Year 5-14: Head Over Heels

A/N: What's that? Does anyone else smell that? Is that a twist I smell coming? Huh, must have just been the wind...

The day before returning to Hogwarts, Harry casually asked his father if they had a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard lying around. Bill's hunch proved correct; James procured a battered old copy of the book that had been passed down the Potter line for generations.

"You used to love it when your mother read you these every night," James smiled wistfully as he handed Harry the book. "You know, your great-grandfather used to swear up and down that we were related to the brothers in the fifth story...my dad was convinced he just made it up for fun, though."

"How quaint," Harry laughed, hiding the jolt of excitement that coursed through him at this revelation. He flipped ahead to the fifth story, The Tale of the Three Brothers, and read it multiple times that afternoon. The fable struck him as simplistic and childish, most likely altered many times over the centuries as it was passed along from person to person. The chances that things actually happened just as they appeared in the story seemed nigh-impossible.

But did the three objects truly exist? The description of Death's cloak matched that of his father's exactly, and if the stone hidden in Harry's trunk truly could recall the dead, that might prove the story's veracity. And what of this 'unbeatable wand' the story referred to? Harry couldn't imagine such a wand existing without making some noise over the centuries. He would have to do some research and see if he found any mentions of such a wand in recent years.

Master of Death...what could that mean, exactly? Did that mean that anyone who held all three objects at once could be immune to dying? That was a strange thought. Harry had met Death face to face, and the idea of evading his grasp didn't sit right with him. And yet, wasn't that exactly what Death said that Voldemort was doing? That he had successfully hidden himself from Death via the horcruxes? Maybe there were multiple paths to immortality after all.

Harry had no intention of seeking these objects out for himself. He'd already bargained with Death once – he had no desire to tempt fate and attempt it for a second time. Sure, he might know how to obtain two of the three (if they were indeed Hallows), but if an unbeatable wand truly existed, it was likely owned by somebody who wouldn't part with it easily.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to find out where the wand was now...would it?

No, don't tempt yourself, Harry thought firmly. He had trouble enough controlling his Gryffindor impulses and charging into danger without thinking. Picking a fight with an 'unbeatable wand' sounded like precisely the kind of risk he would have taken in his past life. He had to be smarter now. He knew the secret to defeating Voldemort, and it wasn't a mythical unbeatable wand.

But what if that's 'the power the Dark Lord knows not'?!

Such conflicting thoughts continued to plague Harry as he boarded the Hogwarts Express the following day. But being back among his peers reminded him of the more immediate tasks before him, and he quickly pushed the Deathly Hallows to the back of his mind. They could wait until a future date to worry about. For now, he had O.W.L.'s, a Quidditch final, and defense training to worry about.

And apparently, he also had a new source of antagonism to deal with, in the form of Draco Malfoy. The boy and his posse had become emboldened by the recent Azkaban breakout and made an effort to taunt Harry any time they crossed paths.

"Have a nice break, Potter?" Draco sneered in the Entrance Hall as students began to filter back to their dorms. "Enjoy the last few moments of freedom with your beloved family before they're locked up for being traitors?"

"Malfoy," Harry greeted the boy neutrally. "Your break peaceful as well, then? No unwanted visitors in your house, making everybody nervous?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at this. "Watching you and your father fall off your high horse will be glorious to watch," he spat. "Talk it up now – you'll regret ever bad-mouthing my family before long."

"We'll see," Harry shrugged. "Say hello to your Auntie Bellatrix for me." And he swept away before a purple-faced Malfoy could retort.

With everything else going on in Harry's life, he found it almost laughable that Draco thought he could get under Harry's skin. Earlier in this timeline, perhaps he could have, but Harry had long tuned him out as a mere pest. He had far more important things to worry about than an immature, snot-nosed instigator like him.

He hoped to fit in at least a couple more defense meetings before the year ended, which he had to plan carefully. Percy Weasley was still watching him like a hawk – moreso than usual lately, as someone had recently snuck a niffler into his office, causing it to be destroyed. Harry suspected the twins were behind it, as they had been at the forefront of antagonizing their older brother all year. But of course Percy would point the blame to Harry first and foremost, making the need for caution paramount.

Still, with the Marauder's Map, it was easy enough to subvert the professor's watchful gaze. The other students had taken their stealth missions quite seriously, and nobody else had been caught coming or going from a meeting since Christmas break. Harry supposed that was another unintended skill they were learning...who knew when they'd have to hide from or sneak around a dangerous foe in the future?

"Good, Damian!" Harry appraised his cousin during target practice, as the boy landed a perfect Banishing Charm to the chest of a moving dummy. "Nice try, Greengrass; try not to hold your breath while casting next time!" Daphne rolled her eyes, but tried again, this time succeeding in knocking her dummy across the room with a satisfying smack.

Everyone was improving faster than Harry imagined possible. Students' accuracy was up across the board, and just about everyone could run a full mile at the beginning of each session without complaint or issue. Harry spent most of the session just watching from afar, marveling at the efficient machine he'd created. He hoped the necessity for a fight never arose, but if it did, he felt that they'd be far better prepared than his ill-fated rescue team in the previous timeline.

Spirits were high among the group as well, with the exception of Neville, who looked to be struggling mightily with headaches as of late. He opted out of grappling practice later in the session, instead sitting in the corner massaging his temple. Harry joined him, sitting beside the boy in silent support.

"It's getting worse," Neville grunted as he buried his face in his knees. "It's like the harder I try to keep him out, the more determined he is to get in."

"I know, mate," Harry said, patting Neville on the back. "I wish I could help. Take solace that he's as frustrated trying to get in and not being able to."

"Yeah, I guess," Neville muttered.

"Just remember not to trust any visions you get from now on," Harry reminded him. "He might try to—"

"Lure me to the Ministry, yeah, I know," Neville nodded. "Don't worry, I won't fall for it."

"Good," Harry nodded. "Chin up, Nev, it'll be alright in the end."

But Neville still looked miserable as the session drew to a close and Harry began directing students back to their dorms in pairs. Nobody paid him much mind, however – there was a new topic of discussion at the forefront of the school rumor mill at the moment. Mark Davis had officially begun dating Dahlia Potter, and they could frequently be seen during meetings, sharing laughs and smiling sweetly at one another.

Harry didn't know what to make of this new development. His brotherly senses were screaming at him to take disruptive action, but he was forcing himself to tamp down on those instincts. Dahlia seemed genuinely happy, and he knew Mark was a good enough bloke. At least they had the sense not to indulge in excessive PDA's like his sister's last two flings.

"They look cute together," giggled Sue Li one evening at the Ravenclaw Table, as Mark and Dahlia walked into the Great Hall hand in hand for dinner.

"Yeah, they do," Padma Patil sighed wistfully. "Shame – I thought Davis was back on the market after breaking up with that Hufflepuff prefect. Guess he's found a suitable upgrade."

"People aren't bad-mouthing Dahlia behind her back, are they?" Harry piped up, voicing a concern he'd had for the past few months.

"No, why would they?" asked Sue.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Don't girls usually get more flack for dating around than guys do?"

Both girls giggled at this. "How progressive of you, Potter," Padma grinned.

"Everyone loves Dahlia," Sue reassured him. "You haven't noticed how popular she is? If anything, Boot and McLaggen took hits to their reputations for failing to hold her interest."

"Parvati says she's got all of Gryffindor eating out of her hand," Padma added. "She's funny, smart, kind, and gets along with everyone. Plus, she's a Potter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry frowned.

Both girls rolled their eyes at him. "Come now, don't act so surprised," said Padma. "Your family's about the most influential in all of Britain. My dad's convinced that yours will be Minister one day soon."

"Fat chance of that happening," Harry chuckled hollowly. "He's closer to being out on the streets."

"Just telling you what I've heard," Padma shrugged.

Harry watched as Mark and Dahlia sat down at the end of the Slytherin table and began to eat. To his dismay, Malfoy and his mates seemed to be watching them, too. Draco whispered something into Crabbe's ear, who began laughing uproariously before telling the others in a hushed whisper. Harry couldn't imagine it would be anything good, and judging by the appalled look on Neville's face when he heard it sitting nearby, he was right.

He's picking up more ammo to use against me, Harry thought bitterly. I'll just have to not let it get to me. Draco had learned that Dahlia was his weak point, and would surely hit that point harder than ever now that he knew he could get away with it.

The only thing to be done for it was keeping himself busy and avoiding Draco whenever possible. Luckily the boy rarely visited the library, which was Harry's sanctuary aside from the Room of Requirement. He dove into his O.W.L. preparations, with the end of the year exams rapidly approaching. Despite testing out of three subjects already, some of his most difficult exams remained – History of Magic had been a disaster last time, and it would be his first time taking the Ancient Runes exam, forcing him to study many hours a day to keep up.

Then of course there was Potions. Harry was doing better in Snape's classes than he had in the previous timeline, but was still hovering at an 'Exceeds Expectations' grade. Snape continued pushing him hard, but for once, Harry felt that it was a genuine effort to challenge him rather than malicious intent.

"You will not be continuing in my class with your current level of effort, Potter," Snape reprimanded him after one assignment was returned with a mere 'Acceptable'. "If you want that 'Outstanding' grade, you have to be better than this, or you can kiss your Auror aspirations goodbye."

So you DO know that you're gate-keeping the Auror program, Harry thought sourly. Snape seemed to take pride in his strict standards, even if it meant preventing the vast majority of students from pursuing the noblest of professions. But complaining about the injustice wouldn't solve anything – Harry just had to overcome it and earn that 'O' the old-fashioned way.

Harry also devoted a small amount of research into the Deathly Hallows, though he quickly found that the research on the subject was few and far between. Harry had finally secured a pass to the Restricted Section thanks to Professor Flitwick, and he casually perused any book he could find that dealt with magical artifacts throughout history. Only a few books even deigned to mention the Hallows in passing, but always in the context of the fable and with no real speculation that they might actually exist.

The Elder Wand, on the other hand, was a different story. A handful of tomes actually attempted to trace the fabled wand's path through history, under various titles like the Deathstick or the Wand of Destiny. According to these scant sources, the wand exchanged hands numerous times over the years, eventually ending up in the hands of Loxias, a Greek wizard, in the eighteenth century. No historians could agree on who murdered Loxias and claimed the wand after that, leaving the trail cold somewhere in southeastern Europe.

Bulgaria isn't far from Greece, Harry reasoned. Maybe Krum would know something about this. He resolved to mention it in his next letter to the man – they had been corresponding quite frequently as of late. Krum planned to attend the ICW summit alongside the Bulgarian representative and help advocate for taking action against Voldemort. Harry hoped that the added star power would help to sway voters towards their side.

Krum wasn't the only Triwizard Champion Harry was in regular contact with, either. Fleur had sent him an angry letter a few days after their Little Hangleton adventure, demanding the full story of his adventures through time and space. Harry reluctantly gave her an abridged version of the story, including his passage through the Veil of Death, with promises to share more details in person when they could talk at length. She swore to chew him out in person for keeping this from her, with some colorful French terms sprinkled in...Harry chuckled to himself at this, knowing such acerbic language was basically terms of endearment coming from her.

Such secret correspondences were a reminder of how stuck Harry felt at Hogwarts, but there was nothing to be done about that. He simply had to make the most of his time here while he still could, and as Lupin had advised him years ago, to 'enjoy his golden years'. Harry knew the next year or two might be his last opportunity to play Quidditch, so he threw himself into preparations for the Cup final. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were both undefeated heading into their final match-up, and both sides desperately wanted to win.

"We can't make a single mistake in this one!" Cho barked at her team during practice one day. "Their Beaters are good at disrupting sloppy plays, so we can't lose focus for even a second out there. And Potter, no offense, but I won't be satisfied with a draw this time, so don't give Diggory an inch!"

"Alright," Harry chuckled. As it so happened, a draw wasn't even possible – both Harry and Cedric had caught every Snitch thus far in the season, so a tie would benefit whoever caught the most balls in their head-to-head match-up. And he knew Cedric wouldn't go easy on him, either – it was his final game before graduation, and he wanted that Cup as badly as Harry did.

As the match approached in mid-May, the atmosphere around the castle began to chatter excitedly and ramp up for the big face-off. It was the first time in years that the final match of the season would be fought between two undefeated teams in a winner-take-all bout. With the recent Hogsmeade incident and the stress of exams looming large, it was something students of all ages and Houses could partake in as an escape from their worries.

Most of the Gryffindors were rooting for Ravenclaw, having grown accustomed to rooting for Harry in the previous year. The Weasley twins were among his most vocal supporters, and even the Chaser trio gave him nods of encouragement in the halls – a sign that perhaps the relationship fallout had passed. The Slytherins largely sided with Hufflepuff, which was no surprise – they were eager to see Harry knocked down a peg, and would take any chance to heckle him in the halls.

No one was happier to do so than Draco Malfoy, of course, who took any chance he could to fill Harry's ears with poison. He threw every nasty slur and insult he could at Harry, trying to get under his skin. But Harry was growing impervious to his nonsense by now, determined not to rise to the obvious bait. Draco may be persistent, but he wouldn't be able to make Harry lose his temper this time. He simply had too much to lose to risk it.

Just a few more weeks and I'll be rid of him, Harry thought. He could see the end of the term on the horizon, so close yet so far away. He can chirp all he wants, but it's not going to matter. I'll make it through the year without incident.

And he came so, so close to doing so.

It began as a nondescript Wednesday morning, dawning bright and sunny. Harry was in high spirits; he had a light course load today, followed by Quidditch practice that afternoon and a defense club meeting after dinner. Harry felt good about his preparations for all three – with a bit more effort, he would finish the year with the House Cup, Quidditch Cup, and ten O.W.L.'s to his name. Hell, maybe even eleven, as he was thinking about sitting the Muggle Studies exam just for fun—

"Oi, Potter, sleep alright last night?"

Harry groaned as Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle fell into step with him on his way to History of Magic. He shared the class with the Slytherins today, so he wouldn't even be able to shake the three boys en route to the classroom, which was all the way on the other side of the castle. He would just have to put up with whatever ploy he'd come up with today to annoy him.

"Morning, Malfoy," he greeted the boy neutrally. "I slept just fine. And you?"

"Nah, mate, I couldn't," Draco sighed dramatically, as Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind him. "Heard a lot of noises coming from down the hall, you see."

"Sorry to hear that," Harry deadpanned. "You should ask your Head of House to look into it next time."

"It seemed to be coming from the sixth-year dorms," Draco sneered, ignoring Harry's helpful suggestion. "Lots of rhythmic pounding and moaning. You don't reckon Mark Davis is giving it to your sister, do you?"

Harry chuckled hollowly. Of course that was where this was going...Draco had zeroed in on Dahlia as Harry's Achilles' heel, and enjoyed debasing her any chance he got. It brought forth the familiar urge to throttle Draco for his audacity, but he kept his temperament cool and even.

"Maybe he's passing her around with all his mates," Draco suggested. "She is the school mattress, after all; bet she's keen on it. Can't imagine Longbottom joining in, though – poor sod was probably in the corner watching."

"Sounds like something you have experience with," Harry retorted. "Do Mummy and Daddy let you watch sometimes, if you've been on your best behavior?"

"Very cute, Potter," Draco snarled. "My dearest auntie says hello, by the way. She's eager to make your sister's acquaintance."

"Is she, now?" Harry said casually, though a chill ran down his spine at this. The thought of Bellatrix Lestrange coming anywhere near Dahlia was worse than any lewd mental image Draco could try and implant into his brain.

"Oh, yes," Draco nodded eagerly. "In fact, with a bit of luck, she thinks that meeting will be sooner than later."

"She's welcome to come and say hello any time," said Harry. "My father says it's been far too long since they last spoke."

"Oh, that can be arranged," Draco grinned. "She'd love to finish what she started with your family all those years ago—"

"Oi, leave him alone!"

Harry groaned: Damian Dursley had spotted them from down the stairs, and was hustling up to defend his cousin. Draco's eyes lit up with glee at a new target making itself available.

"Alright there, Dursley?" he greeted the younger boy. "Working hard for the Quidditch final? Hope you're planning to knock this guy on his arse for us."

"He may be my opponent next weekend," Damian snarled, "but he's still my cousin. So lay off him."

"Yeah?" Draco taunted, turning to face Damian directly. "Or what?"

A tense stand-off ensued; the two boys glared into each other's faces, daring the other to make a move. Draco was still a few inches taller than Damian, but the Hufflepuff had nearly fifty pounds of bulk on the older boy, and Harry worried what might happen if they came to blows.

"Don't bother, Damian," he sighed, resting a gentle hand on his cousin's shoulder. "He's not worth the effort. Just ignore him and he'll go away."

"Yes, run along and obey your master like the good little Mudblood you are," Draco smirked.

"Call me that word one more time—" Damian growled warningly, taking a step forward.

"Damian!" Harry snapped, wrenching his arm forcefully towards him. "Do. Not. Engage."

He could see how hard the boy was struggling not to haul off and punch Draco across the face. And he knew that was just what Draco wanted to happen. Harry slowly drew his wand with his free hand, intending to Stun Damian if he needed to prevent a fight from breaking out.

But Damian surprised him with a placid smile. "You're nothing, Malfoy," he said coolly in the blonde boy's face. "You fancy yourself a bully, but I know bullies. You've got nothing better to do than pick on people who can't fight back, because you know you're a worthless piece of rubbish. And you always will be."

Crabbe and Goyle both oohhh'ed at this cold-blooded insult. Draco's faux-pleasant demeanor dropped at once, and his expression took on a more malevolent, angry tone.

"Laugh it up now, Dursley," he said. "You'll be the first to die in the new world order. I'll make sure you regret insulting a pure-blood for the rest of your short life."

"C'mon, Damian, let's go," Harry said firmly, pulling on the boy's arm to steer him away. But as he did so, Draco clapped a patronizing hand on Damian's shoulder.

"Good luck next Saturday, Dursley," he sneered. "And hey, if you win the match, maybe I can convince Father to buy up your parents for cheap when they're sold into s—aaahhhh!"

Harry turned just in time to see Malfoy flip head over heels, as Damian performed a perfect over-the-shoulder takedown maneuver that they'd been practicing in defense meetings. Draco was sent sprawling to the ground on his back – or he would have been, if there was solid ground in front of him. Instead, he was sent tumbling down the large staircase, painfully bouncing and crashing into every other step as he fell.

Harry, Damian, Crabbe and Goyle watched in stunned silence as Draco continued to build momentum, from one flight of stairs down to the next, gathering speed as he flailed and ricocheted out of control. He finally reached the base of the third flight of stairs, coming face to face with a solid stone wall – which Draco's head collided with in a sickening crunch.

The four boys stared as Draco slumped to the floor and did not move. It was deathly silent as they waited for the blonde boy to get up. Only, he never did.

Then, a pool of thick red blood began to pool around Draco's head.

Then, somebody screamed.

Harry had never seen Damian Dursley look so scared before.

The third-year squirmed in his armchair in the Headmaster's office, looking as though he wanted to throw up out of fear. Harry sat beside him, unsure how to comfort the boy. Crabbe and Goyle lurked in a corner, leering at Damian menacingly. Albus Dumbledore stood behind his desk, pacing lightly back and forth. He may have worn a placid expression, but Harry knew the old man well enough by now to know that he was deeply troubled.

Damian's going to be expelled for sure, Harry thought miserably. Lucius Malfoy is going to come down hard on him. It wasn't as if Damian's record was clean, either...although he'd mellowed out in the past year, he had a long history of infractions dating back to his first term. There was no chance he'd get off easy now, especially with the son of a school governor involved.

The door clicked open, and Severus Snape strode into the room. "Mr. Malfoy is recovering well in the Hospital Wing," he informed Dumbledore. "Poppy managed to stop the brain swelling and is preparing him for transport to St. Mungo's. Lucius Malfoy has been notified and is on his way to the school as we speak."

Thank Merlin for that, Harry thought. He could only imagine the hellfire that would rain down if Draco had died from his injuries. Damian didn't look all that reassured, continuing to fidget in his seat and stare blankly down at his shoes.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore nodded. "Will you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Dursley's Head of House?"

"What about Potter?" Crabbe demanded, pointing a meaty finger at Harry. "He egged his cousin on!"

"Yeah, he made 'im do it!" Goyle added, nodding vigorously.

"Perhaps Filius ought to be present for this as well," Dumbledore conceded. "Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, please return to your common room."

Crabbe and Goyle followed Snape from the office, throwing Harry and Damian one last dirty look before the door shut behind them.

"S-sir?" Damian asked quietly, looking up to Dumbledore at last. "What's gonna happen to me?"

Dumbledore regarded the young boy with a tired expression. Harry knew that could only mean bad things.

"Mr. Dursley, I'm afraid Hogwarts has a zero-tolerance policy regarding physical violence," the Headmaster sighed. "You have received several warnings in the past about your treatment of fellow students—"

"But that was years ago!" Damian protested. "I haven't hurt nobody all term!"

"Is this really any different than hexing someone in the halls?" Harry pointed out. "Flint and those Durmstrang boys would have given me far worse than a fractured skull if I let their spells hit me last year."

"I agree, the rules are outdated," said Dumbledore. "Muggle fighting has been seen as 'beneath' young witches and wizards in our world for centuries, back when only pure-bloods were permitted into Hogwarts. The code has not been updated to reflect shifting demographics since."

"But I did just as much damage to Malfoy during our last Quidditch match!" said Harry. "Why wasn't I expelled then?"

"You were punished, if you recall," said Dumbledore. "And because it occurred on the Quidditch pitch, it was not considered assault. This, I'm afraid, is more unambiguous."

"B-but I can't be expelled!" Damian whined. "I have nowhere to go! What am I supposed to do?"

"There are remedial wizarding programs to help you obtain your O.W.L.'s from home," said Dumbledore. "Without a wand, of course. Though in your case, being a Muggle-born, it's advisable that you seek a future in the mundane world, as you will not find many opportunities in ours."

Damian looked even more shell-shocked by this news. Harry couldn't even imagine what he was going through...being told at eleven that he had a special gift, only to have it taken from him a mere three years later. Knowing for the rest of his life that there was a wondrous world just out of sight, a world he would never have access to again. Harry felt horribly for the boy.

The office door swung open again, and Snape returned, followed by Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and surprisingly, Percy Weasley. "I don't believe I summoned you, Professor Weasley," said Dumbledore, arching his eyebrows in surprise. "What can I do for you?"

"Minister Fudge sent for me," Percy sniffed self-importantly. "He is on his way with Lord Malfoy as we speak."

Fudge is involved now?! Harry thought, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Had he learned that Harry was involved somehow, and hoped to spin the situation to sow even more chaos? This day was going from bad to worse alarmingly fast.

"Honestly, Damian!" Professor Sprout admonished her young student. "I thought we resolved these little outbursts of yours! What on earth were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, Professor," Damian said, looking down in shame. "I lost my temper. It shouldn't have happened."

"I've stuck my neck out defending you one too many times," Sprout muttered, sounding supremely disappointed. "I really thought you'd turned a corner, but I guess I was wrong. There is nothing I can do to protect you now, young man." Damian trembled silently at this rebuke.

"What led to this incident, Harry?" asked Flitwick softly.

"Malfoy was saying cruel things, as usual," Harry muttered bitterly. "I tried to tune it out, but then he turned his attention to Damian's family, and well, things got out of control fast."

"I didn't mean for him to fall down those stairs!" Damian said helplessly. "I just wanted him to think twice before insulting my mum and dad, that's all...I wasn't trying to seriously hurt him!"

"I'm afraid that may not matter, Mr. Dursley," said Dumbledore. "Once Mr. Malfoy's father becomes involved, there will be very little to convince him your actions were not malicious."

As if on cue, the fireplace flared green, and two men stepped out of the hearth and into the office: Cornelius Fudge and Lucius Malfoy.

"Dumbledore," Fudge greeted the Headmaster curtly. "Shame we must continue meeting under such unfortunate circumstances."

"My office is always open for a more pleasant visit, Cornelius," Dumbledore said sardonically, causing Fudge to blanch. "Lord Malfoy, I must apologize for your son's accident. He has been stabilized and should make a full recovery."

"Yes, an 'accident', was it?" Malfoy sniffed, looking sourly at Harry before his gaze settled on Damian. "This is the boy that did it, then?"

"Mr. Dursley was provoked into his actions by your son's cruel insults," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I'm not interested in the specifics," Malfoy scoffed. "He broke school rules and seriously hurt my son. My heir. That is completely unacceptable."

"Your son's life was never in any danger," Dumbledore continued. "The magic of the castle would have protected him from any lethal blow he might have received from his fall, the same as the Quidditch pitch, as I reminded you last fall."

"It matters not!" Malfoy seethed. "Do you seriously intend to defend this boy, Dumbledore? How do you think the other governors will react if they learn you let him off the hook? Allowing a boy to get away with violent assault, against a pure-blood no less?"

"The blood status of those involved should not factor into the Headmaster's decision!" Professor Sprout gasped, looking scandalized.

But Harry knew Lucius had Dumbledore in a bind. All of the school governors were pure-bloods, and Harry could only imagine how they'd react to news of a Muggle-born student attacking the heir of a renowned pure-blood House. Dumbledore may have final say in Damian's expulsion, but if he showed any leniency here, the Board of Governors would come down on him like a hammer.

"I only wish to make the case that drastic measures not be taken," Dumbledore said calmly. "Mr. Dursley will be severely punished, of that there is no doubt. But the expulsion of a Muggle-born is a life-altering event, an action that I cannot take lightly."

"I have little patience for your moral scruples, Dumbledore," Lucius said sharply. "It's your head or the boy's. And honestly, it could be the both of you, so I suggest you not waste my time any longer."

Dumbledore looked sadly at Damian once more before giving a heavy sigh. Harry knew what was coming next. And he couldn't bring himself to let it happen.

"Mr. Malfoy, it's my fault!" Harry blurted out. "I told Damian to do it."

Lucius rounded on Harry. "And why would you do that, Mr. Potter?" he demanded.

"I instructed Damian to act as my bodyguard," Harry lied. "And defend me if anyone tried to attack me. He must have interpreted your son's actions as an attack, and he only responded how I taught him to do."

Lucius arched an eyebrow at this. "That was quite resourceful of you, Potter," he laughed mirthlessly. "Forcing other students to take the fall for you. How unfortunate that you were not the one to harm my son, or I would see to it that—"

"Now hold on one moment there, Lucius," said Fudge, who suddenly looked like inspiration had struck him like lightning. "I wish to investigate this avenue further. You say you were the instigator behind this attack, Mr. Potter?"

"That's right," Harry nodded. "Damian wouldn't have done it if I hadn't told him to."

"Harry, no," Damian muttered beside him. "It's my own fault. Don't do this."

"And why did you instruct him to hurt my son in so crude a manner?" Lucius demanded.

Harry closed his eyes – this was the moment of no return. He knew it wouldn't be enough to take the blame for the accident - he had to give Fudge and Malfoy a bigger target to take the heat off of Damian completely. And there was only one way to do that.

"I trained him to fight without a wand," he admitted. "In our defense group."

"I knew it!" Percy Weasley exclaimed gleefully. "I told you of my suspicions, Minister! Potter has been hosting an illegal fighting club right under my nose, and now I have the proof!"

Lucius looked curiously from Percy to Fudge, then back to Harry. His interest had piqued, and he clearly didn't care about Damian any longer...a bigger target had entered his sights. "Tell me more, Potter," he demanded. "If this club truly exists, you may be in far bigger trouble than I imagined."

Harry could feel Dumbledore and Damian's eyes silently pleading with him to stop, but he couldn't. He would not sit by and watch his cousin receive the most terrible fate imaginable for a young wizard. "I started the club and invited as many people as I could to join," he explained. "We've been meeting regularly since last November."

"What is the purpose of this club?" demanded Fudge.

"To train students for war," Harry sighed. A look of panic crossed Fudge's face, but it was quickly replaced by one of triumph.

"How many students are in this club?"

"Forty-five," Harry admitted, causing Percy's eyes to widen with glee. That was far more than the seven people that constituted a legal gathering of students.

"So specific," Lucius Malfoy remarked. "You know every member of this club?"

"There's a list," Harry sighed. "Hermione Granger has it, I think."

"Well, by all means, let's have it then!" Fudge said excitedly. All eyes turned to Professor Flitwick, and he swept from the room, no doubt to fetch Hermione from Ravenclaw Tower to obtain the list.

"You realize how poorly this reflects upon you, Dumbledore?" Lucius said, rounding on the Headmaster once more. "An illegal fighting club being operated in your castle, right under your nose?"

"The Headmaster had no idea about the existence of the club," Harry said quickly. "I'll swear to it on Veritaserum if necessary." Lucius looked displeased by this answer, but dropped the matter.

Suddenly, the fireplace flared green again, and James Potter stepped through the Floo, looking around the room warily. "I got your message, Albus," he said breathlessly. "Are my children alright?"

"Ah, just in time, Auror Potter!" Fudge said gleefully. "Your son's got himself in quite the predicament, and I don't think he'll wriggle out of it this time!"

James looked at Harry, alarmed. "What did you do?" he asked softly.

"Your son is apparently in the business of ordering hits on other students," Lucius sneered, a malevolent grin on his face. "In this case, forcing his cousin to beat my son to within an inch of his life."

"I didn't beat him—!" Damian began to protest, but Harry subtly kicked him to stay silent. None of this would be worthwhile if Damian still ended up getting expelled alongside him.

A few minutes later, Professor Flitwick returned, with a very nervous-looking Hermione beside him. She took in the various figures around the office, eyes widening in fear.

"Ah, another ringleader appears," Lucius sneered. "You helped Mr. Potter run this club, then, did you?"

"The club was my idea and mine alone," Harry said firmly. "I just asked Hermione to hold onto the list so I wouldn't get caught with it." Hermione gave Harry a surprised look, and he gave her a subtle shake of the head not to contradict his story.

"Throwing more of your classmates under the bus then, are we, Potter?" Fudge scoffed. "Despicable, truly despicable."

"You have the list then?" Lucius demanded of Hermione, extending his hand lazily to her. She glanced nervously to Harry, who nodded silently, prompting her to reach into her bag and withdraw the list, handing it over.

Lucius took the list and pored over the dozens of names printed upon the parchment. His gaze settled on something at the top of the page, eyebrows raising in surprise, before a wide, gleeful grin spread across his face. He held out the list for Fudge to read, and the Minister too scanned the list briefly before focusing on the top of the sheet.

"Oho," Fudge said, eyes lighting up like a boy on Christmas morning. "Oho!"

"Is something the matter?" asked Dumbledore, frowning.

Fudge took the list from from Lucius and, to Harry's surprise, marched over to James and waved it in his face. "Care to explain this, Auror Potter?"

James peered at the list for a moment, confused. Then his face fell at whatever he saw written upon it. Harry craned his neck to see what the hubbub was all about. When he caught a glimpse of the list, his stomach dropped. Above the list of names, written in big letters in Hermione's tidy handwriting, was a club name: 'POTTER'S ARMY'.

"Now it's all becoming clear!" Fudge said excitedly. "You were right all along, Weasley! Young Mr. Potter here was instructed by his father to raise an army of students, in the hopes of overthrowing my administration one day!"

"That's preposterous," James scoffed. "I did no such thing."

But Fudge and Malfoy didn't appear to believe him. They both looked excited, like they'd just been handed the gift of a lifetime on silver platter.

Harry turned to Hermione, who looked horrified. "I'm sorry!" she whispered fearfully. "It was the first name that anyone suggested, and we never bothered to update it—"

"Miss Grazer, is it?" said Fudge, turning to Hermione. Harry noticed with relief that he didn't seem to recognize her from the Chamber of Secrets fiasco three years earlier. "You were a member of this 'Potter's Army', were you?"

"Yes," Hermione squeaked nervously.

"And did Mr. Potter here instruct you to harm other students physically if he felt threatened?" Fudge asked.

Hermione looked at Harry, wide-eyed. Harry subtly nodded at her, giving her permission to rat him out. "N—er, yes, he did," she said sullenly.

"And did Mr. Potter ever indicate that he was receiving instruction from his father, to train students illegally without the Ministry's knowledge?" Lucius Malfoy demanded.

Hermione's gaze whipped over to James. To Harry's astonishment, this time it was his father who subtly nodded his head at her. Clearly he had deduced what was going on and was also seeking to protect Damian.

"Yes," Hermione quivered.

"Thank you for your honesty, young lady," Fudge sniffed, turning to face James with a pompous demeanor. "Auror Potter, you are hereby relieved of your duties and ordered to empty your office immediately. Your employment with the Ministry of Magic has come to an end."

"Understood, Minister," James said stiffly, as the rest of the room (minus Malfoy) watched on with horror.

"As for you, Mr. Potter," sneered Fudge, rounding on Harry, "it is clear that you have not heeded any warnings and are unrepentant in your opposition to Ministry rules. I can see no world in which you are permitted to remain at this school, given the bad influence you've had on your fellow students."

"I quite agree," said Lucius Malfoy, a gleam of triumph in his eyes as he looked down upon Harry. "Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore regarded Harry with sad eyes, releasing a deep sigh. "Harry James Potter," he said, "it is with regret that I must expel you from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, effective immediately."

The finality of the words hit Harry like a ton of bricks. He knew it was coming, knew that it was the inevitable outcome of his decision. But to know that he was forever banished from the school, his one true home, was a heavy blow nonetheless.

"What about Mr. Dursley?" asked Professor Sprout nervously. "Will he be punished as well?"

Harry held his breath. Lucius Malfoy's gaze landed lazily on the younger boy, whose eyes were cast downward in fear, awaiting his judgment.

"I am satisfied that we have caught the ringleader in this operation," Malfoy sniffed. "I care not what happens to the other boy."

"Mr. Dursley will face lengthy detentions for his actions," Dumbledore offered. "He will also be removed from the Quidditch team for the remainder of the year." Damian looked dismayed by this news, but he held his tongue, knowing he had avoided a much worse fate.

Malfoy turned up his nose, indifferent, clearly satisfied with the day's events. He'd already received a far bigger prize than expected. "I must attend to my son," he announced, before stepping through the fireplace and spinning away out of sight – no doubt to report this positive new development to his true master.

A chilly silence remained in his wake. Harry contemplated his future, now that his education had come to an abrupt end. He would never see many of his classmates or his teachers again. He would never be taking his N.E.W.T.'s, or his remaining O.W.L.'s for that matter. The place he had called his true home for the past five years – no, the past ten years – was now forbidden territory.

Though truthfully, he wasn't as upset as he expected to be. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise...his departure from the school was sooner than expected, but he'd already been planning to leave anyway. He felt liberated in a way – no longer confined to the castle for ten months out of the year. Voldemort was still out there, amassing power, and it was time to take the fight to him rather than hide in the safety of Hogwarts any longer.

"Well...that's that, then," Fudge said with an air of finality. He marched over to Harry's seat and held his hand out expectantly. "Hand it over, Mr. Potter."

"Sorry?" Harry asked, confused.

"Your wand," Fudge snapped. "You won't be needing it any longer, boy. The party's over, as they say."

Harry's heart plummeted. He'd forgotten that expulsion meant having his wand snapped...that, he could not abide. He needed his wand to finish what needed to be done. He couldn't possibly just hand it over. He looked around the room, starting to panic, weighing his options...should he try to fight his way out? Could he survive on the run from the Ministry, a fugitive of the law?

But before he could do anything drastic, Dumbledore spoke up: "That will not be necessary, Cornelius."

"The law is quite clear, Albus," Fudge snapped. "Mr. Potter is underage, and as such—"

"Mr. Potter has already completed three of his O.W.L.'s," Dumbledore explained. "As such, he meets the minimum Ministry requirements for magical competency. He is permitted to keep his wand."

Harry raised his eyebrows at this news. Had Dumbledore known this all along? Had he approved Harry to test out of several subjects on purpose, knowing that something like this might come to pass in the near future?

Fudge rounded on Dumbledore. "And how has he completed O.W.L.'s already?" he demanded. "Fifth years don't sit them until end of year!"

"Mr. Potter was permitted to take a selection earlier this term," said Dumbledore. "My request was approved by Madam Marchbanks last October, and subsequently approved by yourself. But surely you read every document that crosses your desk before signing them, Cornelius?"

Fudge grimaced at this insinuation – by the looks of it, Dumbledore's read was entirely correct. "Fine," he spat. "Get out of my sight, Potter. You are not welcome on these premises any longer."

Harry shakily stood, feeling the eyes of the entire office upon him. Hermione and Damian looked horrified, while his (now former) professors looked saddened by this latest development. Harry wished he could take one last walk around the campus, take in the sights and smells of the castle one last time. But it was not to be. He was no longer welcome here.

Harry gave a reassuring nod to his (now former) schoolmates, then followed his father to the fireplace. "Godric's Hollow," James muttered, causing the fire to flare green, and Harry stepped through after him, leaving Hogwarts for what may be the last time in his life.

A/N: Sooo, how's everyone else's day going? *whistles innocently*