Chapter 11: Shifting The Motivations

Robes billowed and swirled around them as they splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology, where they could hardly hear what Professor Sprout was saying over the hammering of raindrops hard as hailstones on the greenhouse roof. The afternoons Care of Magical Creatures lesson was to be relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor and, to their intense relief, Angelina had sought out her team at lunch to tell them that Quidditch practice was cancelled.

"Ah, man." Neville sighed, patting Ron's shoulder, "Tough luck, huh, Angeal?"

"Not so, Pup." Ron shot back lightly with a smirk, "Now we can have our first defense meeting."

"Oh yeah! Training!" Neville jumped Ron, "Angeal, you're the best, man!"

"Get off me! Heel! Down boy! HEEL!"

"They sure are excitable," Angelina commented as she and Harry turned from where the two were playing.

"Yes, but onto more important matters." Harry spoke quietly with a small smirk. "I've found us a place for our first… meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls. Can you tell Katie and Alicia?"

Angelina looked slightly taken back, as though she had been caught red-handed or something because he had brought up those two specifically. But then she finally gave a nod and her verbal response after schooling her features, "They'll learn of it posthaste."

While Angelina walked away and Harry attempted to return to his meal. What he found was Hermione offering him a golden goblet of pumpkin juice. He accepted the drink, watching her as she watched him.

"Can I help you, Hermione?" he asked suavely after a beat.

"You said you acquired this location from Dobby last night, correct?" he gave her an aloof look for her troubles.

"I recall making mention of Dobby, yes."

"And that Dobby found out about this place from…?" she arched a delicate eyebrow for him to reply.

"He did not say." Harry answered frankly in a slight purr. Hermione still looked skeptical, but asked no more.

Harry allowed the excitable Neville and reluctantly honor bound Ron to spend most of the day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Hog's Head. The two went around, telling each person where to meet that evening. Somewhat to Harry's disappointment, he had not seen hid nor hair of Draco in the day, but was informed by Ron that they had met only brief to pass one another in the corridors.

"He didn't even stop for a witty barb. It was weird, man." Neville informed as Ron nodded.

However, by the end of dinner they were confident that the news had been passed to every one of the twenty-five people who had turned up at the Hog's Head.

At half past seven Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, Ron clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand that Harry had graciously given to him. Fifth-years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but all three of them kept looking around nervously as they made their way along the seventh floor.

"Wait," Ron warned, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapping it with his wand and muttering, "I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good."

A map of Hogwarts flourished forth on the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labeled with names, showed where various people were.

"Filch is on the second floor," Hermione informed, looking over Ron's shoulder.

"And Mrs. Norris is on the fourth." Neville supplied.

"And Umbridge?" Harry asked without even looking for the woman nor caring where she could be found. He made no attempt to use caution or move with stealth.

Honestly, if Umbridge or Filch were to happen upon them, he would mostly just go about what he was doing anyway while blatantly displaying the middle finger to anyone who seemed to take issue with his actions.

"In her office," Neville replied, pointing at her dot. "Okay, lets rock!"

They moved briskly along the corridor to the place Dobby had described to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet.

"Okay," Harry said quietly for the purpose of keeping their meeting place exclusive. A moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch them. "Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need."

They did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-sized vase on its other side. Ron had peacefully closed up his eyes in concentration; Hermione was whispering something under her breath; Neville's fists were clenched as he screwed his eyes shut. Harry merely stared ahead of him, his mind locked on what he desired.

"What in the name—?!" Hermione called sharply, as they wheeled around after their third walk past.

A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Ron stared at it, looking slightly wary. Neville gawked at it, looking mightily impressed.

Harry reached out with his right hand before seizing the brass handle. He pulled open the door and led the way into the room.

It was exactly as they remembered.

"Feels like home," Ron said, closing his eyes peacefully to take in the emotionally joy of the scene which lay around him, "huh, Seph?"

"Indeed it truly does," Harry stared around, his eyes widened slightly whilst his fingers ran along the wall. Even the feel and smell of the reinforced metallic obstruction were as he remembered…

"Oh yeah!" Neville pumped a fist high into the air.

"…I had been hoping for something more… furbished…" Hermione spoke up as she glanced around the place.

While the room was spacious, lit with flood lights, the walls were barren of anything that other than metal construct and the sparse wire which had been uncased.

"I've missed this place a lot since awakening." Ron confessed.

"What is this place, if you don't mind my asking?" the three males looked back at Hermione as though her head had rolled from her shoulders.

"This is the Shin-Ra virtual reality training room." Ron informed her.

Hermione blinked owlishly at him, staring unabashed at her red-haired companion.

"This place can be turned into any place we want it to be just by scrolling through " Neville looked down at his feet. Nothing was there.

"Where are the phones?" Ron asked as Harry shrugged.

"Perhaps…" Harry rubbed his chin, "Little Whining!" he called out to the room, and all were amazed as it flickered once, twice, three times before they found themselves assaulted by the suburban breeze and dying rays of sunlight coming from off the setting horizon. A horizon formed by a far off row of houses which all looked the same.

"Whoa…!" Hermione gasped in surprise and shock, looking down as her shoes caught the asphalt beneath them.

Neville verbalized her astonishment in three subtle words, "This is AWESOME!"

"So it now responses verbally to us?" Ron asked as he came to stand next to Harry.

"It would seem so," Harry replied while Neville ran around and Hermione took it all in from her solitary spot.

The bareness of trees. The finely kempt lawns. The vehicles docked at every house's driveway.

"We'll need something a little more practical if we want to keep the others around," Hermione said finally, looking back at Harry and Ron. "They're not like you three. They won't want to immediately jump into stabbing at each other with highly lethal swords."

"We should give them a demonstration, Angeal!" Neville shouted as he ran over to join the three. "Show them some of the really cool stuff we can do. That'll hook 'em! Start throwing fireballs and lightning at each other while sparring a bit."

"Hmm…" Ron rubbed his chin in thought, turning to Harry, "What do you think, Seph?"

"Well, I have been meaning to get the kinks from my shoulders." Harry's bland tone was lost on none, but it was easily ignored as he smirked like a predator who caught sight of its next prey, "A light warm-up would help with that."

"A warm-up, you say?" the voice startled them for a moment, before the air gave way to reveal Draco Malfoy standing before them, though his clothing was a shocker all its own.

He wore his blond hair wild and free. His long crimson leather duster was worn over a set of form-fitting black clothing, particularly his black short-sleeved turtleneck with the neck cuffed and dark trousers. Silver trimmed leather straps crossed over his shirted chest. Black boots adorned his feet while black shoulder guards protected his shoulders. One of his black gloved hands was wrapped tightly around the long sword whose name was Rapier. The red blade looked freshly polished as Draco continued to step forward until he was standing a few inches shorter than Ron and Harry, but even with Neville and Hermione.

"Ge-Genesis?" Ron sputtered in surprise, not having sensed his friend.

"Shocked, are we?" Draco's grin was malicious as he gazed upon the slightly surprised faces.

"We are, yet," Harry articulated with a small chuckle and shake of his head, "we should not."

"Right." Ron regained his solidarity by crossing his arms and standing in a firm position.

"Now about this warm-up?" Draco turned specifically to Harry, whose eyebrow arched delicately.

"And would you be one of—?" but Harry's question was cut short. In a flash Draco was upon him with his red blade arching downward in fashion to spit Harry in twain, but Harry summoned his Masamune from the otherworld, parrying against the crimson sword. They held there for a moment, blades grinding against one another and sparking as one tried to overpower the other.

CLANG!

Both swordsmen looked up from their locked gaze to see that a third, much larger blade, had joined their fray. Ron stood to the side of them, a smirk on his face as he towered beefily over the two.

"Neither of you take me lightly. I wanna see exactly what we've all been up to these last few months." Ron crowed, using his already mighty physical strength to break the stalemate started by Draco and Harry.

Draco once again focused his attention on Harry, blocking Ron's Buster Sword with a quick slash before hacking toward Harry, who did not shy away. Harry slapped away Draco's attack and turned with enough time to nimbly knock away Ron's sword.

The battle's tempo only increased whilst Hermione and Neville were stuck with being witnessed to the impressive display of swordsmanship.

"Whoa… I never knew Angeal was so powerful…" Neville muttered, not recalling such an impressive display from his final battle against his mentor.

"This is the power of First Class? Its unreal…" Hermione mumbled, her eyes wide with trepidation. "I can barely see them move, and they've only just begun to loosen up."

Draco's attacks were nimble and swift, but Harry easily blocked them all. His eyes glowed dimly as the ever present sunset loomed in the background.

"Is this the best you can do?" Harry challenged smoothly as he pushed back Draco to parry against Ron, who he needed two hands to deal with. The other's strength was well proven through the flexing of his arm muscles. It was only now that Harry realized that his friend's solid built was not only for show. Much like the days when Ron was Angeal, the strength was thrice that of what the bulging biceps showed to be true. But still, as he himself grew into the battle, Harry knocked Ron backwards as the glow in his eyes shone brighter after the exchange.

"All hail Sephiroth, huh?" Ron lowered his sword, a smirk once again on his face.

Old words, different times…

"I said it once, and I'll be plebian enough to repeat myself." Draco spoke hauntingly, "The world needs a NEW hero!" with that, Draco raised his hand over his sword and the runes along the blade's side were flooded with a crimson glow whilst Draco's misty grey eyes shone with an eerie grey glow like a literal storm were behind them.

Draco was not sure what alerted him after his dramatic declaration, but while he focused on filling his sword with power, it came at him in a flash.

The faint whoosh of a blade slicing through air. Reflex more than anything drove him to raise his sword a little higher in the half-second. A panicked gasp escaped him, or maybe it was a grunt of effort. All he knew was that in the second he was defending himself on instinct, the moment he came back to reality, he found himself eye to glowing green eye with Harry. The impact was awesome, Draco could admit. It jarred his entire body as the clash of metal reverberated across the street. It sent out a shockwave that made the very concrete beneath them buckle and crack under their feet.

"You always did talk too much," Harry said, surprising himself with the cold whisper, never mind Draco, who appeared visibly startled for the briefest of moments before regaining his arrogant composure. Draco held the block in spite of the increasing pressure against his own blade. A snarl of frustration escaped one of them, neither could tell, as their glowing eyes matched in intensity at their inability to push the other back. However, Draco could still feel the ground beneath him buckling from the strain.

"Interesting, Sephiroth, my old friend," Draco noted with a hint of a smirk. Harry relented unexpectedly, stepping back and lowering the one and only Masamune in a quick motion. "Or should I call you Harry? Which is it? Who are you now? The once born General or the thrice-damned Wizard? Heartless Angel or Golden Savior?"

Harry met his intense, confident stare with an assured and defiant gaze, lifting his chin. "I said you talk too much." he raised the sword in a double handed grip and met Draco's eye down the flat of the blade in an open threat, "Come, show me your strength."

"I'll make you sweat and bleed for its display." Draco promised as he adopted his stance. Slightly crouched, shifting his weight to balls of his feet and then immediately to his tiptoes as he launched toward the other. Harry deflected the initial blow with milliseconds to spare. The two gave no breathing room to follow; they were inhumanly fast, pressing each and every advantage that came.

However, their battle was short lived as a thundering force drove down at them with a fierce cry. The two broke apart, just in time for a blur of black and silver to descend from above and destroy where they had been seconds before.

"I SAID FOR NEITHER OF YOU TO TAKE ME LIGHTLY! I'M IN THIS BATTLE, TOO!" Ron bellowed, the only thing seen from him through the dust and debris were his bright blue illuminating eyes. With a single slash of his broadsword, Ron dispelled the obscuring cloud and revealed the crater he had crafted with his own bodily weight. Not giving either two time to think, Ron catapulted from the hole and swung at Harry, devastating force behind each slice. Spinning about, Ron made another three smoothly successive attacks at Draco in a blur. Draco and Harry wasted no time in parrying them all. The three-way battle was on, and none were tiring as they fought with great might.

Draco's pride.

Ron's honor.

And Harry's long suppressed lust for carnage.

All were being unleashed, and empowering their respective wielders.

On Ron's right was a home. Harry seemed to sense that his friend would break away from the fight. His next attack was a one-handed downward slash, an attempt to finish Ron while Draco was recovering from an upward-handed swing. But rather than blocking it, Ron darted right. With the Masamune's song ringing in his ears, he ran up toward the house and launched himself upward atop it. There he rested for the moment's respite while leaning against the chimney.

Harry glanced off toward his left, and saw that Draco had done much the same, staring down at Harry from atop the chimney of the familiar home. Harry smirked.

"How about a little fire, scarecrow?" Draco asked smugly. His gloved hand lit with flames dancing along the palm. Harry lashed out with his sword, tearing asunder every fireball that came his way. Then, charging his swing a little more, he produced a slash which went on arching from the blade and continuing toward Draco.

The move surprised everyone on the scene. Draco did not in react, so shocked was he that Harry had replicated techniques long ago on mere whim. The slash did not aim for Draco, however, but for the house itself. It carved the house in twain, cutting it diagonally and causing the top half to slide apart from the bottom. Draco leapt from the house and onto the street. He turned to which the house, and the one behind it, fall and crumble like a fleeting dream.

"Long have I wanted… the destruction of that residence…" Harry purred with great satisfaction.

"That was… Number Four…?" Ron muttered, his eyes stern as he recognized the significance of the building Harry had just torn to bricks and dust. Though Ron soon shook his head and resumed the battle with a war cry. There was no time to think about emotions now, this was the time to prove their honor.

Off in the opposite direction from the dueling trio, who were only dimly aware of their screech of metal and shimmering sparks, a pair of figures which the battles unfold as another looked on with an unreadable expression.

"I tried to tell you, Cloud… We're sorry you had to see it this way…" tall female one said while the other, shorter one simply watched their younger male friend.

"I'm leaving…" the sullen boy said, shagging shoulders as he left the room just as a vicious sideswipe sent from Harry sliced right through the spot Ron and Draco had been in milliseconds ago. There was an explosion of fire and steam, and a gust of wind which fluttered the long dark hair of the older girl. She turned back to the battle, a fierce scowl on her face while the younger girl went after their saddened friend.

"I will make you suffer, Sephiroth," her fists clenched at her sides as she spat out her words, "That, I promise."

A chunk of chimney was sent flying his way courtesy of Ron, but it did nothing to impede Harry. In his free-run across the war torn neighborhood, Harry spun and whipped his sword out at the oncoming object in a reverse-grip, finely slicing through it even as he skidded to a stop in front Draco, switching his grip on the sword and combating the blond who seamlessly dodged and exchanged blows even when Ron jumped into the fray from his back. Rolling away from one that would have taken off a few of his precious blonde hairs, Draco moved to evade another swing from Ron, before finishing up on one knee, weapon raised in a double handed block. Harry did not disappoint. He slashed upward at Draco. Draco took the blow and allowed it to carry him into the skies above their three-man war. Harry and Ron both gave chase, but Draco was already filling his rapier with the power necessary to finish them both. This priceless confrontation had them all breathless but, incredibly, Draco knew that his colleagues shared in this incredible feeling. This feeling of breathing for the first time in what seemed ages.

The feeling of being truly alive once more.

Harry came up higher than the blond, his long sword already geared back with both hands for a strike of massive power. In Harry's eyes was a gleam, one not produced by awakened energies. It was something far more primal. Far more instinctual.

Far more bloodthirsty…

Drifting through the endless sky, Draco spun in air while avoiding the overhead swipe from Harry. The song of Masamune reverberated in his ear, but he ignored its sweet melody of death as he swung back in retaliation, forcing Harry to twist away as well. This gave Ron an advantage, coming up into the space between the two. He took them on in a physical hand-to-hand battle, striking out with his fists whilst his sword was on his back. Even while jabbing at Harry, Ron was still very much aware of Draco. He turned his back slightly while blocking a chop from Harry. This miniscule movement allowed him to clashes swords with Draco and drive the other's blade away from where it would have stabbed through the exposed side to his lower back.

Ron grasped Harry's arm and pushed him back a little, then he spun on Draco and used his momentum to punch the blond's sword, which should have been his face since that was what Ron had aimed for. Harry was upon them both again like a possessed beast. Draco was already moved speedily enough to his left by way of Ron's previous blow. Ron, however, was not so lucky as his arm was cut deeply by the lightning quick strike Harry snapped off. Blood gushed from the wound in a spurt of crimson red and continued to trickle from the fresh opening. Harry watched with a detached sort of perversion. He whipped his sword free of Ron's blood.

Dropping to the ground was easy for Draco and Harry as they landed in light crouches. Ron, however, fell from the darkened skies like a rock, pummeling into the destroyed ruins of the neighborhood they did battle in. The crash was heard clearly and loudly by all present in the mystical room. Dust and debris went up to signal Ron's landing.

"RON!" Hermione screamed, worried for his health. She ran to him, Neville outclassing her speed with his own as he leapt across the battlefield to his downed mentor.

"ANGEAL!" Neville shouted, and made his way toward the house Ron had crash landed within. It was no more than a pile of rubble now.

Harry gave his friend's uncertain condition a single concerned glance before he settled his luminescent emerald eyes on Draco once more. "Come." he beckoned forth, and Draco merely stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

The two stood in silence for a long pause with the only sounds being those of debris moving and jumbling while Hermione and Neville searched for Ron's body.

Finally, Draco glanced at the two searching and pushed forward from his spot of the scorched lawn he stood atop. His and Harry's swords collided and the two were at a forceful sword fight against one another. The rapid sword play lasted a while. Their clash overtaking any sounds of rescue Hermione and Neville were undoubtedly making. The clanging of their blades downplaying even the wind as it overtook the apocalyptic suburban setting.

"This battle is now a moot point, Harry." Draco lectured with deadpan visage, "Ron is wounded and needs our attention."

"Ron will be fine. I didn't cut off anything important. He'll live." Harry shot back in a velvety tone, so entertained by Draco's bland display of concerned was he.

Draco flipped away from Harry, now suddenly behind him! Harry ducked to avoid having his head taken off by Draco's decapitating slice. Harry turned around, still knelt down and aimed for the other's legs. Draco hopped over him and into the air to avoid the strike. Harry jumped back up and stood while the blond landed in his starting position on the burnt lawn. Neither would admit to such, but both could see the signs.

The two were becoming exhausted.

When Harry renewed the battle between them with a lunge at Draco, he had not expected a large amount of flames to flare up in his face. Draco was surrounded by the fire, and the only reason Harry had evaded being burnt to a crisp was having saw the sparks encircle Draco a second before they erupted into a raging sea of flames. This was just enough time for him to overshoot his distance as he leapt clear over the blond mage and end up atop the half standing home behind Draco. When the inferno cleared, Draco sprung from the smoke at Harry. Harry smirked.

"A neat trick you've learned. Where'd you get this power from, Clou— Dr-Draco?" Harry's eyes widened for a fraction of a second as images of such a battle flashed before his eyes. But he took no time to sulk in the bemusement of the images or the pain that was brought with them as it shot through his mind like a white hot knife through butter. No, he turned as he realized that Draco had teleported the short distance behind him.

He barely fixed his sword to be in the way of Draco's sneak attack from behind when more images assaulted him. Visions of death and fire. Of skyscrapers being driven to their knees before collapsing around him. Of darkened skies and dark feathers. And another fighter. A fighter bathed in light and even blonder than Draco before him.

Unfortunately, these images divided his focus and caused him to be viciously thrown down by his shirt's collar curtsey of Draco Malfoy. It did not stop there, however. While Harry went down, Draco slammed his boot into the green-eyed mage's stomach, and then the other boot into his left arm so he couldn't lift his sword. This was how Harry was sent crashing back into the earth, with Draco standing atop him like a superior prat.

Hitting the ground hard, the back of Harry's head crashed through the earth like a drill, digging out its own space between the dirt while the rest of his body followed. Before Harry could even regain his senses as the dust obscured his vision, he found a gleam of metal pointed at his nose.

"Will you concede now?" Draco asked loftily and coldly.

Harry said nothing as his ragged breath left him. Surviving the impact had left him drained, depleting him of whatever was left for him to continue the fight with. His instincts had been wielding his energies, and now he was with no power to fight forward with. All that remained with him was his fighting spirit, and as their bout wound down, the realization of what had transpired mere minutes ago left him without that as well.

"R-Ron!" Harry gasped, and knocked Draco aside while he scrambled out of the crater his defeated form had created.

Draco watched the glow leave Harry's eyes whilst Harry desperately made his way over to where Hermione and Neville had unearthed their third friend. Ron looked a little worst for wear, but was still breathing in his loosely conscious state.

"Oh, now you re-remember me, huh, b-bud…?" Ron asked shakily as he sat up from Hermione's lap. Neville was applying some chalky paste to Ron's open wound. It smelt foul, and looked like expired tooth paste to Harry as he skidded to a stop in front the three.

"Ron… I… We… You were supposed to-"

"Dodge? Yeah, ne-never really been very good at that." Ron gave a tired smile as he interrupted Harry's frantic speech. He knew what had occurred in the heat- and obvious lust- of the battle, so there was no need for them to dwell on it. "No need to w-worry. I'll be fine. Had worst scrapes than this."

Harry said nothing, but merely stared at Ron. He had done this to his friend, in what had started out as a friendly spar. He had escalated the fray. He had been driven by his own long beaten-down lust for conflict of such variety.

He had allowed himself to become Sephiroth once more…

"I'll be fine," Ron was saying to him, but Harry wasn't paying attention as his eyes widened from realization and his palms clamped down on the knees of his trousers, "I think this'll be a good example to teach the others a valuable lesson. Wizards stand in place too much when casting spells and defending anyway. They'll need to learn to mo-move around." Ron grunted as he got to his feet and rolled the shoulder with the injured arm. He winced, but only a little. It didn't hurt so bad. Not nearly as badly as he remembered his broken leg hurting when Sirius had dragged him into the Shrieking Shack two years ago.

"Room, execute Protocol: Knight Rising." Draco called out to room, which surprised the others by verbally responding.

"Yes, sir. Executing protocol." the voice was calm and evidently male. Sort of like a butler. The room shimmered before shattering to reveal a place worth of training young wizards and witches to defend themselves against the forces of darkness.

The room had become spacious, with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below it. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases and instead of chairs, the room had supplied them with rather large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that Neville and Harry both were sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody's office.

"It's the perfect room to practice Defense in," Ron declared shrugging his school robes back on, "and these will be good when we're practicing their Stunning spells." Ron added enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot before dropping down onto one with his legs folded.

"And just look at these books!" Hermione said excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. "A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions… The Dark Arts Outsmarted… Self-Defensive Spellwork… wow…" she looked around at Ron, her face glowing. Ron and Neville smiled as they saw that the presence of hundreds of books had finally convinced Hermione that they were doing the right thing.

"Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!" Hermione turned to gauge Harry's reaction.

But he was gone…

"Ha-Harry…?" her joyful expression fell. "Harry…"

"I'm over here, Hermione." Harry's rather subdued quiet voice crept into her ears like a jaguar on the prowl. Though there was the undertone of sadness to it, since she knew where it drew from, Hermione decided it was best not to address the fact with Ron himself having gotten over being slashed apart and whatnot.

Hermione looked over to what she assumed was the head of the room where Harry sat behind the only desk in a high back chair with a copy of "Jinxes for the Jinxed" from a place on the shelf.

"I cannot afford to distraction myself from our main objective with petty emotion." he said without preamble.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Harry looked up from his book. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and Dean had arrived.

"Whoa," Dean breathed, staring around with the others in deep impression. "What is this place?"

Harry began to explain, but before he had finished more people had arrived and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. Hermione carefully marked her page of 'Jinxes for the Jinxed' and set the book aside.

"Well then," Harry started smoothly. "This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've all obviously found it without much trouble."

"Yeah, that's gonna need fixing." Neville chuckled, but the way he was glancing at Harry periodically was like he expected the emerald-eyed wizard to strike them all dead. Ron elbowed him when he saw his student giving his best friend such fretful looks.

"Yeah, it's a good room," Cho showed little enthusiasm for being there, but several people more than made up for her lack of pep with their excited murmurings of their approval of the space.

"More than good, girlie. This is fucking great, yo!" Fred spoke up, lounging on his cushion with little a worry and a large grin.

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" Dean asked from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

"Dark detectors," Harry answered, stepping between the cushions to reach them. He deliberately, almost without noticing, took a path that steered clear of Ron. "Basically these devices all show when Dark wizards or an enemy is near. However, do not rely on them too much."

"Yes, because they can be fooled…" Draco stepped out of the dark corner he had been leaning into. He gazed around at the shocked and disgusted faces of Harry's merry little band. Some rose from their cushions, others gave cries of outrage.

All were angry about his presence.

"The hell's he doing here, Harry!"

"Malfoy, you're getting hexed if you don't get out and act like nothing was here!"

"Forget about letting him leave! Erase his bleeding memory!"

"Someone grab him!"

"Harry, stop him! He'll rat us out to Professor Umbridge!"

The uproar would have continued forever if Harry had not taken up a place beside Draco.

"Enough," he silenced them all with the one word and a raised hand. Cho and Colin looked especially distraught by his siding with Malfoy, but Harry could care less about the opinion of the two at the moment. "Here's our first lesson: Not everything is as it seems on the outside. Draco here will be our eyes and ears into the fouls of Umbridge. Should she even snatch up a fly near this room, he'll tell us where, when, and how."

None of the members seemed to agree with his decision, but also none would dare to tell him anything about it so earlier to his making it. They all muttered and glared and grit their teeth.

Harry, for a moment, stared into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none were recognizable. He turned his back on it.

"Harry," Ron called out. Harry looked his way, but Ron scowled as he noticed his friend was not meeting his gaze.

"Yes?" Harry inquired with a quirked brow.

"I think we ought to elect a leader," Hermione said promptly.

"What!?" Seamus exclaimed.

"Harry's the leader, or did you forget?" Dean asked in confusion as whispers began to break out.

"Harry's leader," Ginny said at once and aloud to quiet the others. She then cast a look at Hermione as though she were crazy for starting any controversy.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Hermione spoke calmly, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So "

"Harry for leader!" Seamus cheered before throwing his hands into the air. Dean immediately followed suit. Soon everybody put up their hand, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very half-heartedly.

"Thank you all for your support," Harry spoke uncaringly.

"And now we need a name!" Neville pumped a fist into the air from where he stood behind Ron and Hermione, who were seated in the rear atop cushions of their own. In front, Harry gave an almost inaudible groan.

Hermione nodded. Harry was sure she had put the idea in Neville's head. "Yes, good idea, Neville. A name would help in promoting a feeling of team spirit and unity. Don't you think, Harry?" now he was positive she had done it.

"Alright," he would not display his annoyance at the constant interruptions. Maybe they were doing this because they, as his closet friends, could see how anxious he was to simply end this first meeting and get to a place where he could be alone with his thoughts.

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Katie asked hopefully. Angelina gave her friend a dull look before crossing her arms under her breasts.

"We might as well name ourselves the Ministry for Magic are Morons Group."

"I like that one!" Fred grinned, "Lets be that one, yo."

"No, we need something covert and indiscriminate in case we're caught," Angelina sounded as though she spoke from experience. At least, that was how Harry found her tone to be. "Why not Thunderstorm? Earthquake? Maybe even Tornado."

"For all that, we might as well call the group Avalanche," Fred suggested with a wink at Angelina. Katie hiccuped at the girl's side, but Angelina gave nothing away as she stared dispassionately at Fred. Harry did not allow the exchange to go unnoticed by his gaze.

"I was thinking," Hermione started off, frowning at Fred, "more along the lines of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defense Association?" Susan supplied energetically while Cho and Colin were both sulking for one reason or another, "The D.A. for short. That way nobody knows what we're talking about."

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," Ginny nodded her agreement.

"Yeah, but let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army!" Seamus suggested, standing up with passion as he clenched a fist in front of himself, "Because, ya know, that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

"Why not do one better?" George's voice quieted all the whispering parties and mumbling groups. Even Seamus seemed deflated by the fact that George, who this year was becoming known as near-silent and reclusive compared to his old boisterous-self, had talked at all. "Why not be known for what all wizards fear more so than Voldemort? Why not be known for… progressive progress?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, crossed his arms. Even Hermione was curious as she leaned forward on her cushion. Harry's eyes narrowed and Draco's did as well. Both sensed an alternate motive to George's few words.

Cho, Colin, and Susan hung back on any comments they might have had. Angelina narrowed her gaze on her old friend while Katie seemed almost worried about George's next move.

"Umbridge said it best in her speech at the Opening Feast, remember? She said that progress for the sake of progress was to be discouraged. What were your thoughts on this… Hermione?" George slowly turned to Hermione, who squeaked at suddenly having the entire group's attention focused on her. This was why she couldn't hope to be the leader of such a gathering. She was terrible at these matters if she wasn't prepared in time beforehand.

"Well, my first thought was how vulgar of her. At the time I was… umm, hardly myself," Hermione cleared her throat before pressing on, "But now that I'm reflecting on her words without my initial astonishment, I'd have to say that I think they're incredibly foolish. Like Ginny said at the time, progress is only made when a flaw has been discovered. In fact, that is the very definition of progress and is the only time that it can be made."

"Correct," George gave one solitary nod, "Umbridge, and by extension; the Ministry itself, is trying to keep the status quo. No Voldemort, no questioning the peace, no questioning them. They're afraid of progress, and they scared of change in any direction. They fear the future."

"What does the future hold then, George?" Angelina spoke deliberately as she gave the twin a frosty glare.

"Technology." George spoke quietly, which in the hush that hung on his words was still quite loud and clear. "Muggle technology. Cars, planes, boats, gasoline—"

"Electricity, perhaps," Cho snapped heatedly, causing others to look at her and mutter curiously about her sudden dark mood. The long haired girl was throwing a fierce scowl at the twin.

"Yes! Especially electricity." George spoke forcefully at her, or more precisely, her tone. "Electricity represents the epitome of progress. The pulling of curtains that kept out the sun and released mankind from the clutches of darkness. It is, and has been for the past hundred years, the future. And wizards fear the future."

"You haven't changed a bit." Cho growled quietly, but George held her fiery gaze with one void of emotion.

"We, unlike the Ministry have no reason to fear progress nor the future. Right, Harry?" George turned his cool gaze to Harry's even cooler one. The silent maverick gave a nod of approval.

"He is right," Harry agreed in a pleased purr, "We should not shrink back from the uncertainty the future has. We should embrace that which they shun. After all, what is there better to stun and demoralize the enemy than to take on the name of something they all fear? Voldemort, the Ministry, Umbridge. What they all fear is breaking the mold. They fear to step into the new era. But rather, they'd like to keep things as they are now, with wizards using Light charms and Heating spells."

"Yeah! My mum hates light bulbs!" Seamus cried out with a fist pumped into the air.

"So does my Grammy! Go, electricity!" Neville cheered, and soon so were the others. Harry took notice of how the only ones not cheering and chanting 'electricity' were Angelina, Katie, Susan, Cho, Colin, Fred, George, Ginny, Draco, Hermione, and Ron.

All reborn individuals if Harry's theory was right.

Oh, he had been onto George's little game of stirring the passions from the start when he brought up the subject of progress. Now he had turned that passion to his own advantage by using it to easily see who would have an unusual reaction to it.

Now for the final nail in their proverbial coffin.

"Then its settled. This group of Defense practitioners will from here on be named… Shinra." Harry smirked as the looks of confusion came up all around. Though a few, namely Angelina and Cho, flashed looks of alarm.

"Huh? What?" more than a few were questioning. Harry held up his hands to silence their bemusement.

"Hear me out." Harry said as the others began to listen once more. "This will be the informal name of our group whilst outside the walls of this room. The group's full name shall be Shinra: the Electric Company. If caught, we will use the excuse of studying muggle technology in a way to make it safe and usable around magic."

"Are we actually going to be doing that?" Zacharias Smith asked with obvious discomfort.

"If you all wish it, then yes," Harry said with a light shrug as he personally didn't care much one way or the other, "But it's mostly for anti-interrogation purposes. If anyone catches onto us, we'll have a version of truth on our side. I mean, who'd really punish kids for staring at light bulbs if they wanted?"

There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at Harry's little joke, what with it being so rare that he showed his old sense of humor these days.

"All in favor of the name Shinra?" Hermione stood from her cushion to count hands, "That's a majority. The motion has been passed!"

She pinned the piece of parchment with all of their signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:

Shinra the Electric Company

"Right then," Harry began, when she had sat down again, "I believe that's been enough excitement for one day. Shall we disband for the day then?" at these words, all humor from moments ago was gone as the others groaned and protest. "I suppose you all wish to practice then? No matter, I was prepared for such a reaction anyway. First thing, Expelliarmus. You all should have at least heard mention of it by now. It's the Disarming Charm."

"That's too easy, Har!" Susan moaned, falling over her cushion like a bored child, "Something cool, Harry man! Teach us how to breathe fire!"

Harry saw that Susan's antics were more for her companions than anyone else. Colin rolled his eyes while Cho snorted, but both were smiling a little and even shared a chuckle at their friend's playful behavior.

"Yes, well, I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful—"

"Oh, please," Zacharias Smith snorted, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," Harry shared without zeal and a small shrug of casualness, "It saved my life in June. However, if you believe it beneath you… Leave." Harry's last word was spoke in a snap, one that chilled the room as Smith closed his mouth and the rest of the room was very quiet.

Smith did not move. Nor did anybody else.

"Actually, the Disarming Charm is a good place to start," Draco chimed in thoughtfully, reminding the group, to the disgust of many, that he was still there. "It's an easy spell that doesn't take much magic or prowess to perform. It will show us where everyone stands in technique and accuracy."

"Whatever, man. Let's just get to it!" Neville was excited at the thought of training, showing many that he had changed a great deal from last year's clumsy and awkward chubby Longbottom.

"Okay," Harry stood to full height as he stopped leaning against his desk at the head of the room, "Divide into pairs and begin practice."

It did not feel as odd as it should, to be the one delivering instructions and issuing orders as he did a lifetime ago. That was not to say it he did not feel an odd sensation run down his spine as he saw his words followed like they were law. Everybody got to their feet at once and divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partner-less.

"Oh come on, guys!" he whined as Ron chuckled from where he was standing with Hermione, "Why doesn't anyone want to partner with me?"

"Sorry mate, but last we checked, your wand work wasn't so good." Seamus supplied the answer from where he was with Dean.

"You can practice with Draco, Neville," Harry said, and Draco threw him a death glare for his troubles before reluctantly moving to stand opposite of Neville. Seeing now that everyone had a partner, Harry nodded. "On the count of three, everyone. One… two… three—"

The room was suddenly full of shouts of Expelliarmus. Wands flew in all directions; missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Draco was too quick, even for the new Neville. Draco made swift work of the former Fair, sending his wand spinning out of his hand where it hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf. From there Harry waved a hand and retrieved it with an unspoken Summoning charm.

Glancing around, he thought he had been right to suggest they practice the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on. Many people were not succeeding in disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backwards a few paces or wince as their feeble spell breezed over them.

"Expelliarmus!" Neville said after Harry had spelled the boy's wand back to him. And Harry, caught unawares by his thoughts, felt his wand fly out of his hand.

"Oh yeah! I did it! The Nev is back, baby!" Neville did a little happy dance as the others in the room gawked, "What'd you think of that, Har—"

Neville never got to finish his taunt as his wand was sent flying and mere seconds later himself followed. Harry's hand was held aloft as he pointed a single finger where Neville had once been. The room was silent and staring as Harry gazed down at the defeated Longbottom.

"A nice try, young Neville." Harry said with a chilling chuckle, "But do not grow overconfident. As I said before, this is Lesson One; not all is as it seems. Just because you disarm a wizard or any other combatant doesn't mean they do not have more tricks to rely upon. You of all people should know this best… little puppy."

Neville gave a groan as he got up from the ground, but was smiling none the less.

"Hmph, well I did do it anyways," Neville said in mock defense. "But at least my aim was good."

"Over here, Pup." Ron called out even as he laughed at his once-again student.

Harry moved off into the middle of the room with Draco a mere step behind him for every step he walked. Something very odd was happening to Zacharias Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. Harry did not have to look far to solve the mystery: Fred and Susan were several feet from Smith and taking it in turns to point their wands at his back.

"Well, at least they are able to do the disarming spell… and their aim, superb." Draco tossed his hair back while smirking at Smith's misfortune.

"Sorry, Harry, we just couldn't resist." Susan grinned as she saw they had caught his eye. Cho grabbed her, and George snatched up his brother.

Harry walked around the other pairs, having Draco correct those who were doing the spell wrong.

Ginny was teamed with Michael Corner. She was doing very well, whereas Michael was either very bad or unwilling to jinx her.

Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get in under his guard. Denis Creevey was enthusiastic but erratic and mainly responsible for all the books leaping off the shelves around them while his brother Colin seemed distracted as he did the same while trying hard not to look at Harry. Whenever Colin did look, he seemed quite upset by something. Luna Lovegood was simply efficient, however was acting patchy. Occasionally she sent Justin Finch-Fletchley's wand flipping out of his hand and into her own, at other times she merely caused his hair to stand on end before she finished him off.

"I like the way his hair looks when it stands on ends, sir. Is that a problem here?" Luna said when Harry approached her.

"Not at all," Harry smirked as Luna gave a rare smile. Since she had once again joined the Turks, her smiles were infrequent and scarce.

"Okay, enough," Harry said, but did not gander the immediate response he wanted. After a beat, Harry held his hands mere inches from one another. He clapped them together once, and it sounded as though thunder had descended from his palms and into the center of the room. The others were panicked, but seeing that Harry had used some kind of spell, they all fell quiet and paid him due attention while lowering their wands.

"That wasn't bad for a start," Harry complimented, though some saw that it wasn't a particularly good one on their part, "but we all know we've room for improvement." Zacharias Smith glared at him, as though Harry's comment had been directed especially at him. Now that he was getting into things, Harry found that they couldn't stop at only one practice. They needed a lot more.

"Let's try again."

He moved off around the room with Draco again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved.

He had allowed Draco to handle things at where Cho, Susan and the others like them were, avoiding the area since Colin looked to be near tears, and Cho was dueling Susan with fierce prowess. But after walking twice around every other area in the room, Harry felt he could no longer ignore them.

"Talented, isn't she?" Draco said as he watched Cho exchange partner with Dennis so she could practice with Colin, "She's using the one spell as though she were preparing to take on the likes of me."

"Or the likes of me," Harry said darkly as he saw the look of fiery anger in Cho's eyes while Colin looked as though he had lost a hero to idolize. "I'll take over here. You go help the others."

"You know your little club here doesn't like me much. I get glares as I try to show them the proper spell work." Draco said with a causal air.

"And?"

"Hate me or worship me, I don't much care. So long as all eyes fall on me when I shine in the radiance of the Goddess and her Gift." Draco said before dancing off with an air of vanity and self-importance. Harry merely scoffed before moving forward to Cho and Colin's pair.

"Oh no," Colin sucked in air as he was surprised when Harry appeared over Cho's shoulder, "Expelliarmious! I mean, Expellimellius! I'm oh, sorry, Cho!"

Cho Chang's sleeve had caught aflame; Cho said nothing as she extinguished it with her a wave of her wand and glared at Harry as though it was his fault.

"We're doing fine." Cho grit out, but when Harry arched an eyebrow at her, "You make him nervous. Don't you see that! He was doing all right before!" Cho told him.

"Well, my prolonged presence should cure him of his nerves. I know you can do it properly, I was watching from over there."

"Thanks, Se— Sir— Harry! I mean Harry! Thank you, Harry!" Colin didn't look up until he made a slip of the tongue, but then continued on as he stared wildly at Harry, speaking a bit louder than was needed.

Harry laughed, and Colin blushed under having the effect on him. Cho looked at them rather sourly and turned away, muttering about mistakes happening all over again.

"Don't mind her," Colin muttered, looking all the better for some reason with Harry talking to him. "She doesn't really want to be here, but me and Susan made her come." Colin looked like a deer caught in headlights for a moment before pressing on. "I mean, not that she doesn't like you! Its just that she feels I'll make the same mistakes I did last time I was around you."

"You mean the staring at me before running away?" Harry asked with a smirk while Colin's face resembled a tomato at the comment.

Lucky for Colin, he was saved from a response when Terry Boot's wand went whizzing past Harry's ear. It would have hit Alicia Spinnet hard in the nose if not for Angelina catching it beforehand.

"Well, my father's very supportive of any anti-Ministry action." Luna Lovegood said from just behind Harry; evidently she had been eavesdropping on his conversation while Justin Finch-Fletchley attempted to disentangle himself from the robes that had flown up over his head. "He's always saying he'd believe anything of Fudge; I mean, the number of goblins Fudge has had assassinated! And of course he uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible poisons, which he secretly feeds to anybody who disagrees with him. And then there's his Umgubular Slashkilter —"

"Playing up the crazy image a lot today, are we?" Harry asked as he turned to Luna, "I'd chastise you for the eavesdropping, but I can't seeing how I do it all the time."

"Don't ask," Harry said to Colin as he opened his mouth, looking puzzled. The younger boy followed the order, but still seemed confused.

"Harry dear," Hermione called from the other end of the room, "have you checked the time?"

He looked down at his watch and was shocked to see it was already ten past nine, which meant they needed to get back to their common rooms immediately or risk being caught by Filch for being out of bounds. He would have clapped his hands, but Neville had gotten a whistle from somewhere and blew it. Everybody stopped shouting "Expelliarmus" and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor.

"Well then, that was interesting. Very good for a first day's practice," Harry said with an obvious display of amusement, "but we've overrun our time together. Everyone to your exits of the room. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" Dean shouted out eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

"It looks like everyone likes it," Ron smiled as he snuck up on Harry. Harry cast a quick glance at his friend before returning his attention to the room.

Angelina, however, spoke quickly. "The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices!"

"Let's say next Wednesday night, then," Harry said, "we can decide on additional meetings from there. Ron, do a perimeter check."

"Gotcha," Ron nodded as he pulled out the Marauder's Map again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. They allowed the others out in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots anxiously to see that they returned safely to their dormitories: the Hufflepuffs to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens; the Ravenclaws to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Gryffindors along the corridor to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"That was really, really good, Harry!" Hermione said when finally it was just her, Harry, Neville, and Ron who were left. Fred, Ginny and George left and went back to the dungeons where they met with Snape's dot. Most likely to report back to the man on the first meeting of the Defense club. Draco went to the dungeons but broke off from them and was headed down the corridor which led to the Slytherin dorm under the lake.

"Yeah, it was." Ron said, though showed his enthusiasm less than Neville, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Calm down, Pup." Ron chuckled as they slipped out of the door and watched it melt back into stone behind them. "Harry, did you see? Hermione got me."

"Only once," Hermione professed with a small smile, "He disarmed me far more so."

"But still, I have years of rigid training under my belt. I don't know about you, but from the way you handle yourself in a duel, I don't think your past life was Solider or Turk. Nothing that required having to attack. You're really good with defensive and healing magic though, so you must have been something that involved that line of work. Maybe a battle healer, or a Shinra medic."

"Maybe…" Hermione said, but the conflicted look on her face said she wasn't sure about Ron's guess.

"Well, I got both of you a bunch of times!" Neville broke in, to which the two scoffed at him.

"You did not. You only got Hermione once, and me; never, Pup."

"I did not only get her once, I got her at least five time, and you three—" Neville turned to Harry, "It really was more then once, Seph."

"No, Neville, it wasn't and you know it," Hermione huffed, but was smiled.

"Well, Pup, if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand, then…" Ron smirked at Neville, enjoying the sight of his student's frustration.

They argued all the way back to the common room, but Harry was not listening to them. As they had walked, all he could think about was why he made Colin nervous and Cho irritated.

Who were they in the past? It was a mystery that needed solving.

Harry felt as though he were carrying some kind of talisman inside his chest over the following two weeks, a glowing pride now that he was not so bored with the everyday motions. It was this proactive activity that supported him through Umbridge's classes and even made it possible for him to blandly smile at the toady woman as he looked into her horrible bulging eyes. He and the new Shinra army were resisting her under her very nose, doing the very thing she and the Ministry most feared, and whenever he was supposed to be reading Wilbert Slinkhard's book during her lessons he dwelled instead on satisfying memories of their most recent meetings, remembering how Neville had successfully disarmed Hermione to prove he had done it. How Colin Creevey had mastered the Impediment Jinx after three meetings' effort with Harry standing over his shoulder. How Parvati Patil had produced such a good Reductor Curse that she had reduced the table carrying all the Sneakoscopes to dust.

He was finding it almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for the company meetings, as they had to accommodate three separate team's Quidditch practices, which were often rearranged due to bad weather conditions. But Harry was not sorry about this. He knew that it was better to keep the timing of their meetings unpredictable. If anyone was watching them, it would be hard to make out a pattern.

Because there was none.

Hermione soon devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case they needed to change it at short notice. After all, it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each of the members of the company a fake Galleon. Neville became very excited when he first saw the basket and was convinced she was actually giving out gold.

He was also convinced that she had been a leprechaun in her past life…

"Neville, stop it. That's enough, now listen." Hermione said, holding his hands together so he could stop trying to catch her and make her give him the pot of gold.

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding one up for examination. This was the end of their fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who made the coin. On these fake coins, however, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow heated and vibrate when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

"You cast the Protean Charm!" one of the members gasped, "But— that's seventh year magic!"

"Why are you so surprise?" Neville said, slinging an arm around Hermione before whispering, 'gotcha' "Hermione's amazing!"

"For the last time, Neville; I am not a leprechaun!" she said while removing his arm from her. Ron was sniggering behind them as he stood with Harry and Draco.

A blank silence greeted Hermione's words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.

"How come you're not in Ravenclaw?" Terry Boot demanded, staring at Hermione with something close to wonder. "What with brains like yours?"

"Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously considered putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting," Hermione said brightly, "but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So, does that mean we're using the Galleons?"

"What did the Sorting Hat say to you?" Harry asked.

"It said the only thing that outweighed my head… was my heart," Hermione muttered peacefully, looking for all the world like a loving new mother. Ron came up and embraced her from behind. They could have been parents if Neville ever got a hint and left them alone for too long.

Thankfully for Hogwarts, Neville's head was a block of wood when it came to such matters.

There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forward to collect one from the basket.

Harry smirked as he looked sideways at Draco.

"You know what these remind me of?" Draco quirked a brow at his ponderings.

"No, what?"

"The mobiles we had back in old Shinra. Or, in more recent reference; the tattoos the Death Eaters have scarred into their arms."

"How so?" Draco inquired.

"Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn. That's how they know when they must be at his side." Draco hummed in thought a bit at Harry's words.

"Interesting… He uses mass-effect scar-driven magic. But, Voldemort is a dullard compared to what Hermione has done here. This is a far more practical way of doing things," Draco said with a nod of approval.

"Well… yes," Hermione said quietly after overhearing them, "that is where I got the idea from. But, as you've noticed, I decided to engrave the information on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin. You'll have to forgive me for not having such a wild streak within me."

"Yes… I rather prefer your way," Harry said, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket. "Though I think the scars Death Eaters bear are rather nice compared to my own."

"Worry about the Galleons, not the scars for now, won't you Harry dear?" Hermione said peacefully as Harry chuckled.

"I suppose the only danger with these is that some of them might accidentally spend the coins." Neville said as he flipped his coin in the air and caught it several times.

"A fat chance of that happening." Ron said, smirking as he examined his own fake Galleon, "Minerva the Goddess knows I haven't got any real Galleons to confuse this with."

"Another thing to introduce to our meetings, then." Harry said as he quieted the others, "An order system, to say. Come the next few meetings, I'll see how far along everyone is, and rank them based upon that. The ranks have already been predetermined, but where you fall along them have not. Dismissed."

As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, their meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game; the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretense of sportsmanship, were determined to see their own side victorious. Harry realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match.

"Thanks, McGonagall!" Neville cheered, she had done him a favor as he had been lagging behind in homework in place of training with Ron and Draco whenever they could swing it.

"I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment," she said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron. She spoke again grimly, "I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won't you?"

"Yeah don't let Professor Greasy Hair touch the cup!" Neville cheered, and received a stern look for such disrespect of a teacher.

Snape was no less obviously partisan; he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.

"A little harmless excitement like hair-growth does not warrant my immediate attention," Snape said when Harry and Ron caught him alone in the corridor. He smirked, "However, it does make me laugh every time Bletchley sits and that farting noise comes out. Tell Miss Bones that her spell work is improving greatly in your little study group, and that next time she should accompany the sound with a subtle odor. After all, I must always stride for my students and the betterment of their academics."

"Don't go feeling any optimism, my friends." Draco announced in the halls for all to hear. "The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess. We of Slytherin shall be victorious this year."

"Don't count on it," Ron piped in with confidence as he slammed a fist to his heart, "We have honor on our side. Plus, we've not lost to your team yet."

Admittedly, Ron was still not performing to Wood's standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve. His greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence after he'd made a blunder; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more.

"Oh come on, Angeal, you shouldn't let that get you down." Neville said, but was not helping much.

On the other hand, Harry had seen Ron make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form; during one memorable practice he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goal hoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the center hoop at the other end. The rest of the team felt this save compared favorably with one made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski.

Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years.

The only thing really worrying Harry was how much Neville was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him before they even got on to the pitch. He was more rowdy about it than Ron was, and Ron was their target.

Harry, of course, had endured their snide comments for years now, so whispers of, "Hey, Scarface, I heard Warrington's sworn to knock you off your broom on Saturday", far from chilled his blood, especially this year. In fact, it made him laugh too much, which in turn had the effect of scaring everyone around him.

"Hardly a threat. Warrington's aim is quite pathetic. So much so that I'm more worried for whatever person happens to be next to me," Harry retorted, which made Ron and Hermione chuckle. Neville stuck his tongue out, wiping the smirk off Pansy Parkinson's face.

But Ron had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers and intimidation. In his former life he was praised and beloved by all who met him. Now, when Slytherins— some of them seventh-years and rougher looking than even he was— muttered as they passed in the corridors, "Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?" he didn't laugh, but wasn't too shaken by this as he was a changed man from last year, where he would have turned a delicate shade of green. However, when Draco imitated Ron dropping the Quaffle (which he did whenever they came within sight of each other on the pitch), Ron's ears glowed red and his hands shook so badly that he was likely to drop whatever he was holding at the time, too.

"You just need to believe in yourself," Hermione would whispered in his ear.

October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain. November was ushered into being with colds like frozen iron. Hard frosts every morning and icy draughts bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey. The mountains around Hogwarts were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragon skin gloves in the corridors between lessons.

The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. When Harry awoke he looked round at Ron's bed and saw him sitting bolt upright, his arms behind him for support as he stared, fixated, into space.

"What is it now, Angeal?" he asked, sitting up.

Ron nodded, but did not speak. Harry was reminded forcibly of the time Ron had accidentally put a Slug-vomiting Charm on himself; he looked just as pale and sweaty as he had done then, not to mention as reluctant to open his mouth.

"Come, we'll some acquire breakfast," Harry said while slipping sleekly out of bed.

The Great Hall was filling up fast when they arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As they passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise. Harry looked round and saw that, in addition to the usual green and silver scarves and hats, every one of them was wearing a silver badge in the shape of what seemed to be a crown. For some reason many of them waved at Ron, laughing uproariously.

Harry arched an eyebrow delicately at was written on the badges, and Ron made a disgusted face as he spied the offensive item when they walked by.

The two ex-warriors received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but instead of raising Ron's spirits, the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed on to the bench beside Hermione looking as though he were facing his final meal.

"Genesis… how could you…?" he said to himself in a croaky whisper.

"You were surprised just then?" Harry asked as he took a goblet of tea from Neville, "You must admit it was a nice touch. Demoralizing the enemy has always been a specialty of his. The only person it didn't work on was me."

"And me!" Neville piped in, sending Harry a cheeky smile.

"Oh, and please don't start with honor and fair play right now, love," Hermione spoke up from where she was sipping coffee from a transfigured mug, "It's too early in the morning for all that."

"Okay, then let's go with the obvious fact that my Quidditch skills are rubbish." Ron brokered softly with his head hanging a little off the table.

"Would you get a grip, yo!" Fred spat sternly, coming up behind his younger brother and smacking him in the back of the head while sitting between Ginny and George, "The way I see it, we're golden at the moment. That save you made with your foot the other day is proof 'nough of that."

"It was rather brilliant," George praised from where he spoke behind steeped hands and curled fingers. His coffee was steaming from the mug Hermione was nice enough to transform upon his and Fred's arrival.

"Exactly," Fred nodded before turning to the good witch, "so the only thing I'm worried about today is if the good voodoo doc will conjure me up a pack of smokes. Either that or some chalk candy."

"I find smoking distasteful, Fredrick." Hermione's voice was light, but steely as she peered over the rim of her mug. Everyone was silenced by the chilling breeze that seemed to pass from Hermione toward Fred, but they were all made hearty again when the brainy girl snapped her fingers and a packet of half-opened chalky sticks appeared with a dozen to the pack.

"Hallelujah, praise Magic!" Fred shouted with joy as he took up the pack, skillfully swiping one from the contents and stuffing the rest in a shirt pocket that weaved itself upon his person.

Ron turned a tortured face to Harry.

"You can claim that Genesis is an evil friend all you want, but I thought he'd at least start cutting me some slack this close to the game. Bloody hell, it's later today!"

Harry recovered quickly from his surprise, "Are you sure you remember Genesis correctly? The vain, arrogant, petty, trivial, egotistical, self-centered, poncish Genesis? Remember when we were rounding up survivors and chasing out the rebellion to the south?"

"Vaguely…" Ron was not sure where this was leading.

"Then please recall how when you suggested we make a game of reclaiming a town from the Wutai, he killed all the rebels and forcibly levitated the refugees to safety before declaring himself the winner despite me acquiring a larger number of saved people." Harry sipped lightly at his tea, while Ron winced at the memory.

"Ah, yeah. I definitely remember that. It was a good thing we didn't speak their native tongue. Their words sounded quite… colorful…"

"I spoke all the languages of the old times," Harry confessed with smirk, gazing at his old friend from over the rim of his golden goblet, "And trust me; they were."

"Good morning, Commanders." The others turned around to see where the dreamy yet resolute voice had come from behind them. Harry looked up: Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table, standing stock still in a basic military stance for the receiving of orders. Her hands were clasped behind her back and her legs were spread lightly as she kept her chin held high. All in all it appeared very abnormal, even for Luna as she was doing this in the Hogwarts uniform with a skirt on instead of the tight pants she had been wearing since her awaken into her past-self's memories. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing. Harry's quirked brow disappeared into his hairline when he looked up at her.

"Umm, Luna?" Neville asked, his voice timid and small.

"Yes, Zack." No one bothered to correct her as they were too busy staring.

"The hell is on your damn head, woman!?" Fred bellowed, standing up and slamming his hands to the table. McGonagall deducted points for his language and outburst, but that went over everyone's head.

Somehow, some way, Luna had managed to procure herself a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously around her head. The jaws, its pointy-looking teeth especially, were wrapped around her head as it appeared as though the lion had eaten her and she was poking her head out from where she was swallowed.

"Is it not obvious, Reno? I'm supporting the Gryffindor team, but more importantly; Commanders Hawley and Sephiroth." Luna stated flatly with a deadpan expression. She pointed unnecessarily at her hat.

"It's very festive, Luna dear," Hermione praised while still drinking her coffee. Of all of them, it was her and Harry that took this display the calmest.

"It even does this," with that she reached up at the crown of her hat and slipped her wand from her long sleeve. With a tap of the magical instrument to the hat, it opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.

"Now that is Awesome!" Neville was now on his feet, zipping around Luna like a five year-old shown fireworks for the first time.

"That's damn good charm work, that's what it is…" Ginny muttered in amazement that her colleague was showing such advanced mastery over a branch of magic.

"I knew Luna was weird, but I thought it stopped when she became Elena again…" Fred mumbled as he continued to gawk at the lion hat, which was now shaking its mane at a first-year Hufflepuff and Neville as they made faces at it.

"She doesn't want her cover blown outright," George said shortly with a glance at his twin brother, "Elena is a good agent."

Fred's grin after hearing that statement nearly cracked his face in half, and the glint in his eyes didn't help much either.

"Damn straight, bro… damn straight…"

"Very good, Luna. I'm sure it'll bring a large boast in morale for us," Harry commented quietly from where he sat. Luna nodded, turning away from Neville and the small first-year.

"I wanted to have it eating a serpent, but there wasn't any time, sir. I'll be more prepared for my spontaneous behaviors next time, I can assure you."

"Uhh, of course, Luna. And th-thank you." Ron said, a little unnerved at the near right angle Luna put herself in so she could bow formally to her superior officers. It was especially worrying with the hat that looked like it weighted more than she did.

"Good luck, Commander Hawley!" Luna said as parting words before drifting away to rejoin the Ravenclaws, who were buzzing around her for the chance to compare notes on the spell-weaving her hat required.

While the rest of the Great Hall had not quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat, Angelina made herself known by barging up to her teammates, accompanied by Katie and Alicia who flanked her on both sides. Alicia was, thankfully, rested to full eyebrow health by the grace of one Madam Pomfrey.

"When you're ready," Angelina said in a cool tone, "we'll head straight down to the pitch, and check out conditions and change."

"We'll be along shortly," Harry assured her, but then Ron stood.

"Don't slow the pace on my account. As a man of honor, I must face my demons, namely Genesis, head on and overcome them." Ron stood with a nervous gulp, only imagining what other horrors his demonic friend would have lying in wait, "I would be a disgrace if after all my preaching if I did not stick to my own credo."

"Spoken like the man I've come to tolerate," Harry smirked, even as Ron snatched the goblet of tea from his hand and sat it down on the far side away from him.

"Let's move, Seph. Time waits for no man." Ron said, even as he yanked Harry to his feet. The dark-haired boy gave his friend an irritated look, but complied none the less.

"Good luck, Ron," Hermione wished, standing on tiptoe and kissing him lightly on the lips before they turned to walk off, "And you too, Harry."

But Harry was not paying attention. Genesis was nowhere in sight for him to scowl at, but Harry still cast a dour glance at the crown-shaped badges as he and Ron began to walk passed the Slytherin table. And this time, he muttered the words etched on to them.

"Sir Ronald the Brave… how fetching…" Harry purred in half parts amusement and the other half stark bemusement. He knew it was meant to sting and hurt, but what manner of poison accompanied the words?

With his curiosity nagging at the back of his head, Harry and Ron steadfast made their way across the Entrance Hall, down the stone steps and out into the icy air.

The frosty grass crunched under their shoes as they strolled down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Harry and Ron conversed over these factors as they walked, even reminiscing over battle strategies they could have used back in the old days for such weather.

"A casual storm would not arose suspicion to the Wutai. It was that rebel group that watched the weather for subtle changes. And if that storm happened to shoot down lightning and devastate their weapons supply or their key buildings." Harry pointed out while Ron stroked his chin.

"I don't know. The Wutai were very rooted in their glorious past. They had customs and traditions that dealt with the weather. Plus, they were masters of Materia as well. It would have been child's play for them to make that surprise assault a moot point in the battle." Ron countered while Harry listened.

"Not in the first ten seconds, no." Harry smirked, "After all, lightning strikes quickly and it takes time for the human mind to catch up on what is occurring around its host."

"I concede the point then." Ron chuckled, "I thought your intention was to wipe them out in one strike by lightning barrage, but it seems you only want to do as much damage as possible before a true attack is implemented."

"Exactly," Harry hummed, enjoying the talks about devastating something without having to actually do it. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed war planning more so than the actual Wutai war itself.

Even though they had been a mere minute or so behind her, Angelina had changed already and was talking to the rest of the team when they entered the locker room. Harry and Ron pulled on their robes. Harry's eyebrow arched high when a blushing Alicia had to help Ron magically adjust his shirt in order for it to fit properly over his newly minted abs and pectorals. Ron's training must have been going exceedingly well over the last few weeks for such results. And now that he made note of it, Harry found that he could see how Neville's face had lost much of its roundness and his baby fat was gone completely.

After Alicia was done getting an eye full and Angelina barked for to just finish the shirt while it was on Ron's body, the team then sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle towards the pitch.

"Okay, I've only just found out the final line-up for Slytherin," Angelina spoke with command, consulting a piece of parchment. "Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual thick and burly gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two new Beaters are named Crabbe and Goyle. I don't know much about them—"

"We do," Harry and Ron groaned in unison.

"And they're no threat to us," Harry continued with a scoff, "We might as well be playing against two actual gorillas."

"But still be on the alert." Ron warned, crossing his arms over his broad chest, "They've got arm strength under all that fat."

"Well, from what little I've seen of them, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other," with her words, Angelina pocketed her parchment, "but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signs posted all around."

"Crabbe and Goyle are of the same mold," Harry assured her.

They could now hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators' stands.

Some people were singing, and with superior senses, Harry could hear every word of it. And glancing around at the rest of his team, it seemed the only ones unable to hear were Katie and Alicia.

"So they've made a song," Angelina's words were like cold fire, and the devoid look was back into her eyes. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle slightly as his precious sword, Masamune, sung to be released from its slumber in between worlds by the cold and sleek energy drifting slowly from the dark-skinned woman.

"It's time," she added in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. "C'mon everyone… good luck."

The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. A roar of sound greeted them in which Harry could still hear singing, though it was muffled mostly by the cheers and whistles.

The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley, with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Ron's eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.

Sir Ronald the Brave, it read. Ron scowled at it, but held his ground and showed Draco that he was not frightened like the blond wanted to believe. He stuck out his chest and braved the silent crusade against him.

"Captains, shake hands," Madam Hooch ordered since she was the referee. Angelina and Montague reached each other, and anyone with eyes could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. In fact, she barely seemed to pay him any attention until she gave his hand a light squeeze moments later, causing the boy to howl and whine. He had to call for Madam Hooch before Angelina released him from her death grip with a content smirk.

"Mount your brooms…" Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron streak off towards the goal hoops. Harry zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger with ease, and set off on a wide lap around the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same. Well, at least he was doing so in-between blowing kisses and flaunting his dashing good looks to the crowds of girls screaming for him.

"And it's Johnson— Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—"

"JORDAN!" McGonagall was quick upon his commentary this year.

"Ah, always a good commentary," Harry said to himself with a quiet laugh, "Always sticks to the game."

"— just a little fun fact, Professor! Adds a bit of interest— and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's— ouch— been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe… Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and— nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away—"

Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened to every word through the wind. A normal person would have been impeded with the wind whistling in their ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.

Wait… singing? Harry's face went from a pensive frown to a full-blown grin when he heard the song. Draco, that snarky bastard, actually deserved points on this one. Oh, ho, ho, it was indeed a good one.

"—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger— close call, Alicia— and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And Lee paused to listen much like Harry did. The song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

"Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, That's why Slytherins all sing: Weasley is our King."

"Weasley was born in a bin He always lets the Quaffle in Weasley will make sure we win Weasley is our King."

"—and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! - SHE SHOOTS - SHE - aaaah…"

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.

"Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He always lets the Quaffle in Weasley is our King."

James was gritting is teeth so hard that everyone would hear it. "That's bloody worst then anything the effing pulled on us."

Harry could not help himself: abandoning his search for the Snitch, he wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him.

"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—"

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

"Bravely Bold Sir Ronald, rode forth from Burrow! Even in all his bravery, he flinches at the sight of churros." the sea of green and silver sung, "Sir Ronald is afraid of nothing, but still can't protect a single ring! Bravely Bold Sir Ronald!"

"— so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Ron Weasley. He's the brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team— come on, Ron!"

But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins' end: after the churro comment, Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron's central hoop.

"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin— bad luck, Ron."

The Slytherins sang even louder:

"SIR RONALD IS NOT SCARED TO TRY, HE IS NOT FRIGHTENED TO DIE! BRAVE, BRAVE SIR RONALD!"

Harry could not stop his merriment, doubling over on his broom and practically laying on it. It was not helping Ron, whose face was now a bright red tomato in color.

"— and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch!" Lee Jordan cried valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it.

"BRAVE, BRAVE SIR RONALD! HE'LL MAKE SURE WE WIN! HE'LL GO TO ANY LENGTHS, TO ENSURE OUR VICTORY! BRAVE, BRAVE SIR RONALD!"

"Harry, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Angelina screeched, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. Rage filled every inch of her expression when she locked onto his laughter. "GET GOING, POTTER!"

Harry blinked while realizing that he had been stationary in midair for over a minute, watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch. Calming his amusement, Harry went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, staring around, trying to ignore the chorus now thundering through the stadium:

"BRAVELY BOLD SIR RONALD! NEVER SCARED TO FAIL! SIR RONALD IS ALWAYS ON CALL, TO LET ANOTHER QUAFFLE FALL! BRAVE, BRAVE SIR RONALD!"

There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere he looked; Draco was still circling the stadium just as Harry was. They passed one another midway around the pitch, going in opposite directions, and Harry heard Draco singing while the blond smirked his way:

"Brave, brave Sir Ronald! When danger rears its ugly head, He bravely turns tail and fled. Yes, brave Sir Ronald turned about, and oh so gallantly chickened out." Draco sung while he and Harry circled each other like vultures observing their prey.

"Bravely Angeal would take to his feet," Harry hummed with a smirk, elicitng a chuckle from Draco.

"He beat a very brave retreat!" Draco sung over the din of chorus coming from his housemates.

"All lies!" they heard Ron shout from the other side of the pitch. He looked highly distressed and flustered.

"BRAVEST OF BRAAAVE, SIR RONALD!"

"I never!" Ron screamed, gripping at his red hair.

"—and it's Warrington again," Lee Jordan bellowed, "who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him— turns out you can't in midair— but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell — er - drops it, too— so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!"

Harry and Draco were once again hanging back, watching the match unfold to their delight. They're gaze was especially on what was going on at Ron's end.

"— and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal! STOP IT, RON!"

Harry did not have to look to see what had happened, but he did all the same. He saw Ron give another protest to the Slytherins' rendition of "The Tale of Sir Robin", only to completely forget about blocking the goal to his left side. There was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Next to Harry was an evilly grinning Draco Malfoy. The blond was humming the song, and looking down at the Slytherin crowds, Harry saw the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherin supporters into a choir for singing orderly.

"You, good sir," Harry regarded Draco with a slight purr of hilarity in his tone, "are the ultimate evil, one surpassing even the likes of my own."

"Thank you, old friend," Draco smiled brilliantly over to Harry, "But the game is still afoot."

Yes it was, Harry admitted to himself. Twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor to catch up or catch the Snitch. A few goals and they would be in the lead as usual, Harry assured himself. He took off at the same time that Draco did, the two trading confident grins as they rocketed in opposite directions. Harry went forward, bobbing and weaving through the field, disrupting the Slytherin players as they tried to regroup and plan their next move.

But Ron had already let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Angelina, who flew up to Harry and tried to strangle him for not having the Snitch already in his grasp.

"— and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now, Angelina— GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle."

Harry could hear Luna's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers. Even more so he could now hear every word from Neville, who was no longer being silenced by Hermione and Ginny to keep him in his seat.

"GO, ANGEAL! GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME, MAN! BLOCK THOSE SHOTS, SHOW THEM THE STRONG ARM! BE THE HERO, ANGEAL!" Neville shouted his head off, with Ginny and Hermione screaming next to him, though neither were half as loud.

Harry turned his thoughts over in his mind. Only thirty points in it, that was nothing, they could pull back easily. Harry effortlessly ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in his direction and resumed his scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Draco in case he showed signs of having spotted it, but Draco, like him, was still easily distracted by the back and forth of the match at hand. Both continued to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly…

"— Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey— Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good— actually, it's bad— Bells hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession."

"BRAVELY BOLD SIR RONALD! BORN IN CATCHPOLE! HE'LL HAND US TRIUMPH ON A SPICY TUNA ROLL! BRAVE, BRAVE SIR RONALD!"

That was when, in his doubling over in laughter at the mention of sushi, Harry had seen it at last: the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch.

He dived, and in a matter of seconds, Draco was streaking out of the sky on Harry's left, a green and silver blur lying flat on his broom…

The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off towards the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Draco, who was nearer; Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck…

Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching towards the Snitch… To his right, Malfoy's arm extended too, was reaching, groping…

It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds— Harry's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball— Malfoy's fingernails scrabbled the back of Harry's hand hopelessly. The blond let out a growl of frustration.

"YES!" Neville and Ginny were hugging each other close, cheering and hopping around like hyperactive bunnies, "AWESOME CATCH, HARRY!"

Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval…

Harry closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the disappointment that filled Draco's usually smug expression along with the various curses the blond let loose loudly to the world around him. Oh, yes, life was certainly—

WHAM!

A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forwards off his broom.

"BLOODY HELL!" Neville screeched, once again jumping off the high railing from the Gryffindor stands. This time, however, he was followed swiftly by Ginny and even Hermione as the two females, too, leapt forward to join him.

Harry, caught by surprise, allowed rage and shock to overcome the sudden emptiness he felt when the Bludger hit him. He had been feeling so serene and happy one moment, and the next second was filled with a burst of pain he had not felt in a while. It caught him by surprise, so quickly in fact that Harry twisted in the air, the winds whirling around him as they exploded outward. He hovered gracefully in midair, like a spider suspended from a trail of its own web. Harry allowed his hand to outstretch, his Firebolt broom racing to open palm where he caught it nimbly. Harry merely held it aloft, glaring around with glimmeringly acidic emerald eyes which scanned for the dullard that dared attack his backside like a coward in the night. He was dimly aware of Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, the uproar in the stands compounded with catcalls, angry yells and jeering. But they mattered not for his furiously calm state of mind. Through the darkened pitch, Harry's eyes were like a beacon of dark and green fury, flickering through the many flying players as they gave pause to look at his haunting display of unusually unnatural witchcraft.

"Are you all right, Potter?" Angelina was quickly swooping down to be at his side, staring with a doe-like expression as she watched him, "And you're flying… without your broom?"

"Who dares?" Harry's words were like the jaws of a tiger, powerful and sleek, but twice as deadly.

Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players above him, and his eyes narrowed at the portly boy.

"It was that thug Crabbe," Angelina informed him angrily, but watched his reaction suspiciously, "he whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch— but we won, Harry, we won! It's over, Harry."

Harry didn't hear these last words. He merely kept his glowing gaze locked onto where Crabbe was hovering on his broom receiving an ear full from Madam Hooch. Harry lifted his empty hand at the thicker boy, eyes illuminating his actions even more so as they steadily began to glow brighter and brighter. His hair flew out in every direction, extending and lengthening while being drained of its dark color. His hair went from black to grey in the fraction of a second. Angelina watched him with impossibly wide eyes, and her face pale. Ron and Draco were zooming over with their brooms as fast as they could.

"HARRY, NO!" Ron yelled as he raced toward his friend.

"Potter, we won!" Angelina was in front of him, trying to take down his arm, "HARRY, STOP!"

"Don't do this, Sephiroth!" Draco rammed into Harry with full speed and all his might, but Harry's other arm shot out and closed around Draco's slender neck, dropping the Firebolt in the process. Draco's broom flew away from him as he clawed away at Harry's grip on his neck. Harry's hair was regaining what appeared to be luster, but in true it was changing color into a more silver quality.

"HARRY!" Ron came at him with a yell of effort, but Harry automatically threw Draco at him, and both crumbled to the ground when Ron was knocked off his broom by the body impacting his own.

"Potter I'm warning you! I SAID STOP!" Angelina was then smacked aside by Harry's now free hand. She and her broom whirled down to the pitch and landed in a heap within the sands.

Harry was not aware of Fred and George trying spells against him. They merely washed away in the green and black energy that was building around him. The hand that reached aimlessly for Crabbe began to give off a toxic purple mist. A halo of opaque light appeared above the top of Harry's head, radiating his already lustrous long silver locks. He began to ascend higher into the air, like an elegant archangel angel brining God's wraith upon the sinful masses. Fred's eyes went large, his jaw dropping before he snapped his neck toward the others who knew watching this display with the same amount of trepidation and foreboding.

"He's doing a fucking Limit Break! WE HAVE TO STOP HIM NOW!"

The crowds around the pitch and in the stands were hushed into a stunned silence as they witnessed Harry's powers unfold before their anxious eyes. Harry looked angelic as he rose toward the heavens. His free hand outstretched at his side toward the skies above, and in his other hand the purple mist became a crimson and black waft of darkness in his palm. Madam Hooch stopped in her tirade at Crabbe, trailing off when both witch and wizard noticed that there was a small dark halo hovering over the meaty boy's head. It leaked a dark energy around the thug, crafting a dark purple orb of smoky energies to enclose around Crabbe's body and broom. The boy screamed, not knowing what was happening, and nothing Madam Hooch did with her wand seemed to make a difference. The seasoned witch tried every spell, charm, and even a few banishing curses that came to mind in order to remove the sickly fog from encroaching around the panicked teenager.

"Descend," Harry's voice silenced everything in the world around the Quidditch pitch, even the harsh winds. His voice echoed in every direction as the brunt of his vengeance came down upon Crabbe, "Heartless—"

But the spell was cancelled and the Crabbe boy saved at the last minute =. Neville had finally reached Harry after taking Katie's broom up to him. He, unlike the others, didn't have the preservation or caution to hold back against someone like Harry. He was always the type to go all out no matter what situation he was faced against. His transfigured sword sliced cleanly into Harry, but no physical wound or blood came forth from the sharp contact. Harry's eyes lost some of their radiance as he glanced down at where Neville had struck him. Then his gaze drifted up to Neville, who stood perfectly balanced atop a broom with only his feet resting on it.

"Gah!" Neville was thrown back harshly by Harry's backhand impacting the long side of his sword. He was caught by Hermione and Ginny whipping out their wands and levitating him down safely, cushioning what would have been a meteoric impact with the ground.

But still, Neville's efforts and effect was successful. The sphere of darkness burst from around Crabbe with a wheeze the likes of a chain-smoker finishing off his last cigarette. Madam Hooch was quick in catching the boy as he fell forward. Her sharp yellow eyes widened in horror as she took in the boy's appearance. He was in mid-seizure, shuddering and gasping while spit foamed from the corners of his mouth. He was deathly pale and near catatonic. Madam Hooch swiftly flew down to the pitch with him, handing him off to his fellow Slytherins as they carted him off quickly to Madam Pomfrey, who waited at the end of the pitch with her wand at the ready.

Harry was dimly aware of voices screaming, Draco and Ron yelling, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care. Not until somebody in the vicinity yelled, "Impedimenta!"

Harry was knocked from the skies backwards by the force of the spell. Only then did he abandon his quest for searching out the portly teenager Crabbe in order to complete his vengeance.

"Potter! What the devil has taken ahold of you?" Madam Hooch screamed, looking both apprehensive and concerned. Beside her was Professor McGonagall and her wand pointed directly at him. Harry slowly rose to his feet with all the grace of a wounded panther looking to kill its crafty prey. As he stared at the two fully-realized witches, he vaguely noted that it had been McGonagall who hit him with the Impediment Jinx; Hooch was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Ron had Hermione to lend on while Draco was still kneeling on the ground nursing his bruised neck by rubbing at it. Fred and George had their wands at the ready with Angelina and Katie beside them. Ginny and Luna were at the back of the group preparing chants for support power.

"Mister Potter, I've never seen behavior like this!" McGonagall screeched while she and Hooch made their way to the front of the crowd. Snape was already there, placing himself in front of Draco while muttering chants under his breath. Dumbledore was nowhere in sight, and it was probably for the best. "Please stop this at once, and make your way back up to the castle. Straight to my office! Go! Now."

Harry didn't answer. He merely stared at them for a moment before his left hand rose. This was in contrast to what had occurred earlier, where his right hand had nearly killed Crabbe with the mysterious murky sphere. Harry's long silver hair and illuminating emerald eyes got many stares as the crowds began to flow onto the field. Harry's left hand glimmered silver, and several things happened at once.

Thick iron chains burst upward from the ground. The silhouette of a clock froze Hary's actions in the passage of time. A grey shimmering orb appeared to trap Harry's feet and root him to the spot. A wall of magical cubicles shimmered into existence, separating Harry from the group with thick power. Several dark voids surrounded Harry's person while an arch of lightning encircled his form.

"Hit him with everything you have behind the spell," came Snape's calm command, confusing Hooch and McGonagall as the students around him nodded in unison.

"SLEEP!" they all chorused, they're hands all flashing white before a shin of white mist and dove feathers drifted around Harry, causing his glowing eyes to droop heavily.

"I will never…" he said with a yawn, "become a memory…"

With that, all the spells around Harry's person shattered. He fell over, his long silver hair splashing out onto him.

With that, the first preemptive strike was fired, and everyone knew it.

The real war had finally and only just begun…