Harry Potter and the Last Year

Level 1.8: The Change in Professor Snape

Harry and Ron tried to distract themselves with a game of wizard chess in the common room, though they both regretted that they had not ignored Hermione and found out what Persephone had been in a panic about. Harry had managed to take Ron's queen by the time Hermione returned an hour later.

"What turned blue?"

"Oh, just a Potions project Persephone had been working on." Hermione took a seat beside them. Harry thought she looked a little ill. "We'd been trying to coach her through it. But well, it's just a big mess now."

"I thought it might be something serious," said Harry.

"It is pretty serious actually," said Hermione. "She's been doing really badly in classes. I don't think she's going to be able to come back next year."

"WHAT?!" Harry shouted, already starting to envision another high volume visit to the Headmaster's office. "Can't she just retake the year? Shouldn't she get some sort of allowance for special circumstances?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Normally they'd allow that, but I don't think she wants to come back. It's just not the same for her."

"Well, it's gotta be a little weird going to classes with your friends' kids," Ron said sympathetically.

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I got Malfoy to tell Dumbledore about the Shrieking Shack and the rest of it."

"Is that what took so long?"

Hermione nodded. "What do you want to do about him?" she asked.

"Thought he was your pet project," Ron muttered.

"I have enough projects," said Hermione. "Seriously, what do we do with him?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "Hard to do much if he still won't come to the D.A. meetings, but I'll think about it."

Harry thought about it, but he had other things on his mind. He wanted to talk Persephone out of giving up on her education, but she would not listen to him for more than a few minutes. "Harry, I'm thirty-six. I'll be thirty-seven in a few days. I'm just too old to be in school. I want to get out and start living my life."

Besides the rumors about Draco and Hermione that were flying around, which Harry did his best to ignore, there was a lot of speculation about Professor Snape who had once again disappeared from the staff table. Most people agreed that he was in the hospital wing, but no one was quite sure why. The other teachers took turns filling in for him during the first two day of Potions class, but on Wednesday morning Harry heard he would be returning in time for theirs.

Harry caught a lot of whispered "Did you see what happened to Professor Snape?"s that made him think whatever it was must have been disfiguring in some way. A few years ago, the idea might have delighted him. Now he found himself more curious than anything, and perhaps a little concerned but not overly so. Snape must have been well enough to teach after all.

He and Hermione sat in their regular seats by Neville. Malfoy had his own table towards the back. They had finished up their experiments a couple weeks ago. Harry had gotten a lot of remarks like barely passable and shows only the weakest comprehension of methodology, but he was not too troubled by it. He did not want a career as a potions maker. He just needed to pass his N.E.W.T.s.

Another minute and Snape was going to be late for class. Hermione had pulled out her Potions text, so Harry did the same. He had just opened his book when the door to the Potions lab flung open.

"As you may or may not have heard, I have become the victim of my own negligence. An accident involving a Potions experiment has reverted me to my seventeen-year-old form. I'm afraid I can not tell you the nature of this experiment or what went wrong with it, as I have no memory of the incident or anything else that has occurred to me since the age of seventeen. As such, I do not remember any of your names and must ask your forbearance as I relearn them."

Snape stopped in front of his desk and turned to face the class. At least Harry thought it was Snape. He looked more like a student who had dressed up as the Potions Master. The clothing was Snape's, though this younger version seemed a bit smaller. He looked a lot like the fifth year Snape that Harry had seen in the Pensieve but something was off. People could change a lot in a year, particularly at that age. This seventeen-year-old version took more care with his appearance. His hair was cut a little differently. He was a little taller, but there was still something off that Harry could not place.

This young man in Snape's robes moved and spoke with fewer jerks and more confidence than the boy from the Pensieve, but he had not quite achieved the presence of his older self yet. There was the smallest hint of nervousness as the teenage Snape faced the class. "Since the term is so close to completion, Professor Dumbledore has decided that I will carry on in the position of Potions Master until the end of it. He will be seeking a suitable replacement for the next school year, but I should hope, being seventh years, that has little effect on any of you. While I do not claim to be nearly as well versed in the art of potion making at seventeen as I was at thirty-eight, I have left myself excellent notes, and I'm sure I am quite competent enough to lead you through the reviews for the N.E.W.T.s. I have been told I made Outstanding marks on them, though the Ministry may require me to retake them given my present condition has reverted me to a state several months prior to the exam."

The initial shock was starting to wear off. Murmurs and giggles were rising. Snape plunged on as if he could not hear them. "I hope you will all take this as a cautionary tale. Even the most experienced Potion makers can make mistakes and will if they are not cautious. The consequences of which can be dramatic if not devastating."

"You did that by accident?!" Megan Jones gaped.

Neville looked a little white. "Is that even possible?" After all the loss of twenty years, while troublesome for Snape, would have been fatal for any of them. Most everyone looked at Hermione.

"Of course, it's possible," said Hermione, sounding a little flustered.

Several of the students turned to Draco, the closest thing they had to potions expert after Hermione, for a second opinion. Malfoy certainly spoke like an expert. "It's not common by any means," he assured them. "But yes, it's possible. He must have been experimenting with some very high level stuff."

"Exactly," said Hermione, though she did not turn her head to so much as glance at Malfoy.

Snape seemed rather annoyed to have lost the class's attention. He must have dealt with much younger students that morning. "It's understandable that you all have questions," he said, the nervousness more prominent in his tone now. "But I would prefer if we devote class time to the review. Please turn to page two hundred fifty-seven." He walked behind the Snape's desk and flipped opened his own copy of the text in demonstration.

"This is a joke."

The boy who looked like Snape raised his head and located the speaker. "And your name?"

"Terry Boot. Dumbledore can't-"

"Mr. Boot, I'll assume the shock has temporarily robbed you of your ability to conduct yourself properly in a classroom setting," said the young Snape. "I will be lenient this time and only take five points from Ravenclaw." His upper lip curled in a smile that was so reminiscent of their old Potions Master that everyone knew, however young he might be, they were still dealing with Snape.

"Can you do that?" Terry asked uncertainly.

Snape smile grew with wicked delight. "You'll find that I can. By all means continue talking, if you want to experiment with that supposition. No? Then let's continue on with the review, shall we? Page two hundred fifty-seven."

It was hard to say if anyone was really paying attention to the review. Everyone stayed quiet, because they did not know far this teenage teacher would go with his point taking. Hermione was clearly trying to set a good example by asking and answering questions at the right times. Malfoy was acting like this was simply another day in class, which made Harry wonder. A lot of people were passing notes, which Snape seemed willing to ignore as long as they made no noise doing it. A few people were just gaping. Daphne Greengrass looked like she had suffered from a severe disappointment.

Snape said he was willing to answer questions after the bell rang, provided they were asked respectfully. Once it was safe, many of the students crowded his desk. Malfoy slipped away immediately. Hermione expressed no interest in lingering either. Harry might have thought she was going to talk to Malfoy, but she tried to get Harry and Neville to come with her. Neville went, but Harry stayed. He had questions for Snape.

Harry's questions were not the sort he could ask in front of the other students though. He waited by his desk, hoping they would clear off, but the next class had started coming in. Snape dismissed the seventh years, but Harry stepped forward to ask Snape if he could have an interview later.

"You're Harry, right?" said Snape. "We can talk now. I have a few things I want to discuss with you as well. Let's go to my office."

"What about your next class?" Harry asked as he followed him from the room.

"Don't worry. It will be covered," Snape said with a vague wave of his hand.

Harry waited until they were safely inside Snape's office with the door closed and warded, before he asked any questions. "Have a seat," said the teenage Snape. He shifted a few items around on his desk.

"I'll stand thanks," said Harry.

This would have earned him a biting remark from the old Snape, but the teenage version did not seem to care. "It is creepy how much you look like James."

"So I've been told." Harry stared at Snape trying to think of the best way to begin the conversation, when he realized what was off about him. "Your teeth."

"Pardon?" said the young Snape, looking at Harry curiously.

"They're straight," said Harry. "Professor Snape's were all crooked. Teeth don't un-straighten, not that I'm aware of."

The other boy flashed a nervous smile, showing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. "I had Pomfrey fix them while I was in the hospital wing."

Harry frowned. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"Guess I didn't have a reason before."

Harry wondered what reason he had now. "So you have no memory?"

"That's right."

"So you don't remember what happened to you?"

"Very good."

"I mean. You can't know for certain that it was an accident. It could be possible the Death Eaters found a way--"

"I think if the Death Eaters wanted me out of the way, they would have done the job thoroughly and had me offed."

"So you're certain that it was an accident?"

Snape gave Harry a you-should-be-smarter-than-that look. "Potter, do you have any idea how complicated and time consuming a Younging Potion is? You can't brew one by accident."

Harry felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. "You did it on purpose? Why?"

Snape shrugged. "I don't remember."

"But your work for the Order. Are you still going to be able to spy like before?"

Snape made a face and perched himself on the edge of his desk. "I wouldn't want to even if I could. I managed to reset myself before I took the Dark Mark, and I really don't want to take it again. The process sounds rather unpleasant. Besides, from what Dumbledore told me, Voldemort had finally caught on that I wasn't on the up and up. He'd been using me to pass particular information that he wanted the Order to receive. Makes the spying less useful than it once had been. All I can hope is that he sees me as harmless, since I don't remember anything all that useful for either side...Maybe that's why I took the potion. I was getting rather sick of the whole mess."

Harry decided this was the right moment to get to his real question. "Doesn't have anything to do with Persephone, does it?"

"Oh yes, Persephone...she's what I needed to talk to you about."

"What about her?" Harry asked stiffly.

Snape tugged at his collar. "I know Persephone better than anyone. We've spent a lot of time together, and while she'll deny it, I have no doubts--"

"She's my aunt," Harry interrupted. If you think I'd give you permission...

"Thank you, Potter. I had worked that out." Snape shot Harry an annoyed look. "I don't think it matters how you're related. The fact remains that Persephone Potter is most gifted seer I've ever encountered."

Harry decided that he needed to stop expecting things. It always left him feeling wrong footed. "You really think she can see the future?"

"I don't think. I know." Snape walked over to a shelf crammed with books and pulled out a thin one with a dark green spine. "I started making notes back while I was at Hogwarts twenty some odd years ago of Persephone's predictions. Those things she calls flashes and some of her dreams. It seems that even after school I kept track of them. They haven't all come true yet, but I would say about sixty to seventy percent have."

Harry tried to remember his text from Divination. "That's pretty high isn't it?"

"It's exceptionally high," Snape said, giving Harry a very serious look. "She's been never wrong. Never."

Harry eyed the book in Snape's hand and thought about what this meant for him. If this was true, he had no further doubts about Voldemort's attack on the school. "That's good I suppose--that she's accurate."

"It's good...and bad," said Snape. "She used to cry after Divination classes. Said she kept trying to see us, me, her, Lucius, and Narcissa, all grown up together and couldn't. I guess we know why now."

Harry felt a bit of sympathy for his aunt. He knew what it was like to have people see a curse as a gift. Maybe gifts and curses went hand in hand. "Is there something in that book I should be worried about?" asked Harry.

"No, and I'd rather you didn't mention it to Persephone. I don't think she knows about it." Snape tapped the book against his hand. "It's not what's in the book that you should be worried about. It's something I left out."

"Go on."

"Not every dream Persephone has is prophetic. I didn't write down ones that were an obvious jumble or things that were completely beyond the realm of possibility." Snape stuck the book back into place on the shelf. "There was a night not too long ago...well, not very long ago in my memory. It's twenty years past. I was up late and Persephone came down to the common room, crying. She said she'd had a dream that upset her, so I asked her to tell me about it.

"She said there was boy that looked like James only he wasn't. She thought he was James' son. And there was a man with the face of a monster, white and serpent like. He and the boy were dueling. They were in a forest. The monster man used the killing curse and the boy fell to the ground and stopped moving. She said the monster man was laughing with the most terrible laugh. Apparently my older self had been working on a sort of memoirs, chronicling my experiences as a Death Eater. I've been reading it. Her description matches that of Lord Voldemort."

Harry felt a cold sensation creep up his spine. "Why didn't you write that down?"

"Because she said I was there. She made me promise to protect you. Protect Harry. I promised and trying to lighten the mood, I asked her how I looked twenty years from now. She said I was exactly the same, like I hadn't aged, so I told her not to worry. She said James' son had been about seventeen in the dream, so if it was real, I would have to be close to forty."

"Why didn't Persephone tell me about this dream?"

"I doubt she remembers. She forgets most of the predictions she makes. Particularly the dreams. She was only half awake when she told me about it and went back to sleep afterwards. I think it had left her mind by the next morning. I didn't think about it until I found this book yesterday."

Harry felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He was supposed to defeat Voldemort, not the other way around. "So what do I do? If she's always right?"

Snape's black eyes held no answers. "Avoid the forest?" he suggested. "Avoid Voldemort if you can. Just because she hasn't been wrong before doesn't mean this is certain. I just think you should take it seriously."

"I will." But Harry could not avoid Voldemort. What would it really gain him worrying about a dream from twenty years past? Maybe I'm dreaming, Harry thought. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, and Snape will be normal again. But he knew better. "I'd rather you didn't tell anyone about this, particularly not Persephone."

"No," Snape agreed. "It would hurt her. She always feels responsible when her predictions come to pass. And I'm not sure it's the wisest thing, trying to see the future. I haven't even told Dumbledore. He doesn't have much faith in divination, and I'd rather not push it right now."

"Don't imagine he's too happy about having to find a new Potions Master."

"No, he's not." The teenage Snape sat back down on the desk, letting his legs swing a bit. He stared at the dungeon office's tiny window. Harry tried to imagine what it would be like dropped twenty years into the future.

"Is it weird?" he asked. "Being here, now?"

Snape arched his eyebrows. "Weird would be an appropriate word. You know, the strangest part has been reading through those memoirs, the journal left by my older self. It's strange because there's this man with my name. And he's me, but then he's not me. He was a miserable, bitter man, who went through hell and dragged it around with him." The young Snape gave Harry an ironic smile. "I heard he gave you a rather hard time of it."

"A bit."

"Sorry...you know maybe I should be scared about the Death Eaters and war and all that, but they don't seem real yet. What frightens me--what really frightens me--is that I'm going to have to turn into him all over again."

"You won't," said Harry.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because it frightens you," said Harry. "Because your choices make you what you are. Because I think he wrote all that down, so that people like him wouldn't have to go through it, and you're not stupid enough to waste the effort."

Snape looked a little uncomfortable, as though he was not used to getting pep talks. "So, you play Quidditch?"

"Yeah," Harry forced himself to smile. "I'm the Gryffindor Seeker."

Snape smiled and looked out the window again. "I wanted to try out for Seeker. I was getting pretty decent at it. Lucius always made me play that position over the summer, because I couldn't throw or hit worth anything."

Harry tried to push the image of Snape and Lucius playing Quidditch out of his mind. "Why didn't you?"

Snape shrugged. "Persephone hates Quidditch."

Harry shifted his school bag to the other shoulder. That struck him as wrong somehow. "She told you not to try out?"

"No, she never said a word about it."

"Then why-" Harry knew that was not the right question, so he gritted his teeth and asked instead, "Are you in love with her?"

"I don't know," Snape said, pushing himself up from the desk. He frowned as though giving the matter serious thought. "Everything's happened so fast. I'm still a little disoriented. I fancied her a bit when we were students together, but I'm a teacher now. Wouldn't exactly be proper, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't," Harry agreed quickly. He did have some pity for this younger Snape though. Things had to be disconcerting enough without him thinking Harry had as much animosity for him as James had. Harry gave him an encouraging smile and fished around for something heartening to say. "Bet you're the youngest Professor Hogwarts has ever had."

Snape had been watching Harry warily, but that made him smile. "I had been hoping, but apparently not. They had a ten-year-old prodigy teaching Charms about three hundred years back."

"Seriously? I bet there was interesting story behind that."

"Yes, there probably was."

****************

The next day Draco Malfoy dropped a crumbled bit of paper on Hermione's desk, before taking his own seat by Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione un-crumpled it, and what she read made her smile.

Ron's lip twitched with disgust. "He passing you love notes now?"

Hermione gave him a too sweet smile. "Would you like to read it, Ron?"

"No."

Harry, who seriously doubted it was a love note, asked, "What does it say?"

"He thinks he's figured out whose been spying on him," said Hermione with a satisfied smile. "He wants to join the D.A."

"That was quick," Ron muttered.

"He's been trying to figure it out for months, Ronald," Hermione whispered. "I helped him narrow down the suspects last night. Must have been the nudge he needed. I think the whole thing was half in his head, anyway. At least that's what Persephone said. Point is he's ready to commit."

"Still think the Death Eaters can have him," Ron muttered so quietly that Harry was sure the comment was not intended to reach Hermione's ears.

Harry, however, did not want the Death Eaters to have Draco. He wanted Malfoy's change of heart to be genuine. He wanted him to join the D.A. and get over his blood prejudices.

Since Persephone had joined the D.A., Harry had been waiting for Malfoy to follow her. He needed some resolution between himself and the Slytherins, with Malfoy in particular. He needed to leave the D.A. as strong as he could. Particularly if he was going to die.

Malfoy certainly wanted to join. He kept shooting Harry hopeful looks and sent Persephone with the same message that he had given Hermione. Harry wished Malfoy would just come talk to him directly. It would simplify things.

****************

Harry and Ron went to visit Hagrid that afternoon, while Hermione was in Arithmancy. They had come unannounced, so Harry was not certain that Hagrid would be home.

As it turned out Hagrid was home, but he already had company. The sound of two flutes was rising from the step to Hagrid's front door as they approached. One of the flutes belonged to Hagrid. The other was being played by a small brown haired boy that Harry guessed to be a first year.

"Tha's right." He heard Hagrid say. "Now jus' put yer fingers over the first and third hole, an' give'er a blow." Harry just watched them for a few seconds. He remembered the wooden flute Hagrid had carved for him in first year. One of the first real Christmas presents he had ever gotten. It had never occurred to Harry that Hagrid might also teach him how to play it. It had sunk to the bottom of his chest in a box along with Sirius's mirror, which he had broken and repaired but never got to work. The missed opportunities made a small ache swell in Harry's chest.

"Ron! Harry! Just given Charles here a lesson." Hagrid beamed at them.

The first year got to his feet. Harry could see his Slytherin tie and crest now. "Charles Bulstrode," he said extending his hand. "I believe you know my sister, Millicent."

"Um, yeah," said Harry, shaking Charles' hand to be polite. "I'm Harry Potter."

"And Ron Weasley right?" Charles said extending his hand to Ron. "The Gryffindor Keeper."

"Um, yeah, that's me," Ron said, looking a little surprised and not unpleased that Charles seemed as eager to shake hands with him as Harry.

"I think Charles intends to be our next Ministry of Magic," Hagrid said good-naturedly.

The Slytherin boy flushed slightly. "I don't know about that. I'm just a Quidditch fan."

****************

Ron was in a pretty good mood when they met up with Hermione in the common room that afternoon. They had settled around a table and pulled their homework out when Ron cleared his throat. "Okay, Hermione, I'm not waiting until the last minute this time. Will you go to the dance with me?"

Hermione looked stricken. "Oh, Ron."

"You're the first one I've asked," Ron added in a persuasive tone.

"I'm sorry."

Ron seemed to deflate a bit. "What do you mean?"

"I'm so sorry. Someone already asked me." Hermione flinched and looked twice as apologetic.

"You're joking!" Ron exclaimed, but it was obvious she was not. "It's a full month away!"

"I know," Hermione said in a small voice.

"It's not like a I waited 'til last minute!"

"I know, if it was yesterday I might...but they asked me over a month ago. I'm really sorry."

"Who the bloody hell asks someone to a dance two months in advance?"

Hermione pursed her lips and flipped one of her books open without looking at it.

"You haven't taken up with Malfoy, have you?" Ron quipped in a desperate but failed attempt to sound humorous.

Hermione became instantly engrossed in her book.

"You're not serious?" Ron looked as stricken as Hermione had a moment ago. "I was joking," he added in a sort pleading tone.

Hermione continued staring very hard at the page she obviously not reading. Her hand still clutched the book tightly, and her mouth was working in a series of uncomfortable twitches.

"You are serious," Ron gasped in breathless disbelief.

Harry had been trying very hard to stay out of the conversation, but he could not help it. "Malfoy?"

Hermione looked up at him rather helplessly.

"Draco Malfoy?!" Ron repeated, loudly enough to draw looks from some of the other students in the common room.

"Are you insane?!" Harry demanded. If Hermione wanted to turn down Ron that was her own business, but this was really going too far. "Don't you remember who he is?"

"I remember," said Hermione, grimly regaining her composure.

"I don't think she does, Harry," Ron said, turning to him in a theatric way. "Perhaps we ought to remind her." He turned back to Hermione. "He's blonde chap in Slytherin about yea high. Slimy selfish git. Called you 'Mudblood' a few times. Tried to kill Harry a time or two. Father's a Death Eater, sound familiar?"

"Draco is not his father," Hermione said firmly.

"Oh, so he's Draco now, is he?" Ron said in falsely airy voice.

"It's his name, Ron."

"Yeah, I caught that. Did you catch the bit earlier about how he tried to kill Harry last year?"

"So did you," Hermione retorted.

Harry thought that was a rather low blow, and so did Ron. He flushed. "That doesn't count! I was under the Imperius Curse."

Maybe Hermione realized she had gone too far. She faltered for a moment, before continuing in a controlled tone. "That's my point. Someone else was influencing you."

"It's hardly the same-!"

"No, it's not," Hermione conceded. "But you still fought it eventually."

"Malfoy wasn't under the Imperius Curse!"

Hermione gave Ron a look that said she thought he was being a bit thick. "Some very powerful influences have nothing to do with magic."

"So now you're asking Malfoy out to try your own influences on him?!" Ron growled a bit too loudly. "It won't work, Hermione."

"He asked me," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Not the other way around."

By this point, everyone in the common room was staring unabashedly. Harry was very much aware of their stares but did not dare intrude further on Ron and Hermione's row. He thought Ron had a point, but Ron's anger was more then sufficient for both of them.

"You could have said 'no' couldn't you?" Ron retorted. Hermione sighed. "Honestly! You get some kind of sick thrill out of dancing with the person you least ought to? You should have your head checked."

"There was nothing wrong with Viktor!" Hermione shot back.

"This isn't about Vicky," Ron finished the sentence in an over-sweet way.

"Sounds to me like you're still hung up on him," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not the one writing him novels every month."

"Are you trying to tell me who I should be friends with?"

"Maybe I should, you seem to have trouble figuring it out!"

Hermione closed her eyes, clenched her fist, and took a few slow breaths. "Ron, I don't blame you for being angry. I really am sorry about the dance. But I made a promise."

"What is it with you?" Ron asked, sounding almost pleading. "I mean you seem like a smart girl. Krum's kinda dull, but at least he's human. But how can you like that arrogant bastard?"

"You know me better than that, and I never said I liked him."

"So you're going to the dance with a bloke you don't even like?"

"It's not about that. Ron, you don't understand."

"You're right," Ron growled. "I don't understand! Only thing that's clear is that you don't want to go with me." He snatched up his bag and stomped up the stairs to the boys' dorm.

Harry tried to speak in a rational tone. "Hermione, maybe you should-"

"Oh, just butt out, Harry," Hermione hissed.

Harry considered storming off after Ron, but he had left Hermione looking this miserable before and had been sorry for it later.

"Are you going to tell me there's nothing wrong with Malfoy!"

Hermione wiped her eyes. "Of course there's something wrong with him," she said in a more normal tone, a bit quieter than normal as she had become aware of the spectators. "But he's trying, Harry, and I think we need to encourage him."

"I understand that," said Harry, trying to be diplomatic. "But why do you have to be the one to do it?"

"Well, Ron's certainly not going to," Hermione said with a dry laugh. "I don't know, Harry. I don't why he singled me out or why it's so important to him. I only said 'yes' on conditions."

"Is that why he was wearing the S.E.E. badge?"

Hermione nodded. "It was a little terrifying at first to be honest."

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Harry.

"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle on my own," said Hermione. "I didn't want Ron hexing him in the halls because he tried to talk to me in Astronomy. And I don't know...I guess it's a little flattering."

Harry's stomach twisted. "Hermione, you don't actually like Malfoy do you?"

Hermione gave Harry a sad smile. "You know if I just met him this year, I might. But he was cruel to me for very long time. I'm glad to see him change. I think I can forgive him, but it's not that easy to forget. All that stuff doesn't just go away."

Harry felt the knot in his stomach ease a bit. "Just be careful. If Malfoy gets out of hand, let us know. Ron'll beat him up."

Hermione sniffed and laughed. "Do you think he'll stay mad long?"

"Er..." Yes, was the first answer that came to Harry's mind, but it was not one he wanted to accept. "I'll talk to him. Do you really think Malfoy's changed?"

"I think he's trying to," said Hermione. "But changes like that don't happen over night. He still has a lot tying him to the Death Eaters. I think it would be very easy for him to slip back if we don't show him the benefits of being on the right side."

"What sort of benefits?" Harry eyed Hermione suspiciously.

She flushed slightly. "Honestly, Harry! Draco's been told very clearly that the dance is just a dance and nothing more. I mean we need to bring him into the D.A. He's feeling very isolated right now, and we need to show him he's not alone. It might be a good idea to talk to Dumbledore about drafting him into the Order after term is over, so he'll have a place to go."

"There won't be a need for the Order after term's over," said Harry with far more confidence than he felt. "But yeah, we'll bring Malfoy into the D.A."

****************

Friday morning, Hedwig delivered a letter from Tonks saying that her band would be thrilled to play at Harry's Leaving Dance, which was one less thing on his mind. Padma looked as though she might cry with relief when he told her. Hermione emerged from her Arithmancy text, which was settled between her eggs and her orange juice, to ask what sort of music they played. Harry had to confess he did not know.

Ron was sitting with them, but he was not talking very much. He did not look at Hermione anymore than he had to. Hermione seemed to have decided it was best to give him time to cool off.

Harry knew Ron was not the only one who would have an adverse reaction to Malfoy joining the D.A. Harry asked Persephone to bring him late, so he could have time to prepare everyone.

After the Dumbledore's Army had gathered that night, Harry learned Malfoy was not the only thing the members were uncertain about. Naturally people were confused and worried by what had happened to Snape. Some people voiced theories similar to Harry's about Death Eater involvement. "Dumbledore assures me that this was not the work of Death Eaters," Harry told them.

"I was sort of hoping it was," said one of the fifth years. "It would have been some sign of activity. Not that I want them to attack the school, but how do you fight an enemy that never comes out of hiding?"

"They'll come out of hiding soon enough," said Harry. "We just can't let ourselves grow lax."

"We can't keep ourselves wound up all the time either," said Padma.

"Maybe Persephone was wrong? Maybe there isn't going to be an attack."

"There's going to be an attack," Harry said firmly. He wished he could explain how he knew that, but as adamant as Persephone was about Divination being a crock, he did not think it would go over too well. "Anyway, about Malfoy. We all know his family's history, so I don't want to hear any cracks about it. He's taking a risk to join us, so I want everyone to make him feel welcome. Got it? Just so no one's shocked. He did run into a Death Eater in Hogsmeade last weekend. Hermione was able to eavesdrop from under the invisibility cloak, so I know what was said. But I want Malfoy to have a chance to tell us himself."

The fifth year who had spoken before actually looked heartened, but other people shuddered. Hermione gave Harry a tight smile. Ron kept his expression blank, but Harry was grateful that he was managing to keep his opinions of Malfoy to himself.

"Harry," Padma called, crooking her finger to indicate she wanted him to come close enough for her to say something quietly. She spoke in a whisper. Her forehead was lined with concern. "Didn't you say Malfoy tried to kill you last year?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted at the same volume. "But that was last year."

Enough individual conversations had sprung up that Harry missed the sound of the door opening. He caught the shift as people turned their heads and turned to see that Malfoy and Persephone had entered the room. Harry straightened up. He had a sort of ritual planned out.

He crossed the room. Malfoy took the hint and came to meet him in the middle. Harry held out his hand. "I'm glad you came," he said in a clear voice. Everyone had quieted down to watch.

Malfoy looked down at Harry's hand, and Harry could tell that he remembered. Draco extended his own hand to take Harry's and shook it. "I'm here to help."

Harry gave Malfoy a tight smile. Let's hope.

"And um, I'm sorry about the thing with the bludger," Malfoy mumbled just loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry thought it was a rather lame apology, but it was an apology. It was certainly time to move on.

"Why don't you have a seat," said Harry, indicating an empty spot at one of the long tables, and Malfoy sat down. Harry thought it was particularly bizarre to see Malfoy follow his instructions. "We're discussing Voldemort's attack. Or I should say the possibility of an attack on the school."

Persephone sat down on one side of Malfoy, and Hermione brought the D.A.'s contract over for Malfoy to sign. Harry wanted Ron at least to see that he was not too quick to trust Malfoy, so he waited for Malfoy to sign before continuing. And waited. Malfoy was taking his time looking over the parchment.

"I am allowed to read it first, aren't I?" asked Draco when he caught Harry's impatient stare.

Harry bit back a sigh. Students shifted nervously, perhaps trying to remember how thoroughly they themselves had read the contract. Harry hoped Draco did not plan to be difficult, but Malfoy stopped stalling and signed the parchment. The collective relief in the room was palpable. Harry decided to get right to it. "Could you tell the others what the Death Eater said to you?"

Because he was nervous or simply used to directing his attention to whoever was in charge, Malfoy fixed his eyes on Harry, but he spoke clearly enough for everyone to hear. "He just said that when the time comes I would have to stand with them or die with the others. I asked him what that meant, and he said it would be obvious."

Harry knew Malfoy was editing out a fair bit, but he had at least boiled it down to the most relevant points. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"That could mean anything," said Ernie Macmillan in a disappointed tone.

"But it supports our theory," said Harry stubbornly.

"Potter, why don't you just admit he might not be coming?" Zacharias Smith asked.

Harry banged his fist against his palm. "I know he's coming. It's just a question of when."

"The dance."

Persephone had spoken so softly that Harry barely heard her. She shrunk back against the table when he turned to look at her.

"Did you get another flash?" Malfoy prompted her gently.

"No, not exactly," said Persephone, still looking as though she would rather disappear. "But it makes a certain amount of sense, doesn't it? Everyone will be distracted." Her voice grew stronger as she continued. "And a lot of students don't take their wands to formals."

Harry had a little trouble believing that. "I took my wand with me to the Yule Ball," he said.

"I didn't," admitted Parvati. "It stuck out in my dress robes."

Malfoy's eyes lit up with understanding. "The dress robes. My mother sent me dress robes with protections woven in for Christmas." He gave Harry a significant look and Harry nodded to say he had made the connection.

Malfoy's parents would know after all. She's been never wrong. Harry felt his pulse quicken. This was excellent. Not only did they know what Voldemort's plan was. They knew when he was planning to strike. But what to do about it?

The plans were already beginning to form in Harry's head, and they had a whole month to prepare. He was nearly giddy.

The other students were far from giddy. "We're not going to cancel the dance again are we?" asked Annie Howard.

"No," said Harry. "We're going to set a trap for him."

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked.

"Why not?!" said Harry, looking around at the startled faces of the D.A. "Even if we cancel the dance, the Death Eaters may try to attack anyway. The less they realize we're prepared for them the better. We are Dumbledore's Army. This is our home, our school, we have to defend it."

Support for the plan came from where Harry would have least expected it. "Potter's right," Malfoy said loudly. "We're going to have much better chance if we fight them on our own terms."

"We?!" exclaimed Neville, giving Draco a flabbergasted look. "Malfoy, you've been in the D.A. for ten minutes!"

Malfoy leapt to his feet. "And it only took me ten minutes to see that Potter is on track!" He shot a piercing stare at various members of the D.A. as though rebuking them for their lack of faith. "We better have a plan because you can bet sure as hell the Death Eaters are going to have one. And they're going to come in ready to kill. You can't expect to negotiate. You can't expect mercy. If you want to survive, you're going to have to fight! Better here. Better together, than to let them pick us off one by one after school ends."

Harry had never had the impulse to hug Malfoy before. Thankfully, it passed quickly, but he decided it was best to ride the momentum. "Exactly. We've already been drilling for what to do in case the Death Eaters attack. This is just a more elaborate version. We've got nearly a month to plan. We can really do this properly. There won't be any classes, so it will be easier to manage everyone."

"Harry," Hermione spoke up. Malfoy had sat back down beside her and was listening attentively. "What are we going to tell Dumbledore?"

Harry had to think that over. The Headmaster had shown Harry more trust than he did in the past, but he did not know if Dumbledore would trust his judgment quite that far. "Nothing. We can't involve Dumbledore or any of the teachers. They'll be more worried about protecting us than helping us fight."

Hermione gaped at him, and she was not the only one. "You want to do this without the teachers?"

"The teachers will be there," said Harry. "It's unlikely they'll be wandering around the castle without their wands. I've already warned Dumbledore that we think it's possible the Death Eaters might attack. They'll be on guard. And Tonks will be there. We can find ways to summon the Aurors once the attack begins, but I want Voldemort to be committed. He won't be able to Apparate away once he's on the grounds."

"Neither will we!" Anthony Goldstein pointed out. "I'm not so sure about this, Potter."

Harry glared around the room. "Okay, fine. Anyone who doesn't want to be in the battle can either go home or stay in their dormitories and hope the Death Eaters don't get that far."

"I'm not afraid!" shouted Ginny.

"Neither am I!" said Ron. "I'll stand by Harry."

"I'll fight," said Virginia Dey.

"No, you won't," said Harry, pointing his finger at her warningly. "At least not at first. I want everyone who wouldn't normally be at the dance to stick to their common rooms that night. No one under fifth year has any business going up against a Death Eater. I've done it. I know."

This drew a bit of an outcry from some of the third and fourth years. "We can fight! What about the dueling club?"

"I don't doubt that," said Harry. "But we're going to need a reserve. We need someone to protect the younger students who aren't ready. If the Death Eaters make it as far as the common rooms, you will have to fight. So I still want you to train and be ready for it." This did not completely satisfy all of them, but Harry had a month to work on them.

"We're going to need a way coordinate everyone," said Padma.

"Harry, what about the mirror Sirius gave you!" said Hermione. Harry looked at her curiously. "What if we could link more than two of them together? Like magical walkie-talkies."

"Could we do that?"

"I'm sure we could," said Hermione. "It's probably a variation on the Protean Charm. I'd have to see the mirror again, maybe do a little research in the library."

"You want help?" asked Draco.

"Malfoy, I've got another job for you," said Harry. "Prefects are going to be acting like officers, and you're the only one we have representing Slytherin at the moment. We need to bring in as many sixth and seventh year students as possible, particularly prefects. But carefully. Word of this can not leave the school, and it can't reach the teachers."

Malfoy nodded, the gears visibly turning in his head. Harry started working his way around the room, making sure everyone was assigned to developing one part of the plan or another. He sent Lavender Brown off to fetch her crystal ball and sat down to have a talk with Malfoy.

"Hermione told me you figured out who was spying on you."

"I did," said Malfoy.

"Who was it?"

Malfoy hesitated. "I'd rather not say. I can make sure they don't find out anything important."

"Draco," said Hermione in a warning tone. Ron took the seat next to Harry.

"Fine, it was Pansy," Draco hissed. "I don't think she's actively spying so much as she's was writing home to her mother about me, and her mother told my mother, etcetera."

Persephone nudged Draco. "Told you!"

Draco shot her a look. "Anyway, I wouldn't put it past her to do a bit of active spying if she thought something was up. I think it's best to keep her out of the loop."

"I'm going to have to trust your judgment," said Harry. "But bring in as many as you can. It's going to be hard enough fighting Death Eaters without fighting other students as well."

"I'll do what I can," said Draco. "Persephone, you can start talking to the sixth years."

Harry almost laughed. Start? Apparently Persephone did not tell Malfoy everything after all.

"Some of them have joined already," she said. "Not everyone came to the meeting today." This had been on Ron's suggestion. No point putting Blaise and Millicent in danger if Malfoy proved unwilling to sign the contract.

"Hey, Harry, I've got it," said Lavender Brown as she approached them.

"Excellent," said Harry. "Come on, Persephone."

Persephone eyed the crystal ball in Lavender's hand apprehensively. "Harry, no!" she whined.

"I want details." Harry stood back up. "Come on."

Persephone gripped Draco's arm, as though he might rescue her. "Go on," Malfoy told her gently. "It can't hurt to look."

Persephone made a very pitiful face that almost made Harry sorry to put her through this, but if she was accurate, he needed to know. Lavender escorted Persephone over to a small table in the corner of the room and set the crystal ball upon it. "What's the point, Harry?" Persephone whined. "I told you it's all just guesswork. I could be telling you all wrong."

Harry put his hand on Persephone's shoulders and pressed her down into the chair. "Just focus on the dance and tell me what you see," Harry told her gently but firmly. "Maybe it's not what will be, but even if you can tell me what might be, that will help me plan for contingencies."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You're a good guesser. You made excellent marks in Divination. Now look."

Lavender watched them debate. She had always been a big believer in Divination, but she had also heard Harry poke fun at Trelawny quite a bit over the years. He wondered what she thought about his renewed interest. If she was jealous that Harry had not asked her to look, she did not show it.

Persephone frowned intently at the crystal ball, but after a few minutes her expression relaxed. She started speaking about windows shattering and black robed wizards in skull mask. Harry summoned a quill and parchment and got Lavender to take notes.

He was a little irritated when Luna interrupted them. "Harry, I had an idea."

"If it involves Blibbering Humdingers, I don't want to hear it."

Luna paused for a moment, as though trying to decide whether it was worth explaining Humdingers to Harry. "Actually, it has to do with dementors. Persephone said they were constructs. I was thinking maybe if we could see that book which says how they're constructed, we could figure out how to deconstruct them."

Harry had to admit that was an intriguing idea. "I wonder where that book is."

"Severus has is," Persephone said in a distracted voice. "I can ask for it back."

"Okay, maybe we can get Blaise to help. He seems to like theory."

Luna smiled and drifted off again, but Dean replaced her. "Hey, Harry, we were wondering if maybe we ought to come up with some new code names for Voldemort and the Death Eaters, to keep the teachers from catching on."

Harry's lip quirked. "Uncle Tom," he said.

"Brilliant," said Dean. "Gives me an idea for the rest of them."

"Good, I'll let you work it out," said Harry.

Dean had started to turn away, when Persephone's hand shot out and grabbed his. "You should go home."

"What?" Dean looked a bit affronted.

"You should go home," Persephone repeated. "You shouldn't stay for the dance." She released Dean and scowled at the crystal ball.

Dean gawked at her. Lavender gave him a worried look. "Come on," Harry said, leading him back towards Seamus. There was a horrible twisting in Harry's stomach now. He was used to hearing predictions of his own death, but it was starting to dawn on him exactly how much danger he was putting the other students in. Once there was enough distance that he did not think Persephone could over hear them, Harry stopped. "Hey, Dean...maybe you should go home."

Dean gave Harry an odd look. "I'm not afraid, mate," he said. "I want to fight."

Visions of Dean getting grievously injured were filing through Harry's mind. "Dean, you don't understand," Harry said in a low, imploring voice. "She's never wrong. If she told you to go home, there's probably a reason."

Dean gave Harry a wry smile. "Harry, you know I think the whole divination thing is a crock. But let's say, I do go home. That'll change whatever future she's looking at, won't it? Besides, anyone who goes into this thing not thinking they could die is daft. We're all taking that risk. What if I go home, but someone else dies because of it? No doing." He patted Harry's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm in this no matter what. We'll take them down. Don't worry."

****************

But Harry did worry. His whole brilliant plan was starting to seem extremely foolhardy. What if he got Dean killed? Or Ron or Hermione or any of them? What if he got everyone killed? What if Persephone's dream came true, and he died? Did that mean there would be no one to stop Voldemort or did that simply free up the next possibility?

But what else could he do? Wait, hide, and hope that the blood connection he had with Voldemort did not weaken him past the point of defending himself? Harry needed to talk to Dumbledore. He was still not sure if he should tell him about what the D.A. was up to, but he needed advice.

He excused himself after the meeting and wandered to the Headmaster's office. "Come in," Dumbledore called, when Harry knocked.

Dumbledore stood by Fawkes's perch stroking the phoenix's brilliantly colored feathers. "A man is not like a phoenix," he said. Harry was not sure if Dumbledore was talking to him or himself. "We are meant to move on when our time is over."

"I didn't," said Harry. "I was supposed to die, and I didn't."

A twinkle entered Dumbledore's tired eyes. "Well, you have been known to break the rules now and again."

Harry felt his mouth twitch. "Maybe I just never learned them properly."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, his own lip twitching. "I think in your case, Harry, it more a matter of being ruled by the spirit of the law, rather than the letter of it. Perhaps by the mechanisms of the clockwork that keeps order in the universe, you should have died when Voldemort tried to kill you that first time. You were defenseless, and he a very powerful wizard. But, we are more than clockwork machines of flesh and bone. We are creatures of spirit. And it was the spirit that keeps the universe in order that decided to ignore that little rule for a higher law and keep you around, for some purpose I imagine."

Harry felt the tension in his chest ease. "To defeat Voldemort?" he asked hopefully.

"Very likely, though that may not be the limit of it," Dumbledore said kindly. "If it was meant to be the other way around, the universe has wasted a great deal of effort keeping you alive all these years. You haven't always made that easy."

Harry laughed, his nerves breaking to send an odd sort of shiver through his body before settling into something easy and calm.

"Is there something troubling you, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"I was wondering..." Harry began, unsure how to word the question. "How do you let other people risk their lives? I'm not asking in a critical way. I mean as leader of the Order. You can't do everything. You have to let others fight. But you decide when they're allowed to go. I mean you're in charge of the overall plan, and sometimes that involves asking people to take risks. How do you decide when it's acceptable to let them risk themselves? How do you let them go when you can't be there to protect them? I'm not saying you shouldn't. I just want to understand how. Doesn't weigh on you? Do you ever feel like--like it's too much to bear?" Harry felt like he was making a mess of the question.

But Dumbledore seemed to understand. "Often," he said.

Harry studied the Headmaster. "Then how do you?"

"At some point, I have to accept that everyone who joins the Order of the Phoenix and chooses to serve with me against Voldemort has made the choice to risk their lives. The most terrible thing I could do to them is to try to take that choice away. That was my crime against Sirius, and it still weighs heavily on me. I have to accept that my job as leader is to see that their risk is applied in the best way possible to bring about the end to which we have devoted ourselves." Dumbledore brought up his hand to rub his forehead as though warding off a headache. "And then there are times when they take that choice away from me. Knowing my own faults, I should be more forgiving."

Harry felt his brow furrow. "Is there something troubling you, Headmaster?"

"I'm getting old, Harry," Dumbledore said heavily. "Despite my best efforts I have forgotten what it is to be young. Mercifully, I have not forgotten how to love, but I have forgotten something about being in love. I have forgotten the sort of recklessness it can inspire."

He was confused at first, but after a moment's thought, Harry believed he knew what Dumbledore was talking about. "Are you angry with Professor Snape?" he asked.

"Extremely, but it would be very unfair of me to vent that anger on the confused boy he left behind." Dumbledore settled into the chair behind his desk and stared at the fireplace. "I know you never cared for Professor Snape, Harry, but to me he was a friend, a protege, and an ally. It is never easy to understand when one's friends choose to destroy themselves, and it is never easy to accept."

Harry did not say anything but settled into the chair on his side of the desk. Dumbledore drew himself up and turned his pale blue eyes on Harry once again. "Beyond my personal loss, he has left me in a very awkward position. I am now tasked with finding a new Potions Master as well as a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I have over extended myself. I fear worse than anything I have forgotten my own limitations."

"You've been an excellent teacher, Professor," Harry said in what he hoped was a heartening voice. "I was really glad to have you this year, but you need to take care of yourself as well.

Dumbledore gave Harry a small, grateful smile. "Would you like to know what Professor Snape did that made me trust his wish to leave Voldemort's service was genuine?"

Harry tried not to appear too eager. That particular mystery had bothered him for years. "What did he do, sir?"

"He cried."

"He-he what?"

"He cried, sobbed like an infant. That's how I knew his repentance was sincere."

"Because he cried?" Harry repeated, not thinking this sounded like a very good reason at all. "But how could you know he wasn't faking?"

"Because I know Severus Snape," said Dumbledore. "He and your father were probably in my office more than any two students I've ever had. I know the hells he went through. I know how proud he is, and I know how broken he would have to be to cry in front of another man, particularly one that he respected and whose respect he wished to gain."

"But he lied to Voldemort," said Harry. "He must have some acting skills to pull that off, even with the Occlumency."

"The ability to cry on cue would not have done much to impress the Lord Voldemort. He is more likely to be swayed by a show of strength or loyalty. Pity is something alien to him."

"Which is why we have to stop him," said Harry.

"Yes, that is why," said Dumbledore.

****************

Malfoy wasted no time. Only a couple of days after his first meeting, he joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione under the shade of a large elm on the grounds. They had been taking advantage of the good weather to practice Charms. Malfoy sat down beside Hermione, half-curling around her by propping himself up with a palm placed on the ground behind her back. "What?" he asked innocently, catching the look on their faces. "Are my lips still puffy?" He brought his other hand up to check his lips.

"Wh--" Hermione looked as though she did not really want to ask but could not help herself. "Why would your mouth be puffy?"

"I just got back from the hospital wing," Malfoy told them as though he thought this might be of great interest to them. "Had a run in with a nasty bludger. Nearly knocked my teeth out." He let a look of concern cross his pale features. "I've got every faith in Madam Pomfrey, but I haven't checked a mirror yet. Does it look all right?" He gave Hermione a wincing smile that showed his perfectly straight teeth.

Hermione, who Harry belatedly remembered was the daughter of two dentists, hesitated but seemed drawn by medical curiosity. "They--um--they look fine," she said after a brief examination. Malfoy beamed a wide, bright smile at her that reminded Harry unpleasantly of Lockhart. Hermione pulled back and squinted her eyes at Draco. "Are you sure that bludger only hit your mouth? No other head injuries?" She reached up and flipped some of his blonde hair out of place as though checking for bruises. Malfoy's smile became less toothy and rather fixed.

Ron was staring at Malfoy and Hermione with a rather dead expression, as though Malfoy's arrival was a clear portent of the end times. The last thing Harry wanted was another row after Ron and Hermione had started acting normal again. "Malfoy, are you sure it's such a good idea for you to be seen openly with us?" he asked, hoping Malfoy would take the hint.

"Don't see why not," said Malfoy with a shrug. "I told the Death Eater I was trying to get in your good graces. Actually being seen with you backs up the story. Gives Pansy something to write home about. Besides, I've got good news."

"You already told us about the bludger."

Hermione shot Harry a disapproving look. Malfoy briefly flickered his eyes over to Ron. His smile went through a few variations, before he decided to be cheerful again. "We're getting along now, so I'll take that to mean how happy you are that I wasn't grievously injured."

Harry decided Ron was glowering darkly enough for both of them, so he chose to take the high road that Draco had offered. "Yes, that's what I meant. What's your other good news?"

"I have seven new members for the D.A.," Malfoy said quietly.

Hermione blinked. "Seven?"

"All the seventh year Slytherins except for Pansy and Daphne," Draco boasted. "We had a meeting. Apparently, I have fantastic powers of persuasion."

Harry gave Draco a wry look. "You do know Blaise and Millicent are already members?"

Malfoy deflated slightly. "Oh...I guess that explains..." He looked a bit annoyed. "Did seem a bit easier to convince everyone than I thought it would be. Blaise..." Malfoy scowled, then brightened. "Still, five new members, and Persephone and I'll get to work on the prefects next."

As grating as it was to give Malfoy praise, Harry knew he should. Better than leaving it to Hermione. "Good job," he said, and Malfoy beamed. "Bring them by the Room of Requirement on Tuesday, and we'll get them enrolled properly."

"Why not tomorrow?"

"Quidditch practice," said Ron.

"That's right. Last game is Slytherin verses Gryffindor," Malfoy said glumly.

"Should be a good game," Hermione said diplomatically. "They're both strong teams this year."

Malfoy made a noncommittal sound. Harry was a little surprised, given Draco's usual fondness for psychological warfare. He did not think this was Malfoy's attempt at diplomacy either. Draco simply looked depressed. "Don't worry," Harry said to cheer him up. "The truce doesn't extend to the Quidditch field. We still plan to pulverize you."

Draco managed a strained smile. "You wish," he said, though with only a shadow of his usual conviction. Harry would almost rather Draco taunt him. Watching Malfoy mope was dead depressing.

"Boys," Hermione muttered.

****************

Ginny had yelled at Harry during their Monday Quidditch practice, because he had been distracted with plans for the meeting. The other Slytherins were not nearly so bleak about their prospects. Chesann was a minor celebrity these days. Harry made sure that she and anyone else they had recruited from Slytherin was present to welcome the new members. He thought there was a fair chance that Hermione was right about it being easy for Malfoy to backslide if not properly encouraged and had a feeling that would apply to the other Slytherins as well. Making the meeting interesting for Crabbe and Goyle would probably mean a lot of practical spell work, which was not the worst idea in a general sense. Harry needed to make sure that everyone in his army could cast a decent stunning spell.

Malfoy agreed to bring the other Slytherins late to the meeting, as both he and Harry thought it would make a better impression to bring them to a room full of people. As though determined to match his initial boast, Draco also brought both the fifth year Slytherin prefects with him to the Tuesday meeting. The seven new recruits, along with Millicent and Blaise, followed Malfoy into the Room of Requirement. They crowded by the door, facing the two columns of students.

Indigo Stump looked about with wide, almost fearful eyes and clung to Blaise's sleeve. Crabbe and Goyle had their eyes narrowed as though expecting someone to attack them or challenge their right to be there.

"Welcome to the D.A.," said Harry in a clear, loud voice from the far end of the room. He beckoned them forward, and Malfoy lead them down the center aisle. Some of the D.A. was making an effort and giving them friendly smiles, but a fair number of members looked just as nervous as the Slytherins themselves. Nott smiled broadly at a blonde sixth year Slytherin girl who looked back at him with an apologetic shrug.

Malfoy paused and turned to face the Slytherins, backing the last few steps to stand next to Harry. "Before you become full D.A. members we have to ask you to sign a contract saying that you will not divulge any of the D.A.'s secrets to nonmembers," Harry told them, indicating a podium they had acquired to display the contract as formally as possible.

Crabbe shot Draco an annoyed look. "I signed," said Draco, pointing to his own signature on the parchment. "So did everyone else here." He took the quill from the podium stand and held it out towards the Slytherins. "It doesn't hurt. Who's first?"

Indigo swallowed and stepped forward to take the quill from Malfoy. She signed her name, gave Harry a nervous smile, and held the quill out to Alice Wenlock, who edged forward and added her own name to the list. The Slytherins signed one after another. Crabbe took the quill last and stared at the contract as nearly as long as Malfoy had before adding his own name. When he stepped back, the rest of the D.A. broke out into applause. The blonde sixth year ran forward to throw her arms around Nott. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."

Harry sensed Crabbe might be their weak link and extended his hand to the thick Slytherin. "We're very glad to have you," he said. Crabbe shook his hand uncertainly. Harry smiled at him. He waited a minute while things settled, then blew his whistle. "Everyone pair up. We're going to practice stunning spells. Find your partner and spread out. Do not begin until I give the signal."

Harry noticed that the Slytherins were pairing with each other. He considered breaking this up but decided it might be best to ease them into things. To his dismay, Malfoy had decided to be a counter example, and he and Hermione were moving towards an empty spot.

Stop, Harry told himself. How could he expect Malfoy to become comfortable with Muggle-borns if he glared at him every time he came within three feet of Hermione? It was good that he wanted to be friendly. Harry might not like how friendly Malfoy wanted to be, but as much as he hated to admit it, Hermione was the one who had to set the boundaries. It did not matter if the thought of them together made him stomach churn over. He had more important things to focus on right now. He had to let go of this.

He and Ron paced around the room, making sure all the pairs were appropriately spaced and cushions placed safely behind them. Ron was pretending not to notice Malfoy, focusing his attention on the younger members. Harry forced a nervous looking sixth year to pair up with Victoria.

He blew his whistle again. He and Ron demonstrated the spell. Harry revived Ron and told the rest of the D.A. to have a go on his signal. It was organized chaos. Students were knocked back left and right and poorly aimed spells were bouncing off the ceiling. In general it was an improvement to the first time Harry had taught the D.A. to stun, but the sheer number of students he was dealing with was beginning to boggle him.

Before he could truly wrap his mind around it, the startled yelp of several students caught his attention. Now that all the red flashes of light around the room had died off, the gold light emitting from the corner was noticeably bright. Harry jumped over the body of a stunned fourth year as he hurried to join the crowd gathering around Draco and Hermione. They stood, wands pointed at each other, a gold beam connecting the tips. The beam sparked and splintered sending out a cage of golden light, causing the crowd to jump back. Harry doubted anyone in the room had ever seen anything quite like it. Hermione looked far more stunned than worried, which made him think she had it figured out. Malfoy looked stunned, nervous, and curious. Several other people looked frightened, so Harry decided he needed to explain before anyone panicked.

"It's all right!" he shouted in a loud, calm voice. "I've seen this before. You can break the connection, Malfoy. Hermione." He suspected she was letting things play out from curiosity.

Hermione twitched her wand and ducked down. Malfoy copied her, but they had been overly cautious. The lights dissipated harmlessly. "What was that?" someone from the crowd asked faintly.

"Priori Incantatem," Harry told them, taking a few steps forward to stand in the middle of the circle of students. "That's what happened when Voldemort and I faced each other in the graveyard."

"But why did it happen?" Malfoy asked. He was standing straight again.

"Brother wands," Hermione explained. "Your wand core must be a dragon heart string. From the same dragon as mine."

"Just like the same phoenix gave the feathers in both my wand and Voldemort's," Harry said. Some of the new members gasped. "Two brother wands won't work properly against each other. When forced to duel they create something known as Priori Incantatem or the Reverse Spell effect. If we had allowed it to continue, one wand would have forced the other to regurgitate spells. It's very rare, but not impossible that you might encounter it. Did you see how the light had begun to bead? If you concentrate, you can force those beads to touch the tip of your opponent's wand. It will cause their wand to regurgitate...at least that's what happened with me." Harry was not sure what else he could say on the matter, so he motioned for the crowd to breakup. "It's far more likely you're going to run into stunning. So go evennerate you're partners and lets practice some more." The crowd broke up, murmuring. Harry turned to Draco and Hermione who had edged closer. "It might be better if you walked around and helped the others."

They nodded. Malfoy was grinning now. "You know what this means, don't you?" he asked, closing the distance between him and Hermione.

Hermione grinned coolly back at him. "That you're my arch nemesis?" she suggested lightly.

Draco laughed. "Well, there's some deeper connection."

"So you're my long lost brother?" Hermione quipped.

"I certainly hope not."

Harry turned his back and wished he could not hear them. Let it go. Let it go, he told himself. What did it really matter to him if Draco wanted to flirt or Hermione wanted to smile at him? If she wanted to date Malfoy, that was her business. Harry had no right taking that choice from her. He was her friend, not her boyfriend. Besides if he died, Malfoy could be a lot of help keeping things together. So much the better for him to have a vested interest, even if it did make Harry want to sick up. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and closed off that part of his mind. Let it go. Let go.

Harry wandered through the room, paying particular attention to the Slytherins. Wenlock was fairly hopeless, but Crabbe was a surprisingly good shot. After a few pointers Stump managed to keep her hand steady and sent Blaise flying back on the cushions. She immediately ran over to check on him and started gushing apologies. It was wreaking havoc on Harry's ruthless Slytherin image.

Harry was feeling more and more peaceful about the upcoming battle. The students would not be taken down easily. His biggest worry now was keeping the whole thing from the teachers. Malfoy had recruited some of the sixth years to distract Pansy during this particular meeting, but it was not going to be long before the teachers caught on if half the student body went missing two or three times a week. Harry discussed the matter with the prefects, and at length they agreed that D.A. would have to be broken into smaller groups.

The most natural way to divide everyone was by their houses. "We'll have to take turns keeping Pansy distracted," said Draco, but his eyes were already alight with plots for doing so. It was strange, but a bit of relief to hand responsibility for the Slytherins over to him. Ernie and Padma were both eager to organize their own houses. Harry would still pop in on all of them as much as he could. There would still be small inter-house committees addressing one part of the plan or another.

The Room of Requirement was rarely empty from that moment on. There was a constant rotation of students training or researching. Harry tried to manage it all, so they were not stepping on each other. Persephone managed to get her book back from Snape, and Luna and Blaise headed up the research committee on dementors. The Forum continued to be a recruitment ground.

Harry made the seventh year prefects his inner circle. Persephone filled in for Pansy's absence during their strategy sessions. To Harry's relief Malfoy took the strategy meetings pretty seriously and held off flirting with Hermione during them. Hermione had expanded her role of editing Victoria's reports and put herself in charge of information control. She seemed to think it best if most of the students did not know the entirety of their plan. "I'm hoping we don't have any leaks, but if we do, I'd rather not give Voldemort everything."

"I know everyone's thinking it, but we're all reluctant to bring it up," said Draco. "But should we consider giving the older students a crash course in the Unforgivable Curses?"

"No Unforgivables," said Harry flatly. "There'll be a lot of confusion. We're as likely to hit each other as a Death Eater with the killing curse. I won't risk it. And there's point in causing pain. It's our job to capture them, not punish. That's the Ministry's responsibility."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough. But what about the Imperius? Just because it can be used to dark purposes doesn't mean we can't use it to make them just shut up and sit down."

"No Unforgivables," Harry repeated firmly and braced himself for an argument.

Draco however just shrugged. "You're the boss." Harry blinked at him. "What about some of the lesser dark magic spells? Victoria knows some nasty ones. A bit borderline on the legality, but some of them may be effective enough to be worth it."

Harry's first impulse was to flat out refuse to use anything resembling dark magic, but something in Draco's tone gave him pause. Malfoy was not advocating anything. He was simply ticking off options. "I'd have to review them on a spell by spell basis," Harry said at length.

Persephone gave him a grim smile. "Harry, I don't know about those spells specifically, but I think it's really important that we agree it's better not to fight fair."

"That would be the Slytherin department," Ron muttered.

Persephone scowled at him. "It's not about being Slytherin. It's about being practical. This is a war. I don't want to kill anyone either but trying to fight fair is going to get us killed. The Death Eaters are certain to be using dark magic. It may be the right thing to do, but we're giving ourselves a bit of a handicap if we're not willing to fling it back at them."

"That doesn't mean we should sink to their level," said Padma resolutely.

"No, we shouldn't," agreed Harry. "But Persephone has a point. Not just about the dark magic. We'd best assume Death Eaters are going to be more experienced than us. And we all know some of the members in our army struggle more than others. I don't want anyone trying to take them on alone. We need to fight them in groups. No one is to engage a Death Eater unless they have at least three other students with them. Student who find themselves groups of three or less, need to put all the energy into retreating to the fall back points. I don't want anyone to try to stand alone."

"That goes for you too, Harry," said Persephone, fixing him with a Hermione-like glare.

Harry bit back a sigh. "I'm a bit of a special case. I have to draw Voldemort away. If there are other students around, he'll use them against me." Malfoy was making a face. "What?"

"That's very noble and all, Potter, but one, the point of this army is that we're working together to bring him down. You ought to have backup. And two, let's say that Voldemort believes the rumor that you're the one with the power to destroy him, why would he let you take him off somewhere alone?"

"It's never stopped him before," said Hermione.

Harry frowned with concentration. It was getting less annoying when Malfoy made a good point, and this one was worth thinking over. Voldemort had been more reluctant to attack him, since he was unable to get his hands on the prophecy. Yes, killing Harry was still probably a big priority for him, but how could Harry make sure that Voldemort personally would be focused on him above all else?

It came to him. He fixed his eyes on Malfoy and felt a malicious smile spread over his face. Draco actually looked unnerved. "What?"

"You're about to become the Dark Lord's favorite person."

Draco looked stunned and perplexed, and he was not the only one.

Harry was feeling that giddy rush again. "You're going to give Voldemort the one thing he wants most...the second half of the prophecy."

"Harry, no!"

Harry fixed his eyes on Hermione's alarmed face. "Why not? He needs to think he has a chance at killing me, or he'll never come after me. I can't keep hiding from him forever. This is going to be my best shot. I just need the rest of you to keep the Death Eaters occupied."

"What does the prophecy say?" asked Draco. Harry told him. Draco gave him a somewhat awed look. "You're mad, Potter. Between that and what Blaise worked out, he'll knock the castle down to get to you."

The grim grin spread back across Harry's face. "I'm counting on it."

****************

Madam Pomfrey developed a new following. Neville talked her into demonstrating basic healing magic to the students. The Hufflepuffs in particular took an interest, but Neville made sure several students from each house gained some competency. Harry had thought Persephone would be interested, but she was skiddish about healing magic. "It's just my magic can be a bit...unpredictable, particularly when I'm nervous," she said curling her fingers through her silver hair. "That's why I like theory so much. I'm less likely to hurt someone."

"Luna said a Silver Child was supposed to be rather gifted," said Harry.

"Load of rubbish," Persephone grumbled. "Stupid magazine article. I'm pretty decent at some things. My transfiguration work is all right, when I can focus on it, but I'm very hit or miss in Charms. I'm pretty pathetic in everything this year."

"I'm sure there's something you're good at," he encouraged her. "You just have to play to your strengths."

"Oh, I am really good at the Tayloris spell!" she said happily. "I've been making a little pocket money adjusting some of the other girls dress robes for them. Do yours still fit all right?"

Harry had had too much on his mind to worry about his dress robes. He had not tried them on since he bought them two summers ago. "Dunno," he admitted.

Persephone insisted that he run up and check while she waited by the common room entrance, and Harry did so to humor her. His dress robes were a little on the short side, so he brought them back down. His aunt dragged him to an empty classroom and made him put his dress robes back on. When he was done, she inspected them and tapped her wand against her chin. After a moment's consideration, she pointed her wand at Harry and said, "Tayloris." A golden glow circled his robes, and they lengthened a bit. He rolled his shoulders. The fabric was less tight and fitted him better. "Thanks," he said. Persephone beamed. He chased her out of the classroom, so he could change back.

She greeted him with one of her big hugs when he came out. Harry was getting a bit more used to those and hugged her back. It was nice to see her happy. She had become very serious with all the battle preparations, and it did not suit her. "Do you still visit Myrtle?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes," Persephone sighed. She took Harry's arm and nestled her head against his shoulder while they walked. "I've been talking to her about crossing over. I'm not coming back next year, and she really doesn't get on that well with the other ghosts."

"What do you mean by crossing over?" asked Harry.

"You know, dieing properly, not lingering here any longer, passing through the veil, whatever you want to call it."

"Can ghosts die?" asked Harry, as they sat down on the stairs. "I'd sort of assumed they were stuck."

"Well, I don't know any personally that have done it, but theoretically, there's a portal that opens to the afterlife when a person dies. If a ghost was close enough at the right moment, they could enter the portal instead of the person. I think the Baron called it riding a death. Most ghosts linger because they fear death, but Myrtle stayed to get back at Olive Hornby. Which probably wasn't a good reason, but it's done."

"If any of the ghosts want their chance, they just need to hang out in the Great Hall at the Leaving Dance," Harry said heavily. "Things are going to be messy."

Persephone squeezed his arm more tightly. "It will be okay. We're doing the right thing," she said softly. In a louder voice she added. "That's not the worst idea though. Do you want me to talk the ghosts?"

"Yeah..." said Harry slowly. "Talk to the ghosts...and Peeves if you think he can keep a secret--perhaps you ought to wait to the last minute with him...and the boggart."

****************

The Gryffindor-Slytherin game took place the last Saturday in May. It was a clear, bright day with a dazzling blue sky. Despite the fact it would be his last game at Hogwarts and the Quidditch cup would go to the victor, Harry had never felt more at ease before a match. Both teams were determined, but the tension between them was at an all time low.

The Slytherin team captain, Jonathan Weatherby, gave Ginny a hard smile as they shook hands. Ginny gave him a radiantly confident one in return. Harry was expecting a dazzling display of overconfidence from Malfoy, but the pale Slytherin was whiter than usual. He started to ask Draco if he were ill, but no one rescheduled Quidditch matches for little things like that.

"Ready to eat my dust, Malfoy?" Harry called hoping to inspire a snappy comeback. Instead Draco blanched. Oh, this is no fun, Harry thought. Ron caught his eye and shrugged. The Quaffle was released into play and the Slytherin chasers took possession first. The crowd was chanting Chesann's name.

Harry shot off to look for the snitch. He made a quick pass around the field then slowed to a rest at a high altitude, so he could check how the rest of the game was going below. Malfoy came to a rest just beside him, and Harry realized that Malfoy must have tailed him through his loop. "Are you just going to follow me the whole time?" asked Harry.

Malfoy did not deign to so much as look at him in reply. His steely grey eyes were searching the skies. Harry was finding this new tactic very annoying. This was the first time he had ever wanted to hear Malfoy speak during a Quidditch game, and naturally the Slytherin was ignoring him.

Though not entirely, it seemed. When Harry tried to fly away, Malfoy was right beside him. It was the first time he and Draco had been on brooms that matched each other for speed, so this time it would really came down to a test of skills. Harry smiled. Okay, Malfoy, let's see how well you can fly.

The answer turned out to be pretty well, when Draco was not expending his energy on taunting the Gryffindor team. He followed Harry through each breakneck twist and turn. Harry got so tied up in testing Malfoy that for a moment he forgot about the snitch. He pulled up short when he realized his mistake. The Slytherin chasers were slowly gaining the edge over Gryffindor. He stole a glance at Ron and saw that his friend was beginning to look flustered. That was never a good sign.

Harry had pulled his eyes away to look for the snitch once more when a cry of despair rose up from the Slytherin crowd. Malfoy swore audibly. It took Harry a few seconds to piece together that the star Slytherin chaser had been hit by a bludger. The Slytherin team captain called for a time out. Chesann was escorted off the field by Madam Hooch. He and Malfoy broke apart to conference with their teams.

Ginny looked grim. "Jonathan doesn't want to concede the match, so neither are we. They're up by twenty points now, but that won't last long with Chess gone. Malfoy's the only chance the Slytherin team has, so watch yourself, Harry."

With Chesann's retirement from the field, Harry thought the kindest thing to do would be to end the match quickly. The spirit of the Slytherin team seemed to be broken. Malfoy rejoined him in the air looking more grim faced and determined than ever. The snitch was being elusive. Harry thought he saw a glint of gold and dove toward it, only to discover it was someone's watch. Malfoy was right on top of him the entire time.

This was getting serious. Slytherin and Gryffindor were tied now, but they would have to get a hundred and sixty point ahead before who caught the snitch became irrelevant. Malfoy might not be cheery, but he was flying better than ever. The last time Harry had played against Draco catching the snitch had been a near thing, and Malfoy was on a much better broom this time.

The seekers were too close together for either team to risk sending bludgers their way. Still the bludgers had a mind of their own. Harry and Draco had to break apart to avoid a particularly aggressive one. It only bought Harry a few seconds of relief before Draco was back on him again. He did not dare spare a glance to see who was scoring, though he was vaguely aware of the rise and fall of the cheers.

Another small detail entered Harry's mind. Draco was taller than he was, and therefore had longer arms. If it came down to the two of them being neck and neck, that would give Malfoy an advantage. He had to figure out a way to use Malfoy's strategy against him. Harry licked his lips. Time to try the Wronski Feint. He began to circle the pitch at half-speed. Malfoy flew forward so he had a slight lead on Harry. Harry paced himself. On three...

He broke off suddenly from Malfoy and sped towards ground at the center of pitch. He sensed Malfoy follow, but did not dare take his eyes off the ground. He would need to pull up at just the right moment, so that Malfoy would not be able to.

And then Harry realized Malfoy wasn't following. Malfoy must have recognized it was a feint halfway down. No, worse, Harry realized as he pulled up from his dive. Malfoy had spotted the snitch. Harry pushed his Firebolt as hard as it would go, but Malfoy's Timebender was just as fast. Harry was almost close enough to grab Draco's robes, when the Slytherin's hand closed around the snitch.

The roar from the crowd was deafening but distant all at once. Harry was stunned. He had never lost the snitch to Malfoy before. He gritted his teeth and tried not to take it too hard. It was possible that Gryffindor Chasers had scored enough points to save them the cup. With a bit of effort, he forced himself to look at the scoreboard.

One hundred eighty points to one hundred ninety.

Gryffindor had won.

Harry laughed with relief. Malfoy seemed unaware of the score. He was looking at the snitch in his hand with the sort of wonder usually reserved for a first-born child.

There was a bit of an argument after they set down. Apparently, the Quaffle had been in route to the goal before Malfoy caught the snitch but there was debate as to whether the ball had actually scored before the game ended.

Harry could not have cared less. Either way Gryffindor had the cup. Ron and Jonathan were shouting their selves hoarse over it. Ginny told Ron to stop being a git and announced she was going to visit Chesann in the hospital wing before storming off the field. Malfoy did not seem to be paying much attention. He was still cradling the snitch in one hand.

In the end, Madam Hooch declared the match a draw. Ron was still sulking about it during the victory celebration in the Gryffindor common room, but he finally stopped after Olive Oglethorpe planted a kiss on his cheek and claimed he was the only thing that had kept the game from being a Slytherin win. Harry caught Hermione's eye, and they gave each other as-long-as-he's-happy looks.

The party went well into the night, and Harry was one of the last ones to linger in the common room. He was too exhausted to move from the spot where he had collapsed onto the couch.

Hermione and most of the other students had gone up to bed. Harry was contemplating it. The adrenaline from the match had left him hours ago, and his head felt very heavy. He was reluctant to concede that the day had ended. All that was left to look forward after this were the exams and the dance.

With a bit of an effort Harry raised his head. Ron was lolling across the other end of the couch. He was using his wand to pop blue Droobles bubbles that were nesting near the ceiling. It stirred a memory in Harry, and he gave his best friend and assessing look. "Hey, Ron, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, mate." Ron must have caught something in Harry's tone, because he straightened up and gave him a curious look.

"When you said you'd kill Malfoy if he touched Hermione, you didn't seriously mean you'd kill him. Did you?"

Harry was a little worried that the question might upset Ron, but he took it in stride. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

Harry felt a bubble of relief, but Ron made a face. "I will if he hurts her, though."

The bubble inside of Harry turned into lead. "You mean physically, right? You wouldn't take his head off if he stood her up or something."

Ron snorted. "Naw, it would serve her right if he stood her up. She should know better than to trust a Malfoy."

Harry relaxed. If Malfoy ever attacked Hermione, he deserved to have his head taken off. Not just because of Hermione, though that would have been reason enough, but it would also likely mean that his entire conversion had been a charade. As Malfoy was so fond of reminding them, they were at war.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," yawned Harry. "I'm just tired. It was a stupid question. Think I'm just letting the stress get to me."

"Naw, it's not a stupid question," said Ron. "I'm not going to go crazy on you, okay? I'm not going to pretend to like Malfoy, either, but if he's can help, I can put up with him. For your sake."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. It means a lot."

"You know we would face down Voldemort with you if you asked," Ron said seriously. "There's nothing saying that you have to face him alone."

"I say it," Harry said firmly. "It's more practical than noble. He can cast the Imperius Curse, and I can't be fighting my friends while I'm trying to fight him. Just keep the Death Eaters away. That's my best chance."

Harry could tell Ron was not crazy about the plan, but it appeared that was his last protest. "Thought you'd say that." Ron shifted himself over to sit closer to Harry and poke in a conspiratorial whisper. "I was thinking about your plan, and you know what would be a good place for a duel. Classroom Eleven. The one set up for Firenze with all the trees. There's a clear space in the middle, but lots of trees to dodge behind and windows."

Trees? Like in a forest? Harry thought back to Snape and his warning and the hundred other morbid predictions that had been made against him. He let his head drop back on the couch and shrugged. "Might as well."