August 2005, Texas, Integrated Combat Teams Headquarters

Sometime during the early eighteen hundreds, a completely magical town had sprung up in the middle of nowhere, Texas. Over time the town had faded, becoming a shadow of its former self, yet the wards that had protected it remained, ensuring that it never appeared on any non-magical maps and that no non-magical person ever got within a mile of it. When Pearce had first formed the Mages he had decreed that they needed a completely separate base from the traditional American Magical Military, one suited to their needs. Rather than build it from scratch they had simply moved into the now abandoned town, upgraded the wards and rebuilt the facilities.

Two days after his release from hospital and a day before his friends arrived to visit, Pearce had decided that it was time for Harry to meet his new team mates and begin to get to know them. Passing through the quarantined visitor’s entrance Pearce, as Master of the Wards, keyed Harry into them so that he could Apparate directly into the base or create a Portkey that could pierce the wards. Despite being keyed into the wards any form of magical transport that he used was redirected to an arrival room which, like the visitors entrance, had its own independent set of wards, though they were weaker then the ones around the visitor’s entrance.

Within the compound each four man team had its own building, a small house in reality, where they could congregate when off duty or sleep if they were required to remain on base. There was also a central building that contained the command element, offices, briefing rooms and pretty much everything needed to run an elite force of forty highly trained men. Before Pearce took him to meet his new team mates however they settled into the Colonel’s office for a discussion.

“Alright, we have some administrative details to deal with before you can meet your team. First I need you to read and sign this; it’s a magically binding secrecy contract. Every time you’re not allowed to reveal something we make an addendum to this. For now there are just a few basic things on it, usually we add specific mission details to it and the like. Also take these, wear them always unless told otherwise, they have a Portkey programmed into them that will bring you here from anywhere in the world. To activate it hold them in your hand and say ‘ICT Headquarters’.” Pearce handed him a sheaf of papers, real paper not parchment, and a set of dog tags. The tags bore the same information as non-magical ones with the letters ICT in the area reserved for branch of service. “To non-magicals, unless they’re aware of magic, the branch of service will read United States Marine Corps but a small compulsion directed towards them will stop them from asking for further information.”

Glancing quickly over the secrecy contracts Harry scrawled his name at the bottom of each one, feeling the magic of the contracts settle over them as he finished.

“Excellent.” Pearce said, taking the papers. “Now do you have questions? I’m sure that you do.”

“What exactly is Task Force Overwatch? You’ve mentioned it a few times but haven’t really explained it other than saying that it’s a joint international force of fighters intended for Britain to fight Voldemort.”

Pearce didn’t answer directly; he grabbed the recently signed secrecy contract and placed an addendum on it before spinning it and showing it to Harry.

…all information pertaining to Task Force Overwatch unless speaking with someone already aware of the information…

“The magic of the contract will stop you from speaking if you’re not sure of what the person you’re talking to knows. Also you’ll never be able to tell them something that they don’t already know for sure.”

“Useful thing magic.” Harry commented.

Pearce nodded. “Particularly legal magic. The mundanes think that their legal system is convoluted, they should see ours. Alright then, Task Force Overwatch.”

“As you know it’s an American, Canadian and French combined task force, these three countries having close ties. The magical portions of them at least. It is commanded by Army General Gérard Rousseau of France since the French are providing three Auror squadrons compared to the two from Canada and other two from America. France and Canada are also providing a squad each of Hit Wizards which I suppose you could say are completely magical Special Forces teams while we have earmarked four IC Teams for the command which will fall under the command of Major Hawkins, my second in command and commander of Team One.”

“Apart from the main fighting force, a dedicated intelligence section has access to all information from that both we and our allies have coming from the area. In the event that Task Force Overwatch does deploy to Britain we will be based at an estate that formerly belonged to a French government official and now belongs to a shell company that is in actuality the French government.”

“Ok, I guess that makes sense.” Harry said slowly. The idea of international cooperation amongst magical nations was completely foreign to him but he had a feeling that he would get used to it eventually.

“While we’re on this topic, I should probably explain the basic organisation of the Mages to you and what your position in that organisation is.” Pearce said. “You will be joining the newest team, Team Ten, which I received permission to form a bit over two months ago. It contains two experienced members, Lieutenant Michaels and Sergeant Birch, while the third member, Corporal Mordecai, is much like you. You’re both young, magically gifted individuals with very little in the way of real experience. He’s twenty one, the youngest Mage ever, and it’s only his magical skill that allowed him to join this early in life.”

“Each of the ten teams has four members, giving us forty wands, not including me. Two of the teams are commanded by Majors, the First and the Third, and they’re my second and third in command respectively. The rest of the teams are commanded either by Captains or Lieutenants. You will not technically be part of the Mages since you lack several key requirements such as a non-magical High School Diploma. On paper you’re a civilian attaché with all of the benefits of being a Mage including the pay. You will however obey the orders of your superiors, which is pretty much everyone, and will learn how to fight as part of a team. Any questions?”

Harry shook his head.

“Excellent, let’s go meet your team mates.”

…

“Harry Potter, meet Team Ten. From left to right we have Lieutenant Benjamin Michaels, your direct commanding officer, Sergeant Kyle Birch and Corporal Caleb Mordecai. I’ll leave you four here to get acquainted be aware though that you need to meet me at the Departure Room at three.” Pearce said before turning to leave Team Ten’s house.

Michaels raised his hand and shook Harry’s own, his eyes drifting to Harry’s bared left arm which gleamed slightly since he was yet to have the enchantments recast on it and wouldn’t until the wand core had been placed within it.

“We’re fairly informal amongst ourselves. I’ll answer to either Michaels or Ben, only my mother calls me Benjamin. That’s Kyle and next to him is Caleb, call him Cal at your own risk.” Michaels said amiably, his voice warm, friendly.

Harry smiled, put at ease by the man’s persona and folded himself into one of the chairs at Michaels’ gesture. It was old and comfortable, momentarily reminding him of the ones in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Can I ask a question?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“It’s expected.” Birch said.

Gnawing his bottom lip in indecision for a moment Harry forged ahead. “How do you really feel about having me on your team? I mean you can’t be happy having to baby sit a teenager.”

“That’s what this team is for.” Caleb said, speaking before the others could. “We’re the young cutting edge group, the babies the others call us. We’re also the team that’ll try out new technology and tactics. You and I are the most powerful Mages currently serving magically speaking according to Colonel Pearce. We’re also the youngest; usually a person isn’t eligible to join the Mages until they’re twenty four at the very least. We need to remember though that we wouldn’t be here unless we’ve got the ability to pull our own weight and we won’t be sent into a fight until we’re ready.”

“Oh, alright.” Harry said, relieved that the people he had to work with weren’t resentful towards him, at least not overtly.

“Sharing time.” Michaels announced. “I’m thirty two, engaged with a child on the way, my favourite colour is silver and I enjoy transfiguration attacks and defences.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, the opening descriptions were something he recognised from primary school but the bit about transfiguration was new.

Birch went next. “”I’m twenty eight, my favourite colour is blue and I tend to favour powerful light magic where I can.”

“I’m twenty one, like the colour red and tend to use darker magic than most.” Caleb said.

“Technically I’m fifteen,” Harry began, “but I’ve used a time dilation field a fair bit which probably makes me somewhere between sixteen and seventeen in actuality. I’m fond of the colours dark blue and black and don’t really have a type of magic that I favour other than saying that I tend to use direct damage attacks, light or dark, as long as it puts my opponent down.”

“You should know Harry that we’re like brothers. We’ll watch each others back like brothers, joke around and tease but never truly mean it and if we have arguments we settle them quickly, with a duel if necessary so they don’t interfere with our bond. Your loyalty should be first to your family, both us and any other family that you have, before anything else. Right then, now we’ve got that out of the way we can get down to the interesting stuff.” Michaels declared, grinning. “So Harry, have you ever gotten laid?”

Harry blushed bright red and wondered just how long it was until he had to meet Pearce.

To long he was sure.

Brothers indeed.

…

August 2005, New York City, Department of Magic Safe House

To ensure Harry’s safety and that of his visitors, one of whom was technically a wanted criminal in both America and the United Kingdom; the Department of Magic had granted him the use of one of the numerous safe houses that they had spread around America. This particular safe house consisted of the entire top floor of an apartment building that had been blanketed with a Fidelius Charm. Harry and his visitors weren’t told the Secret they were merely issued with Portkeys created by the Secret Keeper that would allow them to pass through the spell. From what Harry understood of the security arrangements there were none other than the Fidelius though any magic detected being cast in the area, other than that cast within the Fidelius Charm as the spell blocked all known forms of magical detection, would be investigated by a battle ready Auror squadron.

Impatiently Harry paced around what could only be described as a Common Room as he waited for his friend’s Portkeys to arrive. The safe house had everything from bedrooms and other basic living areas to a games room, both magical and mundane, an indoor pool, duelling room and small gym. Harry suspected that Expansion Charms had been rather common when creating the safe house. Still he wasn’t going to complain about the luxury of it all.

He was so lost in his thoughts that the sound of people falling to the ground and swearing startled him, a bad thing considering recent events. Spinning on his heel his gleaming red wand appeared in his as if by magic and a silent stunner flew from the tip even as Harry dived for cover.

With a dog like yelp Sirius dropped to avoid the spell, he could feel it singe his hair as it flew by.

“Fucking hell kid, it’s us.” He called warily, wondering just what the hell was going on.

Red faced with embarrassment Harry rose from behind the couch, his wand back in his forearm holster.

“Sorry about that, you startled me.” He said.

“Startled you?” Sirius repeated in disbelief. “I’d hate to see what would happen if we ever scared you…”

“Nothing that you don’t deserve.” Harry interrupted, casting his eyes over the group interestedly as he hadn’t been told who exactly was visiting.

Remus gave him a friendly nod of greeting which Harry returned happily while Ron, Hermione and Ginny just stared at him, perplexed. As far as they knew Dumbledore had secretly been training Harry since the end of his Second Year and they had been forced to hide the physical changes that came with the training so as not to arouse suspicion about it. That story had been used so that Harry’s status as Godric’s Heir could be kept secret, such a position didn’t come with any special powers or position other than the sheer prestige of it and the right to use his famous sword in battle, Dumbledore had also mentioned something about him having the right to veto the appointment of a candidate for the position of Headmaster but that was it, he had no influence on the school other than that and couldn’t even affect the current Headmaster through the use of his Heir status. Despite that Harry wasn’t interested in making enemies of the people who would seek to best him just to claim to have beaten a Founder’s Heir or to claim the sword through right of conquest. Shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny of his friends Harry’s gaze zeroed in on the cage that they had brought with them, lighting up as he recognised the animal contained within.

“Hedwig.” He exclaimed happily, setting the owl free from the cages confines.

The white bird promptly settled onto Harry’s shoulder while Remus cleared his throat pointedly, prompting the two Weasleys and one Granger to flush as they realised that they had been staring rather rudely.

“I..It’s good to see you again Harry.” Hermione said hesitantly, staring up at him for the first time that either of them could remember.

“You to Hermione.” Harry muttered.

Ginny avoided his eyes and muttered a greeting, causing Harry to repress a sigh. He wasn’t as clueless around females as most people thought and could recognise the signs of a crush when they were so blatant.

Not good as far as he was concerned.

Ron’s expression was unusually guarded, reading his emotions was normally a trivial task for anyone but Harry was having trouble figuring out just what his second friend ever, the first his own age, was feeling. Striding forward Ron extended his hand in greeting, tentatively Harry took it. Ron squeezed, hard, staring right into Harry’s eyes the whole time before letting go and stepping back to stand next to his sister.

Harry stared at him, wondering if that was meant to intimidate him or if it was just a typical Ron greeting.

Time would tell he supposed.

“Nice place you’ve got here Harry, who’d you have to kill?” Sirius asked jokingly.

Harry smiled darkly, the grim mood that he’d found all too common since his Azkaban experience settling on him. “An Auror.”

Sirius and Remus looked horrified. Ron, Ginny and Hermione were confused by the reactions of the Marauders, not having heard about that particular part of Harry’s so called arrest.

“How about you show us around Harry?” Remus suggested for lack of something better.

Shrugging unconcernedly Harry drew his wand and levitated the luggage with a silent flick, drawing an envious look from Hermione who, despite the lessons Sirius and Remus had been given her had had no luck with silent casting.

“Don’t worry about being detected for using magic here; detectors don’t work through the Fidelius Charm.” He said.

“So we heard.” Ron replied, glaring at Sirius and Remus.

He was sore at the pair for not informing him of that little fact before he’d helped clean half of Grimmauld Place by hand.

…

Hours later Harry was wondering if the entire idea of having his friends visiting him hadn’t been a bad idea. He and Ron had barely spoken, so too he and Ginny, though admittedly for different reasons.

At least he hoped so at any rate.

Hermione had engaged him an academic discussion but had been surprised when she quickly found her self matched or out smarted in everything from Transfiguration, her best class, to Ancient Runes, one of Godric’s favourite areas of magic for the sheer destructive power that it held. The conversation had become rather stilted after that and she had drifted into the games room, showing the two purebloods how to operate the various non-magical games that it held while fascinating over how such things worked in a magical environment. She was outraged upon hearing that Technomancy was outlawed in Britain. Harry envisioned her beginning something along the lines of S.P.E.W to try and change that.

Sirius and Remus had been another matter altogether. Knowing the full extent of his recent experiences they were walking around him on metaphorical eggshells. That they couldn’t talk about certain things wasn’t helping either. Harry though, having experienced Azkaban himself, had developed a new level of understanding of what his Godfather had gone through and a new respect for his success in escaping the prison while he was still sane…

…well relatively sane at least.

“So how are you enjoying spending time with your aunt and grandfather?” Sirius asked as Remus finished placing privacy wards around the Common Room area.

“It’s great.” Harry said enthusiastically. “They accepted magic without batting an eyelash at it, well maybe not that easily but they don’t seem to have any problems with it. They don’t even seem to be intimidated by the idea of a crazed Wizard being after me. What’s happening with Voldemort?”

“We’ve got those reports that Pearce asked for, apparently you’re meant to pass them on, yeah?” Harry nodded the affirmative. The reports would be passed onto the analysts attached to Task Force Overwatch. “Voldemort’s been fairly quiet…” Sirius trailed off as the other three teenagers appeared from within the games room. “We’ll talk later.” He murmured, dispelling the privacy wards.

…

August 2005, Egypt, Temple of Amun-Ra

At one time the temple complex of Karnak held both the magical and mundane places of worship for the god Amun-Ra. Warfare and invasion by first the Romans and later those who worshipped the one God of Christian theology caused the temple to come under attack by those who didn’t share the beliefs that it propagated. The mundane portion of the once great temples were lost to the foreign invaders, defiled to the point that centuries later archaeologists would sit and wonder just what had been lost.

Sometime long ago, in an age lost in the sands of time, one of the High Priests of Amun-Ra, a skilled sorcerer of some power, removed the temple of Amun-Ra to the middle of the desert and wove a great web of protective magic around it. It was a place of myth and legend to those who had never seen it. The temple walls were covered with the lost legends pertaining to the ancient gods, gods who were in truth little more than evil, parasitical tyrants. Not that most of those who worshipped them knew that. Supposedly there were hundreds of scrolls, holding thousands of lost spells and the secrets to the rites of immortality that every Egyptian Pharaoh, magical or not, practiced at one time or another during their life.

Voldemort was not interested in the rites of immortality as many of them required supplication to a higher being that not only did he not worship but he also refused to allow anything to hold dominance over him. Besides there were many other pieces of magic, generally of a darker sort, that allowed him to anchor his soul to the earth. Though he knew that without finding Reshep that the next time he was killed would be the last. The logical part of his mind told him that even with Reshep it would not be wise to take death blows; he would settle for eternal life though and kill any who sought to end it.

Finding the temple was easy, it was not meant to be hidden from magical people in the beginning and even after it was records of its location existed throughout the world. Voldemort was a connoisseur of history and had perused more than one document that gave him the temple’s location.

It was an amazing sight, equal to that of Hogwarts at the very least. Great pillars dominated the desert scene; they were covered with pictures and hieroglyphs. A score and a half of steps led up to the entrance, guarded by a pair magical constructs twice the size of a large man.

It had been easy for Voldemort to enter Egypt undetected. Crossing borders, magical and mundane, without leaving a trace of his passage was a skill that he had perfected before his twentieth year. Once he was in Egypt he placed a simple metal square on the ground in front of him, just beyond the wards that protected the temple. Magically linked to a second square within Malfoy Manor a pillar of energy burst up from the square at Voldemort’s command. Within the energy he could see the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Without a word Lucius and a score of his finest Death Eaters that remained outside of Azkaban stepped out of the portal. Purebloods that all, apart from Lucius, hailed from Eastern Europe, a place rife with upstart Dark Wizards since the fall of the Soviet Union and its iron fist law enforcement. They were all skilled fighters, just the thing that Voldemort needed.

Behind some of his most feared came creatures of the Dark, cannon fodder in truth yet they would fight for him to achieve the equality that the Wizarding World had long denied them.

Equality, that Voldemort would never grant, even in victory.

A dozen feral werewolves, barely little more than animals, followed their pack leader Fenrir Greyback through the portal. Their poor magical skills, a legacy of being denied formal education because of their curse, meant that they were of limited use in a magical fight. Armed with massive battleaxes that were bound with runes they would serve as his berserkers, greater even then those of Norse mythology.

Behind them came a score of Ogres, wild creatures that were thought to be the descendants of a union between Trolls and humans, or perhaps Trolls and Giants. Like the werewolves they carried rune bound weapons. Seven of the Ogres carried small baskets, each one containing a newborn magical child, hours old. With the magic and life force of one child Voldemort could work powerful magic of a sort that a person of morals wouldn’t dare touch. There were seven because that was the most magically powerful number that Voldemort knew.

The portal faded, its energy spent for the moment.

Voldemort’s Curse Breaker, a man born of an affair between two married purebloods and known only as Yuri as neither claimed him, was standing mere inches from the wards, his hands all but touching them as he examined the new magic.

“Peace Yuri, given a day and year you could not break these wards. I have something special in mind for them.” Yuri bowed and retook his place with the other Death Eaters. “Lay the sacrifices on the ground.” Voldemort ordered.

The babies were taken from the baskets, each on unclothed and arrayed behind Voldemort. Branded over their hearts was an Arabic rune of theft, corresponding with the runes that Voldemort had cut into the palm of his left hand.

“Stand ready my Death Eaters. The Ogres shall lead our attack, Fenrir you and yours shall follow them whilst I follow with my Death Eaters. Yuri it is your task to cast the Anti-Transportation Wards that will stop the priests from fleeing or seeking aid. Do so immediately after I destroy these protections.”

Voldemort’s red eyes gleamed as he watched the pulsing web of magic. A harsh word escaped his mouth and for one instant the babies cried out in pain and terror as the slimy touch of Voldemort’s magic descended over them. As quickly as they had begun the cries stopped, the babies falling forever silent as Voldemort robbed them of their life force and magic.

A ball of power, as black as coal and reeking of the putrefying scent of death, appeared above his left hand. It was made from the stolen life and magic of the babies. Barely bigger than a tennis ball it looked almost innocuous. With strength that his frail frame didn’t appear to have Voldemort hurled the stolen power at the wards where it crashed into them and disappeared.

For a moment it looked as though nothing would happen and then a thunderclap split the air and in a brilliant flash wards that had withstood invading armies for more than a thousand years fell.

All because of one man.

“Forward.” Voldemort roared, his eyes shining with mad delight.

…

Dark power flooded Voldemort’s body as he drew deeply on the magic that had been denied to him for over a decade. Gore covered him as he blew the chest of a Warrior-Priest outwards, spinning he caught the attack of another with a shield and prepared to retaliate only for Greyback to bear the man to the ground, tearing at his throat in a manner more befitting a vampire than a werewolf.

The inside of the temple was exactly as Voldemort had imagined it to be. The walls were covered with ancient scenes and statues of human bodies bearing animal heads.

The gods themselves.

An Ogre charged him, its mind enthralled. Voldemort snarled an Immolation Curse before banishing the burning creature back at the Priest who had twisted its mind. That one of his werewolf allies was set aflame by it bothered him not.

A roar of anger filled the air and Voldemort spun in time to see the High Priest appear with another four of his fellows. The man’s bronze skin stood out starkly in the darkness of the temple. Runes covered his arms in the ancient Egyptian manner used for focusing ones magic, his palms slit to allow ready access to Blood Magic. Sickly yellow light burst from the man’s outstretched fingers, shattering the souls of two Death Eaters that were engulfed by it.

Slashing his left palm with the tip of his wand Voldemort thrust the bleeding appendage forward. “Cruorem Incendia!” A plume erupted from the open hand and the duel…

…Dark Lord versus High Priest…

Began.

Orbs of silver magic exploded in the air around Voldemort, impacting against the personal wards that he wove around himself each day. Acid blasted from the tip of his wand, forcing the High Priest back. Despite his position he just couldn’t match the raw power that was available to Voldemort. The ground opened at Voldemort’s call and fire burst from within the gaping chasm. He wove spells to induce fear and never ending sleep towards the High Priest before summoning a cloud of poison gas around the man. As the High Priest dispelled the cloud Voldemort flicked his wand, almost arrogantly, and intoned his final spell.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Eyes wide in horror the High Priest had no time to dodge, no chance of using his magic to summon or conjure a defence. The green light washed over him and he fell, dead. All around him the Warrior-Priests faltered in their furious defence of the temple. That was one slight moment of hesitation was all Voldemort’s followers needed.

The battle lasted mere seconds longer.

The Temple of Amun-Ra had fallen.

Voldemort was one step closer to finding Reshep.

He was winning a race that his enemies weren’t even aware was being run.

…

Hours later, from a safe distance, Voldemort watched as the temple burned. The column of Fiendfyre that he had summoned tore through it, destroying a building as old as any other great structure. Dozens of trunks held all that he had thought to take from the temple. Scrolls, artefacts and even the very scenes that had covered the walls had been carefully removed and packed away along with a great store of wealth.

Turning his back on the tragic scene Voldemort reactivated the portal, stepping through after his fighters. Minutes after he had disappeared the portal disk, the only definite sign that it had been Voldemort who performed the attack, exploded.

…

August 2005, New York City, Department of Magic Safe House

“I can’t believe that you got private lessons from Dumbledore, Harry.” Hermione said breathlessly with the barest hints of jealousy.

Harry could understand her jealousy, she craved knowledge and Dumbledore was just about the most knowledgeable person they knew of. Still it did make him slightly uncomfortable though that could have been because he was lying to his friends as well.

Need to know Sam had called it when he confessed how he felt about it to her.

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.” She finished crossly.

“It was important that no one knew Hermione. I survived against Voldemort long enough to be rescued in the graveyard because he had underestimated me.” Harry said.

“But you could have told us.” Ron complained. “It’s not like we would have told anyone.”

“That doesn’t matter Ron.” Harry replied his tone sharper then he’d intended it to be but he had already had this conversation with the redhead twice. “There are ways of taking the information from your mind without you knowing anything had happened and that’s not even taking into account you being captured and tortured.”

“Yeah but you can stop that Legilimency thing you told us about, I don’t see why we couldn’t be trained as well.” Ron finished sulkily.

Harry had to admit that that was a good point and one that he couldn’t really refute without putting the blame on Dumbledore.

Well the man did owe him.

“Dumbledore thought it would be best just to train me.” Harry lied smoothly. “You’ll have to ask him why, he never really answered me when I asked him, you know what he’s like. Says a lot but doesn’t really tell you anything.”

Ron turned away muttering but he didn’t pitch his voice low enough. “Bloody Boy-Who-Lived, gets everything.”

Harry’s ever volatile temper, frayed even more since his sojourn to Azkaban, rose to the surface, despite his best efforts to push it back down. “I get everything Ron. Of course I do. I mean I’ve parents who love me and a Godfather who can walk down Diagon Alley without being captured and Kissed. Oh! That’s right, I don’t. You must be talking about how I can leave Hogwarts and walk right into a professional Quidditch career. Except I can’t because I lost my fucking arm fighting Voldemort.” Harry snarled brandishing his metal arm. When Ron flinched at the Dark Lord’s name Harry just got angrier. “Grow up; it’s a fucking name Ron. Maybe it’s time you put aside your goddamn inadequacy issues and realise that for everything I have I lost something, something that I can never get back.”

“I got money and became the Boy-Who-Lived but lost my parents and Godfather in the process. I get trained by Dumbledore to fight Voldemort because that’s why he trained me.” Harry didn’t even feel guilty about lying now. “We’re at war Ron and I’m caught in the middle of it. I don’t have time to hold your hand so you either need to grow up or fuck off.”

Harry spun on his heel and left the Common Room, ignoring the wide eyed looks that Hermione and Ginny were shooting him as his magic manifested in response to his anger. Ron just stared at his retreating back, pale.

…

Harry watched as the Portkey dragged Remus, Sirius, Ron, Ginny and Hermione from the safe house. Of the five he was only talking with Remus and Sirius.

Hermione had thought that he should be more sensitive to Ron’s inadequacies and that he should apologise, something which Harry refused to do leading to an argument between them. Ginny had attempted to browbeat him into apologising to both of his friends and then almost slapped him because of his refusal. Having grown up with Vernon Dursley Harry wasn’t about to let anyone hit him if he could help it and had caught her arm, warning her that if she hit him he’d hex her.

Remus and Sirius had tried to organise something of a reconciliation between them before giving up at Harry’s request. Most of the visit had been spent with Harry discussing Voldemort and the first war with the two Marauders and practicing his magical combat skills.

Harry let out a sad sigh as they disappeared. Maybe it was for the best, he rationalised, maybe it was better if Ron and Hermione weren’t as closely associated with him as they normally were. Somehow he didn’t quite believe it.

Turning away from the departure area Harry felt determination fill him.

It was time to prepare for war.