The Final Reckoning

Chapter Twenty-Five: Letters and Meetings

12 December 1978

Dear James,

I got your letter. If you are a sap for writing me more than once a day, I suppose I am sap for reading your letters a dozen times already.

I'm glad to hear that Auror training continues to be manageable. Mad-Eye filled me in on some of the details of the training--in rather more vivid detail than I would have liked--and I only hope you're being careful. Is it wrong for me to be glad that the other Marauders aren't there to inspire you to get into trouble?

Work for me is...work. I wish I had the freedom to tell you about it but I can't. Well, I could but then I would have to kill you. The best I can say is that we are making progress in our research, and that we've narrowed down our prospects.

In lighter news my mother is taking me to pick up my wedding dress at the weekend. This whole wedding planning business is madness, I tell you. Be glad you're the man in this relationship. I don't mind some of the attention but if I have to talk to one more maiden aunt of mine about flowers or place settings or buttercream versus fondant, I'm going to scream. And to answer your question from your first letter of the 9^th, yes, we do have to invite Vernon and Petunia. I know, it's horrible, but given that Petunia would rather let a herd of muddy pigs into her house than have anything to do with me, it is a safe bet she and her fat troll of a husband won't be gracing the festivities with their presence.

I miss you, and yes, I am being safe. I suppose you will ask me this in every letter you write and I will tell you so in every letter I write. I hate that we have to be careful now, though. I hate the way people walk so fast and look over their shoulders. I suppose I work so hard because I just want this to be over; and working takes my mind off the fact that you're not here with me. I tell myself it's only another two weeks until we get to see each other, but it still seems far away. You do plan on kicking Sirius out of your flat when you get home, though, I presume. And if not, you had better, because the things we are going to do should not be observed by an audience.

I love you,

Lily

P.S. Give Frank and Alice my love.

Harry read the letter again. He'd finally found some time this week to pore through his parents' correspondence, but so far the letters had told him very little, but that his parents clearly loved one another, were planning a wedding, didn't like Petunia and Vernon, and were very fond of the Longbottoms.

On this last point, Harry felt a familiar pang in his chest. Frank and Alice Longbottom had trained with James Potter; the Longbottoms had become Aurors. What had they been like, before that horrible night when the Lestranges and Barty Crouch, Jr. had tortured them? Had James finished his training? Harry didn't know--he hadn't gotten that far in the stack of letters. And it was a huge stack; his parents wrote each other constantly. But for all the communications, the letters were frustratingly mundane.

Lily made frequent, veiled references to her work, but they were so vague as to be incomprehensible. Harry still didn't know what it was his mother actually did. He knew she'd been in the Order, of course, but was there something else?

And once again Harry's thoughts were dragged back to those codes. He knew Hermione had been working on them; in fact, she'd been working so hard in general that he was starting to get a bit worried for her. She was burning the candle at both ends, with her studies and her research and her Head Girl duties. It was a testament to her toughness and character that she wasn't cracking up the way she had in third year, but the tiredness in her eyes, the pale colour of her skin were still worrying to Harry, and Ron had spent the better part of the week reminding Hermione to eat.

Despite this, Harry couldn't help but feel impatient for Hermione to crack those codes already. It was unfair of him, he knew, but after reading through more than a dozen of his parents' letters and learning nothing of importance, his frustration was near the breaking point.

It didn't help that he hadn't learned a thing about Voldemort's plans. He'd tried Legilimency every night that week, and it was all for naught; Harry reached out with his mind and collided with a blank wall. Either Voldemort was blocking him completely or Harry was doing something wrong, and he suspected it was the latter. In the past, he had always been able to make contact for at least a few seconds; Voldemort had never been able to keep him locked out completely. But now...

Harry groaned and dragged himself out of bed. It was Saturday, the morning after Hermione's birthday party, and a fine day outside, at least. Harry took a quick shower, shaved sloppily, dressed, and headed down to the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione were not at breakfast, which surprised none of the older Gryffindors. Hermione had consumed a fair share of punch at her party and Harry guessed that--not being one to imbibe alcohol--she was probably holed up either in her room or Ron's, puking or lying in bed with a crushing headache. Ron, it appeared, was acting as her caretaker.

Harry ate breakfast with Ginny, Colin Creevey and a few other Gryffindors, all of whom joked about Hermione's drunkenness from the night before. Harry noticed that Ginny was none the worse for wear for having had a glass and a half of punch the night before.

'Unlike Hermione I know when to say when,' she muttered, grinning.

The joking stopped the moment Seamus joined them; he still looked highly disgruntled at having received a detention.

'Hey,' he said, nodding at Harry, as he and Dean Thomas sat down. 'Well, the Head Couple's not here.'

'Ron's taking care of her,' said Dean, smirking.

'I'll bet he is,' Seamus grumbled. 'Like he really cares about the first years. The only reason he got so shirty was because she got drunk.'

'And if Hermione hadn't gotten drunk,' Ginny pointed out, 'and found out you spiked the punch, you would have lost fifty points, she would have told McGonagall, and you would have served a week's worth of detentions.'

'Good point,' said Seamus.

After breakfast, Harry returned to the common room. It was quiet this morning; it was already well into the morning and most of the students had taken to the outdoors for what was likely the last truly pleasant weekend of the year. Harry headed upstairs to fetch his books; perhaps he could go down to the lake with Ginny and get in some studying.

He headed into the dormitory and found Neville there. He was stacking some books on his desk, only he seemed so nervous that he kept dropping the heavy tomes onto the stone floor.

'Neville, you okay?' Harry asked.

'Merlin!' Neville gasped, and he leapt back. 'You gave me a start.'

'Sorry,' said Harry, holding up his hands. 'What's up? Why are you so jumpy?'

'It's Hopkirk,' said Neville fretfully. 'I've got a meeting with her this morning to go over the curriculum for the D.A. meetings.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and he considered something. 'Do you...want me to go with you? I'm sure I could help out. I don't have Quidditch practice until half past two.'

'Thanks,' said Neville, 'but Hopkirk told me specifically to come alone. Said Dumbledore wants me to jump right into it.'

Harry nodded, but he felt uneasy, and the grimace on Neville's face didn't help. Harry didn't blame him for being nervous; it was bad enough being in the same room with Professor Hopkirk during a Defence lesson. It could only be worse sharing a room with her all by oneself.

'Well,' said Harry, 'I, er, I've got a few notes from last year, if you want. Bill--Professor Weasley--asked me to put some together. I've got them in my trunk, if you want them.'

'Yeah,' said Neville gratefully. 'That would be really helpful. I was supposed to come all prepared with ideas but my schedule's been too busy--'

He broke off and flushed, looking as though he'd said something he hadn't meant to.

'You and Luna?' Harry prodded gently, smiling.

'No!' said Neville at once, blushing. 'Well, okay, yeah, but that's not all. I...I don't know if I should say...'

'Okay,' said Harry, shrugging, but then Neville went on anyway; clearly, he felt the need to unburden his soul.

'I'm working on a project,' he said.

'What sort of project?' Harry asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

'It's a secret,' said Neville. 'But...well, it's in the early stages but I'm running some tests and it's going well so far.'

'Tests for what?' Harry asked.

'A memory retrieving potion,' said Neville, in a low voice.

Harry's eyes widened. 'You're...you're working with Snape on this?'

'No!' said Neville, looking horrified. 'No, with Sprout. Snape, are you kidding? But Sprout's helping me get certain ingredients, see.'

Harry watched Neville for a moment.

'Neville,' he said slowly, 'is this...to do with your parents?'

Neville looked up sharply for a moment, and then nodded. 'I don't know if it'll make a difference. They've been like that for...for a long time. It might be too late.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry at once. 'I shouldn't have--'

'It's okay,' said Neville. 'I'm pretty used to it by now. I have a top-notch collection of gum wrappers and scraps of paper but...anyway. I figure even if it can't help my mum and dad it can help other people, right? What with...what with this war going on, there's bound to be people...getting hurt with that curse. And I figure it might help me down the road, when I apply for medi-wizard training.'

'I didn't know you were interested in that,' said Harry, impressed.

'Yeah, well, I probably won't get it,' he said, shrugging. 'You need really good Potions marks and Merlin knows mine stink. But...I thought I'd give it a whirl, anyway.'

There was an awkward silence.

'I should go,' said Neville. 'Do you have those notes?'

'Right,' said Harry, and he quickly opened his trunk and rifled through it, finding an old stack of parchment; he flipped through the many pages and found what he was looking for.

'Here,' he said, handing the pages to Neville. 'Good luck. Don't let Hopkirk weird you out.'

'Too late for that,' said Neville, grinning. 'Listen, Harry, don't tell anyone about--'

'I won't,' said Harry.

'Thanks,' he said.

'You, too,' said Harry.

'For what?' Neville asked.

Harry pointed to his scar. 'You know.'

'Right,' said Neville. 'Well, have a good practice.'

And with that, Neville left the dormitory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry headed down to the Quidditch pitch at two o'clock. When he got there Ginny, Parvati and Lizzie were already there and changed; Harry greeted them briefly, noticing the bright smile Parvati gave him, and headed into the boys' changing rooms.

'Hey,' said a voice, and Harry looked up.

'Ron,' said Harry. 'You made it.'

'Of course I made it,' said Ron. 'Where else did you think I'd be?'

'Oh, I dunno, maybe with Hermione,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'How's she doing?'

'She's not hung-over anymore,' said Ron, and Harry noticed the corners of his mouth turning up.

'Christ, Ron,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'I don't think I want to know what you did to cure her, okay?'

Ron held up his hands. 'Hey, you're the one with his mind in the gutter, not me.' He smiled again and raised his eyebrows. 'I will say that this morning totally made up for her getting pissed last night, though.'

'I get it,' said Harry. 'Now would you quit thinking about shagging and get your mind on Quidditch?'

'Already on it, mate,' said Ron. 'Dean knows I'm back in?'

'Yeah, I told him he's sitting out this one. I figure we can give the alternates every fourth practice, include them in on strategy, of course.'

'Of course.'

'Hey,' said Seamus, as he entered the changing rooms and immediately started pulling on his Quidditch gear. 'How's Hermione?'

'She's fine,' said Ron coolly. 'I'd steer clear of her if I were you, though. For at least the next twenty-four hours.'

'Right,' said Seamus.

The practice commenced and all told, things went well. Ron's flying was a bit stiff, but Harry expected that; what mattered was that he was blocking nearly every goal that flew his way. The sun came out in force and made the practice sweaty work, which made Harry's glasses slip down his nose with annoying frequency--he made a mental note to ask Hermione about a Sticking Charm. Colin hit one wild Bludger that nearly unseated Lizzie, but she handled herself well and simply rolled out of the way.

The one thing that eluded Harry, however, was a clear strategy for the upcoming match next month. The Chasers all meshed well; Ginny was the superior overall flyer but Parvati matched her for passing and Lizzie for speed. But all three girls, however tough, were nonetheless small, and therefore more vulnerable. Harry knew he should be able to come up with some idea to maximize their strengths and minimize their risk of injury, but for the life of him he couldn't think of anything. He added to his list of mental notes to ask talk about the issue with Ron.

Dinner was quiet; Hermione made a brief appearance and made a point of looking particularly dignified. Seamus and Dean bit their lips and focused quite steadily on eating, but nobody said a word about her condition the previous night.

She stayed only long enough to wolf down some dinner, talk small talk with Harry, Ron and Ginny, and fly out of the Great Hall again, announcing as she went that she was going to the library. Harry and Ron exchanged looks and shook their heads.

Later in the evening Hermione returned to the common room; Harry and Ron were playing wizard chess and Ginny was in a corner talking with Colin Creevey. Most of the students were in bed.

'Hey,' said Harry, as Hermione flopped down onto the sofa. She looked very disgruntled.

'These damned codes!' she said angrily.

'Language, love,' Ron teased, but she threw him a nasty look and he held up his hands in apology.

'I take it...you haven't solved them,' said Harry gently.

'No!' said Hermione snappishly. 'It's right there, in front of my face, I know it. I'm just missing something. Something that's probably embarrassingly obvious.'

'Hermione, it's okay,' said Harry. 'You don't have to flog yourself over it.'

'Well, it's frustrating!' she said irritably.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks and smiled; Hermione truly did hate not having all the answers.

'I might as well get my homework done,' she said, pulling several books from her school bag.

'Hermione, it's Saturday,' said Ron. 'Take a break.'

Hermione cleared her throat primly and opened her Potions book.

'I took quite a break earlier in the day, Ron,' she said pointedly, her eyes skipping over the text. 'If you'll recall.'

Harry sniggered and Ron's ears went pink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weekend was over before Harry even realized it. He'd left his homework late again and found himself spending most of Sunday working on it. When Monday rolled round he was tired and a bit cranky and made yet another vow to himself not to leave homework until the last minute.

He went to breakfast and the first thing he did was to pour himself a large mug of coffee. Ron and Hermione appeared and sat down, respectively, next to him and across from him. Ginny joined them a moment later, looking tired and drawn.

'It's the Empath training,' she explained in a low voice. 'The Pensieve helps but Mrs. Tonks is really working me.'

Ron scowled. 'Maybe she should back off a bit,' he said.

'No, it's okay,' said Ginny, pouring some coffee of her own. 'I need the work, the sooner I can get this under control the better.' She glanced at Harry and smiled at him, a bit sadly, and he smiled back.

Harry dug into his porridge when a rush of wings announced the morning post. A moment later the latest issue of The Daily Prophet plopped unceremoniously into Hermione's lap. She paid the delivery owl and looked down at the front page, and gasped.

'Look!' she said, and she passed the paper to Ron; he and Harry stared at the headline.

'BREAKING NEWS: ATTACK IN VARNA THWARTED: THREE DEATH EATERS ARRESTED, ONE KILLED.'

'Whoa,' said Ron and Harry together.

They read the article together, with Ron reading aloud in a muffled voice.

'Breaking news: A Death Eater attack on the Bulgarian city of Varna has been thwarted, officials in the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic reported today.

'At approximately 5:00 this morning Death Eaters attempted an attack on two key government buildings in Varna, but were met by dozens of members of the Bulgarian Secret Magical Police. There was a violent skirmish at the Bulgarian Magical Treasury, which resulted in the death of one Policeman and serious injuries for two others; their names are being kept confidential. One Death Eater was killed in the attack, and he was identified by an informant to the Secret Police as one Katarina Dolohov; Miss Dolohov is the sister of Antonin Dolohov, also a Death Eater, who was killed this past summer in another battle with Aurors here in Britain. A second attack was attempted outside the Department of Defence; there was a brief battle but there were no serious injuries, and the Police managed to apprehend three Death Eaters before the rest could Disapparate. The three Death Eaters who were apprehended are identified as Walden Macnair, Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint.'

'Macnair,' said Ron. 'I thought he went to Azkaban.'

'No, Avery went to Azkaban,' said Harry. 'Macnair got out before he could get caught.'

'Marcus Flint?' said Hermione. 'Wasn't he--'

'Quidditch captain for Slytherin,' said Harry and Ron together, and Ron shook his head.

'Have to say,' he said, 'I never figured Flint for the Death Eater type. A prat, to be sure, but too stupid to go that far. Didn't he repeat a year?'

'If Crabbe and Goyle can be Death Eaters--' Harry began in a low voice.

'We don't know that they are,' said Hermione quickly.

'Their fathers are,' said Ron, 'so you can bet they're training their boys up.'

'Point is,' said Harry, 'intelligence isn't a prerequisite for being a part of that club.'

'Keep reading,' said Hermione, nodding at the paper.

'Right,' said Ron, and he continued.

'Bulgarian officials are negotiating with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the British Ministry of Magic to extradite the three captured Death Eaters--all citizens of the United Kingdom--back to Britain after they have faced trial in Bulgaria. Messrs Macnair, Pucey and Flint are all wanted in Britain on charges of assault, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and extortion. All three Death Eaters are currently being held at a maximum security prison in Blageovgrad. They have asked for solicitors and have refused to answer any questions.

'The Bulgarian Minister, Ivan Svetlov, confirmed as well that a similar Death Eater attack that had been planned for the capital city Sofia was in fact a ruse to distract from the real attacks on Varna. The Daily Prophet has learned that a single anonymous tip by an unknown person or persons was behind the Bulgarian ministry's sudden change of plans to mobilize the Secret Police out of the capital and into Varna. Under repeated questioning, Minister Svetlov refused to comment as to the source of the tip he had received, except to say that the source was well known to him and infinitely reliable.'

Ron stopped reading and set the paper down. He was breathing a bit heavily and was staring down at his hands.

'Ron, are you okay?' said Hermione, reaching across the table to take his hand.

'Fine,' he said weakly. 'I'm okay.'

'Wow,' said Harry, looking at Ron and feeling impressed. 'You were right, Ron.'

'I guess I was,' Ron said, his face still pale, and he took a swig of coffee.

'Weird,' Harry said suddenly, as something occurred to him.

'What?' said Ron.

'I just realized,' said Harry. 'I didn't feel anything. From Voldemort. He's got to be angry about this. Really angry. But I didn't feel anything.'

'What do you think that means, Harry?' said Hermione.

'I dunno,' said Harry, and he let out a breath. 'I've been trying Legilimency but I can't get anything. It's like going into a black hole every time I try.' He looked at Ginny.

'I haven't had any dreams,' she said. 'They stopped when I started using the Pensieve.'

Nobody said anything for a moment.

'Hard to know,' said Harry.

'What's hard to know?'

'If Voldemort's silence is good or bad this time,' said Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As with the first two weeks of term, the third sped by. Their defence lesson was taken up entirely with Shield Charms. Professor Hopkirk had a few students demonstrate some Shield Charms and pronounced them thoroughly unsatisfactory.

'Your Charms are pathetically weak,' she said. 'At best they'll repel a Stunner, but anything stronger and you'll go down.'

And so they spent the whole of the lesson working on strengthening their Shield Charms; Harry, for his part, already had a powerful Shield Charm, having used one to save Susan's life from Voldemort. When Hopkirk came by to observe his charm, she called a halt to the lesson and directed their attention at Harry, demanding that he demonstrate. She threw a Bone-Breaking Curse at him and he blocked it.

'That, class, is what a real Shield Charm should so,' she said. 'Nicely done, Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor.'

Hermione was furious, however.

'Throwing a Bone-Breaking Curse at a student?!' she fumed, all the way to Transfiguration.

That lesson proved to be no less difficult, but it was made entertaining by the fact that McGonagall announced--very stiffly--that they would be practicing Gender Changing spells. The response to this news was a combination of murmuring and muffled laughter, and McGonagall looked as though she had expected this.

'Excellent,' Seamus muttered under his breath. 'I've always wondered what it's like to have tits.'

Harry sniggered.

'Not everyone will be working the spells today,' said McGonagall. 'It is an extremely complex procedure that requires patience and perfect technique. This type of glamour goes beyond mere surface change. There are hormonal changes that occur as well as basic structural changes, and a full gender change through a spell is dangerous. If done incorrectly, permanent damage to certain vital organs will result.'

At this, an audible gulp could be heard among the male students.

'Suffice it to say that safety and accuracy are crucial,' said McGonagall. 'The first part of the lesson will be wand technique only. The second half will be practical application. As amusing as this lesson typically is to teenagers I must insist that you engage in your spell work with the utmost seriousness, to minimize the risk of injury.'

She paused and looked round the room.

'One more thing,' she said. 'Every year there is at least one student who finds it amusing to engage in inappropriate behaviour involving his or her temporary body parts,' said McGonagall, her lips pursed in disapproval. 'If I see any such lewdness in this class by anyone, he or she will receive a week's detentions and lose house points.'

Ron and Harry exchanged nervous glances, but then the class began to work on wand technique and incantations. It was all very complicated and more than once Hermione stepped in and corrected them. Then it was time to work the spells themselves.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, grimacing.

'Ready to be a girl?' Ron said.

'No,' said Harry.

They went through the spells carefully. It hurt, all of it, and Harry didn't dare look in a mirror to see what he looked like in a female body. It was bizarre and frightening having nothing between his legs, and whatever McGonagall had said about lewdness, Harry had to resist the urge to grab his crotch. Having breasts, too, was strange, but that wasn't altogether bad. In fact, it was quite enticing. His hands itched to touch them.

'Yer actually quite pretty, Potter,' Seamus said, sniggering. 'Weasley, on the other hand...yikes.'

'Shut up,' said Ron.

'Shut up,' Harry hissed, his voice oddly higher. 'Shit, Ron, change me back now. This is too weird.'

Ron complied, and Harry was thankfully himself again, and entirely in one piece This time he did grab his crotch. McGonagall didn't notice.

All there. That was too weird.

'Now hurry and do me,' Ron snapped. 'Shut up, Seamus,' he added, as Harry waved his wand and performed the many counterspells.

'Thank Merlin,' Ron muttered, his voice back to normal, and he too, put his hand over his crotch. 'I don't ever want to do that again--GAHHH!'

He jumped back and nearly bumped into Harry to see Hermione come forward; her hair was short, her body was decidedly male and she had the beginnings of facial hair as well as hairy legs, which showed beneath her skirt.

'What?' she asked, her voice low and gruff. She was grinning.

'God, change yourself back!' Ron cried, covering his eyes. 'Unless you want me to have nightmares.'

'Oh, honestly,' said Hermione. 'Neville, can you?' A minute later Hermione was herself again, and she tapped Ron on the arm; he was still covering his eyes with his hand.

'You can look now,' she said in her normal voice.

Ron opened his eyes and let out a breath. 'Thank god. That was way too bizarre,' he said.

'Mr. Finnigan! I warned you! Detention for a week!'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'It's Dean's fault,' Seamus muttered as they left the classroom; he was rubbing at his flat, very male chest ruefully. 'He had to go and give me tits the size of Quaffles. What was I supposed to do?'

'I said I was sorry, mate,' said Dean, but he didn't look that sorry. 'Those were some nice ones, though.'

Hermione gave a disgusted snort, and for once Lavender seemed to agree with her.

'Oh come on,' said Dean jovially.

'Is it too much to ask for you not to talk about girl's body parts like they're playthings?' said Hermione irritably.

Harry noticed Ron was being conspicuously silent. Harry quickly decided to change the subject.

'Even you have to admit it was funny, Hermione,' he said, 'when Goyle couldn't change Crabbe all the way back.'

'Crabbe the Hermaphrodite,' said Ron, laughing.

'Ron,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes, but she did smile.

'Somebody should have told Crabbe to go fuck himself,' said Dean, laughing.

'I think he could literally do it,' said Neville, grinning.

'Really!' said Hermione, throwing up her hands.

Tuesday came and their Potions lesson involved brewing Memory Retrieval Potion. Harry thought at once of Neville's secret project, but Hermione murmured that this particular potion--widely regarded to be the best and strongest available and the only one that didn't produce unpleasant side effects, like convulsions and hair loss--had limited applications. It was another exceedingly difficult potion to make and it smelled so foul that Snape had to cast a Ventilation Charm on the dungeons to keep everyone from either passing out or vomiting.

Charms involved more levitation work, and Herbology was spent working with Flaming Ficuses, dangerous plants whose leaves flared up unexpectedly but whose stems were useful in treating glaucoma. Wednesday's Care of Magical Creatures was another wholly boring exercise of building new nests for the eggs, which had grown about a half inch in size.

Wednesday night arrived with the announcement of the first D.A. meeting of the term. Neville spent the whole day looking a bit queasy and very nervous. His meeting with Professor Hopkirk had been, in his own words, 'the weirdest and scariest meeting with a teacher I've ever had.' Considering how terrified Neville had once been of Snape that was saying something.

At seven o'clock, the fifth year students and above headed back to the Room Great Hall in the company of a small regiment of Aurors. Their presence had once again become so normal to Harry that he rarely noticed them anymore. He felt a bit guilty about this and often told himself he really should try and get to know them--after all, he was planning a career as an Auror, and these Aurors were risking their lives to guard the school--but something always came up to distract Harry from his goal, and in any case, the demeanour of the Aurors suggested they preferred to be left alone to do their jobs.

The Great Hall was emptied of tables and chairs, and the stone floor had been replaced with thick matting, to act as a cushion. Aurors were dotted here and there throughout the room, and in the far corner stood an unfamiliar wizard wearing what looked like sickly-green coloured pyjamas with a large 'H' emblazoned on the front of his shirt. Over his clothes he work dark green robes.

'Guess we're going to be falling down a lot,' Seamus muttered.

'Your attention!' came a booming, authoritative voice. Everyone stopped chattering and looked up to find Professor Hopkirk standing on the daïs in front of the Head Table. She was wearing all black again, but instead of robes she wore an outfit that reminded Harry of the sort of thing a covert operations soldier in the Muggle army might wear. Her shirt was love-sleeved and had a high turtle neck; over the shirt was a vest with various pockets. Her trousers also had numerous pockets--one of which held her wand--and were tight fitting, leaving little to the imagination. On her feet were heavy black leather boots that laced up. Her strawberry hair was pulled back in a severe bun.

Neville stood several feet away from her, looking at her nervously and appearing as though he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

'Welcome to the first D.A. meeting of the year,' Hopkirk said smoothly. 'Everyone remove your school robes, please.'

Harry exchanged looks with Ron and shrugged, and in the next moment there was the sound of robe clasps opening and heavy fabric swishing as robes came off. Hermione folded hers neatly as Harry and Ron balled theirs up; she gave them a look and shook her head. Very quickly, everyone in the room had removed their robes and stood in their school uniforms.

'From now on, all of you will come to meetings in your weekend clothing,' Hopkirk ordered. 'I expect during the course of our training that a little blood might occur. We don't want to soil your uniforms, now do we?'

Hermione bristled and Harry could swear he heard the whole room gulp collectively.

'Now,' said Professor Hopkirk sharply. 'There is one main objective this evening. To cast a perfect Shield Charm each and every single time your opponent attacks. Speed, accuracy and strength are what I want from all of you. A strong Shield Charm can repel many of the nastiest forms of Dark Magic, including the Killing Curse.'

And suddenly, before Harry even really knew what was happening, Professor Hopkirk drew her wand and whirled on Neville; it was so fast that Hopkirk looked like nothing more than a blur of strawberry blonde hair and black clothes.

'Avada Kedavra!'

A scream rose up from the room and Harry watched the scene as if it were in slow motion, the green light of the curse racing towards Neville. But Neville was already moving.

'Protego!' he shouted, and a golden glow shot from his wand and collided with the green light of Hopkirk's curse and exploded, sending sparks of green and gold light bursting into the air. In the next instant, there was another collective scream as Hopkirk's beam of green light rebounded and flew into the back wall of the Great Hall with a loud crash, leaving behind a smoking black hole in the stone surface. An acrid smell rose from the smoke left behind by the explosion.

For the next several seconds, there was a silence, so complete that Harry could have heard a pin drop, and yet so loud it seemed to be screaming in his ears. The entire room was staring alternately at Professor Hopkirk--who looked as though nothing untoward had happened, as though she hadn't just thrown a Killing Curse at a student--and at Neville, who was panting and still holding his wand up; his eyes were furious and terrified at the same time, and his face was ashen.

The Aurors in the room were all standing stock still, as well; clearly, they had expected something like this to happen, as none of them had struck at Professor Hopkirk for using a Killing Curse.

'Professor,' came a horrified voice. It was Hermione. 'You...you...'

'Yes, Miss Granger?' Professor Hopkirk asked.

'A Killing Curse?' Hermione exploded. 'At a student? Are you mad?'

Now everyone was staring at Hermione, who hadn't mouthed off to a teacher since the Umbridge days--and even then, Hermione had never lost her temper.

'I assure you, Miss Granger, I'm quite sane,' Professor Hopkirk said coolly. Hermione stared at her in unchecked fury as Hopkirk walked gracefully over to Neville.

'Good show, Mr. Longbottom,' she said silkily. 'Very good show. As you can see, Neville deflected the Killing Curse.' She smiled and it was an altogether chilling effect. 'And you all thought that was impossible.'

'It's impossible!' Hermione yelled.

'Hermione,' Harry warned, but she was ignoring him.

'I'm sorry,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'Did you miss something, Miss Granger? You see, from where I stood, Mr. Longbottom quite clearly deflected the curse I threw at him. I'm guessing everyone else in this room would say the same.'

'There's no spell or charm that can deflect a Killing Curse!' Hermione protested.

'Hermione, let it go,' said Ron.

'Are you doubting what you just witnessed with your own eyes, Miss Granger?' said Hopkirk, her own eyes widening. 'Clearly there is a way to block the Killing Curse, and Mr. Longbottom just demonstrated it.'

'But...no,' said Hermione, shaking her head. 'No, it's impossible, there's no documented case of any shield charm ever deflecting the Killing Curse. You must have...you must have thrown a different curse or something.'

'I assure you I didn't,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'But you are right, Miss Granger, that there are no documented cases of anyone deflecting the Killing Curse, because up until now, no one has. There hasn't been a Shield Charm developed that was strong enough to deflect the Killing Curse. Now there is. And I promise you, you won't find any references to it in any books. But I'm delighted to see that it works. Mr. Longbottom here is our test subject, you see, and it's quite encouraging to note--'

'You can't do this!' Hermione burst out, and she started forward.

'Hermione, don't,' Ron hissed, but there was no stopping her as she stormed right up to the dais and to Professor Hopkirk.

'You can't throw Killing Curses at students!' Hermione raved. 'You could have killed him! This is wrong and you know it, Dumbledore can't approve of this! I'm...I'm reporting you to the Ministry!'

'Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk, shaking her head. 'Mr. Longbottom is fine. He accomplished what he was supposed to do. In real-world situation he would have saved his own life.'

'Hermione, it's okay,' said Neville.

'No, it's not okay, Neville!' Hermione cried. 'She almost killed you--'

'Enough!' Professor Hopkirk bellowed, and her voice seemed to fill the room. A collective gasp now went up as Hopkirk's icy eyes became so pale it was almost as if she had no irises at all. Her face, normally alabaster-white, became flushed with fury.

Hermione went silent and her eyes widened in genuine fear.

'I will not have my teaching methods questioned by you, Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk, advancing on Hermione; Hopkirk looked incredibly tall and imposing and Hermione shrank back; Harry saw Ron take a step forward.

'Ron,' Harry warned, gripping Ron's arm. Ron stopped, but his eyes were fixed on Hermione. Everyone else, however, stared at Hopkirk in awe and fright as she continued to walk, to glide toward Hermione menacingly.

'Do you really think a Death Eater would take the time to ask you whether your Shield Charm was powerful enough to block his Killing Curse?' Hopkirk said, in a cold, dangerous voice. 'You, Miss Granger, you of all people have seen what they do. They use the Cruciatus Curse on Muggle-born children for the fun of it. They torture their victims until they are begging them to kill them and have done with it. They rape and murder because they like to do it. They care nothing for rules and regulations and playing fair. And you, you have faced Death Eaters and have seen what they're capable of, you have the gall to question how I prepare my students to face that enemy?'

'I was only--' Hermione protested weakly.

'Report me to the Ministry, Miss Granger, I dare you. Go to Professor Dumbledore. They'll all tell you the same thing. We cannot afford to follow the rules anymore.'

By now Hermione's eyes were filled with tears and her lip was trembling.

'You have a choice, Miss Granger,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'You do not have to like me but you will either learn from me or get out. There are no half-measures in my class. Though I take the safety of my students seriously this is not playtime. We are here to defend our lives, to defend the lives of others. If you are not prepared to do this, to do whatever it takes, I suggest you leave.'

At this, Hermione straightened up and looked Hopkirk squarely in the eye. A single tear escaped down her cheek but her lip stopped trembling and she cleared her throat.

'I'll stay,' she said, in a clear strong voice, and for a moment the air crackled with electricity as she stared at Hopkirk, and Hopkirk stared right back.

Suddenly Hopkirk's mouth curled into a smile.

'A wise decision,' she said sinuously. She gave a nod and Hermione turned on her heel and walked off the dais and back to Harry and Ron; it was only when she got closer that Harry saw that she was trembling.

'Hermione,' Ron whispered, and he tried to pull her into an embrace.

She pushed away. 'I'm okay,' she said, and her mouth went into a hard line and her brown eyes flashed dangerously. 'I'm fine.'

Ginny put a hand on her arm, and Harry watched as Hermione's face loosened slightly; Ginny smiled painfully for a moment.

'You didn't have to do that, Ginny,' said Hermione.

'Yeah, I did,' said Ginny, pulling her hand away.

And suddenly the room became filled with the sounds of murmurs again.

'Fancy that about Neville,' whispered Colin. 'I never knew he was so quick with a wand.'

'He must have been practicing,' said Dennis.

'Now,' said Professor Hopkirk loudly, 'before Miss Granger's outburst you all managed to witness Mr. Longbottom very effectively deflect my Killing Curse. He was alert, he was fast, and he was accurate. It is this kind of skill that is needed in true defence. Of course, deflecting the Killing Curse has a drawback--the curse will ricochet off the charm, instead of being absorbed and destroyed by it, which means the curse risks hitting an innocent when it bounces off the charm. Something to think about. The only other way to escape the Killing Curse, I'm afraid, is to duck. Now, in deference to Ministry rules I will not be teaching anyone how to use a Killing Curse, nor will we be demonstrating the anti-Killing Shield Charm any further this evening. However, I'm sure you'll all consider my demonstration with Mr. Longbottom to be instructive. Pair up.'

For a moment nobody moved.

'Are you all deaf?' Hopkirk snapped. 'Pair up!'

At once there was a wave of movement. Ron and Hermione paired up, as did Colin and Ginny. Harry was disappointed at not having Ginny for a partner--though he never liked the idea of throwing curses at her--and began to cast about for a partner of his own when Parvati appeared.

'You and me, Harry?' she asked, tossing her black plait over her shoulder.

'Sure,' said Harry.

'Attention!' Hopkirk called. 'The curses we'll be using are the Muscle Pulling curse, the Bone-Breaking curse and the Asphyxiation Curse. If all of you have your Shield Charms up to snuff, everyone should leave here without a scratch. You will go back and forth with your partner, alternating between curse and defence, for twenty minutes. If anyone is hurt, you will stop duelling immediately. Despite what certain people think, I do care about ensuring your safety.' She gave a cool glance at Hermione.

'You will alert me to any injuries with red sparks from your wand. We have a fully qualified medi-wizard here'--Hopkirk indicated the wizard in the dark green robes--'to deal with any injuries.'

Hermione gave a nasty sound, like a cat hissing, but she took her position across from Ron.

'Remember,' said Hopkirk smoothly, casting a glance at Hermione, 'no half measures.'

Harry and Parvati took their own positions.

'You first or me?' Parvati asked.

'Er, you first,' said Harry. 'For the curse, I mean.'

'Okay,' said Parvati nervously. 'I'm sorry in advance if I break your leg or something.' She smiled winningly at him.

'I don't intend to let you get that far,' said Harry, grinning.

'You may begin,' Hopkirk called.

'Confractum femoris!' Parvati cried, throwing a leg-breaking curse at Harry.

'Protego!' Harry yelled, blocking the curse in a shower of sparks. 'Lacero bracchium!'

'Protego!' Parvati shrieked, and she blocked the curse, just barely, but she wasted not a moment before throwing another curse. 'Examino!'

'Protego!'

And on it went. Parvati held her own quite well, to Harry's pleasant surprise, and by the time Professor Hopkirk called 'Stop!' both had managed to block all the other's curses.

'Good show, Parvati,' said Harry, wiping sweat from his forehead.

'You too,' she said, dabbing at her own forehead with her sleeve. She smiled again, but then Harry saw a red glow coming from somewhere in the middle of the room.

'I said stop!' Hopkirk yelled, and suddenly Harry heard the sound of shuffling and the beginnings of shouting, and he turned, along with the rest of the students, to see Hopkirk racing to the centre of the room; an Auror was close behind. And suddenly Hopkirk and the Auror--a young wizard with black hair--were pulling the furiously struggling form of Draco Malfoy back.

'What the...' Ron muttered, as he, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Parvati all clumped together to see what was going on.

'Malfoy, that's enough!' Hopkirk snarled, gripping his wand arm with surprising strength and using her legs to lift him back, but Draco had the advantage in upper body strength and shook her off; the young Auror, however, held on and it was only when he pointed his wand at Draco's chest that Draco stopped struggling. By now all the Slytherin students were gathered together, watching the spectacle and exchanging looks with each other.

Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment and then looked down to see Theodore Nott lying flat on his back; his leg was bent at a hideously unnatural angle, blood was seeping from his nose and mouth and he was coughing and holding his left wrist. The room again was silent but for the sounds of Nott's coughing and moaning, and Hopkirk and Draco's voices.

'What do you think you're doing?' Hopkirk demanded furiously, as Draco ran a hand through his hair; other than the sweat on his face and the dishevelled state of his hair, he looked none the worse for wear. Indeed, he had not a scratch on him.

'Duelling,' said Draco icily.

'You were told specifically to stop if you injured your partner,' said Hopkirk furiously. 'He sent up red sparks.'

'I didn't see,' said Draco coldly.

Hopkirk gave a disbelieving snort. 'Then did you miss the fact, Mr. Malfoy, that Mr. Nott already had a broken leg and a sprained wrist? That he has multiple injuries?'

'No,' said Draco evenly, meeting her cold blue eyes with his stony grey ones. 'I didn't miss that fact. I suppose he needs to work on the speed and accuracy of his Shield Charm.'

By now the medi-wizard was working on Nott, dabbing at the damage to his face with a viscous looking salve.

'I do not tolerate rule-breaking, Mr. Malfoy,' said Hopkirk, her voice low and dangerous. 'Multiple injuries to this student mean you were breaking the rules.'

'Oh well,' said Draco.

Professor Hopkirk straightened to her full height. 'Detention, Mr. Malfoy,' she said. 'Starting tonight. My office at ten. I'll make your excuses for missing curfew to Professor Snape.'

'Fine,' said Draco defiantly.

'Get out,' said Hopkirk viciously. She nodded to the Auror standing next to her. 'See that he goes straight to his dormitory.'

Draco sneered at Hopkirk before he stormed out of the Great Hall. Pansy started to go after him.

'Miss Parkinson, unless you want to risk losing house points I suggest you stay right where you are,' said Hopkirk. She went back up to the daïs; nobody spoke, and Harry couldn't remember a D.A. meeting ever being so tense or nerve-wracking. Hopkirk turned and faced the students.

'I meant what I said,' she said coldly. 'There will be no rule-breaking in these meetings. No settling of scores, no schoolyard fighting. We have a common enemy, and it is not anyone in this room. Never forget that.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting ended a half-hour later; they went back to duelling again and by the end of it Harry was exhausted, but neither he nor Parvati had managed to get a curse past the other.

'I had fun working with you, Harry,' said Parvati, as they filed out of the Great Hall. 'Well, maybe "fun" isn't quite the right word...'

'I know what you mean,' said Harry. 'You were good.'

She gave him an openly flirtatious smile. 'So were you,' she said, and she bit her lip and put her fingertips on his arm. 'I wonder what else you're good at.'

Bloody hell.

Harry felt his mouth go dry and he swallowed.

'I'm looking forward to Hogsmeade,' she said.

'Me, too,' said Harry, and he meant it. Or at least he was pretty sure he did; it was hard to be sure of anything when she looked at him with those sparkling dark eyes of hers, that were almost black.

'Oi, Harry,' Ron called.

'I'll see you later, Harry,' said Parvati, and she brushed her fingertips over his arm and jogged up to walk with Lavender.

'What's up?' Ron asked, catching up with Harry.

'Nothing,' said Harry quickly.

'Are you and Parvati--' Ron began softly.

'No,' said Harry quickly. 'I mean...we're sort going to Hogsmeade together but...'

Ron sniggered. 'You move fast,' he said. 'First Daphne, now Parvati...you're turning into a right slag.'

'Shut up,' Harry muttered, punching Ron lightly in the arm.

'Well,' said Hermione, and her voice was tight. 'That was by far the most outrageous--'

'Hermione,' said Ron, 'don't start. You'll just work yourself up again.'

'But Hopkirk's dreadful!' Hermione protested, in a voice loud enough to suggest she didn't care who heard her. 'And I don't care what she says, there's no way to deflect the Killing Curse, people have been trying to come up with a spell for centuries to deflect and nobody's done it. And maybe we are...at war but that doesn't mean she can--'

'Hermione,' said Ron, taking Hermione's hand and squeezing it. She started to say something else but she must have caught something in Ron's gaze, because she sighed and nodded; he put his arm round her shoulder and drew her close as they headed toward Gryffindor tower.

'You have to admit, though,' said Harry darkly. 'Hopkirk has a point.'