The Dumbledore's Army sessions continued, their secrecy now a matter of habit rather than necessity. The group had been whittled down to a core of loyal, dedicated students who were making remarkable progress under Harry's tutelage. They had mastered shield charms, disarming spells, and were now tentatively beginning to practice stunning.
One evening, wishing to gauge their progress and readiness for herself, Ariana decided to attend a session. She did not participate. She simply took a seat in the back corner of their spacious training room, and observed.
She watched as Harry moved through the room, his confidence as a teacher now natural and assured. He corrected stances, offered quiet encouragement to a struggling Neville, and demonstrated a perfect Stunning Spell on a practice dummy. He was no longer just the Boy Who Lived; he was becoming a leader.
After the session ended and the other students had filed out, their faces flushed with exertion and accomplishment, Ariana remained, waiting as Harry, Ron, and Hermione put away the practice dummies.
"You have done well, Harry," she said as he approached, her voice holding a note of genuine, analytical approval. "Your instructional methods are efficient, and you have built a foundation of trust and morale within the group. They are significantly more competent than they were a month ago."
"Thanks, Ari," Harry said, a proud smile on his face. "They're a good group. The ones who stayed, anyway."
"Yes," she agreed. "Their loyalty is a valuable asset." She then gestured for him to sit. Her expression shifted, her usual serene calm replaced by a serious, focused intensity. The time for observation was over. It was time for the final briefing.
"We need to talk about the visions," she began, getting straight to the point. "They are getting clearer, more specific. You told me you saw the Department of Mysteries. A dark hallway lined with shelves of glass orbs."
Harry nodded, his good mood evaporating as the familiar dread returned. "Yeah. And I keep seeing… a door. At the end of it. I have this overwhelming feeling that I need to open it."
"That is Voldemort's will, not your own," Ariana stated calmly. "He is no longer just letting you see his thoughts. He is actively planting suggestions. He is building a narrative in your mind. He is familiarizing you with the terrain of the battlefield before the battle even begins. It is a classic psychological warfare tactic."
She leaned forward, her periwinkle eyes locking onto his. "Soon, he will make his move. He will send you a vision that is not just a glimpse, but an active, urgent crisis. He will show you someone you care about being tortured in that room. He will show you Sirius."
Harry's blood ran cold. The thought of Sirius, back in Voldemort's clutches, being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse… it was a vision so horrifying it was almost unbearable.
"He will make it feel real, immediate, and desperate," Ariana continued, her voice a low, steady anchor against the tide of fear rising in him. "He will count on your love for Sirius, on your
Gryffindor courage, on your heroic impulse to act first and think later. He will count on you rushing off to the Ministry to save him."
"And I would," Harry said, his voice a fierce whisper. "I'd have to."
"Yes," Ariana agreed. "Which is why you will not be acting alone. The moment you have such a vision, the very second it ends, you will not go to Ron or Hermione first. You will come directly to me. No matter what time of day or night. Do you understand?"
"Yes, of course," Harry said immediately.
"But," she added, her expression becoming even more serious, "we must account for all variables. There may be a situation where you cannot physically reach me. You may be in a different part of the castle. I may be in my laboratory. We need a communication method that is instantaneous, untraceable, and guaranteed to reach me."
She thought for a moment. Her Auror badge was for a full-scale emergency, a final resort. She needed something more personal, a direct line between herself and Harry.
"Your Patronus," she said, the solution clicking into place. "You can cast a full, corporeal Patronus. It is a unique piece of your own magic."
"But I can't make it talk," Harry said. "I don't know how."
"You do not need it to speak," she explained. "The Patronus is a projection of the caster's will and emotional state. When you cast it, do not try to send a message. Focus on a single, clear thought: Find Ariana. That is all. My own magical senses are… finely tuned. I will feel the approach of your magic. I will know it is your signature. And I will know it is a summons."
She held his gaze, impressing the importance of the protocol upon him. "Do not try to find me physically. Do not waste a single second searching the castle. Cast the spell. Send the stag. And I will find you. We will then activate the next phase of the plan together. Is that understood?"
It was a brilliant failsafe. A silent, magical alarm bell that only she could hear. It was a way for him to call for help without alerting anyone else, without breaking cover. It was a lifeline.
"Yes," Harry said, a profound sense of relief washing over him. The terrifying prospect of the vision now seemed manageable. He had a protocol. He had a way to signal his commander.
"Good," Ariana said, rising from her chair. "The training session is concluded."
She had done everything she could. She had prepared him, trained him, and now she had given him a direct, unbreakable line to her. She had built her fortress, armed her soldier, and established a line of communication. Now, all they could do was wait for the enemy to make his move. And when he did, they would be ready.