Harry Potter and the Battle for the Light

The Valley

Resistance of the Allies Headquarters, near The Valley

Thursday 24thof October

Somewhere in Scotland, near what used to be the most prestigious magical school in all of England, miles and miles of mountains stretched towards the horizon until the eye could see no more. Hundreds of fragments of rock, sometimes as small as a pebble whilst occasionally the size of a mountain, remained clustered together. If someone would have been forced to determine how said massive masses of matter arranged themselves in such a beautiful yet dangerous manner, the best answer would be the simplest and at the same time the most mystifying: the magic of Nature.

There was a form of peace and quiet that could not be found anywhere else in the world. The silence of the mountains was beautiful and eternal, yet not oppressive. A troubled soul could seek greatly needed solitude in a cave, but it could also find company with the wild. It was somewhere that exuded an almost tangible sense of harmony, company and sorrow, within a place so full of life that could heal the wounds of the heart and air so pure that could cleanse the soul and kindle the senses.

Wildlife was as abundant as the space the mountains provided. Creatures of every type, size and shape called the forests, caves and peaks their homes. Like the wind, these animals roamed the lands She provided and carried out their purposes in life. Chipmunks jumped contentedly over the barks of the trees, their excited fingers grabbing and tossing bits of food. Dozens of many different breeds of birds sang their tunes while they sat on the ground, rocks and branches, adding to the cacophony of chants that filled the air in the mornings.

Such were the observations of twenty-four year-old Hermione Granger-Weasley, sitting on top of the world. The edge of an enormous rock-cliff was mere feet from where she sat cross-legged on a flat stone, the cool winds of autumn caressing her soft face as she watched the sun set in the horizon. Her bushy brown hair flowed back gracefully with the gusts of air as she waited by the edge of her favourite forest. Out of everywhere else in the world she had visited this was the place she felt at ease, where her body could relax and her ever-whirring mind could shut down and just be. Like all life that surrounded her, she now called this place home.

Hermione's gaze turned to the left and away from the last dazzling rays of sunlight. Miles and miles of forest stretched down towards the base of the mountains. Nature called the season and so the vegetation obeyed, turning from vibrant green to dormant auburn, waiting for the right time to blossom again. To the right she could see the mountains and the highest peaks it offered, some of which were already tainted white, a sign of the incoming winter. There were hundreds of mountains. Some stood tall, sharp, dark and foreboding, while others rose small, gentle and quiet, painted with a soft shade of brown. It was one of the latter she enjoyed the most, and where she currently sat alone, waiting.

Invisible for many others but clear to her, two large and murky mountains stretched parallel to each other. She estimated that they were at the very least a mile long, six hundred feet wide and with a distance of around a thousand feet between them. A small lake of clear water took up most of the northern section of the valley, constantly connected to the numerous flowing rivers that came from the mountains. The frequent rainfalls, characteristic of the place, often flooded the place.

The landscape provided with hours of visual entertainment, time where a person could just watch and relax. Those were the only moments when she could forget, drift away and receive the much needed soothing that nature provided for restless souls. All in all, it was perfect.

What made this place Hermione's, and many others', home was the vast clearing between the two parallel mountains. It was the location the members of the Order of the Phoenix and their allies had chosen to replace their lost homes; a spot on earth where they could subsist and hide from the darkness of the world. It was the place in which they could try to forget the horrors that loomed outside the protections they built, but never ignore.

The barely visible glittering of lights caught her attention. The sun was completely covered from view now and had already given away to the night, prompting the witches and wizards that inhabited The Valley to light fires and torches. Most noticeable of all were a dozen of ten feet-tall blue flames that illuminated the boundaries of the small village on the highest parts of the mountains. People called those the 'Watch Towers', which were occupied by witches and wizards in charge of keeping a lookout for possible threats.

Many wards had been placed and the natural landscape offered protection but the Committee of Security and Warding decided that post-guards were both useful and necessary. While other protections that only needed to be monitored and reinforced once every few days ensured that no one could see or gain access, people felt safer knowing that someone was watching the surroundings. Moreover, wards could be broken down whereas the guards had means of alerting the Order of potential enemies that had yet to attack, which enabled them to plan a suitable defence.

Although the occupants of The Valley were few, the small village was always bustling with activity. There were many things that needed to be done and others that screamed for attention but lack of manpower left them ignored. Thus, Hermione made a point of Apparating at least twice a week to her private spot. She usually enjoyed coming in the morning to watch the sun rise, the perfect preparation for a new day of hard work. Today, however, she waited alone at night, shivering from the now bitter winds, waiting for her friends and husband to come back home.

With practiced precision gained from years of experience Hermione pulled a wand out of the front-pocket of her cloak and tapped it on her chest. Instantly, a wave of hot air spread inside her clothes and effectively ended the shivering. To add warmth she closed her left hand into a fist, concentrated for a split-second, and opened it to reveal a flickering bluish flame sitting on her palm. She sighed and settled herself for a long and anxious wait.

It took the better part of an hour for something to happen in order to startle Hermione out of her thoughts. Far away from where she was sitting, precisely by the boundaries of The Valley, the tell-tale blue of a portkey flashed for a split-second and then vanished. She worriedly stood up and was about to leave when she saw a shower of yellow sparks coming from where the previous light had disappeared. Her knees almost gave away in relief at the lights that signalled only a need for medical attention.

Although it seemed heartless to think of an injured person as a relief experience had taught her that things could always turn out worse. Hence, the beaming witch Apparated to the edge of the wards in dying need of seeing her beloved husband and friends alive and well.

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, somewhere inside The Valley

Unknown

There was darkness but sometimes he could see. All that mattered was that, though he floated in a numb daze, though he knew not who he was or what he was, he was free. In between the verges of consciousness and unconsciousness Harry Potter fought to find the light. In a lapse of maybe seconds, minutes, hours or days, he could not tell, darkness took him.

In the distance birds sung their tunes and owls hooted cheerfully. The sound of the wind filtering gently through the gaps between branches and leaves called for him, urging his mind to drift into awareness once again. Ever so slowly, the world reclaimed him and he was back. First he felt himself warm, tucked tightly underneath various soft sheets and over a comfortable mattress. Next he felt the air on his skin, enticing and exciting as always. Harry rested comfortable for a few minutes, feeling his surroundings with his senses, his tired mind too dazed and unresponsive to form coherent thoughts yet.

Harry's eyelids gently opened and his mind protested against the onslaught of new information. It was simply too much to process, blurred colours only forming around him, so he closed his eyes shut. Funny thing how the brain works, for the first coherent thought he was aware of having concerned his not so dear ex-potions professor. It was thanks to him that Harry no longer required glasses. Still, he could not form clear images and he cursed the man for his questionable spell-work. Severus Snape, the spy, the traitor and the murderer; always carrying around his grudge and yet had pledged himself to protect the son of his sworn enemy. What would it be of him without Severus? Harry held a special place in his soul for the man. It was neither his heart nor his mind. It could not be called hate or love. He supposed he cared for him, but at the same time he did not like him. Again, he wondered, how funny the workings of the brain are.

But there were sounds, he realized. Voices that called for his attention and pulled on his thoughts. Harry ignored them, he was too comfortable and he rather hear wind and nature's call, no need to respond just yet. Yes, they would have to wait. After all, why was he so important? What was with him that merited the annoying shakings he was receiving? He certainly did not want them. Why would Harry pull out of his numbness if he felt so at home?

And then it hit him with the force of a speeding train coming off its tracks. Minerva, Kingsley and Hagrid. Hagrid. Azkaban. Dementors. Break in and break out, do not play the hero. Ron. Was it Nev? Yes, it was him throwing rocks. Why? Death Eaters and Aurors. Why did Harry have rocks floating around him? Was he gravity? Were objects supposed to circle in orbit around him for the simple fact that he just was? No, Voldemort was there.

The influx of memories flooded his brain and he wiggled uncomfortably in bed. One by one Harry tore the incoming images apart until he could make sense of what he was seeing. Voldemort came and attacked, but they all got away. He was safe at home, resting from his injuries and excessive use of his reserves. That meant there was no need to stay in bed, it was always busy in The Valley and his duties awaited him. Plus, his friends and colleagues had probably scheduled a meeting that he had to attend, the time depending solely on exactly when would the most gravely injured patients woke up. But first, he would have breakfast. Yes, his tired body shouted for energy. Maybe he could call Kreacher for some food. The little elf was always willing to aid Master Harry and he was a fantastic cook.

With the prospect of something nice for breakfast, Harry opened his eyes and sat up.

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Hospital Wing

Friday 25thof October

It had been a busy night for her. The patients had arrived in varied states of injuries. Luckily, none were life-threatening but she had to make sure that the unpredictable did not happen. Not on her watch. She would rather stay up all night bustling around the Hospital Wing than lose a patient. That was just who she was. Madam Pomfrey would not stand for failure.

Her job was especially hard when personal feelings were involved. Poppy had to constantly fight the urge to burst out crying and curl herself into a ball when she feared too deeply for her patients' health. Needless to say, when Kingsley, Minerva, Hagrid and Harry were brought to her in advanced states of shock and injury, she almost lost her nerve.

Still, she managed to hold herself together. Besides her friends and colleagues, another group of five injured ex-students of her needed attention. Although they were not as harmed and battered as the others, medical treatment was necessary. So Madam Pomfrey did what she did best: she healed.

First she tended to the most serious patients. Charms flew out of her wand and potions dropped from her hands in frenzy as she ran around her domains, making sure everyone were all right. The Hospital Wing had been stocked full with potions because injuries were frequent in The Valley, or more precisely, outside. Nonetheless, she was forced to send for Severus and request specific brews right away lest she risked the health of Minerva and Harry, who suffered severe energy loss and extensive magical weakness.

After working all night she managed to sleep for a few hours; only a few. There were only a number of things Poppy could do when her patients were unconscious. In order to ensure a speedy recovery most of them would need further testing and probably more potions. That was why, after she woke up, Madam Pomfrey continued to tend to her friends, colleagues and ex-students. She tested them all and administered her most foul and powerful potions. It was imperative that they made a swift recovery. Matters needed to be resolved, tasks had to be carried out and she just could not stand watching them weak on their beds. The youngest had all been cleared away already with promises that if they rested she would grant permission to see their friends. Only Minerva, Kingsley, Harry and Hagrid stayed in bed.

Fortunately, all had woken up at some point and taken their potions. That is, all but one.

Harry Potter was still sleeping soundly in his bed. She was sure that her patient was well and healthy; he would just need time to recharge his magical core. It would not take long, she knew. Although it was one of the largest she had ever seen, the man was still young. A person's metabolism aided in the recovery, meaning that the youth, like Harry, could eat high-proteined foods and accelerate the process.

However, he had to wake up first and she was beginning to lose her patience. If she had not known any better, Madam Pomfrey would have said that Harry was doing it on purpose. But that was just ridiculous. Whatever faults the boy had, he was anything but considerate. True, he was the occasional prankster and enjoyed a good laugh once in a while but Merlin knew he needed it. Poor boy had fallen over heels for the Weasley girl and someone had taken her away from him. Poppy knew what loss was all too well so she empathized. Still, for his own good, Harry needed to wake, sit up and eat something while she double-checked his health.

With that thought in mind, she proceeded to poke him gently.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she called tenderly in her kindest tone. Normally she would get right on to business in her briskly tone, but the boy had just brought back Minerva and Hagrid, and she had missed them both very much.

Still, Harry did not even stir.

"Mr. Potter! Harry! Wake up!" she called a little louder.

Madam Pomfrey received no response and her patience was wearing thin. She was not particularly known for her patience and she knew it, but just did not care. If someone managed to land him or herself in the Hospital Wing, well, that was their responsibility. As long as they were under her care they would do as she said. And if they did not, well...

That is way she continued to call for Harry. The boy still did not wake up and she lost her patience. Poppy began poking, prodding and shaking the boy gently and gradually more vigorously while she called his name. If the boy wanted to sleep in that was fine! But she would do her work first and Madam Pomfrey needed the boy awake.

After what seemed like ages the boy opened his eyes, closed them and began to move his body slowly as if he was testing for injuries. The nerve! As if a Healer would leave injuries untreated! Still, the boy tested his body and she allowed him that. If that was what he needed to do to wake up then fine, let him do it. Finally, when it seemed he had finished, the boy opened his eyes and sat up abruptly.

"POTTER!" she exclaimed in surprise. "You nearly gave me heart failure!"

Harry looked around and once he was sure of his surroundings locked eyes with her. Madam Pomfrey considered herself to be professional. She was supposed to do her job and the patient had to stay in bed and obey until she said so. But there was something about the Potter's that struck a soft spot. James had been too charming for his own good and she often relented under the sad puppy-eyes he gave her. Harry was no different. As soon as they found each other's faces Harry's face split into a grin and winked at her. Cheeky brat!

"Good morning, Poppy!" he said cheerfully. "May I say you look dashing today? You must have gotten your beauty sleep last night!"

"Mr. Potter lay down this instant!" Madam Pomfrey said in the sternest tone of voice she could muster. She desperately tried to hide her blush as she pushed the boy down. When she finally got him to lie down she produced her wand and noticed proudly that her blush was under control. "Now let me check you over, young man!"

As soon as the words left her mouth she realized she had made a mistake. She froze as Harry sat up and took her hand in his, gently removing her wand and placing it on the bedside table.

"My dear, Poppy," he began theatrically as he placed her hand over his chest, "you do wonders for my ego. I'm afraid I'd like to have breakfast before you 'check me over.' Maybe we can continue this little chat when I'm done?" he finished wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Madam Pomfrey blushed profusely and before she could even react Harry hugged her and stood up. He picked up her wand, gave it a flourish and a wooden table appeared out of thin air. Next he conjured two chairs, some cutlery and took a seat.

"Kreacher!"

A small house-elf popped right in front of her and bowed at Harry. He was wearing a white cotton shirt and khaki shorts. Apparently he was not too fond of shoes for he only wore a pair of immaculately clean white socks.

"Good morning, Master Harry. Master is healed?" he asked politely.

"Oh yes, Kreacher, I feel great, thank you. I am starving though, anything we can do about that?" he asked suggestively.

"Of course, Master Harry. Kreacher can bring you breakfast," the elf said. With a last bow he clicked his fingers and disappeared with another pop.

Madam Pomfrey, who had watched the whole exchange with a mixture of embarrassment, amusement and exasperation, blinked out of her daze and straightened her robes. The cheeky brat had just woken up and he had already made her blush twice!

"Mr. Potter! You are recovering from severe magical depletion, multiple bruises and cuts. You should get back to bed this instant!" she commanded in an attempt to regain some semblance of control. Still, Potter didn't move; he watched her innocently, his startling green eyes sparkling with mirth. "Pray tell, Mr. Potter, what do you think you're playing at?"

"Ah, Poppy, I almost forgot you were standing there," he replied unabashedly. "Well, what with you gaping and blushing, I merely thought you were fine with the accommodations. Perhaps you'd like silver cutlery? I'd go for gold but you know that can't be conjured..."

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, The Village

Friday 25th of October

After an excellent breakfast, which he shared with a protesting Healer, Harry left the Hospital Wing under promise to return should he suddenly found himself weak. Madam Pomfrey could surely be stubborn. Harry didn't mind though, because, as annoying as he had found her to be in the past, Poppy came to be a source of amusement over the years. She had more quirks and eccentricities than most around The Valley and Harry always appreciated the strangest personality traits in people. Albus Dumbledore's voracious appetite for Lemon Drops and Dobby's fondness for hideous mismatching socks had been among his favourites. He only hoped he would see them again.

Poppy informed him that Kingsley, Minerva and Hagrid were already recovering from their ordeals. She was certain that they would be walking within the next two days so he wasn't particularly concerned. Still, since they needed to stay in bed for the rest of the day at least, the debrief meeting of the Order would take place in the Hospital Wing. Nonetheless, that was no trouble. Kreacher could bring the members drinks and Harry could smoke his pipe anywhere. With a wordless blessing for the goblins' harmless smoking tobacco he pushed the metal doors open and Harry exited the sterilized quarters.

Harry made his way through the small village, greeting those he knew and nodding politely at his acquaintances. He was hoping to find one if his friends along the way towards his house to check on their health, or to run into the specialized armour-tailor for some quick questions, but he found none of them. Instead Harry enjoyed watching his surroundings. The Valley was undoubtedly a cheerful place most of the time. There were some children running around already that for some reason felt the need to wake up fairly early. Wizards were already engaged in conversations and they waved as he passed, walking leisurely through the dirt tracks of the village.

To his left and right he could see the personal quarters of the inhabitants. Since there was so much space available people had agreed that building general headquarters wasn't the best policy. Sometimes they had to bring whole families and nobody expected them to feel comfortable without each other. Moreover, little children and sullen teenagers didn't make for good roommates.

At night the streets, or dirt tracks, were illuminated by torches and gas-lamps that were suspended in mid-air. During the day, thankfully, they disappeared until they were needed. Harry had lost count already of the many times muggleborns and their parents had fainted upon entering The Valley. Magic was displayed blatantly and flying torches was not the best policy when dealing with impressionable newcomers.

Harry trudged slowly forward, watching happily as the villagers yawned while they opened their different little shops. All the sacrifices everyone had made, all the planning and the effort had resulted in a centralized resistance with the best defences that could be provided. The losses they had suffered seemed almost worth it as he watched the people around him. Many of them wore content smiles on their faces, slowly regaining their footing as they recovered from the shock of leaving their homes and the despair of losing their loved ones. It was far from a peaceful and quiet existence but it was the best they could have.

The inhabitants of The Valley didn't use gold as currency, which would have been much too complicated. Instead they traded items and services to make sure everyone was provided for. More often than not they came upon someone who needed exile and was only too happy to join the community. Due to the sheer amount of people they had rescued the Order now had many specialized talents at their disposal. Those who didn't have any particular job or specialty didn't mind learning or helping with the greenhouses to grow food. It wasn't even a full-time job. House-elves were more than adept at hunting and, not surprisingly, they thoroughly enjoyed the activity. Kreacher had once told Harry that the elves originally hunted for their masters but time had changed customs. Nowadays the pure-blooded wizards, the ones who normally owned servants, didn't approve of hunting. According to them it was barbaric and ungraceful, not fitting for a proper family. In The Village, however, they didn't have such queries.

Harry's breath became laboured and not for the first time he doubted his reasons for choosing such a secluded spot on the top of a small hill. He did enjoy the privacy and the view but climbing every day wasn't that much convenient. Besides, whatever he had told Poppy, he was in need of some serious rest. He had to admit that he usually enjoyed the exercise though. It was very important to stay fit, he knew from experience, and physical fitness was encouraged and even taught by a muggle who used to be a sports teacher. However, at this time in the morning, after breaking into a heavily guarded prison, Apparition sounded like a great idea. Too bad the wards prevented such means of transport inside the village.

As he walked Harry looked up at the sky. The sun was shining dully from behind the mountains, occasionally blocked by the storm-clouds gathering. Harry hated this season with passion. Not only was October a bad reminder of what he had lost but the weather was unbearable. He tightened his black cloak around himself to block out the cold and sped up. He desperately needed a bath, maybe something to drink and find his familiar. If anyone were to say it Harry would deny it, but there was no doubt in Harry's mind that his familiar scared him senseless when it got angry. Since Harry had forgotten to tell Xen about the previous night's visit to 'Hell on Earth', he was expecting some sort of retaliation or at least cold indifference.

After the annoyingly long half-climb half-walk he came to a halt at the top of a hill. A decent-sized house stood in front of him. It was a single block made out of wood, much like Hagrid's old hut but slightly bigger. The roof was v-shaped, also made of dark wood, and extended a few feet past the side-walls. The building was rather simple but good enough for his tastes. It gave him the feeling that it was something personal, not just a temporary place to live in while he waged war.

Harry walked cautiously and pushed the door open. Fortunately for him, his familiar was nowhere in sight. He exhaled in relief, entered his house and closed the door behind him. The first room was a simple kitchen. Since Harry ate alone most of the time he spent in his house he didn't bother with a table. Instead he had installed a wooden counter with high stools to sit on.

The bedroom was to his left with no door that separated it from the rest of the rooms. A four-posted bed, a bed-side table and a wardrobe was all the furniture he had. A white wooden-door separated his bedroom from the bathroom. Likewise, it only had the essentials but he had added a rather large bathtub and a full-body mirror.

Straight past the kitchen was the living room/study, his favourite part of the place. Aside from being the biggest room it was also the most comfortable and better decorated. The walls were painted dark green. The floor was made out of wood, like the rest of the house, but Harry had decided to make it more personal; a cream-coloured rug covered the middle of the room with a sturdy looking perch over it, similar to the one Albus Dumbledore had for Fawkes but without the ash-tray. A small desk made out of polished wood, and covered in parchment, stood to the far left of the room with a comfortable armchair to sit on and a mid-sized window behind it. To the right there was a small table that served the purpose of a place to poise glasses and small snacks. Around said table were two squashy armchairs and a black leather sofa that could seat two people; a small glass-cabinet filled with drinks behind it. Towards the end of the room there was a small fireplace to keep the place warm. The Valley wasn't connected to the floo-network but he didn't mind. Unexpected visitors jumping out of the fireplace was something Harry didn't miss.

He sighed in contentment as he inhaled the strong smell of wood and the lingering scent of his pipe. With a happy smile he went to the bathroom and took a long hot shower, allowing the water to sooth him and completely wake him up. After he finished he stood naked in front of the body-sized mirror in his bedroom and took in his appearance.

At almost six foot-tall Harry had reached his maximum height. His messy mop of black hair had grown noticeably and now reached the small of his back. He always preferred to tie it into a ponytail lest he risked the possibility of it coming in between his line of vision. His face had also changed during the years; the sharp edges of his chin and cheekbones suggested maturity and experience beyond his age. The most startling feature though, was his eyes. People always complimented him on his eyes; the two emerald pools shone with emotion and revealed sharp cunning.

Under the serious training the muggle had imposed on them Harry's body had changed as well. He knew he was never going to be big and muscled like Ron or Neville, but the changes were good enough for him. His shoulders were slightly broader and his back straight, carrying an air of confidence that the fifteen year-old Harry Potter would have never achieved. His muscles, while not big and well-defined, gave him some much needed strength, endurance and coordination. The muggle might have been a bit neurotic about physical fitness at first but Harry was infinitely grateful for it. His duelling skills had improved because of his speed and he had gained enough strength to wield his sword comfortably.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom and went to his wardrobe. After strapping his discarded weapons to his body, an unfortunate necessity, he pulled on a fresh black robe and went to his study. Harry sat behind his desk, took his pipe from the bottom drawer and summoned a fire-whisky from the glass-cabinet. With an audible grunt Harry propped his feet on the desk and grabbed today's paperwork. He had tons of reports to read and his own to write, a necessary evil when you're in charge of the Offence and Defence Department.

There was something moving on his forearm. It twitched, jumped and vibrated, never staying still. He found it annoying, especially when his back hurt so much and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. Scratching it didn't help either, it just jerked violently and somehow warmed up, making the whole experience all the more uncomfortable. He realized though, that it effectively prevented him from going back to sleep. Sleep?

Harry Potter snapped his eyes open and groaned out loud. He had apparently fallen asleep after finishing a ridiculously long report on training schedules and available fighters. The pain in his back and neck was starting to become unbearable and his thighs hurt from keeping his feet propped on the desk. His damn vibrating wand was still warming up and he suddenly remembered setting the time for the meeting at six.

With his choicest swear words flowing constantly from his mouth and supreme effort from his tired muscles Harry put his feet on the ground, tapped his forearm with his hand and stood up. He growled appreciatively when the bones in his back cracked from the stretch, somewhat diminishing the pain. After repeating the process with his neck he straightened his robe and looked around.

Harry's finished and unfinished paperwork was scattered all over the desk, some even wearing brand new footprints. The sturdy perch was still empty and his familiar nowhere in sight. The room was faintly illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace and no light entered through the window, confirming that it was indeed night-time already. A bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhisky had somehow managed to find its way to the small table in front of the couch.

After much yawning and cursing Harry cleaned up a bit and collected his reports for the meeting. He plucked his trusty pipe in his pocket, recovered a missing boot and exited his house.

It was a cold night and the frosty wind beat against his travelling cloak, finding the various places where it could penetrate his clothes to make him even colder. The moon was high, almost full, and completely within sight. Only the dark mountains and forests could be seen by the light of the moon and the Watch Towers; the sky was completely dark. The howling of the wind accompanied him as Harry walked towards the Hospital Wing.

Harry repelled the freezing weather with a few warming charms and reached the bottom of the hill at a slow jog. His mind wandered to the amounts of paperwork and reports he had had to review and he couldn't avoid letting loose another string of curses.

First and foremost was the damn training schedule. Why would people need a perfectly fine schedule to be rearranged every week? He knew the answer perfectly well but it was still annoying. Of course the trainees needed a break every now and then. Plus, unexpected assignments were a frequent thing when your government targeted every bout of accidental magic in muggle neighbourhoods. Still, rearranging the damn schedule to fit the needs of the trainees was simply ridiculous. The worst part was that he couldn't receive any help because Harry's schedule was even messier than the rest. If his bossy assistant didn't know when Harry had spare time he couldn't possibly arrange training time for him and Filius to teach. Anyhow, Harry still decided it was irritating.

The one thing that was definitely a blessing in his department was Percy Weasley, his self-proclaimed assistant. The pompous Weasley had decided that to make up for his continued support in degrading Harry and his family by appointing himself to be the official paper-pusher for the Council. As long as Harry didn't have to talk to him too much it was perfect.

Percy somehow took care of most of the unpleasant paperwork and important reports, leaving him almost completely free to train the recruits and carry out assignments with his team. Such things as updating the swords', wands', phials', armour's and combat-clothing's inventories, listing the witches and wizards currently in training, their levels and skills, and keeping record of the wounded and the operational were no doubt boring tasks. Still, Percy got the job done and he somehow found time to help Hermione record her experiments too.

Training was another thing completely different. Harry enjoyed and benefited from training and simulations as much as the next fighter. Under the tutelage of Filius Flitwick and Severus Snape the trainees learnt the finer points of duelling and spell-casting. Harry was well past that class but he still could use help to hone his abilities. Filius had been an absolute beast when it had come to duelling tournaments and, although he was getting old, his teaching methods were excellent. Admittedly, Severus wasn't the best of teachers but those who managed to adapt were often rewarded with a fountain of knowledge and experience.

Battle Simulation was by far his favourite part of training. All recruits and effectives were required to attend a simulation once every four days. Those took place in different locations and the fighters were divided into teams. Each time the captains were assigned with a different objective that they had to accomplish using any means necessary. Sometimes they had to rescue hostages, others use stealth to obtain an object or at times just an all-out battle. The simulations could get very competitive and some civilians usually watched from the sidelines, placing bets on their favourite teams and captains. Harry had won his alcohol supply betting on Ron's team against Neville's.

Harry continued his walk cheerfully as he turned the last corner on his way towards the meeting. He couldn't stop thinking that last night had been a rotund success. Granted, things didn't go perfect but they managed to get the prisoners out and at least some amount of information regarding warding and security. He could still dully feel the cold fury rolling off in waves coming from his scar. Far from being painful, it was bliss. Anything that caused Lord Voldemort a headache was good in his books. The fact that Harry could almost completely shield his mind from the onslaught didn't put a damper in his mood either.

He had his friends back and they were alive. That was really all he could hope for given the current situation. Every few days they were alerted of an accidental bout of magic and a team had to be sent to collect the muggleborns and his family to prevent blood being shed. Usually they managed to get them back in one piece before the Death Eaters showed up but there had been a few close calls and the occasional death. Other times Voldemort decided to attack muggle cities, forcing the Order to counter-attack. Moreover, The Valley didn't provide all of the supplies they needed to remain active and efficient which made trips to Tom Riddle's regime a frequent job. Every second they spent outside the protective wards of the village meant an increase in the possibilities of something going wrong. Sadly, things went wrong more often than Harry cared to think about.

Yes, causes for celebration in their current position were scarce.

The weight of the Light and those who gave their lives fighting for it hung heavily on his mind as he reached the doors of the Hospital Wing. Every meeting Harry attended was a constant remainder of his personal losses. Had things been different Ginny would have been walking with him, holding his hand. Tonks could have seen his son growing up besides Remus, now forced to raise a child on his own. Molly could have witnessed the type of men her sons turned out to be, feel the pride that she would have undoubtedly felt and share that pride with her husband.

Still, if a person wanted to remain sane during the war they had no choice but to focus on the bigger picture. It was easy to get lost within personal losses but Harry forced himself to see the light within the darkness. The other choice was to risk throwing away the little chances they had of making it out of this mess alive and bide the time until an enemy found you and killed you.

It was a constant battle of wills, Harry mused as he walked through the narrow corridor that led to the main ward. Outliving the war meant pushing aside personal losses, ignoring the pain they had caused and learning to live without them. It was easier said than done and even after six years of thinking about his parents, Molly, Tonks, Albus, Fleur, Dobby, Sirius and Ginny every single day Harry couldn't help but remember the good times and shed some silent tears for what could have been.

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, meeting of the Council of the Phoenix, Hospital Wing

Friday 25th of October

With Minerva's and Granger's help he had conjured and transfigured some random items into a large wooden table and some chairs. The selection of Order members were currently walking around the Hospital Wing's private ward waiting for their last member. Damn Potter had yet to arrive and Severus Snape's patience was wearing very thin.

Severus sat at one of the two seats at the head of the rectangular table watching his colleagues and allies. His greasy black hair looked the same as always and so did his face. The only difference was a rather nasty scar that went from his cheek to his neck and disappeared from view underneath a black robe. Potter's rather large familiar was coiled around his waist and torso, with its head resting on Severus' shoulder. He couldn't help but remember his moments as a spy in the Dark Lord's circle, only this time he was in the position of power with a Black Mamba seeking the warmth of his body.

Severus' cold dark eyes swept the room, resting from time to time to watch his colleagues engage conversation. As he glared at the ex-students and colleagues that surrounded him Severus thought about how he still could not fathom how in the name of Merlin these people became his allies when mere years ago he would have liked nothing better but to throttle most of them. Admittedly most had matured with enough time and experience, but these children would have been the last witches and wizards Severus would have chosen to bring into the Council of the Phoenix.

The room was practically filled with Weasleys; the only missing were the two women of the family, the Twin Terrors, thankfully, and Charles, who never expressed any interest in joining the higher ranks. Also in attendance were Shacklebolt, Hagrid and Minerva who had been moved from their respective beds to the chairs they now occupied. Granger was looking at some odd device that resembled a muggle flashlight, and Severus didn't even try to understand what it was; the muggleborn would explain eventually. Lupin, as usual, continued to grace him with his presence. Tonight he had even had the nerve to bring that infant to the meeting. Much to Severus displeasure, the child did not look like he approved of the accommodations and was proving to be a handful for the soon-to-transform werewolf. The child's hair was changing colours as it grew and shrank constantly while Lupin did everything he could to settle the wailing infant.

And that blasted Potter had yet to arrive!

Severus was about to go demolish what the Golden Boy called a house when the doors swung open and Harry Potter entered the room. Those who could stand, except Severus, of course, went to greet the infuriating man, shaking his hand or hugging him. Fifteen minutes late and he still had the nerve to gossip around.

Some things never changed.

"So nice of you to join us, Potter," Severus said disdainfully. "Quit groping Granger and take a seat for Merlin's sake. We have been waiting for you long enough."

Potter released Granger and strolled calmly towards Remus and took the child in his arms. Severus inwardly blessed Potter's abilities to calm his godson and watched impatiently as he took the unoccupied seat to his left. Severus had his sneer firm in place but the blasted man had long ago learnt to ignore it. Instead, he just smiled at him and nodded. With his left hand he reached out to stroke the beautiful snake resting on Severus' body. They appeared to share a heated conversation and, much to Severus' amusement, the Mamba pulled away from his master and resumed a comfortable position around the human-perch. Potter sighed in exasperation and leaned back in his chair to observe the rest members of the Council of the Phoenix.

"Sorry about the time, everyone, those damn files worn me out and I dosed off," Potter said apologetically, stroking the ginger hair of the infant sitting contentedly on his lap that constantly demanded his attention.

Severus ignored the explanation and the responses from the other members as they took their respective seats. One by one they filled into their designated places and soon the chatter died down. When everyone fell silent and turned to watch him and Minerva expectantly she cleared her throat and spoke up.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she greeted formally. "Welcome to our weekly meeting of the Council of the Phoenix. Before we begin, I would like to thank all of you for your efforts in breaking us out of Azkaban," Minerva said with a smile. She received nods and waved off comments. After the last muttered comments died away she resumed her stern façade and continued. "I assure you all that Kingsley, Hagrid and myself are in good health and soon enough will recover completely. Now, let us begin. Severus?"

The ex-potions professor cleared his throat quietly and calmly scanned the faces in the room. Most were smiling expectantly and others were wearing triumphant smirks. He couldn't help but agree with the mood, whether he displayed it outwardly or not. A few hours ago they had fooled the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale, again.

"I commend you all on a well carried out plan," Severus said with a slight nod of his head, the closest he would offer as praise. "Potter, did your team recover the files we require?" he asked, not as venomously as he would have liked.

"I'm afraid not, Severus," Potter replied sadly as Weasley shook his head in defeat. "Ron turned that office upside down while I was busy but the advanced warding and security files were missing. We did get the basic cell warding plans and guard shifts though, but that won't do us any good without the rest."

Severus nodded once as the others made their comments on the subject. He didn't need anyone to tell him what that meant though; without those files Azkaban remained within the clutches of the Dark Lord. That meant less recruits for the Order and an excellent strategic structure for their enemies. However, there were other venues to explore yet.

"Silence!" Severus called loudly over the chatter. "The files are of importance, of course, but we can modify our plans for the take-over. We do not necessarily need the whole blueprints to break in, as Potter's team proved last night, but only an increase in numbers."

There were some muttered agreements and some doubtful comments. Severus noted that Ronald, William, Percival and Potter kept quiet, while the rest discussed the possibility of a take-over with Minerva trying to act the mediator. Severus kept quiet as well and watched the other four silent faces. They seemed to be considering something and he was confident that they would come to the same conclusion that he had. There was no other way if they intended to occupy Azkaban.

Inevitably, Potter looked at Ronald and they appeared to share a silent conversation. They held each others' gaze for a few seconds before they nodded and called the attention of the rest.

"Snape is right," Ronald said. "If we want to free all of those people and gain a major vantage point we have to get more fighters. Right now we have..." he paused for a few seconds while Potter looked at a piece of parchment.

"Seventy two," Potter informed.

"Right, seventy two fighters in total, another seventeen are trainees and we could probably select five to join the active ranks," he looked at Potter and they both nodded again. "We have no choice; we'll have to send a team out of the country."

The Order members reacted at once, either shouting and clapping their approval or arguing against taking on such a risk. Indeed, Severus knew, it was a serious risk. They could potentially lose perfectly capable fighters for nothing, but the rewards, should they succeed, would be monumental. If they somehow managed to escape Britain and reach neutral territory then their chances of forming alliances would improve dramatically. Since the possibilities of sending messages out of the country or meeting a tourist on holiday were laughable, they had no option but to at least attempt it.

Severus knew what they had to do, but how to do it was an entirely different matter.

"Settle down, please," Minerva commanded loudly. "We all know it would be hard to breach the wards, escape the country and manage to reach neutral territory safely. However, do we all agree that we undoubtedly require foreign assistance?" she asked calmly.

"Is there really no other choice?" Arthur Weasley asked dejectedly.

"I don't think so, dad," answered William. "We've been bringing in as many muggleborns as we possibly can but most of them are barely ten years old. We need trained witches and wizards and we can't get them in Britain."

The others nodded their agreement. At least they realized that recruiting inside this blasted island was impossible. The Dark Lord had too tight a grip in the country and anyone who wielded a wand was recorded immediately in the Ministry. The government counted with at least one hundred and fifty Aurors, as many Death Eaters and many dark creatures. An all-out battle would result in extremely painful deaths, something Severus preferred to avoid.

"Very well, we agree that we need more allies and we cannot find them in Britain," Severus said calmly. "We've been surviving and recruiting as best as we can for the last six years and yet we do not have enough. If anyone has a better idea I am sure we would all love to hear it," he finished sarcastically, leaving no doubt about which option he considered to be the best course of action.

Several minutes passed in silence while the Council members considered other venues. Severus waited out of polite respect. He had already considered this for the past two years and so had everyone else. The difference was that they had realized that the resources Britain could provide had already been exhausted, failing to obtain complete the blueprints of Azkaban's security being the last one.

Severus assumed that everybody was thinking about those times they had tried to get out of the country. Every time they attempted an escape they were confronted by dozens of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself. It would be a risky business to undertake again, but with proper planning, a considerable amount of creativity and more luck than they usually had it was at least plausible.

"I'm afraid there's no room for discussion," Shacklebolt interrupted the silence. "If we do not gain an advantage we will be forced to wage war for the rest of our lives. We have only managed so far by remaining unreachable. If Voldemort finds a way to break into The Valley we would find ourselves overpowered. We cannot subsist forever."

"Seconded," called William and Percival at the same time.

"I'm with yeh'," said Hagrid.

Most announced their agreement but a few remained silent, namely Granger, Potter and Lupin. Minerva established order once again and spoke up.

"Let us vote on it," she said looking at all the members of the Council. "Those in favour of breaking out of Britain please raise their hands."

Most complied immediately and the rest followed slowly, ending in a unanimous agreement. Severus nodded and lowered his own hand, waiting expectantly for Potter to speak up. However, it was Granger that broke the silence this time.

"Well, this has failed before but there's no reason why it couldn't work with proper planning and research," the know-it-all began. "I've read about Grindelwald's rise and the situation is somewhat similar. He completely warded Germany to prevent people from breaking in or out and yet Dumbledore and the Hit-Wizards managed to break in. There are no references as to how they accomplished that but I'm sure that we can find a way," she paused thoughtfully. "We should start researching the wards, their strengths and weaknesses, and maybe we could find a hole in the defences. Maybe using muggle means of transportation..." Granger trailed off looking at the ceiling, no doubt concocting another Gryffindorish stunt.

"I was thinking along the same line, Mione'," Potter added. "We've tried at least six times to break out. Brooms, carpets, portkeys, Apparition and any other means of transportation that includes somehow physically or magically crossing the borders have so far been blocked. If we could dismantle a particular layer of the wards or find an alternative method... There has to be a way."

Severus had no idea what Granger meant by "muggle means of transportation" but if the insufferable know-it-all discovered a way he wasn't about to complain. When, and if, she did, then he would support it. Merlin knew that so far every magical approach they had attempted had failed spectacularly.

"We can discuss our options later on when we have more accurate information," Lupin said. "Maybe we can conclude our business for today and present original ideas in the next meeting?"

Everyone nodded their agreement and noted that Lupin was looking rather haggard. The full moon would be in two days and the werewolf no doubt needed his beauty rest. Minerva took charge and spoke up.

"Very well, let us consider alternative venues for the next meeting of the Council. Do not spread our plans to anyone," she warned. "When the time comes and we need to select a team we will divulge the information only to those parties involved. Until then, let us proceed with the next order of business. Anything that needs urgent attention?"

"I've been having problems with our stocks of battle armours and stealth clothing," Percival informed at once. "Combat Teams four and five lack complete proper protection and one invisibility cloak. Moreover, in the past three weeks we have lost three invisibility cloaks and two dragon-hide vests due to a series of failed assignments," he continued in a subdued voice as everyone recalled the time when a sting had gone horribly wrong and half a team had been slaughtered. After a few seconds of silence he continued. "We need to re-stock our equipment but our market informant has strongly advised me against purchasing the supplies. Apparently our actions have been registered and only high ranking Ministry-approved personnel have access to certain products."

Several seconds passed in silence as the Order members processed this new piece of information. Severus knew, from experience, that battle armour was of vital importance. He himself had survived a rather nasty Flame-Curse that overpowered his shield because of his personal full-set of dragon-hide armour. Stealth was even of more importance in some cases. Disillusionment Charms were of limited effectiveness and the ability to remain invisible was sometimes crucial to obtain information or secure an advantage when engaged in a combat situation.

"Well, regarding the invisibility cloaks we could always look for more Demiguises," William suggested diplomatically. "I know it isn't as easy as buying more but we have done it before."

"Charming a cloak to be invisible isn't an option?" Arthur Weasley ignorantly asked, effectively interrupting Severus' thoughts. "I'm sure Harry and Filius can do a fantastic job that should last at least a month."

"No, Arthur, I'm sorry," Potter replied. "Even if I could make them last a month, which I doubt, the Aurors have placed wards around the Ministry, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts and many other locations that dispel invisibility charms. Not even Disillusionment Charms hold more than a few seconds against them."

"Oh, sorry," Arthur replied embarrassedly.

"Not a problem," Potter answered absentmindedly. "I guess I can take Xen and Neville for a stroll around the forest. Last time we checked there were at least three colonies living near the southern mountains."

Everyone nodded their agreements as Potter hissed a few words to his familiar. Xen answered in kind and nodded before resuming its comfortable position around Severus' waist.

Severus grudgingly had to admit that Potter made for a fairly good hunter. Longbottom had screwed up a couple of times but the Golden Boy and his familiar maintained a rather high success rate so far.

"Maybe Remus can help you out if he takes his wolfsbane potion, Harry," Granger commented.

"I don't think so Hermione," the werewolf replied somewhat embarrassedly. "Last time we tried I got a bit carried away and the tailor told us that the cloak ended up having too many holes in it..."

"Don't worry about it, Remus," Potter replied kindly. "It was all instinct. Nothing you could've done about it." The annoying metamorphagus clapped his hands together and whooped in agreement with his godfather. Lupin smiled at his son and reached out to transfer him to his own lap as the rest beamed at the little brat.

"Enough with the soppy feelings," Severus interrupted disgustedly. "Potter will take Longbottom and Xen to hunt those Demiguises. What about battle armours or materials for their tailoring?"

"I suppose we could always wait until we manage to break out and reach the foreign countries," Minerva answered slowly and gave him a warning look, which Severus promptly ignored. "I'm sure there will be no trouble acquiring any goods we happen to be in need of."

"No, that won't work, I'm sorry," Percival answered immediately. "We could be months away from succeeding or not at all. Too many combatants lack proper equipment and we cannot allow this to continue any further," he continued pompously. "I have rearranged the schedules for stings and muggleborn salvages but it can only work so long. Inevitably we will need our full forces and leaving them unprotected is a big risk."

Severus rolled his eyes at the pompous Weasley and absentmindedly stroked the beautiful Mamba's head resting on his lap with his fingers. If they could not buy the materials or the finished work from a tailor then there was only one option left; one that probably would not go well with the Council members.

Before he could voice his opinion, Ronald beat him to it.

"We can kill one or two dragons," he said simply, as if it was the simplest task in the world. Severus noticed Potter winking surreptitiously at Weasley as they both leaned back in their chairs and lit their pipes.

Predictably, most reacted against the idea, pointing out how unnecessarily dangerous that could be and why it would be best to find alternative options. Severus allowed the argument to carry on, secretly glad that the Weasley brat was taking the brunt of the abuse. Hagrid seemed particularly offended by the suggestion, as if killing a dragon to protect human beings was the most outrageous thing he had ever heard. Of course, considering the half-giant's history of former pets, he probably thought it was outrageous. Not that Severus had any sympathy for his feelings on creatures. He remembered only too well when that darned three-headed dog had almost made a meal out of his leg.

Eventually the heated discussion died down when no other options were deemed plausible. For the life of him Severus still could not understand why these people preferred to shout their feelings without analytically considering the matter at hand first. That was one of the few things he actually liked about Granger. If there was a problem to solve she kept quiet and thought carefully about the best course of action, unlike other people who preferred to unsheathe their wands and charge head-first into unnecessary battles.

However, there was little Severus could do about it. At least those Gryffindorish urges that Potter and Weasley seemed to have acquired at birth had somewhat died down over the years. Ronald was a decent strategist, a trait that enabled him to think with his head once in a while, and Potter had developed some Slytherin characteristics. It took them a while to grow up, too long for Severus' tastes, but they eventually did and he could not be more grateful about it. At least the Council's meetings became almost bearable.

Severus was jolted out of his thoughts by Potter waving his hand in front of his face.

"You okay, Severus?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine, Potter, thank you very much," Severus snapped, apparently not too forcefully since he actually smiled at him and offered a drag of his pipe. Severus declined automatically, already suspecting that Potter offered more out of amusement at his disgusted reaction than authentic politeness.

"I guess we have to talk to Charlie then, he should know where we can find some dragons in Britain," William said over the noise. Then he turned to the half-giant and spoke in a sympathetic tone. "I'm sorry Hagrid but we don't have any other options available."

The half-giant mumbled something unintelligible, as usual, as the rest planned when to track the dragon and how to subdue it. In the end they agreed that taking the eight most powerful wizards, with no concerns about skills, was the best course of action. They would fire stunners repeatedly until the creature collapsed and then severe the head physically. The date would come as soon as Charles told them where to find the beasts and the different species available. They wanted the strongest hides available and a Common-Green Welsh wouldn't do.

"Very well, now that that problem has been addressed," Severus said smoothly once the dragon-talk was over, "is there anything else we need to hear about tonight?"

"If there're no other reports I'd like to show you a project I've started today and hear your opinions about it," Granger said as she looked at her colleagues, waiting for permission. When she got it, Granger placed that odd-looking muggle flashlight on the table. "Ron told me last night about a new kind of illumination system that Azkaban used yesterday to try and locate you. He also mentioned that the source was probably enchanted with additional charms to harm or freeze those that came into contact with the light," she explained in her best know-it-all tone. "I think I've managed to reproduce some of the enchantments within this prototype," Granger continued as she motioned towards the flashlight, "and it could possibly help with security. Ron?"

Her husband stood up, backed away from the table and disillusioned himself. Granger tapped the flashlight with her wand, producing a strange orange-coloured light, and pointed it at where Ronald was last seen. As soon as the light came into contact with his invisible body the charm was cancelled and he shimmered into existence. The demonstration was followed by claps and cries of congratulations from the Council members. Severus grudgingly had to admit that it was a brilliant piece of work and he had no idea how to reproduce it.

"Thank you. I'm working on making the beam invisible and larger but so far this is the best I could come up with within the last five hours," Granger informed proudly. "Although we do have wards to detect concealment charms around The Valley, these can be carried manually for exterior operatives and, at some point, inconspicuously. It would be the perfect means for us to discover invisible opponents without casting any charms, thus, allowing us to remain out of sight."

The explanation was met by another round of applause and praise on her charms skills. Minerva encouraged her to talk to Filius about making the light-beam colourless and possibly adding other enchantments that could paralyze or confound the recipient. It was a little farfetched in Severus' opinion but, if it could be done, it would undoubtedly be an enormous advantage. Those who could not wield a second wand, unlike Perfect Potter, would at least have the ability to dispel Disillusionment Charms or possibly stun or confound an opponent while firing off curses with their wands. All in all, a not too shabby accomplishment by the muggleborn.

"Members of the Council of the Phoenix, are there any other problems we should hear about?" Minerva asked clearly. When none expressed any other concerns she continued. "Very well, our next scheduled meeting is in exactly a week, at mid-day. Please remember the new assignments we discussed today and call for an emergency meeting should a practical solution to one of these urgent problems be found. We are finished for the day, good night."

Minerva, Kingsley and Hagrid retreated to their private rooms for another night in the Hospital Wing while everybody else stood up and called their goodbyes as they left. Xen also followed his master but Severus remained in his seat, considering the state of affairs they found themselves in.

It seemed incredible that merely ten years ago he was teaching Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the wing of Albus Dumbledore himself. It had been far from a perfect existence but he had had peace and comfort, the biggest worry being protecting Potter from his own stupidity. Then, abruptly, everything changed and the Second War had begun. Amongst all of Severus' thoughts there was one that kept weighing heavily on his mind...

...will we make it out of this mess alive?