Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

The morning after that vision, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table staring at the headline splashed across the whole of the front page:

With similar headlines following that one over the next week, no one was very happy. The only people Harry noticed laughing and joking were Pansy and her group of Death Eater wanna-bes. Everyone else was too disturbed and too worried to waste their time on jokes.

More owls had been sent and received during breakfast than Harry could ever remember. Students were checking up on parents and parents were reassuring their children. Of course, the black owls from the Ministry joined the flock to inform the recipients of deaths in their families, and many students were gone that weekend for funerals.

As for Harry's mail, besides the normal amount of fan and hate mail, a new group had emerged. These letters begged, bribed, and beseeched Harry to end the war...now. They came from mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, wives and husbands, and friends of all types begging him to end it before Voldemort tore apart yet another family.

They neither condemned nor absolved him from any wrong; in fact, by not mentioning it, Harry felt their condemnation more directly.

His friends fought against his guilt, but Harry's dreams had returned to a past one, a dream that included every person he had ever watched murdered and many he had never seen, circling him. It wasn't the Death Parade; every person he saw was long dead. Their murmurs begged for revenge, against him or Voldemort, Harry was never sure. It was a dream that disturbed him more than the nightly Revelries and the sounds drifting up from the village of Hogsmeade.

Outside of Hogwarts, turmoil had gripped the Ministry. People cried for Thia's resignation, and Harry was afraid that Emmeline Vance would give in and give them what they asked for; Fudge would have. Surprisingly, though it probably shouldn't have been, the Minster fully supported her Commander. After that, many people came out of the woodworks and agreed. "Better not to change a horse mid-stream," seemed to be the phrase passed around the Ministry.

The refugee camp at Hogwarts, filled with even more wizards and witches from Diagon Alley, supported Thia as well. They'd seen what the Aurors had done in the past, all they had done in the lost battles, and they knew nothing more could have been done.

Thia couldn't have known that Knockturn Alley would rise at Voldemort's beckoning and attack for him. She might have thought of it, but it was a possibility passed over: if it did happen, they wouldn't be able to fight the numbers; if it didn't, they wouldn't have to worry.

The only bright thing in the whole event at Diagon Alley was Gringotts. The goblins were holding against Voldemort's forces, evoking old wards designed to guard against sieges. Harry wished them the best and hoped they had a way to get food in for the trapped wizards, witches, and goblins inside. At least they had a lake, though Harry wasn't sure if it was drinkable or not. He hoped it was. The goblins might have remained a lukewarm neutral to their side, but now they fought with all their power against Voldemort. The monster was going to regret challenging them.

All of this lay as a backdrop to the final week of classes the seventh years would have at Hogwarts. For Harry, it wasn't too bad; he was down to only two formal classes. His other classes would continue as need be during and after N.E.W.T.'s until the war ended. For the rest of the students, it was misery. They had essays, projects, and class work to worry about on top of N.E.W.T. preparation. Hermione had never looked more bushy-haired or excited in all her life.

Harry and his class had their final Potions lesson with Professor Snape on the Tuesday of that week. Seeing as the class was a double period, the first half was spent handing in papers, receiving essays back, and one last quick potion: Boil Cure Potion.

"But, Professor, this is first-year work," Lisa Turpin said, when he announced the lesson.

"I know, Miss Turpin," Severus replied viciously. "Let's see, if after seven full years of lessons in this classroom, you can manage a potion you all miserably struggled with your very first class."

Harry set to it, carefully following the instructions on the board, bound and determined not to mess this up. Harry could just imagine the sadistic sarcasm Severus would dish out to anyone who failed this time around.

The potion was annoyingly simple, making Harry nervous as he wondered if it had lulled him into a false sense of security. But everyone, including Neville who had messed up so spectacularly that first class, finished with a perfect potion to hand in.

"Very well," he said simply. "I doubt many of you will continue to use the knowledge and skill you have acquired in the art of potion brewing. Most of you will become foolish wand wavers and rely on store-bought or friend-brewed potions. But you have learnt to appreciate the power and beauty of the art, and that is something I can not say to all my graduating classes. Mr. Longbottom, I hope in your continuing studies of Herbology you will not forget potions, you have become quite adequate at brewing. Do not fail me in your N.E.W.T.'s. You are dismissed."

The class sat, stunned for a minute, and then hurried to pack up. They had never been dismissed so early, and they had never, ever heard Snape compliment Neville. As Harry hurried out of the room, he saw Neville sitting at his desk, unmoving, staring at the spot where Severus had been standing when he'd said it.

Harry was thankful that Severus had finally complimented Neville. The other boy had put up with a lot over the years from him--insults, ridicules, and zeros. And yet, Neville had persevered and become one of the top students.

The last Transfiguration period was Friday right after lunch. The students were surprised to see McGonagall sitting in a chair next to Bill at the front of the class waiting for them. She still looked odd with her white hair knotted at the base of her neck, but Harry was getting used to the look. After all, he was used to the Head of the school having white hair; all she needed was a beard as long as Dumbledore's and they'd be set.

This lesson passed much the same as Potions, handing in papers and getting essays back, but McGonagall was the one to give the parting speech, not Bill.

"Congratulations," she said, her voice pitched only loud enough to carry to the back of the classroom and no louder. She had everyone's undivided attention. "You have completed seven years of one of the most difficult and dangerous branches of study offered here at Hogwarts. You've struggled with changing a match into a needle, a tortoise into a teapot, a hedgehog into a pincushion, vanishing spells, conjuring spells, and, in Miss Granger's case, turning herself into an animal. You have spent countless hours in and out of class practicing and you will thank yourselves everyday for sticking with it for all seven years. You'll find it useful in everything you do, and I'm sure each of you will do just fine on your N.E.W.T.'s. Thank you for all your hard work." The bell rang, and the students started to pack up their bags for their next class.

"Hold on," Bill said, making them pause. "I just wanted to say thank you for your help and work since Christmas. I know getting a new teacher so late in your schooling is never easy, but I'm glad I had the honor of teaching you all. I'm sure your generation and this class in particular is meant for great things. Good luck on your Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. They aren't that nasty."

"That's 'cause you aren't scheduled to take them next week," Ron countered, unable to keep his mouth shut. Mouthing off to his older brothers was ingrained in Ron. "They look pretty nasty from where I'm standing."

"True," Bill conceded. "Don't forget exhausting. But, I'm sure you're all prepared and are not planning on staying up til the last minute studying like I did." There was a ripple of laughter in the classroom and everyone finished packing.

"Gees," Seamus said with a hint of wonder in his voice, leading the way out of the classroom. "That was my last class."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, and Harry nodded his head. In fact, the only people who didn't nod were already on their way to their last class at that moment.

"Want to go sit by the Lake?" Dean offered, looking at his classmates. Again, everyone nodded. The group made their noisy way down to the Entrance Hall, ignoring the fact that the students in years one through four and six still had class until the end of next week.

They joked around, throwing around more inside jokes than Harry had ever realized they'd acquired. He didn't know some of them, but the ones he did know where more than one would expect. Amazing what seven years together would do to a group of people.

Dean, Ron, and Seamus all flopped down on the ground near the beech tree while Harry took his normal spot with his back to the tree. Blaise, Sephra, and Hermione sat closer to the Lake, talking softly about their Ancient Rune exam on Monday.

"Done at Hogwarts," Lavender muttered, turning over on her stomach to pick at the grass and daisies growing around her. "Can't believe it."

"Yeah," several of them muttered. Harry was one of the few to look up at the castle, almost longingly. It was the closest thing he had ever had to a home. And he'd always love it as one. But he'd never be a student there again, not formally. Sure, his training might continue on the grounds, but he'd never sit in any of those student desks again.

"Glad to be rid of it, honestly," Anthony announced from the branches of the beech tree. Harry looked up to see that Ernie and Terry had climbed up there as well. "I don't know about you guys, but it just got tedious at the end. I'm ready to move on. Start my own life of my own choosing."

"What are you going to do?" Susan asked, looking up at him. Harry looked over just in time to see the Giant Squid yank his tentacle out of Susan's hand and splash her.

"My dad owns a small apothecary in our village," he answered. "I'm going to help him out until we recover Diagon Alley. Then I'm moving to London to get an apprenticeship at one of the larger apothecaries there."

"That's lucky," Harry muttered. "I have no clue what I want. I'll continue training here until the War ends and then I don't know."

"Haven't you gotten Quidditch offers?" Dean asked surprised, looking from Ron to him in confusion.

"Yeah, but unlike Ron, I'm not really suited for the pros," Harry explained. Ron had accepted the Cannon's offer just the other night. "I think I want to travel a bit. Europe, the States, see a bit more of Australia."

"There you all are," Ginny said, taking a seat next to Harry. "I was a bit worried when none of you came back to the common room."

"Just enjoying our freedom," Harry reassured her, grabbing her hand in his.

"Not that it really is freedom," Hermione said testily. Harry looked at her quizzically, and then realized what she'd meant. Looking quickly at his best mate, Harry shot him a look that said sorry for the rant he'd just ignited. "After all, N.E.W.T.'s do start Monday. And maybe you don't have to worry about one until Wednesday, Harry, but I only have two more days until Ancient Runes!"

"What! You don't have it down to the last second?" Blaise asked sarcastically. Hermione shot him a glare, but it was nothing compared to the one Ron shot at him.

"You leave her be!" Ron retorted. "At least one of us really cares about them."

"I was merely commenting," Blaise responded smoothly.

"Oh, shush, both of you," Sephra chided. "Ron, Blaise was only distracting her, and, Blaise, don't be such a prick. Hermione," she continued, reaching out a hand to grip Hermione's shoulder, "you're ready for that exam, so don't worry. And I'd know; I'm your study partner."

"I know, but I'm just worried, you know?" she whispered. "Grades were about all my parents understood about my studies here. They didn't have a clue what Transfiguration or Charms really meant, but they could understand that I was the top in the class."

Ron rolled over and gathered Hermione up in his arms as she started to cry softly. The others looked out over the Lake, giving her as much privacy as could be had in such an open spot.

Harry watched the refugee camp, a make shift village of almost fifteen hundred people. Only fifteen hundred, after a village and the heart of Wizarding Britain had fallen, only fifteen hundred were here. Sure, others could have found refuge with friends and family elsewhere, and many people had fled the country, but it was such a low number, much lower than it should be.

"Harry!" Tonks shouted across the grounds. Harry turned to watch the Auror carrying Caitlan and a large bag. "Would you mind watching Caitlan tonight? Remus is busy and I just got called into work."

"Sure, I don't mind," Harry said, standing to take the bag and Caitlan from Tonks. "How late?"

"Would you mind keeping her until tomorrow? Remus wasn't sure when he'd be back, and I'm going to be beat when I get off, I just know it," Tonks answered.

"Nah, not at all. If you're still tired, I'm sure Hermione can watch her during the game," Harry said, setting the bag down near the tree. Caitlan was staring around at everyone curiously, and Harry handed her down to Ginny. "Anything I need to know?"

"Her crib, food, blankets, toys, nappies, books, binkies, and a few other things are in there," Tonks said, pointing to the bag. "It's all shrunk, so you shouldn't have any issues with setting it up. If anything goes wrong, contact Remus first, though I'm not sure if he'll be able to come. Her list of healers--"

"Tonks?" Harry said, interrupting her. "I know her healers if anything goes that badly, and I'm sure Althea and Poppy will be able to help if it isn't anything major. It's only one night, what's the worst that can happen?"

"You don't want to know," Tonks said with a small laugh. "Okay, well, I'm off then. Bye, Caitlan," she said, bending over to kiss the little one. "Behave for Harry." She started to jog to the Auror Headquarters, waving back at them.

Harry took his seat next to Ginny, watching her help Caitlan stand and take a few steps. Caitlan had managed a few on her own last weekend, much to the joy of Remus and Tonks.

Harry knew that the healers were worried about Caitlan's lack of progression in her motor skills. She should have been walking for at least a month by now, but she was only just now starting to walk. The general consensus was that the bite had slowed down her development as her body got used to the curse.

"How old is she?" Lisa asked.

"She's turning one next Tuesday," Harry answered. "Caitlan, can you walk to me?" Ginny helped Caitlan walk towards Harry's beckoning fingers while the others watched.

"I'm going to miss Hogwarts," Padma said, her voice soft and sad. She banished the daisy chain she'd been making into the Lake where the Giant Squid grabbed it and pulled it under.

"You aren't the only one," Terry said. "I don't know what I'm doing after this, either. It's scary, now that it's so close."

"Yeah," Justin agreed. "At least we aren't going in for more testing afterwards."

"Why didn't someone warn me?" Seamus asked, flopping onto his back and throwing his arms out wide in desperation. "I just signed myself up for entry-exams for AA."

"We wanted to see you suffer?" Ginny teased. "All of you crazy future Auror types."

"Thanks," Seamus replied sarcastically, tossing a dirt clod towards Ginny with some difficulty because of the way his arm was bent funny. It fell several feet from her and Ginny laughed, letting Harry take Caitlan.

"I feel bad for the AA instructors," Ginny said though her laughter. "They're going to have to teach you how to aim."

"If Harry can't teach me, no one can," Seamus joked. The others laughed, Hermione joining in, her tears dried.

"I can't do miracles, Seamus," Harry added through his laughter. The afternoon and early evening passed in this way, everyone savoring their last days at Hogwarts.

"AND THEY'RE OFF!" Dean shouted into the microphone the next day. Harry took off, determined to enjoy the last Quidditch game he'd play at Hogwarts. Sephra flew next to him, matching his movements easily.

He smiled and dove straight to the ground; she followed. He watched the ground come closer and closer, the wind blowing the grass, creating waves. Sephra pulled out of the dive and Harry kept his course a little longer, pulling out just in time to skim the ground with his toes.

"Potter puts on a bit of a show there!" Dean commented. "Can anyone tell me why he's not going into the pros?"

The stadium was filled with students and refugees, not an empty seat was available, and they all shouted their answers to Dean's question. Green and red filled the stadium, and Harry felt the adrenaline flood his system.

He was going to miss this.

Ginny and her chasers easily matched Blaise and his; there was stiff competition for the Quaffle and they kept both side's keepers busy. Harry listened to Dean's commentary, making sure that Slytherin never pulled ahead by more than a hundred points.

The weather was decent, though clouds had rolled in promising a wet week, but so far not a drop had fallen. Harry hoped it would stay that way. He did not want to play in the rain. He hated playing in the rain. The wind was constant, though it would gust and blow the Quaffle and even the Bludgers off course at times.

At the moment, Ginny had the Quaffle and was shooting down the left hand side of the pitch, avoiding a Bludger and Blaise on her way. Seeing two Slytherins in front of her, she passed it across the pitch to Natalie and then barreled into the Slytherins. Harry smiled as she came out just fine. The two Slytherins were too busy correcting themselves to stop Gryffindor from scoring.

"That's 110-100, Gryffindor!"

The match continued, a competitiveness filling the stadium, filling Harry with a sense of elation. He flew past Kirk as the other boy backhanded a bludger at whichever Slytherin had just shot by. Already Sephra had led Harry on a goose chase once, he had driven her into the ground twice, and they had squabbled over the Snitch three times. The score stayed even, at the moment it was 190-210 Slytherin. The chasers were too evenly matched, so it would come down to the seekers.

Harry smiled.

He was on the better broom, he had been playing longer, and he was going to win.

It was that simple.

Sephra was on the other side of the pitch, watching Harry while scanning for the Snitch. Their eyes met and they smiled. And then his eyes changed focus, just as they came even to one another. There it was, right in the middle. Sephra saw it was well, and both went pelting toward one another, playing a dangerous game of chicken, neither watching what the other was doing.

The Snitch seemed to feel the attention on it and took off, going at an angle down towards the ground. Both Sephra and Harry changed direction, Harry's turn just a hair tighter and a bit steeper. Sephra couldn't be beat at a climb or at a dead on race (if you took the broom factor out of it), but she never liked diving. Especially when the speed was this fast.

Then, to Harry's dismay, the Snitch flew right at Sephra.

Right to her.

He'd never seen a Snitch do that before. He had a split moment to think that it'd been tampered with, but then it was past her. She hadn't had enough time to get over her own shock. Harry turned on the spot, reaccelerating and climbing to reach the Snitch. Sephra was a few seconds behind him, but her smaller mass soon caught up.

"You're too big to be a Seeker, Potter!" she taunted, her eyes never leaving the Snitch. They were even now, and Harry pushed his Firebolt to keep up with her.

The Snitch turned, and the two turned in tandem, Harry thankfully on the inside of the turn. He was able to accelerate as the Snitch plummeted toward the ground, leaving Sephra slowly behind. Now his larger body was coming in handy.

The Snitch froze, an inch above the ground, right below Harry and he realized his mistake a split second later. If the Snitch didn't move, he'd have to swerve and hope to catch the Snitch as he turned and pulled out of the dive at the same time. The moment Harry decided which direction and when to pull out, the Snitch took off in the other direction, and Harry was forced to spin around once more.

Sephra was back in the lead after Harry's maneuver, following the Snitch closely. Harry pushed his Firebolt once more, putting on a surprising spurt of speed that caught him up to her. He couldn't push it further, as the Snitch started to rise and Sephra was once more at the advantage.

They were closing in on it; Harry stretched out his arm. His reach was longer, but Sephra was able to push her broom to even that out. He felt the wings of the small golden ball brush his fingertips, and watched them brush Sephra's as well. He pushed his broom harder than he ever had before and closed his fingers a second after Sephra had done the same.

He pulled up on his broom, surprised.

At that last second, it had seemed that Sephra had gotten it.

His right hand lifted above his head, golden wings still trying to flutter between his closed fingers.

Sephra swore.

The crowd roared.

The Snitch had swerved away from him, but its lost velocity had slowed it.

Sephra's reach had gone too far and the Snitch found its way into Harry's hand.

The party that followed was intense. Gryffindor celebrated without holding a thing back, knowing that there would be little else to celebrate after. There had been little to celebrate as it was in the past month. The final score had been 340-230, and the Gryffindors had won the Quidditch Cup. None of these details really mattered, as the students took advantage of the excuse to party.

They'd won, and they were going to celebrate.

The reality of what the new week brought hit home Monday morning to each and every fifth and seventh year student. The next two weeks were to be filled with Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. Hermione, Sephra, Blaise, and the other students in the fifth and seventh year Ancient Runes classes were the most nervous. They had the first exams, and Harry had never seen Hermione so pale and nervous before.

At lunch, the large majority of the seventh years sat at the far end of the Hufflepuff table, near the door, displacing half of the Hufflepuffs and forcing them to sit at other tables.

Harry and Ron tried to calm Hermione down, but it was a difficult thing, as she wasn't actually freaking out. She was quiet and pale, and she didn't hash over the theory part of the test with Blaise, Sephra, and the others, like she had fifth year. This bothered them more though, but there was nothing the two could do.

The other seventh years around them bemoaned their state, those with the Ancient Runes practical in the afternoon the loudest of them.

Those without tests, got rowdier and rowdier as the lunch went on, trying to distract the others. Professors frowned at them from the other end of the hall, but did nothing to quiet them. Harry was thankful; he thought that if the teachers had tried to quiet them, they might have rebelled in some way and he didn't want to serve any detentions in the next few weeks.

"You're taking History!" Dean exclaimed. "I've dorm'ed with you for two years while you took N.E.W.T. level History! How did I not know?"

"You're blind?" Neville asked, defensive. "Anyways, I like it."

"Me too," Hannah agreed. "And I could nap and do homework in the class. I didn't have to do extra work."

"And Binns isn't that bad," Neville continued, "once you learn to tune him out."

"But it's history," Lavender stressed.

"But it's important," Neville said with a shrug, mimicking her voice.

"How so?" Parvati asked.

"Oh, come on," Harry said with a sigh. "Just think how many essays and papers Burke had you write about the First War. That's history."

"But it isn't Binns' History!" Dean exclaimed. "I mean, you all remember history according to Binns. I couldn't tell if I was awake or not, if what Binns had just said was right or not, and if I had just confused my dream with what Binns was saying."

"Remember that time when Hermione raised her hand?" Ron asked the others. "I thought Binns was going to have a heart attack and die and save us from boredom. Then I remembered he was already dead and couldn't die again. Biggest disappointment I've ever suffered in that class."

"He couldn't remember her name, either," Lavender said with a laugh. "God, what year was that?"

"Second," Hermione answered, a faint smile on her face. "I wanted to ask about the Chamber of Secrets."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Lavender said. "I can't believe you actually got him to answer your question."

"He just liked the attention he was getting," Seamus said with a shrug.

"We've had some overly interesting years here, haven't we?" Susan said softly. "First year was the year Neville won the House Cup for Gryffindor. Second year was all those attacks. Third year was the dementors and Sirius Black breaking in all those times. Fourth year was the Triwizard Tournament and You-Know-Who's return. Fifth year we all thought Harry was either insane or a brilliant teacher and Umbridge was in charge. Sixth year was the War. Seventh year... well... the attacks, Dumbledore's death, and the fall of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley."

"Yeah," Hannah said thoughtfully. "I mean, I knew I'd be having an interesting seven years, listening to my siblings talking about it. But, I never thought it'd be quite this exciting."

"And you're not even Harry, Ron, or Hermione," Michael Conner said, shaking his fork at her. "They've been in the middle of all that from the start."

"Yeah," Ron said. "It's been some years."

"Remember Ron's dress robes?" Lavender asked, trying to break the chill that had settled on them all.

"Merlin, how could I forget?" Padma exclaimed.

"You forget?" Ron asked indignantly, his ears a bright red. "I was the one bloody wearing them!"

"What?" Sephra asked, completely left out.

"During the Triwizard Tournament, there was a ball," Hermione answered. "Ron, being the prick he was, didn't ask me two things. One, if I'd go to the ball with him and two, if I'd transfigure his robes for him."

"They were the ugliest things," Harry said through his laughter. "Maroon, and lacy, and OLD. And they smelt like old woman and, gah, they were so ugly."

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, stressing the last word sarcastically and gripping the back of Harry's neck a bit harder than was friendly. "Nice to know how you really felt about them."

"I never said anything else," Harry said with a laugh, grabbing Ron's wrist and jamming his nails into the tender flesh. Ron let go instantly. "You should have just followed through with what you told your mum."

"What?" several people asked.

"He said he'd rather go starkers then wear them," Harry answered. "Told her I'd get a picture and everything. I had Collin all lined up to take the shots too."

"Shut it," Ron said, hiding his red face and ears in his arms.

"I know Hermione would have appreciated that," Parvati teased.

"I might have hurled," Padma said, pretending to hurl in demonstration.

The bell rang, cutting everyone off. Hermione, who had brightened up during the exchange, wilted back into nervousness. Everyone not taking a test, left, leaving those who were to face their practical portion.

"Good luck, Hermione!" Ron shouted from the door. "You don't need it, but good luck anyway!"

"We'll be in the common room waiting," Harry shouted as well. "See you."

"She'll be fine," Ron told Harry as they climbed the stairs.

"I know that," Harry said with a shrug.

"Does she?"

"Don't know."

The next day was Ron's turn and anyone else in the Herbology class. Harry wished he could have figured out a way to distract his best mate, but nothing he did helped. Lunch passed very similarly to yesterday's, this time though, the Professors' frowns were more pronounced.

Harry spent the day working with Shacklebolt and any Aurors who wanted to spar against him. Harry was winning more and more of these matches and his confidence was spiking. But, someone always came along to make sure he didn't get over-confident. Not that he minded. If he had a perfect record, he was sure the Aurors would demand him to end it more loudly than any others.

That evening there was a small party for Caitlan. Harry and Thia both spoiled her rotten with gifts and attention. Thia did have to leave, unexpectedly, but she gave Tonks the night off, unless something horrible happened. Apparently, whatever it was, it wasn't bad enough for Thia to call for Tonks by the time they all had left.

The next day, all most all of the Aurors were missing from their table, and Harry felt his stomach plummet. That couldn't mean anything good. Thankfully, today wasn't a day that Harry had to whittle away. Today was his first N.E.W.T.'s exam: Defense Against the Dark Arts. After breakfast, the fifth and seventh years milled around in the Entrance Hall, waiting for the professors to transform the Great Hall into exam layout.

The written half of the exam went by quickly. Harry finished with half the time left and sat there, waiting to be let free. Most of the stuff on the exam were spells Druce had taught him last winter and spring. Harry knew the D.A. members would get high marks on this exam. They'd learnt all of this over the years and shouldn't have any issues. He looked around the Hall, watching everyone work.

Hermione was tickling the tip of her nose with her quill as she thought about an answer, Ron had his head down on the desk thinking desperately or maybe sleeping, Blaise was writing an answer slowly and deliberately, Neville was scribbling quickly--

"Potter, keep your eyes on your own exam," Severus scolded from the front of the room.

Harry shrugged, and looked at the back side of his exam paper. The parchment was only slightly better than a blank page of white paper he would have had to stare at if he was a muggle student. He stared at the variations of muted yellows and browns that made up the parchment, tracing some of the patterns with a dry quill.

A bolt of genius hit him, and he dipped the tip into his ink. He drew the boxes for naughts and crosses and put down an O in the middle. He went to make an X in the upper left corner, but the ink wouldn't mark. He tried again, and it still wouldn't work. He tried again, hoping the third time would be the charm, but it still didn't work.

"Anti-cheating ink, Potter," Severus whispered in his ear, making Harry jump. He'd been so focused on the stupid ink he hadn't notice Severus' nearly silent approach. "You can't play naughts and crosses against yourself without cheating. Impossible."

"Impossible is only highly improbable," Harry responded, starting over. This time he placed an X in the lower left corner. He re-dipped his quill, and drew an O in the top left corner. The ink didn't leave even a dot behind. Severus snorted at him and left. Harry tried again. And again. He re-drew the grid and tried again. And again. And again.

Okay, so he was going to have to outsmart the creator of the charm. A human created every charm, which meant another could break it. All it took was figuring out a counter charm. But that would take research on this particular anti-cheating charm, and Harry doubted the professors would allow him to do that. Not that it really mattered, his Latin was crap compared to Hermione's so he'd never figure out the right words to use without her.

He'd just have to think of a different way of thinking about the problem. How did anti-cheating spells work? They wouldn't allow him to write if he'd gotten the answer from some other source than his own mind. But ink couldn't judge that. If it could, it'd be thinking. And just like Mr. Weasley used to say, "Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain!" So, the charm must judge something inside, a thought pattern or something that belonged to the test taker.

Harry was sure Hermione knew exactly what it used to determine cheaters.

It wouldn't let Harry mark the X, because naughts and crosses played against one's self required the person to pick the winner from the start. But it would allow a grader to mark though. So, another person, who should technically be an outside source, would still be able to write. That was an interesting thought.

Maybe, if he used Occlumency and created two personas, he'd outsmart it. He drew a new grid, pretended to be "X," dipped his quill in the ink, and marked down an X. He pretended to be "O" and marked down an O in the other corner.

It worked.

He grinned up at Severus, who was watching him, and continued with his game. It actually became a challenge, both as an Occlumency lesson and as a naughts and crosses game.

"Time's up," McGonagall said, spelling the exams to come forward. Harry gripped his, determined to finish his eighth game. "Mr. Potter," she exclaimed, frustrated by his reluctance to let go. "You've been finished for over an hour now."

"I--Never mind," he said, changing his mind about explaining, and he let go of the exam. The students wandered out; they had thirty minutes until lunch.

"What were you doing?" Ron asked, once Harry caught up with his group.

"Playing naughts and crosses," Harry replied, taking his seat against the tree and looking out across the Lake contentedly. "I was using Occlumency to create two personas and I was actually challenging myself. It was great."

"My goodness, you were bored," Hermione said, laughing. "Playing naughts and crosses against yourself is just sad. Even worse, you were enjoying it!"

"But I wasn't playing against myself," Harry answered. "When I tried that, it wouldn't work, because of the anti-cheating spells. I had to create two personas."

"Okay," Dean said, placating Harry.

"Fine, the subtle differences and difficulties of using Occlumency to create two separate identities within one's own mind to play naughts and crosses with ink charmed against cheating is lost on you simpletons," Harry said, copying Severus' silky, sarcastic voice perfectly.

"So, you succeeded, Potter?" Severus said, his voice pitched to the exact tone he used to make first-years tremble.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, turning around and smiling his pride. "And you said I couldn't outsmart the ink."

"Well, I do have reason to doubt your mental capabilities," Severus replied.

"Ah, come on, no hard feelings," Harry said, stretching out pompously. "Just because you couldn't figure out how to outsmart the ink, doesn't mean you should hate me for my brilliance."

The other students watched the two, many of them with their mouths dropped in surprised horror. Harry could tell Dean and Seamus were about to swap bets on how long it would take Severus to kill him.

"I have had no reason to outsmart ink, Potter," Severus replied. "Just because the ability to outsmart ink is an accomplishment to your simple mind, does not mean it is an accomplishment to the rest of us."

"Very well, you win," Harry said, standing up with a sigh. He brushed off his trousers and looked at the taller man expectantly. "Is there any reason for you tormenting me right now?"

"Just wanted to compliment you on outsmarting the ink," Severus said, smiling. He turned and started to walk away.

"Severus, wait," Harry called, getting ready to block any spell that might come his way for what he was about to say. Severus turned to look at Harry. "You know, if you really wanted to scare your first years, you should just smile at them."

Harry ducked behind the tree as Severus sent a curse at him. Harry jumped out and away from the others, sending a retaliation hex at the Potions Master. Severus and Harry started to duel in earnest, both using Legilimency as well as spells to attack.

Harry got a firm grip in Severus' mind, and both Harry and Severus came to a stand still as the battle moved into the mental. Severus blocked Harry's attempts to take over; Harry tried to force memories that he knew would make Severus stumble into the forefront of the other man's mind.

Severus scrambled to get any handhold into Harry's mind to force the younger man into a defensive role, even if it was only a small one. Harry blocked every attempt, making Severus more and more desperate. Finally, Harry had what he considered complete control of the duel, Severus' mental self suppressed, and so he backed out quickly, casting a stunning spell at the last second. The seventh years were surprised when the red light shot out of Harry's wand and stunned the Professor.

Harry shook his head to clear it and looked across the way. He hurried over, revived Severus, and helped the man to stand. Severus was a bit unstable as he stood up.

"What the hell was that?" Blaise asked softly.

"Nothing you want to know about," Ron answered honestly. "For your safety."

"Uncle Severus, you alright?" Ginny asked, hurrying over to support Severus' other side.

"I am fine," he replied, keeping his voice soft and under control. "Good, Harry. Good. The timing was perfect."

"Do you want help back up to the castle?" Harry asked, knowing how unsettling that was to go through.

"No, I can manage," he said proudly, but, taking one step alone, he stumbled. He would have fallen, had Harry and Ginny not caught him.

"Professor, why don't you sit with us?" Hermione asked anxiously. "I swear, we won't bite, even if we are savage Gryffindors."

"Hey, we all aren't!" Sephra exclaimed. "Some of us are members of the civilized Houses at this school."

"True," Hermione acknowledged. "See, you are perfectly safe here."

"Fine, whatever," Severus muttered, holding his head in an attempt to ward off the pain. "Stop the bickering."

"Please," Ginny chided, but Severus said nothing. "Why, yes, Uncle, since you asked so nicely, we'll stop."

"Ginny, don't," Harry said, trying not to sound scolding. The headaches Legilimency caused hurt, and he knew that Severus wouldn't be in the mood for teasing. Severus sat against the tree, resting his head back. The seventh years who didn't know "Uncle Severus" were shocked at the show of weakness, but Harry knew that the Potions Master really didn't have the energy to act any other way.

"So, how was the exam for the rest of you?" Harry asked, looking at the others.

"Easy," Blaise answered.

"I didn't have enough time," Neville answered. The others looked at him surprised. "I knew too much!" he said defensively. "I had too much to say and I wasted too much time on the first few answers."

"Easy," Lavender answered as well. "Though, could someone tell me what the answer was for the corporeal Protronus? I couldn't remember the theory, even if I've been able to do it for years."

Hermione explained the theory as Harry looked over the Lake. Reaching above the short trees on the slight peninsula sticking out into the Lake was Dumbledore's Spire. The old man would be so proud of all they had accomplished. Harry wished that Dumbledore had lived to see them graduate, lived to see Voldemort vanquished.

A bone-weary Tonks left the Auror Headquarters and, spotting them, headed over to the group. She sat on another side of the tree and rested her own head back. She wore her Black looks and several of the students that knew her looked at her oddly as if they couldn't recognize her.

"What's the matter, Tonks?" Harry asked, both to let the others know who this "strange" Auror was and to find out what had happened.

"We lost the Ministry," she answered, not even believing herself as she said it. "Thia and the Minster have moved everything here anyways, but still, we lost it."

"What?" everyone asked as one, even Severus, whose eyes snapped open and head snapped to look at her.

"Yeah, I know," she answered. "Voldemort has gotten a huge army out of Knockturn Alley, and they're holding or, rather, destroying Diagon Alley. That left his Death Eaters and hired Dark Wizards free to attack the Ministry. And Hogsmeade is a fort now, and they're able to hold it with a minimal force. It's horrible. I almost wish they'd go back to random attacks." She paused, and her face fell. "No! I didn't mean that! I'm just so...tired. And we lost so many. Thia's back in St. Mungo's. Nothing too serious, a hex just reacted badly to the Dark curse still in her body from Hogsmeade. She'll be out in no time, we hope."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, and they all listened as Tonks described the grim fate of the Ministry.

"The Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked, his voice a chilling calm. If Voldemort got his hands on those Time-Turners... He had to suppress the shiver that threatened to shake his whole body.

"Our only hold out," Tonks answered. "Those Unspeakables are vicious. And they've got a lot of interesting spells and protections. The Department of Mysteries is the oldest part of the Ministry. It's not that much younger than Hogwarts. Couple hundred years or so. There's probably ten Unspeakables down there, a handful from Law Enforcement, and other workers who where in at the time of the attack. Some of them might have gotten out, but the attack focused on floors one, two, and nine, so I doubt it."

"What's on those floors?" Dean asked.

"One is the Minster's office and her people," Tonks answered. "Again, she has all her important stuff here. Hogwarts is unbelievably stronger than the Ministry ever was. Two is Auror division, Law Enforcement, and a couple small offices."

"Dad used to work on that floor," Ginny said softly.

"Yeah, young gal works there now," Tonks said with a tired but bright smile. "Celeste has the coolest hair that I've ever seen on a non-Metamorphagus. It's Ravenclaw blue, but it goes back and forth between blue and black, depending on the light. I've tried to copy it, but I can't. And I'm too tired to even think about trying to make my hair a shade lighter and a bit shorter. Blah, battles suck. Give me a hunt any day over those things."

"How are you going to make it to bed?" Harry asked, watching Tonks close her eyes once more.

"I'm not," Tonks replied sadly. "I'm gonna camp here for awhile, and then bunk down on one of the spare cots in Headquarters. I'm on normal duty now, though I've been ordered to rest. I just have to be in yelling distance."

"That's why I'm not being one of those," Harry said. The bell rang to signal the start of lunch. "See you later, Tonks."

Tonks nodded her head and the students and Severus headed up to the castle to eat.

"He's preparing for the final battle," Severus said thoughtfully.

"I know," Harry responded. "But so are we."

"True," Severus said with a slight nod. "Hogwarts is next."

"I know," Harry echoed. "Is she going to be able to stand? Voldemort's cut us off from the major centers."

"She's going to have to," Severus answered grimly. "Otherwise, you're the only hope."

"No pressure."

"None at all."

"Great."

"You're the one who chose to believe the Prophecy."

"I know."

"Then stop bemoaning your fate, and worry about your exam coming up."

"No need. It's all elementary stuff."

"Well, then, nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, right," Harry replied, taking his seat at the Gryffindor table. "Nothing at all." Severus nodded, and then headed to his own seat at the head table. "Nothing." He realized that he was actually trying to convince himself of the fact.

Harry ate his meal in silence, trying not to worry about everything that wasn't N.E.W.T.-related. The butterflies he was accustomed to feeling when he was about to begin a Quidditch match started to fly about as he thought about the coming battle. It was inevitable and the evidence pointed to it coming soon. He just wasn't sure how soon or if he'd be ready when it came. He supposed he'd just have to wait and see and hope for the best.

Hermione stood at the front of the students, staring with wide, horror-filled eyes at what was now the corpse of Harry Potter.

How the bloody hell had that happened?

She'd been looking the other way, looking at Ron, who'd been looking at Remus, who'd been looking at Tonks, who'd been looking--They'd all been looking the wrong way when it had happened.

They'd let him down.

Voldemort had attacked early that next morning, no one but the on-duty Aurors were awake and ready, most of the older students comatose from last minute cramming. A Death Eater assassin had snuck in and had killed McGonagall in her bed. Her death weakened the wards considerably and Voldemort's ward breakers had no issues with destroying them.

Death Eaters poured in just as Hogwarts had rallied itself, but the side of Light were too late, too few, and too slow. Then Harry had stepped forward, glowing with that energy that showed up randomly, and the Death Eaters had stopped, seemingly frozen. It was as if time had stopped for the brief exchange between two enemies fated to hate one another.

"Voldemort!" Harry had shouted. "Face me! There's no need for you to bring Hogwarts down, I'm right here!"

"Maybe I want to see it torn apart, stone by stone," Voldemort had yelled back, coming forward through his soldiers to face Harry.

"I don't think so," Harry had replied, his voice filled with confidence that surprised Hermione. "Tom Riddle considered this home, and I think you do as well. And we both know that Hogwarts is a wonderful castle for you to rule from. Much better than the cathedral you now call home."

"What do you want?"

"A wizard's duel. I remember, you were quite fond of them, and I'm finally a worthy opponent."

"I doubt that," Voldemort had sneered, but when he continued, his voice was thoughtful. "But very well. The stakes?"

"You know them. 'Either must die at the hand of the other.'"

"Very well, but I promise nothing for the rest of my force."

"Nor do I."

"To the death, then."

"The death," Harry had said, with a short nod. He had looked so calm, so ready, and Hermione had thought he would win.

She blinked and the past came to the present. There was Harry's corpse, his eyes staring up at the sky, a look of surprise on his face. Not even Harry had been ready for it when it came.

Had he been looking the wrong way as well?

Wood smoke drifted up to Hermione's nose and she sneezed. The Death Eaters had set the Forbidden Forest on fire to punish the creatures within. Hermione felt tears finally chase one another down her checks as she recognized Pravus flying above the flames, calling for his mother. Pravus was the foal she, Ron, and Neville had been raising. Gravel from the drive dug into her knees. The Death Eaters had routed them. In those few minutes of stunned disbelief, they had lost.

Now, Voldemort had those who had survived on the side of Light kneeling in a line, arms bound behind them with cords that wrapped around their neck and ankles as well. Death Eaters stood on either side of the Nightmare. Voldemort looked at the prisoners with disdain.

"Put them in the dungeons," he ordered, waving a hand in dismissal as he turned to enter the castle. "I don't want to deal with them now."

Several Death Eaters herded them inside and found a dungeon deep below the castle that hadn't been converted into something else over the years. They would take one or two out every so often, and screams could be heard and coarse, mocking laughter from the Death Eaters. Hermione didn't want to think about what was going on in the other rooms. Not all of the prisoners returned and those who did were huddling messes.

Hours or maybe days later--Hermione didn't know; she must have been so exhausted that she'd fallen asleep even with things the way they were--the prisoners that could walk were forced to march to the Great Hall.

The Death Eaters had been busy redecorating. The Slytherin banners were up, as well as large drapes of black that Hermione recognized as the funereal banners.

She felt tears course down her checks once more as she thought about those who had died (Harry and Ron in particular) and how fitting it was for Voldemort to be hanging those drapes. Voldemort had mortally wounded Hogwarts herself. Hermione couldn't help but think the school would never recover.

Only the professor table was in the room, but Death Eaters lined the sides of the Hall, decked out in their finest garb. Obviously quite a bit of time had gone by.

Hours?

Days?

Hermione had no idea. The table had been moved to the side and what looked like scribes were sitting at it now. At the front of the room sat a huge throne and in that throne sat the nightmare living.

Lord Voldemort.

Or was it King now?

Hermione had a feeling he might be changing his title soon, if he hadn't already.

The scribes went one by one through the prisoners, examining them. Death Eaters watched with interest and Voldemort watched his Death Eaters. Then, one by one, the prisoners were called forward and forced to kneel in front of Voldemort. Denis Creevey was the first.

"Creevey, Denis," the scribe intoned in a voice as dry as the parchment in his hands. "Fifteen. Mudblood. Fighter. Strong. Wounded arm and leg. Arm may need to be amputated."

"Kill him," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand. "I have no use for a one armed Mudblood. Next." The scribe cast the Killing Curse and then looked down at his list.

"Patil, Padma," the scribe intoned as someone moved Denis' body to the side. "Seventeen. Pureblood. Child-bearing age. Strong. No major injuries."

"Who wishes her?" Voldemort called.

"I," a Death Eater said, stepping forward. Hermione didn't recognize him.

"Anyone else? No, very well, Alvin, you may have her. Next."

The Death Eater stepped forward and used a spell to bind Padma. Her eyes screamed as he removed her from the room. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind about why the Death Eater had wanted her. Child-bearing was a strong enough hint. The list went on and Hermione felt her head start to swim.

Neville given to Bellatrix and tortured.

Lavender given to Avery.

Dean killed as a Mudblood.

Seamus given to a witch with green tinted hair.

Parvati killed because a spell had left her unable to bear children.

Susan killed because she had spit at Voldemort.

Colin tortured because Voldemort had been bored.

Michael killed because of injuries.

Ashley Montague killed as a blood-traitor.

Blaise killed for the same reason.

Ginny given to a foreign Dark Wizard.

Sephra given to Draco. Hermione felt her blood creep as Draco led his cousin out of the Great Hall.

"Granger, Hermione," the voice called, and she was forced forward. She stood obstinately until the scribe sent a spell at her knees making her fall on her face. The Death Eaters laughed, but Voldemort eyed her carefully. "Seventeen. Mudblood. Child-bearing age. Strong. Top of class. Best friend of late Harry Potter. No major injuries."

"Anyone wish to speak for her?" Voldemort asked, surprising Hermione. She'd figured that the combination of Mudblood and Harry's best friend had doomed her to a quick death.

"I," Antonin Dolohov said, stepping forward. Hermione felt her stomach heave as she remembered the Death Eater from the Department of Mysteries. She had a weak heart because of that man. And there was no way she'd be his bed toy!

"I," Terry O'Murray said, stepping forward.

"What do you wish to use her for, Antonin?"

"She'll bear strong children, half-bloods, yes, but still strong, physically and magically."

She'd do anything to get out of that fate.

"And you, my Reaper?" Hermione waited, wondering what the woman could possibly want her for.

"I wish to reap a harvest of new recruits," Terry answered and Hermione felt her blood run cold. "Give her to me, and I will turn her into a Death Eater within a year's time."

"No!" Hermione shouted, but Voldemort's Cruciatus stopped her.

"She is yours, Terry. If she is not loyal to me in a year, she will be yours, Antonin."

The year passed quickly for Hermione. She remembered very little of her training or of her life beforehand. She remembered Harry and how she hated the over-confident bastard. She remembered Ron, the cheating scum bag. She remembered little else, besides years of teasing and mocking. She remembered nothing that could be comparably good, not until after she became Terry's apprentice.

Tonight she was to appear before Voldemort to be tested once more. Just as before, King Voldemort sat in his throne, his loyal Death Eaters and their families arrayed to each side, lining the edge of the Great Hall. An infant screamed, calling for food.

From where she stood in the doorway, Hermione watched the Patil concubine hush the wailing child. Death Eater Alvin cast a silencing spell on his son. Hermione smirked; the man was wise to do that. Their king looked most displeased. Finally, the time came for her test. A young boy of thirteen or fourteen walked to the center of the room, standing in the middle of the green carpeted path leading to the throne.

"Your Majesty," the boy disclaimed, his voice naturally filling the Great Hall. "Lady Reaper and her apprentice, Hermione Granger." The boy scurried back to his spot next to the door.

The two ladies walked forward, striding purposefully. They stopped twenty feet from the throne and crawled forward to kiss the hem of the King's robes. They inched backwards and waited to be allowed to rise.

"My Reaper, rise," he said silkily. "This is looking promising. Granger, look up at me." Hermione raised her head and looked into the eyes of the Dark King. She felt their King sift through her mind and welcomed him. "Promising indeed. Continue with the ceremony."

Hermione smiled; her deepest wish was coming true.

She was to be the first Mudblood allowed into the Dark King's service. It was an honor that she would not waste. She bowed her head to the floor, her forehead touching the green velvet carpet.

"Are you willing to do everything and anything your King commands?" Lady Reaper asked sternly.

"I am more than willing to do everything and anything that my King commands," Hermione replied, her voice ringing throughout the Throne Chamber.

"Are you willing to give your life to eradicate all mudbloods, their sympathizers, and muggles?" the Lady asked solemnly.

"I am willing to carry out the noble work of the Dark King at any cost, including my life." Hermione could feel Voldemort's satisfaction roll off of him and over her.

"Are you willing to kill, torture, and devastate any and all of your King's enemies?"

Members of the crowd on either side whispered furiously, but there was nothing they could do. If the Dark King wanted a Mudblood in his service, than by Hell, he was going to have one. And she would be that one!

"I am willing to kill, torture, and devastate all of my King's enemies," Hermione replied earnestly.

She looked forward to eradicating the Muggle-animals and those who hadn't accepted the Dark King's rule. A small and pathetic remnant of the Light still existed; the werewolf was leading them. Hermione hoped she'd be the one to kill him for all he'd done to her and the other female students.

The bloody hypocrite.

"Step forward to take the final oath," Hermione's master instructed her. Voldemort stood and Hermione shuffled forward on her knees. She felt a tremor of fear course through her body as Voldemort approached, but she did not hate it. It was a fear filled with awe and admiration and she welcomed it. The King grabbed her left arm and pulled her up roughly.

"Do you swear on pain of death to loyally and completely serve, obey, and please me?" Voldemort asked her.

"I swear on pain of death to loyally and completely serve, obey, and please you, Your Majesty," Hermione answered, her voice perfectly controlled and even.

"Very well," Voldemort said, letting go of her arm. She fell back to her knees, her head reverently bowed before him. There was a murmur of surprise at her actions; she knew they all doubted her sincerity. "Stand and give me your arm, Hermione Granger," the Dark King Voldemort finished ceremoniously.

Hermione stood up and gave him her arm and their King pressed his wand to her bare white forearm.

"Morsmordre!"

Hermione hardly winced at the pain and the smell of burnt flesh rose to her nostrils. She reveled in the pain that would make her truly his.

"Welcome, Death Eater Granger," the Dark King stated, releasing her.

Hermione fell to her knees again, but this time she stared in awe at the Dark Mark now burnt on her arm.

"You are now one of us."