Chapter One
Sitting there listening to the twins Harry realized he was done. The Department of Mysteries had been one bad decision after another. Sirius’ death, which Harry realized later he could have prevented if he had just bloody remembered the mirror Sirius had given him, was the worst of all. The entire event had left him drained, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Learning from Fred and George that, other than Snape acting as a spy and Remus trying to negotiate with the British werewolf population, none of the order was actually doing anything to combat Voldemort or his Death Eaters was just the icing on the fucking cake.
Harry glanced around the room, letting the twin’s chatter fade into the background. They were in the parlor at Grimmauld Place, the adult members of The Order having commandeered the dining room for the impromptu meeting. His eyes roved over the faces of all the DA members who had followed him to the ministry, landing on Ron and Hermione by the fireplace. Hermione was curled up in a chair, cheek resting on her fist, elbow propped on the arm of the chair as she fought not to fall asleep. Ron sat on the floor beside her, his back propped against the side of the chair, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other pulled towards him, his arm thrown over his knee. He too was fighting sleep, head dropping towards his chest only to be jerked back up every few seconds.
Watching them, and Neville and Luna and everybody else, Harry felt the anger rising in his chest. It was an old feeling, one he had long since learned to ignore. It was the annoyance of being treated like an idiot, the irritation when his opinion was ignored, the disgust at having to be the one to fix everything when there were other people, older and more experienced, who could have done it themselves. He’d felt it many times before. He’d felt when McGonagall had ignored him in first year. When he’d had to fight the basilisk himself in second year because Lockhart had been useless. It had burned through him in third year, when he found out the truth about Peter Pettigrew and the lack of a trial for Sirius. He’d felt it more than once last year, when his name had come from the Goblet, when Ron had chosen to ignore him, when Cedric had died and Voldemort had come back and they had all refused to believe him.
Never had the anger burned more strongly in him than it did in that moment, as the words of the prophecy that had decided his fate played through his mind on an endless loop.
He was tired of not being in control of his own life. Tired of trusting those older and wiser than him to do their part only to be sorely disappointed when the brunt of the work inevitably fell to him, Ron, and Hermione. Unbidden, the words of the sorting hat from first year flittered through his mind:
‘You would do well in Slytherin.’
Harry rarely thought about the hat’s words. He didn’t think of himself as particularly cunning or ambitious, though Hermione had pointed out on more than one occasion that he could be fairly devious if he put his mind to it. Maybe it was time to change that. The current system clearly wasn’t working anymore. Dumbledore’s Army had been a brilliant idea on Hermione’s part, but if they were going to win the war, they would have to take it a step further. The Order of the Phoenix might have been able to handle things during the first war, but they certainly weren’t capable of doing the same this time around. No, Harry decided, if they wanted to win this war, they were going to have to do it themselves. Maybe it was time for a new Order to face off against Voldemort and his cronies.
He would talk to Hermione and Ron about it tomorrow, when they were all more awake.
The next day, after classes, Harry asked his two best friends if he could talk to them privately, in the Room of Requirement, instead of calling a DA meeting. When they entered the room, it was smaller than they were used to, comfortably furnished, and looking a lot like the study at Grimmauld Place. Ron and Hermione chose to sit on the couch, while Harry chose a chair facing the two of them.
“What’s up mate?” Ron was the first to break the silence, poorly hidden concern lacing his voice.
“I had an idea I wanted to run by you two.” Harry answered. If the two were surprised by the seriousness in his expression and voice, they didn’t show it.
“What is it? Does it have to do with the DA?” Hermione asked, leaning forward slightly in her seat.
“Kind of.” Harry shrugged. He quickly explained his revelation from the night before. Both Ron and Hermione were angry to learn that the Order wasn’t doing more for the war effort, and they agreed with Harry that something had to be done.
“But what are we going to do, exactly? The three of us can’t fight a war by ourselves, and it’s not like we have any experience in the matter.” Hermione felt the need to point out, playing Devil’s Advocate for Harry’s idea. Harry slumped back in his seat with a sigh.
“I was hoping you would have some ideas. I know things need to change, I just don’t know how to make it happen.”
“Why don’t we?” Harry and Hermione both turned to Ron, giving him odd looks.
“Why don’t we what?” Harry asked in confusion.
“Fight the war ourselves.” At the looks of incredulousness from the other two Ron held up his hands in defense. “I don’t mean just the three of us. But, all right, look at it this way. War is basically a real-life version of chess, isn’t it? Two sides facing off against each other, using strategy and tactics to out maneuver each other with the ultimate goal of bringing down the other side’s leader in order to win, right?”
Hermione sighed. “That is a very over-simplified definition, but yes, that is the basic concept of war.”
Ron shrugged. “I know, but it works. And what is the most important thing to have when fighting a war?”
“A figurehead.”
“A cause.” Came the simultaneous answers. Ron shook his head, sighing in fake exasperation.
“No. An army. You can’t fight a war without soldiers.”
“Oh.” Hermione’s expression morphed into one of confusion as Harry’s eyes widened, catching on to where Ron was going.
“You want to use the DA to fight the war against Voldemort.” Harry stated, voice flat. Ron knew how much he hated putting others in danger, and here he was, suggesting they send a bunch of teenagers to fight a war. (Harry conveniently forgot that he, himself, was a teenager, and that he had been fighting said war for quite some time.)
Hermione’s expression cleared as the source of her confusion was exposed, only to be replaced with one of outrage a moment later. “Ronald! I can’t believe you would suggest putting the members of the DA in danger like that!”
“The DA was your idea in the first place! Besides, you said it yourself, we need to be able to fight, to defend ourselves. That’s how this whole thing started!” Ron defended himself, though he wasn’t truly upset.
Hermione sighed in defeat. “I know. I just… I didn’t think it would really come to this.”
“I’m not putting them at risk.” Harry said, voice still flat. “It’s bad enough we risk ourselves on a regular basis. I can’t ask the others to do the same. “
“Do we really have a choice?” Ron asked quietly, staring Harry in the eye. “Look, I’m not saying we should send them out to fight without a plan of some kind, and I fully plan on fighting myself, but we have to face facts. Wars are fought with armies and we have one at our disposal.” He held up a hand to stay Harry’s protest. “They still need training. We all do. None of us are ready for full-on combat just yet. And we probably need to be organized, with a better chain of command or something, I don’t know. I’m just saying, we shouldn’t ignore the potential the DA holds.”
“I hate to say it Harry, but Ron’s right.” Hermione fiddled with the hem of her school robes as she turned to the green-eyed teen. “We aren’t ready for a full-on war, not yet. We still don’t even know how you’re supposed to kill Vol-Voldemort.” Hermione winced, she still wasn’t as comfortable saying his name as Harry was. “But the idea has potential. We just need more information. We don’t know enough about him or the Death Eaters to know how to fight them effectively. And we could all do with some more combat training. I’m not saying it’s perfect, or that we’ve got it all figured out, but maybe it’s something to consider.”
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Both Ron and Hermione had a point, and he knew it, it was why he had come to them for advice and ideas in the first place. That didn’t mean he had to like it. Still…
“When did you get so smart?” Harry asked Ron teasingly. “I didn’t think you could use your brain for anything but chess and girls.” Ron blushed lightly and fidgeted in his seat.
“Shut up.” He growled, reaching over to playfully punch Harry on the shoulder. “Just because I don’t enjoy schoolwork like Hermione doesn’t mean I can’t be smart occasionally.” Then the redhead side, the mood turning somber once more. “Besides, everything that happened last year, combined with the fight at the ministry, pointed out some stuff about me I’m not all that proud of. I figured it was time I stopped treating all this like some kind of grand adventure and started taking it seriously, you know?” He shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter. Hermione put her hand on his arm, smiling to show she was proud of him for having matured, at least a little bit.
Harry tried not to flinch at the mention of the ministry. He was glad Ron was taking the war more seriously now, but he didn’t think he’d be over the events of the other night for a long while.
“All right, I’ll think about it. I hate admitting it, but you do have a point. The next DA meeting isn’t until Thursday, right?” At Hermione’s affirmative nod Harry stood up, stretching a bit. “That should be enough time to come up with at least the basics of a plan. We can present it to the other DA members and see what they think.”
Hermione gathered her bag as she and Ron stood too. “I’ll start with a list of everything we would need to pull of something like this, the library should have some books on military tactics and strategy, even if it is just in reference to past wars. I should also make a list of everything we already know about You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. It won’t be much, but it’ll be better than nothing.”
The trio left the Room of Requirement and headed back to the dorms. Harry walked a few steps behind his friends, lost in thought. The most pressing matter on his mind was gaining more information on the Death Eaters and their movements. They wouldn’t be able to train if they didn’t have some idea of what they were going up against.
Just as they reached the stairs, a flash of blonde caught his eye. He turned in time to see Malfoy rounding the corner. Harry narrowed his eyes as the beginnings of an idea flashed through his mind.
What better way to learn about Death Eaters than to recruit the son of one of Voldemort’s most prominent followers?