Content Harry Potter Crossovers
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The first of September appeared on my calendar remarkably quickly, sending a odd combination of relief and longing through my heart. As much as I was glad I was not returning to the wizarding world to be tormented or idolised, the thought of my friends enjoying each other's company sent me into a melancholy mood.

Of course, the thought that I wouldn't have to put up with Malfoy cheered me up more than just a bit.

Zab, of course, had some practical tasks for me.

"Put your wand away, Harry. You've been working quite hard for the past week. I'd like you to take a break today, go to Diagon Alley, and pick up some supplies for me. Visit your friends, take your time."

A flash of irritation swept through me, (If he'd asked me yesterday, I'd have been able to see my friends one last time before they headed off to Hogwarts) but I silenced it with some thoughts. As much as I would have liked to visit with Ron and Hermione one last time before they went back to school, September the first was the slowest day in Diagon Alley. I should be able to pick up everything Zab wants without difficulty or delay. That was why he waited until today to send me in errands, instead of sending me yesterday.

Zab handed me a list. My eyes widened. Some of the stores were in Knockturn Alley!

I frowned as I scanned the rest of the list. "This makes no sense. A single item from some stores, and a list from others? Some of the single items can be bought from other stores," I said, trying to work it out.

Zab stayed silent.

Oddly, the only stores that had a single item against them were either Dark, or borderline. If I lost the list...

"They're codes. If I ask for that item, I'll get the whole order," I suggested.

Zab nodded, looking pleased. "Excellent, Harry. We'll make a competent wizard out of you yet."

"Thanks," I replied dryly.

Zab nodded, ignoring my tone. "And stop in on Ollivander too. Get yourself another wand."

I grinned. "I had already planned on doing that. It doesn't make much sense to practise hurling spells through a remote wand if you can't summon it back to your hand when you need it."

Though I had expected Diagon Alley to be quiet, I didn't expect it to be almost deserted.

I had been to Diagon Alley only a handful of times in my life, and each time, it had seemed to have a life of its own. There were always hundreds of brightly dressed people making their way through the district, on errands of their own. To someone like me, who had grown up in a very sombre environment, it was like a carnival or circus.

Today, however, there was nothing. Half the stores were closed, with signs on the doors informing the public that they were in the process of restocking. Many storekeepers were standing outside, chatting with one another, obviously taking some measure of relief from the crowds of the past week. Even the twins' store was closed, which depressed me a little.

My excursion in Diagon Alley took far less time than I expected, and probably even less than Zab expected. Storekeepers all but jumped to attention to assist me, most of them thanking me for finally getting the Ministry to acknowledge Voldemort's return, or apologising to me for believing the worst.

Knockturn Alley was a little different. The looks I got there were guarded, suspicious. Even though the shops I entered were all legitimate vendors, it was obvious that I was not expected, or particularly welcome.

Despite the difference in welcome, my shopping was completed just as quickly, and I found myself in front of Gringotts with more than two hours before I was due to return.

I shrunk the last bag of Zab's goodies, and marched towards Ollivanders' shop.

"Well, well, well. Mr. Potter. Eleven inches, holly with a phoenix feather core, yes?. Exactly how is your wand functioning?"

"Perfectly," I replied quickly. Not even Merlin himself could convince me to discuss the experiments I was doing with my wand with another person. "I need another wand."

Ollivander looked me up and down for a long moment, lost in thought. "If the wand I sold you five years ago is still functioning perfectly, exactly why do you need another, hmm?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, not in the mood to be intimidated or frightened. "You know there is a brother to my wand out there," I said, trying to imply that I wanted a wand that wouldn't react to Voldemort's.

His silver eyes flickered up to my forehead, to my bloody scar. Not that he could see it, my fringe was just as thick and long as usual. "Ah, yes. That is, unfortunately, very true. But I suspect that you are not being entirely truthful with me."

Inwardly cursing, I raised my mental shields. "I just told you why I need it, I don't care if you don't believe me," I snapped, feeling a faint touch to my defenses. "And keep your Legilimency to yourself."

Ollivander blinked, and then, to my surprise, smiled. "You are maturing well, Mr. Potter. I told you the first time we met that I expected great things from you. It pleases me to know that I was right. From what Albus has told me of your exploits, I have not been disappointed." The old man turned and began extracting armloads of boxes from the shelves. "Come, experiment with these."

The first few dozen 'experiments' were utter failures. Though I could get spells through them, it was far more difficult than using my own wand. None of them lit up at all when I waved them.

"Do you have any holly wands? Or wands that have a phoenix feather core that didn't come from Fawkes?" I asked.

"It doesn't work that way, Mr. Potter. Simply having a close affinity to your wand does not make it any more likely that holly wands in general would be more to your liking. Although wands made with feathers of Albus' phoenix would have a high probability of responding to your touch."

"And here I was thinking I was trying to get a wand that wasn't a brother to Voldemort's." I said snidely.

Mr. Ollivander hummed a bit. "True."

I grunted, and went back to waving wands. We finally found one that vaguely reacted to my touch, willow with a unicorn hair. To test it, I tossed my glasses onto a padded chair in the corner of the shop, then summoned them, using my new wand. They hesitated momentarily, but flew to my hand."

"This will do. I'll take it," I said, pulling out my money pouch. "Seven galleons?" I asked.

Ollivander nodded, his unblinking silver eyes following my own. "Should you ever feel comfortable to tell me the real reason you need another wand, I would be-," was all I heard, before slamming the money down on the counter and the door behind me.

I lay back on my bed, almost fizzing with energy. The trip to Diagon Alley had been fun, it allowed me to get out and about for half a day, but I hadn't managed to catch up with the twins. My new wand still felt odd to hold, the magic flowing through it felt different to my normal wand.

It didn't take a genius to work out why I was so energised. For the first time in over a week, I hadn't spent several hours forcing my magic to work from a distance. I looked down at my body, noting that my feet were tapping to a silent beat.

I glanced at my watch, noting that it was almost eleven. Hermione was overdue to contact me.

I wasn't worried. She probably had her prefect duties to attend to, or more likely, Dumbledore was interrogating her about me. Ron was probably caught up too.

"Harry?"

A smile spread slowly over my face. I picked up the mirror and held it over my horizontal form. "Good evening, 'Mione. You're late."

She frowned at me. "Harry, we went to the Room of Requirement tonight, just like you asked, but the mirror wouldn't work!"

I blinked. "Um, Ok. I'm fine, thanks for asking."

She shook her head for a second, and gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry Harry. How are you?"

I grinned. "I wonder why the mirror didn't work."

"Well. We did what you said. I thought of the most secure room I could, we went in and sat down to call you. I guess that it was so secure it stopped any communication outside of the room. Luna tried to get the room to accept mirror communications, but with no luck."

I opened my mouth to respond, when voices from Hermione's side interrupted. "Herm? Who are you speaking to?"

I was suddenly treated to a wonderfully close up view of Hermione's chest, as she pressed the mirror into her pyjamas. "No one," I heard her say, though her voice was muffled.

Sounds of a struggle came through, and the material pressed against the mirror twisted and shifted along as Hermione wrestled with whoever it was who interrupted her. Probably Parvati or Lavender. Smart as she was, Hermione didn't grow up with brothers, so it was inevitable that the mirror was torn from her grasp.

"-some sort of speaking diary? Or a present from Harry?" I heard Parvati ask her, leering my name, as the scene shown in the mirror tumbled around chaotically. After a few seconds, Parvati managed to hold the mirror steady and look into it, while holding Hermione at bay with her other hand.

Rather amusingly, during the tussle, certain parts of Parvati that usually remained hidden had emerged from her rather loose-fitting nightwear. I gave her the biggest grin I could. "Hi, Parvati," I said, nodding in greeting, then looking down at the rest of her on display. "Nice breasts."

Parvati shrieked, and struggled to cover herself, dropping the mirror in the process, sending my perspective tumbling again. I got a scene full of fluffy carpet before Hermione scooped the mirror up, hissing at her assailants. "Serves you right," she spat towards someone off mirror.

I couldn't help but smile. "Are things always so entertaining in the girl's dorm?"

Hermione glared at me, making final adjustments to her own, far more modest clothing with one hand. "No. But the pair of them haven't shut up about you and I since we got here."

I raised an eyebrow. "You and I?"

Hermione huffed as she sat back on her bed and violently drew the curtains. "Your party, remember? We came down from my room together." She gave me a sour look. "They seem to think we are an item."

I shrugged. "Well, if Parvati usually wears that skimpy thing to bed, I'm not surprised that there are charms to keep the boys out."

Hermione grinned almost evilly. "I'll tell her you said that. Did you get a good view?"

"A particularly educational one."

"Good. I'll let her know. But I can't talk for long. I have double potions tomorrow morning."

I gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. Go to sleep, we'll chat later."

She pouted slightly. "But you said you'd tell me what was going on! Why you were so angry!"

I nodded. "And I will. But if the mirror won't work in the Room of Requirement, then I'll have to meet you on a Hogsmeade weekend to tell you."

She sighed, but nodded. "Fine, but you better promise."

I smiled softly. "I promise, 'Mione. I promise."

The first three weeks of term time were just as exhausting for me. Zab had me practising my magic without holding my wand more often than not, which always left me drained to the point of collapse each night. After three solid weeks of this sort of training, I was almost desperate for a break. After all, I was supposed to be learning from the Auror syllabus, and casting spells through a remote wand certainly wasn't taught at the Auror academy.

Mind you, the more I practised, the more powerful spells I could cast from a distance. I even managed to summon myself (from a metre or so, not way across the room) to my wand. Now that was an experience. Apparently, Newton's laws don't apply to summoning spells.

When Hermione told me that the first Hogsmeade weekend had been brought forward, I would have jumped for joy, if I wasn't lying flat on my back. I'll have to give Zab credit here. He had a moody, angry teen dumped on him, and he managed to keep me out of trouble with little effort on his part.

His not so subtle tactic was, obviously, to have me completely exhausted at the end of each day. As much as I found it almost impossible to keep up with the demanding workload, sleeping for twelve dreamless hours each night was the best gift anyone could have given me.

The night before the Hogsmeade weekend, Zab warned me that I would most likely be under near constant surveillance for my entire time I was in the town, and to be doubly sure there were no tracking charms placed on my clothes or person before returning to Zabini Manor.

I woke on the long awaited Saturday, my entire body screaming at me to let it sleep a while longer. I gave in to the temptation.

I woke again, a few hours later. Blearily, I glanced at the clock on my wall, and a surge of panic washed any trace of fatigue from my mind.

"Oh, bugger! I've got twenty minutes!"

Twenty-two minutes later, I emerged through the fire at the Hog's Head tavern in Hogsmeade, my hair messier than usual, my stomach growling at my lack of attention, and (I noticed as I looked down at my recalcitrant tummy) the buttons on my sweater in the wrong holes. The same, disreputable barman was sitting in the same spot and, for all I knew, was polishing the same glass as the last time I saw him.

The place was empty, except for two other patrons. I selected a large table at the rear of the building, put my backpack down on the chair next to me, sat down, fixed my buttons, and began to wait. The table was at the back of the common room, allowing me to watch the entire place, but not have anyone behind me.

I picked at my fingernails nervously, absently kicking the already well-scuffed table leg. The Hog's Head barman barely registered my presence, simply sitting at one end of the bar in deep conversation with two tavern regulars.

The door finally creaked open and several figures entered. It took me a second to register that they were wearing Hogwarts robes, but the members of the Ministry Crew were instantly recognisable. Susan Bones was with them, her hand firmly gripping Ron's. Ron, in the lead, scanned the room, his face splitting into a massive grin as he noticed me.

Neville said something to him, and made his way over to the bar while the remaining four joined me at my table. "Nice to see you all again. You especially, Luna. I missed you at my party."

Luna gave me a dreamy smile, her trademark wand-behind-her-ear look still firmly in place. "It's good to see you too, Harry."

The rest of the crew exchanged greetings with me, Hermione giving me a brief but tight hug, Ron a rough one. Neville finally sat down too, carrying three butterbeers by the bottle necks in each hand and one under his arm. "Hiya, Harry."

"Neville," I replied with a nod, accepting one of the bottles. I ran my eye over him, noting a new addition to his wardrobe. "Um, why are you wearing a prefect pin?"

"Ron had his prefectship revoked," Hermione said darkly, glaring at him.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing your mother doesn't know, you've still got your eardrums intact."

A small flicker of dread passed behind Ron's eyes, but he covered it well. "She'll probably find out sometime this weekend. Probably at an Order meeting. We'll have to think up something to explain it away," he finished, grinning at Susan.

Ginny snorted into her Butterbeer. "Good luck."

Ron gave her a sour look. "No thanks to you. If you remember, I had to bribe you not to tell Mum."

I chuckled at the siblings' banter. "You realise that if she finds out from someone other than you, you'll have to commit hari-kari."

Hermione coughed. "It's hara-kiri, Harry."

I blinked, then frowned. "Are you quite sure?"

She nodded. "Yes. It comes from-"

I held up a hand to stop her before she launched into a long winded description of the history of Japanese suicide. "I believe you, I just always thought it was hari-kari."

Ron's frown looked most amusing. "What the hell is hari-kari?"

"Hara-kiri, Ronald," corrected Luna.

"Whatever! What is it?"

"I've no idea," the blond Ravenclaw replied.

Hermione took a deep breath, but Ron leaned over and pinched her lips together gently with his fingertips. "Someone other than Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes crossed amusingly to look down at Ron's fingers, then widened with anger as she shifted her focus to his face, but I managed to keep my composure enough to answer Ron before she exploded. "Japanese suicide, Ron. You cut open your stomach with a special dagger."

Susan winced. Ron blinked and let go of Hermione's mouth. "Ouch. Sorry, 'Mione."

I coughed softly. "Um, Ron? What did you do?" I asked, hoping against hope that Hermione would be distracted enough not to hex him on the spot.

Ron shrugged and took a sip of his drink, apparently nonplussed. "Malfoy."

"Malfoy what?"

Ron grinned at me. "Malfoy has been running off his mouth ever since we got back to school. He's telling everyone that you were scared. That you were too frightened to come back to Hogwarts."

"And you hit him?"

Hermione grumbled. "And everything else."

Ron gave her a satisfied smile, while Susan buried herself deeper under his arm. "It was a good piece of magic, you have to admit," she said in defense of her (I assumed) boyfriend.

"Neville's was better," Luna injected, dreamily.

I cleared my throat, though Neville blushed. "Would one of you mind telling me what actually happened?"

Ron refused to let anyone steal his thunder. "Malfoy cornered Hermione in the potions classroom and tried to hex her. Even though she was the only Gryffindor in the class, nearly all of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students taking NEWT level potions were members of the DA last year. There was a full scale magical battle in the dungeon lab, Slytherin against the rest."

"Which you must have missed, not being in that class," I reminded him, but not able to keep a smile from my face.

Ron grinned back. "Sure, but later, when I was visiting Dumbledore's office, I was just in time to hear Snape get threatened with the sack."

"Come again?"

Ron's grin was so wide it threatened to show whether or not his wisdom teeth had come through. "Dumbledore was giving Snape the riot act."

"Reading the riot act, Ron," corrected Hermione, rolling her eyes, her tone exasperated.

"Thanks, 'Mione. Reading the riot act," Ron agreed absently. "Full out told him that if he couldn't control the Slytherins, then he'd be replaced. Both as head of house and as Potions Master."

I snorted in disbelief. "Yeah right. Like he'd even threaten that. The old bastard brought the greasy bastard to Hermione's place on my birthday to try and get into my mind."

Hermione glanced from me to Ron and back. "Um, Harry? The Headmaster didn't bring Professor Snape to my party. He arrived afterwards."

I frowned. "What? But he said..." I mumbled, trailing off as I thought about the mirror conversation I had with Dumbledore.

"He said what?" asked Ginny, her features alive with curiosity.

"He said he brought him," I whispered absently to myself. No. No he didn't. He said that he was worried that if he admitted to bringing Snape to my party I'd end the conversation. Not that he did bring him.

An unwelcome sensation washed over my stomach. He was testing me. He was testing the waters. When I asked why he brought Snape, he said he preferred not to answer. I wouldn't have believed him if he denied bringing Snape, even though it was the truth.

"Oh, bugger," I said out loud.

"What?" asked Ron, echoing the question on everyone's faces.

I shook my head. "I made a mistake. I was so angry with Dumbledore that I made assumptions that were wrong."

Luna looked vaguely interested, which was odd in itself. "What assumptions did you make?"

"That he brought Snape to my party for starters. I-, he's been lying to me for so long that I wasn't prepared to believe anything he said."

Ron perked up a bit. "Was that the conversation where you told him you would only trust him when he was dead?"

The others around the table coughed into their drinks or gasped in shock; I just nodded morosely. "Yeah. I, ah, I need to think about this." I looked up and around at my friends and forced a smile onto my face. "But not right now, what did Snape say back? When he was threatened with the sack, I mean?"

Ron looked into my eyes for a few seconds before responding. "The usual. He denied that it was his student's fault, that Malfoy was the victim. Dumbledore pointed out that it had been nearly three centuries since the last classroom battle between students of different houses, and that every time Malfoy has been in the hospital wing it has either been because he was faking it, ala Buckbeak, or because the victim of his taunts put him there."

I snorted, trying to inject something other than forced humour into the conversation again. "Not to mention the last two trips home on the Hogwarts Express."

"Exactly! You know, even though he is an inbred idiot, you'd think that even he would be able to pick up that he is outgunned by now."

I tilted my head to one side. "Why were you in Dumbledore's office in the first place?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged wary glances. "Dumbledore has been asking each of us about you. About your letters, your use of the mirror, everything," Ron said blandly. He suddenly grunted with a wince, and leaned over to his side and grabbed his shin under the table.

"We agreed not to tell him!" Hermione hissed, giving Ron a pointed glare.

Ron shook his head. "No, you thought it was a good idea not to tell him, I just didn't disagree at the time because I didn't want an argument," he retorted, giving her an aggrieved stare.

Ron turned back to me, ignoring Hermione's look of shock. "Anyway, I stuck my head in the door and asked Dumbledore if he wanted me to come back later for our meeting."

"I can't imagine Snape was too impressed."

Ron shrugged. "Yeah well, he can't do anything about it. I'm not in any of his classes, and I always carry the map around, so I keep out of his way."

"You gave him the map?" Hermione blurted at me, her eyes wide.

I frowned. "It's not like it was any use to me! What was I supposed to do with it?"

"Well, you could have given it to me!"

"I gave you the mirror. Anyway, I thought that you'd share with each other!"

Ron snorted. "When? I'm in less than half of her classes, and she's studying more this year than last."

"Well, if you want to fail your NEWTs, go right ahead and waste time now," Hermione shot back.

I noticed the door open and another, rather familiar figure entered. I elbowed Neville gently to get his attention, and to distract everyone else. "Since I'm not around anymore, it's up to you to keep these two from killing each other."

Neville smiled back. "What makes you think I'm that suicidal?" Ginny rolled her eyes at us.

"Anyway!" Ron said in a raised voice, trying to regain everyone's attention. "Dumbledore told me to supervise the detentions he gave to the Slytherins. Snape shouted that it was his responsibility, but Dumbledore yelled back that it was Snape's responsibility to manage the detentions he gave to the others. I got to take care of a bunch of whining losers, including those in the hospital wing who still hadn't woken up."

"Wait," I said, slightly confused. "Did Snape only give detentions to the other houses? Even after a full scale battle?"

Hermione nodded, looking angry, but curiously satisfied as well. "Of course. The fight didn't go well for the Slytherins." Her expression darkened momentarily. "Except for Blaise."

"Ah," I said, "I told you she was good." The figure who entered threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing Blaise herself, a smirk on her face. She winked at me, though I didn't let it register on my face.

Hermione shook her head. "She stayed out of it, smirking at us all. A couple of the DA tried to stun her anyway, but she deflected their spells easily," she said darkly, obviously annoyed to report this. "With that one exception, the DA pretty much wiped the floor with them." Hermione perked up at a specific memory. "I jinxed Pansy pretty well. She's still walking with a limp, and Madam Pomfrey hasn't been able to get her teeth to remain attached to her gums yet." Hermione gave a satisfied sigh. "She can't eat anything but soup and mashed food."

A vindictive Hermione? This was different. "What happened to the others? From the DA, I mean." Blaise silently sat down at a nearby table, listening in to our conversation. I was glad of the fact that the story being told was amusing, I'm pretty sure I couldn't have kept a smile off my face.

Hermione shrugged. "I only had to remove a bat-bogey hex from Lisa Turpin and cast an ennervation spell on Terry. The rest easily defended themselves against the Slytherins, and blew them away with the counter attacks. Remember that the Slytherins didn't have much in the way of practise last year during DADA."

"Too bad for them!" I said.

Ron grinned at me. "Yeah, the DA members really miss you, by the way. Anyway, Snape gave everyone still standing except Blaise a week of detention, and let his Slytherins off without even a slap on the wrist. Dumbledore stepped in behind his back and gave them identical punishments that Snape gave out."

"And you got to supervise the Slytherins at their detentions?" I asked Ron, absolutely flabbergasted.

"Yep. Malfoy wasn't too pleased either." Ron held up a hand in front of Hermione's face. "And yes, Hermione, I was completely professional, no matter what you heard. I didn't give into temptation at all." He turned back to me. "Blaise thought the whole thing was funny. Malfoy and Pansy were almost hissing when I pointed out when they'd missed a spot, and that they had to clean it again."

Blaise's shoulders were shaking. "What were they cleaning?"

Ron grinned. "Toilets. Blaise got into the spirit too, helping me out."

What do you mean?"

Ron grinned. "She started pointing out how bad they were doing too. You know, for a Slytherin, she's alright."

"Then how did you lose your prefect pin?" I asked in a desperate attempt to change the topic, since Hermione's expression was getting steadily darker throughout Ron's description of my Slytherin friend. Blaise herself looked a little shocked at Ron's thoughtful comment.

Ron smirked at me. "Malfoy and his goons attacked me the day before yesterday. Revenge, I s'pose, for making them actually work during a detention."

I looked Ron up and down, noting that he didn't appear to be carrying any injuries, and that he looked to be quite pleased with himself. "Things didn't go well for the ferret then, I take it?"

Neville gave an uncharacteristic snort. "Nope."

I blinked at him. "You were there too?"

Neville nodded. "Malfoy cast a curse at Ron from behind, but he heard it being cast. He did some ducking and weaving to dodge the spell, turned, and then he punched Malfoy so hard he broke the git's jaw." Neville smiled with unfocused eyes, obviously enjoying the memory by rerunning it past his mind's eye. "Goyle leapt at Ron, who just levitated Malfoy into his path. He cast a couple of leg-locking jinxes at them, and since their legs were tangled to start with, it stuck them together like glue on a couple of combs. Then Ron cast a banishing spell at them both, hurling them through a classroom door. Oh, he also covered them with some sort of slippery stuff. They couldn't stand up or hold onto anything to keep their balance. They kept falling onto each other." Neville blushed slightly. "A bit like the mud wrestling that you suggested at your party. Crabbe, on the other hand, tried to grab me in a headlock." Here, Neville's expression turned exasperated, and he started waving one arm wildly. "Why is it always a headlock? After what happened in Umbridge's office last year, I figured out what I could do though. I stuck my wand in his ear and cast a Sonorous charm."

"Neville! You ruined it for me!" Ron wailed.

"Oh, Ron, you were taking too long to tell the story," Ginny moaned.

I coughed. "Sorry, did you say that you cast a Sonorous charm into that gargoyle's ear?"

Neville nodded with a big smile on his face. "He ran around clutching the sides of his head, trying to squeal really, really quietly. From what Blaise told us afterwards, his heart beat was magnified about a thousand times in his ears."

"Ooo, nasty," I said, nodding appreciatively. Blaise nodded her head too, silently agreeing with me.

Luna finally entered the conversation, her dreamy expression still in place. "I imagine it was quite like a Chinese water torture, without the water."

Ron blinked and gave her a blank look. "Um. Yeah. Right." He turned back to me. "Anyway, the classroom I tossed Malfoy and his goon into was one McGonagall had a class in at the time. She went ballistic at me, and stripped me of my prefect pin."

I laughed out loud, with Ron, Neville and Ginny joining in. Hermione and Luna looked on with expressions of disapproval and serenity respectively.

"I told you that you would be able to get away with things that would normally get you banned from Hogsmeade weekends," Blaise said from the next table, once our laughter had quietened down.

Each of the Ministry Crew jumped to various degrees. Ron's reaction was the most vocal, Neville's was the most physical, and Luna's was the most intriguing. Hermione noticed my own lack of reaction and punched me in the arm. "You knew she was there!"

I nodded as Neville picked himself up off the floor and Luna pulled her head back through the neck of her jumper. "Of course. I thought she'd join you before you got here, but failing that, she'd follow you."

Blaise poked her tongue out at me, rose from her chair and dragged it over to our table. "Don't go thinking you can predict my actions, Potter."

Surprisingly, it was Ron who shifted over to allow Blaise space to sit. Both Hermione and Susan were guarded, for similar reasons, I suppose. Ginny and Neville were cautiously curious while Luna was her usual vague self. I certainly hadn't expected Ron to be the first of my friends to accept Blaise into the group.

She sat down between Ron and Neville. "Oh, and I thought I'd better give you some news. Malfoy is hunting for you. He's sure you'll appear in Hogsmeade this weekend."

I rolled my eyes. "That's not news, that's olds," I replied. "And I've been thinking on how to deal with him. Another round?" I asked the group, draining the last of my butterbeer. A chorus of nods answered me, and I rose to get the drinks. Passing Blaise, I put my hand on her slim shoulder and squeezed gently. "Thanks for coming, it's good to see you again."

She smiled up at me, but turned back to Ron. "What else did you get away with?"

The bartender gave me a long look, his eyes flicking up to my scar, before grabbing eight butterbeers from under the bar. He passed them to me and swept my coins from the bar top, depositing a handful of Knuts change. I put them in my money pouch, grabbed the drinks and returned to the table. "How's things at what was formerly known as the Ministry?" I asked.

Most of them silently accepted their drinks, but Ron refused to be quiet. "Ha! Fudge came around to the Burrow after your little rant in the paper, when Dumbledore was visiting. He and my parents were having a meeting when the little turd arrived."

"Ron!" gasped Hermione.

"What?"

"You can't call the Minister that!"

"Why not?" I injected. "He is short, so calling him 'little' isn't going to get him sued for slander."

Neville snorted into his butterbeer, while the other girls laughed out loud. Ron just grinned at me, and continued. "He was ranting and raving, shouting, 'How could he do this, Albus?' and 'They're being awarded with the Order of Merlin!'"

"Are we?" I asked Hermione.

She shook her head. "We were, but it takes a Ministry committee to consider our actions before they formally award them. Since the Ministry is in the middle of a shake up..."

Ron's grin got wider. "Believe it or not, Dumbledore actually took your side."

I frowned. "He did? What did he say?"

Ginny pipped up, mimicking Dumbledore's voice quite well. "You have brought this upon yourself, Cornelius! Had you not attempted to destroy his character, he may have proven more forgiving."

Ron gave Ginny a mock glare. "The argument went on for a while. Fudge said that you'd been forgiven, Dumbledore said that you obviously hadn't accepted it, and more to the point, that you obviously hadn't forgiven Fudge. Fudge said that you had to be contacted immediately in order to publicly recant, but Dumbledore said that was impossible, he didn't know where you were and that owls were coming back. Fudge accused Dumbledore of wanting to destabilise the Ministry, and Dumbledore rolled his eyes and said, 'Wonderful, we are back to square one again.'"

I laughed out loud, probably causing the other three occupants of the building to pay attention to us, but I didn't care. It appeared that Fudge hadn't learned his lesson, and that he was still in his usual hard-wired state in which he believed that anything bad was caused by a conspiracy.

"How's you Dad going?" I asked Ginny, hoping things weren't difficult for the financially strapped family.

Ginny gave Ron a look and lowered her eyes down to her butterbeer. "He's had offers from a lot of people to tell his story. The Lone Ministry Holdout, The Man With Honour. But he's turned them all down. Dad's not really into the whole fame thing."

I frowned at her evasive answer. "I assume something else is wrong then?" I said, noting that she wasn't particularly happy.

Ron shook his head, his smile gone. "He's involved in trying to prove the Ministry is still trustworthy. Since he was the only Department Head who spoke out against Fudge, he's being pulled in all sorts of directions by people who have different agendas. He's not used to the sort of power he has now."

I glanced between the two Weasley siblings, a mounting feeling of dread accumulating. "But things aren't going well, are they?"

Ginny shook her head. "He hasn't been paid in a month. Ever since you threw your hissy fit in the paper."

"Ginny!" snapped Ron. "It's not his fault! I'd have done the same in his shoes."

Gin again looked down, seemingly embarrassed. "Well, hardly any of the top Ministry people have been paid in a while. There's a theory running around that Fudge stopped all the high level pay, and is skimming money off other budgets and making payments under the table, but only to those who are loyal to him. It's in a effort to get all the disloyal people out of the way before the vote of no confidence can be held."

"Merlin, no! How are your parents coping?" I asked, dreading the answer. "Do they need help? I'd be happy to-"

Surprisingly, Ron smiled. "Forget about it mate. Most businesses are willing to take Dad's note, given he stood up to Fudge before your rant got published, and that the Ministry owes him. When he eventually gets paid what he is owed, he can pay them off. Anyway, Fred and George are helping out in the mean time, enough so that Ginny and I were able to buy new books and school equipment this year! Let me say that their shop is booming! I overheard them talking about opening a new one in Hogsmeade." He smiled at me. "Don't sweat it, Mum and Dad are fine. Well, except for the fact that Mum can't yell at the twins anymore for leaving Hogwarts to start their own shop."

Despite Ron's assurances, the guilty feeling didn't leave me. "What about the other Ministry workers? The ones without family members with successful shops? I didn't think this would happen!"

Ginny shrugged, looking too pleased for someone whose family was in financial chaos. "Most of the others that I know are handling it quite well. The goblins are extending credit for those who are publicly against Fudge, and Hogwarts itself waived the fees for students of parents who work for the Ministry. About the only family I know that is in trouble is Marrietta's."

I blinked. "The sneak?"

Ginny grinned viciously. "Yep. It's common knowledge that Marrietta betrayed you to Umbridge, and since Umbridge sent the dementors after you, a lot of people are blaming Marrietta's family for the trouble you've had. Few stores are giving them credit, and her mother is high enough in the Ministry to have her pay stopped, but not important to get hand outs from Fudge."

Hermione nodded firmly, apparently pleased too. "She came back to school with her acne still faintly in place. She hasn't been able to get rid of it completely yet. It's lasting longer than I expected."

"Well, she did put her name down willingly on the sheet, didn't she."

Hermione nodded. "You're probably right."

Ron turned from me to Hermione and back again. "Right about what?"

I grinned at him. "The fact that may well be her own magic that is maintaining the jinx. Until she comes to terms with what she did, she'll keep getting spots in that shape."

Susan frowned. "Couldn't one of the teachers fix it? Professor Flitwick should be able to get rid of something like that in seconds."

I smiled at the thought that occurred to me. "Probably. Umbridge was stuck with Fred and George's swamps, but Professor Flitwick managed to get rid of them in a second. But I wouldn't put it past the teachers to leave the magic in place, just to teach her a lesson. Remember, Umbridge undermined them too last year."

We left the Hog's Head, and made our way into Hogsmeade proper. Dozens of familiar faces called out to me in welcome, and I responded in kind. Despite being at least indirectly responsible for a fair number of student's parent's financial difficulties, I was greeted by all. I decided that meant that none of the newspapers were writing about me in derogatory terms.

A fair few of the DA joined us as we sat in one of the small parks, enjoying the gentle sunshine. A sudden stiffening in the posture of some of the Slytherin students in the group indicated the proximity of a certain ferret. Malfoy's obnoxious laughter could be heard over the local conversations, meaning he was definitely nearby. With a grin, I whispered in Ron's ear for a minute. He grinned as evilly as I'd ever seen, nodded, grabbed my bag and slipped away, disengaging himself from Susan's embrace.

A group of Slytherins, Malfoy in the lead, rounded a corner up ahead. The group was tossing a small doll between them, one of the Slytherins would occasionally punch it before tossing it to a friend.

Malfoy stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw me. A massive grin spread over his face. "Well, well, lads. Would you look at who decided to come out from his cupboard. It must have been smelly in there, since he has been shitting his pants for months now."

Crabbe, Goyle and the rest of Malfoy's posse burst into laughter, right on cue. I rolled my eyes, ignoring the muttering that was coming from my own group.

"Tell me something, Malfoy. When was the last time you didn't need someone to help you off the Hogwarts Express?" Hermione challenged.

"Yeah, did those slime stains ever come out?" jeered Ginny.

A dark expression flickered across Malfoy's face, but it was gone soon enough. "You caught me unawares, that's all."

I burst into laughter, along with a great many of my friends. "Malfoy, you were looking to catch me unawares. For someone so incompetent, I'm amazed your father even thinks you'd make a good Death Eater." I tilted my head to one side. "Let alone a long-lived Death Eater, considering how the Dark Wanker deals with those who fail him."

Malfoy whipped out his wand and began to scream an unintelligible curse, but Ron was quicker, since he didn't have to think about what he was going to do.

From under my invisibility cloak and from behind Malfoy's two walking behemoths, he cast "silencio," stopping the unusual curse in its tracks. Unable to complete the incantation, Malfoy's face reddened even further, putting him in danger of setting his hair on fire.

"Tut, tut, Malfoy. What on earth would Snape say? A Slytherin prefect, cursing someone while on a Hogsmeade weekend? In front of witnesses too! And losing, heaven forbid! Dear oh dear, if a complaint was made, well, he'd have no choice but to ban you from leaving Hogwarts in future. Oh, I suppose you could appeal to your father the governor. Oh wait, no you can't! He's in prison!" I taunted, giving Ron time to get away.

Malfoy snarled silently, glanced at Crabbe, and jerked his head in my direction. The hulking moron took two steps forward, before stopping and blinking in surprise. I glanced from side to side, and guessed there were in excess of twenty wands pointing towards him. The Slytherin group also drew their wands, which resulted in the rest of my group drawing their own.

"Isn't it interesting how Malfoy has been the catalyst for both recent magical battles between student groups?" I asked, stepping out in between the bristling battle lines. "Is he really worth it? Everyone in the potions lab got a week of detention because the little haemorrhoid couldn't control himself. Fighting out here could have far more imposing repercussions."

Slowly, one by one, the wands on both sides disappeared. Malfoy was glaring at me without bothering to conceal his hate. I sent him a smirk, designed to infuriate him into agreeing to anything just to salve his pride.

"What say you, Malfoy?" I asked, as a seventh year Slytherin had the presence of mind to remove the silencing charm. "Just the two of us, mano-en-mano. No one else, friend or house mate. No one else to get in trouble. No one else to break it up. We can finally find out just who is better."

He hesitated, something that was immediately noticed by both my friends and his housemates. A chorus of jeers erupted from behind me, and more than a few Slytherins behind Malfoy looked curious as to why he hadn't immediately accepted.

I held one hand up, and the group behind me quietened down. "He didn't agree because he knows that I'll beat him. He knows he doesn't have a chance."

"I could wipe my shoes on you, Potter!" he snarled.

I nodded, surprising him. "Of course you could." I waited until the gasps of shock from behind and the sniggers in front of me finished. "Of course, I'd have to be unconscious at the time, and since you don't have the skill to do that yourself..."

"When the Dark Lord catches you, he's going to make you squeal, just like your mudblood mother," Malfoy said, his voice trembling with hatred, and probably a touch of fear.

I buried the flash of anger. "At least I have a mother, Malfoy. You were produced when your father had a particularly pungent bowel movement," I said, to a bigger laugh from the crowd.

To say Draco's face coloured would be an understatement. He went from his usual pasty white to an ugly (well, uglier), splotchy purple. The air around him felt heavy, something I quickly recognised. It would appear that Malfoy was having some emotional trouble of his own.

With his anger fuelling his own magic, this could be an interesting confrontation.

"Fine!" he snapped, shrugging off his outer robes. "I'll kill you!"

"Get back!" I snapped myself, sending people from both sides scurrying away, leaving us in the middle of a clear, grassy area. "Clear the area behind me," I finished, and the gathering crowd bulged at our sides.

"You're dead, Potter," promised Malfoy.

I yawned. "If you could fight half as well as you can talk, you'd be ruling the world by now, idiot."

With a shriek of rage, he started hurling curses at me. Curses enhanced with his rage. Curses that sure as hell aren't on the Hogwarts' syllabus. Some of them he was tossing in my direction were capable of crippling me. Permanently.

Since I knew just how strong spells were when powered by powerful emotions, I did as little as possible to dodge Malfoy's efforts. Stopping them point blank with a shield charm would drain my energy too quickly, whereas gently guiding spells away behind me had the dual benefit of taking little effort and making Malfoy look incompetent. The fury etched into Malfoy's face reminded me of muggle cricket fast bowlers who have just had their best efforts casually nudged behind to the boundary.

Malfoy was obviously pissed off far more than I expected. The raw strength of the spells he was hurling at me meant that it took a great deal more effort than usual just to deflect them. Despite the power he was exhibiting, I quickly discerned a rhythm in his casting; one which allowed me some time to provoke Malfoy even further.

In one gap where he took a breath, I theatrically raised my left hand and glanced at my watch. Several titters in the ever-growing crowd followed my action, which, as planned, only raised Malfoy to even loftier heights of spluttering ire.

Despite his disintegrating wits, he didn't cast Serpensortia, which dismayed me a little. The restraining spells he tossed at me were dealt with easily, they had been one of the major topics of study in the DA. The hexes and jinxes were likewise countered, before their effects came to pass. It was the dangerous curses that I saved all my attention for.

Once Malfoy's aura began to weaken, I slowly advanced on him, causing more than a few cries of alarm in the ever-growing crowd. Not willing to be driven backward without my having cast a spell at him, Malfoy dug his heels in and continued to fire off spell after spell, weakening more each time. My plan required me to be close enough not to miss my target, or someone could get very hurt. Someone other than Malfoy, that is.

Once I was close enough to do what I had in mind, I waited for Malfoy to take a breath before shouting, "Everto veneficus!"

The ferret's wand, already overloaded with magic from the last few minutes, should have crackled and spat before fizzing out and dying like a spent muggle firework. Instead, it shrieked like a tree in a cyclone, then exploded with the force of a live muggle firework on Guy Fawkes Night. Splinters of mahogany rained down around the pair of us, while Malfoy looked down in shock at the remains of his hand.

'Remains' was a good word, very descriptive in this case. Not a single finger remained intact on Malfoy's right hand, and most of his palm had been shredded off the end of his arm in the explosion. His thumb hung loosely, like a flap of skin that had been peeled away. About ten centimetres of his forearm was blackened below the wrist, some of the soot now being washed away by the blood running down, dripping off his elbow.

With a forlorn shriek, Malfoy clutched at his destroyed right hand with his left, and collapsed on the grass.

I managed to keep the sudden sensation of horror I felt off my features by looking down at my own wand. "Whoops."

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