It would take some time for Harry to get to grips with the way life operated without Matthew, but that didn't mean that life stopped rolling along. The return to the normal standards of Hogwarts was best encapsulated by their constant presence in the library. Madam Pince was probably curious about where they'd been for so long, having often used the Tardis resources instead. Now that the blue box held too many memories to bear, he and Hermione had found sanctuary amidst the dusty tomes and endless shelves.

The two of them had chosen a new table in the library to make their own. That had been a decision both of them had made without having to discuss it. It felt wrong somehow to be at their usual spot when one of the seats was markedly empty. And so they constantly found themselves at a different spot, though one that was just as tucked away as their previous favourite haunt. It was a change they were still growing accustomed to, occasionally putting books in the wrong place and earning the fiery ire of the resident librarian.

Though normal life had crept up on them, the way people acted around them hadn't quite reverted back to the way it once had been. That was one of the other reasons as to why they regularly found themselves in the library, hoping to find a hiding place in one of the forgotten corners. Their fellow students couldn't help but look at them whenever they walked by, despite the fact that Matthew's passing had happened weeks beforehand. Harry should have been used to the attention by now, but the looks he received carried a different significance than what he'd previously been subjected to.

They pitied him now. Following the Ministry's change of tact over the summer months, the general public had come to glorify his name rather than trying to find a way to dirty it. Harry remembered how sudden a change that had been, which meant he should have realised that a separate shift could always have come just as abruptly. Instead of excitedly whispering about him and Hermione whenever they were in the same room as others, the pupils would keep quiet and give them a wide berth, stubbornly following Dumbledore's instructions of allowing them the time to grieve.

Except Harry hungered for that to change. He felt like it was one of the things that was holding him back from truly coming to terms with the loss of his friend, perhaps allowing him to move on. If the teachers and students started to once again treat him like he wasn't made of glass, then maybe he'd started to believe himself that he wasn't so fragile. He knew that Matthew would have despised the attention lasting so long - it was quite possibly the best way to honour his legacy if they chose to pull themselves up by the bootstraps and focused on the fight that was heading their way.

"I…I want to give it a try."

Harry had been looking at Hermione anxiously before plucking up the courage to make the comment. She had her face pressed impossibly close to the large book she was reading, as if she was particularly interested in discovering what the pages smelt like. Her hair was growing to be messy, largely in the spot she'd been scratching her head whilst she worked. If a sight could have summed up the gradual reemergence of normal life, then it was the one of his close friend in her natural habitat, fretting about making sure she had enough words for his essay despite always going over the limit.

Much to his surprise, she was quick to look away from her work, giving him an encouraging look to speak his mind. It suggested that she wasn't completely back to her old self, which was understandable to say the least. Maybe she'd been waiting for an excuse to avoid her endless scribbling or a distraction to take her mind off things. Maybe she looked so enthusiastic because she saw it as Harry coming more out of his shell, as if she was worried that he was still weighed down by recent events.

"Care to elaborate?" she asked.

"The training sessions in the Great Hall haven't restarted since…you know… everything . I think it's time for them to be reinstated. It's not as if we have a lot of time to prepare everyone for what's coming. Voldemort has already shown that he's willing to escalate things. We need to cram as much knowledge into the students as possible."

"And you want to try to convince Dumbledore that it should be starting up again?"

"No. I don't think it'll take a lot of convincing. You spoke to him last time about it. He was more than enthusiastic about the idea. No…I was more thinking along the lines of…leading a class. Myself."

Harry waited for the response he was expecting. He envisaged Hermione bursting into fits of laughter, which seemed to be imminent with the way her eyes were shining at his revelation. He might have anticipated some shock and surprise too, seeing as he'd openly resisted the idea in the past. So when he was met with a gleaming smile, he didn't know how to properly react.

"Oh, Harry! That's a brilliant idea!"

"You think so?"

"I've been saying it from the very beginning! Everyone else will take a lot of confidence from seeing another student performing that level of magic. It's alright seeing a teacher or a trained auror doing it, but this could do a lot of good in inspiring more people to take the next step."

"It could put people off. You know how some of them view me, like I'm some sort of chosen one."

"You are the chosen one. But you're also a kid."

"I like to see myself as a young man, actually."

She smirked, which was accompanied by a roll of her eyes. "You're a young man then. If you can do it, so can they. I'm sure the likes of Lupin and Moody will be happy to take an evening off. They might even pop by to see what tricks you've got up your sleeve."

Harry groaned into his hand. "They won't do that, right? I don't need that sort of pressure."

"But having numerous pairs of eyes on you when they just belong to teenagers isn't a lot of pressure?"

Another groan. "You're not helping."

"You can't back out now. I'm already drafting the letter to Dumbledore in my head."

When Harry found the strength to lift his head back up, he discovered that Hermione was gnawing on her bottom lip. It was a look he'd come to intimately understand when it came to the other person. It was the expression she wore when she was worried about saying something, worried about overstepping the mark, worried about somehow insulting him or impugning his honour. He'd also come to know that, despite her reservations, she was usually able to ask the question anyway with a little nudge of encouragement.

"What is it?"

She smiled at the fact that she'd been caught out. "I'm just curious."

"No changes there, then."

"Precisely."

"What are you curious about?"

"It's just…there was a point in time when you couldn't have resisted the idea of leading a class strongly enough. What made you change your mind?"

"Matthew."

She looked surprised at the openness in which he used the name. Over the previous weeks, it had almost become a banished word, like ignoring its hold over them would lessen the strength of the hold it had over them. But Harry didn't want it to resemble a dirty or tarnished term. There would come a time when they'd be able to speak about their friend without the majority of their feelings being shattered but, whilst they waited for that moment, it was up to them to use it regularly, in order to normalise talking about him again.

"Did he…suggest that you do it? Before he…"

Hermione looked like she was teetering dangerously close to crying again, when she'd made such brilliant progress up to that point. Looking to preserve those steady steps she'd taken, Harry reached out to cover her hand, silently telling her that she didn't have to finish the sentence. Grief was strange like that. You started to believe that you were moving away from it, only for it to ensnare you once again when you were least expecting.

"No. The last proper conversation we had actually revolved around Enola."

"His friend from childhood?"

"Yeah. It was strange how it came about. Obviously, we were reeling from destroying the horcrux and the defences it deployed to try to stop us. I wanted to know if the figure who appeared was related to him and he was…unusually open about it. You know what he was like. He never revealed details about himself that weren't strictly necessary. So to have it happen so easily…I was sitting there, dumbstruck."

"I keep thinking about how strange he was acting that day," Hermione professed. "The way he was talking when we parted…he was saying goodbye. At the time, I just took it as the standard farewell but, the more I read into his words…do you ever wonder whether he knew what was going to happen?"

"How could he have done?"

"He was always full of surprises."

"Dumbledore said that he didn't know why Matthew went to Diagon Alley. Maybe he discovered that the Death Eaters were going there. I just don't know how he'd come up with that information."

"Neither do I. But it's the one thing that still bugs me about what happened. I'll never know why he was there that day. And I… hate the fact that I can't ask him."

"Me too."

"He probably wouldn't have told me, with his track record, but I would have worn him down until he relented." She shook her head, as if to banish those thoughts. "But we're not supposed to be talking about that."

"It's just easy to get sidetracked by reminiscing whenever he's brought up."

Her smile was a sad one. "Because we made a lot of memories with him. But that's not a bad thing."

"Far from it."

"I just wanted more. So many more."

"It's those memories that have pushed me towards this decision. Matthew didn't expressly ask me to do it or anything. But I thought…well, I could pass on some of the things he taught me, you know? Maybe not anything to do with pure magic, because that'd take far too long to navigate, but there are plenty of skills that I wouldn't know if it wasn't for him. They're the sort of skills that could be really beneficial in a fight."

It was still a point that left a sour taste in Harry's mouth, but one he was being forced to grow accustomed to. The idea that more people his age were going to find themselves in an actual battle, potentially a fatal one at that, wasn't one that felt real. After his numerous years at Hogwarts, it had always been the three of them getting into dangerous scrapes, with the general student populace typically oblivious to their strife. It felt wrong to be including them now, especially if he was leading the sessions, but it also would have felt wrong to ignore the looming danger,

"And they're not the sort that you'd find anywhere in a textbook."

"He would have loved to have heard you insulting the notion of textbooks."

"I'm not insulting them, thank you very much! I'm simply pointing out that Matthew very rarely stuck to the syllabus. And that might be a good thing when the time comes. It might catch any attackers unawares."

"So…you think I should do it?"

"Harry, I've been campaigning for this from the very start. I'm not about to stop now that it's actually happening."

"Good…because I might need a demonstration partner…"

"I'm sure Professor Lupin will enjoy being thrown to the floor repeatedly."

"I was hoping to employ the services of the greatest witch in the school…"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "You know, those magical skills weren't the only thing Matthew passed onto you. You're getting scarily good at charming me. And I don't appreciate it."

xxxxxxxxxx

Despite her protestations, Hermione found herself next to Harry on a temporary stage in the Great Hall a couple of days later, akin to being the magician's assistant at one of the shows Muggles believed were 'real' magic. It was easier for Harry to stand tall with her by his side, rather than being cut adrift with an audience before him. Even so, he was having to regularly remind himself to keep his breathing calm and composed, picturing all the ways the next hour could go wrong.

Harry didn't know how to feel about one particular point facing him - there seemed to have been a big increase in the number of students attending the group from what he remembered last time. He might have greeted it with delight, seeing as he wanted as many people as possible to learn the tricks of the trade, and a few survival instincts to go with them. But, as he faced the unexpectedly large crowd, the prospect of commanding the attention of all of them became a much more daunting one.

He had a few ideas as to why so many pupils had turned up, having been scared away by the rigorous teaching methods used by Moody. Whilst he might not have liked to talk about it, his notoriety might have played a part in boosting the number of members. Word had understandably spread that Harry Potter was going to take charge of a session. They were presumably curious as to what knowledge he could impart, though some of them were likely taking a more cynical approach, wondering how he was able to take on the role of a teacher despite being younger than plenty of the party.

Another factor that couldn't be ignored was the timing of Matthew's death. Although the boy had kept to himself most of the time, he'd still been one of their own. The fact that he'd been cut down proved beyond any reasonable doubt that the same fate could meet any of them. It was no wonder that they were scared. Harry was simply relieved to see that, instead of taking that fear and hiding away, the majority of the school were using it as an incentive to better themselves. If they kept that mindset, then it was entirely possible that they would make it out of the dark.

With the excited and perhaps suspicious chatter dying down, Hermione gave him a gentle nudge forward. That was apparently her not-too-subtle way of encouraging him to take charge, silently instructing him to start talking before things became awkward. Harry didn't know whether to thank her for the intervention, or glare at her for forcing him ever deeper into the scheme. No matter the fact that it had been his idea in the first place.

He cleared his throat nervously and, much to his growing surprise, the amassed group quietened down. A shifting figure towards the back of the hall caught his attention and he realised that, just as Hermione had predicted, Lupin had turned up to watch the spectacle unfold. There was no doubt that he would be reporting back to Sirius as to how the class went and how well Harry ended up doing, which added to the pressure resting on his shoulders. But it was reassuring to know that an adult was on hand, just in case something unexpected went wrong.

When kids and magic were involved, that was always a possibility.

"Um…hello," Harry began. Someone coughed in the crowd, accentuating the growing silence. "I…really appreciate you all coming today. It's really important that we continue with this group. We can't deny that Voldemort and his followers are willing to kill any of us if we happen to get in their way."

It didn't come as a surprise that plenty of the large group flinched at the use of Voldemort's name, but it was still a frustrating development. Oddly enough, it seemed to embolden Harry, acting as the final confirmation he needed to prove that he was doing the right thing, that he was supposed to be leading the class. Maybe it wasn't just about teaching them new skills and different spells. Maybe he needed to help change their entire perspective when it came to threat, which would hopefully go a long way in reducing the palpable fear in the room.

"Some of you obviously don't like me using that name," he continued. "Most of you, in fact. But we need to get this out of the way from the very beginning. If I'm doing this, I'm going to be using Voldemort's name. His title, which he gave himself for exactly this reason - to scare people who have never met him. You've heard Dumbledore use it in the past, because he wants you to understand this same lesson: fear of the name increases the fear of the person. If you're rendered immobile just because someone mentions him, then you're not going to be able to act when he's actually standing in front of you."

"Is…is that going to happen though? Is he going to be right in front of us?"

Harry tried to locate the person who'd asked the question. It took a few moments but his eyes finally landed on the figure of Colin Creevey, standing at the front of the crowd, a sight which transported Harry to a much simpler time. He thought of a moment when he'd been sitting under a tree with Hermione and Matthew beside him, laughing at a joke he could no longer remember. The photo which Colin had taken of the snapshot in time was now one of his most beloved possessions, and it hurt to see the younger boy now having to face the prospect of war.

"I wish I could say that it's not possible," Harry answered. "But Voldemort wants to rule over every part of our society, which includes this school. It might be years before he plucks up the courage to arrive. It might be days. The only thing I can teach you is how to remotely cope when that situation comes."

"Because you've faced him, haven't you?"

It was a girl from Hufflepuff who put the query forward this time, with the crowd growing more confident following the initial interruption. Harry started to acknowledge the expressions of some of the people in front of him. They were looking at him with hope. They'd been left terrified by the fate of Matthew, which proved that any and all of them were vulnerable. The fact that Harry was still standing counteracted that point, showcasing that facing the threat didn't have to invariably be the last thing they did.

"I have. I was maybe a little bit…no, very lucky to survive to tell the tale, but the fact is that I did . The headmaster is proof enough that Voldemort isn't invincible. But you can't start comparing yourself to him. Look to people like Hermione. She was taken, just like me, at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. And she's still standing."

The girl in question looked distinctly embarrassed about being roped into the discussion, giving the crowd a small, awkward wave once their eyes were trained on her. Whilst it might have been a small dose of payback for daring to encourage him to stand on that stage, Harry firmly believed every word he was saying. She was, without a doubt, an inspiration in his eyes. Perhaps the sessions would also work to make her see herself in exactly the same light.

"What was he like?" a Ravenclaw boy, no more than a Second Year, asked.

"He's terrifying," Harry admitted. "And evil. I'd be lying to you all if I didn't say that. But, no matter what he claims, he's still just a man. Powerful, yes. But not unbeatable. We can all learn from the likes of Matthew Mormont. He didn't back down when he faced Voldemort. He spoke to him as he would any man."

"But…isn't that what got him killed?"

It was a Slytherin who posed the question, with numerous people nodding their heads in agreement at the suggestion. It would have been predictable for the young woman's question to be spiteful and antagonistic, given which house she belonged to. But Harry put his bias to one side for a change, sensing that the question was born out of nothing more than fear. They wanted to listen to Harry's advice. But they'd been shown that the consequences could prove fatal.

Hermione edged forward, as if she thought that Harry would react negatively to the reminder of Matthew's death. A part of him did, in truth, with the words serving as a proverbial slap in the face. But he was pleasantly surprised to discover that it also came with a semblance of empowerment, because he now knew that the passing of his friend didn't have to be for nothing. It could inspire those people who still held doubts close to their chest. It could give him the chance to tell others about the brilliance Matthew had possessed, so that his memory lived on.

"Voldemort targeted Matthew because he dared to defy him, yes," Harry replied. "If that makes you want to run away and forget about this group, then that's entirely what Voldemort wants. The way I see it, it proves that Voldemort is scared . You might not even believe me. But he's scared when people oppose him, largely because so few people have been brave enough to do it in the past. He refuses to come to Hogwarts whilst Albus Dumbledore is in charge. He sent a team of soldiers to kill a teenager in cold blood because he happened to insult him. Just imagine what could be accomplished if all of us took that stance. Just imagine how scared we can make Voldemort if we stand together.

"The great thing is, you can do this sort of thing already. You can change the way you think. You can train yourself to call him by his name, rather than monikers designed to make us feel more comfortable with the idea of him. That can start today, in this very room, if you make the choice to be a part of this. And that's all before we've lifted a wand. If you overcome the fear, that's one less hurdle to navigate. With that out of the way, what's to say you can't hold yourself in a duel? If Voldemort is scared and you're not, who's in the better position?"

From the back of the chamber, Lupin was the first to clap. Hermione was second. Little Colin Creevey, joined by his younger brother, started to. After that, the rest of the group began to applaud and Harry could feel his cheeks burning impossibly red. He'd never liked the attention, even when it was celebratory. But if it happened to come when he was doing something worthwhile, then it was entirely possible that he could live with the acclaim. Despite how fidgety he felt as a result.

"Now we've got that out of the way," he said, once the noise finally died down. "Should we focus on actually doing some magic?"

xxxxxxxxxx

A shift could be detected in the atmosphere at Hogwarts, though Harry wasn't egotistical enough to believe that he was entirely responsible. The mood had lifted considerably, moving the school ever closer to what it had been like before the Diagon Alley attack. Some students who'd taken part in the session were now brave enough to approach Harry in the corridor, rather than giving him the space to work through his sadness. And those same students spoke with growing excitement to others, spreading the word of the lessons they'd been taught.

The one thing Harry didn't seem himself as was a proper teacher, which was why his first class hadn't focused whatsoever on emparting knowledge about a new spell. He could leave that to Lupin in their Defence Against the Dark Arts sessions. That being said, in an effort to impress the group and perhaps convince the few doubters who remained, he'd conjured his patronus, allowing the ethereal owl to glide through the air. The sight had been met with 'oohs' and 'ahhs', and a wink from the professor who'd taught him that very skill.

After that, the pupils had been willing to listen attentively and he'd gotten them to practise a trick for combat. Matthew had shown in the past how beneficial it was to have a heavy arsenal of spells up your sleeve, and so Harry had encouraged them to push themselves to fire off as many different incantations as they could think of within a fifteen second window. The walls of the Great Hall were still scorched in some places from some of the more explosive end results, which had earned him a disapproving glare from McGonagall (and a few of the House Elves trying to mend the stonework) the morning after.

It was safe to say that he was still a work in progress.

"New delivery."

Harry had done well not to drop the five books he was carrying in his haste to be reunited with Hermione. After classes had finished for the day, leaving him weary as ever, he'd discovered the pile waiting for him upon his bed. And all the tiredness had left his body, instantly pushing him to find his oblivious friend until they could share in the discovery. The fact that she was in the library came as no surprise at all, which would also help to disguise their latest investigations.

Hermione perked up at his arrival. He would have liked to have thought that her positive mood was solely because of him returning, even if they'd spent the majority of the day together. But he knew that the smile on her face and the eager flash in her eyes was down to the sight of the books in his hands. If there was anything that could always be successful in cheering her up, then it was something new to read. Especially when there was an air of mystery surrounding it.

"What are you talking about?" she wondered.

"I found these in my dorm. With a note attached from Dumbledore."

"Saying?"

"I think he's keeping to his word. When he…brought Matthew into the hunt for the horcruxes, he allowed us to be clued in too. I was getting worried that things were getting quiet after everything that's happened, that Dumbledore was regretting that decision. But he seems to think there might be a clue in one of these that could tell us where the next horcrux or even what it is."

"What are they?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't had a chance to look. As soon as I found them, I came looking for you. I thought if anyone is going to be able to spot a miniscule detail in a book, it's going to be you."

"High praise indeed."

Without needing a second invitation, Harry spread out the books across the table, only earning a slight glare of disapproval when he knocked the tomes Hermione had been perusing beforehand. The five books all looked fairly similar, bearing the emblem of Hogwarts. They also appeared incredibly old, which didn't come as much of a surprise given who they were researching. Harry was the first to open the one closest to him, the first time that a student had been more eager to read a book than Hermione Granger. And he was met with the unexpected sight of a collection of photos.

"Oh, don't you see, Harry?" Hermione said once she'd taken the same leap herself. "These are yearbooks. I presume Dumbledore located the ones from Riddle's time at the school."

"What use are they going to be?"

"Well…that's to be seen."

"Do you get the sense that Dumbledore is just giving us a menial, fruitless task to keep us happy? To make us feel like we're being included in the process?"

"I don't imagine him being that cynical. He might just be too busy to spend his time looking through so many pages. This could be a treasure trove of information. We've already discovered that Riddle made his horcruxes so that they carried a certain weight of personal significance. There might be something he kept with him throughout his Hogwarts years that could perfectly fit the bill."

By that point, there was no chance that Harry was going to deter her from diving in, which was why they spent the next couple of hours flicking through the old pages. Most of what they came across had absolutely nothing to do with Riddle, which threatened to further decrease Harry's motivation towards the cause. But, every so often, a familiar face would pop up and his stomach would churn at the sight, his scar teetering dangerously close to tingling uncomfortably.

Having stood right in front of a young Tom Riddle, no matter the fact that he'd been a spectral construct at the time, should have lessened the impact of seeing him on the page. Yet it was still a strange experience, staring into the eyes of someone who would become a killer. In some of the pictures, he was already a killer, having slain poor Myrtle upon the original opening of the Chamber of Secrets. With hindsight, it was easy to pick up on the hints of the evil lurking within the boy, but it was also simple to understand why so many people had never thought he was capable of such destruction.

At one point, Harry paused as he came across a group photo. Riddle was standing next to a small number of other students, along with a portly professor. They were all smiling and, on occasion, waved at the camera. He peered more closely at the moving image, trying to ascertain every detail that could be seen relating to Riddle. A flash of colour on the boy's hand caught his attention and, seeking inspiration, he flicked back to some of the photos from earlier years.

"Take a look at this," he said.

Seeing as they hadn't come across any success up to that point, Hermione was quick to jump up from her seat and moved to his side of the table. She hovered by his shoulder, looking at the pages with such fascination that her hair almost obscured his vision. He pointed to the object he'd discovered, then directed her attention to one of the older pictures, in which the same item couldn't be seen. Harry was well aware that he was clutching at straws but, by that point, he was desperate for anything to go on.

"A ring," Hermione murmured.

"At some point, he became attached to that ring so much that he chose to wear it to special events."

"Can you make out the insignia?"

"Not clearly. But maybe Dumbledore has a way of…I don't know, magnifying it?"

"It's worth a try, isn't it?"

"Do you think it could be something?"

"I've learnt to trust your instinct over the years, Harry."

"Do you reckon he'll still be awake at this hour?"

"I don't think he'll turn down a night cap."