Year 5-07: Protests and Provocations

Harry was unable to break the good news to Katie after successfully completing his three O.W.L.'s, so he decided to surprise her instead. He walked with her after breakfast on Monday morning to her first class, casually chatting with her as she lined up with her classmates outside the Defense classroom.

"Shouldn't you be going?" Katie asked anxiously as the bell rang. "Won't you be late for class?"

"I think I'm right on time," Harry winked. "I've had a slight change in schedule, you see."

Katie processed this for a moment, then a grin broke out across her face. "You passed?!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a hug. "Congratulations!"

A few surrounding sixth-years offered their own well-wishes – word had spread by now that Harry was being allowed to complete his O.W.L.'s early, and no one had been surprised. However, silence quickly settled as the classroom door opened – Percy did not like chatter in his class, and the sixth-years filed in silently to take their seats.

Harry lingered in the back until everyone else was seated, then selected an empty desk near the front to sit at. Percy Weasley immediately spotted him and frowned.

"Mr. Potter, I do believe you are in the wrong classroom," said Percy. "This is my sixth-year N.E.W.T. level class."

"I'm in the right place, Professor," said Harry politely, brandishing his new schedule. "I've tested out of O.W.L. level early."

"Preposterous," Percy scoffed, snatching the slip of paper to see for himself. "Why would they let you do that?"

"They felt I was ready," Harry shrugged. "And I got an 'Outstanding', so I think they were right."

"Is that so?" Percy said, crossing his arms. "Tell me then, Potter: what was the significance of the 1753 Budapest Accords for classifying dark magic?"

"No clue," Harry shrugged.

"How unfortunate," Percy tutted mockingly. "Considering that's in the very first chapter of the sixth-year textbook all of your classmates have already read."

"I haven't got the book yet, Percy," Harry groaned. "How do you expect me to know that already?"

"Language, Potter!" Percy said indignantly. "And for the last time, it's Professor Weasley! Five points from Ravenclaw for your attitude."

Harry badly wanted to retort, but he knew it would only get him (and possibly his father) into more trouble. There was simply no winning with Percy: either Harry said something out of line and got in trouble, or kept to himself as the redhead poked and prodded at him until he lashed out again. Thursdays were quickly becoming Percy Weasley Night in his weekly schedule, as he spent that evening in detention more often than not.

"Professor Weasley was more unpleasant than usual today, wasn't he?" remarked Cho Chang as the Ravenclaws ate lunch later that day.

"It's my fault," Harry said apologetically to the other sixth-years nearby. "He has it out for me and my Dad. We think Fudge assigned him here to keep an eye on me and Dumbledore."

"Well, of course he has," an airy voice drifted down the table towards them. Everyone turned to see Luna Lovegood clutching a copy of The Quibbler. "Father has been reporting on it for weeks now."

"Thanks wonderful of him, Luna, but I'm not so sure that Professor Weasley has a subscription to The Quibbler," Harry chuckled.

"Maybe he ought to," snorted a seventh-year boy. "It's the only rag worth paying attention to nowadays, what with the Daily Prophet selling its soul to Fudge."

That surprised Harry to hear, as did the varied murmurs of assent from around the table. Curious, Harry asked Luna to borrow her copy of the Quibbler, eyebrows raising when he saw his father's face plastered across the front page:

WHAT THE MINISTRY DOESN'T WANT YOU TO KNOW ABOUT AUROR POTTER!

By Xenophilius Lovegood, Editor-in-Chief (The Quibbler)

'Readers of the Daily Prophet will no doubt have heard tall tales of James Potter's misdeeds within the Ministry of Magic over the past year. Like you, my dear reader, I question the motives behind these baseless attacks of character and attempts to slander the name of a man who, by all accounts, has comported himself with the utmost dignity and concern for his fellow witch and wizard.

Potter made a name for himself during the Wizarding Wars of the 1970's, fighting against the Dark Lord You-Know-Who. His wife, Lily Evans-Potter, is a talented fighter and potioneer in her own right, and according to current Hogwarts students, their two children Harry and Dahlia (contrary to the Prophet's reporting) are talented and well-respected by their peers. By all accounts, they are the ideal family every wizarding household should model themselves after.

So why does the Prophet insist on dragging the Potters' name through the mud? Is it because of the 'radical' changes Potter has proposed within the Ministry to improve the lives of witches and wizards all over Britain? Is it because he has the gall to join Albus Dumbledore in proclaiming the threat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to the Isles once more? Is it because Minister Fudge and his band of sycophants see him as a threat to their lofty positions of corrupt power? I would argue that it is all of the above: Potter represents everything that the old guard of the Ministry hates, forcing them to change their ways for the first time in centuries.

For too long, witches and wizards with Muggle parentage have struggled to find their place in wizarding society. The old pure-blood houses have established a vice grip on our nation's politics, and the Wizengamot is all too happy to let them do as they please at the expense of everyone else. Perhaps it is time for a change. Perhaps Auror Potter is a man we should be praising rather than maligning. I intend to get to the bottom of the recent slander and determine why, exactly, the Ministry is so afraid of one man simply trying his best to do the right thing.

For more on Auror Potter's vision for magical society, see pg. 38.

For our continued coverage on diricawl mating patterns, see pgs. 2-37.'

Harry set the paper down thoughtfully. He hadn't heard from Xenophilius Lovegood in nearly a year, when he gave an interview about the Triwizard Tournament. He assumed the man had deemed his time was better spent elsewhere, but clearly Luna's father had been hard at work defending the Potters with his own publication. It filled Harry with gratitude for the eccentric man.

And glancing around the Great Hall, Harry noticed that he was not the only student in possession of The Quibbler. Several others were also perusing the magazine, mostly older students, and Harry doubted they were doing so to learn more about diricawls. Harry even noticed Professor Sprout reading the article up at the Head Table, right next to Percy Weasley, who had a sour expression on his face as he picked at his plate. It was rare to feel supported by his fellow students, and Harry was pleasantly surprised to not be the school pariah yet again.

Even a busy schedule for the rest of the week could not diminish Harry's enthusiasm. He finally had classes to look forward to again, classes in which he could actually learn new things. Flitwick and McGonagall seemed to pick up on his renewed vigor for learning, as they called on him often in his subsequent N.E.W.T. lessons to gauge his understanding of the material. It took him a bit longer to grasp some of the more advanced concepts, but that was alright with him – he hadn't been challenged by course work in quite some time, and he relished in it.

He also had his first Quidditch match to look forward to against Slytherin on Saturday. He'd been pushing the team hard over the past few weeks, and felt confident that they had a team capable of winning the Cup this year. Slytherin was an ideal first match-up, as Harry felt that both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would put up a tougher fight. He knew Malfoy's flying style inside and out, and none of the other meatheads on the squad gave him much cause for concern.

In his previous timeline, he used to dread the lead-up to matches, especially against Slytherin. The trash-talk in the halls and at meals was ratcheted up to eleven, with students from the opposing House making snide remarks at his expense in passing. Now, Harry welcomed the hate – it fueled him, made him look forward to the chance to obliterate his enemies on the pitch. He no longer feared his peers...if anything, their veiled threats made him laugh, as if any of them could come close to harming him if they wanted to.

The team was in good spirits as they got dressed in the locker room on Saturday morning. Harry ran them through their last-minute strategy adjustments until Madam Hooch came to fetch them. The team filed into the tunnel and began to mount their brooms, but Madam Hooch stopped them.

"You'll be walking onto the pitch today," she instructed the Ravenclaws. "There will be a pre-game ceremony before the match begins."

What is this? Harry wondered, as the team followed Madam Hooch on foot towards center field. What kind of ceremony could it possibly be? It wasn't like this was a championship match – what would warrant such pomp and circumstance?

The Ravenclaws lined up shoulder to shoulder at center field as instructed. The Slytherins filed out soon after, sneering and shooting dirty looks at their opponents. They too lined up at midfield, staring down the opposition a dozen feet away.

"Welcome everyone, to today's Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw!" Lee Jordan exclaimed over the cheering crowd. "Today, we are graced by a very special guest. Here to perform the ceremonial Quaffle toss is none other than the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge!"

The raucous crowd suddenly went deathly quiet as the portly man waddled out onto the field, beaming and waving towards the stoic crowd above. Harry's blood chilled as he watched a photographer hustle out onto the field behind Fudge, realizing what was happening. He's using this as a photo op to win support, Harry thought. He must really be desperate for good press right now.

Fudge took center stage and placed his wand to his throat to amplify his voice. "Thank you, everyone!" he announced cheerily. "I wanted to use this opportunity to celebrate the bright future of wizarding society and applaud our youth. The future has never been brighter or more prosperous for Wizarding Britain, and I look forward to seeing what each and every one of you contributes to our world when you graduate!"

He paused for applause, but none came. Harry was surprised to see the vast majority of students, of all Houses, leering suspiciously at Fudge. It was quite obvious what they all thought of the man, and of what the Daily Prophet was saying (or not saying) about the war they were so desperate to deny. It filled him with sudden warmth and confidence that things might go better than they had in his original fifth year.

"Good luck to both teams!" Fudge said after his awkward pause. He then went down the row, shaking hands with each of the Slytherins before moving on to Ravenclaw. Every student gave him a quick handshake and a nod, until Fudge stopped in front of Harry. He extended his hand, but Harry did not move a muscle, his arms folded firmly behind his back.

"Quickly now, Potter!" Fudge chuckled nervously under his breath as the photographer lurked over his shoulder. "Show some respect to your superiors!"

"I don't respect liars, Minister," Harry muttered, just loud enough for Fudge to hear. The Minister blanched, swallowing heavily as the photographer realized what was happening and snapped a series of quick photos of the gaffe. Fudge quickly retreated back to midfield as the crowd above murmured curiously about what had just transpired.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and took to the sky, indicating for both teams to follow suit. Harry's teammates gave him curious looks as Ravenclaw and Slytherin both set up for the face-off. Harry merely shrugged and turned his attention to the enemy.

"Think you're too good for the Minister, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Or do you really think your pathetic excuse for a father will take his job?"

"I could ask you the same," Harry smirked. "How's Daddy doing? Still in the doghouse after misplacing his master's diary?"

Malfoy's eyes went wide at Harry's retort. Clearly he hadn't expected Harry to know so much about the state of affairs behind the scenes.

Madam Hooch handed Fudge the Quaffle so that he could officially begin the match. But as he prepared to do so, a loud bang issued from the stands, causing everyone to flinch. However, the offender was a small collection of fireworks, lighting up the student section with large, glittering letters: 'LET'S GO POTTER!'

"Yeah, Harry!" Fred Weasley shouted.

"Kick Slytherin's arse!" George echoed.

The students roared in appreciation for this display. Even a few Slytherins seemed to be joining in. Harry realized with a jolt that this was not just about him – this was a protest move against Fudge, against the Ministry's meddling in both the press and the school.

Fudge once again looked cowed by the outburst. He shook it off and tossed the Quaffle up into the air – much more in the direction of Slytherin's Chasers than Ravenclaw's, Harry noted.

"And we're off!" Lee Jordan shouted excitedly. "It's Montague with the Quaffle, dodging past Chang, passing off to Pucey—"

Harry tailed Malfoy up the pitch from a distance, as the blond boy zoomed off towards the opposing goalposts. Harry seriously doubted he'd seen the Snitch, and didn't want to fall for any obvious feints. Besides, his Firebolt would be able to catch up to Malfoy's Nimbus 2001 as long as he remained within a reasonable striking distance.

Harry sensed trouble incoming and ducked, a split second before a Bludger whizzed past his ear from behind. The crowd gave a collective groan at the close call, before applauding lightly for Harry's dodge.

"Didn't think we'd give you a free pass today, did you, Potter?" Malfoy taunted as he swooped past. "You'll be face-down in the grass long before the third Snitch appears."

Harry should have figured this would be the Slytherins' approach. They would be equally incentivized to embarrass Harry as they would be to win, as most of the players were related to Death Eaters who were no doubt part of the shadow campaign to unseat Harry's father from power. And knowing Malfoy and his goons, they would be fighting dirty.

Harry ducked low under another Bludger, which sent him spiraling downwards towards the developing Chaser play. Slytherin was setting up defenses against the Ravenclaw assault, so Harry swerved left to avoid the path of the Quaffle. However, at the last second, Montague cut hard to his right, slamming his shoulder into Harry and nearly knocking him off his broom completely.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle at once. "That's a foul!" Lee Jordan cried indignantly as the crowd roared in agreement. "And that'll be a penalty shot for Ravenclaw."

Montague gave Harry a half-hearted shrug and a sneer before returning to midfield. Harry could only roll his eyes and shake off the soreness in his arm as Cho put the penalty shot through to give them a 10-nil lead. Harry had a feeling this was only the beginning of the nastiness he was in store for today.

And he was right. Over the next fifteen minutes he was twice 'accidentally' kicked in the side by a passing Chaser, shoulder-checked into the stands by Malfoy, or else nearly hit by a Bludger sent his way long after the whistle. Ravenclaw racked up a quick 60-0 lead thanks to the excessive penalty shots – all before the first Snitch had even appeared.

"Having fun yet, Potter?" Malfoy taunted as play resumed once more.

"Almost," Harry shouted back. "Come and give me another kiss and I'll let you know." Malfoy gave him a nasty look and shot away at this remark.

Luckily, Harry spotted the first Snitch soon after. He rocketed after it, easily barrel-rolling to avoid Goyle's Bludger before snatching the golden ball out of the air.

"And that's the first Snitch going to Potter!" Lee shouted excitedly as the crowd cheered appreciatively. "Giving a dominating 110-0 lead to the blue and bronze!"

Harry casually dropped the Snitch at midfield, while simultaneously spinning away from yet another late Bludger hit his way. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and flew up to Crabbe, yelling hoarsely at him to no avail. Harry didn't care – he simply returned to his position to wait for play to resume. He wouldn't let these pests get under his skin, not when they were the least of his worries.

Malfoy was right back in his ear as the second period began. "Have you made plans for after your father's sacking?" he mocked. "Hope you enjoy the outdoors, because you'll be seeing it a lot more when your family is out on the streets!"

Harry ignored the boy, zooming ahead to search for the Snitch uninterrupted. Nothing Malfoy could say would have any impact on his play.

"Can't promise your dad will stay out of Azkaban, though," Malfoy continued as he hurried to catch up. "Father reckons he can drum up some charges based on the treason he's been committing behind the scenes."

"Wanna take bets on whose father winds up in Azkaban first?" Harry fired back.

"Real cute," Malfoy sneered. "You might fancy yourself powerful now, but just wait and see what happens when—"

Harry didn't hear the end of Malfoy's taunt, as he had launched into a steep dive after the second Snitch. Malfoy swore and took off after him, but he was miles behind. It was only seconds later that Harry emerged triumphant with the second Snitch as the crowd roared.

"And the rout continues!" Lee Jordan shouted with glee. "Ravenclaw leads 170-0!"

Harry winked and blew a small kiss at Malfoy as he returned to midfield. The blond looked beside himself with fury, and Harry took great joy in watching him stew in his mediocrity. You're nothing to me anymore, Draco, Harry thought about his former rival and now inferior. And to think you were once able to get under my skin…

Harry should have known better than to underestimate a Malfoy.

"Wonder what your poor Mudblood mother will do once your father is out of the picture?" Malfoy shouted as Harry began searching for the third Snitch. "Can she even hold a wand properly without a big strong Auror to help her?"

Harry simply rolled his eyes – if Draco thought insulting Lily's intelligence would hit home, he clearly didn't know her at all.

"Course, she's probably more skilled in holding other things," Malfoy went on. "Bet she'd fetch a pretty penny working the corner in Knockturn Alley."

"Watch it," Harry growled menacingly. The malicious grin that spread across Malfoy's face at this rebuke was unmistakable – he knew he'd struck a nerve.

"On second thought," said Malfoy, "she might be too old for their tastes. Maybe your sister would have better luck?"

Harry saw red. He trembled on his broom, squeezing the handle tightly, imagining his hand to be around Malfoy's throat instead as he forced himself not to respond.

"Maybe I'll throw a few Sickles her way to take pity on her," Malfoy sighed dramatically. "I bet Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't mind passing her around either—"

Harry suddenly entered another dive, rocketing toward the pitch once more. He heard Malfoy zoom after him, fighting to keep up, not wanting to get embarrassed for a third straight Snitch. Harry extended his arm, feeling Malfoy approach from behind as they rapidly plummeted towards the ground…

Harry pulled out of his dive abruptly, his toes skimming along the grass as he leveled his broom. Malfoy did the same just behind him, yanking up on his handle just in time to avoid hitting the ground. But he was unable to avoid Harry's boot heel, which came up to kick him hard in the ribs and knock him askance, tumbling off his broom and onto the pitch. He bounced painfully across the grass for several seconds before landing flat on his face and moving no more.

A great uproar rose from the crowd as Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "Ooh, a nasty foul there by Potter!" Lee Jordan winced. "Malfoy's going to be feeling that one until Christmas! Oh, and it looks like Potter is being ejected!"

Sure enough, Madam Hooch pointed to Harry and them to the locker room, indicating that his day was done. Harry couldn't care less. He landed clearly on the ground and marched proudly towards the locker room, passing Madam Pomfrey as she hurried out to attend to Malfoy. He deserved that and much more, Harry justified it to himself as he left the pitch.

He changed back into his normal robes as he waited for the third period to conclude with the substitutes. Roughly twenty minutes later, the Ravenclaws filed into the locker room after him, looking windswept but pleased with themselves.

"Two hundred forty to ten," Cho announced, waving the third Snitch happily for Harry to see. "They all but gave up after Malfoy was carted off."

"What the hell did he say to you?" asked Terry Boot. "You looked like you wanted to kill him."

"He got off easy," Harry huffed. The team merely shrugged and began to change out of their uniforms.

The doors to the locker room banged open, and a number of staff members barged in, led by Professor McGonagall. "What on earth were you thinking, Mr. Potter?" she demanded, her harsh faced scrunched in fury. "That was an egregious act of violence against Mr. Malfoy!"

"He made disgusting remarks about my family," Harry spat. "Including my sister."

"You can always report such behavior to the staff after the match," McGonagall chastised him. "There was no place for such a vulgar display in the middle of a game!"

"Hear hear," Percy Weasley piped up. "I think we ought to revoke some privileges from Mr. Potter for his actions. Perhaps a one-game suspension, and no Hogsmeade privileges next weekend?"

"His punishment will be up to his Head of House," McGonagall snapped, waving her hand towards Professor Flitwick. "But were it up to me, he would be off the team entirely!"

Flitwick surveyed Harry with a mixture of disappointment and pity. "A month's worth of detention should serve as appropriate deterrent," he sighed. "And I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to revoke your captaincy."

Harry's heart sank a bit at this news, but he could hardly argue it. If anything, he deserved far worse than what he got (and from the look on Percy's face, the redhead agreed). Harry reluctantly removed the captain's pin from his uniform and handed it to Cho, who accepted it solemnly.

"If I catch word that you are antagonizing Malfoy any further, I will get the Headmaster involved!" McGonagall barked at Harry. And she swept from the locker room, the rest of the staff following along in her wake. Harry's teammates merely shrugged sympathetically at him before continuing to change.

Harry exited the locker room soon after, and found his family waiting for him outside the stadium. His mother and father wore looks of consternation, while Dahlia loitered off to one side, flashing him a subtle thumbs-up before slinking off to rejoin her friends.

"What the hell was that?" James demanded. "Are you trying to get yourself expelled?"

"I know, I lost my temper," Harry sighed. "But if you'd heard what Malfoy was saying up there—"

"I got death threats and far worse from the Slytherins when I played," James retorted. "And I never did something so stupid and obvious as that!"

"And what was that nonsense with Minister Fudge before the match?" Lily demanded. "We raised you with better manners than that!"

"I'm not shaking hands with someone who disrespects our family so openly," Harry said adamantly. "And I don't care how it looks."

"You should," James said grimly. "Your mother is right: now is not the time to be making enemies with Fudge. Things are very delicate at the Ministry right now—"

"So what, I'm just supposed to roll over and take it?" Harry demanded.

"You are supposed to behave yourself and represent your family well," James chastised him. "What you did today reflects poorly on me, and the public will interpret it as a rebuke against Fudge and Lucius Malfoy from the Auror Office."

"But I'm not even in the Auror Office—"

"You are an extension of myself, do you understand?" James snapped. "Fair or not, that's how people look at you. When you do something controversial, it makes me look bad."

"A little encouragement would be appreciated," Harry grumbled unhappily. "You don't know what it's like with people attacking me constantly and Percy jumping on every little thing I say! And now you're doing the same thing—"

"You asked us to start treating you like an adult," Lily reminded Harry. "Well, this is what being an adult is like. You suck it up and pick your battles carefully. If you can't keep your emotions in check after having a little dirt kicked in your eyes, maybe you aren't as mature as we thought you were."

Harry wanted to argue, but he knew his parents were right. He shouldn't be rising to the bait that Percy, Fudge and Malfoy were dangling in front of him. Neville clearly wasn't the only one having trouble clearing his mind and controlling his emotions…

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'll try to do better."

"Good," said James, patting his son on the shoulder. "Now, go celebrate with your House. We'll talk again soon."

Harry returned to the castle with mixed emotions. His classmates heaped praise on him for his play and for humbling Malfoy, which was certainly appreciated. But he knew he may have just screwed up royally. How would this reflect on his father's career? How would it affect the way Percy treated him for the rest of the term?

The following morning's edition of the Prophet featured a front-page photo of Harry's refusal to shake Fudge's hand. The accompanying article also detailed his 'dirty and uncivilized' play in the match, making zero mention of the abuse he'd received from the Slytherins and over-exaggerating Malfoy's injuries. Harry knew he would have to tread very carefully in the days and weeks to come, lest he endured further scrutiny from the paper – let alone from Percy in subsequent lessons.

Sure enough, in Defense the next morning, Harry endured a relentless stream of criticism and nit-picking from Percy, who took pleasure in openly mocking his inability to recite every little passage of the textbook he'd barely begun to read. He got his first written assignment returned with a 'D', citing his failure to use proper terminology as outlined by the text. But Harry took it all on the chin, refusing to let his temper rise or snap back at Percy's glib comments.

The Slytherins were also not so quick to forgive his actions on the pitch. They openly taunted him in the halls, berating him for causing grievous injury to one of their own. Malfoy spent the entire week in the Hospital Wing, though according to Dahlia, he had fully healed within a day but decided to milk it for brownie points with his fellow snakes. Harry kept his head down and did not rise to their insults, knowing he had to right his past wrongs and stay out of the fight for a little while.

It helped that the other students seemed to be on his side for once. None of his non-Slytherin peers blamed him for hurting Malfoy, and they were all more than willing to believe he deserved it. It was also an open secret that the vast majority of the student body – at least the upper-years – despised Percy and his draconian teaching methods. Perhaps no one was as vocal about this as the twins, who schemed openly to undermine his authority on a near-daily basis.

"What d'you reckon, Potter?" asked Fred one morning as they plopped down unannounced at the Ravenclaw Table. "Will Professor Ponce have any surveillance wards on his office?"

"We're thinking about dropping a few Dungbombs in there after class this afternoon," explained George. "Only, we don't want it traced back to us."

"He'll probably just blame it on me," Harry sighed, glancing up at the Head Table to ensure Percy wasn't looking at them. "Leave me out of it, will you? I'm trying not to get in any more trouble this term."

"And here we thought you were secretly a lion at heart," Fred chided him with a wink. "As you wish, little birdie."

Harry had another reason for wanting to avoid trouble, of course. Percy had threatened to revoke his Hogsmeade privileges, and Harry couldn't afford that. He had plans to treat Katie to a luxurious day out at the village to make up for all the time they'd lost. He even persuaded Uncle Sirius to send him a bit of extra spending money for the outing (which came with an added note providing slightly more salacious advice for the date, which Harry deliberately ignored).

Luckily, he managed to avoid Percy's ire for the rest of the week, and on Saturday morning he found himself in a carriage alongside Katie heading into the village. He'd been looking forward to the outing for a while – in addition to the day of relaxation it would provide, it would give him and Katie some valuable time together. They'd barely seen each other all term, and Harry could feel it straining their relationship the more they were kept apart.

But even with all those extenuating circumstances, Harry could feel the vibe was off as they headed hand-in-hand down the main street. Katie was quieter than usual, reminding Harry of their date the previous year, when Katie had been jealous of Fleur Delacour. Something was on her mind, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

As always, their day started at the Three Broomsticks, where they settled into a corner booth and sipped on Butterbeers while chatting about everything and nothing. Harry steered the conversation into what he believed was safe territory – Quidditch – but quickly realized this was a touchy subject. Ravenclaw's demolition of Slytherin was fun to recap, but Katie was clearly eager to forget all about Gryffindor's dismantling at the hands of Hufflepuff the week before.

Eventually Harry gave up on avoiding the elephant in the room. "Alright, Bell," he sighed heavily, setting down his glass. "What's up? You've clearly got something on your mind. Did I do something to upset you?"

"No, not exactly," Katie muttered awkwardly.

"What is it, then?"

Katie hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Is it true that you and your dad are in a secret Order with Dumbledore?" she asked bluntly.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Who told you that?" he demanded in a low tone, as he threw up a Muffling Charm around their booth.

"Nobody," Katie said quickly. "Well...not on purpose. I overheard the twins talking about it after practice last week, but they stopped talking when I approached."

"Listen...no one can know about that, understand?" said Harry. "It could jeopardize everything if the wrong people found out about that."

"I...of course I wouldn't tell anyone that!" Katie said indignantly. "I haven't said a word until just now! Who do you think I am?"

Harry relented at the hurt look on his girlfriend's face. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "Things are just really stressful right now, okay? I feel like I'm hiding things from everyone and it's hard to keep it all straight sometimes."

"It would be easier if you let someone in on your secrets sometimes," Katie pointed out. "Someone like your girlfriend, perhaps?"

"I don't want to bother you with all that," said Harry. "You'd only worry."

"Worry?" Katie scoffed. "I already worry about you, every day! I know you know more than you let on. I know you're planning to join the war after school, like your parents. I'm not an idiot."

"I didn't say you were—"

"But you treat me like a child sometimes, you know? I'm almost seventeen, Harry! I can sense the way the wind is blowing, the same as everyone else. Why do you insist on keeping me in the dark all the time?"

Harry massaged his temple in frustration. "It's not that I don't trust you, or respect you," he said carefully. "It's just...some of the things I know are really dangerous, and if they got out—"

"I told you I wouldn't tell—"

"The twins wouldn't, either, and look how that turned out. Things slip, Katie, and when they do, bad things happen. I would hate for you to be the reason my family was put in danger because you accidentally said the wrong thing."

Katie studied his face for a long moment. "How much trouble are you in, really?" she asked.

"More trouble than you know," Harry muttered bitterly.

A flash of fear crossed Katie's face. "The kind that could get you killed?" she asked softly.

"Me and everyone I love," Harry sighed miserably. "Look, can we not talk about this any more? This was supposed to be a relaxing day out."

"Okay," Katie said in a small voice. Harry felt badly, as she clearly was not satisfied with his answer. But this was not what he wanted to talk about on a date. Having a girlfriend was supposed to be a reprieve from his troubles, not a constant reminder of them.

After a few minutes of sipping their Butterbeers in awkward silence, they left the Three Broomsticks to stroll down the main road. Harry had plans to take Katie to Madam Puddifoot's later that afternoon – he had recently discovered that the establishment offered magical massages in the back, and wanted to treat his girlfriend to one.

However, their plans were interrupted when Hermione approached the pair, looking somewhat nervous. "Er...hi, Harry! And Katie!" she said in a falsely-sweet voice. "H-how are you both?"

"Fine, Hermione, how are you?" Katie said politely. Harry groaned internally; he knew Hermione's body language well enough to know that she was about to ask a favor of him.

"Oh, great, just great!" Hermione smiled. "I actually, um, just wanted to invite Har- er, invite you both for a drink at the Hog's Head."

"The Hog's Head?" Katie frowned. "Isn't that the really sketchy place on the edge of town?"

"Haha, is it?" Hermione giggled in a very un-Hermione-like way. "Well, a few of us just decided to meet up there and wondered if you would like to join."

"We're kind of on a date, Hermione," Harry sighed. "This isn't the best time—"

"It won't take long at all!" Hermione insisted. "Maybe an hour, tops!"

Harry knew that whatever this was, Hermione probably wouldn't let it go easily, if she was willing to embarrass herself publicly like this. "Fine, we'll stop by for a little bit," Harry sighed. "Who all is there?"

"Oh, just a couple people," Hermione said vaguely as she led the way down the lane. Katie gave Harry an exasperated look – she obviously wanted to spend this time alone with him. He could only shrug as they followed Hermione to the Hog's Head, wondering what this could be about.

A sizable group was waiting for them when they entered the dingy pub. Neville and Ron were there, as Harry expected, but so were both Weasley twins, Ginny, Dahlia, Cedric and Damian, all crowded around a single table in the dead center of the room. Harry could only cringe – they couldn't have stood out more if they tried. The other patrons in the bar were eyeing the large group of students suspiciously, and anything they discussed would easily be overheard.

"Hey, Harry!" Neville said with false enthusiasm. "H-how's it going, mate?"

"What is this?" Harry demanded at once.

"We just thought...you might stay for a drink or two?" Hermione said hopefully.

"For Merlin's sake," Harry groaned. "Everyone follow me." And he marched straight out the door without waiting for anyone to get up. He marched down the lane towards the dirt path branching off towards the Shrieking Shack, stopping only when he reached a point he knew no villagers could eavesdrop on him. When he turned, he saw the entire group following him, looking puzzled.

"It was warmer in the pub…" Fred muttered mutinously, shivering in the chilly breeze.

"Why are we way out here, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Because whatever you were about to ask me would become the gossip of the entire village if we discussed it in there," Harry said flatly.

"Whatever do you mean?" Hermione asked innocently. "We only wanted to spend some time with you, and maybe—"

"Come off it, Mione, Potter is too smart to fall for that act," Ron groaned, turning to Harry. "Listen, mate, we heard what you offered to Neville. And we want in."

"Want in for what?" asked Harry, confused.

"Combat training," piped up Ginny. "Neville said you offered to teach him how to fight. Well, we want to learn too."

"That wasn't an open offer to just anybody," Harry groaned. "Neville's the one in the most danger. I don't have time to tutor a bunch of people individually."

"It doesn't have to be individual!" Hermione said enthusiastically. "It could be more like...our own private Dueling Club."

"Why don't you ask Cedric?" said Harry, eyeing the Hufflepuff. "He's a good duelist too, and he knows more magic than I do anyway."

"I know more of what the textbooks say," Cedric shrugged. "But we all know how useless that really is when it comes to a war."

"We could ask a professor for help if you'd like!" said Hermione. "Professor Flitwick was a champion duelist once; I'm sure he would agree to mentor the club—"

"Hermione, do you realize how that would look?" Harry groaned. "I'm already on thin ice with the Ministry as it is. If Fudge caught wind that I was training some kind of army, my father would be sacked in an instant."

"But it's not against the rules to start a club!" Neville pointed out.

"It will be, once Professor Weasley finds out about it," Harry muttered. "And he will, trust me. He's watching me like a hawk, and I'm sure he's keeping tabs on his younger siblings as well. We can't keep this hidden from him forever."

"No offense, mate, but we've lived with 'Professor Weasley' our whole lives," said George, as Fred, Ron and Ginny nodded vigorously alongside him. "We're sort of the resident experts on hiding things from Prefect Percy. If he sticks his nose in where it doesn't belong, he'll come to regret it."

Harry rounded on Dahlia. "And what do you have to say about all this?" he demanded. "It's your father on the chopping block too, you know."

Dahlia shifted uncomfortably at being put on the spot. "I know Dad said to keep our heads down," she muttered. "But he would also want us to be prepared. If war really is coming like they're all saying, the adults won't be able to keep us safe forever. I don't want to graduate from Hogwarts and be totally unprepared for what's out there waiting for us."

"You're all serious about this, aren't you?" Harry sighed, looking around at the group.

"It's no secret you're the best of all of us, mate," said Cedric. "Even if we can't learn how to do everything you can, we want to learn how to hold our own if the worst comes to pass. You fought You-Know-Who and survived, after all."

"I fought Voldemort and lost," Harry corrected him. "Neville's the one who overpowered him, and it wasn't the first or even the second time."

"But that was just luck!" Neville protested. "I had my mother's protection the first two times, and the twin core nonsense the third time."

"Besides, we don't need to know how to fight You-Know-Who," Fred added. "I wouldn't mind learning how to give some Death Eater prats the what-for."

"Death Eaters fight dirty," Harry pointed out. "And they fight to kill. You don't want to tangle with any of them, trust me."

"All the more reason for you to show us how to defend ourselves!" George insisted. "None of the adults will, and you've actually done it, for real."

"We can call it a study group," Hermione insisted. "If anyone asks, we're just preparing for our practical exams. It's not against any rules; I checked."

Harry groaned as he considered the many eager faces waiting for his response. This was precisely the kind of thing that would get him in hot water, as it had in his last timeline with Umbridge. But at the same time, it was an opportunity to accomplish exactly what he hoped: to empower his classmates to fend for themselves so he wouldn't have to protect them all the time. Besides, he still had fond memories of running Dumbledore's Army in the last timeline, and while that certainly wouldn't be the name of their little group this time, the concept still held appeal to him.

"I have a couple conditions if I'm going to do this," he said. "I have to approve each member who joins this club personally. And not a single soul is allowed to talk about the club outside of meetings to any non-members. No friends, teachers, parents, or boyfriends." He gave Dahlia a pointed look at this last statement.

"Who, me?" she scoffed. "Are you talking about Terry? We broke up, for your information."

"He—you did?" Harry said, bewildered. "What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything to me, you prat," Dahlia huffed. "It just didn't work out. Not that it's any of your business."

"I...okay, whatever," Harry muttered, feeling the amused looks from everyone else upon him. "Everyone will need to sign a document swearing they won't talk about the club without my permission."

"Like an Unbreakable Oath?" Cedric grimaced. "Mate, I dunno if I'm comfortable with that…"

"The consequences won't be as extreme, but the idea is the same – just a deterrent," said Harry. "We can talk about it more at the first meeting. Sound good?"

There was some trepidation in the expressions of the gathered group, but most looked satisfied with the conditions. Eventually they all murmured their assent.

"Right, then," Harry nodded. "I have a lot on my plate right now, but I'll send word when it's time for the first meeting."

With that, he took Katie's hand and strolled back up the path to the village, leaving a stunned group of students behind them. Harry didn't care if they found his behavior rude and dismissive. His attention was split too many different ways, and the fate of the war rested partially on his shoulders, even if nobody else realized it.

He could sense Katie's frustration still simmering under the surface, even as they continued their date. He attempted to lavish her with attention, and while she said all the right things and smiled at his affections, he knew that wasn't what she really wanted from him. She wanted to be a part of Harry's inner circle. And why wouldn't she, as his intimate partner of nearly a year now? But Harry was unwilling to open that circle up to just about anybody. The only people who truly understood him were Saul Croaker and Bill Weasley, and even they were kept at a professional distance.

Should Harry let Katie in on his secret? Did he trust her enough to break down that barrier he'd been hiding behind for four and a half years? That raised even more uncomfortable questions in his mind...did he see himself being with her long term? Did he want to take their relationship to the next level, beyond the casual intimacy they'd enjoyed thus far? Was he truly committed to Katie, or was this just a relationship of convenience, due to run its course sooner or later?

Harry did his best to push such thoughts aside. They could have that conversation when Katie decided to raise the topic herself. Until then, he would do his best to maintain the status quo while being pulled in every direction at once.