Transfiguration the following morning was one lesson everyone would enjoy, and he was right: Umbridge lurked in the corner with her clipboard and quill making notes and was promptly put in her place the first time she cleared her throat with that "hem – hem" cough of hers. Admittedly, Harry had done little to help matters and smooth the way as he cast a number of subtle charms at the toad that caused her to alternate between itching, laughing, and hiccupping through the first half of the double lesson. It was no surprise when Professor McGonagall finally threw the woman out of her classroom to seek aid in the hospital wing.
Harry flexed his left hand, "mischief managed," he muttered to Neville who barely managed to conceal his laughter. It became even more so when Umbridge reentered the room, and within minutes, seemed to be suffering from the trio of maladies all over again which prevented Umbridge from following Professor McGonagall around the class. In all fairness, it is unlikely that the Scottish Professor would have tolerated such a shadow.
Umbridge took a different tack in Care for Magical Creatures and wandered amongst the students, questioning them on magical creatures. Most people were able to answer well and Harry's spirits lifted somewhat; at least the class was not letting Hagrid down. Then questions about injuries sustained by the students arose. When Goyle gave a stupid grin, Crabbe and Ron were suddenly distracted by something and Malfoy hastened to answer the question, Harry and Neville both knew that Hagrid was in trouble. The end result was that Hagrid's past, involving Norbert, and Buckbeak took center stage and Umbridge's discomfort extend to include three Slytherins and a Gryffindor.
That evening, under the watchful eye of Griphook with his friends looking on, Harry cast the first of two Fidelius charms, securing the Residence, binding the secret within himself, before doing the same to the bank of sinks that house the staircase down to the Residence. It was not as if Harry wanted to kick Moaning Myrtle out of her home. More importantly, too many people knew about the bathroom so when it went missing, questions would have been asked. As the twins had jointly put it, "People are dumb enough, but one smart person, would defeat the purpose of this."
Homework complete, they were lounging around with their drink of choice when Ginny finally snapped out what they were all thinking, but unwilling to admit, "She's useless as a teacher and we aren't learning anything about Defense from her."
"And you propose what?" asked Neville, "we've already got a study group of our own and I think we'll do alright…"
"There's got to be more than just us six that want a passing grade or an OWL Nev!" she said, exasperated. Whether she was more exasperated with him, or the teaching was up for debate at that moment.
"While I agree with my dear sister…" began Fred,
"… it is a touch too late as she has the job…" continued George.
"…and Fudge will do everything in his power to make absolutely sure she keeps the job," concluded Fred.
"Perhaps the time has come," said Luna.
"Come for what?" asked Colin.
"Time for us to start preparing ourselves for what is out there, for what Harry has been saying for months is coming: War." She turned her gaze on Harry, "We can learn the jinxes, spells and curses out of books but most of us are beyond that, and most of us are also trained in various other things as well."
True enough, considering that all of them were decent Occulumens, Colin and Fred were also proficient at Legilimency and Ginny was developing an affinity with not only Geomancy and also battle healing. "You're saying we need to hire our own professor?" asked Harry.
"While you could afford one, that won't work, not if we intend to get more of the students involved," she said clearly, almost hesitant, "They will listen best so someone they know. Someone who has fought… Voldemort and lives to tell about it."
"Who, then?" said Harry, frowning at her.
She frowned, wondering if Harry was having her on, "Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about you, Harry."
"About me what?" said Harry.
"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense against the Dark Arts."
Harry stared at her. Then he turned to the others and found them actually giving what she was saying serious consideration. Harry grinned convinced this was a joke, "I appreciate the vote of overconfidence but I'm no teacher…"
"I'm the best in my year," said Colin quietly, "I know you're the best in yours."
"After the tournament," Ginny hesitated, "there is no doubt about that."
"Me?" said Harry
"Think on what you have done," said Luna quietly,
"What?"
"You know, for someone of such skill and power," mused Fred.
"Quite right," agreed George, "he can be a bit dense at times."
"Hermione, told me about the Philosopher's Stone," said Ginny, "your first year. I don't think I need to say anything about your second year do I?"
"Sent a hundred Dementors running in your third year," said Colin, "your Patronus is a minor legend around the castle."
"And last year…well…"
"Listen to me!" said Harry angrily, "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck! I had barely half a plan on everything! I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help ‐" there was a crackle of static and everyone tensed, ever so slightly, as eldritch energy began to build between Harry's fingertips, "I'm not a teacher! I got through all that because help came at the right moment, or I got lucky with a guess. I was blundering around and didn't have a single clue what the fuck I was about."
"Winky!" The house-elf appeared with a pop, and took in the scene: Harry with sparks leaping between his fingertips, everyone else pressed backward, trying to put as much distance between him and them as possible, she looked to Neville who had summoned her, nodded and vanished. Harry never even noticed, "I may have shown you what took place but you don't know! You can't know! None of you have ever had to face him! Memorize spells and cast? Are you fucking kidding me?" roared Harry.
The twins had surreptitiously cast a number of shields over the group and Colin was ready to let fly with a stunning spell if necessary, even if he knew it was not going to do more than unleash a firestorm, "…Diggory was stupid and he messed up! It could have just as easily been me! Fuck! It would have been me if Voldemort had no need of me!" He raved for another minute at least, hands gripping the back of his chair until the knuckles were bone white. He still trembled with rage, and there was smoke rising from the chair.
"Harry," the voice was like a soft ray of sunshine, "Nobody said anything about Cedric or Hermione," her voice was even, gentle, but firm, "This is exactly why they need you. They are trained, but they have no idea what a real duel involves. They don't know what it is like to face down Death Eaters, never mind Voldemort."
She was standing next to him, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, "They are right. They need you. More than that, your friends, your housemates need you. None of us can… they can only ask you to do something. They cannot make you do anything."
Harry could not think of anything to say. He was feeling slightly ashamed of his outburst, of laying it out for all of them, so plainly, so blunt and direct. His words, together with the memory of that night from the previous year, had made it all jarringly clear: This was not a game.
For the first time, he turned to look at her, "What do you think I should do?"
"Are you asking for my advice? Or for my opinion?" she said, gently massaging his shoulders and the base of his neck. Gradually he began to relax, and it was not long before he was slumped over the chair, "Or for what I honestly think?"
He looked up at her and smiled weakly, "All three?"
Fleur laughed and the tension broke at that moment, "My advice is that you should think about it, consider what they are asking you to do. My opinion is that they need a proper teacher and that you are the best available for it." Expertly she rolled his shoulder and the joint gave a resounding crack, "Honestly, they were right to ask you. But it is up to you to decide. Sleep on it; make a decision in a few days. It is still early enough in the school year."
"How did you get here?" he asked suddenly.
"Winky," she replied, "she found me in the manor, said you were on the verge of losing your temper."
"I'm gonna have to give that elf a raise too," he said.
Fortunately, the rest of the night passed without incident as one by one, different people said good night. It was unspoken, but everyone began gravitating towards the different bedrooms of the residence. Those who had lived there, the year before returning to their old rooms. New arrivals - specifically the Prank Masters and Mistress - Gred, Forge and Ginny found rooms that suited their liking. Fleur had not said anything, but none of them needed it spelled out for them: Fleur was not leaving him alone. It turned out to be a good thing: Dreams, of unknown origin, troubled his sleep for the first time.
It felt like he was back in the maze, back in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Instead of hedges, however, there were long corridors and locked doors no matter why the way he turned. Floors, walls and ceiling, all made of the same dark stone. There was no telling which way he was supposed to turn to find an exit. He did recognize one key detail however: The doors looked exactly like those at the ministry when he was there for his disciplinary hearing that summer.
He woke up with a start, covered in sweat, his scar prickling uncomfortably, and he knew instantly that was less than a good sign. "Harry?"
"I'm ok," he said quietly, "Sorry… didn't mean to wake you," He waved his hand with a sigh and began thawing out the iced over section of wall.
"Nightmare?" she asked. He shook his head, as he ended the spell, and vanished the puddle of water before it spread across the floor. He shook his head, "You going back to sleep?" she asked, "Or are you too awake to sleep?"
He stretched, almost cat like, "Too early to be awake," he half mumbled as he lay down and started to pull the blanket over himself when to his surprise, the blanket simply refused to move, "What the…" he turned over to face Fleur. The only light was a soft nightlight glowing in the far corner of the room, barely enough to throw faint half shadows across everything.
He mumbled a spell and a small globe of light rose from his hand, providing just enough light to illuminate Fleur, eyes closed and "asleep." Harry studied her for a long moment and leaned over, "Sticking charms don't mean you get to hog the entire blanket," he whispered into her ear, "now release my half of it," she cracked the hint of a smile, "or suffer the consequences."
She snored, she actually snored at him in response, "Very well then," said Harry, and he canceled the sticking charm with a "finite incantatem," and lifted the blanket with a simple first-year charm before showering the "sleeping witch" with a spray of snow from his wand.
Fleur was immediately shattered out of her pretended slumber with a loud, "Eep!" as she rolled out of bed and landed on the floor with a thud that had one Harry Potter sniggering uncontrollably as she cursed in French until she finally managed to untangle herself from the blanket.
"Harry. James. Potter." She towered over him, wand in hand, and Harry stopped laughing as he stared at her. The snow had melted, and soaked the silk chemise, making it cling to every single alluring curve of her body, "You, are about to pay," she raised her wand," for this transgression!" the fountain of cold water drenched Harry from head to toe, leaving him spluttering as he rose to his knees and tackled Fleur to the floor.
"You're not ticklish are you?" her eyes widened ever so slightly as her wand rolled out of reach. Her struggles to get free were the only encouragement Harry needed to turn a poke in the ribs into an all-out assault as laughter escaped Fleur.
Several minutes later, he released the breathless Veela both of them lying on the floor of the room, "See?" he said with a smile as he ran one hand down the side of her face, slowly, almost lovingly, "You could have saved yourself so much laughter if you'd just given me my half of the blanket back." He looked at her intently, and she saw it before she felt it. That, the flash of something… a mix of longing and desire? Or where her Veela senses wrong? Or, she reminded herself, she was getting overly optimistic.
Their faces were inches apart, him pinning her to the floor, and she had one leg hooked around his knee, just holding him in place. Water dripped from his hair, each drop like a pinprick of desire, from him to her. She looked up at him, staring into those dark green emerald eyes. Yes, it was there. Clear as day, for anyone to see, the emotional war going on with him. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back, pressing her body against his, making it clear, that he could have her if he wanted. "What am I going to do Fleur?" he whispered huskily.
She almost did it. She almost used her Veela traits. His guard was down and he could be made to take her. She berated herself for not doing so as he sat up. Intimacy, with another, still scared him. On the other hand, perhaps it had scarred him. She could not be sure which it was. He was not too sure either. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"Can't sleep," he grunted. True enough. He had not needed Legilimency to know the choice she had just made. He let his guard down around her. He trusted her. Moreover, she had done nothing to prove herself unworthy of such trust. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after five in the morning. He figured he had lost less than half an hour of sleep, "Might as well get up. You need anything?"
She almost said yes, but shook her head, "No," she was standing wand in hand as everything began to dry. She wanted nothing at that moment because it was aggravating and frustratingly clear that he still could not give her what she needed. For the moment, however, she was prepared to wait.
Life went on, about as normally as could be expected: Harry was having no difficulty in any of his classes except Potions where Snape continued to make his life hell, followed by Divinations, where he got along better with professor Trelawney, without really getting a better grasp of the subject matter. Harry absent-mindedly kept an eye on the Quidditch team and its practices. Ron had somehow made the house team, and Harry had bitten his lips, tongue, and then the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on that!
Considering that, Angelina had gone from yelling - according to the Twins and the new Seeker Ginny - doing "an excellent impersonation of mum in "Argentinean Silverback mode" on Ron after almost every practice. It made Harry wonder and he did his own investigation, wondering who really the better Keeper was. It turned out that Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both surpassed Ron by a fair margin, with Hooper possibly making a better Chaser than Keeper. All of it left Harry wondering what kind of magic had earned Ron a place on the team. Harry shook his head as he watched the team's last practice at the end of September and came to the only one possible conclusion: Gryffindor would not be winning the Quidditch Cup OR the House Cup this year.
He considered and cornered Ginny one night in the Common Room, "Gin," he almost laughed at the way her eyes bugged out when he handed her the Firebolt, "No sense in letting it gather dust. Go out there and kick some ass." Nights passed and none were the wiser that Harry rarely spent the night in the castle by using the Floo in the residence to go back and forth between Hogwarts and his manor to spend nights with Fleur when she could not make it to the residence.
A few nights later, they were once again gathered, working through their homework and Harry actually snickered as he realized things were a lot easier without having a semi-demented Quidditch Captain hanging over his shoulder. Harry had just put the last full stop on a two-foot-long essay about anti-venoms when Ginny asked him, "Have you given our… idea any thought?"
Harry did not answer at once, considering everything that he did think about the idea: It was either as insane as it sounded the first night he had heard it, and yet he had been thinking about his encounters, the spells, and found himself subconsciously planning lessons. "Yeah," I've given some thought."
"And?" prodded Colin.
"You all do remember what I said about it being luck, more than skill right?"
"Don't bother pretending you aren't the best at Defense," chided Neville gently. We know. We've seen what you can do. All of us are trained in some of the things you can do. All the skills and knowledge we have, it's because of you." He held up a hand to forestall the protest, "Yes the teaching wasn't done by you. Marinasha, Heartfang, Shekhailos, and all the Goblins taught us. But you were there to coach, poke, answer questions and prod us when we needed it. You can teach defense, dueling, the basics of combat strategy, and dueling tactics."
Harry looked around at his gathered friends, "You all want me to teach you?"
"Well… I think," said Luna, "you should teach anyone who wants to learn. This is about defense against a real enemy, in the real world. We should not keep this opportunity from others. All should be able to defend themselves."
Harry considered this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone would give a damn what I say or think. I'm a lunatic who needs a course of shock therapy at St. Mungos."
"It would surprise you how many people are interested in what you have to say," said Luna, "I just wish you'd reconsider about the article for The Quibbler. People are getting tired of reading the rehash of last year's stories."
Harry shrugged, "What do you want me to do Luna? You saw that night. The Wizengamot saw that night. They don't believe the truth, even when it's rammed down their collective throat." There was no arguing with that, "And I don't feel all that… comfortable talking about it."
"Tell you what," said Fred, changing the subject.
"…first Hogsmeade trip is…" continued George
"…the first weekend in October," concluded Fred.
"How about having everyone who's interested meet us in the village?" they chorused.
"Least we'd get a better idea of numbers," said Luna.
"And we're going to need to find a place to do this," said Colin, "I don't think that we could do much here."
Harry nodded, "I don't feel like sharing this place either."
Headmaster Dumbledore eased himself back in his chair, sucking on a lemon drop as he contemplated his next course of action, watching the replay of his memories from the previous year when Harry had physically assaulted him through the events of the summer and redrew the same conclusions he had previously drawn. Harry was walking down a dark and dangerous path and the boy must be brought back under his direction and control. The how of it remained the problem. Quidditch could have served as a way to mend the rift, but even after persuading Angelina to make Ron Keeper, he had not foreseen Dolores's input that had seen Harry quit the team!
What worsened the situation was Ron's position as an oathbreaker to Harry and his allegiances in Slytherin, a true wild card. Sirius… there had been neither a word from him nor a sighting of him since he disappeared during the previous year. Hagrid was still with Madame Maxime, attempting to make some kind of headway with the Giants but that was a fools' errand, and he knew it. As if that was not bad enough, the boy had actually subverted members from his own organization.
How in the world did the Weasleys, Lupin, and Lovegood think that they had a better chance siding with a 15-year-old wizard? Harry had recruited some of the best and brightest to his cause and they still stood by him, but he was Albus Dumbledore! Leader of the Light! Vanquisher of Grindenwald!
Popping another lemon drop in his mouth, he composed a brief note to Mundungus Fletcher. The first Hogsmeade weekend was coming up, and Fletcher would be Harry's shadow for the day. He needed something to get himself back in Harry's good graces, or something to hold over the boy.
The departure of Harry and his friends was delayed by Filch, scanning the students as they left the castle, which was a subject of amusement on their walk to Hogsmeade, "As if we would smuggle something out of Hogwarts!" said George with a snort.
"He should be worried about what we try to bring in!" agreed Fred.
"Well…. You two do owe me a Hogwarts toilet seat," said Harry suddenly, "Dumbledore mentioned you tried to give me one at the end of my first year." In high spirits at getting not only out of the castle but also away from Umbridge's creeping, snarky presence, there was another surprise when the teens ran into Blake and Remus, apparently "stopping in" for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. "I wanted to talk to you about something Harry," said Blake, "Well, we wanted to talk to you about something."
He eyed the pair of marauders cautiously, "Do I need to alert the Prank Masters that a war is about to begin?" He smirked with a raised eyebrow.
"Not quite," said Blake mildly, "But we got an interesting letter from Neville, about you having teaching aspirations." Insightful as always, Neville had slipped off to the bathroom a few minutes prior, leaving one empty seat and his butterbeer unattended.
"We were wondering if there was anything we could do to help?" replied Remus.
"Aw… hell," said Harry, "I ain't decided if I am going to teach, let alone know how many I might wind up teaching."
"Thing is," said Colin hesitantly, "I've sounded out most of the fourth years in our house, and well, word spread. Fourth years alone… twenty students total."
Ginny chose that moment to add, "Add another twelve from my year."
"Twenty-eight across the Sixth and Seventh years," chorused the twins.
Neville sat down hesitantly under Harry's burning gaze, "You've got thirty from our year: Everyone from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and most of Ravenclaw too." The young man toyed with his butterbeer for a moment, and then vanished its contents and waved to Madame Rosemerta for another, much to the amusement of everyone at the table. He did not even break a sweat, "I left a drink unattended in the presence of The Prank Masters Generals - all three of them. Did you actually think I would drink it?"
Laughter broke the tension of the moment, but Harry could not let it go, "Seventy students," he said, "out of six hundred… could have been worse I suppose."
"Where are you planning on meeting your potential or actual recruits?" asked Blake. Harry realized that was a damn good question. Harry stared at Blake who met his gaze without flinching, "They want to learn from you and that means they believe you. They will follow you if need be."
The battery of charms was cast by four different individuals, ensuring that the conversation was private and secure, "For Legion?" asked Neville." Blake nodded, "Makes sense." They had spent a summer afternoon trashing out the name of whatever it was that Harry was building, his own organization. They had been unable to agree and settled on just calling in "Legion" for now.
Harry thought about it: Seventy teenage wizards, without full wands rights, against Death Eaters, Giants, Boggarts, Dementors, Inferi, and everything else a demented Dark Lord could get his hands on. "I can teach them to fight… but not to kill," he said with a breath, "But I can teach them to defend and to be smart and run like hell." His eyes bore a hard edge to them, "Reasonable?" As a group, they knew better than to push him, "Where are we meeting?"
"I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit… you know… dodgy… but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard," said Luna.
The door swung open and all traffic stopped for a long moment and in that instant, Harry already had his wand in his hand before he could even take in the sight before him. "God damn, she looks good," thought Harry as he slipped his wand back into its holster before working his way through the array of gawking students towards her. She gave him a smile that simply lit up the room as he pulled her into a brief hug that raised more than a few eyebrows at the table, "What are you doing here?" he asked.
She froze for a moment herself, wondering what had triggered the sudden change in him given that they were not only with friends and family but also in full view of the public, including more than a few students from Hogwarts who were busy staring. Then he did the unthinkable and actually kissed her. It was a mere brush across the lips, but it almost had her swooning. Weak in the knees, she grabbed onto his arms for a moment to steady herself, before she could answer the question, "Just… wanted to seeyou, especially since you weren't coming… home for the weekend."
He smiled, "I'm glad you're here." Oblivious to the crowd of now buzzing students, the group left the Three Broomsticks and walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop. At the post office, Blake and Remus both left the teens to themselves and their plans with a few final words of advice. The teens turned up a side street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.
"Hey! Don't go getting cold feet on me now! This was not my idea!" Harry pushed open the door and led the way inside.
It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head comprised one small, dingy, and a very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Harry stepped onto it he realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.
Harry remembered Hagrid mentioning this pub in his first year, "Yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hogs Head," he had said, explaining how he had won a dragon egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time, Harry had wondered why Hagrid had not found it odd that the stranger kept his face hidden throughout their encounter; now he saw that keeping your face hidden was something of a fashion in the Hog's Head.
There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows and Harry might have thought them Dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.
"I don't know about this, Luna," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"
She turned, casting an appraising eye over the veiled woman, while three others surreptitiously palmed the wands. "Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly, "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us."
"That much she's right about," said Colin, "double-checked with McGonagall and she says any kind of study group or homework club is legal. Then I triple-checked with Flitwick: There is no rule about us meeting anywhere in Hogsmeade."
The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy‐looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry, "What?"
"Butterbeer, three bottles," said Colin, refusing to be cowed in the slightest.
The barman sized him up for a long moment and then nodded, imperceptibly, seemingly impressed with Colin's courage, "Six Sickles, and I ain't selling any of you kids anything stronger."
"I'll have a Fire Whiskey," challenged Harry. The Barman's eyes traveled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on the scar over his forehead, before pulling down a bottle and pouring out a single measure. Harry dropped a Galleon on the counter and the bartender's eyes widened "Leave the bottle."
Harry held the glass up to the light and channeled his magic, chilling the glass before taking a sip of what the label claimed was "Ogden's 36 Year Single Malt." The whiskey burned the back of his throat and left a trail of fiery tendrils into his stomach. Everyone else eyed Harry, as he poured out a second measure, considering there were at least another two measures in the bottle. "So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, chilling the second measure.
There was a sudden crush of people struggling to enter. Dean and Lavender were followed closely by Pavarti and Padma Patil. Cho was accompanied by her usual gang of giggling girlfriends. Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, followed by Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch‐Fletchley, and Hannah Abbott. A Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot. And on they came, "Bloody hell guys," said Harry, "you told me seventy, not the whole fucking school."
Harry turned to the bartender who had his mouth hanging open, and no wonder. He doubted the place had ever been so packed before. He dropped ten galleons on the bar, "Butterbeer all round."
Fortunately, the influx of students strove to drive many of the other patrons from the bar, except for the veiled witch. He eyed her critically, wondering for a long moment before deciding against literally raping the person's mind. However, he doubted that there was anything he could do, legally to get her to leave - at least not legally anyway. Moreover, the next Hogsmeade weekend was too far off… waiting so long would defeat the purpose of trying to get a study group started. He eyed the witch again and shook his head, they were going to have to make do with what they had. "Charms in place," said Neville quietly. Harry nodded and just stood, leaning against the bar, and waited.
When everybody was seated on a chair or table, the chatter died out as all eyes turned on Harry. He stood, drained his glass, and took a deep breath. He looked around the room at the ocean of faces, "See a lot of faces here. So I have to ask you: Why are you here?"
They looked like a bunch of deer caught in the headlights, "Are you here because you want to get an OWL in Defense against the Dark Arts?" there was a scattering of murmured agreement, some nodding heads. "Are you here, because you want to learn how to fight?" this was greeted by silence, "If you want to learn Defense, then the first thing you need to learn is that the best defense is a good offense. That means you need to learn how to fight and be prepared for what's out there."
"You're talking about Voldemort?" whispered Cho Chang.
His gaze was predatory as he locked eyes with her, "Yeah. I am."
"Where's your proof that he's back?" the challenge came from someone in Hufflepuff, and Harry realized at that moment why so many of them were here: They wanted to hear his story first hand.
"You gotta name?" countered Harry, playing to the crowd.
"Terry Boot."
"Ok Terry," he replied evenly, "You need proof. I can give you proof: Cedric Diggory, was… is my friend. Hermione…Granger," he stumbled over the name, and had to take a breath to calm himself, "was my girlfriend." That was harder to say than he ever thought possible, "How many of you know what kind of wand I have? Come on, don't be shy. Simple question. What kind of wand do I have?"
It took a few minutes but the room came back with the consensus that it was Holly and Phoenix Feather. "Anybody here knows the wand of Hermione Granger?" That took a few minutes longer and nobody was really sure, "It's OK. I know: Ten and three-quarter inch vine wood with dragon heartstring." Harry produced the wand he had been using since the end of the Third Task, and pointed it towards the ceiling, "By life, and by my magic," he intoned, "may I be struck down if I tell a falsehood. I Harry James Potter, bearer of the wand of Hermione Jane Granger, so swear that I saw the rebirth of Voldemort, dueled him and escaped with my life, this wand, the wand of Cedric Diggory, and…" he chocked for a moment before pushing on relentlessly, "the body of Hermione Jane Granger."
A glow enveloped him for a moment, and then faded, "I'm sure all of you are familiar with an oath made upon a wizard's own magic." He chuckled darkly, "And I'm still standing here." He paused to let that sink in, "That's what makes me say Voldemort," he ignored the shudder that ran through the group, "is back. If that isn't enough, nothing is going to be. And I ain't going to waste my time trying to convince you." He didn't need to add where the door was or what they should do if they didn't believe him.
The thought of doing something similar to wake up the wizarding world had not only crossed his mind, but also those of Marinashka and even Griphook, at his trial. But they had both shot the idea down, citing that the ministry would use it as proof of his insanity… so far gone he "completely believes his own insane ranting." The prophet had done too much damage by that point for anything Harry said to be taken seriously.
"So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to ‐"
"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?" There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.
"For fuck's sake," said Harry, "Expecto Patronum!" Prongs burst forth from his wand, as solid as ever but did not charge. It merely stood its group, snorted once, and looked to Harry, then seemed to lean against the bar, as if waiting for something, "Maybe he wants a butterbeer…" he thought.
The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat. However, he now had everyone's undivided attention. "So here's the deal. You want to learn defense. That's fine. But the first thing you need to know is that I've had a lot of help from a lot of people. So it's going to take time to –"
"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said a blonde boy at the back of the room.
"Here's an idea," cut in Fleur acidly before he could react, "Why don't you shut your mouth?" she was clearly about to hex the speaker when Harry took her hand in his. She glared at him as he shook his head. She turned to the speaker, "In case you all forget, I was there. I was in the tournament. I… have nightmares about what happened. And I stand by him, still."
"Well said," said Luna serenely, "moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?" There was a murmur of general agreement, even though blondie had his arms up and folded across his chest, keeping a close eye on Fleur. "Then we need to find a time that suits everyone."
"Now the last thing on the agenda," said Luna, "Does anybody know a place in the castle we could use to practice?"
"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Harry, "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting. Just remember this: What we are doing, what we will do, cannot get out, to anyone not here. If word gets out, there's no telling what could happen. Not just to me, but to all of us."
It was clear that they were done. With those words, the group began to break up in twos and threes, going their separate ways as Harry, surrounded by friends made their way back into the sunlight. "Harry?" Fleur nodded discreetly towards the bar.
"Wha.. oh yeah," he snapped his finger at Prongs who vanished in a puff of silvery smoke. "Could I escort you to lunch?" he asked Fleur.
"You may," she replied, "I heard, but never had the opportunity to visit Madame Puddifoots…"