The Hogwarts Express was scheduled to pull into Hogsmeade station by mid-afternoon, having left Kings Cross at eight that morning, pulling just two cars full of DA member students coming back a week early from Christmas break, at the invitation of Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter could not see the train from where he and Ron stood in the Owlery of Hogwarts School, but knew that it would arrive soon. The few remaining students who stayed for the holidays had been taken into Hogsmeade as a treat while the train arrived. The best friends were there to find Ron’s tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, or Pig, as the little bird was called, so he could send a letter to his twin brothers. Harry’s snowy-white owl Hedwig flew down and landed on his shoulder, her amber eyes blinking at him serenely. Harry laughed and gave her the owl treat that he’d brought with him.

With a twitter, Pig emerged from between to large brown school barn owls, where he had been sleeping. He swooped down towards Ron, skimming the top of his head before shooting past and out the window.

“Hey! Get back here you bloody useless bird!” Ron yelled as he lost sight of the owl.

Laughing, Harry stroked Hedwig’s head. “Why don’t you just use Hedwig, Ron, she’s faster anyway.”

Hedwig seemed to agree and held out her leg as Ron attached a small roll of parchment, grumbling under his breath all the time. Pig came flying back in the window as Hedwig took off gracefully, hovering in front of Ron, twittering excitedly.

“You are a bloody menace! Go on now, take off!” Ron shooed the owl away as Harry followed him out the door of the Owlery, still chuckling.

The two were dressed in muggle jeans and jumpers, and headed down toward the Great Hall.

“Hey, Harry?” Ron turned to look at him. “You really okay with all this?”

Harry frowned in confusion, stopping on a landing. “What do you mean ‘all of this’?” He looked at the serious expression on his best friend’s freckled face.

“Well, the whole Prophecy thing, mate, heaped on top of Sirius…you know.” Harry could see the concern in Ron’s eyes.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Harry was silent for a moment, thinking of how to phrase an honest response. “When I first went to the Dursleys last June, I was feeling pretty bad, blaming myself for Sirius dying, not wanting to eat or sleep much, but the night that Remus came to get me, that was the same night I first ‘talked’ to Sirius. Since then, I’ve had you guys and Remus with me, and we’ve been busy learning so much, that I haven’t had time to dwell on it.” He gave Ron a sheepish grin. “I was a little stressed the night before Voldemort attacked though, and both Sirius and Remus yelled at me.”

Ron frowned at him. “Why’d they do that?”

“I kind of told them that I was just going to fight it out with Voldemort, just get it over with.” Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

Ron grabbed him by the shoulders. “You said what?!”

“I didn’t do it, Ron! I wouldn’t have, I was just really tired of my scar hurting so bad all the time more than anything.” Harry grabbed Ron’s wrists, and looked at him apologetically. “Alright?”

Ron pinned him with a steely look. “Don’t ever even think of going after that…after him alone, Harry, promise me.”

Harry nodded at him. “I promise, mate.”

Satisfied, Ron dropped his hands and they continued down to the next landing. They made their way down to the Entrance Hall, where the great oak doors stood open to the cold, snowy outside. The sound of clanking chains and rattling carriages could be heard through the open doors.

“Oh no, the carriages are here already!” Harry pushed Ron forward. “You need to get out there, and I’ll go get Snape from his office.” Harry sprinted down the stairs leading to the dungeons, running all the way, knowing that they were going to be late. He skidded to a stop in front of the open office door, and was glad to see Snape sitting behind his desk.

Severus Snape glanced up from his work and arched an eyebrow at the panting Gryffindor standing in front of him. “Are we under attack, Mister Potter?” He asked softly, his voice an even questioning tone.

“The carriages are here already, sir!” Harry panted out, rubbing at the stitch in his side. “I didn’t want us to be late, Professor.”

Snape glared at him and waved him into the chair in front of the desk. Harry dropped in to it, taking deep breathes and struggling to quiet his thumping heart.

“Am I to understand that despite the pivotal role which you play in this situation, that you are concerned about being tardy?” The question came out as a sneer, and Harry looked up at the Potions Master with a puzzled expression.

“Well, yes, I don’t want to be late, Professor?” Harry told him, clearly not understanding. “Why would I want to be late, sir, wouldn’t that be rude?”

Unreadable black eyes studied him for a moment, and Snape stood, smoothing down the front of his robes.

“Yes, Potter, that would indeed be rude and very attention grabbing behavior.” He moved around the desk to stand beside Harry. “You continue to be an enigma, Mister Potter, causing me to reevaluate prior conceptions. Shall we go?”

Harry frowned as he got up, trying to figure out whether Snape had just said something good about him or something bad. With a shrug of his shoulders, he decided it wasn’t enough to worry about, and followed the black clad figure to the Great Hall at a brisk walk.

A second long table had been set up next to the first in the Great Hall, still resplendent in its holiday decorations. Harry was thrilled to see all of the members of the DA had chosen to return early, and were already seated at one of the tables with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Hurrying towards them, he left Professor Snape standing in the doorway as he moved to say hello to everyone. Sitting down beside Ginny, Harry threw an arm around her as he joined in the laughter around the table.

“May I have your attention?” Albus Dumbledore stood at the top of the tables, glancing around at the returning students and the members of the inner guard at the second table. “Harry, would you join me please?” Harry made his way up to stand beside the Headmaster, who waved his hand and sealed the doors to the Great Hall.

“Thank you all for agreeing to come back to Hogwarts a week early. Since you left here, the have been serious attempts on the lives of both Harry and Professor Snape, one by an Auror who was in service to Lord Voldemort, and one that was aided by a student, also in the service of Voldemort.” Harry could hear the audible gasps as the information sunk in. “In light of this, we need to make sure that Hogwarts remains safe for both the students and the staff, but particularly for these two, who have already been targeted.” Dumbledore swept his gaze over the assembled students. “You have been asked here not only to learn advanced magical skills, but because you have proved your loyalty to both Harry and I in the past year and a half, and are in the best position to help ensure his and each others safety. This will truly be Dumbledore’s Army, and if there is anyone who is not prepared to accept there will be danger inherent in this can leave now without repentance.”

The Headmaster paused, waiting for the warning to sink in, but no one moved. “Very good, you all make me very proud. Harry will continue to instruct you, with the help of Professor Lupin and Professor Snape. There will be morning sessions beginning at nine each morning and afternoon sessions at one, in the Room of Requirement. Please remember that there must be complete secrecy in what we are doing, but that anyone in this room will always be available to you, if you need us.” He smiled at them all. “Thank you, now let us eat.”

The member of the DA disbursed after dinner to get settled into their dorms. Remus tapped Harry on the shoulder and a beckoning finger as he stood talking to Ron and Neville near the door to the Great Hall. With a quick word of goodbye, Harry followed his guardian up the stairs in comfortable silence. It soon became clear to Harry that they were headed towards the Room of Requirement.

“Training?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes, we haven’t done any since the holidays started, and you requested this.” Remus pulled open the door and ushered Harry in front of him.

Harry stopped just inside the door, surprise seeping through him as he took in the long barren space the room had provided. He was somewhat startled to find Professor Snape prowling along the far edge of the room, his customary flowing robes replaced with close-fitting soft black trouser and a long sleeved black shirt.

“Harry.” Albus Dumbledore moved to stand beside him, a hand resting on his left shoulder.

Harry smiled as he met the twinkling blue eyes. “Sir.”

“We thought we’d see how well you did channeling your magic through that magnificent medallion, my boy, so we can assess what direction we need to go in with your training.” Dumbledore gestured a hand toward Snape and moved to stand next to Remus by the Door.

“Mister Potter.” Snape’s voice was neutral, neither welcoming nor snarling. “Please remove any extraneous clothing.”

Harry blinked, deciphered the meaning, and then pulled his green Weasley jumper over his head and tossed it to Remus. Clad in a black t-shirt and muggle jeans, he moved further into the room, until he stood beside the Potions Master, who immediately maneuvered them into the middle of the room, facing away from the door. Harry’s fingers went to his neck and he drew the medallion out from underneath his shirt. His fingers lingered on the warm metal and the Phoenix flexed its wings.

“We are attempting to evaluate specifically your ability to focus, channel, and control your magical abilities without the use of a wand, Potter. In order to do this, I need to have you try several different types of magic. You will do precisely as instructed, and follow my direction to the letter, in that understood, Mister Potter?”

Harry frowned for an instant, not sure he liked the Potions Master having total control, but remembered the conversation in the hospital wing, and attempted to calm his worries. “Yes, sir.” Looking up, his eyes locked for a moment with the glittering onyx eyes of Severus Snape. A feeling of trust passed between them, given, accepted, and given back. Harry relaxed as Snape nodded once and moved around to stand behind him.

“At the far end of the room, is a quaffle. I want you to close your eyes, and without moving or speaking, I want you to lift the quaffle in the air and make it circle around us.”

Harry closed his eyes as instructed, and concentrated on making the red ball move, but nothing happened. With a frown, he snapped his eyes open. Glaring at the quaffle sitting on the floor, he was encouraged that it seemed to be quiver slightly. Closing his eyes, he tried to visualize the ball flying around the room, but still nothing happened.

“Harry, close your eyes.” Snape’s voice was a low murmur, and Harry felt the man take hold of his shoulders, the long fingers gripping lightly. “Reach inside yourself and visualize your magical core as a living, pulsing energy force. Can you feel it?”

Harry closed his eyes again, and relaxed. He cleared his mind of all his thoughts and anxieties, concentrating on the low voice. Turning inward he focused on his magic, envisioning a ball of golden light inside his chest, and nodded his head fractionally.

“Good. Now focus on your magic, draw it up through your body, and use the medallion as you would your wand to focus and direct your magic at the quaffle. Can you do that?’

Envisioning a stand of golden magic being pulled up from the globe of light, Harry carefully focused on pushing it out through the Phoenix at the red ball across the room. Eyes still closed, he pictured the beam of magic enveloping the quaffle, lifting it and propelling it in a lazy circle around them.

“Concentrate, now open your eyes.”

Slowly opening his eyes, Harry looked toward the ball, but it wasn’t there. Just then, the quaffle slowly pasted his eyes as it revolved around them. He started and gasped, the ball dropping to the floor instantly.

“Potter!” Snape’s voice was harsh, but the steady, gentle hands on his shoulders belayed the tone.

Instantly, Harry closed his eyes again and refocused. He visualized the globe, the strand of magic, the Phoenix, and the quaffle in rapid succession. He felt the ball circling them again lazily, he focused, and slowly opened his eyes, grinning as the quaffle flew by.

“Good. Now, what else can you make it do?” Snape’s voice was once again a low murmur.

Encouraged, Harry made the quaffle speed up, and sent it looping the room in tight spirals. He kept the quaffle moving for several minutes, until he felt the fingers tighten slightly on his shoulders. Harry set the quaffle back down at the far end of the room. Looking up, he waited silently for the next instructions.

Over the next half hour, using the same methods of visualizing and directing, Harry was able to transfigure the quaffle into a table, turn it purple, and shrink in to the size of an apple. He then turned it into a tall candle. As he was trying to send an incendiary curse at it to light it, Harry was starting to feel tired, and was not having as much success. On the third try, a throb went through his scar, and Harry stiffened. Snape had dropped his hands and had taken a step back as Harry went through the transfiguration exercises. He stepped back up close again and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“Do you want to stop now or take a break? Wandless magic is more tiring than regular magic.” His voice was pitched low again.

Harry shook his head. “No, I’d like to try again, sir.”

“Alright, Potter, but don’t let it frustrate you to the point of anger, as I have experienced what your magic can do when you are angry, and we have accomplished much already tonight.”

Harry cleared his mind and drew his focus to the golden ball of magic, drawing out a strand of magic, and had just sent it through the Phoenix, when his scar exploded in white-hot pain. The room tilted and went black as he felt himself falling back.

The night had a red hue as he watched the carnage spread in front of him, blood blended with water from spewing pipes, and red spell light flashed. Screams rented the night air as he watched his newest followers rape and torture like a benevolent benefactor, laughing in delight as the front of the building exploded in flame. The Dark Mark shimmered like green stars overhead, and he laughed maniacally even as pain arrowed through him.

Hands caught at him and he fought against them, the cold laughter still ringing in his ears, his head searing with unbelievable pain and his scar on fire.

“Harry!”

He struggled to latch on to the familiar voice like a lifeline to sanity, his body held immobile from head to toe, but safe his instincts told him. Trying to bank the fire that threatened to engulf his mind, Harry dredged up the strength to trust the hands, and turned inward, summoning the trill of Phoenix song. The laughter shifted to despair as he smoothed the walls, checking his defenses and vaguely felt the long cool fingers brush across his forehead as awareness seeped in.

Shakily, Harry drew in a trembling breath that broke on a sob, and he relaxed into the warmth of the arms that were holding him secure. His stomach churched as images relayed behind his closed eyes. He pushed away as his stomach heaved, and one set of arms released him, and caught at his shoulders from the front, directing them to the side as the second set continued to support him. He retched painfully, his head pounding, and his body trembling.

“Easy, Harry, we’ve got you, just relax.”

His breath hitching on another sob, Harry forced his eyes open to find himself sprawled across Remus’ lap, Snape knelt beside them, holding his shoulders, as the Headmaster stood over them, a hand resting on Harry’s head. Giving in to the warmth, Harry sagged into his godfather’s chest, burying his face. Comforting hands rubbed gentle circles between his shoulders, as he felt Remus tighten his hold.

Renewed horror had Harry pushing away from the warmth seconds later, gasping. “Professor, he’s in London.,.” Harry looked up at Dumbledore.

“Tell me what you saw, Harry.” Dumbledore told him quietly, concern darkening his blue eyes, the long fingers gently stroking his hair in the manner that Harry found calming.

“At a club, where muggles go to dance…they were hurting people, torturing them for fun, but that was only after they had destroyed the flats above the club…wizard flats.” Harry shuddered, looking up. “Percy Weasley was in one of the apartments…” His voice was strained. “And Voldemort was celebrating the induction of his newest followers.” Harry turned his head, his anguished green eyes seeking out Snape. “The sons of his inner circle were allowed to have…fun with the muggles, raping and killing…”

Dumbledore’s hand stilled on his head. “Thank you, Harry, I must go, but I want you to tell Remus and Severus as much detail as you can.” He was gone in a swish of robes.

Harry closed his eyes and sagged again, willing his body to stop shaking, as the pain in his head eased fractionally. He breathed deeply, in and out.

“Let’s get him up, Remus.”

Harry found himself hoisted to his feet by Snape, who steadied him while his guardian stood. A black leather couch appeared, and Harry was eased down on it. Remus summoned his jumper from across the room, sitting beside him and helped Harry struggle into it.

“Drink this, it should help.” Harry looked up as the Potion Master held a vial of pale blue potion to his lips, and he drank it obediently. Almost instantly, his stomach settled, the throbbing in his head eased, and he felt the shakiness leave.

“Thank you, sir, it does help.” Harry told the dark haired man as he leaned into Remus’ side.

“Good, I’ll brew enough then to have on hand for you. Snape conjured a wing-backed chair, and pulled it in front of the couch.

Remus put his arm around Harry’s shoulder as he took a deep breath and relayed his vision to the two men in as much detail as he could remember. Faltering over the description of the violent acts he had witnessed, he doggedly pushed on. At Snape’s quiet promoting, Harry described the hooded figures in best he could as to how they were built and mannerisms.

“Yes, I believe that would be Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Malfoy.” Snape nodded. “They were not happy when I told the House before the holidays that anyone who took the Dark Mark would be expelled, and that I would be checking them when they got back. Interesting.” He fell silent and appeared lost in thought.

Harry glanced over the older man’s shoulder and was surprised to see the far end of the room appeared charred. His eyes flew back to Snape.

“It would seem that your last attempt to light the candle has a bit too much power behind it, Potter, but the Room will repair the damage to itself.”

Leaving the Room of Requirement, they made their way to the Headmaster’s office, where Harry was surprised to find a somber Professor McGonagall and a tray of tea waiting for them. Taking one of the three chairs in front of the desk, Harry had barely seated himself before the empty fireplace flared with emerald-green flame and Albus Dumbledore stepped gracefully out. With a grim set to his face, the Headmaster moved to sit down behind his desk.

“Ten dead and many injured both muggles and wizards.” Dumbledore stated wearily. “The muggle authorities have been persuaded to believe that this was the work of Irish terrorists, and the Aurors are still on scene.” He looked at Harry over the half-moon spectacles, the normal twinkle in the blue eyes noticeably absent. “Young Percy has been seriously injured, but is expected to recover.”

Harry felt numb with relief, knowing what it would do to Mrs. Weasley if something had happened to her estranged son.

“Molly and Arthur are with him at St. Mungo’s, Harry.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Albus Dumbledore looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest on Harry. “Lord Voldemort has started his campaign of terror in earnest, and is clearing looking to terrify both the muggle and magical worlds. We must be prepared to protect Hogwarts and its students against an inevitable attack, whether from within or from the outside.”

Harry shivered at the finality of the older man’s tone.