of the various rituals he frequently underwent. He still had his young, charismatic face which he seduced the population with, as well as his carefully styled hair, but there were notable differences. The slowly flattening nose, paling skin, and reddening eyes were clear give-aways, though the pulsing veins on his forehead were a clue as well. But he still seemed mostly like the young man that had approached him in the duelling circuit in Belarus so long ago.

"That is what we are doing, Antonin. The Magical world needs to be eradicated of vermin like mudbloods, blood traitors, and half-breeds. But only we are willing to go far enough to do so. So while we strike from the shadows like terrorists, and sow fear among the population about where we will attack and cull the people next, we shall create the ultimate weapon for achieving our goals. The ultimate weapon to give me, to give us, absolute rule of the Magical World."

The Dark Lord, for the first time, sighed in sadness. "But of course, there are those that do not fall for the shared illusion. The single-minded people do not step into that trap, and keep watching too closely. Single-minded people are dangerous, Antonin. And they either work for me-"

The Dark Lord whirled around, and cast a Crucio at the section on the wall behind him, which had been covered in shadow since his arrival. Antonin ignored the fact that in the brief flash of light from the curse he recognised Randolph Lestrange, his fellow commander of the attack force that devastated the Ministry, chained up and flayed to the bone on his legs but still alive, hanging from the wall for the Dark Lord to toy with.

"or they do not work at all," the Dark Lord finished.

"And Potter and Longbottom are such single-minded individuals," Antonin said, realising at last where the Dark Lord was going with this speech.

Lord Voldemort smiled. "Indeed, Antonin. Lord and Baron Potter. Baron Black. Lord and Lady Bones. Lord Longbottom. Lord Greengrass. All of them are single-minded individuals. But one thing they value above all else is family. With Bellatrix Black as an inducted member, and fifth year Cyrus Greengrass as a willing initiate, the Black and Greengrass families will be covered. But for the others, it is just as essential to control their children, either by the Imperius, or by keeping them hostage."

Antonin nodded. "And since Hogwarts is too heavily secured for us to gain access to them there, you want me to abduct them, as well as one of the Bones children, either during a Hogsmeade weekend or during one of the holidays."

"My my, and Lucius and Abraxus consider you nothing but a dull-witted brute," the Dark Lord laughed. "Well, everyone has to be wrong at least once. Yes, that will be your mission. I want them in this manor by the end of May 1976 at the latest, but the sooner, the better. Take whatever men, Portkeys, spare wands, and other resources you require, and complete your mission."

"Yes, my Lord," Antonin bowed, and turned to exit the room.

"Oh, and Antonin." the Dark Lord called, making the duelling champion freeze in his step. Fearing retribution if he did, he didn't turn around. "We lost a significant number of forces at the Ministry, despite the mission's success. A punishment for such a failure is usually torture until death. You were lucky I consider this the failing of Reginald's blood-adopted mudblood of a son, rather than yours."

Antonin nodded. "I will not fail you, my Lord," he swore. "I will either get you a Potter, Longbottom, and Bones, or die trying."

"Good," the Dark Lord said. "Go now. My sources in Hogwarts will get you the information on the new children within the week. Prepare."

Antonin nodded, and finally left the Throne Room and the Dark Lord, ignoring the screams of his one-time friend being tortured by the Dark Lord physically, and the Dementors mentally and emotionally as he was forced to relive his worst memories over and over without anything positive to counter it with before it was sucked away by the Dementors.

In the Dark Lord's presence after a significant failure, even a Dementor's Kiss will seem like a mercy killing.

I will not fail my mission.

I cannot.


Room of Requirement, Seventh Floor, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland

September 3rd

The morning of the first meeting, Harry sighed nervously, pacing the room for the umpteenth time as he awaited the arrival of the newly dubbed Defence Association. Hermione had prepared the necessary books, while Ron and Neville were preparing the mats. True, the room had provided them, but they hadn't been specific enough in where they were supposed to end up, and needed to be rearranged. Ginny and Luna were on lookout, so people would know where to enter.

In the end, the group that Harry would directly teach had been kept relatively small. These students, in turn, could tutor the rest of their houses in the techniques Harry taught, working like a snowball and spreading from student to student, until by the end of a week in which a session took place, everyone would be up to date on what was taught in that session. He and the others couldn't teach nearly four hundred students on their own, so aside from their close friends they would teach a number of 'Representatives' of each house, including the Quidditch Captains, Head Boy and Girl (Amos Diggory and Amelia Bones, Harry had been surprised to recognise), as well as the six prefects of each house. Finally, there were a number of people the Marauders trusted, like Dorcas Meadowes of Ravenclaw, or who needed to be repaid a favour, as in Harry's case Severus Snape. Harry felt that, since Snape was effectively tutoring him in Potions, the least he could do was return the favour and teach Snape a bit more of defence. And he hadn't given in to the Marauders' protests, since they had put Harry in charge of who could come and who couldn't, something they were learning to regret.

The number of students in total, aside from the original six members of the DA, included the entirety of fifth year Gryffindor, Frank and Alice, and Hestia Jones of Seventh year, all the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl, Snape, Cyrus Greengrass, Regulus Black, and Roxanne Sterling of Slytherin, Dorcas Meadowes, Benjy Fenwick, and (to Luna's great delight when she learned) Xenophilius Lovegood and Pandora Celeste McGregor of Ravenclaw, the future Runes and Arithmancy teachers Bathsheda Babbling and Septima Vector, as well as Mafalda Hopkirk and Caradoc Dearborn of Hufflepuff. They were rounded out by the Quidditch captains Michelle Davies, Edgar Bones, and Graham Mulciber.

When he'd gotten the list of people who wanted to sign up at the end of the day, Harry decided who could join the DA, while Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna would follow his lead mostly. Aside from the obvious choices like the Gryffindor students, Prefects, Quidditch captains and Head Students, he'd chosen mainly from future Order of the Phoenix members, relatives (in Luna's case), people he knew (like the future teachers), because he heard from Professors they were talented and sure to do well and follow instruction (in the case of Mafalda Hopkirk, Roxanne Sterling, and Cyrus Greengrass), or because he felt he should give them at least one chance (every Slytherin student present). That was an admittedly biased selection process, but Harry felt these people deserved to know.

They finished the preparations for the DA in the usual way: Hermione charmed galleons in a similar way as when they first did it; they would again write their names on a charmed bit of parchment to protect them from teacher interference; and since Hermione and Luna could perform the Charm, a Fidelius on not only the Room of Requirement itself, but also the lessons in general, with Harry being the secret keeper of both of them. That way, no one could rat them out, especially since Harry himself always had a tight hand on the only slip of Parchment that contained both secrets as he showed it to the accepted members.

Finally the door opened, and the first students arrived. To his surprise, they weren't the Marauders or any of his Dorm Mates. Instead, they were Lily talking with Marlene, Mary, Pandora McGregor, and Roxanne Sterling. And all of them were talking in quite a friendly manner.

Harry should have realised that with her friendly disposition, his mother's circle of friends wouldn't be restricted to Gryffindor alone.

They were closely followed by Cyrus Greengrass, Graham Mulciber, Severus Snape, and Regulus Black, who were deeply engrossed in their own conversation as they entered.

After that, everyone else slowly trickled in in pairs, or in the case of the Marauders as a foursome literally stuck together by the shoulder as the result of a failed prank. The last arriving person, Xenophilius, closed the door behind him as Luna and Ginny walked in with him.

"That is everyone?" Harry asked. When Hermione nodded, he stepped a bit more to the forefront. "Alright, everyone. Thank you for coming. I won't bore you with a long speech: you're all hear to learn proper Defence against the Dark Arts instead of whatever combination of Potions and Defence Professor Clarke insists upon. Unless any of you have any questions - yes, Miss Sterling?" Harry asked.

"What does DA stand for, exactly? It was mentioned on the paper you made me read, but I have no idea what it means."

"Defence Association," Ron answered. "That was the code name we had for it back when we were tutored on our journey from... What was it, Hermione? I always mix up the countries of the last three years."

"From southern Portugal to eastern Germany." Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry smirked; they did the cover of their tutelage on the continent while travelling act very well.

"Yeah, that," Ron said sheepishly. "Anyway, we thought that since the six of us are the only ones of the group still together, we'd name it like that. Anything else?"

"What type of curses will we be learning?" Amelia Bones asked. "While our green-tied classmates might not object, I do not fancy myself being the target of a dark curse during your sessions."

"For now, we only focus on the Hogwarts curriculum," Harry answered. "We might get to cast spells of a darker nature, but that's only for when we learn spell identification, and never during our practice rounds together. Agreed?" Everyone nodded, though some did so reluctantly. "Any other questions?"

"What spells will we be starting with?" Benjy asked excitedly.

"Well, since your last several teachers weren't up to par, I thought we should stick to revision for the next few weeks. The Expelliarmus and Protego will be a good starting point."

There were multiple groans all around, as well as a number of protests. Audrey was one of the loudest protestors. "Really, Potter? Most of the teachers were rubbish, but Clarke taught us at least that much."

"Expelliarmus has saved my life multiple times, Ramirez," he returned, before letting a smile slip through and let his wand drop into his hand. Hermione and the others, as they had discussed they would do should this happen, stepped back to give Harry a bit more space. "But if you feel so confident, feel free to disarm me."

Everyone briefly looked at Harry in surprise, before a determined Audrey stepped forward. She grabbed her own wand from her back pocket, and didn't wait for the crowd to disperse as she launchedthe curse at Harry.

As he expected, it wasn't as good as Audrey had proclaimed: it was underpowered, missed by half a meter, she made an exaggerated movement and said the incantation out loud, the latter two of which would have tipped him off even if he didn't know what she was doing. Frustrated, she cast it again, and again. Each time she missed him, either to his side or going over his head. By the sixth time he decided to give the girl a break, and cast one of his own, silently and with a quick, controlled movement, as Charlus had taught him. He now thanked the man for insisting that they all learn to cast silently, as the girl was quite surprised when the spell hit her. And Harry got a shocking testament of his own power: not only was her wand knocked out of her hand and sent flying into Harry's, but she was send falling backwards to land at Joshua's feet.

"In a duel," he started to lecture them. "It doesn't solely depend on how many spells you know, what powerful spells you know, or how powerful you really are, though admittedly each of the three is an excellent advantage to have. But most often it comes down to who can fire the first spell at their opponent. And since most wizards and witches consider martial arts to be too 'muggle' and beneath them, and aren't capable of holding their own wandlessly, most arepretty much harmless when they're disarmed. And even if they aren't, a good Stupefy or Incarcerous will usually put them out of the fight for a while." He handed Audrey her wand back, which she took while blushing furiously, properly chastised about her arrogance.

"Which is another thing we'll be doing. To ensure we won't be the same as most wizards, we'll all be learning martial arts together, so we're not harmless just because a Death Eater was clever enough to snap our wands."

"Will we be learning the Patronus?" Septima Vector asked.

"Yes, but there isn't much instruction to it," Harry said. "The incantation, in case you didn't hear it yesterday, is Expecto Patronum, and there is no particular wand motion. There are three things that make it difficult, however. One: you have to be quite powerful to even manage a partial Patronus, and even more so to manage a corporeal one. Two: you need a happy memory. One that makes you the happiest, most satisfied person in the world. And it isn't something as simple as getting your first broomstick or your Hogwarts letter. It can be the person you love the most." he gave a pointed look at Neville and Luna's parents, as well as Cyrus and Roxanne. "It can be your close friendship." He looked at the Marauders, as well as Ron and Hermione. "Or it can be a special event in your life. Whatever makes you the happiest in the world, you focus on that memory, and the emotion it evokes in you. Specifically, that emotion. That is what needs to fuel the memory."

"And what's the third difficulty?" Vinnie asked.

"Simply the fact that you often only need to cast a Patronus near Dementors. And the fact Dementors feed themselves on the same kind of emotions and memories makes it twice as hard to cast the spell as if you were cast it in a friendly environment," Harry admitted. "I can speak from experience that it is a lot harder than it looks."

"Shame we can't bring a Dementor here and practice," Audrey said sarcastically, still a bit sour at being beaten so soundly.

"Actually, we might," Harry said. "My Boggart's a Dementor, so if one of you can capture one during the Christmas break we might beable to practice."

Everyone seemed excited at the prospect, but Harry brought their attention back to him. "But for now, we'll practice the Expelliarmus and Protego. One of you will cast it at the other, the other will try to either dodge or shield themselves. We take turns, and at the end of the hour rotate partners. If you have all got it pat at the end of the week, we will start practicing the Patronus at the end of each session from then on. So help each other out and start practicing, people."

Everyone's excitement immediately grew, as they all originally came to Harry because they wanted to learn defence and the Patronus. But they all partnered up fairly quickly. Harry had to interfere a number of times, as James and Sirius tried to partner with Snape or practice close to him, and even Harry could tell that would be a disaster. And some other Slytherins had problems with Gryffindors or others as well. In the end, Harry had some of them switch partners, so everyone was A: not near someone they had a heavy grudge with (one of them at one end of the room, the other at another), and B: not partnered with a friend whose movements and habits they wouldknow, and could thus easily counter. Amos Diggory and Amelia Bones later helped him, Hermione and the others keep order in the large group, as Harry could see they could cast the spells very well already. It wasn't long, actually, before Amelia and Amos suggested they partner up with one of the instructors themselves, so they could get their own practice in. Harry nodded in agreement, and partnered with Amelia Bones, while Luna practiced with Amos.

"Nice spell work, Potter," Bones admitted during their duelling. "Not many can manage a Patronus, or cast that accurately at a target. Had a lot of practice?"

"More than I'd like," Harry admitted. "You're pretty good yourself."

"Have to be," Bones answered, shielding herself successfully from his Expelliarmus. "I'm training to be an Auror. Following the example of my father and aunt."

"Deckard and Seraphina, right?" He asked, sending a nonverbal Expelliarmus. "Met them during the holiday when they came over." He ducked aside when one of her spells came too fast for him to shield. "Lovely people, if a bit... forward."

Bones chuckled, and Harry was surprised by that. The serious head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department he'd met at his trial didn't seem like the person to laugh, but she seemed much more alive when she did. He liked that.

"That's one way to describe my aunt," she said, stepping up her game by increasing the speed at which she cast. Harry deftly shielded against the spells, and started dodging to vary things a bit. With his newfound level of power he found he could hold a shield against a simple Expelliarmus for hours, so it wouldn't really be a challenge for him if he only hid behind a shield. "I swear, the next time I hear her say a sex joke I'll hex her."

"Never introduce her to Sirius, then. I've been able to keep those two from being properly introduced, but that might not last forever." he answered, finally finding an opening to retaliate. He sent another disarmer, and finally managed to hit her, sending her wand flying. But she managed to surprise him by wandlessly summoning her wand back before he could catch it.

"Impressive bit of wandless magic," he complimented. "And a good trick, too. I'll remember that one for next time."

"Thank you," Bones responded. Harry took a look around, and saw most of them had the spells down quite well, and most had managed to significantly improve their aim. From the brightness of some of the spells and shields he could see most of them still weren't perfect, but they were clearly all getting better at it.

"Alright, that's enough for now!" He called with the aid of a Sonorous. "Practice on your own until next session on Friday, and if you do well then, we'll focus on the Patronus for the remainder. See you at the next session."

Most of the others seemed excited about that prospect, and all left the room chattering with one another in excitement. Lily, Marlene, Roxanne, Mary, and Pandora all left as a group, as did the Marauders and the remainder of their Gryffindor year mates. Surprisingly, Frank, Alice, and the various Quidditch Captains were all cordial with one another as they left, including Xenophilius. The others all slowly trickled out as they prepared for classes for the day, until only Harry was left.

He smiled in contentment. This was how he'd like to finish Hogwarts: making a difference as he did last time. With the DA preparing people for the war, he could focus on his own training. He briefly wondered if he wasn't spreading himself too thin. After all, he had quite an extensive list of things to do. OWLs, Quidditch team practice, the DA, training himself for the war against Voldemort, analysing his memories for the Horcruxes alongside Fleamont, getting to know the family he could've had...

But he could handle it. If not, it wasn't that big a sacrifice to give up Quidditch, as it was the flying itself he loved, rather than the game. The DA could be delegated to Hermione and the others on short term until he could get things back on track, and Fleamont would understand if he had to search the memories on his own. And his training... As long as he could figure out some sort of trump card against that dark lord for their first encounter, he should be...

A book materialised in front of him, and Harry stumbled backwards. He didn't know he had phrased that as a request of the room. He moved over to pick it up, and swept the dust off the thick tome as he read the title. The composition of Magical Energy, by Ignotus Peverell. Notes added by Iolanthe Peverell. Curious, he opened the book and tried to read the first page. He'd barely laid eyes on the first word, though, when the door opened.

"Hey, you coming?" Harry was surprised to hear Amelia Bones ask from the doorway. "Classes start in twenty minutes, and you won't have a lot of time to pick up your stuff from Gryffindor tower, never mind getting breakfast."

"Coming, Bones!" he called, sealing his bag so no one could see the Tome he just put in. "Just finishing up the last of the clearing out."

"I was only checking," Bones reassured, and Harry saw her smile again. Yes, he had to admit he liked it. It didn't feel awkward, like it sometimes had with Cho. Cho was fraught with nerves and anguish over what had happened to Cedric, and sought consolation in Harry. But Bones smiled like she really wanted to know him for who he truly was, rather than using him just as a shoulder to cry on.

"And it's Amelia to you, Potter," she added after a moment.

Harry smiled back, as he exited the room at last, the key to his success in his bag. "In that case, I'd prefer it if you call me Harry."

Bones- no, Amelia widened her smile, and he held out his hand for shaking. "Friends?" he asked.

"Friends," she agreed, as they shook hands. Afterwards, her expression fell and became more like the elder woman who'd defended him in court so many years ago. "You better hurry, Harry. Your first transfiguration lesson starts quite soon."

Harry nodded, and they went separate ways in the corridor as he made a detour past Gryffindor tower to pick up his stuff for Transfiguration and Herbology. Combined with the fact the Great Hall was quite a bit of a walk from Gryffindor tower, he only had time to snatch a quick piece of toast and a sip of pumpkin juice before he had to run to catch up to class. He was one of the last to arrive, and he entered panting and heaving from the burst of sprinting he had to do. But he wasn't the last, fortunately. Vinnie and one of the Hufflepuffs seemed to be missing as well. He took the seat next to Ron, as his test at Gringotts indicated he would be one of the better ones at Transfiguration.

A loud explosion echoed outside, and everyone rose from their chairs in concern. Before anyone could move to either the windows or the exit, however, someone crashed into the room from the side window, landing and skidding to a halt in front of the teacher's desk while covered in soot, ash, and small shards of glass. Vinnie didn't even acknowledge his entrance. He just turned, repaired the window he'd just broken and cleaned the soot, ash, and glass that came off of him, before moving to sit next to Moliere. Harry didn't know what he was astounded by more: the fact a student literally was blasted into the classroom, or that the class and the student himself just shrugged it off so easily, as if it was a daily occurrence. He shared a shocked look with Ron.

"Don't look at me," Ron said, his voice also conveying his astonishment at what happened. "The guy just ran for it as soon as the DA ended, saying something about a potion he'd been preparing that needed a checkup."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it multiple times. Was it really that normal for a student to survive such an explosion and still resume classes without consulting Madam Pomfrey? Judging by the multiple galleons being exchanged between hands, it likely was.

The door opened, and Professor McGonagall strode in, briefly inspecting her desk and the windows before turning her attention to the class. "Another dramatic entrance I presume, Mr Santorini?"

"Isn't that the traditional start of the year, professor?" he returned cheekily.

"For that, we also need Moliere to nest in a large vase and make babies." Joshua added.

"The dirt is more comfortable in the pots," Moliere said indignantly, his French accent enhancd by his irritation. "And Madam Sprout has banned me from the greenhouses outside class time."

"Then you shouldn't have dug out half of her Devil's Snare specimen, Mr Moliere," McGonagall said sternly. Her expression softened afterwards as she looked at Harry and the new arrivals in turn.

"Mr Beckett, you and your friends claim to have all tutored together for the last five years. Can you tell me how one turns a rock into a dragon? And a demonstration as well, if you please."

"Eh, the Draconifors spell, professor," Ron answered, before pointing his wand. Harry eyed his movements carefully, not forgetting the second year transfiguration lessons that had gone wrong with Ron's broken wand. To his relief, though, the pebble McGonagall had provided turned into a miniature dragon that even let out a breath of fire before Ron returned it to its original shape.

"Excellent work, Mr Beckett!" McGonagall complimented, before turning her attention to Hermione. "Miss Bay, can you demonstrate how one turns a hedgehog into a pin cushion and back again?" Hermione nodded, and calmly got out her wand before turning it in front of her as McGonagall conjured a hedgehog for her. To his surprise, she managed the spell silently, both the original and the reversal. McGonagall's eyebrows rose, also clearly impressed.

"Ten point to Gryffindor for managing the spell silently." She spoke admiringly, making Hermione blush a bit. McGonagall finally turned her attention to Harry.

"One more question, and I think I will have sufficient faith in your education for you to continue along this class. Tell me, Mr Potter: what are the key differences between a Werewolf and a wolf Animagus?"

Harry swallowed. He'd asked that very same question once, when Remus had been over shortly after Christmas at Grimmauld Place and they'd had a moment of peace from all the cleaning and the tenseness at Arthur Weasley's attack. Harry had wanted to know more about how an Animagus worked so he could one day follow in his father's footsteps after all this was over. Remus and Sirius had freely given an entertaining lecture filled with barbs at one another about how an Animagus and Werewolf differed. Harry knew the answers by heart with how often he'd memorised it.

"Aside from the numerous anatomical differences, it primarily comes down to control," he started. "An Animagus can decide when he wants to turn into a wolf, whereas a Werewolf's transformation is always dictated by the full moon. And even in their animal forms, an Animagus will still mostly have an intact mind when he transforms, and can still see himself as the person he really is. A werewolf, unfortunately, cannot. He... for lack of a better term, the wolf takes over inside his head. The transformation tends to also be rougher, slower, and more painful."

Then, ignoring the approving look of Professor McGonagall and the sympathetic looks Hermione kept throwing Remus, he decided to throw in a last barb to lighten the mood - he couldn't resist. "And a Werewolf doesn't hog the showers as much as most Animagi."

"Damn right," Joshua said, immediately picking up where Harry left off, and McGonagall's approving look turned to one of exasperation as she rolled her eyes to look to the ceiling. "And Werewolves are also much neater, and at least have the decency to fold their socks."

Ron, Neville, and most of the Gryffindors were snickering with laughter at the open secret the Marauders managed to become Animagi, while the Marauders all started a heavy discussion about Werewolf versus Animagus traits.

"A werewolf also spends too much time reading," Sirius pointed out.

"And an Animagus doesn't steal all of my chocolate most of the time," Remus sighed, his exasperation almost matching McGonagall's.

"A Werewolf steals all the cherry bombs to wake up his friends," Vinnie said, and Moliere lost it, rolling on the floor in laughter.

"At least a Werewolf allows you to copy his homework," Remus retorted.

McGonagall sighed loudly, finally drawing the room's attention back to her. "While the last few were very amusing answers, they aren't the ones I was going for. Excellent explanation, Mr Potter."

Harry smiled, pleased he'd gotten enough of transfiguration right he didn't have to take extra lessons on that as well. Potions alone was enough for him.

Transfiguration was over in the blink of an eye, it seemed. Most of the class was spent rehearsing material from last year, and Harry had most of it down pat. Harry also got to see a bit of his father's talent at Transfiguration, and Harry saw it was not exaggerated. True, he could have gotten a clue when his father became the youngest Animagus in recorded history, but it was something else to see it so prominently on display. Every object McGonagall asked him to change, vanish, or conjure he did almost flawlessly on the first or second try, and very rarely required a third. Sirius wasn't that far behind, and also managed to change his rock into a miniature dragon without making any errors.

The surprise prodigy was Ron. When the boy really concentrated and wanted it (something that rarely happened in the classes in his own time, too distracted by talk of Quidditch or whatever nefarious plot happened that year) he could do it almost as masterfully and flawlessly as Harry's father, even if it took him a bit longer to manage. He still had to say the incantation aloud for most of the spells, but since almost everyone else also did (except for himself and Hermione), that didn't matter all that much.

All in all, classes went very well so far. Harry could only hope the rest of the year went the same way.


Good lord, that was long. Next up: First study session with Snape, Bellatrix and Narcissa meet Arcturus, the first full moon and animagus stuff, Lily starts a duel in the library with James, and Harry and Amelia discover the virtues of Portkeys.

Read and Review, if you would be so kind.

Au Revoir

Lucian.