"Very good, Harry!" Flitwick shouted, beaming from his spot. The professor had the slightest sheen on his forehead, while Harry was bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping and sodden, dripping sweat from his face and even his shirt.

He hadn't felt so good in months.

"Your chaining has gotten exceptionally good," Flitwick commended him. "Your power has increased, and your agility more so."

From the sidelines, Moody snorted. "Runnin' all over the place...Harry, have you ever seen a muggle fight?"

Harry nodded, thinking. "Like boxing?"

"That's the one - strange name they chose for it," Moody grumped. "Almost always someone chooses to be the aggressor, and while that can change in a fight, statistically, the aggressor wins more often than the defender."

Harry pushed himself upright, thankful that the stitch in his side was fading. "Element of surprise, I know," he repeated. "Constant vigilance."

"That's not my point, kid," Moody replied, "Nobody in those fights has the element of surprise. Aggression is part of it, but the other part was simply that the aggressor had to move less. If his opponent takes a full step to the right, he only has to take a partial step. In a game of endurance and conditioning, every little bit counts."

Harry squinted at the two. "That's not so encouraging," he admitted. "You're basically saying I'm taking the losing strategy."

"Not at all, Harry!" Flitwick countered. "Your fights will most certainly not be in a box. Your conditioning will be better than most anyone you face - now you need to start learning to force them to move as much as you."

Harry glanced toward the door, and a moment later it opened to allow Dumbeldore in. The aged wizard was slowing ever more as the curse on his arm affected more and more of his body. "Headmaster."

"Hello, Harry," Dumbeldore said, voice tired but still with enthusiasm. "Your magical sensing is improving."

"I'll say!" Flitwick grinned. "Moody shot a spell at him from behind and he ducked it!"

"Got him with the follow up spells," Moody grunted.

"Oh no, I went down to a sneak attack by the feared Mad-Eye Moody while also dueling the multi-circuit champion Flitwick!" Harry said dryly, a grin on his face. "Nobody's going to fault me for that. I know, I know," he amended, "the death eaters won't fight fair. I'm going to keep getting better - I'm just glad to see this kind of progress. So how do I force a more experienced fighter to move as much as I do?"

"Transfiguration," Dumbledore said, moving onto the floor. "Transfiguring objects to attack your opponent can distract them and give you an opening. Even if they put down the conjuration before it causes harm, it can force them to move."

Harry grinned and turned to Flitwick. "New curse chains to learn, I guess?"

Flitwick bowed. "I would be honored, but we thought it prudent for you to learn from the best: the Headmaster."

"Really?" Harry's jaw hung for a moment, then he snapped it closed. "Headmaster, I…"

"Think nothing of it, Harry," Dumbledore deflected the gratitude Harry was clearly grasping for. "I trust you will not share this with other students? It would take up precious time if I was being bombarded with angry parents about favoritism."

"Of course, headmaster," Harry said quickly. "Where do we start? Memorizing chains?"

"It's not quite as easy as charms - no offense, Filius," Dumbledore said, while the half-goblin waved him off. "Charms allow for creativity and subjectivity. Do you remember when young Ronald attempted to transfigure a certain rat into a goblet?"

"It was furry and had a tail," Harry recalled. "It was an incomplete transfiguration."

"That's right," Dumbledore agreed. "There are certainly go-to transfiguration spells for dueling, primarily because their wand movements are the beginning or end of other spells. However, people have different experiences with different things, and that experience shapes the easiest transfigurations for them to learn. For example, who do you think could transfigure a better hippogriff: Hagrid, or Charlie Weasley?"

"Hagrid, because he's had a hippogriff," Harry realized.

"And a better dragon?"

"Charlie, because he works with them - though Hagrid tried."

"Very good, Harry. So let's work on figuring out some good transfigurations for you. We'll need a range of options particularly in size, so that you don't have to worry so much on trying to stretch a smaller object into a large one."

"Like a footstool into a hippogriff," Harry offered.

"Quite." Dumbledore nodded. "Any ideas?"

"Well, Sirius was a grim in his animagus form..." Harry considered. "I know he'd be delighted to be one of my attack transfigurations."

"Excellent, my boy!" Dumbledore beamed. "Let's work on the incantation...

Harry and Hermione glanced up from the table as Neville entered the room. "What's the news, Neville?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"There's not much available in the way of help," Neville said shortly, sitting down. "That was a great idea, Hermione. All the people reaching out to befriend me as the new head of house made it easy to ask lots of questions. The short version is that most countries' wizarding governments are primarily focused on keeping us secret from the muggles, and the nobles bickering and trying to one up each other. Until Volde - he who must not be named conquers magical England and officially establishes himself as a threat, they're not likely to help."

"Too busy trying to advance themselves," Harry said bitterly. "Fine."

"How could they do that!" Hermione was indignant. "Don't they know he'll come for them next?"

"We don't know that, Hermione," Harry said. "People don't tend to take action on things until it becomes too comfortable for them not to." He held up his hands. "Look at us, even. We've been mostly reactive to everything the dark lord has done. It took losing Sirius to get me on the offensive - and I hate myself for it."

"Don't hate yourself, Harry," Hermione replied. "The adults were supposed to handle this a long time ago. It wasn't wrong for us to look to them to do so."

"She's right, Harry," Neville added. "It's not wrong to have a childhood - or to try having one."

Harry shook himself as emotions tried to seize control. Taking a deep breath, then slowly releasing it, he smiled at the others, eyes misty. "Thanks, guys."

"No problem, Harry," Neville grinned, clapping him on the back. "Where are we?"

"You should see what Hermione put together!," Harry grinned, pulling out a huge parchment. "Check out these charts!"

Neville blanched at the rows and columns. "When did you make this, Hermione! It had to take hours."

"Most of the night," Hermione admitted.

"What are these columns here?" Neville asked.

"Owl flight times, and average order response times," Harry supplied. "She didn't just track down all the best and most affordable potion ingredients: Hermione figured out how to have all the orders arrive almost simultaneously. Doing it that way will keep people from knowing the demand, so we likely won't be price-gouged."

"That's brilliant, Hermione!" Neville grinned.

"I know, right?" Harry added. Hermione blushed at their praise.

"That's all well and good, but what about preparing all those potions?" she asked.

"I've got that covered," Harry answered. "I've got six potions masters contracted and on their way to England now."

Neville frowned. "We're not using Snape?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't fully trust him."

Neville shrugged. "Fair enough."

Harry's eyes caught a glint of light, and he grinned broadly. "Lord Longbottom," he said imperiously, "could it be that you've gone and got your own wand?"

Neville grinned, his excitement breaking through his reluctance to admit he had gone against his grandmother's wishes. "I did!" he said. "You were right, Harry. Ollivander was almost a little cross with me for waiting so long to come in."

"Let's see it!" Hermione said excitedly.

Neville produced the wand, a light tan color with supple waves that made it easy to visualize the branch it had been cut from. "Cedar, ten inches with unicorn hair," Neville said, flicking it. "Some flexibility."

Harry smiled. "It feels right," he said. "You feel it, too?"

"Already, yeah," Neville affirmed, looking fondly at the wand. "Ollivander said it was a shame I didn't start with it, since my wand would have had more time to grow used to me, but he said it would make up for lost time."

"Let's give it a run, shall we?" Harry stood and stretched, pulling his own wand out. "Let's see the difference."

"Fine, where shall stupefy!" Neville said, firing the spell at point blank range. Harry barely sidestepped it on instinct, his wand moving to cast his shield.

"Protego!"

"Stupe-" Neville started, only to be cut off by Hermione.

"Depulso!" Hermione snapped, the banishing charm tossing Neville across the room and smashing Harry's shield, sending him skidding back. For a brief moment both wizards stared as Hermione glared fiercely at them.

"Not. Near. My. Books."

The silence after her statement was pronounced, then interrupted as Harry started chuckling, which Neville eventually joined before it built up to full blown laughter. Hermione eventually joined them, a little embarrassed and simultaneously pleased with the effect of her spell.

"Blimey, Hermione," Harry grinned, channeling his inner Ron. "We should have just told you that the dark lord hated books."

"Your impromptu dueling session was endangering that chart you both admired just a moment ago!" she complained, smiling.

"Sorry about that," Harry replied.

Neville likewise apologized, then turned to Harry. "You've been training with Moody, haven't you!" he accused. "I was sure you wouldn't expect a surprise attack from me!"

"I didn't," Harry admitted. "I felt you starting to channel your magic for a spell before your wand was leveled."

Neville stared. "You're kidding."

Harry shrugged. "Nope."

"That's amazing, Harry!" Hermione said excitedly. "Did you know it was a stunner?"

"I - I don't think so," Harry said slowly, searching his mind. "It's not really a science."

Hermione snorted. "Since when is anything in the magical world a science?" she complained. "It's not a science yet. Turn around. I'm going to silent cast, and you guess what spell I use."

"Moody will kill me for turning my back on you," Harry said, complying nonetheless. He heard Hermione take a breath, then spoke. "Levitation spell."

"Harry," Hermione breathed, "I hadn't even started to cast it yet. That's incredible."

Harry chuckled. "Not really. I guessed it. You probably wanted to try a new spell you've been working on, but for the sake of the experiment knew it needed to be something we're both familiar with. Why wouldn't it be wingardium leh-vee-OH-sa?" he grinned, remembering when Hermione established her smarts in front of the whole class.

Turning bright red, Hermione stomped her foot unconsciously. "You - you - turn back around!" she sputtered. "That's cheating! You're ruining the experiment!"

"I'm not turning around!" Harry said, backing up a little in alarm. "You're going to use the stinging hex on me!"

"Harry Potter!" Hermione raged. "Predict this!"

This time it was Neville using a shield charm to protect himself and Hermione's books and charts.

Rita Skeeter was shuffling through papers in her office as she put together her story of the latest attack by the dark lord's followers. While a war made for lots of material and no shortage of people to lay blame with, she had to admit she was getting a little concerned. Nothing seemed to be going well, and she would prefer the fights to be balanced. A little death and tragedy for both sides would make for the best writing, but with the dark lord losing the war of attrition in the end.

Instead it was attack after attack, innocent wizards and witches dying, and the death eaters never losing a person.

A knock on the outside of her door brought her gaze up, then practically stopped her heart. Harry Potter was standing there.

"Lord Potter," she finally managed, glad to see no wand in his hand - though being cursed by him would make a fabulous story. "What can I do for you?"

"Your job," Harry said bluntly.

"You have a story for me?" she asked warily. "Or are you wanting a retraction? It's too late for that-"

"I have a story for you," Harry cut in. "House Potter is rising again. I'll be moving back into the family mansion. It'll be a big, and private event."

She raised her eyebrow, but Harry continued. "You're the first to know outside my circles. I tell you because as invitations go out and the rumors start circulating, I know you will trying to find everything out. I figured I'd get ahead of that."

"So you want me to write a piece now?" she asked, confused.

"The opposite." Harry stated firmly. "I know you can't help digging up what you can. My request is that you not publish anything until I say so - and in return, I'll grant you the exclusive reporter spot at the actual event. If the Prophet publishes anything before I want, I'll give the reporter spot to someone from the Quibbler, and I'll tell the Prophet's editor exactly why it went down that way."

"Having an event without the Prophet reporting on it will hardly enhance the legitimacy you're obviously wanting to achieve," Rite countered.

"I agree," Harry answered. "But answer me this: do you want to have to do the work of trying to sneak into a private event, writing a story on what scraps of information you get, and risk the consequences of being caught - or do you want the full scoop as an invited reporter? And do you think your editor will be okay with settling for the scraps when you have an offered path to the best?"

Rita took a deep breath, calculating the prestige of the offer. "Fine. I'll do it, Potter," she answered.

Harry grinned. "Thanks, miss Skeeter," he said, then sauntered off.

Three nights later, Madam bones was pulled from a fitful sleep as messages began coming in of death eater attacks. For an hour she sent out orders, dispatching squads of aurors to each location. It was after five minutes of silence and her tense waiting for reports when the wards alerted her that her own home was under attack.

Cursing to herself, she cleared her mind and then focused on her favorite memory: the arrival of a Hogwarts letter for her niece little girl had screamed and then run around the house screaming even more in joy for three hours. They had celebrated with Florean Fortescue's ice cream that evening.

"Expecto patronum," she breathed, and a white mist sprang from her wand, forming into a jack rabbit. "Aurors, this is Amelia Bones! My home is under attack!" she said urgently but calmly, and then sent the message on its way. The rabbit bounded through the walls, and she quickly slipped into her robes before making her way to Susan's room.

"Susan, get up," Amelia said firmly, shaking the girl. Susan immediately started, eyes puffy.

"Aunt Amelia?"

"Death eaters are attacking," Amelia explained. "Let's get to the floo."

Susan nodded and rolled out of bed, grabbing her wand and a picture of her parents before following. They had established the plan some weeks previous. Reaching the parlor, Susan tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic!" she called, to no avail.

Susan deigned to comment on the dirty word that slipped from her aunt's lips. "What now?"

Amelia cast the charm to check the integrity of the wards, noticing that they were rapidly being torn down. "Susan, do you remember the cubby you used to play in under the stairs to the cellar?"

"No," Susan said with more firmness than she expected. "I'm not going to hide."

"They might not find you," Amelia countered. "They're under stress-"

"They've left no survivors at each home they've hit," Susan recalled. "They won't miss me. Whatever I can do to help, I'll do. Let's try to take some of them down."

Amelia smiled at the bravery of her niece. "Very well, Susan," she said, tears in her eyes. "I respect your choice. How's your protego?"

"It's ok," Susan admitted. "I don't know how it'll do against death eaters, but…"

"That'll be fine," Amelia said. "And help might yet come. Follow me."

As they went to the front of the house, Amelia gave orders. "Get to the study and wait. I'll be cursing them from the entryway. After the wards come down, they'll be focusing their attacks on me. I'll fade back to the parlor. I want you to wait till you have a clean shot at their flank. Fire a stunning spell on the one in the very back, then a severing spell at the same one. With any luck they won't notice him go down, and then you can get a clean kill. If it takes more than one severing spell, it's ok. If the opportunity presents itself, repeat the process. The moment they notice you, get to the parlor, and at that point your job is to keep a protego up."

Susan nodded nervously, and they parted ways at the entry way.

Amelia checked the ward, pleased that they had lasted this long. "Let's frustrate the bastards," she muttered, placing her hand on a ward stone, then pouring magic into it. Instantly she felt the weakening of the magical barriers begin to slow. There was a pause, then the attacks intensified, and she knew the dark robed figures had realized what she was doing.

One hand on the stone, the other holding her wand, Amelia selected a death eater on the left flank, and took careful aim. "Confringo!"

The blasting curse flicked through her defensive wards and almost reached the mark, a hasty protego blocking it at the last moment. "Diffindo!"

The severing curse didn't make it either, the death eaters now alert to her defense. Disappointed but not surprised, Amelia pumped a little more energy to the wards, then was knocked backwards as they suddenly shattered, along with the windows.

Voldemort. The thought and despair of the realization washed through her as she picked herself up. Only Voldemort had that kind of power, and Amelia knew now she and Susan were dead.

But they weren't going to go down without a fight. Casting charms left and right, Amelia conjured six asps, sending them to the walls around the door to await her attackers. "Snakes for snakes," she muttered to herself, then transfigured the walls and doors to stone before stepping back to a window and opening fire.

Her chain was a withering mix of curses and jinxes, explosive spells and prank spells, designed to overwhelm their shields, slip by the hasty defenses, and break their ranks. A quick animation turned the tree into her front lawn into a miniature womping willow that slammed one of the death eaters off into the streets before her enchantment was removed.

A blasting curse suddenly impacted her house, cracking the now stone walls, and Amelia grimaced. Voldemort had stepped in to take down the ward, and now he was apparently stepping up to stop her defense. While it again added to her despair, Amelia was mildly amused that her walls had withstood his blasting charm. For facing the dark lord and his minions, she wasn't doing too badly.

The next blasting curse shattered the walls, spraying the room with debris, but she had already retreated, knowing the danger. Susan joined her moments later.

"Get any?" Amelia asked.

"Stunned one, but they noticed it," Susan confessed. "He was shielded and revived."

"You did well," Amelia confirmed. "Ready to shield?"

Susan nodded, brandishing her wand as Amelia enchanted the furniture to prepare to attack. For a long moment they waited, then she heard the exclamation and cries of surprise as her snakes engaged the enemy.

"Bombarda!" Amelia cried, firing a high powered spell through the doorway and then beginning to chain. Susan cast her protego, and then waited for the end.

Spells began puncturing the walls, then a snarling wolf darted through the doorway, almost reaching them before Amelia put it down. She wasn't the only one who could transfigure. Amelia, head of the magical law enforcement, put on a clinic as she fired spells, blocked incoming curses, and animated practically everything in the house to attack, maim, and distract her enemies.

If only Voldemort hadn't been there.

A spell Amelia didn't know shattered every piece of furniture in the home, then another blew the roof off with a howl. Bellatrix's cackle of awe broke through, and Amelia sent a rather nasty cutting curse in that direction.

Voldemort's bombarda smashed Susan's shield and threw them both into the wall, knocking the wind from them, Amelia feeling something crack in her side. As the fog cleared, her senses returned, and she became aware that the death eaters were standing over them, Voldemort staring down with red eyes.

"A vain attempt at resistance, madam Bones," Voldemort rasped. "One that will not be remembered. The plan was to simply kill both of you, but since you have wasted our time…" he turned, leveling his wand at Susan. "Cruc-"

Voldemort trailed off, cocking his head to the side as if hearing some unseen voice, then a split second later his eyes widened. "Dumbledore!" he swore, and then they felt fresh wards snap into place.

Dumbledore's banishing charm was every bit as impressive as Voldemort's, blasting through the house at waist level and tossing most of the death eaters like rag dolls. Voldemort, Bellatrix and two masked wizards or witches remained upright, and instantly began firing spells in Dumbledore's direction.

From behind Dumbledore, counter spells and curses likewise began to fly. The order of the Phoenix had arrived in force.

"Return to the base, you fools," Voldemort snarled. "This isn't yet the fight we want."

"They have anti-apparition wards up, sir!" one of the death eaters reported.

"Use your portkey, idiot!" the other replied. The first grabbed at a necklace and muttered something, but nothing happened.

"It's a trap," Voldemort realized. "Hold off the headmaster!" he ordered, firing off a powerful curse then stepping back, his wand weaving a diagnostic charm as he checked the wards holding them in. "This one…" he muttered, as Amelia gasped for breath, grudgingly respectful of Voldemort's skill and knowledge.

More death eaters were back on their feet, the majority helping to shield against Dumbledore's powerful curses, a few firing back. With a cry, one went down, blood pooling beneath his leg. Within seconds, he was dragged back by the others, a stabilizing charm applied to the wound.

"Adelica!" Voldemort snarled suddenly, his magic pulsing with power as he broke a ward. "I've got the defense - portkeys now!"

The snake-like man stepped forward, wand spitting curses, and within moments the death eaters whirled away, Voldemort firing one last curse before likewise vanishing, a torrent of spells passing through the space he once occupied.

"Madam Bones!" Kingsley said, darting forward and tossing rubble aside. "Are you okay?"

Amelia tried to speak, to say she was fine and to ask how they had gotten there so quickly, but all she could manage was, "Susan?"

"Alive but unconscious," Kingsley answered. "We'll have you both to St. Mungo's right away."

"...how?"

"Alastor and Tonks have been watching your home in shifts, I guess," Kingsley shrugged. "They said Potter had the warding stones placed almost a week ago. Dumbledore was the one that activated them. We almost got some of the death eaters because of it."

Amelia tried to say more about the trap still being good for morale, but unconsciousness took her.

Moody's warning had landed Harry and Tonks there long before anyone else, and the latter two watched from the edges under Harry's invisibility cloak as the death eaters rained fire on the Bones household. When the tree knocked one of the assailants to the street and Dumbledore had arrived and sprung the trap, the two of them acted. By the time the wards had gone up, they had dragged the stunned death eater down an alley and under the cloak with them.

"Innervate," Tonks said, the death eater's eyes snapping open.

"Imperio!" Harry cast immediately afterwards. "Name every death eater you know not currently dead or in prison!"

"Peter Pettigrew…" the man slurred, long pauses between each name as he fought the curse. "Antonin Dolohov...Evan Rosier...Fenrir Greyback…Bellatrix Lestrange...Corban Yaxley…" he went on.

"Harry, Voldemort just took the ward down!" Tonks snapped.

"Stupefy!" Harry stunned the death eater, shifting to the side to give Tonks room.

"Obliviate! Ennervate!"

The death eater's eyes barely opened before Harry jabbed his wand at him. "Imperio."

Voldemort landed neatly on his feet in Malfoy manor, seething with anger. Around him his scattered death eaters were picking themselves off the floor.

"A trap!" he snarled. "How did they know we were coming?"

Wisely nobody answered him. Bellatrix looked on, waiting for orders; most of the others were tending to wounds or helping others.

"Anyone missing?" Voldemort hissed, glancing about. As if in response, with a pop Travers appeared.

"What took you so long?" Voldemort demanded.

"I was hit by the tree," the man said blankly, turning to one of the wounded death eaters. "Yaxley...are you seriously hurt?"

Corban Yaxley, a man who had long taunted the Travers of his less impressive pedigree, stared while holding his side. "Just a bit of debris hit me - what's it to you?" he spat.

"Avada Kedavra," Travers said, the spell snuffing Yaxley out of existence a split second before Voldemort and Bellatrix's spells slammed Travers across the room.

"WHAT?" Voldemort roared. "Everyone's wands on the floor, NOW!"

The objects clattered to the floor while Voldemort quickly scanned them for the imperius, then he turned to Bellatrix.

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes, milord," she cackled, levitating Travers over to him. A quick innervate brought the man back to consciousness, the glazed look gone from his eyes, which darted back and forth and widened in terror as he looked up at a furious Voldemort.

"Please, please my lord!" Travers began babbling. "I didn't want to! I didn't want to! They imperiused me!"

"Silence!" Voldemort snarled. "Legilimens!"

A moment later the dark lord was done, Travers weeping on his knees before them all. "You're weak, Travers," Voldemort said almost absentmindedly. "Taken out by a tree? Then failing to shake off an imperius? You might have delayed in your orders long enough for me to realize and free you."

"What was the order, my lord?" Bellatrix asked.

"To kill as many death eaters as possible, starting the one he disliked the most," Voldemort answered, his thumb moving over his wand as he thought. "It was fortunate they didn't ask questi-"

"My lord!" Bellatrix shouted. "He's-"

Voldemort spun, wand flashing, to see Travers convulsing, foaming at the mouth. "A bezoar, or a draught of living death, quick!" he commanded.

One of the death eaters, mask still askew, scrambled from the room. Two spells later, Voldemort shook his head, giving up the attempt to save Travers. "Legilimens!"

Five seconds later, Travers died, and his memories faded to mist.

For a long moment everyone was silent, staring, not sure what to think, and more vitally not sure what Voldemort was thinking. The death eater sent for the potion ran into the room, pulling up short as he took in the scene.

"How very...aggressive," Voldemort said, sounding almost pleased. "How unusual."

"My lord?" Bellatrix asked.

"They used an unforgivable," Voldemort mused. "Someone knows that there's no rules in war. And they made Travers drink poison to cover their trail."

"Didn't you see their faces in Travers' memories, my lord?" another Death Eater asked.

"Not at all," Voldemort smiled. "They wore white masks, with asian symbols painted on the foreheads. Their accent was mostly British…"

For a moment Voldemort was silent, musing, then he suddenly snapped to attention. "Get yourselves healed!" he snapped. "Send for Severus if you must. And someone get me a pensieve! I'll be in the library."