Against the Tide

It occurred to Harry that the Hogwarts teaching staff must have had a particularly bad winter holiday. It seemed that all throughout the Castle, students were given detentions or had House points taken for rather minor infractions. Ron and Hermione had even complained to Dumbledore about the situation, claiming that certain Professors were on a vendetta against certain students. Even Professor McGonagall was noted as a violator, and it seemed she was giving lengthy detentions to certain Scottish students for very little reason. Or rather, there was plenty of reason, if one counted that they came from powerful Scottish clans, but little reason if you considered the majority had done nothing more that speak loudly in the halls.

Morag was one such student who whiled her evenings away in detention for the first week of term. "It isn't McGonagall herself," she had told Harry and Hermione during a free moment in Defence, "but her brother, the McGonagall clan chief. That man is power hungry, and everyone knows he's been pressuring his sister to control the Scottish Hogwarts students for years. With everything that's happening, what with the Ministry closing our Branch and all, it's only natural that McGonagall would crack. At least she's being fair about it, and punishing us all equally," Morag reasoned with a shrug and returned to scrubbing the stone floor of the Owlery with senior members of the MacTavish and Gordon clans.

McGonagall's decision to crackdown on scheming among the Scottish students didn't seem to stop the bickering among the clans represented at Hogwarts, though. At mealtimes, in the library, in the halls, they could be seen conspiring or whispering among their respective camps. Morag was the leader of one camp, and Hamish Campbell, another Slytherin, led the other. Natalie McDonald, a Gryffindor fourth-year, was sent to the hospital wing after one of Hamish's goons attacked her in the halls, cursing her badly. The boy, Alex Hamilton, had been given detention by Ron, but had later been sent to the hospital wing as well.

"It's getting impossible to mediate," Hermione complained bitterly one late night while Ron and Harry scrambled to finish an impossible Transfiguration essay. Hermione was working on the Potions essay that wasn't due for a week, and Harry reminded himself to borrow it later. "Nothing works and not one bit of it makes sense. How can they hope to convince the British Ministry that they deserve sovereignty if they can't even stop fighting each other?"

"Hermione, what's the definition of a Conjuring Spell again? I can't remember it for the life of me!" Ron asked. Hermione turned Ron's Transfiguration textbook to the back glossary and glared at him. Grinning, he said, "I doubt the Ministry is going to grant or not grant independence based on how the students act. I just can't believe that they're fighting amongst themselves when they could be fighting Fudge."

"Well, the Daily Prophet doesn't seem to think Fudge will last much longer," Hermione said, referencing the Prophet's front-page story that morning. It claimed that support for Fudge among the Wizengamot- the body that approved Ministers for Magic- was at an all-time low, and that with the Scottish wizards quitting their positions in protest, they would force the Ministry to grant independence. If that happened, Fudge could not remain Minister for Magic. "I can't believe we didn't think to cover the same thing in the Hornblower!"

"Relax, Hermione," Harry said. "We put out a great issue last weekend. And I can't see any evidence that the Ministry is crumbling internally. They've been repelling every Death Eater attack and capturing them all over the place. They've had to send criminals to prisons all over Europe just to house all the Death Eaters in Azkaban."

January had been a month of good news in Britain, even with all the logistical and internal problems. Sirius's return from beyond the veil added to the sense that things were going well. Everyone knew now that he hadn't committed the crimes that he'd been punished for, and everyone believed that the Ministry had managed to bring him back. That, combined with a low death rate from Death Eater attacks and the information the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was extracting from the Death Eaters, gave people a reason to take heart.

"Yes, well, that's because Madam Bones and Dad have been reforming the Department daily. They're staying one step ahead of Voldemort, that's what the Prophet says." Ron blew onto his essay, trying to dry the ink. "Take a look at this, will you, Hermione? I think I've got it."

"Take a look at it?" Hermione raged, her eyes a bit wild. "I have to work on my next editorial! The Prophet is gaining new subscriptions everyday, and the Hornblower hasn't sold a new subscription in two weeks!"

"Hermione, you're never going to get the Prophet's numbers. You know that," Harry said. "You know all they do is legitimise whoever seems to be holding power in the Ministry, and that's what people want to read about. The Hornblower is an alternative voice, that's what you said when we started up. If we outsold the Prophet, we wouldn't be the alternative."

Hermione looked at him crossly and then sighed. "I know what I said; I'm just not sure I meant it even then. I want the Hornblower to be more than just a student newspaper. I want it to be respected."

"Hermione, it is respected," Ron insisted with a sigh. He rolled his essay, even though Hermione hadn't checked it, and turned to her. With a steady voice, he said, "The Wizengamot is all subscribed; every Department Head has a subscription too; the Prophet and the Irish Free Press both reprint our stories and editorials," Ron said. "Your paper is right there with the Prophet in any waiting room or tea shop in Britain. What more do you want?"

"Glory?" Hermione suggested, a smart smirk on her face. "Give me your essay, Ronald. I'll look it over." Ron hastily unfurled the parchment and passed it to her, cursing at the smudges of ink.

"It doesn't matter anyway, Hermione," Harry said. "We'll be leaving Hogwarts at the end of term, and the Hornblower will be in the hands of Luna and Ginny then. Besides, we've more important things to do," he said, rising from the armchair. "Don't forget we've got DA practice in the morning."

Ron groaned and Hermione gave Harry very pained looks. The structure of the DA hadn't changed much for the winter term, but the membership had dropped. Most Slytherins had dropped out, noting that hostilities between the older Gryffindor and Slytherin students had re-emerged. Malfoy and Blaise's engagement had destroyed any semblance of goodwill between the outraged Gryffindors and the shocked Slytherins. The younger students of Slytherin noticed the diplomatic chill and reacted accordingly, dropping the DA en masse.

The fourth-year practices were the hardest of all. The fourth-year Slytherins had, by and large, chosen to remain in the DA, and often it seemed they had made that choice simply to make Harry's life a living hell.

"Bole! Stop that, you little berk," Colin Creevey shouted the next morning, rushing across the practice room and tearing Hubertus Bole from Kelly Perks, a pretty red-head he happened to fancy. She refused to even speak to the pimply, short boy, and he didn't seem to understand why. "Get out, Bole!" Colin demanded, countering the curse Bole had cast.

Bole left, sniggering, and two of his friends left with him. Perks decided to see Madam Pomfrey for a Cooling Poultice, and all the Hufflepuff girls went with her. The Ravenclaw students decided that they understood the basics of the Steaming Spell and left to study for a Potions test on Monday. The remaining students looked about, looked at each other, and filed off, making plans for the Gobstone tournament to end all Gobstone tournaments.

"Utter failure," Harry moaned, sinking against the stone wall and placing his head in his hands. "How many more practices do you reckon before no one bothers to come back?"

"Two or three more like that, and even I won't show up," Susan Bones said as she and Ginny each grasped an arm and hauled Harry to his feet. "It'll get better, though. Bole won't come back."

"Neither will Perks though," Ron claimed. "And if Perks doesn't, neither will any of the Hufflepuffs, will they, Susan?"

"No," Susan said quietly, taking Ron's hand in hers. "I'm sorry, Harry. You still have the older Hufflepuffs, though. That's something, isn't it? They'll still come."

"I suppose," he said. But he needed an army! That's what Dumbledore had said. He needed troops. "It's something," he muttered, turning the corner to Gryffindor Tower. Susan, Ron and Ginny all waved good-bye on their way to the library. Harry knew he should go with them and study, but he couldn't bring himself to. In fact, all he wanted to do was sit in an armchair by the fire and curse things.

"Heya, Harry," a voice said, coming up behind him.

"Hi, Colin," Harry replied, not looking to verify the boy's identity nor to hide the misery in his voice. He just wasn't up to the exuberance Colin managed everyday.

"So, Harry, I, uh, have to stop with the DA. Sorry, but-" Colin broke off mid-sentence when Harry whipped around to face him.

He was sure his jaw had hit the ground. Staring at the small boy in horror, it took Harry a moment before he found his voice. "What? Leave? But, why?"

"I haven't the time, really, and it isn't working out, is it? I'm working with Lavender Brown on a special project, and it's taking a lot of my spare time. I'm not a good enough student to do the project, the DA, the Hornblower and still keep up my work."

"Yes, but to stop helping the younger students? Are you sure, Colin?" Hermione asked, joining the conversation. She was speaking to Colin, but she was giving Harry a very odd look.

"Um, well, I meant I'd be stopping altogether," Colin said, his face turning a bright red. He avoided Harry's eye. "I'm- sorry, Harry. Really." With that, Colin Creevey ran off and out of sight.

"Did he say altogether?" Harry asked, dazed.

Quietly Hermione said, "Yes." She and Harry slid on to a bench.

"Colin Creevey has given up on the DA. He's- he's lost faith in me!" If Colin fucking Creevey wouldn't be in the DA, if he wouldn't even stand beside him now, there was no chance to build the army Dumbledore told him he would need. Colin Creevey had been as loyal to Harry as any one person could be; if he wasn't willing to continue on, to fight with Harry, there was no point to any of it.

"Shit."

**

The Hufflepuff-Gryffindor Quidditch match was played on a frozen, stormy day in late January. Harry had a hard time controlling his Firebolt due to the strong gusts of wind that drove ice pellets into his face. Thankfully, Ginny and the other Gryffindor Chasers did a much better job than Harry and by the time he finally caught the Snitch, Gryffindor had won the game, 300-90.

"Good job, Harry," Ron shouted as they landed. Usually after a win, the pitch would be crowded with cheering students. Today, however, the pitch was nearly empty, the cheering fans rushing toward the school to get out of the temperamental weather. "I thought for sure Madam Hooch was going to cancel the match after Gudgeon was blown off his broom."

"Lucky the wind carried him toward the professors," Harry replied as he pulled his boots from his broom; the icy rain had frozen them in place. "Let's get in, shall we?" Harry asked, bending his body away from the wind and rushing toward the school. Ron quickly overtook him, but both he and Hermione were hunched over by the entrance of the school, waiting for him when he caught up. "Are you mad? Inside!" Harry called as he stumbled up the stairs.

"Harry," Hermione called into the wind. "Sirius is here to see you. In Dumbledore's office!"

Harry crashed through the big doors, tossing his broom at a perplexed third-year loitering in the Entrance Hall. He was halfway up the stairs to the first floor when he paused to look behind. Hermione and Ron were still standing near the doors to the Great Hall.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked.

"Dumbledore told us not to," Hermione answered. "We'll be waiting for you in the common room." Harry stood in indecision for a moment, and then tore his way toward the Headmaster's office.

Sirius was sitting in a comfortable armchair in the office, trading insults with his ancestor, Phineas Nigellus. When Harry burst in, out of breath, the portrait gave a huffy sniff and sat stiffly in his chair.

"Harry!" Sirius cried, catching him roughly into a strong hug. Pulling back, his godfather smiled. "I managed to watch a bit of the match. Very good."

"I've got a great broom," Harry said with a wink. "How are you?"

"Better," Sirius said happily, sprawling back into the armchair he had been sitting in when Harry had arrived. He looked better: well-fed, if still a bit scrawny, and his skin no longer held the pallor of sickliness it had since Harry had first met him. His beard was gone and even his hair was trimmed. "Much better, actually."

"You look it," Harry said as he took a seat across from him. Try as he might, he wasn't able to lounge with quite the same flair as Sirius. "What are your plans?"

"Well, I've a pile of gold, a house to sell, and a flying motorcycle to reacquaint myself with." Sirius gave a grin. "I figured I'd be of service to the Order, maybe see if the Ministry wants me, which I'm sure they don't. Have a few tragically flawed love affairs until I find someone to reform me..."

"That might be the first time I've ever heard someone say they want their heart broken," Harry laughed.

"Who said I'd be the one with a broken heart?" Sirius asked, insulted. "Honestly, Harry." The two sat, grinning at each other for several long moments. "It's good to see you, Harry. You can't imagine how hard the last few weeks have been, being so close, but so far away."

"Yes, I can," Harry answered.

"No, not the way I mean, Harry. I have something I need to tell you, something about your parents." Sirius paused, turning toward the window, a look of yearning on his face, before continuing. "About their deaths."

Silence crept through Harry as Sirius peered at him, looking for a reaction.

Finally, Harry asked, "What more is there to know?" He honestly didn't want to know a different version of events than what he knew. His father had tried to waylay Voldemort, had failed, and his mother had died protecting him. Harry supposed that if one's parents must be murdered, that was the best way for them to go.

"Well, not so much how they died, but why," Sirius amended. "Haven't you ever wondered what was so different about that night, that they suddenly could not survive an attack after living through three already?"

"No," Harry said dumbly. "I never did wonder. Should I have?"

"Well, no. That would be classified as morbid curiosity," he said. "I spent a year and a half with them, Harry. Time seems different there- I would have sworn I had been there for all eternity and that I'd remain for all the rest of it. I had a feeling you'd manage to contact me, but even that possibility seemed so far off, it didn't really register.

"If I had known," he continued wistfully, "I would have spent more time with my brother, I suppose. And I would have sought out Godric Gryffindor and the other Founders, just to say I had met them," he said with an irrepressible grin. "A few other of the famous ones, too."

"What's it like?" Harry asked. He supposed that it was a natural question, and not too morbid.

"Its- odd. Very odd. Physically it looks like this world, but it isn't a bit crowded. I suppose that's a trick. You can't see very far, just a kilometre or so, before a fog clogs the view. I went with your father for a walk, and we went on for what seemed like days, and on the same hand, it seemed like just an instant. We talked about you mostly."

"For days? That must have been dull," Harry said, a blush rising on his face.

Sirius laughed softly. "You, Quidditch, Hermione and Ron. The Weasleys in general. Dumbledore, Snape, Remus- we talked a lot about Remus and Peter. Your parents knew that Peter had betrayed them already, of course. Lucius Malfoy joined us after a while, claiming Hermione had killed him; that surprised me, but I didn't really doubt it. You don't bother to lie in the afterlife."

"She did, I suppose, but it wasn't her fault, really." Harry gave a brief explanation. "He shouldn't have been there anyway," Harry said, defending Hermione. It felt odd to think Lucius Malfoy might be spreading scurrilous lies about Hermione when he was dead and he was supposed to be harmless.

"No, he shouldn't have and he conveniently left that detail out of his death," Sirius replied, pausing. "I suppose Lucius Malfoy really did take his secrets to the grave."

"What were my parents like? In the afterlife, that is," Harry asked.

A small smile lifted Sirius's mouth. "A damn sight younger than I. Disgusting, really," he growled. "Your mother, even here at Hogwarts, fancied herself an artist. She spends most of her time composing poetry and painting. Your dad plays wizard chess with this old Russian warlock who cheats. Not that he would need to cheat, playing against James.

"They are happy, in a fashion. They miss you, and love you." Here Sirius paused, coughed and looked toward the window again. "They're proud of you, and they'd want you to know that."

Harry nodded.

"Three times..." Sirius muttered, watching as snow blew about the grounds in the wind. Checking himself, he looked back at Harry. "Three times they escaped Voldemort, before you were born. They were members of the Order, of course- you know that. But even then, anyone is lucky to escape only once."

"The Longbottoms escaped three times as well. Dumbledore told me."

"Yes, they did. Fantastic Aurors, both of them, before Death Eaters caught them. Something changed with them as well, Harry. They too had a child."

"What does that have to do with why my parents died? Why Neville's parents were defeated?"

"It changed things between them. Before you were born, your parents had been young and in love, and dedicated. Dedicated to each other, to the Order. They would have died for each other. But after you were born, things changed, I guess. James was a father and a husband, loving you and Lily with all his heart, but Lily was a mother first. She loved you so much that she couldn't protect you and James both. Just you." Sirius sighed again. "I never got to see- to see James as a father, or Lily as a mother. Peter did, because he was the Secret Keeper, the worm. I didn't expect to ever see it, either, the way the Prophecy went. We all assumed that you and your parents would be in hiding until you went to Hogwarts, or maybe you wouldn't go at all. Maybe your parents would train you themselves, and then, when you were ready, somehow you'd fight Voldemort."

"But you were my godfather. Surely you must have been there for my christening?" Harry asked. The idea that his parents had been willing to stay in hiding until he was fully grown, that everyone had thought the first war against Voldemort would last so long, was overwhelming. That possibility had never really registered before.

"There wasn't a christening. Not as far as I know, at least. Your parents just asked Peter to tell me that they had chosen me as the godfather, should anything happen to them."

"And something did happen to them. Me." That idea had certainly never registered, either. Sure, he had known that if he hadn't been born his parents wouldn't have died in Godric's Hollow. But he'd never thought a child could so change a relationship.

"Don't feel guilty about it, Harry. They didn't know," Sirius said. "They became parents, and I expect that a mother's love for her children outweighs any other consideration."

Harry's mind flew to the only other mothers he'd known well. Aunt Petunia might fight tooth and nail to protect Uncle Vernon, but Harry couldn't imagine she'd die protecting him when Dudley was only a baby. And Mrs Weasley loved Mr Weasley more than Harry had ever seen any adult love another, but Harry had no illusions- if it was the choice between Mr Weasley and any of her children, she'd make the choice, even if not consciously.

Even Professor Gryffindor, who acted like no mother he had ever known, was willing to die to do what, in her mind at least, would best protect her baby. Harry seriously doubted that she would do the leave her baby's side for just anybody, even Professor O'Neill.

"I don't feel guilty," Harry told Sirius, with some surprise to himself as well. "'Things change.' That seems to be the theme of my year, really," he said with a dry, husky laugh.

"No, Harry! Don't you see?" Sirius asked, his eyes wide. "You've escaped Voldemort several times already. You can't allow things to change. If they do, you could die!"

"But- but I've been escaping from Voldemort since I was eleven. Things have changed since then. I've changed since then."

"Yes, you have," Sirius said. "So you have to find out what is the same about you."

It didn't take Harry long to come to his conclusion. "Hermione and Ron. That's the same."

"Clever boy," Sirius said, then corrected himself. "Clever man... It seems so odd," he confessed, "that you're seventeen. You're about to leave Hogwarts and... what was it? Play Seeker for the Tutshill Tornados? That's my team, you know. I'll come and watch."

"Well, that's good, because Ron has pledged me his everlasting hatred. If I play for Tutshill, I'd become the sworn enemy of the Chudley Cannons."

"The Cannons? Everyone knows they're shite," Sirius said, dismissively. "What do you mean if you play for Tutshill? Have a better option than the best Quidditch team ever?"

"I was accepted into the Aurors College," Harry said with a shrug.

"'Course you were. Bad pay, terrible hours, and a lousy survival rate. They pretend to be really choosy, but they'll take anyone stupid enough to apply."

"That isn't true!" Harry said. "Is it?"

"Well, they didn't take me, so no. I'm just bitter." Sirius grinned. "Can't imagine why they didn't want me, though."

"Neither can I," Harry said, returning the grin.

**

Hermione was working on her latest editorial, condemning Fudge's latest manoeuvre to remain in power, when the Wireless Network announced-

"In a startling escalation, supporters of You-Know-Who have launched attacks in several Asian nations, while simultaneously attacking several British Ministry of Magic installations. Three Aurors were wounded and several Ministry employees were killed. This marks an end to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's four weeks of success in curbing the violence...

"In an issued joint statement, Amelia Bones and Arthur Weasley, co-Heads of the Department, claimed that these attacks were signs of a new wave of attacks, and they urge the public to remain vigilant. The names of the dead and injured have not been released.

"Death tolls from the Asian attacks have not been reported, either. Estimates are in the thousands."

The Press Room, just minutes before, had been buzzing with activity; now, it was deathly quiet. Everyone waited, holding their breath for more news, something that would bring the attacks into focus. Instead-

"We will update this breaking story as more information becomes available. Stay tuned for weather and sport, with our sponsor, Squire Brooms."

As one, the room went back to its buzz.

"Do you think they'll release the names before press time?" Susan Bones asked out loud.

"They usually manage," said Ginny, as she rearranged an advert.

Hermione looked around the room with a pursed face. So, maybe nothing changes, after all, Harry.