A/N: Today (9/30) marks the one year anniversary of this fic's existence! It's been a wild ride, and I'm thrilled with how it's turned out so far. Somehow I've averaged more than one chapter per week, which is insane to me...hopefully life continues to be kind to my schedule and I'm able to keep that pace up! I don't have every chapter planned out from here on, but I suspect we'll end up around the 100 chapter mark by the time we're done. So thanks for sticking with me that long, and here's to another year of productive writing!
Harry procrastinated his planning for the upcoming 'study group' meeting, perhaps half-hoping that everyone would just forget about it in a few days. But over the course of the coming weeks, several people approached him and asked for permission to invite a friend or two, and eagerly awaited word on when the first meeting would be. Besides, his course load was far lighter now that he'd completed three of his O.W.L.'s, so he couldn't use lack of free time as an excuse anymore. He supposed there was no use burying his head in the sand, and planned to hold their first meeting on the first weekend of December.
The problem was, he didn't want dozens of students coming up to him in the halls and asking him for more details about the club. That would only intensify Percy's scrutiny upon him. So he spoke with Neville and Hermione, and they agreed to help him run the club as co-leaders, so that he wasn't the only authority figure in charge. Ideally, people would look to Neville for leadership in the coming war as much as him, so that he could operate in private like he planned. These 'study sessions' would be as much about bolstering his confidence and abilities as a leader as it was teaching students how to fight.
Harry sent out a few last-minute invitations himself, to people he thought might be interested. He invited Cho after Quidditch practice one day, on the condition that Marietta Edgecombe never found out about the club, to which she agreed. He also invited Luna, who happily agreed to come, and the Slytherin trio of Daphne, Tracey and Mark, though they politely declined. Harry figured as much – they usually kept to themselves and maintained a guise of neutrality, preferring not to be seen as associating with Harry publicly. And given what the Prophet was printing lately, he couldn't exactly blame them.
Despite his initial reservations, Harry actually found himself looking forward to the meeting as the date approached. He found that he missed the Dumbledore's Army sessions of his past timeline, and relished in the thought of forging those close bonds with a group anew. He also had new feedback he wished to apply to these sessions...he'd seen first-hand how prepared his group was in the Department of Mysteries, and wanted to make a few tweaks to better acclimate students to the realities of warfare.
Then there was the question of where to hold such a practice session. He originally thought to find an empty classroom somewhere, but with so many planning to be in attendance, plus the desire for secrecy, left only one real option. He had wished to keep the Room of Requirement to himself a little bit longer, but it was now needed by even more people. He couldn't be selfish with it any longer.
He met with Neville, Ron and Hermione half an hour before the meeting was due to begin, and showed them the Room for the first time. "This is remarkable," Hermione breathed, taking in the cavernous space. "I've never read about this room in Hogwarts: A History. Has it really been here all this time?"
"I found it in my first year," Harry fibbed lightly. "You can ask it for anything you need, and if able, it'll provide it for you."
"Anything?" Ron wondered aloud. Harry felt the redhead's magic flare out, and he allowed Ron to take brief control of the room. After a moment, a door appeared in the nearby wall, and when Ron opened it, they found that a passageway had been opened into the kitchens.
"Brilliant!" Ron laughed as a horde of house-elves stumbled over themselves to provide treats for the students. "I could get used to this!"
"Honestly, Ronald, now is not the time to stuff your face," Hermione chastised the boy as he shoved a handful of pumpkin pastries down his throat. "What should we ask it for today, Harry?"
"I have a few ideas," said Harry. Of course he had plans for the usual amenities he utilized in his personal training – moving dummies, safety mats, and the like. But today he had slightly different plans, a regimen that he was sure to be somewhat unpopular. His ample experience in battle had taught him a thing or two about what really matters for survival, and he intended to drill it into his classmates as much as possible whether they liked it or not.
Students began trickling in minutes later, marveling at the room around them. They stood around and chatted until just past seven, at which point Hermione called for quiet and directed their attention to Harry. At once a respectful hush fell over the crowd as they eyed him curiously at the center of the room.
Harry had known it would be a sizable group, but seeing them all together now, he realized for the first time just how many students wanted his tutelage. Most of them had been in Dumbledore's Army in his last timeline, but there were several new faces present too. Nearly thirty in all, each one eagerly awaiting his orders...like his own personal army to command. Harry pushed that egotistical thought aside as he cleared his throat.
"Right," he announced. "I've agreed to give some pointers and defense training to anyone interested. I've only approved the people who are here today, and I'd appreciate if you didn't go spreading around what we do in here to the whole school. Professor Weasley can cause problems for me and my father if he believes I'm training child soldiers in secret." The class chuckled at this.
"I looked up the rules, and we're allowed to run this club without a staff advisor, so long as we're only studying official school curriculum," said Hermione. "So if anyone asks, that's all we're doing in here. That way nobody gets in trouble."
"Everyone interested in joining the group has to sign this sheet," Harry announced, brandishing a sheet of parchment. "If you write your name down, it signifies a binding magical agreement to follow the rules."
"What kind of agreement?" asked a skeptical Susan Bones.
"Nothing too harsh," said Harry. "You just agree not to share the finer details of group activities without mine, Neville's or Hermione's permission."
"Or what?" demanded Cho Chang.
"Or you'll break out in hives for a week," Harry warned. A few whistled at the grim thought, but few knew that Harry had actually requested Hermione to tone down her original ideas of punishment. Permanently scarring students' faces with the word SNEAK still seemed a bit extreme to him.
"Any other questions?" asked Hermione.
"What will our group be called?" asked Angelina Johnson.
"Er...we hadn't worked that bit out yet," said Hermione, biting her lip as she looked to Harry.
"How 'bout Potter's Army?" Damian suggested. A few people murmured in agreement at this.
"Absolutely not," Harry said flatly. That was the last thing he needed people thinking about the club (or getting back to Percy).
"Longbottom's Army?" suggested Ron, looking to Neville. A handful of people seemed supportive of the idea, but Neville himself looked apprehensive.
"We can table the naming for another time," Harry said cautiously. "Anything else?"
Lee Jordan tentatively raised his hand. "Not to accuse you or anything, mate," he said carefully. "But how can we be sure you're telling the truth about everything?"
"Come again?" Harry asked, surprised.
"You know...about You-Know-Who and all," Lee grimaced. "The Daily Prophet swears he's not a threat to us, but you and your dad say he is. How do we know who's right?"
"You'll just have to take our word for it," Harry shrugged. "I'm not interested in proving myself to anybody." Several students looked displeased by this answer; clearly it had been a question playing on many of their minds recently.
"Actually, I had an idea for that," said Hermione anxiously, looking from Neville to Harry. "Is it alright if I take control of the room for a minute?"
"Erm...sure," said Harry. He felt a small mental tug on his magic and allowed it in, giving control of the Room's magic to Hermione. She furrowed her brow in concentration, and the room began to subtly shift. The place began to look somewhat familiar to Harry, though he couldn't place why. It wasn't until he recognized the stone basin at the center of the room – identical to the one in Saul Croaker's secret office – that he realized what Hermione was doing.
"No, Hermione," Harry said flatly. "We're not doing this."
"C'mon, Harry!" Hermione pleaded. "If everyone could just see the memory of that night in the graveyard, it would clear up all the questions and rumors flying around!"
"Hermione...that was the worst day of our lives," Neville muttered, eyeing the Pensieve apprehensively. "You can't ask us to relive it."
"But maybe...maybe you could give us the memory, then step outside for a moment?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"Wait, are you talking about the memory of You-Know-Who returning?" asked Cho Chang. That set off a ripple of gasps and murmurs of mild alarm, but also looks of burning curiosity from the gathered students.
"You see? They all deserve to know what happened," said Hermione. "They deserve to know what they're up against."
"They're not up against Voldemort," said Harry flatly, causing many to cringe and flinch away at the use of the name. "They don't need to see that. It's not pretty, Hermione."
"Harry...please?" asked Katie, sliding up next to him. He could see the fear in her eyes, but also a resolute look of defiance. "You don't have to shoulder this alone. We're in this with you now."
"Yeah, mate," piped up Ron, also looking paler than usual but similarly determined. "Practicing in here won't prepare us for what's out there. We need to know what it's really like."
Harry looked around the room, taking in the faces of everyone gathered around. There were similar expressions on everyone's faces: mild panic at the prospect of seeing Voldemort for themselves, but a desperate need to know, to understand the truth.
He turned finally to Neville, who also looked conflicted. "Your call, mate," Harry said softly to the boy.
Neville considered this for a moment, also eyeing the eager faces watching them from around the room. Eventually, he sighed and nodded in agreement.
Harry drew his wand and placed it to his temple. He slowly pulled it away, dragging a silvery strand of memory along with it. Once it detached itself from his mind, he levitated it over to the stone basin and dropped it in.
"Last warning to leave if you're uncomfortable," Harry announced to the room. "It's not a pretty sight." A few students rocked uncomfortably on their heels at this warning, but nobody moved.
The memory began to swirl within the Pensieve, and as with the one in Saul's office, this one projected the memory all around them. They were in the maze, the final moments of the Third Task playing themselves out before their eyes. Neville turned at once to flee the room, looking distressed; Harry followed, unwilling to leave the boy alone.
Neville exited into the seventh floor hallway and leaned against the opposite wall, sinking to the floor while wringing his hands. Harry took a seat on the ground beside him.
"You alright, Nev?" he asked.
"Yeah, fine," Neville shuddered, not too convincingly.
They sat in silence for some time. Harry was at a loss for what to say to reassure the boy. What could one even say in such a situation? He understood now how difficult it was to talk to somebody who'd been through such trauma, and felt badly for all the people he'd snapped at in his last timeline for asking insensitive questions about his experiences.
"D'you think they'll think less of me when they see it?" Neville asked anxiously.
"What are you talking about?" Harry scoffed. "Why would they?"
"I couldn't fight like you," Neville muttered. "I just got lucky with the wands connecting. It makes me look weak."
"Neville," Harry said adamantly. "You stood your ground against a damn Dark Lord. You overpowered him. I didn't. He kinda kicked my ass, in fact."
"But I don't know how I did it!" Neville protested. "How am I supposed to earn their respect if I can't even explain what I did?"
"You don't have to explain anything," Harry insisted. "It doesn't matter if you feel like you've earned it or not. You stood up to him and survived his Killing Curse twice. People will look to you as a leader for that...as a symbol of hope. As long as you're still fighting, they'll fight alongside you."
Neville looked perturbed by those words. Harry would have, too, in his last lifetime...why should I be forced to be a symbol I didn't ask to be? he probably would have asked. But now, from an outsider's perspective, he understood completely. No matter how powerful Harry became, he couldn't command an army...he had more important things to do, things that required freedom and fewer eyes upon him. Harry's role was to support Neville from the shadows – to make sure others continued to see him as a leader worth following, not himself.
"You'll help me?" Neville asked, looking to Harry with pleading eyes. "I can't do this by myself."
"Always," Harry nodded. "You heard Firenze...our fates are tied, mate. I'm with you until the end."
Neville nodded uncertainly and exhaled. "Thanks, Harry," he said. "I don't know how you seem to know so much about what's going on, but I feel better knowing you're watching my back."
Harry was sorely tempted to divulge his secret with Neville. But it was far too risky now, especially with the direct link to Neville's mind the Dark Lord currently shared. "One day we'll sit down and I'll explain some things to you," Harry said. "There's a lot I haven't told you, or anyone else. But I want that bastard dead more than anyone, and I'll do whatever I can to see it happen."
Neville cocked his head curiously at this. Harry could tell the boy wanted to ask questions, to understand what he meant by that. But he respected Harry's privacy and remained silent.
"How are your Occlumency exercises going?" Harry asked to change the subject.
"Oh...erm, fine," Neville said quickly. "I'm feeling much better now, actually."
"Good to hear," Harry nodded. "Want to do some more practice tonight after we finish with everyone else?"
"Oh, no, I don't think that's necessary," said Neville. "I'm improving on my own, honestly. We can do it some other night."
"Alright," Harry shrugged. He was not sure if he believed Neville or not...was he actually doing better, or did he just not want Harry digging around in his head again after last time? He could sense that Neville didn't want to talk about it either way, so he held his tongue.
After a few minutes, the door cracked open and they were given the all-clear. Neville and Harry stood to return to the Room; the memory had finished playing, and it was deathly quiet as everyone gawked at the two boys, faces filled with mingled shock and awe.
"Blimey...you really fought him," Angelina Johnson breathed. "Both of you."
"It felt so real," muttered Susan Bones. "Like he was really here."
Katie rushed up to Harry, throwing her arms around him. "That must have been horrible," she sniffed. "You could have really died."
"Yeah," Harry muttered. To his right, Ron and Hermione were similarly consoling Neville, who stood rigidly while Hermione squeezed him tight, tears in her eyes. He and Neville locked eyes and shared a look of exasperation – it almost made Harry laugh aloud at the absurdity of the situation. After nearly a decade straight of fighting Voldemort, it was all old-hat to him, and he'd forgotten how obscene it all must seem to a group of literal children.
But in fairness, it wasn't just the younger students who looked perturbed. Cedric approached with a grim expression and clapped Harry on the back. "We've got your back, mate," he said, turning to Neville. "Both of you. Just tell us what to do."
"Hear hear," piped in Fred Weasley, as he and George also drew near. "I'd rather not fight ol' Moldyshorts anytime soon, but I wouldn't mind learning how to make Lucius Malfoy soil his trousers like you made him do there."
Harry chuckled appreciatively at the attempt at levity. He raised his hand to quiet the hushed whispers around the room, and everyone instantly hushed and turned to look at him expectantly.
"I have given a lot of thought to what I ought to teach you today," said Harry. "Not to be boastful, but it took me many years of daily training to get to where I am today, and meeting so infrequently like this will not get you to the dueling ability you need to survive a Death Eater encounter."
"So...you think it's impossible to train us?" Cedric asked, frowning.
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "I just think we will need to take an atypical approach."
"Atypical?" Hermione repeated, also looking confused. He hadn't shared his lesson plans with her either.
"Weasley!" Harry barked, addressing a suddenly fearful-looking Ron. "Step forward. Prepare to fight."
Ron nervously glanced at his peers before doing so. He stepped into the open space and drew his wand, trembling slightly at the sight of Harry doing the same.
"On three," said Harry. "One, two, three."
Harry sent a non-verbal Disarming Charm at Ron, who was unprepared for it; his wand clattered aside, leaving him defenseless. Ron's shoulders sagged as the students half-heartedly clapped for him.
"Where are you going, Ron?" Harry demanded as Ron began to slink off to retrieve his wand. "The fight isn't over."
"Erm...isn't it?" Ron asked. "You disarmed me. You won the duel."
"If this was a sanctioned duel, you'd be correct," Harry said. "But this is life or death. Now, attack me."
"But I can't," Ron said dumbly. "I haven't got my wand."
"Dursley!" Harry barked, pointing to a surprised Damian off to one side. "Step forward. Prepare to fight."
Damian did so, also looking confused. This time, Harry didn't even give him a countdown before disarming him, leaving him wandless beside Ron.
"You've lost your wand in battle, Damian," said Harry. "How would you attack me?"
"With my bloody knuckles, that's how," Damian spat. The crowd laughed at this quip.
"Why are you all laughing?" Harry demanded. "Damian's right. Just because you have no wand doesn't mean you are powerless."
"But you can't cast spells without a wand," piped up Neville.
"Does anyone here know how Gilderoy Lockhart was captured last term?" Harry demanded.
"The Aurors got him, didn't they?" asked Ginny Weasley.
"Nope," Harry shook his head. "Damian here tackled him to the ground after he used the Killing Curse on Professor Trelawney."
"But...but I wasn't thinking straight," Damian muttered. "He just didn't expect it, is all."
"And why would he?" Harry shrugged. "Lockhart was raised by wizards. Muggle fighting would have been seen as beneath him. But you weren't raised my wizards, were you, Damian? You were taught to use every tool at your disposal in a fight, with or without magic."
"Damn right," Damian said proudly, crackling his knuckles menacingly.
"What do most Death Eaters have in common?" Harry demanded of the gathered crowd. Nobody answered, until Cedric raised his hand, suddenly understanding the point.
"They're pure-bloods," said Cedric.
"Correct," said Harry. "They grew up being taught that magic is might, and that Muggle tactics are beneath them. They would never expect someone to use their bare hands in a fight, and I reckon one good punch to the jaw would drop most of them."
"But Harry...none of us know how to fight the Muggle way," Fred pointed out.
"Which is why Damian is going to teach us," Harry said matter-of-factly. "You took wrestling lessons growing up, didn't you?"
Damian looked nervous at the implication. "B-but I'm the youngest one here," he protested.
"And you captured Gilderoy Lockhart when even Albus Dumbledore failed to do so," Harry appraised him. "People underestimate you, just like Death Eaters will underestimate all of us in a fight. We're going to use that to our advantage."
Most looked skeptical of this approach, but everyone gathered around as Harry beckoned Damian forward for a demonstration. He positioned the smaller (but much stockier) boy at his right hip and placed him in a gentle headlock.
"Now, I'm a Death Eater who has just taken you hostage," said Harry. "You have no wand to defend yourself. How would you get out of this situation?"
Damian hesitated for a moment. "D'you want me to actually do it, or just tell you?" he asked.
"Surprise me," Harry shrugged. "That way everyone can see how you would handle this in a real—"
Without warning, Damian locked Harry's leg in his and twisted hard, throwing his weight forwards. Harry was launched head over heels, doing an involuntary front flip over his cousin's shoulders and landing flat on his back with a loud smack. The crowd of onlookers gave a collective oohhh of surprise at the sudden turn of events.
"Alright there, cuz?" Damian quipped as he leaned over Harry's prone form.
"Brilliant," Harry wheezed, giving himself a moment for the stars to clear from his peripherals. He gingerly sat up as the crowd politely clapped for his demonstration. "Why don't you explain what just happened, step by step, so I don't have to do that again?"
Harry stood and resumed the headlock position behind Damian, allowing the younger boy to explain how he'd thrown Harry off. He seemed to gain confidence after demonstrating its effectiveness, as even the oldest students listened attentively to the young third-year explain his methods.
"Right," said Harry. "I reckon we should split into pairs and practice, taking turns between escaping and holding. Damian, want to walk around and correct people's form?"
"Alright," said Damian, glowing with pride at being deputized in such a way. Students began to partner up, pairing themselves roughly by height, weight and gender. There was a slight mismatch, so Harry wound up with Katie, leading to a few wolf whistles that they both responded to with rude hand gestures.
"Dear me, Mr. Potter, won't you at least buy me dinner first?" Katie quipped as Harry knelt over her with an arm around her throat.
"Very funny," Harry muttered. "Seriously though, you need to learn this. It's very likely you'll be outmatched physically in a situation like this."
"Luckily for me," said Katie, "there's one other thing most Death Eaters have in common."
"What's that?"
"They're men," Katie grinned. And she drove her heel upwards, slamming it home directly between Harry's legs. He saw stars for the second time in a row, grunting in agony as he released her and sank to the ground, clutching his groin.
"Nice one, Bell!" Damian appraised her as he strolled past. "Rule one of self defense for ladies is to fight dirty."
"Thanks, Damian!" Katie grinned, giving the younger boy a high-five as he passed, before leaning over her boyfriend with a smirk. "Need a hand up, Harry dearest?"
"I think I'll just stay here, thanks though," Harry groaned from his fetal position on the floor, drawing laughs of pity from the surrounding groups.
A few minutes later, as Harry and Katie resumed the exercise, they were interrupted by a loud shout of pain. Harry stood and hurried over to the source of the commotion; George Weasley was rolling around on the ground, clutching his shoulder, as Fred knelt beside him.
"Heard something pop," Fred muttered. "Think it might be dislocated."
"Dahlia!" Harry barked. His sister hurried over, kneeling at George's side. "Do you know the incantation to fix this?"
"Of course," Dahlia muttered, drawing her wand, but as she leaned down to repair the damage, Harry grabbed her arm.
"Say it out loud, so we can all hear it," said Harry.
Dahlia frowned, but acquiesced as everyone gathered around to watch. "Humero reponere," she intoned, waving her wand over George's shoulder. A warm, white glow emanated from the spot, and George quit writhing around at once, sitting up to examine her handiwork.
"Thanks, Potter," he said to Dahlia, rolling his shoulder back and forth to test it. "Good as new."
"Dahlia here is going to teach us some basic Healing magic as well," Harry announced. "Just enough for combat purposes...broken bones, bleeding wounds, severe burns and so forth."
"But the healing might be imperfect if the spell isn't cast properly," Dahlia protested.
"There may not be anyone to save you in a real battle," Harry pointed out. "Would you rather be lying there helpless with a broken leg, or learn how to patch it up enough to be able to stand and rejoin the fight?" Harry remembered Ginny Weasley in his last timeline, breaking her ankle in the Department of Mysteries and forcing somebody else to help her at all times. If she'd known how to mend it herself, that might not have happened.
Once George indicated that he was good to continue, Harry directed everyone back to their pairs to continue the exercise. "Time out, Potter," huffed Ron, who was bent double and panting from the physical exertion they'd been put under. "Not all of us are used to beating ourselves up every day."
"That's another important thing to talk about," said Harry. "Conditioning. You need to be able to move fast and decisively to get out of trouble. Most Death Eaters won't be used to chasing down children and will tire easily. If you can outrun them, you may avoid conflict altogether."
"I thought this was going to be practicing spells and such," complained Dahlia. "Now you're making us exercise?"
"Most witches and wizards neglect their physical fitness," said Harry. "They can use magic for anything they need, so why bother exerting energy? That's another advantage we have over the adults: we're used to walking up and down stairs in the castle all day. If we put in the extra effort to build up our stamina, we can outwork them, plain and simple."
Many of the students groaned at this notion. Harry knew that this wasn't what they'd signed up for...clearly they'd expected something closer to the Dueling Club than such pedestrian exercises. But he also knew what real battle was like, and truthfully, it wasn't much different from Muggle warfare. Accuracy with a wand was important, sure, but equally so was situational awareness, physical fitness, and the ability to improvise when things go wrong. And he intended to drill such concepts into them.
Harry called an end to the exercise half an hour later, drawing sighs of relief from the exhausted participants. Many of them sported bumps and bruises from the rough activity, which was perfect for the next item on his agenda. He had Dahlia teach everyone how to cast an Anti-Inflammation Charm and how to stitch up minor cuts. It was far from the most severe injuries they would face in a real battle, but a perfect starting point to learn basic medicinal magic.
To conclude the lesson, Harry summoned a row of target dummies and had students take turns firing Stunning Spells at them. He was once again glad he'd chosen to start with the fundamentals; most of their shots were far off-target, their lack of discipline combining with their physical fatigue to affect their aim.
"I don't care if you're tired!" Harry shouted as student after student groaned in frustration at their lack of success. "A Death Eater will still be trying to kill you even if you just got done sprinting a marathon! You have to get used to performing your best under less-than-ideal circumstances if you want to survive."
Harry could feel the resentment building towards him as he drilled every student on their sloppy technique. That was fine...he wasn't here to be their friend. He would be the bad cop who instilled discipline into them, and Neville could swoop in and be the hero they flock towards. They would thank him later for his tough approach when they were in the thick of battle, where only their instincts stood between them and imminent death.
At the meeting's conclusion, Harry gave them all the same homework assignment he'd given Neville: target practice for at least fifteen minutes a day. Hopefully they all actually did the homework, because next week he would start training them on dueling techniques, and he didn't want to see errant spells flying about the room then.
"Don't forget to sign the parchment before you go!" Hermione reminded everyone. A few looked hesitant to do so – in addition to the threat of physical ailment if they reneged on the deal, most clearly hadn't had as much fun today as they expected. Still, not a single person refrained from signing before trudging out of the Room towards their dorms, completely spent.
"I think that went well," Harry nodded in satisfaction. The trio murmured in vague agreement; Hermione was propped up against one wall, legs wobbling, while Neville and Ron didn't even bother with appearances, limbs splayed outwards as they lay flat on their backs on the ground.
"Not all of us are Quidditch athletes, Harry," Neville wheezed. "I think I'd die if you asked me to fight right now."
"You would," Harry agreed. "And that's the whole point, isn't it? To prepare you all for what's coming. This is child's play compared to what real battle is like."
"We know, mate," Ron huffed. "That's why we're here. Just let us have this moment to wallow, will ya?"
Harry chuckled, and left the Room soon after to return to Ravenclaw Tower. He came across Luna just down the hall, sitting on the bottom step of a stairway, massaging her ankles.
"Hello there, Harry," she greeted him with a weak smile. "Just catching my breath."
"Want a hand?" Harry offered. She accepted, legs wobbling as Harry pulled her upright and led the way back to their dorms, Luna leaning heavily against his arm for support.
"That was quite illuminating," Luna remarked. "I never realized just how hard you worked to prepare for battle."
"It's not something I do just for fun," Harry agreed. "Do you think it will be helpful?"
"Yes, I do. We all do, I imagine, or we wouldn't have come, would we?"
"I guess," Harry chuckled. "We'll see how many actually show up to the second meeting, I suppose."
"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," Luna said matter-of-factly. It was moments like these that Harry wondered if Luna was just trying to make him feel better, or if she had actual premonitions about the future. It was part of what endeared him to the girl so much.
It also reminded him that he hadn't checked in with her progress in a while. "How are you enjoying Divination this year?" he asked. "Firenze is quite interesting, don't you think?"
"He truly is," Luna agreed. "He has taken special interest in me this year, I think. He showed me some extra techniques and exercises to 'expand my awareness', as he put it."
"Huh. And do you think they've helped?"
"Maybe," Luna shrugged noncommittally. Harry winced; he hated to see her so self-conscious and unconfident in her abilities. He needed to encourage her to embrace her gifts.
"Don't doubt yourself, Luna," he assured her. "You've told me things that nobody could have possibly known about the future. Have you had any odd premonitions lately? Or just bad feelings you can't shake?"
Luna pondered this in silence for a moment. "I worry about your father sometimes," she admitted. "I've never met him, of course, but whenever I think of him, I fear something bad may happen to him."
Harry sighed; he was afraid of that. "You think he's going to get sacked?" he asked. "He's been in a lot of hot water with Fudge lately."
"It's hard to describe in words," Luna said, brow furrowed in concentration. "It feels like...he's going to take the fall for somebody else. Someone who deserves it more."
Harry frowned at this disturbing thought. "What d'you mean, 'take the fall'?" he asked. "Like literally, or figuratively?"
"Firenze says we shouldn't think in terms of metaphor," said Luna. "But I don't know how to describe it any better than that."
Harry mulled this over. Take the fall for somebody else...did that mean him? Would James be punished for something Harry did? That was the fear that had plagued Harry all term, a fear that it seemed may in fact be well-founded. If he became the reason James was fired as an Auror, he didn't know if he could forgive himself. He resolved to keep his head down and stay out of trouble to reduce the chances of that happening.
Despite Luna's disturbing warning, Harry found himself in a particularly good mood as the winter term drew to a close. He finally had a firm handle on his homework, and was on good terms with all of his classmates again, able to spend his free time enjoying their company. Several attendees of the defense meeting approached him in the coming weeks to say how inspired they'd become to get fit and work on their spell-casting, and on multiple occasions Harry stumbled across somebody working on their accuracy in an empty classroom. It felt good to know he hadn't scared anyone away with his strict regimen.
As the winter term drew to a close, Harry arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast to discover a commotion over at the Gryffindor table. Curious, he wandered over in that direction, only to see students walking up to Dahlia to offer her hugs and words of congratulation. "What's going on?" he asked as he approached.
"Mum did it!" Dahlia beamed, waving a copy of the Daily Prophet at him before launching herself at him with a hug. "She actually did it!"
"Did what?" Harry asked, accepting the paper as a giddy Dahlia returned to celebrating with her friends. He took in the headline and beamed:
REVOLUTIONARY WEREWOLF CURE APPROVED FOR CONSUMPTION
By Sabrina Vane, The Daily Prophet
'Last night, the Department of Regulations for Magical Potions announced their approval of a new recipe designed to cure lycanthropy. Recent testing on human subjects has proven to be 100% effective and safe for consumption, suggesting a future in which the werewolf scourge may be eradicated from our society once and for all.
The breakthrough formula was discovered by newly-minted Potions Master Lily Evans-Potter, who provided the following statement to the Prophet:
"I would like to thank the Ministry for accepting our application and allowing access to our life-changing potion for werewolves across Britain (and the world). We have managed to secure overseas funding to ensure that anyone afflicted with this horrible disease can get the instant relief they deserve free of charge, and we encourage any and all werewolves to apply for immediate treatment. Thank you to Remus Lupin for his assistance and inspiration for the project, and thanks also to Severus Snape for his constant mentorship and advice throughout the testing process. I couldn't have done it without you, Sev."
The potion is currently being mass-produced and will be available starting early next year. The Prophet joins the public in thanking Master Evans-Potter for her miraculous cure, which will change the lives of hundreds of registered British werewolves (and many thousands more beyond). Her contribution to society will be remembered for generations to come.
It only calls into further question why Mrs. Evans-Potter remains married to James Potter, one of the more controversial and instigatory figures in our world. He continues to face criticism for his failures to keep our people safe, including a string of recent vandalisms in Diagon Alley, which—' (more on pg. 8)
Harry tossed the paper aside, not interested in hearing more slanderous nonsense about his father. This was a celebratory day! He knew just how much this would mean to his mother – the culmination of years of hard work, finally paying off and earning her worldwide recognition. He returned to the Ravenclaw table, where more people who had read the article offered congratulations of their own. Even Percy's antics during that morning's DADA lesson couldn't dampen his good mood.
It was moments like this that reminded Harry just how lucky he was. If it weren't for the threat of war looming outside the castle, Harry thought he might just be having the ideal Hogwarts experience. He was on top of his class academically, captain of the Quidditch team, and clearly popular among his peers. People looked up to him and respected him, even the older students, who recognized that he was on the fast track to a position of power within their society. And most importantly, he had a family who loved him, a family he was unbelievably proud to call his.
This is what I came back for, Harry thought to himself. The chance to do it all again the right way. And I'm actually pulling it off.
He should have known better than to get lulled into a false sense of complacency.
On the final night of term before returning home for the holidays, Harry was awoken quite suddenly by a frantic hand shaking his shoulder. He bolted upright, reaching for his wand, wondering who had gotten through the defensive wards around his bed—
"Relax, Harry," said the calming voice of Professor Flitwick. "I need you to come with me."
Flitwick handed him his glasses, and when the diminutive professor's face came into clarity, Harry clearly saw the worry and fear etched in his wizened face.
"Sir…?" Harry asked tentatively. "Is something the matter?"
"Quickly, my boy," said Flitwick, hurrying towards the door and beckoning for Harry to follow. He did so, grabbing his wand and a sweater before exiting the dorm.
Harry followed Flitwick all the way to Dumbledore's office, still blinking away sleep and wondering what on earth could be the matter. The professor led the way up the spiral steps and into the Headmaster's office, which to Harry's surprise was full of people. And the sight made his heart drop.
Seated in the nearest armchair was his own sister Dahlia, trembling and rocking forward and backward while clutching herself tightly. Standing in the corner was Neville, flanked on either side by Mark Davis and Severus Snape. And pacing to and fro behind his desk was Dumbledore himself, looking quite worried.
Harry met eyes with Neville at once, and saw the terrified look in the boy's expression. And Harry realized that, in the excitement of the last few weeks, he had made a huge mistake.
Bloody hell, he thought. I forgot about the snake attack.
"Harry, please have a seat," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the empty chair beside Dahlia's. Instead, Harry squeezed in next to his sister, and she curled up into his lap, clutching him tightly for support.
"Who?" Harry asked at once as he gently stroked her hair. He already suspected what had happened.
Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment before answering. "Your father was attacked earlier this evening," he said. "You know where he was stationed, what he was guarding—"
"The thing that doesn't matter?" Harry answered, doing his best to keep his anger in check. "In the place that isn't actually in any danger?"
"I know you and I have had our differences on this matter—" Dumbledore said placatingly.
"Never mind that now," Harry muttered...no need to upset Dahlia further. "What's happened? Is he alive?"
"Barely," Dumbledore said grimly. "He is being treated at St. Mungo's as we speak. If it weren't for Neville here, we may not have found him in time."
"He just woke up and started thrashing about in his bed," said Mark, his face white with shock. "I ran and found Professor Snape as soon as I could."
"And it is a good thing you did," Dumbledore nodded. "Your efforts may have saved Auror Potter's life."
"But I don't understand," Mark muttered. "How would Neville know? Auror Potter doesn't work in the castle anymore…"
"I'm afraid the answer to that question is rather complicated, Mr. Davis," Dumbledore grimaced. "And I would ask that you keep the finer details to yourself for now. Severus, will you please escort Mr. Davis back to his dorm?"
Snape nodded and gestured for the sixth-year boy to follow him out of the office. Mark gave Neville a reassuring pat on the back before doing so, leaving Neville, Harry and Dahlia alone with the Headmaster.
"I'm s-sorry H-Harry," Neville said weakly, looking desperately guilty. "I t-tried to keep him out of my head, like you taught me, but it j-just overwhelmed me—"
"I don't blame you, Neville," Harry said at once. "It wasn't you that did this."
"I wish to clarify a few things from your vision tonight, Neville," said Dumbledore, still pacing to and fro behind his desk. "Can you explain everything again, from the beginning?"
Neville gulped and took a deep breath before nodding. "I...had a vision, in my dreams," he began. "Of that door, in the Department of Mysteries. I've told you about them before."
"You have," Dumbledore nodded.
"Only this time…" said Neville, looking hesitant. "There was a snake there. And it was...hunting for something. And it sensed someone nearby – someone invisible. And it attacked, and I saw that it was Mr. Potter."
Harry realized the source of Neville's hesitation. He, too, had been reluctant to admit the truth of what he'd seen in his original timeline: a first-person view of the attack, from the snake's perspective. As though he himself was the snake, desperate to rip into and kill Arthur Weasley. Only now, it had been his own father that was unfortunate enough to be on duty this evening.
"Can you be a bit more specific?" Dumbledore asked, pausing to stare out the window onto the grounds. "How exactly were you viewing the scene? Were you floating overhead, or viewing from another perspective?"
Neville paused and glanced at the Potters nervously. Harry suddenly realized the dangerous turn this conversation had taken. Dumbledore can't know, he thought. Nagini may be a horcrux. And this could tip Dumbledore off to the fact that Neville is one, too. Was this the critical point in his last timeline that had sealed his fate? Had Dumbledore realized the truth about Harry's scar and begun scheming to have him killed in action? Would this irrevocably change the way the man viewed Neville?
Harry deliberately made eye contact with Neville and frantically shook his head no. Neville's eyes went wide, but he seemed to understand Harry's non-verbal message. He cleared his throat before addressing the Headmaster again.
"I-I guess it was from above, like you suggested," Neville muttered. "K-kinda like I was floating over the scene from afar."
Dumbledore spun around to view Neville at this statement. There was surprise, even confusion in his face for the briefest of moments, before he schooled his features to resume his impassive demeanor.
"How strange," Dumbledore muttered, looking troubled. "Please, continue."
"That's...that's it, basically," Neville finished lamely. "Then my dorm mates were waking me up, and I knew I had to tell someone."
Dumbledore said nothing for a long while, staring out onto the grounds. Harry wondered what was going through the man's head...clearly he had not anticipated Neville's response. Did he have his suspicions about Neville's scar beforehand? Had Neville's lie thrown him off the scent, or would he know that it was not what had actually happened?
"Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore suddenly, turning to face Harry. "Have you been training Neville in Occlumency like we discussed?"
"Yes, sir," Harry gulped. "Once a week, like you requested."
"And has it helped?" Dumbledore asked, addressing Neville.
"Erm...some," Neville muttered. "I thought I was making progress...until tonight, that is."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I'm afraid the time has come to turn things over to Professor Snape," he said. "Your efforts are much appreciated, Harry, but we need to let an expert handle things from here."
Neville let out an involuntary whimper of fear, and Harry's stomach dropped. He'd done all he could to keep Neville out of Snape's grasp, remembering just how unpleasant the man's private tutoring had been. But perhaps he'd done enough to help Neville survive the worst of it. And maybe, without Snape's burning hatred of his father looming overhead, Neville might not draw his wrath quite like Harry had.
"As for you two," Dumbledore continued, motioning to Harry and Dahlia, "you are free to go directly to St. Mungo's to be with your family. You may use my Floo."
"Thank you, sir," Harry nodded. "We'll speak over break, Neville, yeah?"
"Okay," Neville muttered forlornly. Harry nudged Dahlia, indicating that she should stand, but she remained coiled in his lap, shaking and trying desperately not to cry. So he instead scooped her up in his arms and walked her directly to the fireplace. Dumbledore helpfully grabbed powder from the urn and activated it for them.
"St. Mungo's!" Harry announced, stepping through the green flames with his sister, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.