"Ah, Lucius, excellent," Fudge said, waving him inside. "Come in, come in. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea, thank you," Lucius said, folding himself into the handsome leather chair before the Minister's desk. "No Dawlish today?" He inclined his head back at the office door.

"No," Fudge said distractedly, as he busied himself with the tea tray in the corner. "He's in the Auror Office." Lucius had figured as much; as Fudge's eyes and ears (and Lucius' as well) in the Auror Department, Dawlish could only be effective if he was actually spending time there.

"And I see you've acquired a Weasley," he said, inclining his head toward the office door, which had just closed on a young, curly-haired man with horn-rimmed spectacles.

"A— oh, you mean Patrick—" The Minister paused. "Patrick? No…" He clicked his fingers: "Percy. Yes." Lucius arched an eyebrow. "I needed someone who could take on some of Dolores' workload while she's teaching, so…" He shrugged.

"And you think he's a… good fit?" Lucius asked. "He's a Weasley, Minister."

"Head Boy in his year," Fudge said, shrugging again. He set a teacup in front of Lucius, who dipped his head in thanks. "Though he seems to be struggling to find his feet; he's been with the Ministry for twelve months now and worked in almost every division, but none of them for more than a month or two."

"Clearly incompetent," Lucius drawled. "He—"

"Actually, he's very good," Fudge said, brow furrowing as he sat down. "Seems to know everyone here and he's very efficient. Ambitious, too, and you know that's a good quality." It made him manipulable, Fudge meant. Lucius had managed to teach him something over the last few years, at least.

"Even so," Lucius said. "He's a Weasley. Can you be certain his loyalties are to you and the Ministry?"

"I'm not certain of many people's loyalties at all, these days," Fudge said tiredly. "Yours, obviously—absolute nonsense that you could be a Death Eater—"

"It's disheartening," Lucius said, "that my past might still be held against me, despite everything I've done to clear my name since. And even then, it wasn't a choice, it was—"

"You were a victim," Fudge said gently, and Lucius nodded, keeping his expression under control. "I trust John—" He nodded at the office door, though it was some other Auror and not Dawlish who was outside it. "—and Dolores, of course."

"Of course," Lucius said. "And how is Dolores? Surviving at Hogwarts, I hope?"

"More than surviving," Fudge said, brightening. He leaned forward. "She's reported she's making progress with Potter." It was here that Lucius did lose control of his expression; rather than polite curiosity, he felt genuine surprise slide onto his face, and no small amount of disbelief. Thankfully, Fudge just laughed. "I know! She's always been very good at what she does, but— well, she and Potter have something of a history, and none of the rest of us have had any luck with him—" His voice soured slightly. "—so I didn't think— but apparently it's going well!"

"How so?" Lucius asked.

"Well, he acted out in the first lesson, apparently," Fudge said, "along with others—including one of your boys—so Dolores assigned him nightly detentions with her. Bit of discipline, set the boundaries early, that sort of thing… You're a parent, you know how it is."

"Indeed," Lucius said. "And so they've been… what… bonding in detention?"

"Apparently," Fudge said.

"And to what end?" Lucius asked. "Has he revealed anything useful?"

"Not the last few nights," Fudge said. "Apparently Potter's had a lot to say about the curriculum—like he's some sort of expert. A waste of time, but Dolores thinks she's making progress and winning his trust, and soon she'll be able to steer the conversation back to what's useful… The first night he told her Dumbledore's shared some information about the prophecy with him, and if Dolores can get that out of him—"

"So he does know it," Lucius said, heartbeat quickening. He'd have to reach out to Draco; Umbridge could certainly keep at it, but Draco was someone Potter trusted. If he was clever and careful—and Draco was both of those things—then he could discover the prophecy and Lucius could deliver it to the Dark Lord. They'd both be rewarded beyond measure, and Lucius could redeem himself for the failure in the Department of Mysteries, even though it hadn't been his fault the prophecy was destroyed—

"So it would seem," Fudge said, nodding. "And if Dumbledore's seen fit to share it with him, then I think we can only assume there's information in there that he thought Potter ought to know… information about how to defeat You-Know-Who for good, perhaps." Lucius was inclined to agree, though the idea made him uneasy.

"Then whoever has Potter has control of the situation," he said. If Dumbledore and the Ministry had him, he would be their weapon against the Dark Lord, and if the Dark Lord did, Potter would be dead and no longer a problem…

Assuming he's able to kill him, a small, treacherous voice murmured in Lucius' head. It sounded a little like Draco, as his doubts often did; they were on the same side now, certainly, thankfully, but for his first few years at Hogwarts, Draco had undermined Lucius like no one else ever had.

"Exactly," Fudge said. He looked thoughtful. "Dolores thinks she'll be able to win him over, but not necessarily away from Dumbledore—"

"Then that's of little use," Lucius said.

"Well…" Fudge fidgeted.

"Minister," Lucius said, "allying with Dumbledore would be disastrous." And it would be; the Dark Lord had been ignoring the Ministry in favour of gathering other allies and trying to discover the prophecy, because right now, the Ministry wasn't a threat. The Auror Department was, perhaps, but Fudge and the rest were focused on trying to undermine Dumbledore and in doing so, getting Potter offside. In the Dark Lord's mind, that made them allies, even if the Ministry did not know it.

But if the Ministry were courting Potter—and were willing to mend things with Dumbledore to do so—then that was a problem, and one the Dark Lord would have no choice but to address.

Swiftly, too.

And that was not the plan; the Dark Lord wished to infiltrate, to take the Ministry from within, rather than be forced to crush it.

"He has undermined you at every turn," Lucius continued. "First the fourth task, then the dementors, then the prophecy—"

"I know," Fudge snapped. "I know. But— well, Potter is adamant that Dumbledore's only agenda is defeating You-Know-Who, and—"

"And you believe him?" Lucius asked. Fudge mumbled something that sounded like The Boy Who Lived. "I believe we can trust that Potter wants to defeat the— defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We know he's keen to see that done, but I would implore caution in trusting him any further than that."

"Yes, of course," Fudge said, and then hesitated. He took a sip of his tea and gave Lucius a sideways look. "Ahem. Why?"

"Precisely," Lucius said smoothly. "Why? Perhaps his reasons for wanting the Dark Lord gone are altruistic, or perhaps he's in it to avenge the Potters, but what if there's more to it than that?"

"What do you mean?" Fudge asked. He was frowning now, but thoughtfully.

"What if he wants the Dark Lord out of the way so that he himself can take his place? Have you not wondered why the Dark Lord sought him out in the first place?" Lucius murmured. "I know I have." He straightened. "Or perhaps he's not Dark, per se, and is simply after power."

"Following in Dumbledore's footsteps," Fudge muttered, brow furrowing. "Better than another Dark Lord, but—"

"Is it?" Lucius asked.

"Isn't it?" Fudge asked uncertainly.

"Regardless of whether he's Dark or not, is there not the same potential for his ambition to drive him to challenge the Ministry? To seek to establish himself in a position of importance, of leadership, with no real regard for or concept of the duty he would have to the people?"

"I— yes, that's true—"

"And where Dumbledore's popularity is slipping—"

"Not as much as I'd like—"

"—Potter's remains uncontested. Cedric Diggory may have won the trophy and prize, but Potter won the audience."

"Despite crying victim the whole time," Fudge muttered.

"But he was telling the truth," Lucius said mildly. "Or at least, the events of the evening of the fourth task would suggest as much." Fudge sighed.

"I know. But then, isn't that cause to trust him now? He was telling the truth then, so—"

"Perhaps," Lucius said. "Perhaps, as I said, it is genuine altruism. Dolores will see that in her interactions with him, if so, and if not… well, we can only hope she is able to uncover his true motives before he does any damage."

"This is brilliant," Diggory said, staring around at the Room. He'd arrived with Weasley One and Two—who were open-mouthed—and Weasley, who looked awfully pleased with himself.

And not undeservedly, either, in Draco's opinion; it had taken no small amount of work to get the Room ready to be occupied by people not in their immediate circle. The Room had become a haven of sorts to them last year, a place that was private, and safe, and none of them had been ready to give that up.

Weasley's solution had been to create a secret room, uncoverable by patting the little dragon figurine that lived on the mantel. It would only open to the four of them, or She-Weasley, and it was there they'd relocated Draco pensieve with the memories Dumbledore had left for Potter, and all of their research on horcruxes and Potter's Mark.

What remained in the main section of the Room was not all that dissimilar to the set-up they'd had—the huge bookshelves and blackboards, and below, the enormous, padded training area—but they'd added a small brewing area, replaced the cosy, Gryffindor common room-esque sitting area with some tables, chairs, and beanbags, and they'd changed the colour scheme to better represent all four Houses.

More impressively, though, Weasley and Granger had somehow managed to set a passphrase for making changes to the Room, after She-Weasley had pointed out that it would be annoying if not dangerous to have the Room reacting to every little whim of anyone inside it.

"This is where you lot were practicing for the Tournament last year," Weasley One said, rather accusingly.

"Yeah," Potter said. Weasley Two raised his eyebrows:

"And it didn't occur to you that others—"

"He means us," Weasley One interrupted.

"—might also have been able to put this place to good use?"

"Harry needed it more," She-Weasley said.

"But you can use it however you want now," Weasley added. "It's set up for sharing, now."

"Within reason," Granger said sharply. She glanced between the twins. "This is a safe place, not a place for you to do experimental magic, or run your market research—"

"Would we do that, Hermione?" Weasley Two asked, putting a hand on his chest.

"I think you'd absolutely do that," Draco said, raising an eyebrow; their flyers on the common room notice board for test subjects had garnered quite a lot of attention this week.

"He knows us well, Fred," Weasley One said, winking at Draco.

"I think it's perfect," Diggory said, refocusing the conversation. He sat down at the table—which looked an awful lot like the one at the Order's Headquarters—beside Potter. "It's exactly what we need."

"Glad you like it," Granger said, looking pleased. She cleared her throat, expression suddenly all business. "Now, everyone knows why we're here, right?"

"Pretty sure you just want to rub in that you've had a secret room—"

Weasley cleared his throat and Weasley Two fell silent and walked around the table to sit down.

"Thank you, Ron," Granger said. "We're here because I thought it was a good idea to get us all together—those of us in, or close enough to the Order, that is—to figure out our next steps. We need to do something about the quality of our education in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and since Umbridge isn't going to step up and teach us properly, we're going to do it ourselves."

"Cedric was keen to have a Hogwarts branch of the Order," Potter said, looking around at them all. "And Hermione thinks we should sit our O.W.L.s. early so we don't have to see Umbridge anymore."

"And Harry wants to teach anyone who might ever need to defend themselves how to do it," Weasley said. Potter made a face at him. She-Weasley laughed.

"Anyone?" Weasley One asked, a little dubiously. "Because— and no offence, Malfoy—but if some of the little Death Eaters in training like your brother want in…" Weasley caught Draco's eye and snorted.

"They're not invited, obviously," Granger said. "We're going to have to be careful about who's invited; we don't want to give the other side any advantages, and we also can't afford to tip off Umbridge, or we'll all be in enormous trouble."

"We'll recruit," Potter said, "like the Order does. Bring in people we can trust, or people who need help and want to learn."

"And they can join the Order once they come of age," Diggory said.

"No," Potter said. He ran a hand through his hair. "We're teaching people how to defend themselves, not trying to drag them into the war."

"But if they want to…" Diggory said.

"Then that's between them and Dumbledore," Potter said firmly. "The Order's his."

"What do we call ourselves, then?" She-Weasley asked.

"Call ourselves?" Potter asked, blinking.

"Yeah," She-Weasley said. "I sort of thought we'd be the Junior Order or something, but if we're not…"

"I was thinking about that too," Granger said. "But I think Harry's right; we're connected to the Order, obviously, those of us here right now, but the rest of the people in this group won't necessarily be, and it's probably safer that way—for us and for them."

"What about RDADA?" She-Weasley said slyly. "Real Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"That's a mouthful," Weasley said.

"The Ministry of Magic are Morons group?" Weasley Two suggested.

"Yes, because that's not going to get us in trouble at all with Umbridge if it's discovered," Granger said, making a face. "Besides, we're not against the Ministry, not if they actually decide to help Harry and Dumbledore."

"Order of Defence?" Diggory suggested. "A bit of a play on words with Order, but—"

"Padfoot and Moony were going to be part of the Unicorn Association when Dumbledore wasn't going to let them join the Order," Potter said. "I don't think they'd mind if we re-used the name."

"Of course they were," Granger sighed, while Weasley laughed.

"Brilliant," Weasley One and Two said together.

"What about Life Drinkers," Weasley said. "'Cause— you know, Death Eaters."

"Makes us sound like we're vampires," Diggory said, wrinkling his nose.

"What's wrong with something subtle?" Draco said. "Gobstones club, or study group, or something."

"Then people won't know what we're doing," Granger said.

"That's the point," Draco said.

"Obviously it needs to be something we can say outside of this room," Granger said. "But maybe not that subtle—"

"Otherwise you'll have a bunch of confused Ravenclaws showing up to study," Weasley One said, grinning.

"Hermione's right."

"What's the opposite of Walpurgis?" Diggory asked, giving Potter a wry look. "You know, because of Walpurgis Academy…" Potter grimaced.

"What if it's not a name we use at all," She-Weasley said. "What if it's a symbol?"

"One of the House mascots?" Weasley asked. He glanced fleetingly at Potter. "Or were you thinking a wolf?"

"A phoenix?" Diggory said.

"Very subtle, Diggory," Draco said, rolling his eyes; Hufflepuffs.

"I was thinking a rune, actually," She-Weasley said.

"That could work," Granger said. She frowned for a moment and a piece of parchment and a quill appeared on the table before her. On it, she drew a lightning bolt, just like Potter's scar. Potter started to shake his head:

"They're not— this isn't my group—"

"It kind of is, though, mate," Weasley said. "Cedric came to you with his idea. Hermione came to you about O.W.L.s., and you wanted to open it up—"

"It's Sowelo," Granger said. "Life, and fire… like a phoenix."

"But subtle," Draco couldn't help but add, and Diggory grinned.

"The fact that it looks like your scar's just a bonus," Granger continued, a little sheepishly. Draco wasn't sure that was entirely true.

"Or…" She-Weasley drew a wonky, reversed Z shape on it, which Draco—who hadn't taken Ancient Runes since third year—took a moment to recognise it as Eihwaz. "Eihwaz," she said. "For protection and defence."

"It's also the yew tree—the death tree," Hermione said, chewing her lip. "I'm not sure that—"

"It's a reminder of what we're fighting," Potter said quietly.

"Sure," Diggory said. "Eihwaz is a symbol of change, too, though, and of transformation. And that's what we'll be doing here, isn't it? Changing things." He glanced at Ginny. "And protecting people. Or, rather, helping them protect themselves."

They were all silent for a few long moments, staring at the rune.

"Deep," Weasley One said, breaking the silence. "But I hope you're not expecting us to go around inviting people to Eihwaz, Hermione."

"We'll sound like complete prats," Weasley Two agreed.

"Yew," Draco said, glancing around the table. "You wanted wordplay, Diggory: see Yew tomorrow night. Gets the message across quite nicely, doesn't it?"

"In the short term, yes," Granger said. She looked at the twins and at Weasley and Draco. "Longer term, I was thinking we could come up with some other way to spread the word that isn't trying to track everyone down personally. Charmed calendars, or message parchments, or something."

"So now you'll support our experimental magic," Weasley Two said, and Hermione pulled a face at him. "Don't get your wand in a knot, Hermione— of course we'll help."

"Excellent," she said. "The last thing, I think we need, then, other than other members, is a way to protect ourselves." She looked rather grim. "We'll invite people we trust, obviously, which should help, but we'll need a way to make sure no one dobs us in to Umbridge… or, at least, something that lets us know who's responsible if that does happen. That way we can make sure we don't invite them back."

"It's not just Umbridge, though, is it?" Weasley One said. "Again—sorry, Malfoy, mate—but if your brother got wind of it, what's to stop him from going to her?"

"No, you're right," Granger mused. "Maybe no one can talk to anyone not in the group about what goes on?"

"No," Weasley said. "The Order's going to want to know, surely, and if we want to keep it open to new people…"

"You can't tell anyone not in the group the names of others in it, then," Potter said.

"Except your own," Draco said.

"That would work," Granger said, nodding.

"We should be exceptions, though," Weasley said. "As the founding members."

"We should be held to the same standard as everyone else," Granger said. "If we need to discuss it with the Order, then we can make them members, like they did with us for the Fidelius' protection."

"No one here's going to betray us," Weasley said, with far too much certainty for someone who knew it was entirely possible that Draco would have to at some point.

"Maybe not willingly," She-Weasley said, "but it could still happen—"

"It could," Potter agreed. "But if anyone here's betraying us, accidentally or not, then I reckon we've got bigger things to worry about than them telling Umbridge who's in our secret O.W.L. preparation club." He smiled ruefully, and the rest of the table—Draco included—made noises of amusement or concession. Potter glanced at his watch. "And on that note, I've got to get to detention."

"Us too," Weasley One said irritably, gesturing between himself and Weasley Two. "Snape couldn't figure out which of us blew up Warrington's potion, so he gave us both detention."

"Which of you did it?" She-Weasley asked curiously, as Potter left.

"Neither of us," Weasley Two sighed. "Warrington's just rubbish at Potions."

"That's so unfair!" Granger said, aghast.

"Thank you, Hermione," Weasley One said. "I quite agree; we didn't do a thing wrong that lesson—"

"We stole from the storage cupboard," Weasley Two pointed out.

"Oh, yeah, forgot about that," Weasley One mused, making the younger two Weasleys laugh. Diggory looked exasperated:

"A little less unfair, then," Diggory said, and Granger nodded, "since it's essentially punishment in lieu—"

"Snape doesn't know that, though," Weasley Two said.

"You'll be in even more trouble if you're late," Granger said pointedly, and feigning pain and betrayal, the twins left too. "Do you have a few more minutes?" Granger asked Diggory.

"Sure," he said. "What for?"

Granger pulled a thick sheaf of paper out of her bag and set it on the table.

"Harry's been asking Umbridge about O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. content in his detentions," she said. "Under the pretence of wanting to understand how appropriately her curriculum's going to prepare us for our futures." She smiled at the look on Diggory's face. "You've already taken your O.W.L.s—you can tell us if what she's said is right or not."

"The exam might've changed," Diggory said, pulling her notes toward him.

"Maybe," Granger said, frowning. "If it has, we'll have to do a bit more digging to find out if she's right. But if it hasn't, then we can also hope that what she's told him about your N.E.W.T.s is true, and that'll help us figure out what to focus on when we're practicing here…"

"This sounds riveting," Weasley said, around a large, feigned yawn, "but I'm going to leave you to it. Going to get one last fly in before tomorrow's try-outs."

"Oh, you're wanting to play?" Diggory asked, looking up.

"If I'm good enough," Weasley said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"You seemed like a decent flier when I saw you over the summer," Diggory said, and Weasley seemed to stand a little straighter, expression a little more hopeful. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Weasley said. He glanced at Draco and She-Weasley. "Either of you coming?"

"I will," She-Weasley said.

"Decided to try out, then?"

"Not yet," she said, looking rather miserable as she stood.

"Malfoy?"

"No," Draco said, pulling out his arithmancy homework. They were looking at intermediate spell behaviour and Vector had given them a particularly nasty set of calculations to do to figure out whether spells would ricochet or impact upon coming into contact with various non-living surfaces. Draco wasn't looking forward to them at all.

Weasley glanced down at it over his shoulder:

"That doesn't seem very useful," he said, frowning. "Wouldn't you be better to just get out of the way than stand there trying to figure out if a spell's going to bounce or not?"

"You're not very useful," Draco muttered, which was a blatant lie and Weasley's grin said he knew it.

"Actually it's extremely useful," Granger said. "You wouldn't calculate it in a duel, but if you have the basic theories of spell ricochet memorised you could use them to predict spell behaviour—"

"Including offensively," Diggory said. "Really talented arithmancers can essentially cast spells around corners as long as they can do some quick mental calculations to identify the critical angle of contact and know the class of the surface or object, and the spell family—it's brilliant."

That did sound rather brilliant, actually, though Weasley, predictably, fled now that the conversation had taken a turn for the academic, She-Weasley on his heels.