Slytherin

In the sprawling city of Manchester, England the summer was taking its yearly toll on everyone. The rains were gone for the season and the rarely cloudless sky was bare and blue. Everyone was dressed in shorts and T-shirts and let the rare sun bathe them in light and warmth. Cars bustled about the city center and suburbs with air conditioners going at full steam. It even got to the point where people were worried about an impending heat wave, that would cause injuries if not fatalities too many. But this was so unlikely, since the British Isles was so close to the Arctic Circle and the freezing North Sea.

Manchester these days was a city in transition. It's Industrial Revolution past gave the city a spot in history, but this was the apparent Information Age and since the coal had run out and the factories long since closed down, the city and its citizens had to sustain themselves. Right now the city center was undergoing extensive rebuilding to modern architecture, moving away from the old brickwork warehouses and factories that use to characterize the area and moving to a economy based on modern needs. It also helped that the city was home to two very successful Premier Soccer League teams. This alone seemed to give the city its nostalgic attraction and encouraged people to come and live there. It was the in place to have property and the prices showed it.

One person did not own any property. In the east of the city where the government Orphanage Home was, was a teenager of sixteen years old. He was lying on his back with his shirt off taking in the sun, in the backyard of a large two floors home that housed orphans of his age. The green grass was freshly mowed and the flowerbed tended, it was a very beautiful garden, as well it should be. Since the teenage boy was responsible for it and its upkeep, whereas the other nine teenage orphans did work in the house during the summer.

He was relaxing after working hard in the garden; as well he should since his nerves were otherwise shot in anticipation. He ran his hand distractedly through his short dark blonde hair. This was the day he knew he would be getting his OWL results. This was the day that would decide what his future career in the wizarding world would be.

CRASH

In a flash the boy opened his eyes to reveal intense dark blue eyes, he stood in an instant and had his hand in his jeans pocket where a secret holster held his wand. He scanned the backyard nervously and his eyes trailed to the house where he had heard the loud noise coming from. He walked with determination into the house through the kitchen door, his eyes blazing with intensity and alarm. He sighed the instant saw what had happened.

"Hugh. Honestly, was it that necessary to scare the entire house with your blundering in the kitchen?" asked Stephen dryly.

Hugh was a tall, lanky young man of almost six feet in height but exceptionally uncoordinated, he had the unfortunate luck to draw kitchen duty and this was his fifth broken plate.

"Give me a break Stephen," Hugh snapped back, "I despise this work, unlike your frolicking in the garden."

Stephen smirked at Hugh. He was above going into a verbal war with Hugh, and it would last too long and waste time. By now, Dominic, Cornelius, Kevin and Anthony were at the scene and could barely contain their own laughter. This incensed Hugh even further.

"Having fun at my expense are you?" roared Hugh.

"Easy Hugh. You know we all like a good laugh, take it easy, and lighten up. We are just teasing you," Stephen raised his arms in a disarming conciliatory gesture.

"Well you won't be the ones having to explain this to the Supervisor," moaned Hugh.

All the boys left to their own rooms and Stephen went back into the garden to catch some more sun. It was early afternoon and there were still lots of time left for him to get a decent tan. This was how Stephen spent the rest of the day until twilight. He pulled on his shirt and headed inside the house and up to his room. As he went up the stairs, Stephen noticed the house Supervisor coming down, muttering angrily to himself.

"Evening Sir," greeted Stephen respectfully.

"Evening 'lad. I say that Hugh will be the death of me. We'll have no cutlery left by the time the month is up! Not mention everythin' else he's so clumsi' abou'."

The Supervisor's name was Gregory; a burly man of forty years of age, with rapidly thinning black hair and whose most interesting feature was an extremely pronounced jaw.

"He's been puttin' a den' in the books ever since he came here."

"I'm sure it's nothing he does on purpose Sir," Stephen shrugged, "maybe if he went to an occupational therapist they could sort those coordination problems of his out."

The Supervisor stopped for a moment with a look of surprise.

"Tha' s a ruddy brillia' idea that is," Gregory wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose in thought, "I'll write a letta' to his boardin' school, see if they can' do somethin'."

Stephen nodded and walked to his room and closed the door. The room was totally muggle in every respect, except for his school trunk, which housed all his Hogwarts things. The room itself was very basic, a single cot bed pushed to the side, a closet and study desk and bookshelf. The window overlooking the road and front yard gave a lovely view of Manchester itself, right now the lights of the city were sparkles against the darkness. He flung himself on his bouncy bed and sighed contentedly, waiting for the tapping against his window.

It was almost seven in the evening before Stephen heard what he had waited for since he had nervously finished his last OWL exam, incidentally the most boring subject, History of Magic.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was on his feet as if pulled up by strings. Stephen pulled open his window and allowed the Barn owl to land on his desk. It professionally extended its leg to him and he removed the letter. He rushed over to his trunk and pulled out an owl treat, the Barn owl hooted gratefully and seemed ruffled that Stephen had no way to care for an owl. It was one of the unfortunate conditions of his living so closely with his muggle friends that he could not own an owl; it would be too suspicious.

"Sorry, I can't help you with water," Stephen apologized sheepishly to the owl, "I keep Zahn's bowl downstairs." Zahn was Stephen's purebred Siamese cat, who was probably bothering one of his other housemates for attention at the moment. The owl hooted mournfully and spread its wings and flew off, disappearing into the night through the window.

He stared warily now at the letter in his hands, it had on the back the seal of the Wizarding Examinations Authority and on the front was the customary exact address, telling him he was in the second floor bedroom. Stephen always wondered how Hogwarts manages to write an address that accurately, was it some sort of charm, a unique Magical device of sorts. He shrugged his mental wandering away and with a deep shuddering breath he tore the seal on the letter and pulled out the parchment it revealed. He couldn't help but notice how his hands were shaking as he started to read his OWL results.

Mr. Stephen Moon.

Please find below your O.W.L. examination results. Personally, it was the most refreshing examination of a student I have done in a long while. All of the examiners had only good things to say about you in your practicals, where you showed remarkable mastery and aptitude, especially in Transfiguration. The theory sections in your various subjects could have been better, but overall there were no failures and your knowledge is most adequate.

Charms Outstanding

Transfiguration Outstanding

Defense against the Dark Arts Outstanding

Potions Outstanding

Astronomy Exceeded Expectations

Herbology Acceptable

History of Magic Acceptable

Care of Magical Creatures Acceptable

Study of Ancient Runes Exceeded Expectations

Please remember to send a letter to your Head of House, with your NEWT class selections before August the Seventh, to allow the school to finalize the timetables and equipment lists for your subjects that will be sent out a week later.

Yours truly,

Professor Griselda Marchbanks

W.E.A.

The smile that blossomed on Stephen's face could probably light an entire city. His excitement bubbled within him, and sought release.

"YESSSSS!!" he screamed, shaking his fist in triumph, "take that Snape! Eat my dust, Umbridge!"

He recalled vividly the Career advice session with Professor's Snape and Umbridge. First, the Potions master scoffed at his ambition, saying his Potions mark would never allow him into NEWT's level and Umbridge thought that because of his past familial associations, namely his deceased parents, he would never be employed in his desired profession.

Stephen was ready to give that--woman--the darkest non-lethal curse he could throw. Professor Snape must have seen the fire in Stephen's eyes and hurriedly sped the session along. Snape knew that Stephen Moon was someone that was not to be crossed, as the Professor had to often escort those Slytherins who did tangle with him, to the Hospital wing. Snape though did not punish Stephen by taking house points for those occasions; the Professor did not want to ruin Slytherin's house cup chances. So Stephen would happily sit in detention as he studied obscure spell and runic language books that he had went and bought in Knockturn and Diagon Alley's or borrowed from the school library. No one saw the kind of books he was studying, since the covers were always camouflaged with a quick transfiguration.

"Oi! Stephen! Keep it down!" yelled four voices in unison.

Stephen giggled in happiness. He folded his results letter carefully and placed it the secret compartment of his trunk.

"Well Stephen, it looks like you're on your way," he murmured to himself with a smile of satisfaction.

*

For the next two weeks, Stephen was riding on a cloud of joy and it was easy to forget the fact that Voldemort was back in the wizarding world.

He and his housemates went on an outing to watch a Manchester United football league game at Old Trafford in the first weekend. It was the greatest fun. The stadium was packed to the seam with red scarf supporters. And there was nothing like being caught up in the mass drone of fans supporting their team, it was almost a copy of the Quidditch World cup, but this was a regularly occurring spectacle, not something that happens every four years.

During evenings most of the mates would head off to the cinemas and malls, Stephen would invariably also go. But it was sorely tempting to hail the Knights Bus and head off to Diagon alley for a little while, but it was not safe anymore, it would be tempting fate. He would only go there to send his course selections off to Hogwarts.

Stephen's days were filled with work though, since he did not limit his garden tending to just the Orphanage. Almost everyone in the neighborhood around the Orphanage knew Stephen and delighted in his keeping gardens. For this, he was nicely paid in Muggle money and since the money he was spending was something earned, it was so much more satisfying than using his inheritance the whole time. Some people were so used to Stephen's services during the summer, that they admitted their wish that he could tend all year. Thankfully this was not his ambition, it was something he did for money and the desirable effect the work had on his body.

Another little something that Stephen attended during the days was martial art training at a local dojo not ten minutes walk from the orphanage. This was started when he happen to walk past the very same dojo after his first year in Hogwarts. Stephen often wondered what his school housemates would think of him indulging in what they considered 'muggle-dueling'. Ignorant wizard raised idiots all of them are, what would happen if that wand would be taken, what then? But this training was something that he held close to his chest. His sensei had told him that one does not show what you are capable of; otherwise your opponent won't underestimate you. The style that Stephen was training was called Ninjitsu or The Invisible Way. A very simplistic, effective and lethal martial art, which had no Hollywood over-elaboration and flourishes in it. Its essence was subterfuge and deception, which appealed to Stephen in many ways.

It was in the first week of August though that Stephen was reminded that Voldemort directed his ire not only at Muggle-Borns. It was Monday evening, he, Hugh and Anthony had decided to go to the most fashionable and affluent cinemas complex in Manchester. They went for the movie but mostly also for the socialization that could occur at the place. There were bars, arcades, bowling alleys, restaurants, and everything else associated with the words Hollywood or Entertainment.

In other words for Hugh and Anthony they were there for one reason...girls. Stephen had to admit that he was also there for this reason, but he could not imagine striking a serious relationship with a normal woman, only witches were for him. But it did not prevent him from--looking at the menu--so to speak.

Striking up conversation with girls was quite easy. Hugh was the point man. He would look for a girl he liked; invariably she would be with a group of her female friends, and take the plunge. Anthony and Stephen followed in his wake and the evening was set.

Stephen had talked that evening with a girl named Penny. She had long ash blonde hair and dull blue eyes with a seemingly constant smile on her face. She was fifteen and had the quintessential muggle problems in her life, High School, boys, her parents, sports. Stephen used his totally over used cover story superbly and deflected any question that was too probing. She was remarkably pleasant and had she been a witch, he could seriously imagine pursuing a relationship with her.

Eventually the girls all said their goodbyes and headed off home, while Hugh encouraged his two friends to have a plunge at another group of girls.

"No Hugh, our movie is starting in thirty minutes, that's enough time just to say 'hello' and 'bye'," snapped Anthony.

"Yeah Hugh. Give me a break, its tiring talking with girls," moaned Stephen, massaging his throat.

All three boys headed to the lower level where the front doors of the complex were, it was also where the concessions stand was located. Since they hoped to stock up with popcorn and coke before the movie was due to begin. Anthony drew the short straw to stand in the cue, while Hugh and Stephen sat down in the common area, not five meters from the concessions stand, which was littered with small tables and chairs for people to wait in and chat.

"This holiday can not be long enough," said Hugh airily.

"Yeah," sighed Stephen.

But then Stephen's brain registered a very familiar feeling. There were goose pimples on his arms and the fair hair on them was standing at rigid attention. It was hardly cold. Something else had materialized in the air, the crackling of magic, and the fact that this place was as muggle as they come, meant that something bad was about to happen.

Stephen became rigid in his seat, his hand moving to his jeans pocket. His eyes were lit with fire and he glanced everywhere around him in an effort to determine the source of the magic. Stephen's eyes looked out of the glass front doors and his worst fears were realized.

Seven Death Eaters, wands out, their black hooded robes billowing, and their white masks gleaming mockingly, strode into the complex.

Stephen flung the round steel table they were sitting over and pulled tall Hugh out of his seat with surprising strength, who was staring stupidly in surprise at the appearance of what to him looked like Grim Reapers, how right he was in that thought.

Hugh was barely behind the cover of the table when curses started to fly through the air. And everything burst into chaos. Stephen could see magic of every color crackling in the air. All the colors of the rainbow were represented. The screaming that was coming from the muggles was deafening. Everyone was hastily retreating into the interior of the cinema complex and going to emergency exits. Stephen could see some people running away from those very exits not a couple of seconds later, it became apparent that the Death Eaters had every exit covered.

Stephen looked up and saw two green flashes of light fly over their table. He stared in horror as the killing curses slammed into a crowd of retreating people, two of whom slumped to the ground, lifeless.

WHERE IS THE BLOODY MINISTRY! Thought Stephen. Surely they were aware of all this sudden magical activity and would send Aurors. Suddenly more green flashes began to streak from the Death Eaters.

Anger unlike anything Stephen had ever felt burned in him, at these Death Eaters, at Voldemort. He even heard the cruel laughter coming from the dark wizards as they leisurely threw curses and had their fun.

"Hugh! Stay here! Hear ME!" shouted Stephen at his friend above the roar of spells, who could only nod dumbly.

He peeped around the table and saw the line of Death Eaters not five meters from their overturned table. It seemed as if they had not noticed that there were convenient targets behind the overturned table. He did not dare draw attention as well, as Hugh could be killed. Stephen did not dare run in the line of fire, either. He had to distract the Death Eaters. He pulled out his wand; its comforting holly wood finish gleamed at him. He poked his wand slowly from cover, with it pointed at the line of Death Eaters, his back to Hugh, to prevent his friend from seeing.

'Fumus umbraculum!' bellowed Stephen above the roar of spells.

It was as if a dark cloud of black smoke had sprung up from nowhere and enveloped the wizards in its haze. Stephen bolted out of cover and sprinted to the concessions stand, he vaulted over it and found numerous people had also taken shelter here. He ran towards a door marked STAFF ONLY and went inside. It led to a hallway lined with doors, which were all shut, most likely people were hiding in some of those rooms. He peeped back through the door and saw that his black cloud had been banished. The Death Eaters had all stopped, and were looking around; they knew there was a wizard here now. The wizards all glanced at each other and nodded. They all split up and headed in various directions.

Stephen's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he saw a Death Eater headed towards him. He closed the door and studied it more carefully. It swung inwards and had a doorstop that would stop it from banging against the back wall, should someone open it too hard. This left a space behind the door, the perfect ambush spot. Stephen crouched in this spot as he started to hear the screaming of people just outside the door. The Death Eater was having his fun with the muggles behind the counter.

Once again Stephen wondered where the hell was the Ministry.

The Death Eater was now at the door and cautiously opened it. Stephen was tensed and ready, and the wizard walked slowly forward into the hallway, totally unaware that he did not check behind the door, or that anybody could be hiding there.

Obviously not one of the brighter ones. Thought Stephen dryly.

Stephen rushed up behind the dark wizard and lashed out with a powerful snap kick right into the small of the Death Eater's back. It flung the dark wizard forward out of balance and sprawling his arms ineffectually in the air. The wizard's wand clattered out of his grip. Stephen regained his footing and aimed sure and true with his wand.

"Stupefy!" a jet of red magic struck the wizard as he was just landing on the floor and lay still, unconscious.

A sudden squawk filled the air and Stephen aimed his wand down the hallway. An owl was heading to him and dropped a letter at his feet and flew off from where it had come.

It was a Ministry reprimand letter.

They could detect his underage magic, but couldn't register a dozen killing curses flung in a muggle cinema complex! His anger rose even more as he flung the letter in the air.

"Incendio!" the letter disintegrated into ashes.

Just then, the door down the hallway burst open; Stephen just reacted on reflex, flung himself to the ground and rolled.

"Strangulo!" he shot a Constriction Curse to the barely perceptible dark figure in the doorway. The figure staggered and fell forward, unable to breathe or incant a curse, the dust from the disintegrated door was clearing and he could now see it was a Death Eater.

"Stupefy!" the second Death Eater joined his companion in the land of nod.

POP. The sound of an Apparating body is not something one easily forgets. Stephen whirled to see an Auror in his white robes and cloak standing in the hallway behind him.

"What in blazes are you doing lad?" the Auror roared, he was a wizard about a head taller than Stephen with an angry face, and had a dark complexion and even darker black eyes and hair. Stephen goggled in anger at the Auror.

"I'm doing your FUCKING job! Or do those two Death Eaters who tried to attack me not count for something!" screamed Stephen pointing his wand to the two prone dark figures lying on the floor, wands loosely held in their hands. The Auror's eyes widened in comprehension, "at least ten of them are now working their way through the complex, killing curses blazing, how in the hell did you not detect that? But you can detect me trying to defend myself and send me a fucking reprimand letter!" the Auror frowned at him, obviously not used to the muggle swearing.

"Stay hidden. Defend yourself if you must. I'm getting reinforcements," was all the Auror said before he apparated away again.

Stephen groaned, hide? Where? He could still hear the blazing of spells in the distance. He decided to try the many doors in the corridor for a place to hang out the remains of this disaster. Not a single door was accessible. He put his ear to the nearest door and heard urgent whispers and whimpering. They had locked themselves in. Stephen gave a resigned breath and headed back to the entrance hall, where the attack first started. He hid to the side of the blasted door and peeked into the place. What he saw would remain ingrained in his memory forever.

The floor was littered with people, some moaning in pain, others unconscious and others most certainly were dead. Stephen had to fight to keep his lunch down as he caught sight of some of the muggles that had hidden themselves behind the concessions stand. Some were hideously partly transfigured into animals, others were limbless, he pulled back from the sight and his breathing was now coming in heavy gasps.

Death Eaters were nowhere immediately in sight. It occurred to Stephen that he should be hiding, he should be looking out for his own safety but the sight of all those people was stabbing into his heart and soul.

He emerged from his cover keeping low to the ground and walked back to the rear of the concessions stand. Once again he had to keep himself from spewing his lunch, he swallowed and started trying to determine what was done to the muggles there.

The first was a man who had blonde hair and was still carrying his popcorn bag in one hand, with its contents spilt on the floor. Stephen felt for a pulse in the man's neck...none. He stared into the eyes of the man and had to repress a shudder...empty and the victim of a killing curse.

He went over to the limbless muggle who was moaning in horror and pain. Stephen looked around and after a minute of searching behind the counter found all the man's limbs. Stephen had an Outstanding in Transfiguration, but human transfigurations were NEWT level. He shook off his doubt and cleared his mind, developing a clear picture of how the arm would be attached. The man was lucky that there was no bleeding as the curse was apparently made to keep the victim alive but in physical and emotional pain.

"Restutio." He waved his wand while holding the man's arm in place; it molded like clay back to his shoulder and was attached. The procedure was repeated for all three other limbs.

"Stupefy," the man slumped into blissful unconsciousness. Stephen moved onto the next person and found a woman shaking like a leaf and whimpering, she was as white as a sheet. It looked like descriptions he had read of the after effects of a Cruciatus Curse. The only thing he could think of was to stun her. The next two people he examined were dead; Stephen closed their sightless blank eyes. The next person he saw was a man who was half-human and half-horse, but this was no centaur. The upper body was the front quarters of a horse while the rest of him was still human. It took a lot of effort to swallow the bile in his throat and clear his mind enough to restore the man to fully human, and it took three unsuccessful tries before that.

He stood to regard the entrance hall once again. There were numerous people on the ground moaning, groaning and even crying. Stephen glanced over to where he had left Hugh and walked slowly to where his friend was lying slumped on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Stephen kneeled next to his friend and felt for a pulse. It was then that he felt the first tears begin roll over his cheek. He closed his friend's eyes. Memories of their nine years of friendship shot through him like lightning. Stephen looked to his right and saw a small child shaking the body of what seemed like his mother, but his mother was utterly still and her eyes sightless. Sadness such as he had never felt exploded in him. Stephen crawled over to the little boy. The boy who looked no older than five glanced at him and back at his dead mother.

"Mommy does not want to wake up," the child moaned, pushing on his mother's prostrate form in an attempt to wake her up. The fact that Stephen was crying was also not lost on the little boy.

"What's your name?" asked Stephen with a forced smile as he knelt in front of the boy.

"Martin," the little boy looked into Stephen's eyes, "why mommy not wants to wake?"

Stephen swallowed hard, his tears now obscuring his sight. "Your mommy wants to Martin, but she can't. She loves you very much, but the evil wizards stopped her from waking ever again." Tears started to now fill little Martin's eyes.

"Mommy...dead." The little boy trembled and fell forward as his little legs would no longer support him, right into Stephen's embrace. Little Martin began the wailing of a child who lost a parent. Stephen almost wished he could remember crying for his own parents, since he hardly remembered them.

"Do you have a Daddy, Martin?" asked Stephen while breaking the embrace. The little boy nodded to another prostrate form lying on the floor two meters from them. Stephen examined little Martin's father, there was a pulse thankfully, normal breathing. He seemed merely unconscious. Soon he discovered why. All the bones in the tall man's legs were broken; the pain must have excruciating.

"Prohibeo Tibia Cruciatus," he waved his wand over the man's legs and hoped his makeshift charm would do the work. He kept his mind focused on the feeling he had when a dentist would numb his mouth before going to work. Surely enough, the father's legs glowed blue for a moment. Little Martin stared in awe at Stephen.

"You wizard. Magic. Wand." The boy now had big eyes. Stephen smiled.

"Yes, I'm a wizard, a good one. My name is Stephen. I'm helping your daddy wake up."

"Enervate," the father groaned and held his head in pain; he sat up and blinked to clear his eyes.

"Are you all right Sir?" asked Stephen. The man only nodded and little Martin flung himself at his father and began crying. "I've numbed your legs, all the bones in them are broken."

"My wife?" croaked the father.

"She was killed in the attack...over there." The news hit the man like a bat in the face and he turned in horror to his wife.

Stephen stood and walked over to where he had seen Anthony last, as the father dragged himself to his wife with little Martin still in his arms.

He found his other friend lying face down on the floor near the escalator. Stephen turned him over and more tears fell. Anthony's face was marred with deep gaping wounds that had bled out, Stephen stared at his hands; they were blood stained. His friend's clothes were soaked in blood; the Curse he was hit with was as if he was stabbed with a knife thousands of times all over his body. He had died from excessive blood loss.

Stephen clutched at his wand convulsively as he stared in horror at the blood on his hands. What he did next he was probably not even aware of doing on a rational level, but his anger, his sadness and hate all roiled and boiled in him.

"On this blood of my friend, my brother, I swear to fight Voldemort and the evil he stirs and all who call themselves loyal to him." His tears fell onto his hands and the blood on his hands began to glow with a bright golden aura, which slowly spread to engulf his entire body. The pain that engulfed his heart swelled, as did his sorrow. It was so all encompassing that he cried out and screamed. The building shook around him, as did the ground, as if a small-localized earthquake had suddenly occurred.

Pop, Pop-Pop

A group of four Aurors now Apparated into the entrance hall, while their colleagues appeared at other strategic locations and started to sweep the building. Another tall figure appeared next to the four Aurors. He was wearing extravagant robes with star and half-moon patterns, with a long white beard and hair. Half-moon spectacles framed his blue eyes, and his wand was held ready in his right hand. The old wizard was startled by what was happening. The Auror's around him were alarmed and had to crouch low to avoid losing their balance.

The sight of the glowing young man was beautiful but very powerful, and deserved a respect even a wizard such as Albus Dumbledore had to show. It also peaked his boundless curiosity as to what could have caused this phenomenon. His reason for being here was of course the fact that Mr. Moon as a Hogwarts student needed his protection, usually Minerva would do something like this but she was on a much-needed holiday.

The rumbling faded, as did the golden glow and his screaming. Stephen was slumped listless and on his knees, it felt as if his head had suddenly had the worst migraine imaginable. Tears were still streaming down his face as he stared up in a daze at a very tall figure his mind numbly registered as Headmaster Dumbledore. Stephen was kneeling directly in front of Anthony's body, staring at his friend one last time, thinking of the fact that he was happy and with his parents now.

"Mr. Moon," prompted Dumbledore. Stephen could give no response as he closed Anthony's eyes. The Headmaster kneeled down as well and now Stephen stared into the Headmaster's aged face, which was showing a deep sadness. The tears were still coming.

"Headmaster," choked Stephen.

"Was he a friend?" asked Dumbledore.

"No, he was not a friend, he was a brother, we've known each other since we were nine, he was one of my housemates at the Orphanage," Stephen sniffled loudly, "my other brother is lying there on his back...Killing Curse," he choked and pointed in the vague direction where Hugh was. Dumbledore's face was pained and he seemed to be examining Stephen very closely, glancing at his blood stained hands.

"These are hollow words Mr. Moon, but I'm sorry for your loss," Stephen nodded, "I am going to make a Portkey for you to go to Hogwarts. I think a stay in the Hospital Wing will do you good. Being in familiar surroundings will also help I should say." Dumbledore pointed his wand at the balustrade next to the escalator.

"Portus." The railing glowed blue for a moment and went back to normal.

Stephen was helped to his feet and he was swaying precariously, it seemed as if his balance was all out of whack. He gripped the balustrade and leaned on it. There was the sudden feeling of a jerk behind his navel as he was pulled irresistibly forwards in whirl of light and color.

Dumbledore watched Stephen disappear and regarded the scene around him with suppressed horror and fury. An old Auror with a wooden leg and gleaming magical left eye settled in a horribly scarred face ambled over to the Headmaster.

"We caught four Albus. As soon as we appeared they disappeared quick. Mr. Moon it seems is responsible for two of those caught. I talked to a muggle as well who said the boy started to even reverse the curses placed on some others. You should see the two Death Eaters the boy took, quick clean and stupefied, he did use a constriction curse on one though."

"Two of his best friends were killed tonight, Alastor. I would not have blamed him for doing worse," intoned Dumbledore.

"What do you think happened to him with all that golden magic? I thought the building was going to come down on top of us." Moody looked quizzically at the Headmaster.

"I have a theory Alastor, one which I must evidently verify very quickly. I need to get back to the school. I trust you will have everything in hand here." Dumbledore nodded to Moody.

"Sure thing. We now know the detection map was sabotaged; we will have to make a new one and revise security. Take care of that kid Albus. I know the makings of an Auror when I see one."

Dumbledore sighed and disappeared.

*

Stephen awoke to the chirping of birds and the rustling of opening curtains. He knew that he was very warm and comfortable and did not want to wake up, but he could not ignore all the sudden light and noise. His eyes fluttered open. He was in the Hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey was busy bustling about the ward, opening curtains and checking that the beds were neat and tidy. He glanced down to his left and noticed his trunk was there, and his wand was lying on the bedside cabinet. He poured himself a glass of water from the jug that was there as well and quenched his parched throat.

"Ah, awake I see. How are you feeling Mr. Moon?" the nurse asked with a smile. The events of last night were as fresh in Stephen's brain as if they were happening all over again, but he was totally numb to the feelings it inspired.

"I don't feel much of anything," replied Stephen mechanically.

"That's a natural defense your mind is adopting. You've been through a traumatic ordeal, you will deal with those emotions when your mind is ready, and hopefully you will heal," she said softly. Stephen just stared through the window overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Why is my trunk here?" he droned.

"Yes, the Headmaster believes it best if you remain here for the rest of the summer. The events of last night has caused quite a stir, in both wizard and muggle worlds. I'll bring you a copy of the Daily Prophet. He will be along this afternoon to check on you," explained Pomfrey. She quickly went to her office to fetch the wizarding newspaper and placed it in Stephen's lap.

Stephen could not bring himself to object to staying here, he could not think of facing his other housemates ever again. He stared at the front page of the newspaper. The main photo showed a scene of Aurors, Obliviators, Healers and Accidental Magic Reversal squad members slowly working through all the muggles at the complex. Removing curses and transfigurations, tending to wounds, collecting the dead and modifying the memories of the muggles involved. Would little Martin remember him? Would they think of modifying the little boy's memory?

MASSACRE IN MANCHESTER

At approximately nine in the evening in Manchester Mall (muggle version of Diagon Alley), an estimated group of twelve Death Eaters attacked the building, which was packed with muggles. This reporter was shocked at the horrific loss of life, at final count there were over sixty-nine muggle casualties and a hundred injured.

Most of those injured were the victims of extremely disfiguring and dark curses and grisly transfigurations, the likes of which this reporter has never seen. Not since the Eleven Years of Terror has muggle attacks of this scale and ferocity by Death Eaters been seen.

The Muggle Prime Minister has been informed of the situation, but publicly, it will be explained as a terrorist attack by muggle religious extremists.

Stephen could not read further. It was just too damn depressing. He placed the paper on his bedside table and picked up his wand. With a flick his trunk sprang open and with another flick a spell book that he had been studying came floating into his lap. He also levitated some quills, ink and parchment. Stephen had to keep himself busy, anything to just keep his mind off what happened. He might as well write his NEWT selection letter.

Professor S. Snape

Please find below my NEWT course selections.

Charms

Transfiguration

Defense against the Dark Arts

Potions

Study of Ancient Runes

Care of Magical Creatures

Thanks

Stephen Moon

He enclosed it in an envelope and placed it on his bed table. He opened his spell book Dueling Curses and Hexes and settled in a more upright position in the bed. He spent the rest of the morning reading the book, even going so far as to practice the wand movements, and making sure the curse was non-destructive, even practiced it.

He only interrupted himself for Madam Pomfrey bringing in lunch. She initially scoffed at him for using her Hospital wing as a practice room, but allowed it since it was his own way of keeping busy, and his mind busy, thereby avoiding a depressive mood.

An hour after lunch he was busy practicing a seemingly very useful curse. The Blindness Curse as its name suggested caused the victim to be blind for a period of an hour, it was reversible and it served mainly to disorientate or surprise your opponent in a duel. The wand movement was a sharp stab toward your opponent.

Stephen focused his mind on total darkness, on the concept of a total inability to see.

He raised his wand and aimed at a spot on the opposite wall of the Hospital wing.

"Praeverto visus." A jet of purple magic shot out of the end of his wand and dissipated into the wall, leaving it slightly blackened. Stephen frowned. "Reparo." The wall was as good as new. He stared at the opposite bed and noticed the decanter next to it. Out of the blue he used a curse that he had read out of a very old Egyptian spell book.

"Ta-Na'ak!" The decanter and the water inside instantly solidified into pure gold. Too bad it would revert to its original state in two hours.

It was then that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A tall figure that was watching him, how the Headmaster just 'appeared' Stephen would really like to know.

"Taking advantage of being at Hogwarts...Mr. Moon," the Headmaster stated in a half-friendly but yet accusatory fashion. Stephen turned to Dumbledore and noticed a smile on the old man's face.

"Yes Sir. Learning practical magic has always...kept my mind off things in general, when I need an escape." Dumbledore walked over to Stephen's bed and sat on the end.

"I have something here that should cheer you up a bit further." The Headmaster smiled merrily and made a screeching noise with his mouth as if he was calling a cat. That made Stephen's mind jump...Zahn. He had totally forgot about his own cat back at the Orphanage. Surely enough a meeeoww was heard and the light patter of feet on the floor. Dumbledore reached down and picked up Stephen's Siamese cat. Zahn purred contently in the Headmaster's old hands as he stroked the luxurious white coat of the cat.

"Zahn!" called Stephen in amazement. The Headmaster let Zahn go on the bed. Stephen gently picked Zahn up and let the cat sit contentedly on his chest while it purred away like mad and licked Stephen's hand in greeting. Stephen had his first smile since the massacre. "I can't believe I completely forgot about him," He mumbled, "thank you Professor."

"It's a pleasure, my boy. Anything to see a smile back on your face." It was then that a nagging suspicion appeared in Stephen's head.

"You wanted to speak to me Sir?" asked Stephen with his smile still in place.

"Yes. I would first ask if you would consent to tell me your version of last night's events. I would understand if you would need more time..." stated Dumbledore with the concern evident in his voice.

"No, I can talk about it. I would just like a small favor in return for me telling you this..." He was a Slytherin after all. Dumbledore did not answer but raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Can you call me Stephen from now on. Really. Mr. Moon has always sounded so...wrong...I don't like my surname much..." stated Stephen dryly.

Dumbledore gave a merry laugh and shook his head.

"Very well Stephen." And so, in no uncertain terms, Stephen told Dumbledore everything.

He considered for a moment whether or not to leave out the oath he had made over Anthony's body but then realized that Dumbledore would easily see the gap in the story.

"I never thought something like that would and could happen. I hardly gave any thought to it. I just...did it."

Dumbledore stared at Stephen shrewdly and it was very uncomfortable for a moment being under this particular gaze of the Headmaster. It felt very...exposing...and Stephen frowned in confusion. Stephen had not realized it would be so painful, talking about what happened, his feelings were numb again, and he felt nothing. But yet, it felt as if some huge burden was lifted after he told the story.

"I will tell you what I think happened Stephen, as long as you promise me you will not divulge this information to anyone, and I mean anyone. This is between you and me Stephen...Understand?"

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and muttered something incomprehensible to Stephen. A green mist flew out of it and blanketed over them and then disappeared.

"Yes. I understand Sir. And I promise not to reveal anything of what you are about to say." The Headmaster grinned wryly at him.

"A simple yes or no would have sufficed." Stephen felt his face flush in embarrassment.

"In swearing that oath Stephen, you stumbled upon a Light Magic so ancient that even I have only barely obscure references to it in my library. You swore upon the recently lost life of a loved one, even though he was not a blood relation, to take on a quest. The fact that the life of Anthony ended so violently and unjustly made your oath even more powerful. The elements you unwittingly used, Anthony's blood on your hands, mixed with your tears of sorrow, sadness and pain, combined with your intention to right a wrong, created a powerful charm that you placed on yourself." Dumbledore paused here to allow Stephen to take it all in. His eyes widened and he took a deep calming breath.

"What's the effect of this 'charm'?" was all Stephen managed to articulate.

"You swore an oath to perform a quest, but this is the key, it was a quest that you can never accomplish in your own lifetime. So you were given the strength to accomplish what you can," explained Dumbledore. But it immediately clicked in Stephen as to what his oath actually implied. The Headmaster nodded at his comprehension.

"You see. You swore to fight Voldemort and the evil he stirs and all those loyal to him. A person certainly can destroy Voldemort and punish those who were loyal to him, but the world will never be rid of evil, Stephen. Your task is never ending."

"I've also possibly cursed all my descendants with same thing." Stephen voiced. Dumbledore frowned.

"It is not a curse, only if you believe it to be a curse, will it be a curse, it is a blessing that you were given Stephen. It is highly likely that what you say is true, all your descendants may be given this power as well but they will also be bound to the same oath."

Silence fell between the pair as Stephen mulled over what had been said.

"Thank you Professor, for explaining to me," said Stephen in a daze as he stroked his cat absentmindedly. Dumbledore nodded and looked at the bed table and picked up his NEWT letter.

"I'll deliver this to Professor Snape for you. So I'll let you get back to practicing your magic," Dumbledore grinned at him, "oh another student is coming to Hogwarts for the summer as well, so you won't be alone for long."

"Who?"

"I can't say unfortunately, you will find out tomorrow though," grinned Dumbledore, "Have a good day, Stephen, I trust you will be at supper at the staff table?"

"Yes Sir." Dumbledore nodded and walked out, leaving a very thoughtful Stephen in his wake.

*

Stephen went to the Slytherin common room. He needed to clean up before supper at the staff table. Zahn was dutifully trotting alongside him as he levitated his trunk down to the dungeons and navigating the labyrinth of passages till he arrived at a familiar stretch of seemingly bare wall. He wondered how he was going to get in. Was the password of last term still active? If he couldn't get in the common room he would have to arrive at supper feeling all grungy.

"Vampire." Stephen muttered distastefully at the wall. Surprisingly enough...it worked. A heavy stone door appeared in the wall and slid open. He walked through cautiously whilst guiding his trunk. Stephen gazed at the familiar long room, with its rough stone walls and ceiling, the green lamps hanging on chains and the elaborately carved mantelpiece surrounding the fireplace. The meticulously carved chairs were all neatly placed back at their tables and the large emerald sofas looked immaculate. He was on his way to the boy's dorms staircase when suddenly a heavy billowing voice roared.

"Who dares disturb my common room during the summer?"

Stephen gasped in fright and whirled to the source of the deep voice, while his trunk thudded noisily to the ground and Zahn screeched in alarm.

He found himself confronted with the ancient portrait of Salazar Slytherin that was hanging above the mantelpiece. It was moving! It never moved, everyone had always assumed it was a still portrait. He frowned and headed uncertainly closer to the portrait of Salazar who was now eyeing him suspiciously.

"Umm...Er..." stammered Stephen. He was not sure of whether he should actually try to talk to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

"Lost your tongue boy? Answer my question." Salazar demanded. It was a middle-aged version of the Founding wizard, who had no long beard but instead had long brown hair pulled into a braid and a formidable face, wearing long out of fashion bright green robes.

"My name is Stephen Moon, Sir, I'm starting my sixth year in September," he replied meekly. Salazar leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes, I remember seeing you often here studying and practicing magic, more so than most of your housemates," Salazar mentioned sadly, "why are you here in the summer, young man?" It was difficult not to squirm under the portrait's penetrating gaze.

"I live in an muggle Orphanage during the summers Sir. But last night I was with some of my muggle friends when," Stephen choked with emotion, "Death Eaters attacked, both my friends were killed, as were numerous other muggles who were there. I managed to survive and when the Ministry showed up, the Headmaster thought it best I come back to Hogwarts."

Salazar's face twisted in anger.

"Well if the Headmaster said so, I suppose I'll allow it, since I am the guardian of this common room during the absence of the students," Salazar stared off into space, "it's happening all over again. That demented Heir of mine destroyed my house's reputation in the Seventies, now the prejudices and bigotry will only get worse."

"You mean Voldemort, Sir?" asked Stephen.

"Of course I mean him," Salazar glared at him, "how many Slytherins will fall this time to his idiotic misinterpretation of my once held beliefs, goodness only knows!"

"How has he misinterpreted them Sir?" asked Stephen, genuinely curious. No Slytherin student had ever talked this portrait and he was eager to get as much information from Salazar as possible. The Founder gazed at him shrewdly.

"Fine. I'll answer your question first by explaining about this portrait. After it was painted, Salazar himself animated me using his memories and personality. He left it here just as he separated from the other three Founders, knowing that someday, future Slytherins would need his help. He knew also that if any students were to be here during the summer, it would mean that things had gone badly for them, thereby the impetus in creating me and only allowing me to be active during the summer. Dumbledore comes in here often during the summers to relate outside events to me."

"Anyway, have you read Hogwarts: A History?" Stephen nodded.

"You grew up in a muggle orphanage, went to a muggle school initially?" Salazar asked distastefully. Stephen nodded again. "What do you know of what was happening in the muggle world when Hogwarts was founded?" Stephen frowned, trying to remember.

"Oh yes, it was during Medieval times, witch hunts, muggles were ruled by monarchies, all aligned with the Catholic Church," explained Stephen.

"Yes. The Church. Here lies the source of my problem with Muggle-Borns back then. Up until the age of eleven they were fed strict Catholic doctrine by their parents and the Church, making them believe they would go to hell for practicing magic. Oh yes, they came to Hogwarts nevertheless, Gryffindor made sure of that, but they were so frightened of their own abilities in classes that they could hardly perform anything correctly. Now compare them next to the pureblood wizarding students of the day, who were confident, not raised in mind-narrowing religious households. They seemed simply more powerful and they were, at the time, since belief is a form of power that is highly intertwined with magic. I taught Charms and the muggle-borns would frustrate me to no end, fumbling wands and crying out in alarm whenever they did magic. I had many an argument with Gryffindor and the others about this issue, eventually I drew an ultimatum in not selecting any muggle-borns to be in my house anymore. The rift between us grew and grew; muggle-borns were showing up all over, eventually I left. But I left something behind which I regret till this very day."

Salazar sighed and his gaze softened as he looked at Stephen, who could only sit there wide eyed, eyes gleaming at the information that was poring forth. The Founder chuckled softly at Stephen's glazed expression.

"With that thirst for knowledge young man, it's a wonder how you did not end up in Ravenclaw."

The casual remark left Stephen stunned for a moment.

"Knowledge is Power, Sir," replied Stephen and Salazar smirked.

"And that is why you are in my house. But I digress. I left behind a book in my office; you could call it a Diary, I wrote down my thoughts and feelings about the muggle-born issue at the time. I left Hogwarts quite suddenly though after an impassioned argument with the others, and did not tell them what to do with the Head of House position of Slytherin. All the subsequent Heads of Slytherin House were naturally purebloods, and they found my Diary and based the future ethos of the House on it, (they also took down this portrait thinking it not magical) and since it was my Dairy, they mistakenly believed that I hated Muggle-borns enough to even consider genocide. A few generations of this and a deep prejudice was entrenched amongst Slytherins against muggle-borns. I had unwittingly caused a racial boundary to be drawn amongst wizards." Salazar actually looked remorseful.

"Voldemort, bases his racial creed on that diary of mine, he most likely even a has a copy of it in his personal possession. He defiles my House by recruiting most of his Death Eaters from it. Combine those beliefs with that extremist personality of his and you get a very dangerous, dark and evil man. " Salazar's face was flushed in anger again.

"Sir, the house bigotry is quite high amongst the students, now. Gryffindors/Hufflepuffs and Slytherins are now like oil and water. Ravenclaws seem to be treading on both sides. Even the Sorting Hat has made comments about it during last year's sorting. It hardly sang anything about the houses, just kept on stressing the need for us to unite and that what it does is in essence wrong; sorting students into different camps. I can't help but agree with it," said Stephen. Salazar now got an alarmed look on his face.

"The Hat did that?" the Founder asked incredulously, "it never even did that during the Eleven Years of Terror," Salazar clenched his jaw, "it must be seeing the signs. Stephen...this war...the Second Voldemort War...it will be terrible, and I fear for the future of Hogwarts itself. Then it is also apparent that this war will change the wizarding world irrevocably."

Stephen glanced at his watch and saw he only had half an hour left before supper.

"Excuse me Sir. I need to clean up for supper, I really liked talking to you Sir."

Salazar was staring distractedly down into space, he seemed in deep thought.

"Yes, thanks. I haven't talked to anyone other than Headmaster Dumbledore, since I was made. And before that I was lying on my side in some storage cabinet, until Dumbledore found me." Stephen momentarily felt sorry for the portrait, and headed off to the showers.

Afterwards he dressed in muggle clothes and pulled over it a modern cut, pure-white wizards robe. He sheathed his wand in an arm holster and decided to haul his trunk from the common room to the sixth year dorms. He claimed the best positioned bed and dumped his trunk there, while Zahn had already made himself comfortable on it for a nap.

"Impressive." Salazar commented at him as he walked through the common room again, obviously referring to Stephen's state of dress.

"Thank you Sir. See you later."

It took Stephen another ten minutes to get back to the Entrance Hall. He walked into the Great Hall and noticed that Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the high table as well as Professor Flitwick, otherwise it was empty. The two Professors were ingrained in a deep discussion and their faces were serious. Their conversation halted as soon as Stephen approached the table and they both grinned at him.

Professor Flitwick clapped excitedly.

"Hello Mr. Moon. I was never in doubt about your OWL grade in Charms, Well done," crooned the diminutive Professor

"Well, I have a very good teacher." Stephen grinned mischievously, his dimples revealing themselves. Flitwick looked thoroughly complimented and pleased. Dumbledore gestured to his left.

"Please join us, Stephen." His eyes twinkled. Stephen sat down gracefully where Dumbledore indicated and started to immediately pile on the food from various serving bowls onto his plate and dug in ravenously.

"I trust you and Salazar had a nice conversation." Stephen had to fight from spitting out his food in alarm. He swallowed nervously. Dumbledore must have deduced he had talked to the portrait; in fact it was bleeding obvious.

"I wouldn't call it pleasant Sir. Very informative though." Stephen got back to his dinner.

After a while the silence from his two Professors were nagging at him. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see they were staring at him unflinchingly. Now he was really nervous, what was their story? Stephen decided to cut the suspicion with a joke. He glanced at his two Professors who were smiling at him.

"Am I wearing clothes Sir? I always have this nightmare of walking into the hall having totally forgotten to dress..."

Both Professors chuckled merrily.

"Yes Stephen, you do have clothes on," Dumbledore's moustache quivered, "as for our stares, don't let it bother you, just two old men reminiscing and longing for their youth."

"Oh..." Stephen did not really know what to say to that.

"This afternoon, Stephen, after our discussion I did some thinking," Dumbledore murmured and turned to face Stephen, "Alastor Moody is coming to Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer to spend some time training the student that will arrive tomorrow. I believe it will benefit you and us all in the long run if you will consent to undergo the training as well." Stephen raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Training as an Auror?" Dumbledore nodded, "I wouldn't miss it for anything Sir. Except maybe if I happen to fall in love with a decent girl," grinned Stephen slyly; "I would miss it for that..." Both Professors roared in laughter. But then...Stephen's extremely deductive mind went and reared its ugly yet handy head again. Who would be the one person, as a student who would need training of this sort already?

The answer was quite obvious and Stephen grimaced. He sincerely hoped this would not come out amongst the other Slytherins.

The conversation was polite small talk from then on, ranging from Quidditch league action, to the newest developments in Charms.

Stephen's stomach was heavy with food and he was now extremely drowsy. He rose from his chair.

"Thank you for the meal, Professors. I am really tired. Good Night." Stephen nodded to both teachers.

"Pleasant dreams Mr. Moon," Professor Flitwick stated.

"Thank you Professor Dumbledore for allowing me this training. I will confess, that it is my dream to become an Auror anyway after I leave Hogwarts," smirked Stephen.

"Don't mention it Stephen. I never discourage learning, especially to those who are eager." Dumbledore nodded. He started to walk away but stopped and addressed the two old wizards again.

"Training with a Gryffindor will be very interesting indeed." Stephen turned again and walked out back to his common room.

Dumbledore turned to Flitwick and smiled conspiratorially. Flitwick was quite stunned.

"How did he know, Albus?"

"That is something I only recently discovered about Stephen, Filius. He has a highly deductive mind and does let on how much he knows. As you know he seems a very reserved person (still waters runs deep, after all), but not someone to be pushed. You only know him from Charms class and grades his papers. Severus has often told me about him, gets a detention every now and then when his housemates irritates him or encroaches on his personal boundaries and he hexes them." Dumbledore smirked.

"I take it Severus never takes points for such things," muttered Flitwick dryly.

"No, he does not," admitted Dumbledore.

*

Stephen awoke with a start the next morning, he was bathed in a cold sweat and his soggy pajamas clung to his body. His breathing was heavy and labored; as if he had just run a mile at fast pace. It was the nightmare that had been plaguing him since he could remember, always the same, the black hooded figures arriving at his parent's house, they meet and then his parents become them as well. They head off into the night, never to return, all the while Stephen at his current age begs and pleads his parents not to go, but they do not listen. They all die in flashes of green and white.

Zahn responded to his master's wakefulness with a soft meow and leaped onto the bed to demand a rubbing, which Stephen was happy to provide, anything to get that bloody nightmare out of his head. He dressed in comfortable jeans, trainers and shirt, since he had no idea what kind of Auror training they were going to do.

Stephen went down to the common room, and found the portrait of Salazar Slytherin sleeping quite...loudly, he was snoring, and it was the most surrealistic experience he had ever encountered. A Hogwarts Founder, a person with legend and majesty behind him, was...snoring. Stephen could not stop from snorting in suppressed laughter.

Salazar was startled awake with a cough and huge yawn, only now the portrait saw the sniggering Stephen.

"Ah, Good Morning," Salazar frowned, "what's so funny?"

"Nothing Sir..." Stephen's eyes twinkled in merriment. It did not escape Salazar's notice however, who gave a resigned sigh.

"It was my snoring wasn't it?" the Founder asked wryly. Stephen could only nod.

"Well, Gryffindor used to tease me to death in front of Rowena and Helga about it, since he and I had the misfortune of being apprenticed to the same Master Wizard, and had to often share rooms in our youth." Stephen brought himself under control with some effort and remembered a question he had thought of just before going to bed.

"Sir, do you mind if I ask you about the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk in my second year?" Stephen asked, keeping his eyes to the ground, not wanting to seem disrespectful to the Founder.

"No need to be so meek, Stephen. Address me with your head raised and proud, you are nearing manhood, and should show it. I am but a portrait, not the real Salazar. Yes, the Chamber. Well, the Chamber was something I had put into the castle plans to house my pet. You are undoubtedly aware that I am a Parselmouth, and I wanted the King of Snakes as my pet, quite egotistical of me it was. I briefly mentioned of the Chamber's existence in my Diary...well...you can deduce what happened..."

"The subsequent Heads of Slytherin House turned it into a fantasy to inspire purebloods and scare muggle-borns. The other Founders heard of this and took it as fact, since they all had secrets from each other. Each were making their own refinements to the castle." Stephen surmised. Salazar smirked in satisfaction.

"Exactly, but once again, enter Voldemort. He had done extensive research into legends and the castle plans and deduced where the entrance must be, and tried to fulfill what he believed to be my noble work of eradicating muggle-borns." Salazar sneered in distaste.

"Sir, how can anything be so evil? I mean Voldemort and his Death Eaters are responsible for so much, broken families, murders, inciting discord and chaos. How can they live with themselves? Is it human to attack and kill muggles and others for pleasure and fun?" Stephen's voice rose as he spoke, the familiar anger starting to lick his heart.

"You ask the most difficult questions Stephen. Evil does not need to be grand and huge, it can be pretty plain even downright simplistic, and you do not need to be talented in the Dark Arts to be evil. Here is good concept to use...spell the word 'evil' backwards, what do you get?"

"'Evil'-'Live'" Stephen breathed in awe.

"The English language is quite poetic in this sense. Evil is the opposite of Live. Therefore anything in opposition to life is evil. Do you think that Death Eaters are strong Stephen? Do you think that Voldemort is strongest among our kind?" Salazar narrowed his eyes.

"Personally, I'd say they are powerful yes, but not strong. They all serve Voldemort out of fear, they resort to violence and subterfuge to achieve their aims, in this sense, they are weak. Voldemort would kill his own followers the instant they became a liability, or punish harshly for making a mistake. There is no honor among thieves. Voldemort would not risk his neck for his Death Eaters, he would demand that their necks go first." Salazar smirked at Stephen's explanation.

"Yes, excellent mind you have Stephen." The young wizard shrugged nonchalantly.

"I read a lot, especially things that no one else reads. Those things are usually the most important, because people ignore that which scares them, even the truth."

"Interesting opinion...interesting..." Salazar murmured in deep thought.

"Excuse me Sir. I am in need of breakfast." Stephen nodded at Salazar who gave a wistful sigh.

"Food...I so miss it..."

Stephen walked in the Great Hall and hesitated for a moment as he saw who was sitting at the High Table. Stephen sat in the seat next to Dumbledore's, who was not in the hall at the present. It was only him and Professor Snape, his Head of House, who was glancing curiously in his direction, while munching on eggs. Stephen had a respect for his Head of House but it suffered a huge blow with the Career Advice session last year. Stephen had to seriously clamp down on an irrational impulse to show Snape the finger and shout. "Suck on my OWL results, greasehead." But one had to show decency, even to those you do not like.

"Professor Snape." Stephen eyes met the Potions Master's with a challenging glint and nodded respectfully in greeting.

"Mr. Moon," murmured Snape. Stephen filled his plate with French toast and was about to pour some syrup on when Snape surprisingly started a conversation. He never went beyond House duties in addressing students.

"I am sorry to hear of your loss. You have my condolences." Stephen looked at Professor Snape who seemed to be his usual stoic self if you looked at him, but there seemed to be something radiating from the Professor. It could best be described as a...feeling...a felling of sorrow, regret, anger and self-recrimination all mixed into one. It was odd to Stephen; it was if he was sensing emotion or intent. Then suddenly it was as if a wall went up and the feeling was gone.

"Thank you Professor. I appreciate it." Stephen shook his head to clear it.

"I look forward to seeing you in my NEWT Potions class. It came as quite a surprise to see how you picked up that mark from the WEA examiner."

Actually it came as no surprise to Stephen. Since whenever they had potions, they had it with the Gryffindors, and then Snape would go into Seek-and-Destroy Mode. It was tailor made to distract the Gryffindors, especially Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. But that did not mean it could not distract the Slytherins. It was immensely irritating, brewing a potion with Snape on the prowl, looking for any excuse to jump down the throat of a student. Did it not occur to Snape that this only made the students more nervous, therefore more liable to make a mistake in their potions?

"I look forward to mastering the challenges you set forth, Professor." Stephen could not help a slightly mocking tone. It bounced off Snape like a bullet off a tank. They returned to their meals in silence, neither wanting to actually talk to the other. The doors to the Great hall opened just as Stephen was settling back to leisurely drink his orange juice. Professor Dumbledore entered first, wearing his usual over elaborate yet tasteful purple and pink wizard robes. Behind him Stephen could actually hear 'Mad-Eye' Moody before he could see him, the clanking of his wooden leg echoing through the hall was unique enough, the Auror was clad in flowing robes of light brown. The two wizards walked abreast shielding the third arrival from view.

Stephen scratched an itch behind his ear as Harry Potter came into view. The young wizard seemed as if he had just been run through the tumble dryer. He had dark circles under his eyes but he seemed lucid and awake, but his shoulders were slightly slumped. Stephen did not need to be a doctor to know what general lack of sleep looked like on a person. Stephen narrowed his eyes at Harry, focusing the same general way he had done with Snape, and started picking up the emotions coming from the famous young wizard, in addition to the general presences of Snape, Moody and Dumbledore, he could even tell that there was a ghost patrolling the corridor outside. In Harry though, there was happiness and relief, probably from being back at Hogwarts, but suddenly a tidal wave of guilt engulfed Stephen.

It knocked the breath out of his lungs and his throat felt constricted; the glass in his hand fell to the ground and shattered. With a hoarse gasp he tried to force air into his lungs, and was marginally successful, his hands were busy grasping the table in effort. It was then that Stephen felt a hand on his back, and a calm seemed to flow into him and his breathing slowly went back to normal.

"I would not recommend practicing Consiliamancy here Stephen, and especially not on Harry," whispered Dumbledore in his ear, "meet me for a moment in the anteroom." Stephen nodded and rose from his chair. Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion and curiosity at Stephen as the young raven-haired wizard sat down and started piling on breakfast.

Dumbledore and Stephen sat down in the anteroom gazing at the empty fireplace.

"Do you know what you just did Stephen?"

He thought for a while on this.

"I sensed emotions...as best as I can tell, I could also tell where you were in the room, without even looking." Dumbledore nodded.

"I think you just have discovered a new talent in yourself, Stephen. It's called Consiliamancy, the art of magically sensing intent and emotion. Very useful, since it allows you to sense beyond the confines of where you are, and beyond what the eyes can see, what the ears can hear." Stephen's eyes grew wide.

"Would it also allow me to see past magical trickery, like an Invisibility cloak, Polyjuice potion and the like?" he enquired seriously.

"Yes and no, it would depend on the skill of the wizard of course, and to what length he or she goes to in the deception. But in ninety nine percent of the cases, you would realize something was afoot." Dumbledore frowned in thought and stroked his beard.

"How will I train it?" Stephen asked.

"Oh, I will help you every Monday and Wednesday evening from seven to ten. It's the summer and my duties are very few at the moment. So I'll be helping you and Harry."

Stephen gave his thanks and walked with the Headmaster back to the staff table. He hesitated initially but then decided to plunge ahead. Stephen sat down in the empty chair next to Harry, who was still focused on his breakfast.

"Hello Harry Potter." Stephen offered his hand to his schoolmate. "My name is Stephen Moon." Harry glanced up from his plate and they stared at each other.

"Pleasure to meet you, Moon." Harry took the offered hand and they shook hands. Stephen grimaced the instant he heard his surname.

"Please don't use my surname to address me, I hate the sound of it, call me Stephen. Maybe I should get a Time-Turner and go bonk my ancestor over the head for being an astronomer when he adopted a surname for his family." Stephen grinned causing Harry to let out a very strained laugh. But Stephen did not need Consiliamancy to see what was plaguing Harry, the walking wounded recognizes each other easily. Stephen now stared ahead towards the doors of the Great Hall.

"Who did you lose?"

Harry stared in shock at Stephen. Obviously he wanted to know, how Stephen knew that he had lost someone close to him. It was easy to gauge from the emotions Stephen had sensed.

"Godfather," it was all that Harry answered and without emotion, "and you?"

"Two brothers." Simply saying those two words sent Stephen on a roller coaster of emotion. Tears started to roll down both his cheeks. He did not give a hammered shit for anybody witnessing this; he was not embarrassed to display this emotion in public. He took deep calming breaths and tried to relax.

Dumbledore and Moody stood from their seats and glanced at the two young wizards, and found the oddest sight they had ever seen. Both young men were staring fixedly ahead, tears pouring from their eyes, but otherwise they were solid in posture and still.

*

Both Stephen and Harry were standing outside in the grass courtyard of Hogwarts castle, where students usually milled about for the brief periods between lessons or spent any free periods they had, if they did not wish to return to their house common rooms. The sun was still young in the sky and the grass green at their feet.

Harry was quite surprised to learn he would have a training partner for his sessions with Moody. In fact he would later admit it was some relief to have someone else going through with the same things, since Harry did not fancy one-on-one time with the paranoid, horribly scarred Auror. In fact it was bad enough only with two in this very secret training. Harry admitted that not even his closest friends knew where he was and what he doing. It was in this conversation that Harry learned that Stephen did not have close friends per se, in Slytherin House; his only true friends were at the orphanage.

Moody surveyed them as a General inspecting his troops readiness.

"We are outside, gentlemen, and not in a classroom, because that is exactly where the things you will be facing are. They are in the real world, and that is the only classroom that you two will be in for the rest of this summer. It is there that you will learn what I have to teach you." Moody paused, his magical eye rolling into the back of his head. Stephen had to fight down an urge to grimace.

"In all the places, you will be going and learning under my guidance, you will be unnoticeable. Dumbledore and myself have selected these locations, for various reasons. But to tell you would ruin the surprise." Moody grinned evilly, making Stephen squirm uncomfortably.

"Firstly, I will tell you a little important fact about both your legal status's with the Ministry. You are both now officially of-age even though you still have a year to go. By the opinions of both your teachers and Dumbledore, the of-age rule with regards specifically to you both has become unnecessary red tape. You need training that will save your own lives and that of possibly countless others. Can you tell me what this means...Moon?" Moody glared at Stephen, who had to suddenly clear his throat from phlegm.

"It means we can learn apparition, we can do magic unsupervised, it also means we are legally emancipated and responsible for ourselves. Therefore should any harm come to us, we could not put blame on the school, or on you, and since I highly doubt the Ministry knows of this training..." Stephen shrugged, the rest was easy to deduce. They were now being treated as adults and would bear all the responsibility and privileges that went with it, and the pain.

"And right now, I want to settle something. Potter, do you have a problem with Moon? Will you let House prejudice cloud your judgment? Does the fact that he is in Slytherin bother you?" Harry was visibly squirming under the assault of questions.

"I have no problem with him, Sir. I don't know him well enough to form any sort of opinion, yet. The only Slytherin's I truly have a problem with are Malfoy and his cronies." This raised a snort of suppressed laughter from Stephen.

"Good, Potter. Because, know this, once you finish your seventh year and leave the walls of this castle. The fact that you were in this house or that, or if you were Prefect or not, matters nothing," he growled, "your NEWT results are the only thing that comes with you."

"Anyway. The first thing I am going to teach you two, is...Apparation. I never met an Auror who could not Apparate. And I'm not taking you two lads anywhere before you have it mastered."

"Sir, how long does it take?" Harry asked.

"Oh. If we work tooth and nail the whole day on it, starting now, I suppose, in four days," Moody stroked his chin contemplatively, "we will only be working practical here, no theory, that's what school is for." The Auror reached into his robes and withdrew a...squeaky rubber duck! Stephen had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting out in laughter; a quick glance at Harry showed that he was in no better shape.

"This Portkey will take us to where we want to go." Harry put a finger to the duck in Moody' gnarled hands, Stephen did the same with some amusement a moment later.

There was a sudden jerk in the world around them and all sight was lost in a swirl of color and light.

Stephen's feet hit the ground hard and he fought for balance. Around them as far as the eye could see was deserted grassland, slowly rolling to and fro in the breeze that was coming from the east. He could tell they were close to ocean as the air was very moist and had a salty hint to it.

"There is no one around for over fifty miles in all directions." Moody stated as he pointed his wand at a spot on the ground and suddenly a yellow disk appeared. He created four more and placed them in a square formation around the center disk, about five meters apart from one another.

"Ok, now tell me what you think Apparition is Harry?"

Harry frowned and thought for a moment. "Obviously, its when a wizard instantly transports himself from one point in space to another. As long as he knows about where his destination is or at least has been there before, he simply...wills himself to appear there."

Moody turned to Stephen. "The effect of Apparition is as Harry said. Will yourself from one place to another. There are as many theories about the mechanics behind Apparition as there are theorists. Some say our magic causes us to move through another reality or dimension for an instant and reappear where we want to. Others believe it has to do with our spirit reaching for a point in space, and thereby forcing our body to follow."

"Yes, good points both of you. Now, go and stand in any circle." Both young men spread out and chose their circles. "Stay there and memorize how you feel while standing there, how it looks around you, how it smells, how it feels to be there, in that specific circle. Take as long as you need. Don't daydream! Focus!" shouted Moody.

Ten minutes later Harry indicated he was done, five minutes after that Stephen did the same.

"Now. Move to another circle. Feel the differences between your new spot and the old one." Both young wizards did as they were told. Ten minutes later Moody shouted.

"Wish yourself to your old spot, feel how it felt at the old spot, don't concentrate just do it!"

The old Auror was instantly rewarded when both Stephen and Harry disappeared but reappeared standing where they were.

"Almost there!" Moody considered whether he should use the fastest training technique possible. "Close your eyes and try again!" he ordered this time.

Both young men closed their eyes and went through the same process. The next thing though that registered in their bored minds was an earth shattering high-pitched explosion and Moody screaming: "We're under attack!" The crackling of magic was in the air and vibrant light flew everywhere.

Pop. Pop

Harry and Stephen found themselves exactly where they were in the beginning and both were amazed. They were scared out of their wits and had just reacted, the result being their first successful Apparition. This breakthrough broke the mental block in their minds and by the end of the day; both could Apparate easily wherever they could see on the vast grassland. The Sun was low on the horizon when the three took the Portkey back to the Hogwarts courtyard.

"Well done lads. Learning to Apparate is tiring business; make sure you have a good meal and lots of rest. Tomorrow we work on increasing distance to beyond what you just can see. Good night lads," greeted Moody.

Stephen could not keep an exhilarated smile off his face as he walked into the Great Hall. Harry was just ahead of him and also showed a genuine giddiness to what they had accomplished. Dumbledore who was having his supper grinned at the two young students expressions.

"Everything went well I assume?" the Headmaster chuckled.

"Oh, It was the greatest fun Professor," replied Harry.

"I second that," Stephen replied earnestly as he heaped food on his plate, "but very draining. I feel like I could eat a five-course meal and not have it fill me in the least."

"Yes, Apparition I find is very taxing to learn, but once you get it mastered, everything will become easier and less draining. Think of it as exercising your muscles," Dumbledore stated. The conversation was light from then on as Harry and Stephen had only minds on one thing...food.

"I believe we shall cancel your lessons with me until Thursday. As I can see you both are a slither away from deep sleep." Dumbledore's moustache quivered.

Both students said their goodnights. Stephen did not even bother to undress totally, he just climbed under the covers of his bed and fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

*

It took a further three days, just as Moody had predicted, for Stephen and Harry to master Apparition. It was exhausting work but very rewarding. To Stephen it felt absolutely liberating, to think that he no longer needed a car, train, or broomstick to get from point A to point B. Of course Apparition was impossible on the Hogwarts grounds, due to the protective anti-apparition sphere that surrounded the school. The closest point from which a person could Apparate was the Hogsmeade Train platform, which was still a decent length walk, but could be reached by broomstick in under a minute.

Dumbledore had also started Stephen's Consiliamancy lessons that Wednesday, when Stephen insisted he felt strong enough after the day's apparition training. Twenty minutes in he was starting to wish he had jumped in bed instead. It was incredibly difficult.

They were in a large empty classroom and Dumbledore had blindfolded Stephen, then proceeded to spin him around in circles till he had lost all bearing of where was what.

"We are not training your other five senses Stephen, we are training your...magical sense. You need to learn to rely on it," explained Dumbledore before Stephen could raise any objection. To practice Consiliamancy a person had to maintain a defocused state of mind, soul and heart. A person had to be totally open and receptive to anything. In this case however, Stephen had to be receptive with his magic.

By the end of the two-hour session, Stephen could reproduce the same effect as what happened in the Great Hall, at will. No matter how much Dumbledore repositioned himself or no matter how much Stephen was disorientated, he could always find the old wizard. There was an embarrassing moment however when Stephen focused his mind solely on the powerful magical essence of Dumbledore. It happened almost involuntarily.

Stephen had wondered how the Headmaster retained such a youthful energy at such an advanced age. This caused his mind to unwittingly probe the Headmaster.

It did not matter much, because Dumbledore's mind seemed as if shrouded in a huge elastic cloak, totally impossible to penetrate. This also meant that the Headmaster did sense the attempt.

"Now, now, Stephen, such curiosity about my age?" the amusement in Dumbledore's voice was extreme.

"Aargghh, Shit," the young wizard ripped his blindfold off and closed his magical senses, "sorry Professor, my mind ran away with me in ten directions," replied Stephen sheepishly.

"Be careful with that Stephen. You must be in control," admonished Dumbledore, "but don't worry, that is what we will be working on next lesson."

Stephen and Harry were looking forward to a nice break on Friday, they were sorely disappointed, and Moody was waiting in the Great Hall for them.

"Do you think a Death Eater would wait till you are all trained up before he picks on you?" the Old Auror asked sarcastically.

Both young wizards grumpily ate their breakfast, while Dumbledore smirked in amusement. This only incensed both of them further. After breakfast the two apprentices met Moody at the courtyard once again, where the customary rubber duck portkey was held out. It was not remotely funny anymore.

They appeared in a huge circular room, with a domed ceiling about three floors up and the walls looked ancient and gothic. The only lighting was coming from a skylight above and the torches mounted on the sidewalls. The floor was covered in a tiled mosaic, which formed a picture of a simplified phoenix. On second glance as soon as Stephen's eyes got used to the light, it looked like the walls all around were lined with shelves containing books and books and even more books.

"Is this place what I think it is?" asked Harry, his voice echoing in the vast chamber.

"Yip, did you really think that Dumbledore was the one who came up with the idea for the Order of the Phoenix?" the Auror sniffed from the dust, "he reinstated it in the Forties and still leads it, oh yes, but the Order truly first came together centuries ago. Whenever there has been a huge dark uprising, the Order was there."

"So, it's a counterpoint to the Death Eaters, in this case. As they operate in secret and subterfuge, so does the Order," surmised Stephen.

"Yes," Answered Moody as he hung up his cloak, "here we will train you both up on dueling, the Auror, Hit-Wizard and the Order way. In other words there is no holds barred in what you learn here. I am going to teach you first, the basics of dueling."

Moody gestured with his wand and three rings of light surrounded Stephen on the floor, thereby forming concentric circles around him.

"Harry, the outermost circle, what do you think it represents?" asked Moody.

"Umm...offensive spells..." answered Harry hesitantly.

"Yes. Well done. Why do you say that?"

"Because all the curses and hexes I know finishes with wand far away from the body." Harry answered more comfortably, glancing at Stephen, who only nodded in agreement.

"Then it's logical to surmise the inner ring is what? Stephen?" growled Moody, his magical eye doing a somersault in its socket.

"Defensive spells," answered Stephen shortly.

"Yes, and the third circle?" Stephen looked down and could only see two circles, then...

"Self-effecting spells. If a wizard was to cause an explosion or fire, you place a flame-freezing charm to protect yourself." Moody waved his wand and the three rings disappeared. He stood for a moment, as if contemplating.

"OK, always categorize the curses and spells you have in this way. Now, first of all I am going to teach you three curses. The Unforgivables," He said eyeing the two apprentices carefully, "you both did not flinch or object to the idea. Why not?"

Harry answered first without hesitation.

"In dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange I tried to use the Cruciatus on her. I was angry for revenge and had immense hate towards her, I still do. My spell knocked her off her feet and hurt her badly, but only for two seconds. Apparently, justified intent of causing pain weakens the effect. I do not want the spell to work wrongly...next time." Harry snarled.

So the escaped Lestrange killed Harry's Godfather. Stephen thought

"Both my brothers were killed by Death Eaters. To quote a muggle phrase: 'does a person go to war without a rifle?" Stephen's eyes became two narrow slits, anger and determination flowing from them.

Moody sighed and stared off into space.

"Fine. First comes the Imperius Curse. From what I hear, Harry is totally immune to it. I don't know how you, Stephen will react." And without warning, Moody cast the Imperius curse on Stephen.

All logical thought was gone, the bliss of non-thinking, the state of the soul. Suddenly a voice instructed.

"Attack Harry." Stephen turned to Harry and was steadily advancing on the other apprentice who already had his wand out and pointing it at Stephen.

Suddenly, in Stephen's subconscious, a small detail registered about the Imperius curse. It felt exactly like a meditation trance, that his sensei showed him how to do, except that his mind was not in charge. Someone else was. So instead of willing to resist the curse, Stephen did the exact opposite and threw his own impulses to go along with the instructions and redirected the energies; a concept prevalent in many martial arts. To say the effect was surprising would be an understatement.

All thought returned in an instant to Stephen, but the curse was not lifted, instead he had thrown it back at Moody. Stephen turned back to Moody and told him to sit down on the floor. But the old wizard was not an Auror for nothing; he resisted all attempts at instruction from Stephen and was standing stock-still. Moody seemed totally immobile however.

"Finite." Stephen jabbed his wand at the Auror, who blinked and frowned at the young Slytherin.

"What happened?" asked Harry excitedly.

"Well, this young lad did something I never thought I'd live to see. He deflected the curse all right, but right back at me. For a while the curse was on me," the Auror frowned speculatively at Stephen, "see the Headmaster afterwards, tell him everything you can remember on how you did it, perhaps it could lead to more people being able to resist it."

"Yes Sir. I'll try."

For the rest of the day, Stephen and Harry practiced the Imperious on chipmunks and had them perform all sorts of funny antics like boxing matches, gymnastics, and chipmunk races. Then under Moody's supervision they performed it on each other. It was rather hilarious to watch. Harry would cast Imperius, Stephen would throw it back after a moment, only for Harry to throw the curse off completely. Then Stephen would cast Imperius and have an interesting debate with Harry's extremely strong will to get him to co-operate, only till he threw it off. The day ended with Moody happy with their proficiency.

Saturday, they moved onto the Cruciatus Curse. Ouch! The key was to develop a total unnecessary want to cause as much pain as possible on the person or thing you are casting at, and to mean it, the fact that Harry and Stephen had been developing a good if tentative friendship was standing in the way of them properly cursing each other.

"Harry, I want us to agree now. Whatever we have to think to get this right...I won't hold it against you," Stephen stated, they both shook hands.

"Neither will I," Harry nodded.

They stood about five meters apart, the domed room became as still as a cemetery.

Stephen imagined Harry as the Death Eater that killed Hugh. He ran this over and over in his mind, all his memories of the Manchester Massacre coming to the fore. Every inch of will was directed into this, this was the pain he wanted each and every Death Eater to feel; the pain of all their innocent victims. Stephen jabbed his wand at HarryDeath Eater and bellowed in a terrible harsh voice.

"Crucio." He meant every knife of pain that was now lashing into the Death Eater. Harry's screams of agony resounded through the chamber. Holding for a count of three, Stephen lifted the curse and Harry slumped to the floor on his knees.

Five minutes later, both Stephen and Moody helped Harry on his feet.

"Your turn." Stephen grinned.

Two minutes later, Stephen got his own taste of Harry's first successful Cruciatus curse. It felt like someone had him on the furthest stretches of torture rack, where one more turn would cause all his limbs to snap off. It was agony, as he had never felt it before. He could not draw breath. Thick needles were piercing every inch of his skin.

Just as sudden the curse was lifted and Stephen fell forward and was lying on the ground whimpering, his every movement felt torturous. After a minute he was pulled into a chair and his breathing was coming in heavy gasps.

They all had their lunches after that and turned to practice the curse on a jar full of spiders.

Sunday, they turned to the most final of all curses, the Killing Curse. And like the Cruciatus, you had to mean it. You must want to kill the person you were aiming at with full intent, and you had to throw all the power you had behind it. They used another jar of spiders for this purpose. But this was the trickiest of the Unforgiveables. It took both apprentices all morning and most of the afternoon till they killed their first spider. They got the hang of it though after that and soon a heap of lifeless spiders were lying about on the floor.

"Wish I could say 'well done' to you two, but I can't. There is nothing about the Unforgiveables that should be encouraged. Never use them light-heartedly or for fun. Here is another rule that Order members have: the instant an Unforgiveable is cast by the opposing side, then you only throw back the same. UNDERSTAND?" bellowed Moody.

"Yes Sir!" both shouted back.

"Now get your brooms and Apparate out of my sight," grumbled Moody.

Stephen grabbed his Nimbus 2002 broom in his left hand, with his wand ready in his right and closed his eyes. His entire body tingled with magic. He opened his eyes and found himself on the Hogsmeade train platform, Harry right next to him. Stephen mounted his broom and sped off into the air, towards Hogwarts castle. They both landed in front of the main doors. It was then that Stephen caught Harry glancing at him strangely.

"What? Do I have something on my back?" he asked, trying to lighten the dull mood that settled over both of them.

"The way you fly...how come I haven't faced you on the pitch? You could make good chaser," asked Harry. Stephen sighed.

"I wanted to try in second year. Then Malfoy," Stephen spat the name out, as if it was fouling his mouth to say it, "buys his way on the team with all those brooms. I already dismissed the idea of him as a friend the end of first year. I did not want to be on any team with him. He constantly sneered about my muggle-raised status. Didn't stop till I sent his ass to the hospital wing with a broken arm and nose in second year."

"What about Crabbe and Goyle? How did you handle them?" frowned Harry disbelievingly. Stephen smirked humorlessly.

"That took some doing. Learning to perform a Disillusionment charm, took me almost two months back then and a lot of library work. Then I could wait in the common room without him noticing me. It happened during the holidays finally. I remember Crabbe was complaining about a stomach ache and they were chatting about the...umm...oh yes...who the Heir of Slytherin was, then they suddenly ran out." It totally surprised Stephen that Harry suddenly burst into laughter as they were walking into the Great Hall.

It took the young wizard a long time to recover by which time they were seated at the table ready to start eating.

"Say, thank you," commanded Harry good-naturedly.

"Why?" asked Stephen, incredulously.

"Me and my friends, Ron and Hermione wanted to find out if Malfoy knew who the Heir of Slytherin is. So we made a plan. We get Malfoy to tell us. We put Sleeping Draught in some cupcakes and made sure Crabbe and Goyle could find it while they were on one their eating binges. We each took a piece of their hair to use in Polyjuice potion we had prepared a month in advance." Harry smirked.

"So you and Ron took Crabbe and Goyle's appearances and managed to find your way into the Slytherin common. Interrogate Malfoy. You probably left in hurry because the potion had worn off, since it takes a while to get to the dungeons," surmised Stephen, only for him to burst into fits of laughter. He turned to Harry and shook hands.

"Thank you." He said earnestly before dissolving into laughter again.

*

It was three days of constant dueling practice in the Phoenix chamber after that. The spells that both Stephen and Harry were learning though were literally being pulled out of obscurity in the shelves of Phoenix Chamber. Some of the spells weren't even denoted in Latin, but Ancient Upper Kingdom Egyptian, Sanskrit and even Mandarin, Japanese and Arabic. Even for an Ancient Runes student this was extremely difficult. Stephen wondered how Harry must have been feeling; he had never opened a Runic dictionary in his life.

Moody wanted them to memorize and be able to perform fifteen obscure spells in each dueling category.

Late Wednesday afternoon when both apprentices returned from the Phoenix Chamber, Stephen asked Harry to have a private chat. It had been running through Stephen's mind on whether or not he wanted to share this information, but he figured that someone like Harry could make great use of it.

Harry guided him to a place in Hogwarts, known as the Room of Requirement. Stephen found the idea quaint, rooms that changed and equipped itself to suit whatever your needs were as you walked past it.

Harry pulled open the door and it revealed a Room that seemed solely equipped to teach the defense against Dark Arts. It was then that Harry explained the events and reasoning behind the forming of Dumbledore's Army or DA.

"Yeah, I spent all my Defense classes with Umbridge, with my own spell books Transfigured to look like that Defense theory trash she had us doing. I read through that Defense theories book in a night, never had such a good laugh in my life." Stephen chuckled.

"So what did you want to show me?" asked Harry.

Stephen pulled out a matchbox-sized book and enlarged it with a wave of his wand and handed it over to Harry.

" 'Lost Magic of the Elements of Nature' by Nicolas Flamel. But I thought he was an Alchemist?"

"He is an alchemist primarily. It's what he is most known for. But Flamel is over six hundred and fifty years old. In his younger years though he wrote this book, about a magic that's use had fell out of favor over a hundred years earlier, because dark wizards at the time used Elemental Magic for very destructive purposes. That magic knowledge was as a result purged from all libraries, but Flamel was not an academic for nothing." Stephen explained and tapped the book with a finger.

"This book explains how to do Elemental magic; fire, wind, water and earth. Want to try?"

Harry frowned in thought for a moment. "Why not?" he shrugged.

*

It was a Friday morning; Moody and the two budding-unofficial-Auror's were walking into the courtyard to take the portkey to the Phoenix chamber for the what would have been the last time. Moody had barely reached into his robes for the rubber duck when Dumbledore came striding with alarming speed towards them. The Headmaster had a grave expression on his face and doubt was also etched across it.

"I'm afraid today will have to be cancelled. There is a...situation. Please follow." Dumbledore spoke in a clear and final commanding voice that left Stephen in awe for a moment. The three of them struggled to keep up with the supposedly 'old' Headmaster. It became clear they were heading to the Head Office and soon enough they were traveling up the spiral staircase past the gargoyle.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk and summoned a stand with a map of all five continents next to him with a flick of finger.

"I shall get to the point. I need you three to do a personal favor for me. I have just received a letter from Lord Henshingly Croft, a dear old friend of mine."

Moody scoffed. "What does that Illuminatus want with you now Albus?"

"What's the Illuminatus?" whispered Harry into Stephen's ear.

"Think of them as the true controllers of the Muggle world, democratic government are just their fronts; extremely powerful and secret society. We know they exist but there is no proof they exist though, " Stephen whispered back.

"He is concerned about the recent deaths of three prominent archeologists, the last one happened yesterday. Their deaths bear the hallmark of wizard involvement. In each case, all their research was also taken," answered Dumbledore.

"What were they researching Sir?" asked Harry.

"Lord Croft cannot mention that but I have a fair idea of what it is," Dumbledore stared speculatively up at the ceiling, "all of them were researching legendary dark and light artifacts, most specifically dark alchemic objects of the late thirteen hundreds and it appears they had some success."

"Doesn't the wizarding world have such information already?" asked Stephen.

"No, not anymore, the alchemy we are talking about here would even predate Mr. Flamel by about two hundred years. The Dark Arts purge of the era wiped out everything readily available," explained Dumbledore.

"What else does he want?" growled Moody.

"Isn't it obvious Alastor? He wants us to find, those from our side who is responsible and stop them. But to do that I fear we will have to win the war. Death Eaters are obviously responsible. But there is something that he has personally requested of me. He has discovered and is certain that someone close to him will be targeted next, as she is doing similar research and exploration, no doubt to snatch the discovery before the others."

"So we have to baby-sit the archeologist chick?" smirked Stephen.

"No. You will stay unseen and observe and only if she is in trouble, then you protect her," commanded Dumbledore earnestly, "it will undoubtedly happen sooner or later. But the archeologists were murdered in two day intervals, which leaves you three frightful little time."

"In other words, Lord Croft has no idea as to her exact location. Otherwise we could simply Apparate by coordinates to where she is," surmised Moody.

Dumbledore nodded and gestured with his wand to a point on North Africa, just below the Straight of Gibraltar. Morocco.

"The only idea he has as to her whereabouts is a town at the base of the Atlas mountains, Beni-Mellal, in the northern regions of Morocco." Dumbledore tapped his wand on the map and it zoomed into displaying northern Morocco in much more detail.

"How did her search for 'European' alchemic object land her in Africa?" asked Harry.

"Gibraltar is known as the gateway to Europe and vice versa. Back in those days sea travel was very perilous, no compass was invented yet and no lighthouses. So they sailed across the Straight. Shortest distance between the two continents," Stephen answered with a frown, his eyes closed in deep thought, "Could be the dark wizards of the 1300s had fled there because of the purges, it's also before we actively started hiding ourselves. The local populace would have been terrified of them. African wizards had no organized government back then, so the dark alchemists would be safe from persecution there."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Valid conclusions Stephen. But how does that find us Miss Croft?" asked the Headmaster.

"We obviously Apparate to Beni-Mellal, and use it as a base for our search." Moody threw in his ten pennies worth.

"We find where the dark alchemists lived, we find Miss Croft. Do the Death Eaters know where she is?" asked Harry.

"Professor Snape has heard nothing of this. It seems Voldemort as before is the only one in the know of what all of his followers are doing. Based from our point of view, I think it certain that a small group of Death Eaters is right now searching for Miss Croft." Dumbledore thoughtfully combed his long white beard with his fingers. There was stark silence in the room and everyone seemed to be deeply mulled in their own thoughts.

"The mountains," Stephen said suddenly, "I mean what better place to live a hermit existence especially for wizard. There is more than enough water, wildlife and all sorts of plants up there. And no people, since he or she could Apparate to areas which were totally inaccessible to muggles of the day."

"I thought North-Africa was all desert?" asked Harry.

"Well, south of the Atlas Mountains, yes, that's true, but north of the mountain range itself, it rains, the ground is very fertile. In the range it even snows," replied Stephen.

"Yes. Makes sense," mumbled Moody, "we'll need supplies for two weeks, tent, broomsticks, Invisibility cloaks, and definitely those chameleon robes and cloaks."

"I have already worked out your apparition coordinates." Dumbledore placed three scraps of parchment on his desk and Stephen picked the closest parchment up and glanced at the coordinates.

32.5°N 3.6°E 15min 8 seconds (AN: I'm not a geographer. Not sure about the minutes and seconds part)

"Stephen, Harry, go and get any personal effects you wish to bring with, nothing more that can fit in a small backpack."

Both students nodded and ran out of the office to their respective dormitories. They returned half an hour later. Stephen had small backpack, while Harry had a slingbag.

Stephen had packed any spellbook he could think of as useful, he obviously shrunk them down first, toothbrush, toothpaste, hair shampoo and a comb would not matter with his short hair and of course his broomstick. He also shrunk and packed in a couple of other useful things, which hopefully would never be needed.

"Ah, here you both are again. Everything for the trip is in there," Dumbledore gestured to a large blue hiking backpack, "if you would also don these chameleon clothes, they will change color and material to best suit the environment you are in."

"The benefits of magic," quipped Stephen as all three headed to a side room to change into the clothes.

"Let me take your bag Stephen," commanded Moody, "you can take the backpack. It will be difficult enough for me to walk anyway, I can't have a backpack to weigh me down as well."

Stephen sighed, dropped his bag to Moody and picked up one very heavy backpack that he had to heave merely to pick up. He tightened the shoulder straps and clicked the waistband together and tightened it as well.

"Pennapondus." Suddenly the weight of the backpack was almost gone, just enough was there so Stephen could not forget he had the damn thing on.

"Thanks Harry," murmured Stephen.

"Please gentlemen, be careful and hurry, there is no telling whether they will have already found her," instructed Dumbledore gently.

Dumbledore and the three walked the stairs to the upper observatory and with a wave of a wand the large window through which the elaborate telescope was pointing opened allowing access to the airspace outside.

"Hurry."

Harry mounted his Firebolt and shot out of the window as a blur, followed closely by Stephen and Moody. They flew in a close V-formation towards the train platform. Dumbledore watched them go warily, not sure if making this real assignment part of the two boys' training was wise. It by rights should have been handled by the Order, but they had no one to spare, there was too much going on at the home front to justify pulling anyone off an assignment to do something as menial as save a young woman, from a grisly fate half a world away.

Dumbledore's sharp eyes saw the three distant figures of Harry, Stephen and Moody, shimmer and disappear. Well, it was too late now.