Chapter Thirty Seven - The Chessmaster Departs

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the proverbial Duchess of Magic, JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. No matter how much I whine about not owning anything related to the HP universe, other than a few fanfic plots, I do not profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world... Damn it!

A/N: Because I'm feeling generous, and because I know folks don't like authors to end on a cliffhanger, I've released this chapter early. At 12,000 plus words it's also the longest chapter to date. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Thirty Seven - The Chessmaster Departs

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

As he stepped out, Harry first looked towards the left to see if there were Death Eaters in that direction. Seeing none, he looked down to the right and saw what he expected.

A small group of over half a dozen masked Death Eaters were making their way up the Alley and casting dark spells about them with complete abandon and cackling laughter.

As he stepped more fully into the street both girls took up positions either side of him and just behind with both wands at the ready.

"Let's do this," said Harry, with not a little firmness and anger.

Being powerful enough to cast it, Harry immediately cast an anti-portkey jinx and an anti-apparition jinx over the group to stop any from making a quick getaway. With all six wands the three then began to cast bludgeoners, bone-breakers, piercing curses and similar straight into the group of six; who stupidly were grouped together, making themselves both a big and single target.

Four were down before they even knew someone was casting back. Another two were down once they did but weren't fast enough to get shields up. One immediately attempted to portkey away, couldn't, and ran far enough away he could, leaving two. He was just lucky he had stumbled at the right moment to avoid two curses sent his way by Harry and Daphne.

Meanwhile, both wives were shielding with one wand while casting with the other.

As soon as a Death Eater tried to cast the killing curse back, Daphne already had a marble block conjured to the side ready for Harry to use. He immediately summoned it and levitated it in front of the curse before banishing its remains with terrific force straight back at the Death Eater who cast the curse. That one was the last to go down; his body was near-mush.

The three quickly checked their environment for any more hostiles before moving forward. As they walked, all three allowed their second wands to pop back into their disillusioned holsters.

"First things first," said Harry as he stepped into the anti-portkey jinxed area. "Accio portkeys."

Over a dozen flew to his off hand. Most were no more than a short piece of thick black thread and perfect for hiding inside the pocket of a black robe. None were any bigger than a Galleon coin.

Hermione handed him a small plastic bag, and Harry dropped them within.

As he worked on the portkey collection and bagging, Daphne was forcing sleeves up to bare Dark Marks and banishing masks. And Hermione summoned all their wands and dropped them into another bag.

They had managed to take down Nott, both Carrow siblings, Selwyn, and others none of them knew by name. Nott was the inner circle Death Eater, according to the silver patterns on his mask, and appeared to have led the attack.

They had finished and were looking around for further threats as shopkeepers and shoppers alike were coming out of stores and from where they had hid.

Harry was fuming. They had all run and hid, allowing the Death Eaters free rein to do as they pleased.

Looking around with an angry glare, he bellowed, "Is there a bloody healer among you?"

"Err... yes," said one middle aged witch. "I'm a medi-witch."

"And what the bloody hell are you doing just standing there?" he snarled. Pointing a finger back down the Alley "There are people hurt down there! If you're too much of a fucking coward to raise your wand to defend yourself and yours, at least make yourself fucking useful and treat the injured!"

As the witch bent down to start treating the Death Eaters, Harry snarled, "Not these douchebags! Their victims!" Looking around again he barked, "If there are any of you with a modicum of first aid knowledge, go help her!"

That had the medi-witch and a few others running off back down the Alley.

"As for the rest of you dickwads," he snarled, glaring about. "Look how many of you there are. Look how many of these masked thugs there are! You had them well and truly outnumbered.

"You know Riddle is back! Many of you were about in the previous wizarding war and know what they're capable of if no one stands against them. Why the fuck aren't you preparing yourselves, yeah? What the hell is wrong with you people? Stop acting like fucking defenceless sheep in the face of a pack of wolves and train yourselves!"

"But... that's what the aurors and hit wizards are for," bleated one from within the crowd.

"Really?" scoffed Harry. "And just where the fuck are they, hey? If that's the job of aurors and hit wizards, then why aren't they here to rescue your cowardly arses? Hmm? Maybe... just, maybe... they think you already carry a wand and at least have the common sense you were fucking born with to defend yourselves until they could get here!

"It seems to me they've radically underestimated the combined cowardice and stupidity of the average witch and wizard!

"We three school children were able to take down these thugs in only a few moments without any injury to ourselves. For Merlin's sake, we haven't even entered our OWL year yet! And yet we still took them down."

"Aurors!" came a bark from behind them.

As the crowd parted Harry turned and saw Rufus Scrimgeour leading the way. He snarked, "Well; if it isn't the 'Johnny-come-latelys' finally putting in an appearance. I hope this isn't what you'd call a rapid response to a life and death situation. We could have held a fucking bake sale while we were waiting for you to finally finish your morning teas, get off your arses and get here!"

"That's enough, Mister Potter," snapped Scrimgeour.

"No, Master Auror Scrimgeour," he snapped back. "It's nowhere near enough! If you people don't hurry up and switch on, Lord Voldemort will be your Emperor within the year! Get your shit together or practice getting on your knees and kissing his toes. That is your future; and that is, of course, if you manage to live that fucking long!"

Firmly stepping in front of Harry and between him and Scrimgeour, Hermione held out the two bags. "Auror," she firmly said. "These are the portkeys that we found on them. And, these are their wands. I suggest you cast the Prior Incantation charm on them to find out who cast what. You'll also see evidence of the killing curse being used."

As Daphne tried to pull him away, Harry snarled at the auror, "I see eight of Riddle's thugs on the ground here, Scrimgeour. I better see eight people in front of the Wizengamot on trial within the week, heard that they're dead, or I'll be coming directly to you to find out why."

"Some of these folks are seriously injured!" said one of the aurors looking down at the Death eaters. He then looked at the bondmates and said, "You're not going anywhere, Potter. You're under arrest."

"Oh, don't be a fucking idiot," barked Harry back, bracing against Daphne pulling him away. "They're all marked, they're all wearing the regalia of Riddle's thugs, and they were all attacking first! Its self defence as per wizarding law, moron!"

"Kennedy; shut it!" barked Scrimgeour, staring the man down. "Mister Potter is correct. He's free to go." And, turning to Harry, he snarled, "And he is going; right now."

Harry finally allowed Daphne to pull him away and back to where Deece and Astoria were now standing outside Madam Malkin's. Astoria was looking at the three in not a little awe.

"Come!" said Deece. "We need to leave here, now." And she turned and quickly led the way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Once back at the Farm, and after a bollicking from both Deece and his wives, Harry was more than ready to just sit down and sulk.

He might have sat in a chair for a lot of what happened; especially after clothes shopping for him was completed; but he remained tense in his wooden chair from having to focus so much. He needed to ensure he didn't stick his foot in his mouth when his opinion was asked for; and just saying 'It's nice' was nowhere near enough 'opinion' for the girls. He was just thankful opinions were not required for school uniforms, as there were no choices to be made except for footwear.

Then, adding to that was the battle in the Alley with the Death Eaters and its aftermath.

"Right," he groaned sitting on the edge of the bed, among the shrunken packages. "All we gotta do now is unshrink all this, put most of it away, as it won't be coming to Hogwarts with us, and pack uniform and clothing for Hogwarts."

""Wrong, Mister," said Daphne. "First, we go through our closets and robes pulling out everything that no longer fits. For you, that is at a minimum every pair of trousers, long-sleeved shirt and pull-over. Your foot size has also increased, so that's also your footwear; shoes and socks. As for clothing, almost all of it will be coming since we now have our own wardrobes."

Hermione added, "I also want to have a look at your t-shirts, underwear and such. You might not have noticed you've broadened at your shoulders and across your chest, but we have. And, anything that is either worn out or too small will also be tossed. We'll replace them tomorrow, if need be."

"Underwear and such gets tossed in the rubbish," said Daphne. "But, anything worn outside of that gets set aside. That all goes to the second-hand collectors for charity collections."

Knowing he'd already lost the argument before he could even begin, Harry stood up again with a sigh and said, "Alright. Where do you want me to begin?" Clearly, his day was not over just yet.

About ninety minutes later, Harry had managed to throw out just about everything he wore. With the exception of a few short-sleeved t-shirts just about every shirt he owned was long-sleeved. And he only owned one pair of mid-calf cargo pants, a pair of swimmers and a pair of shorts. All other pants were long trousers. Even his overrobes got turfed as the sleeves were now too short.

Thankfully, very little of his underwear needed replacing except for all his socks. All his shoes now went, except for one pair of runners he swore black and blue were now very comfortable.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Later that afternoon the three were visited by Madam Bones with Shacklebolt and another auror Harry didn't recognise.

Matthias ushered them into his downstairs office to 'chat'.

After everyone was comfortable, Madam Bones sighed and turned to Harry. "Mister Potter, I've received a fair number of complaints about your actions and words in the Alley, this morning.

"Most of those complaints were to do with the way you... spoke to the crowd. You were reported to have used offensive language in the presence of young witches and wizards; and their parents, for a start, are not happy about that."

"Noted," said Harry.

"No words in your defence?" she asked.

Instead of snapping back at her, as he wanted, he reined in his temper and said, "I... apologise for the use of swear words. However, I will not apologise for the message. Someone needed to smack them for their cowardice and inactivity. It just happened it was me who did it."

"You cannot expect them to stand a reasonable defence..." she said.

"Of course I can," he sneered back. "Every witch and wizard out there, over the age of about eleven, carries on their person at all times a deadly weapon, and every one of those over the approximate age of about fourteen has the ability to use it as such. It's called a wand.

"Before much longer I'm going to be referred to as 'The Chosen One'. The one... chosen... to defeat Riddle. Well, in that, they're right; I am. However, it's not my responsibility to take care of all his thugs.

"The wizarding populace allowed their previous Minister to run down the auror and hit wizard forces. Now, you no longer have sufficient of either to protect their arses. Therefore, it's up to them to do it for themselves. That's what I effectively told them in the Alley today. They just didn't like hearing it.

"Go to the Prophet and state that. It's time to scare the absolute crap out of the populace and make them start thinking of their own safety. It's time for them to stop being victims and time to start being responsible. Stop being sheep.

"If they are unwilling to make the effort, I'm telling you now, I flatly refuse to bail them out.

"And Dumbledore won't be able to save them, either. He's currently dying. He does not have all that much time to live."

With the vehemence used and the shock of Harry's words ringing in her ears, Madam Bones soon left again.

"It is not wise to make an enemy of Amelia, Harry," Matthias softly said.

"It is not my intent," said Harry. "They need to be shocked out of their current denial and take ownership of their own destinies. If they don't, we all lose."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Death Eaters Attack Diagon Alley in Broad Daylight

Boy-Who-Lived Foils Attack

Late morning yesterday, I witnessed our very own hero of the Wizarding world, Mr Harry Potter (15), and his wives, Mrs Daphne Greengrass-Potter (15) and Mrs Hermione Granger-Potter (15), stop an attack by Death Eaters in the middle of the busy thoroughfare of Diagon Alley, reports special correspondent Rita Skeeter.

At the time, the Alley was bustling with shoppers enjoying the warm morning escorting children and purchasing their supplies for another year at Hogwarts. However they arrived there, the small group of Death Eaters were soon walking up the Alley firing dark curses about, and were outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour when the three teens confronted them. The Death Eaters had already injured a number of upstanding wizarding citizens and not a few muggleborns. One such had been killed by the killing curse shot at him by one of the Death Eaters only moments before the three teens confronted them.

Mr Potter and his wives quickly subdued the Death Eaters and waited on scene for the arrival of the aurors. It was some time before they arrived.

Some credit the Potters with saving their lives with their rapid and effective response to the emergency. "I had already been hit with what felt like a bone-breaker to the leg. If it wasn't for Harry and his wives I'd be dead," claimed one elderly wizard.

However, not everyone had praise for the Potters. "They were brutal!" exclaimed one witch who witnessed the whole thing. "Potter and his wives didn't even ask them to surrender before cutting them down."

However you viewed it, the Potters worked fast and efficiently. From the moment of first confrontation to the end was less than thirty seconds. And nine Death Eaters were stopped in their tracks.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

It was the evening before the train ride back to Hogwarts when Harry entered their room growing concerned about the amount of packing he heard was coming from within. Walking in Harry saw the girls were almost finished packing and now had five trunks to take with them when they returned to Hogwarts.

"What in Merlin's name?" asked a shocked Harry, looking at the pile - two by two with one on top.

"The top one is your clothes and some books," said Hermione, pointing. "The next one down on the left is books, and below that is writing supplies, pet supplies, potion tools, telescopes, ladies make-up and a few other things. The two trunks on the right are mine and Daphne's clothes. And we think we're going to need to add another trunk yet."

"We're only supposed to be allowed one trunk each!" he exclaimed.

"Well, that might be fine for an eleven year old, but it's definitely not fine for a married woman," said Daphne. "We could have purchased mokeskin-lined trunks with space expansion charms to get past the one trunk per student limit; but, since we have our trunks brought to the castle by house elves, and we don't share a dorm with others, that rule shouldn't apply to us."

Harry just sighed. "Fine," he grouched. "I'm just thankful I don't have to move them all."

He was about to leave again when he asked, "Just where did the extra trunks come from, anyway?"

"Storage," replied Daphne. "They're old school trunks belonging to my parents and other relatives from their time at Hogwarts."

When Harry returned down to the public part of the house, Matthias asked him, "What has you, apparently, annoyed?"

"Six trunks," he replied with a frown. "Six!"

With a knowing smile Matthias replied, "Then I think I know what Deece and I can buy you three for a Yuletide present; a mokeskin-lined trunk."

"If I'd known we'd be taking so much I would have bought one while we were in the Alley the other day," grouched Harry.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Both Sirius and Remus turned up at 10:00am the next morning to side-along apparate all four teens to Platform 9¾ at Kings Cross.

And, with last minute hugs goodbye, the four boarded the train.

The three bondmates immediately sought out a vacant compartment near where they knew their friends would attempt to track them down, and settled in; while Astoria headed towards the front of the train in search of her own friends.

They'd only been in the compartment for about fifteen minutes when Tracey walked in holding hands with Blaise.

"What's this?" asked a smirking Daphne.

Tracey immediately blushed and said, "We... decided to see if we could be more than just friends."

"It might sound cliché," said Hermione. "But, it's about time, you two."

Both looked a little relieved hearing that; and more fully entered the compartment to take seats.

"Where're your trunks?" asked Harry.

Blaise just smiled and tapped his pocket. "We decided to follow your lead. If luggage is being diverted between the train and our dorms, then we're not going to allow our possessions to be pawed through."

"Wise move," said Daphne.

"What about yours?" asked Tracey. "Did you shrink yours too?"

"Nope," replied Harry. "We left them in our room at Greengrass Farm. Dobby will transfer them all once we're there."

"He'll use that time to scan through our rooms for tracking and monitoring charms while he's at it," said Hermione.

"Do you expect there to be such?" asked Blaise.

"Not this time, no," shrugged Harry. "I'm expecting the ward scheme we set in place outside the door to our rooms to deny access to those who try to get in without our permission."

"But, better safe than sorry?" asked Blaise.

"Exactly," he smiled back.

They were soon joined by Luna, Horace, Neville... and Draco.

Surprised to see the blonde boy, Harry asked, "Coming out of the shadows, Draco?"

"It's time," the other boy firmly replied. "I doubt there is many in Riddle's ranks who don't know, by now."

Possibly noticing Horace for the first time, Draco looked at him and asked, "We're... not going to have trouble, are we?"

"No," Horace firmly said. "I only wish I was as brave."

"Slythindor!" coughed Harry, behind his hand.

"You'd know, Gryfferin," snorted Draco right back with a mock sneer.

"What did you two call each other?" asked Horace, clearly confused.

The two ex-nemeses grinned at each other, before Draco turned to Horace. "Potter, here, calls me a Slythindor. He thinks I'm a Slytherin with Gryffindor tendencies."

"And in return," added Harry. "Draco calls me a Gryfferin; a Gryffindor with Slytherin tendencies."

"In other words, two sides of the same coin," smirked Daphne.

"We are not," both boys scoffed together with a level of synchronicity not seen outside of the Weasley twins.

The shock of them doing so had everyone else in the compartment laughing at the two, now embarrassed, boys.

After a few minutes to allow them to get it out of their system, and near-desperately wanting to change the subject, Harry asked the others, "Alright. So, who here received a Prefect badge? Or, knows who did?"

"I did but sent it back," said Draco. "I thought Zabini should have it, and sent with it a letter stating so."

"And I got it," said Blaise. "Thank you for that, Malfoy."

Draco just gave a small nod back.

"I think Pansy got the other one for Slytherin," said Tracey.

"It should have been you," retorted Daphne to her friend.

"I didn't," said Neville. "I just hope it's not Ron Weasley. It will mean he wasn't forced to repeat the year, after all."

With snorts and scoffing sounds from everyone else, Harry said, "I think it's safe to say everyone agrees with you."

With a nod and small smile, Neville said, "I know Hannah got the female one for the 'Puffs. I'm not sure about anyone else, though."

"I thought you'd get one, Potter," said Blaise. "And the other for Ravenclaw would be either Daphne or Hermione."

"One was me," replied Hermione. "I turned it down and suggested Lisa Turpin for the role. She was the only girl in our year that didn't pick on Luna. I don't think bullies should be given such a responsible position."

"It will be Lisa and Terry," Luna said quite matter-of-factly.

"As Luna says, so it is," said Hermione.

"Huh?" asked Tracey, quite confused.

"We've learned when and where to take Luna's word for it," explained Hermione. "If she says its Lisa and Terry, then its Lisa and Terry."

The rest of the ride passed with the teens talking about their summers. The three, by mutual agreement, refused to state where they'd spent their two week honeymoon; even when pestered. However, they were more than willing to speak about the rest of the summer.

Neville, after doing a bit of muggle handyman work on the Granger residence, was now more than willing to put in the hard work in building a large deck onto the rear of Longbottom Hall. However, it had taken him quite some time to convince his father of the utility of such a deck. But, he got the permission shortly before he departed for Platform 9¾ with his parents. He was now looking forward to organising and building it; and asked Hermione if he could ask her father to help design it.

Hermione smiled and said, "I think he'd like that, Neville."

They were nearing the final half hour of the trip when the door of their compartment was yanked open by a furious Ron Weasley.

"This is your fault, Potter," he snarled.

"What the hell is your problem, Weasley?" shot back Daphne.

"McGonagall's trying to force me to repeat the year," he snarled. "I'm not putting up with it. Mum's been speaking with Professor Dumbledore to make sure her decision is overturned.

"If it wasn't for Potter and Granger I wouldn't have had such a hard time and failed the year."

"Oh, bullshit!" scoffed Harry. "You failed because you're a lazy git. And, as per usual, you want to blame everyone else for your lot in life. You failed because you prefer spending all your time playing chess and reading Quidditch magazines. If you want to pass pick up a bloody school text book, occasionally."

As Harry berated the other boy, Weasley's face turned redder and redder. Once Harry finished he then immediately made a snatch for his wand.

As soon as his wand came into view, Daphne simply reached over and snatched it out of his hand, before then throwing it over his shoulder and back out into the passageway.

"Why, you filthy...!" the prat said, stepping forward with his hands coming up.

Harry hit him with a banishing hex and blasted him back out into the passageway; where he immediately collapsed to the floor after bouncing off the opposite wall.

"Idiot!" Harry sneered at his ex-friend.

Daphne slammed the door shut, and Harry hit it with a door sealing charm.

When the train pulled into the Hogsmeade station Weasley was well and truly gone again.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

When the group arrived at the castle they were met by Professor McGonagall.

"Mister Potter, the Headmaster asks if you wouldn't mind having a word with him," she said. "It is a request, this time, rather than a summons."

Seeing the look on her face, he said, "Irrespective of the wording, I still refuse to be in his presence alone."

With a sad sigh, she said, "You need not worry about him any more, Mister Potter. The Headmaster is in the infirmary. It is likely he'll never leave it alive."

Realising what had happened, Harry turned to his wives and silently asked if they should attend the manipulative old man.

Turning back, he said, "We shall visit with him after class, tomorrow, Professor."

McGonagall nodded back and moved away.

As they moved to sit at the Ravenclaw table, Hermione was furiously thinking about something. It had to be big as she was nibbling on her bottom lip over it. Harry thought it was such a sexy thing she did he just wanted to dive in and kiss her.

As they sat, she leaned in to Harry and whispered, "The timing's about right. From the time the old man went after the ring to today matches well enough to when he thought he'd die in the old time."

"Yeah," he replied. "That's what I figured, too."

As the tables settled down, the three looked to the front of the Hall to see the Headmaster's 'throne' empty. However, Professor McGonagall was sitting in the chair alongside. Seeing her there, Harry frowned and wondered who was bringing the new firsties in. And that was immediately apparent, as the seat adjacent to Professor McGonagall's seat was empty. That was Professor Flitwick's chair.

A further scan of the tables gave Harry a shock. There, grinning back at him was his godfather.

"Bloody Hell!" he whispered.

"Language!" snapped Hermione, quietly. "What brought that on?"

Turning to her with a grin, he said, "Take a look at who's sitting in the Dah-Dah Professor's chair next to greasy old Snivellus."

Both Hermione's and Daphne's eyes snapped to the head table. And Hermione gasped in shock.

"Sirius is the new Dah-dah Professor?" she asked, completely surprised.

"It... appears so," said Daphne. "And I've not seen in a long time that expression of extreme displeasure on Professor Snape's face."

Hermione appeared about to ask another question when Professor Flitwick came walking in, followed by the new crop of first years. Most of them actually stood much taller than him.

It was also a little humorous to watch him reach up with the Hat to place it on the head of the first student called to the stool; Euan Abercrombie.

As soon as he managed to place the Hat on the child's head, he immediately cast a conjuration and created a step platform to stand on. He'd just mounted it when the Hat called, "Gryffindor!" And he was able to pluck it back off young Mister Abercrombie's head.

From there, the sorting went much as expected. Harry was even able to remember which House some of the students were sorted into from the previous go-around.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

The next morning, as the three were seated in the Great Hall for breakfast, Professor Flitwick moved down the table handing out class schedules. When he reached the three he handed them their schedules and said, "The Headmaster is asking after you again. He wonders if you'd mind visiting him before class, rather than after."

"We said after, it will be after, Professor," replied Daphne. "But, thank you for passing on the message."

The Professor simply gave a slight bow back before continuing on down the table handing out schedules.

"Pushy old... so-and-so," growled Harry almost sotto voce.

After a morning of Double Potions, where Snape appeared to be even more the teacher he could be rather than the mongrel he was in their first three years, the three headed to the Great Hall for morning tea. Then it was straight on to a double of History of Magic. A full morning.

By the time they joined Luna at the table for lunch they knew they were studying for their OWL year. Snape made sure they knew that with his usual first lesson spiel; with this one saying how he believed most of them would fail and that it would be to the betterment of society if they did.

First class after lunch was a single for Ancient Runes, where Harry was introduced to the rest of the small class, then a double for DADA.

Walking in, the three made sure they had their wands out before walking in the door and ready to cast shields. Thankfully, it was not necessary. Sirius was sitting perched on the edge of the Professor's desk quietly watching everyone file in. This year, the class was with the Gryffindors.

As everyone found their seats and sat down, Sirius didn't move except for a very small smirk towards the three bondmates' direction.

Though everyone was sitting, a few in Gryffindor... plus Mandy Brocklehurst and Padma Patil... were still chatting between themselves.

Sirius calmly drew his wand and fired a cannon blast towards the ceiling. That caused a few who weren't paying attention to scream in fright and try to dive under their desks.

He waited a few moments, as they realised there was no threat and returned to their seats, before he almost softly said, "When you enter my classroom I expect you to come in ready to learn. If you want to chat, get out. This is not your afternoon knitting circle and gossip fest."

That had their attention. "My name is Professor Sirius Black."

That earned him a few quiet gasps. However, Sirius continued on as if he hadn't heard anything, even though Harry knew he did. Excellent hearing was a positive side effect of his animagus form. "I am, of course, this year's Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"For those unaware of my background, I hold a Mastery in Defence; and NEWT Outstandings in Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions. I am an 'ex' Hit Wizard, and served as such in the previous war. I have fought dark wizards in battle and killed. And, it is with that experience, I am going to teach you the basics you need to defend yourself if you are attacked.

"If I discover you have taken my teachings and used them to attack innocents, you can expect I will personally hunt you down and deal with you for the insult. If necessary, I will use lethal force. Do not make me do that."

He allowed his eyes to roam about the very silent and very still room, making sure to stare at every student for a moment as he did so.

"I have reviewed the work of my predecessors over the previous four years and am, frankly, appalled. With the exception of Professor Lupin in your third year - and, surprisingly, the fake Professor Moody last year - your instruction has been sorely lacking. We are going to work hard to rectify that.

Without even looking down, he picked up a sheet of parchment and quill off the desk alongside him. "When I call out your name, respond with a 'Here'. If someone doesn't respond with such, I will want to know why.

"Boot, Terry..."

"Here, Professor."

"Corner, Michael..."

"Here, Professor."

Harry was very amused when Sirius called out, "Granger-Potter, Hermione," and then, "Greengrass-Potter, Daphne."

Sirius didn't allow his expression to change one iota as he read them out and moved on.

Once he'd finished calling the roll, he placed the parchment back down on his desk and stood. He looked around the room once before his gaze zeroed in on Seamus Finnegan.

"Mister Finnegan," he called. "What is the best defence against someone casting a curse at you?"

"Ummm..." stuttered the boy. "A... protego?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Sirius immediately asked right back.

"Telling, Professor," replied the Irish lad, more firmly that time.

"Better," said Sirius. "But, also nowhere near fast enough. By the time you figured out to cast a Protego shield the curse would have been close enough to hit you before you got your shield up.

"Mister Boot," he next asked. "Is he correct?"

"Yes, Professor," Terry immediately replied.

"I like your confidence, Mister Boot," said Sirius. "But, as I never defined what the curse was that was cast, there's a good chance you're wrong.

"If the curse was red, would your shield charm have worked?"

"Yes, Professor," the boy replied.

"Why?"

"Because you cast a stunner at me," Terry confidently replied.

"I did not," replied Sirius. "I cast the Cruciatus curse at you. It is the same colour as the Stunner but cannot be completely blocked by a Protego. I hope you like pain, Mister Boot. You're currently suffering from a lot of it.

"However, you weakened the curse with your confidently cast Protego. Five points to Ravenclaw.

"Missus Greengrass-Potter, what should Misters Finnegan and Boot have thought to do first?"

"Stepped out of the way, Professor," Daphne confidently replied.

"Correct," said Sirius. "Stepping aside should always be your first choice, if it's an option. Stepping aside allows you to cast your own attack, rather than hold a shield, and won't drain your magical reserves. The more you have left in reserve, compared to your opponent, could be the difference between you staying alive or winding up dead. Five points to Ravenclaw."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Just as the class ended, Sirius asked the bondmates to stay back.

They calmly sat at their desks as the rest of the class filed out, chattering excitedly about what they'd learned.

When the last one passed through the door, Sirius cast an underpowered banisher to carefully but firmly slam the door shut.

As soon as he did, he slumped where he was, leaned back on the front edge of the desk and sighed. With a chuckle he looked to the three and said, "Damn, that was scary."

The three laughed back and Hermione said, "You shouldn't be. That was the most brilliant class we've ever had in Defence."

"It's kind of you to say so," he replied with a small smile.

"No, she's just telling the truth," said Harry. "You really were brilliant. You'll be the talk of the tables at dinner, tonight."

"You had them in the palm of your hand within seconds of casting that cannon blast charm," said Daphne. "Merlin! I thought a couple of them were going to pass out from lack of oxygen with the way they were all intensely holding their breaths, afraid to miss even the tiniest bit of information. They were enthralled."

Sirius gave a little nod of acceptance before he took a breath and asked, "Now, is this your last class of the day?"

All three nodded back.

"Dumbledore asked us to stop by in the infirmary, though," said Harry. "We told Professor McGonagall we'd visit him after class today."

"In that case, I'll come with," he said, standing up. "He's dying. But, I still don't trust him not to try anything. It's why I accepted the post."

As they walked to the infirmary, Harry looked to his godfather and said, "I noticed Ron Weasley's name wasn't called out when you took roll. Neither did he attend. What's going on there?"

"Mister Weasley, the youngest, was failed for his fourth year and forced to redo it," smirked Sirius. "I have a feeling the number of howlers Dumbledore received about that over the break may have been one of the reasons he's now in the infirmary."

While the three snickered or giggled, as the case may be, Sirius continued, "Molly tried to force the issue. Dumbledore went to Aunt Minnie and said he was going to override her decision to hold the boy back a year, so Minnie then let him have it. I think Dumbledore realised he had to share a castle with her, so finally relented and was forced to tell Molly that Ron either repeated the year or she could withdraw him from Hogwarts.

"Molly even went to the Board of Governors to get them to overrule Dumbledore and Minnie but they backed Minnie to the hilt. As such, Ron's again in fourth year this year."

Trying to muffle his own laughter, Harry had tears in his eyes and a red face before he finally said, "I... I bet he really appreciates that. And I can see him trying to force his sister to do his homework for him now."

"That won't work," smirked Sirius. "I'm told his brothers and sister read him the riot act on the train. Apparently, the argument was so loud Prefects had to be called in to ensure 'Ronnikins' made it to the castle on his own two feet."

"The twins were that hard on him?" asked Hermione.

"No; Ginny," replied Sirius with a grin. "The twins were, on one hand, threatening Ron with vile retribution; while also holding Ginny back from hexing him right into the infirmary right there and then."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

When the four walked into the Infirmary a few minutes later, they guessed that Dumbledore was in the bed at the end; what with the screens around the bed and him not in any of the others.

Sirius then led them down the length of the ward, told them to hold a moment, and ducked in through a gap in the screens. A moment later, he poked his head out and said, "Come in."

When the three filed in and around the foot of the bed it was to see the old man lying under his covers with a grey pallor to his complexion. It also appeared he'd lost some weight. And Harry also noticed the dark edge of the withering curse on the side of his neck.

"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore, quite softly, "Thank you for coming." He then turned to Sirius and said, "Thank you for bringing young Harry, Sirius. You may go."

Sirius just snorted back and said, "I'm not going anywhere, Dumbledore. You may die before anyone can get you into a defendant's chair; but, that still doesn't mean a trial for your actions is not on the books."

Dumbledore frowned in annoyance and tried a different tack. "I need to discuss some matters with young Harry that are both of a sensitive nature and confidential. I'm sure you can see your way to allowing us a little privacy for a few minutes."

"Nope. I can't," replied Sirius. "I stay; or we all leave."

With another sigh, Dumbledore tried again. "In that case, I'm afraid I must insist that you give an oath that what..."

"No," Sirius firmly said, glowering back. "No oaths, no unbreakable vows, no nothing. This is now your last chance, Dumbledore. Say what you need to say, or you never see any of these three again."

Dumbledore was clearly shocked by the vehemence in Sirius's snapped interruption. He looked from Sirius to Harry and on to his two wives. All looked back resolute. There would clearly be no speaking to Harry alone.

With a sigh, he said, "What I need to talk about cannot be mentioned to others. If it gets out, through any means - potions, Legilimency, Imperius curse, compulsion charms, whatever - it could spell the doom for the entire world. That's why I insist on magical oaths. This information could trigger what the muggles refer to as Armageddon; the end of the world."

With a snort Harry snarked, "Wow! You almost have the impression of thunder and lightning, the screams of the souls of the damned, and other such imagery. In other words, you've set your scene. And, I must say, I'm utterly unimpressed."

Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "Would you mind throwing up some of your ward specials, love? I'll conjure us some stools."

While Hermione and Daphne threw up some powerful wards - Notice-me-not, silencing, avoidance and the like - Harry conjured four padded stools with seat backs for the four of them. He chose stools so they wouldn't be sitting in a position where they would need to look up slightly to see Dumbledore. That subtle little power play of height equals power was robbed of the old man.

Once everyone was sitting down, Dumbledore tried to begin. "Harry, what I have to tell you is..."

"Irrelevant," Harry rode over the top of the old man. "How about I tell you all your secrets relating to me and you tell me where I'm wrong."

Not waiting for Dumbledore to agree or disagree, Harry said, "You want to tell me that Riddle made horcruxes. That you believe there are six or, possibly seven, of them. And that you believe Riddle created an accidental horcrux and that it resides behind my scar. How am I doing so far?"

The look on Dumbledore's face was priceless. It even had both Sirius and Daphne snickering at the look on the old man's face.

"I see I have you absolutely astonished," said Harry. "Oh, and for your information, there's no such thing as an accidental horcrux."

"Next," said Hermione. "You want to tell us that there's a prophecy that states that Harry and Riddle have to face one another in battle. And that Harry has some mystical sort of power that will help him defeat Riddle. And, finally, that that power is the power of love."

Daphne took it from there. "The last little piece of knowledge is that, because of the so-called accidental horcrux behind Harry's scar, Harry has to die in order for Riddle to be defeated."

"How're we doing so far, Dumdum?" asked Harry.

"I... you're..." tried Dumbledore.

"Well, spit it out," said Sirius, choking back laughter.

"How do you know all this?" gasped Dumbledore.

"Because we know things you do not," said Harry. "And, we also know that you're close to the truth. But you're far enough away from it that, if steps hadn't been taken because of your utter foolishness, the future you supposedly foresaw could have happened would have come to pass.

"You, Dumbledore - because you didn't do the right things from the get-go - would have caused the destruction of the wizarding world to occur some time in the first decade of the twenty-first century," Harry continued. "Through your foolishness, without outside interference, you'd have utterly destroyed the magical world worldwide, and caused the death of billions of people."

"Wh... what?" stuttered Dumbledore. "But... my plans... it was all..."

"For nought and doomed to fail," said Harry. "Since September last year, we've been working hard to correct all the mistakes you made, to get everything back on track."

"Wh... what do you mean?" asked the old man.

"First, you've obviously studied horcruxes and how they're made," said Hermione. "You know Riddle had to perform a ritual to prepare his soul to be split. You also know the vessel he wanted to use to store that soul fragment also needed to be prepared through a ritual. So, let me ask you this; just when did Riddle prepare Harry's head to become a horcrux?"

The four sat there in silence as they watched the old man try to figure it out. When his eyes widened as he figured out the truth, Hermione smirked at him and said, "I see you've figured it out. It never happened!

"So, as a result, there is no way Harry's head could be a horcrux. As such, Harry doesn't have to die to ultimately defeat Riddle. You would have sent Harry on to his death, for no reason!"

"Now, you were correct in that a small piece of Riddle's soul lodged behind my scar," said Harry. "However, it was inert. It lacked any power to do anything, and my own magic held it safely cocooned to stop it trying to take me over, unlike what happened to Ginevra Weasley with the diary."

"And Harry is using past tense because it's now been dealt with," said Sirius. "It has been removed. It's gone!"

"But... this is good news!" said Dumbledore. "That means we can plan on how you..."

"We're not finished!" snapped Daphne. "That wasn't the only mistake you made. Not by a long shot."

"Your next mistake was in guessing the number of horcruxes made," she continued, once Dumbledore immediately shut up. "You believe he'd make six to split his soul seven ways; or make seven. You were banking on Riddle's belief in the magical power of seven.

"In a way, you were right. We believe seven was what he was aiming for. However, you didn't even take the time to consider that Riddle hadn't reached the number seven when he was killed in Godric's Hollow."

Again they went silent as they watched Dumbledore figure that out for himself.

When it appeared he did, Hermione continued. "At the time he attacked the Potters he had only made five. He was still looking for an artefact from Gryffindor to make his sixth. And he was aiming to make seven.

"The five he made were, in order: his diary, the Peverell ring, Ravenclaw's diadem, Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. We believe he was planning on making Harry's father's wand as one - or, something else belonging to the Potters - while he was looking for the Gryffindor artefact.

"He now more than likely knows Harry found Gryffindor's sword and used it to kill the basilisk - and suspects you have it in your office - so, he will want to hold off on making his final horcrux until he has the sword in his possession."

"That still leaves one," said Dumbledore. "I believe he will still want to make a horcrux belonging to the Potters or me."

"You're a bit up yourself, aren't you?" said Daphne. "He already made it. It was his familiar; a magical venomous python he named Nagini. It's now dead, destroying the horcrux in the process."

After a few moments where he was deep in thought, Dumbledore said, "That is excellent news. We should begin the search for the other containers immediately."

"Gods, you're daft!" said Sirius in exasperation. "Stop making plans and think, you old fool. How do you think it is these three know... not believe... know... what the other horcruxes are?"

Dumbledore frowned as his eyes unfocussed and he furiously thought about it. When his eyes, again, widened he looked back with shock. "You've already found them!" he gasped.

"Found them and stripped the soul fragments out of them," said Harry. "With the last of his horcruxes destroyed, Riddle is now mortal again. Of course, you already knew I'd destroyed the diary in our second year. It's what led you to understanding Riddle had actually made horcruxes.

"And you went after the ring when I gave you sufficient enough clues to lead you to it. I trust you've since destroyed it? Probably with the basilisk venom-imbued sword of Gryffindor, correct?"

"I..." began Dumbledore, before he clearly decided to be honest about it. "Yes. I destroyed it, as you surmised." With a slight start of another shock, Dumbledore fixed his eyes on Harry and said, "You knew! You sent me after the ring, on purpose!"

"Yes; but you also foolishly donned it before you dealt with it, didn't you?" replied Daphne. "That's what's currently killing you. A withering curse, right? And, it's your own stupid fault."

"Yes," sighed the old man. "I... there were enchantments on the ring. A compulsion charm tied to a withering curse. I... was a fool."

"Anything else you want to tell us about the ring?" asked Hermione. She was hoping the old man would now come clean; completely. Alas, she was disappointed.

"No," said Dumbledore.

Harry just sighed and shook his head. "Still with your stupid secrets, old man? You're very soon going to die and you still insist on holding on to secrets that are not yours to hold."

"I... don't know what you mean," he tried. Even then, he knew it was futile.

"We've known for quite some time that the stone affixed to the ring was the Resurrection Stone; specifically, the second Hallow. We also know my cloak is the True Cloak of Invisibility."

As Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise again, Harry then held up his right hand in a grasping gesture and firmly said, "Mine!"

The Elder Wand, where it lay on top of the bedside table, suddenly leapt off the table, soared through the air, and smacked into Harry's hand.

"And we also know this is the Elder Wand, and that I won it's allegiance off you when you attacked me with Legilimency back last September," said Harry, as he pocketed the wand. "You've known ever since then that the wand now rightfully belonged to me; and yet you did nothing about that. Shame on you."

"That means..." stuttered the old man.

"That I'm now the rightful possessor of two of the Hallows," said Harry. "And, when I go to your office, I'll have the third. And, I am the rightful owner of all three, as you well know. I'm the last descendant of the Peverells. That makes them family heirlooms of my family.

"However, I will not become the Master of Death, as legend would have you believe. The three Hallows are merely very powerful enchanted artefacts; nothing more."

"How do you know all this?" asked a very shocked Dumbledore.

"That is information you are not privy to know... yet. It's covered under family magics," said Harry. "You will, soon enough. And, it'll be at a time when you can't use it to make further plans; or, should I say, manipulations. Your days as the great chessmaster of the wizarding world are at an end; thank Merlin!"

"You've been played, Headmaster," said Daphne. "You... who is always quick to manipulate others for some stupidity you call The Greater Good... has had the tables turned on you since the beginning of the school year, last year.

"Remember that big scene in your office when Harry lost his temper with you and demanded you snap his wand? Harry was never going to leave the magical world. That was simply to make you think you had to dance to our tune, for a change. You were forced to make changes because, if you didn't, you believed Harry was going to leave. And you desperately needed him to stay because of the prophecy."

"I... you... what?" spluttered the old man, completely shocked.

"The next one was the Goblet of Fire incident," said Daphne, ignoring Dumbledore's protestations. "We already knew that wasn't the real Mad Eye Moody. We already knew he was the one who submitted Harry's name; just as you did. And, just as you did, we let it play out."

"I didn't..." tried the old man again.

"And don't try to tell any of us you didn't know he was a fake," she continued, riding straight over the top of him. "The man was supposed to be your friend of five decades. And, you couldn't tell he wasn't the real Moody?" She snorted. "You're either the most naïve man alive, or you knew. We know it was the latter."

Dumbledore just lay there, propped up on his pillows and looking completely gobsmacked.

"First year; that whole Philosopher's Stone nonsense," said Hermione. "We may not have known it was a bull-manure test for Harry back then. But, we know all you had to do was put the stone under the Fidelius charm to keep it safe. You could have even left it sitting on a bookshelf in your office under the charm and it would have been safe."

"Then there was how you supposedly had to go to the Ministry the night Quirrell made his play for the stone," said Daphne. "Supposedly, you left for the Ministry on a broom. Really? A broom? When you have a perfectly good fireplace connected to the Floo network in your office, a magical familiar that could phoenix flash you directly to the Minister's office, the ability to create portkeys that go right through both Hogwarts's and the Ministry's wards, and the ability to apparate from within Hogwarts directly to the apparation point in the atrium at the Ministry. And you expect us to believe you decided, in Autumn, at night, for a seven hour trip on a broom, to fly there? Ha!"

Harry cut in and said, "You gave yourself away on that one, old man, when you said to me, once I woke up after killing Quirrell, 'You did do the thing properly, didn't you?' That was one of your unintentional slip-ups that gave you away. It wasn't the only one, though. And it proved the whole thing was a test, for me."

"No! I..."

"Second year," continued Hermione. "I figured out it was a basilisk in only a couple of months, and with only eighteen months of magical education under my belt. You, with all your knowledge of all creatures great and small, knew what it was when young Mister Finch-Fletchley was petrified, at the latest! Moaning Myrtle was killed by the same petrification. The only beasts that can do that without leaving a mark are the medusa and the basilisk. Even I could then figure out it was the latter. After all, Slytherin and snakes go together so easily, don't they?"

"No... no..."

"When I was lying on my hospital bed having the bones in my arm regrown after Flophart vanished them, you brought young Mister Creevey in. He'd been petrified. When you opened the back of the camera, Madam Pomfrey mentioned how the whole insides of the camera had been melted. Professor McGonagall asked you what it meant. You replied, 'It means that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.' Which would mean you knew exactly what was causing the petrifications, or you were trying to make yourself seem more knowledgeable than you were, and was actually full of shit. It was easy to work out it was the former."

Dumbledore wasn't even able to say anything, so deep was his shock now.

"Which raised the issue why you never arranged for Hagrid to be properly tried when Riddle claimed it was him who caused the death of young Myrtle," added Daphne. "By stating, once Colin was petrified, that the destruction of the camera meant the chamber had been reopened, meant you also knew Hagrid's pet acromantula didn't cause the death of Myrtle. Which begs the question, why hadn't you worked to see Hagrid's name cleared? After all, as Chief Warlock, it was well within your powers to do so."

"And don't get us started on third year," huffed Hermione. "You knew... or, at least, strongly suspected... Sirius was innocent. It was even your idea for me to use the time-turner to go back to save him. So, why didn't you take the time-turner off me and go do it yourself? No; you just wanted Harry to have another adventure and, if he failed, he'd blame himself. It was yet another of your part test part training of Harry."

"I couldn't!" stuttered the old man. "There wasn't enough time for me..."

"Liar!" snorted Harry. "We're talking about a time turner here, remember? You sent two teenagers to go and do the job you should have done. After all, you were part of the reason Sirius was sent to Azkaban in the first place. It was your error. Yet, you abrogated the responsibility to fix it to two teens. One would think you actually wanted them to fail. Then, when they amazingly succeeded, you did nothing to get Sirius the trial he deserved. You allowed that idiot Fudge to accuse us of being confounded. And, in doing so, denied Sirius justice. Again, as Chief Warlock, it was well within your power to see he got it. It was clearly yet another deliberate act on your part."

"I... No! I... There..."

"What we've also learned and come to understand is that the greatest threat to the magical world, especially wizarding Britain, isn't Tom Riddle," said Harry. "No. The greatest threat is a meddling old fool who thinks he's God's gift to the wizarding world. He is... was... a self-absorbed idiot who was supposed to have taken a prophecy and done the right thing.

"Instead, this fool decided to hide it from everyone. He decided to keep what he knew to himself. Instead of training the prophecised child together with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin for his future conflict with the Dark Lord, he decided to hide the boy away in an abusive household. That abuse led to a weakening of the boy's magic due to malnutrition. A weakening, which was enough for the Dark Lord of the prophecy to be able kill the boy. That fool's name is Albus Wulfric Dumbledore."

"Surprised we know that Percival and Brian aren't actually part of your name, Albus?" asked Hermione with a smirk directed at the very shocked old man. "It wasn't hard to figure out, when you think about it. Neither your brother, nor your sister, had more than a single middle name. And your father hated muggles. After all, he did torture a group of muggle boys simply because they teased your sister. So, why would he saddle you with two extra middle names; and for both of them to be muggle names? He, of course, wouldn't do such a thing. But you knew that, with the extra names and them being muggle ones, you'd look more important than you actually were at the time."

"However, your worse crime is that you've been manipulating things around Harry's life since before he was even born," said Daphne, cutting him off yet again. "We highly suspect you knew all along how he was treated at his aunt and uncle's place. That makes you a child abuser by proxy. You placed him there, and you kept demanding he go back. You're a child abuser, Albus. One of the most despicable of crimes someone could possibly commit. And it'll soon be time you faced ultimate judgment. I don't think your looked-forward-to 'Next Great Adventure' is going to be all that pleasant for you."

"Actually, that time is now," said a new voice.

All eyes turned to where the voice had come from. Standing there, just inside the entrance between the curtains, was obviously another angel. The robes were a dead giveaway. He appeared elderly, tall, of African-American descent with a very short-cropped greying balding frizz, and plenty of freckles across his cheeks and nose

"Hello," said Hermione. "And who might you be?"

"You may call me Morgan," said the angel.

"Who are you and how did you get in here?" asked Dumbledore quite firmly and a little angrily.

The other four practically snickered.

Ignoring Dumbledore for a moment, Morgan said, "Alright, you four, Albus Wulfric and I need to have a chat."

"I... take it you're... his?" asked Hermione.

"I am," replied Morgan with a small nod. "And you four have just made my job both somewhat easier, and a little bit more difficult."

"Ooh!" said Harry. "May I be the one to introduce you to him?"

With a sigh, Morgan said, "If you must."

"Thank you!" he exclaimed. Turning to Dumbledore he said, "Albus; this is Morgan, your Grim Reaper. Also known as the Angel of Death."

Seeing the horrified expression of shock pass over the old man's face, the three teens and Sirius laughed.

As the four stood and made to leave the curtained off area, Hermione sing-songed, "Al-bus is in... trah-ble!"

"Out!" snapped Morgan as he moved to sit on the same stool Sirius sat upon.

As the four left, Harry heard Morgan say, "Now, Albus Wulfric, as Hermione Jean bluntly put it, you're in trouble. And, yes, I'm your Grim Reaper."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

The four had been long enough in the Infirmary talking with Dumbledore that it was almost time for dinner. Foregoing the short time they had left to head back to their apartment and drop off their book bags, Sirius suggested they head back to his office.

Once they were ensconced within, he turned to them with a wide grin. "That was fun watching that."

"I thought he was going to have heart attack, a couple of times there," giggled Hermione.

"So, Morgan is his... Grim Reaper?" asked Sirius.

"Yes," said Daphne. "According to Della, when a person is slowly dying, often their Grim Reaper will come and share their last moments as mortals. If Morgan is here now, Dumbledore doesn't have that much longer to live."

"Well, yes," said Sirius. "I was told he was down to his last few weeks."

"I think it's more like his last few days," said Daphne. "If that."

"Do you know what the... Morgan will talk to him about?" he asked.

"I think Morgan will talk to him to help ease his soul towards Heaven," said Hermione. "But, I think a lot of it will also be about where Dumbledore went wrong in his life. It's so, when the old coot dies, he'll be able to do so when he realises everything he did wrong and shows remorse. At least, that's what my religious lessons taught me."

"So, off the maudlin subject matter," said Sirius giving himself a little shake. "I meant to ask you earlier. How has your animagus training been coming along?"

All three grinned back and suddenly shifted into their forms. The speed of the transition was as fast as Sirius was able to transition into his own form.

With a grin, he declared, "Excellent! I think the three of you are now worthy of being granted your Marauder names."

All three changed back and Hermione said, "Please, don't make it something I'll not like."

What Hermione and Daphne didn't know was that Harry had been in communication with his godfather and honourary uncle, and told them of Hermione's fear. He even sent Hermione's own suggestions along, so they'd have some idea of what she'd like.

"It won't be," said Sirius in a calming gesture. "I promised Moony he'd be here when we announced them; so, you'll have to wait until tomorrow night to find out what they are. We'll do it straight after class, tomorrow."

As all three nodded, he said, "Good. Now, it's almost time for the meal to be served in the Great Hall. You may as well head directly there. I'll be along in a little while.

As the three made to leave, Harry smiled back and said, "Thank you, Mister Padfoot."

Sirius grinned and said, "You're not getting it out of me that easily. Now, scram!"

As they'd anticipated, the talk along the tables at dinner was all about Sirius's DADA classes.

"He's effing brilliant! Blood scary, though," said Kevin Entwhistle. "It scared the crap out of me when he fired off that cannon blast. But, he clearly really knows his stuff!"

"We've got him first thing in the morning," said a sixth year, clearly interested. "What do you recommend?"

"When you enter his classroom, as he put it, be ready to learn," explained Entwhistle. "Don't sit there chatting with your friends. You won't like the consequences."

"He speaks in that slow, soft cadence Snape uses," added Stephen Cornfoot. "And has that same stare. But, he's nothing like him. He doesn't sneer. And he doesn't insult you, either."

The three bondmates were amused by the exchanges.

Harry took a look around the room and saw others also talking and looking towards Sirius where he sat next to Snape at the head table. For his part, Sirius seemed to be having fun ignoring Snape and watching the byplay at the tables.

When he looked over and saw the twins and Neville, they also looked quite amused by what others were saying about their new DADA Professor. Neville caught his eye and grinned back.

Harry turned to Hermione and softly said, "I think those who know Sirius are as amused as we are about his little performance during class. I think he must have adopted the same attitude in his other classes today."

She nodded back and grinned.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

The next day, the three, after a single of Herbology to wind up the day, made their way to the DADA classroom. They didn't know if Sirius had the last class of the day as a class or a free period like they did, so went there to find out.

When they realised he had a class, they decided to take a wander back outside instead of just waiting outside the classroom; but, had returned as the final class, one of Slytherin and Gryffindor firsties, exited while excitedly chattering between themselves in their separate Houses.

The three all walked in with big grins on their faces. As the last of the firsties left, Daphne closed the door.

"I hope you didn't scare the crap out of them, as one of our Housemates said you did for us," said Daphne.

"Nope," grinned back Sirius. "I used a whole different form of intimidation for them. I didn't want to make them cry... yet."

"Well, you'll be pleased to know you're considered scary, brilliant, knowledgeable, intimidating, won't put up with crap, and speak softly but firmly with a measured cadence," said Hermione.

"Good," he replied. "That's what I was aiming for. If you want to stay ahead of being pranked, you have to be considered too scary, too smart and well-respected to be a target."

"The twins'll see it as a challenge, though," said Harry.

"I'm looking forward to it," he replied, a little gleefully.

Everyone turned to the door as it opened again, without a knock. Remus stood in the doorway with a wide grin before he casually walked in.

"So, Professor Black," he smirked. "How was your first couple of days as part of The Establishment?"

"Fun!" Sirius immediately shot back. "I think I'm going to enjoy this gig. Now I know why you enjoyed it so much."

"Wait till you have to grade assignments," said Remus. "I'll ask you again, then."

"So, animagus names?" asked Hermione.

"Missus Granger-Potter appears most eager, Mister Padfoot," smiled Remus.

"That she does, Mister Moony," replied Sirius.

Sirius waved his wand and caused the front desks to slide back and away. With them out of the way, he then conjured up five seats in a circle.

"Take a seat," he said.

Once everyone was sitting down, he and Remus glanced at each other with grins.

"Who's first?" asked Remus.

"Me, please!" a very fidgety Hermione quickly said.

"How could we be surprised by that," said Sirius. He turned to Remus and asked, "Mister Moony; would you do the honours?"

"Mister Moony accepts the honour," said Remus, before he turned to Hermione. "Hermione Jean Granger-Potter, your Marauder name will be... Pouncer."

Hermione gasped in shock and blurted, "That was one of my first choices!" She then winced at her exclamation. "I mean, if there was one to choose, that would have been one of the names I wanted. Thank you."

"Mister Moony accepts your thanks, Miss Pouncer, and asks who's next?" said Remus, with a wide grin.

"I'll go next," said Daphne.

"Ah, the delightful Missus Greengrass-Potter," said Sirius. "Mister Moony and I took quite some time thinking of a name for you. Eventually, we came up with... Tracker."

Daphne seemed to think about it for a few moments before she said, "I like it. Thank you."

Both older Marauders grinned back and nodded. Sirius said, "Mister Padfoot thanks you for your appreciation, Miss Tracker, and hands back to Mister Moony for our last inductee."

"Harry was both the hardest and easiest," said Remus. "We had his name right from the start and didn't realise it. Our alpha male of his own pack will be henceforth known as... Hunter."

"Nice!" said Harry. "I like it. Thank you. That is, Mister Hunter thanks Mister Moony and Mister Padfoot for his Marauder name; and likes it."

"Mister Moony..."

"And Mister Padfoot..."

"... Acknowledge your thanks and are relieved you all do."

"Is there also a secret handshake, or something?" asked Hermione, a little cheekily.

Both adults looked back before both burst out laughing.

Sirius said, "Miss Pouncer gets in the first snap prank seconds after induction." With mock tears and sniffles he said, "I'm sooo proud."

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

A couple days later, just before the evening meal was to commence, Professor McGonagall stood to make an announcement.

"Students," she said, as the hubbub from the tables died down. "It is my sad duty to inform you all that Headmaster Dumbledore... passed away from a long illness, this afternoon."

With gasps and not a few tears from some of the students - and looks of pleasure from some on the Slytherin table - McGonagall raised her hand and waited until silence again descended. "As this was expected by a select few, who were aware of the Headmaster's declining health, steps have already been taken. The School Board have already appointed me as interim Acting Headmistress, and I have accepted control of the wards of the school. The interim Acting Deputy Headmaster is Professor Filius Flitwick.

"With the amount of work ahead of me for the foreseeable future I have put out feelers for a temporary Professor of Transfigurations. In the mean time all Transfiguration classes, except for fifth and seventh years, are suspended. I will continue to teach those until a replacement is found. You will be informed, in advance, when classes in Transfiguration recommence.

"A memorial service will be held for Headmaster Dumbledore on Sunday afternoon on the lawn near the greenhouses. Those who wish to attend to pay their respects may do so. We ask that those who do not choose to attend please avoid the area or, if you need to be nearby, please be quiet.

"Headmaster Dumbledore will be interred in the Dumbledore family plot in Godric's Hollow sometime next week. Unless by special invitation, and due to the current uncertainties surrounding personal safety and security, you will be unable to attend."

As she was talking, Harry perused the head table. Professor Snape was looking like he'd been sucking on Dumbledore's lemon drops all day, so pursed were his lips. Harry suspected he felt his tenure was very soon coming to an abrupt end.

Sirius was, of course, quite calm. The arrival of Morgan meant Dumbledore's end was closer than the rest of the staff thought it to be.

Professor Babbling was gently weeping, and was dabbing at her eyes with a small lace handkerchief; Professor Babbage was looking quite concerned; Professor Sprout was sad and just a touch teary; Professor Flitwick looked a little sad, but that was all; Professors Vector and Sinistra were all 'stiff upper lip' but red-rim eyed; Professor Grubbly-Planck was just sad; Hagrid was all but bawling and looked like a blubbering wreck; and Professor Trelawney looked as if she didn't know anything out of the ordinary was going on, and was looking around a little confused and trying to comfort Hagrid.

Harry, Hermione and Daphne were all actually quite relieved, now that the old fool was out of the way. Privately, each wished it wasn't necessary. But they also recognised he was far more a hindrance than a help.

After dinner and just before curfew a lone Slytherin student carefully made their way to the owlery. A short message was tied to the leg of a non-descript school owl and sent on its way.

The note said, 'Dumbledore is dead. The old fool died today. Do I still go ahead with the plan for the cabinet?' There was no sender or recipient name on the note.

Sitting in their apartment, with the Map laid out on the coffee table between them, the three watched the names play across the parchment through the evening.

They watched a few students make their way to the owlery after dinner; but, it was just as curfew approached, they watched a lone name make its way to the owlery.

Theodore Nott.

As Nott left the owlery, the three looked to one another. Daphne muttered with a growl in her voice, "That is really no surprise."

"This time it's Nott's father who has the displeasure of Riddle in his home," said Harry.

Hermione asked, "So, what do we do?"

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ