As the faint echoes of Moody's statement faded into the stone walls of the basement, a heavy silence descended upon the dimly lit duelling room. When nobody dared speak against his proclamation, the members of the Order began to disperse, leaving Harry standing alone in the middle of what remained from his duels.

With Moody away in a dark corner with Lupin and Shacklebolt, few chose to speak with Harry, but he could tell he'd gained more respect than he'd started with. It seemed even Dumbledore's chosen Order weren't above a peculiar aspect of the wizarding world.

With magic, power spoke louder than anything, and in the aftermath of the duel, his prowess had demanded attention. Before, he had been just another 14-year-old, his wiry form seeming feeble, with no visible muscles or looks to command respect.

But now, even despite his limited success against Lupin, he was a force to be reckoned with, an equal among wizards and witches far older and seasoned. It was a fairly shallow outlook, one that dominated much of the magical world, but when it worked in Harry's favour, he wasn't going to complain.

"Chin up, Harry," Sirius instructed, startling Harry from his thoughts.

"Huh?" He asked in bewilderment, turning to stare at his godfather.

Sirius met Harry's gaze with a reassuring smile, his expression soft with affection. "Whenever you finish a duel, you should always look like you're ready for another. And part of that is about keeping your chin up, holding your head high."

Even as he straightened his posture and lifted his chin, Harry couldn't help questioning the advice. "But why? I am ready to fight another duel, but I wouldn't have thought any amount of good posture could help anyway."

"It's not about being physically ready, it's about the mental aspect, especially when you aren't able to continue fighting. If people see you standing tall, they can be tricked into believing they don't stand a chance, even when you're moments away from dropping. Plus, it makes you look cooler."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at Sirius's last comment, his mind drifting back to the dishevelled and wild-haired man he had first met in his third year. "When did you grow so wise?"

Sirius grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Ah, it was actually James who'd drilled that chin-up stuff into my head, and I'm fairly sure he made it up. But it certainly worked, though."

"From what I heard, my dad wasn't much of a mentor," Harry remarked, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Sirius's grin widened as he got lost in his memories. "That's true enough, he was more of a partner in crime, really. But he had his moments of wisdom, especially when it came to duelling. For all his faults when we were kids, there was nobody who could deny he was skilled. Something you've clearly inherited. It's why you're the best of James and Lily."

"Not yet he isn't," Moody growled, marching up to them as Kingsley and Lupin left the basement. "But he will be when we're through with him."

"I'm ready," Harry replied, turning to face the grizzled Auror, his voice firm with determination. "Whatever it takes, I want to become the best."

Moody's eye flickered with approval, a rare glimmer of satisfaction amidst the perpetual vigilance. "Good lad. But we'll see about that. Now, do you know what you specifically did wrong during that final duel?"

Harry paused, his mind replaying the duel's events. "Yeah," he admitted, "I underestimated Tonks and Lupin. I thought my plan would've worked, but they caught me off guard. I should've been more prepared for their own teamwork."

Moody nodded, his expression grave. "Aye, teamwork's crucial in a duel. Can't always go it alone, especially against skilled opponents like them. Anything else?"

Harry hesitated, recalling his hesitation during the duel. "I... let my emotions get the best of me," he confessed. "I hesitated when I should've acted, because I didn't want to hurt my friends. But I know I can't afford that in a fight."

Moody's eye narrowed slightly, his scrutiny unwavering. "Anything else?"

Harry nodded, a determined glint in his eye. "Yeah, I... I let myself get backed into a corner. Should've adapted my tactics, been more assertive."

Moody grunted in acknowledgment, his approval evident despite his gruff demeanour. "Good insights, Potter. Shows you're willing to learn from your mistakes. And it takes guts to admit where you went wrong."

Harry nodded, appreciating the acknowledgment.

"As you pointed out, your emotional distractions got the better of you," Moody continued, his magical eye fixed on Harry. "You hesitated when you should've acted, letting sentimentality cloud your judgement. In a duel, sentimentality can be your downfall. You need to stay focused and keep your emotions in check if you want to come out on top."

Moody's words hung in the air, the weight of their truth evident.

"Additionally," Moody went on, "you underestimated your opponents. Tonks and Lupin may not be Death Eaters, but they're strong fighters with skills you shouldn't underestimate. You can't afford to let your guard down, especially in a two-on-two duel."

Harry nodded at Moody's instructions, wanting to show the man he appreciated the assessment.

"And finally," Moody concluded, "your lack of teamwork with Shacklebolt was evident. You need to communicate better and coordinate your efforts if you want to stand a chance against skilled opponents like Lupin and Tonks. It's not just about individual prowess; it's about working together as a team to outmanoeuvre your opponents."

Moody's gaze bore into Harry's, emphasising the seriousness of his words.

"We'll work on these areas in your training, Potter," Moody said firmly. "You've shown potential, but it's up to you to turn that potential into skill. Are you ready to put in the work?"

Harry met Moody's gaze with determination. "Yes, sir. I'm ready."

"Grand! Now, you know you're a strong lad, and I know it. But any ally or teammate you have to work alongside may not," Moody continued, his tone becoming more instructive.

"In a dynamic field like magic, specialisation is common. You'll encounter wizards and witches with unique skill sets and magical abilities. Some may excel in offensive spells, others in defensive charms, and some may have expertise in niche areas of magic you've never even heard of."

Moody paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

"Effective teamwork requires understanding and leveraging each other's strengths and weaknesses," he explained. "You might be a powerful duelist, but if you're paired with someone who excels in defensive magic, you'll need to adapt your strategy accordingly.

"Likewise, if you're facing opponents with unique magical abilities, you'll need to adjust your approach to counter their strengths. This is why communication is key," Moody stressed.

"You and your teammates must communicate effectively during a duel, coordinating your actions and adapting to the ever-changing circumstances. Trust each other, rely on each other's expertise, and always have each other's backs.

"You left Kingsley to flounder, and limited him with a very rigid order. And Kingsley being the stubborn sod he let himself be taken down because you hadn't ordered him to defend himself, simply to attack Lupin.

"Now, you can hope in a real duel, your ally will actually use their head, but when you are the leader, it's your duty to anticipate every possible outcome," Moody declared, his tone unwavering.

"You can't afford to rely solely on your partner's judgement. As the leader, you must assess the situation, formulate a plan, and adapt it as circumstances change."

Moody's eye bore into Harry's, emphasising the gravity of his responsibility. It made Harry realise that Moody had almost certainly led other Aurors before, that the man had likely learned his lessons the hard way.

"In the chaos of battle, you're the one your teammates will look to for guidance," Moody continued. "You need to be prepared to make split-second decisions, delegate tasks effectively, and keep a cool head under pressure.

"If I were in your position earlier, I'd have ordered Kingsley to attack both opponents. You'd have been better in a support position," Moody asserted, his voice decisive. "It was clear your raw power wasn't enough alone, but even at the end, your defences held. Now, if you had focused on defending Kingsley," he paused, letting the implication hang in the air, shaking his hand from side to side.

"Kingsley could have opened vulnerabilities for you," Sirius finished, stepping in with a nod of agreement. "With your strength and his knowledge, you'd have fared much better."

Moody's eye flickered with approval as Sirius echoed his sentiments, "Exactly. So that's what we'll be working with you on, Potter. You need to be taught how to work alongside your allies effectively. You'll learn to anticipate moves, cover for a teammate's weaknesses, and capitalise on each other's strengths. That's what separates the good from the great in a duel.

"We'll start with some basic drills to improve your coordination and communication skills," Moody continued, outlining their training plan. "Then we'll move on to more advanced techniques, and get you used to being in charge."

Having the real Mad-Eye Moody as a teacher was just as tiring as when Crouch Jr had pretended to be the man. It was perhaps made even worse by the presence of Sirius and the occasional Order member.

The intensity of Moody's training sessions often left Harry physically and mentally drained, as they pushed him to use his mind and body far more than his magic.

But despite the exhaustion and the mounting pressure, Harry was determined to rise to the challenge. He pushed himself to the limit in every session, absorbing Moody's teachings with unwavering focus.

With each correction, and each piece of advice, drove him to become stronger, faster, better prepared for whatever awaited him beyond the walls of the impromptu training room.

He could tell he was improving, but it was hard when he'd finally found something that didn't naturally come to him. There were no clever tricks or shortcuts he could take, there was only hard work and practice.

However, with the hearing just one day away, Harry found himself torn between the demands of his training and the weight of his impending trial. It was something he'd largely tried to ignore, until the date loomed before him, leaving him feeling unprepared.

Finally, Moody lowered his wand, sensing Harry's mind was elsewhere. The grizzled Auror's magical eye fixed on Harry with a piercing intensity, cutting through the haze of distraction that clouded his thoughts.

"Alright Potter," Moody's gravelly voice broke the silence, drawing Harry's attention back to the present. "You're not focusing. Something's weighing on your mind, and it's affecting your performance."

Harry shifted uncomfortably under Moody's words, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from the seasoned Auror. "It's the hearing, Moody," he admitted reluctantly. "I can't seem to shake the nerves."

Moody's expression softened slightly, a rare display of empathy from the typically stoic Auror. "Ah. I understand, lad. Facing the Ministry can be daunting, especially for someone as young as yourself. Is there anything in particular you are worried about, something I might be able to put at ease?"

Harry hesitated, grateful for Moody's unexpected offer of support. "It's just... everything," he confessed, his voice tinged with frustration. "I'm worried they won't believe me, or that they'll try and cover up what happened."

"Aye, those are certainly valid concerns." Moody nodded thoughtfully, his expression grave. "The Ministry has a way of twisting things to suit their own agenda. But you'll have the truth on your side, and that always helps. They'll try to poke holes in your story, undermine your credibility, and make you doubt yourself."

Harry's stomach churned at Moody's blunt assessment, feeling even worse. "Just what I wanted to hear, thanks Moody." Harry retorted wryly.

Moody gave him a gruff nod. "Just remember, Potter, you've faced worse than a bunch of bureaucrats. Keep your wits about you, stick to the truth, and don't let them rattle you. You'll come out of this just fine. You've got more power than anything they've got, you just have to remind them of that.

"I'll be there to make sure you get there fine, and I can stay with you until you're inside the hearing. And you've been exchanging letters with that Lord Greengrass, haven't you? He'll make sure you won't be alone."

Harry nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude toward Moody for his support. "Thank you, Moody. I appreciate it."

Moody grunted in acknowledgment, his magical eye going back to scanning the room with its usual vigilance. "No need for thanks, Potter. Just doing my duty. Come on, there's no point staying here while you're so distracted, let's go see if Molly will make you a cup of tea."

Just before they left the training room, Moody clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "Remember, lad, you're not alone in this. We're all behind you, every step of the way."

Arriving in the kitchen, they found Molly bustling about, the aroma of their upcoming dinner filling the air. She glanced up as they entered, a warm smile lighting up her face.

"Any chance of a cuppa for the lad, Molly?" Moody asked, even as he wandered over to give the cooking pot a cautious sniff.

Molly chuckled indulgently, nodding as she poured a generous amount of tea into a mug for Harry. "Of course, Alastor. Sit down, Harry dear, you must be exhausted after all that training."

Harry sank gratefully into a chair at the kitchen table, accepting the mug of tea with a small smile of thanks. The warmth of the tea seeped into his bones, easing the tension that had been coiling in his muscles.

"I'd recommend a good wash tonight, Harry. A good first impression always helps." Mrs. Weasley suggested, after a short whispered conversation with Moody, "I know you've got your own style you like to keep, but Madam Bones is a very traditional woman, who I'm sure will appreciate a more traditional appearance."

Looking down at his ruffled trench coat, Harry nodded thoughtfully, even if he wasn't sure what else to wear. "I've got my dress robes from last year, would they work?" Harry tried, hoping they would be suitable for the occasion.

Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with reassurance. "Oh, I think they'll do just fine, Harry. If you'd like, I can iron them tonight, make sure they're looking their best."

Feeling a sense of relief at their assurance, Harry made a mental note to locate his dress robes as soon as possible. Despite his nerves about the upcoming hearing, he was incredibly grateful for the support and guidance of Mrs. Weasley and Moody.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, Moody," Harry said sincerely, feeling a surge of gratitude towards them. "I appreciate your help."

"It's no trouble at all, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied warmly, patting Harry's hand affectionately. "We're always here to help you, no matter what."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, Moody," Harry said sincerely, feeling a surge of gratitude towards them. "I appreciate your help."

"It's no trouble at all, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied warmly, patting Harry's hand affectionately. "We're always here to help you, no matter what."

Moody grunted in agreement, his gaze lingering on Harry with a mix of pride and concern. "Just make sure you're ready for tomorrow, Potter. You'll need to be on your toes for that hearing."

Harry nodded, the weight of Moody's words sinking in. "I will be, Moody. I promise."

With a final nod of acknowledgement, Harry bid Mrs. Weasley and Moody goodbye and made his way up to his room. For a while, he simply lay back on his bed, trying to clear his mind, before eventually he sat up again.

Summoning his dress robes from the depths of his pockets, he gave them a once over and banished whatever had been caught up in the fabric. Putting them aside, he wrote one final letter to Lord Greengrass, before he used the fading sunlight to lay out what he wanted for the hearing.

Without his trenchcoat and its expanded pockets immediately available, Harry knew he'd need to be strategic about what defensive items he could bring along.

He rarely removed the skin tight mithril undershirt, but he'd make sure to wear the outer breastplate summoning crystal before he left the next morning.

Equally, the large collection of his weapons were stored within his Gauntlet, which being a part of his arm, he'd have with him. Of what was left, he doubted the basic goblin made sword would be of any good, and he couldn't see how his various books could help in either the hearing or a potential attack.

Finally, he withdrew the Invisibility Cloak, that would arguably be of the most use. That, he placed beneath the dress robes, where he'd fix the two together again once Mrs. Weasley had ironed the robes.

Satisfied with his preparations, Harry placed everything else beside his dress robes. He felt a sense of reassurance knowing that he had some extra protection, even if it was just a precaution.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across his room, Harry made his way downstairs to join the rest of the household for dinner. The warm glow of the kitchen greeted him, along with the comforting aroma of Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

Taking his seat at the table, Harry listened as everyone chattered about their day, trying to distract himself from the looming hearing. Despite their efforts to keep the mood light, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation gnawing at his stomach.

With each passing moment, the hour of the hearing drew closer, and Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling over him. When he and the Weasley children were sent to bed early, he couldn't find it in him to protest, and after nearly an hour of tossing and turning, he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, he rose far too early, and once awake he'd found returning to his sleep impossible. Even the knowledge he had several hours to go before even thinking about leaving for his hearing didn't alleviate the knot of anxiety coiled in his stomach. Harry dragged himself out of bed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion.

Dressing slowly, Harry made his way through the dimly lit halls of the Burrow. Bypassing the quiet kitchen, he descended into the basement, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings of Moody's impromptu training room.

Focusing his will, a flicker of magic danced across his palm as he willed his custom-made changeling spell into existence.

Then, throwing his palm outwards, a tiny grey tinged lightning bolt-shaped burst of energy erupted from his palm, zigzagging across the room with precision until it struck the target dead centre. In an instant, heavy chains erupted from the tiny spell, wrapping around the target and anything else within its reach with a resounding clang.

Without missing a beat, Harry conjured a second now yellow changeling spell, this time sending it on a circular path around the room. The spell struck the target from behind, unleashing a powerful pulse of electricity that caused the chains to crackle with energy before falling still.

Finally, Harry unleashed a third changeling spell, sending the dark green bolt hurtling straight towards the target. The spell exploded upon impact with a deafening noise and blinding flash, finally knocking the target over.

Although the spell itself wasn't new, Moody had helped him refine it into something far more usable than it had been during the third task. The trio of effects were something of an Aurors standard containment, which he'd then incorporated into his changeling spell.

Just as he was about to conjure another spell, the basement door creaked open, and Sirius Black stepped into the dimly lit room. His eyes scanned the targets and the remnants of Harry's attack with keen interest.

"Nice work, Harry," Sirius remarked, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "Have you managed to get more than one of your spells going at once yet?"

Harry looked up, giving a small frown at Sirius's question. "Not yet, but I'm getting closer. With the way Moody's been pushing me to improve, I think I'm making some progress."

"You are making progress. Moody's tough, but he knows what he's doing. He wouldn't have spent so long training Aurors if he wasn't good at what he does. And I doubt he's had a student as brilliant as yourself… and I'd say that even if I wasn't your godfather."

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I feel like I should be further along by now. I mean, Moody's been pushing me hard, and I've been putting in the hours, but..." He trailed off, his gaze falling to the captured target as he struggled to articulate his frustration.

Sirius's expression softened, placing a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay to feel frustrated sometimes. Progress takes time, and mastering magic isn't something that happens overnight. You're doing great, Harry. Genuinely, you're progressing far quicker than either myself or Moody were expecting."

"I've been thinking about that actually," Harry admitted, his brow furrowing in thought as he considered Sirius's words. "When it comes to magical abilities, what would you say the average number of abilities per person is?"

Whistling lightly, Sirius leaned back in thought. "Well, I've got two that I know of, the same as James. But I'd say the average wizard probably only has one useful ability. Then you've got people like Dumbledore, who probably has dozens."

Harry nodded, absorbing Sirius's assessment. "So, having more than one ability is relatively rare?"

Sirius nodded in agreement. "Basically. And of course most people will only have abilities that will be inherited from their family, like my minor Empathovoric ability, and the Potter's have usually got some degree of aerokinesis. But you can learn abilities too, like becoming an animagus.

"It's just that most people don't bother, since while it'll look cool, there's not much use for rare abilities when you're working a regular desk job. I think most of Dumbledore's abilities he picked up during the war against Grindelwald."

"Alright, so having six abilities would be quite uncommon?" Harry hedged.

Sirius chuckled softly, a wistful glint in his eyes. "Oh, definitely. Six abilities would put you in a league of your own, Harry. It's not just rare; it's practically unheard of."

Harry blinked, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crossing his features.

"Why do you ask?"

Harry paused, his thoughts gathering as he considered his response. "Well… I seem to be picking up abilities, just by being exposed to them. For instance, I've always had a knack for wandless magic, which often involved manipulating elements.

"But what's different now is that I've come to realise these abilities aren't natural, and are rarely innate powers. Like, I've always sensed a connection to Aerokinesis, even before I knew it was an actual ability. But then, I started naturally channelling electricity, discovering I have Electrokinesis.

"And after the Quidditch World Cup, my Pyrokinesis seemed to manifest within me. And now, I'm experiencing a similar sensation when I use ice spells, like I'm gaining Cryokinesis."

Sirius's expression grew serious, a weight settling in his gaze. "Harry, these abilities you're developing… they're not something to take lightly. Are you… I mean… When you use these abilities, does it feel forced? Like, you aren't meant to have them?"

"No, no it always just feels natural. As I said, it was hard to distinguish them from just mimicking them with my magic. I was just hoping it's a thing that people have, that I just haven't seen yet."

"Yeah, I've never heard of anyone doing that before. Even from what I've heard about Dumbledore, he had to deliberately seek out knowledge and practice to master his various abilities. It's not something that just happens on its own."

"Should I be concerned?"

Sirius paused, giving Harry a long contemplating look, "Hmm… Nah… I'm sure you'll be fine."

Things I think need explaining:

- Harry's personal Abilities; His full set is: Mithril creation, Air manipulation, Lightning Manipulation, Fire Manipulation, Nicholas' Sigils, and growing Ice manipulation.