The Muggle Studies classroom was well and truly alive. Conversation pumped through the room like a beating heart, circulating laughter and questions. Whenever Harry heard a snippet from a different student, he couldn't help but smile. That left him smiling a lot as he patrolled between the desks.
"One pound… two pounds… and thirteen pence!" Fay Dunbar said, excitedly sliding money across the table toward Parvati Patil, who counted it out and slid a different amount back.
"Red means wait for cars, green means you can cross, flashing red means you're out of time," Terry Boot whispered to himself, drilling traffic safety with a zealous look of concentration.
At one end of the room, the Hufflepuffs in the class had formed a group with the Golden Trio, investigating each other's outfits. Every student in the class was wearing completely Muggle outfits, putting their wardrobe choices through one last stress test before the field trip rolled around.
Susan twisted in a half circle, wearing a hoodie and pants that clung to her for dear life.
"These clothes are so snug!" Susan gushed. "They're warm, too, Neville! Neville?"
Ghosting behind the Boy Who Lived, Harry poked Neville with his elbow in a way no one else would see. Jolting, Neville's brain came back down to earth in the nick of time.
"Looks great, Susan," he said weakly, almost croaking. Ron stifled a laugh at his best mate's predicament. Hermione just sighed.
As much as he was enjoying observing their frantic preparations, Harry did have something for the class to focus on today. He meandered to his desk and leaned against the front of it, drawing everyone's attention onto him with a clap. "Eyes up here, everybody! I know it's exciting, but let's try to listen for a minute.
When he was satisfied no one was ignoring him, Harry said, "I'm going to ask you to form groups of three to four. Try not to pick your best friends. In fact, don't pick anyone quite yet. We're going to split up by interests, and I want you to find a group who wants to see the same things you do. Just because your housemates are sports buffs doesn't mean you shouldn't get to go see a bookstore. Now, one at a time… What are you looking forward to seeing?"
Hermione went first, on account of her hand firing into the air faster than anyone else's.
"Library," she said. One word, nothing else. Harry almost laughed.
He called on more raised hands until they had a fairly comprehensive list. Some students were interested in tourist attractions like the London Eye. Others wanted to see Muggle sports being played. Parvati Patil was curious about Muggle makeup and perfumes, and generally just wanted to shop. Michael Corner suggested watching a movie in a real theater.
Once they had a solid list, it was a matter of turning the kids loose again.
"Alright! Let's split you up evenly," Harry said. "Hermione, why don't you head to that corner? Michael, you can go opposite her. Parvati, stand at the back of the room…"
Students who suggested an activity were treated like team captains, the rest of the class breaking up to join the group that interested them the most. Michael was joined by Susan, Neville, and Terry Boot for a trip to the movies. Hannah Abbott and Lavender Brown teamed up to form a group with Parvati. The sports group included Anthony Goldstein, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ron, and Fay Dunbar.
Groups formed largely without Harry's input. He was just thinking it was going smoothly when he heard a strangled, "You?"
Looking at the back corner of the room, Harry saw Hermione standing where he'd directed her to. For a moment, it had looked like her library trip wasn't an attractive prospect to anyone else. Unsurprising, maybe, that teenagers didn't want to spend their free ticket into Muggle London on a house of books.
Luckily, Hermione had founded like-minded peers. Unfortunately, she seemed a bit put off by who they were.
"Us indeed!" Blaise said. Unlike the first assignment to dress in Muggle clothes, he wasn't overdressed in a tuxedo anymore, but rather looked sharp in dress pants and a vaguely tropical shirt, its creme color matching excellently with his dark skin. He certainly knew how to dress.
"Do you even read?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
"Thoroughly. As thoroughly as you do, perhaps."
That challenge drew a brief, gruff growl from Hermione. "And you read Muggle books?"
"To that, the answer is no," Blaise said. "Why else would I be using this trip to start? I don't see why you would find that disagreeable. I'd think you'd be pleased to share your culture! Unless… Were you hoping I was after something else?"
This time, Hermione's growl couldn't hide the pink that touched her cheeks. "This is why I didn't want to deal with you for an entire day! You're impossible!"
"Thank you," Blaise said.
"Just ignore him," said Daphne. She had come forward with Blaise, picking the library as the most attractive option. "It's the only way to make him stop."
"Does it work?" Hermione asked.
"Occasionally."
"Lovely," Hermione sighed. Blaise wore a smile throughout it all. He seemed to have taken a liking to making her sweat.
"Professor…"
Harry's attention was called back to the center of the room. It was Susan who called for him, which immediately made Harry focus. She wasn't one to talk in class unless it was something she thought was serious.
"Yes, Susan?"
"Are you sure that it's alright for us to split up?" Susan linked her hands, tapping one foot nervously. "It's just, my aunt said there's been a lot of trouble recently, even in Muggle areas. And what if we mess up? I'm worried…"
"Good!" Harry said. "Being worried means that you're taking this seriously! Frankly, though, I expect you to mess up."
That drew a reaction from the class— some fearful that they would get into trouble, others aggrieved Harry was doubting them. He used his wand to quiet the din, allowing himself to keep speaking.
"You'll all make mistakes, but that doesn't mean doing anything wrong. The fastest way to grow is to get out of your comfort zone. I'll be watching over your groups, and I'll even be recruiting chaperones from among the faculty and my friends. You won't really be alone at any point. As for the illegal sort of trouble, your aunt has already done a fantastic job putting an end to that. Though it won't cure all your worries, do your best to relax. I promise it will go fine."
Susan nodded. Other students started talking to each other, excitement growing by the minute. This was the last time the class would meet before the trip, which was only a few days away. Seconds later the bell ended the period, informing students it was time to clear out.
"Remember, I've cleared it with Hogwarts for you to be off school grounds all day Saturday!" Harry said. "Where are we meeting?"
"On the Quidditch pitch!" his class chimed.
"When?"
"Eight o'clock!"
Harry grinned. "Then what are you waiting for? I'll see you in three days!"
The excited chatter continued as students funneled out. Somewhat conspicuously, Neville hung back, while Susan, Hermione, and Ron stayed at his side.
"The friends that you said would be chaperones," Neville began. "Are they, you know—" He checked to make sure the last student was out of the way, dropping his voice. "—the Order?"
"Some of them," Harry said. "I imagine we'll have to keep a close eye on you, just in case. The rest of the class should be safer. Although every group will be getting a chaperone and two Portkeys. One will take you to another group, the other will bring you back to Hogwarts. Just in case."
Neville visibly relaxed.
"I'm glad," he admitted. "It's one less worry. I'm occupied enough trying not to stand out. Dressing is hard…"
In contrast to Blaise, Neville was having a slightly harder time mastering a Muggle wardrobe. His shirt was a red flannel, which clashed with the gray and blue-striped joggers he was wearing from the waist down. If it was any consolation, he was still dressed better than Ron, who insisted no matter what he was told that overalls were 'His look.'
Never the type to drag down one student for another's confidence, Harry refrained from pointing out Ron's garb, instead telling Neville, "Learning how to blend in with Muggles is hard, doubly so if you've never lived with them before. The process is a bit like creating a new spell from scratch… Meaning lots of research, followed by making a million mistakes before you finally get somewhere. The process has never been fun, but it's certainly worth it."
"I think you look good," Susan said to Neville.
"You'd look perfectly fine! With just a few alterations…" Hermione said.
"Should've gone for overalls." Was Ron's two cents.
Neville went to leave, the rest of his friends following him, but Hermione hesitated. She looked uncertain, which couldn't have been about the field trip. Not for her.
"Have you created a spell before, professor?" Hermione asked.
Neville and the others stopped to listen. Harry scratched his neck.
"I wouldn't say I created one. It's more accurate to say that I modified something I've always been good at. That's what I was thinking of when I explained it to Neville. Even then, I got a lot of help." From you.
Hermione looked curious, but she realized that lingering any longer would mean risking tardiness for their next class. Almost running, she charged past Neville, leading the group out of the classroom. "Thank you professor!"
"See you this weekend," Neville said, smiling. Susan and Ron waved on their way out. Harry watched them go, then returned to his desk, grading papers as he waited for his fourth year class to arrive.
He had to get ahead before taking a whole day off.
O-O-O
In the same vein, Harry's post dinner hours were spent scribbling on assignments. He finished ahead of time, letting him get to bed earlier than he'd planned to. It was welcome, frankly. Teaching helped get his mind off it somewhat, but revisiting bad memories with Dumbledore left a lingering effect on Harry's mind. He lay awake for nearly an hour before sleep came, which had been his new norm the last couple of nights.
His dreams weren't bad, thankfully. He slept as sound as a babe until—
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Harry was awake in seconds. No matter how many years he'd been away from that life, Auror work made you into a light sleeper. Noises that constituted a potential threat always brought an additional adrenaline rush, chasing away the bleariness of sleep. His wand was in his hand, snatched from underneath his pillow.
He quickly realized no one was breaking into his room. Although the force the door was being hit with came close. A glance at the hands of his clock, enchanted to glow in a lack of light, told him it was a quarter till three in the morning.
Harry got up, walking to the door in the Led Zeppelin t-shirt and Muggle shorts that he used for pajamas. When he opened it, Neville Longbottom nearly fell inside.
"Neville? What's wrong?"
As fast as he asked it, Harry spotted blood dripping down Neville's cheek. The trail started from his scar.
Neville grabbed the front of Harry's shirt, squeezing it with two hands. "Save her!" he gasped. More than blood, there were tears running down his cheeks. He seemed less awake than Harry was, sweating from the run from his dormitory.
Harry placed his hands on Neville's, not prying them off but holding them, using the touch to calm Neville even slightly. "Save who?"
Harry's touch — or his tone — worked. Neville took a deep breath. He still looked frantic, but he managed to speak coherently.
"They're coming for her. I saw it in a dream… But it wasn't a dream! It's real, I promise! Bellatrix was there, with other Death Eaters, and a snake as well. They're trying to kill her! Amelia Bones is in danger!"
Harry couldn't help his grip tightening, squeezing Neville's fingers. "Amelia? You're sure?"
"I saw it, Harry! I know her mansion!"
It was the first time Neville had used his first name. Clearly, he was shaken enough that he believed in what he saw. But the timeline was all wrong!
Amelia Bones shouldn't be in danger for another half a year. It was the first thing Voldemort did once his return was revealed, but now? Was it because Amelia had taken Harry's advice and acted more aggressively?
That wasn't even the most shocking thing. Bellatrix Lestrange shouldn't escape Azkaban until January. How could she be out, leading an attack Voldemort was supposed to handle himself?
Either things were far more different than Harry had realized… Or the dream was a fake designed to lure Neville out.
Harry's next step was the same either way.
His coat flew off of its hanger into his arms. He shrugged it on, stepping into the hallway. Hopping slightly, shoes and socks shot onto his fate. Two quick charms laced either of his boots. He left his shirt and shorts, making him look as ridiculous as some of his students' attempts at passing for a Muggle, but Harry ignored that. You never knew when seconds might matter in situations like this.
"Go to Dumbledore—"
"I'm coming too!"
Harry stopped. He looked at Neville, who gazed back at him, his entire face a mess. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone into making him look terrible. Harry remembered nights he'd spent in Grimmauld Place, bent over the sink retching after being subjected to Voldemort's twisted mind.
"Absolutely not," Harry said.
"Professor, I have to help her!" Neville said. "Susan can't lose her aunt! That's all she has left!"
Harry wished he could use a gentle, professorly touch. He just couldn't waste the seconds.
Harry turned his wand toward the nearest wall. With barely an incantation, a corporeal blue stag erupted from it. "Bones Manor under attack. Send Order members."
The stag absorbed Harry's voice and took off at a gallop, bound for the headmaster's office.
"Find Dumbledore. Tell him every detail you can remember. That is the way you can be helpful. Hurling yourself into danger will only hold others back."
Neville flinched. Harry's voice had reverted to the terse tone he used on missions. It wasn't calming, but it was impossible to ignore. He patted Neville on the shoulder, hoping that would assuage the blow somewhat, then ran for the teacher's lounge. Behind him, he heard Neville muster a mighty sniff and run the opposite way, seeking out the Headmaster. Good.
The teacher's lounge was located at the end of the hall where most of the castle's permanent rooms were located. It held couches and tables for sitting, chatting, and working. Most importantly, it had a fireplace with a jar of Floo Powder. Harry grabbed a fistful.
Never Floo. It was written in big black letters at the top of page six in the Auror's training book. Specifically, it meant Never arrive at a crime scene using the Floo Network, but that didn't stick in your head as well. Apparition and Portkey were recommended, or brooms if you were in a pinch.
Why? Because those methods meant you could arrive anywhere. They were unpredictable. Fireplaces, on the other hand?
They were obvious. Easy to aim at. Death traps, in other words, if the dark wizards were even mildly confident. All it took was one mook with a Blasting Curse on his lips to send even the best Auror's limbs flying.
Harry had never been to Bones Manor before. He wasn't familiar enough with it to Apparate, didn't have a Portkey, and even a Firebolt would be too slow. So he did the stupid thing for the sake of time.
The powder hit the flames, which had started with a jab of Harry's wand. "Bones Manor!"
He hurled himself through.
Even Harry, after all the things he'd been through, tensed on arrival. He made a shield as fast as he could, just in case. No one was waiting for him. He let out a sigh of relief, which only lasted until he heard that cackle.
It was seared into his brain in a way no time could dull. Sadistic, unhinged, mad. Bellatrix Lestrange laughed like no woman Harry had ever met.
The Bones Manor fireplace was in the den, a room dominated by bookshelves and a single leather chair. It had a window overlooking the lawn, the pane of which was flashing with multicolored light. Harry sprinted from the room, tearing through the house.
On his way, he witnessed evidence of a battle. The table in the kitchen was overturned. The carpet on the stairs to the first floor was burning, forcing Harry to jump over steps which were still on fire. He didn't see any bodies, only damaged things. It was fortunate that he didn't take a wrong turn in the cavernous house. When he got to the front door, it was already open. Harry ran onto the lawn.
Bones Manor had a high hedge around the perimeter of a broad lawn. Figures were scattered across that lawn, one in the middle bearing familiar red hair.
Amelia Bones' right arm was limp at her side, and when she pivoted she did so without moving her left ankle. She was trading spellfire at a lightning rate with another woman, the same one whose laughter had filtered up to Harry through the window.
Bellatrix Lestrange fought with five other Death Eaters at her back, splitting Amelia Bones' attention. Unlike Amelia, she was unharmed. There was no sign of Nagini, but Harry couldn't rule out the possibility of the snake lying in wait.
He absorbed all of this before he was two steps out of the door. When he took a third step, he watched a golden spell break Amelia's shield.
"Reducto!" Harry said.
He stabbed his wand, shooting a narrow blue spell with perfect aim. One of the Death Eaters behind Bellatrix raised a shield in front of her, blocking the spell before she could be struck. The blast from Harry's spell damaged the shield and threw off Bellatrix's aim.
She completed her spell anyway, striking Amelia in the corner of the head. Amelia fell.
With Bellatrix were six Death Eaters, one of whom was already unconscious. Two others looked badly wounded. The other three were still healthy, to say nothing of Bellatrix, whose only dishevelment was the way her hair had been scattered by Harry's spell.
"Time to go!" she cackled.
The ability to Apparate returned. The Death Eaters must have taken down Bones Manor's Anti-Apparition wards, replacing them with their own, which they now canceled to teleport away. From the start they had no interest in lingering once help started to arrive. They knew they'd become outnumbered very quickly once the Order of the Ministry responded. Frankly, Harry wasn't thinking about them as they fled.
He ran to Amelia's side.
When he saw her chest moving, Harry's relief was tangible. He knelt next to her, pulling Amelia onto his knees to tilt her torso up. She hadn't passed out, but was instead groaning in acute pain. When she felt Harry's touch, she looked up at him with one bright blue eye.
The other didn't open.
Slowly, Amelia touched her own cheek, feeling the beginning of a gash that ran up to her forehead. Both of them had seen too many injuries not to know what it meant. Harry held his wand, debating if she would appreciate a Numbing Charm or not.
Amelia touched his hand.
"Stun me," she whispered.
Harry did as asked.