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Hermione arrived at the Room of Requirement forty minutes before the scheduled meeting, her arms laden with training manuals and defensive texts she'd liberated from the Restricted Section. The door materialized on her first pass, the room knew her intent and welcomed her like an old friend.
Inside, she found Harry already there, standing in the center of what had become their primary training space. He wasn't practicing spells or arranging equipment. He was simply standing, staring at nothing, looking deep in thought.
"Harry?" she called softly, not wanting to startle him.
He turned, and for a moment she felt like she was staring at a much older Harry. Then he blinked and became just Harry again.
"Hey, Hermione. Thanks for coming early." He gestured to the space around them. "Thought we should modify the room before everyone arrives."
She set down her books, studying him carefully. "What did you have in mind?"
"Something less classroom, more battlefield." He pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment covered in sketches. "Multiple levels, obstacles, varying light conditions. They need to learn to fight in chaos, not controlled environments."
Hermione examined his drawings, impressed despite her growing unease. "This is quite advanced, Harry. Some of these scenarios..."
"Are what they'll face when Death Eaters come." His voice sounded deeper too. "Dolohov didn't wait for proper dueling etiquette before he cursed you. Bellatrix didn't give Sirius a sporting chance."
Hermione looked at Harry, waiting for him to have some kind of reaction. She knew Sirius's death had hurt him a lot, and on top of that, he had to spend his summer with his awful family. Hermione expected to see a crack, something she could notice so she could help him somehow, but Harry didn't seem in the mood to talk about anything.
"I know you're worried," he continued, softer now. "About teaching them too much too fast. But Hermione, we don't have the luxury of going slow anymore."
That's not what I am worried about, Hermione wanted to say, but instead..."What if someone gets seriously hurt? What if we push too hard and—"
"Then they get hurt here, where we can heal them, rather than out there where they die." The blunt words made her flinch. "I won't lose anyone else because they weren't prepared."
She wanted to argue, to insist there had to be a middle ground between safety and recklessness. But looking at Harry, she knew that was pointless, and if anything, it could lead to an argument that she did not want to have with Harry. She could handle Ron; when it came to arguments, he was always wrong, but not Harry; he was smarter than Ron.
"Alright," she said quietly. "Show me what you're planning to teach them."
Relief flickered across his face. He'd expected more resistance. "Standard shield charms first, but with variations for multiple attackers. Then something I've been working on." He stepped back, raising his wand. "Watch."
"Protego!" The familiar shield shimmered into existence. But then Harry made a sharp twisting motion, and the translucent barrier suddenly solidified, becoming an actual physical wall of blue-white energy. With a pushing gesture, the solid shield shot forward several feet before dissipating.
"Bloody hell," Hermione breathed. "Is that—did you create that?"
"Modified it, really." Harry lowered his wand, looking almost embarrassed. "Spent most of August practicing. Called it the Aegis Pulse. The shield becomes solid for about two seconds, long enough to physically push an attacker back or block solid objects, not just spells."
Hermione wondered if Harry realised that this wasn't as simple as he was making it out to be. "You're essentially converting pure defensive magic into a temporarily physical construct. The power requirements must be enormous."
"It is," he admitted. "Drains me if I use it more than a few times. But those two seconds could save someone's life."
She circled him, academic excitement overriding her earlier concerns. "Show me the wand movement again. Slower this time."
He demonstrated, and she tried to memorize the precise angles, the way his wrist rotated at exactly the right moment. "The twist has to be sharp," he explained. "Too slow and it just strengthens the regular shield. Too fast and the whole thing collapses."
"Can anyone else do it?"
"Not yet. Been trying to teach Ron, but..." He shrugged. "It's not exactly intuitive."
They spent the next twenty minutes modifying the room according to Harry's sketches. Platforms rose from the floor at varying heights, creating a vertical battlefield. Walls emerged seemingly at random, some solid, others illusory. The ceiling began cycling through different lighting—bright sunshine to twilight to pitch black with strobing spell-light.
"This is brilliant," Hermione admitted, testing the stability of a raised platform. "Terrifying, but brilliant."
"That's the idea." Harry surveyed their work with satisfaction. "They need to be ready for anything."
Students began arriving in small groups. The returning DA members entered, greeting each other warmly. But the new recruits, especially the three Slytherins, hovered near the entrance with obvious uncertainty.
Hermione watched Daphne Greengrass enter with Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott. The latter looked haunted, his aunt's funeral three days past leaving shadows under his eyes that matched Harry's. Daphne murmured something to him, and he nodded slightly, following her deeper into the room.
The house divisions were painfully obvious. Gryffindors dominated one side, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs mingled in the middle, while the three Slytherins stood isolated near the tactical table. Even Susan Bones, normally friendly to everyone, kept shooting suspicious glances at them.
This won't work if we can't get past house prejudice, Hermione thought, trying to calculate how to force integration without making it obvious.
Harry seemed to have the same thought. "Right, gather round," he called, his voice carrying new authority. "Everyone in a circle. No house groupings."
Reluctantly, the students complied. Hermione noted how Harry positioned himself so the Slytherins weren't completely separated, standing between them and Ron, who looked deeply unhappy about the arrangement.
"I need to say something before we begin," Harry started, his voice steady despite the weight of what he was about to discuss. "Look around you. Notice who's here and who isn't."
Confused glances were exchanged.
"Marietta Edgecombe isn't here," Harry continued. "Because she betrayed us. Zacharias Smith isn't here because he thought this was a joke. But more importantly—Cedric Diggory isn't here. Because Voldemort murdered him."
Several people flinched at the name. The casual reminder of death sent a chill through the room.
"My godfather, Sirius Black, isn't here. Because Bellatrix Lestrange killed him in the Department of Mysteries." Harry's voice roughened slightly. "How many more people won't be here by Christmas? By the end of the year?"
"Harry," Hermione said softly.
But he pressed on. "The Ministry wants you to believe everything's under control. That Aurors and adults will protect you. But where were the Aurors when Death Eaters invaded the Ministry itself? Where were the adults when we—a bunch of teenagers—had to fight for our lives?"
"I'm not saying this to scare you," Harry said, though that was exactly what he was doing. "I'm saying it because you need to understand what we're doing here. This isn't about passing exams or getting one over on Umbridge anymore. This is about survival. This is about making sure that when—not if, when—Death Eaters come for you or your families, you can fight back."
Hermione saw several younger students pale at the blunt words.
"Some of you are looking at our new members with suspicion," Harry continued, his gaze sweeping over everyone but lingering meaningfully on the Gryffindors. "Because they're Slytherins. Because their families might have Death Eater connections."
Daphne looked back at Harry with a look of respect, and Hermione wondered when this had started happening.
"My godfather came from one of the darkest pureblood families in Britain," Harry said quietly. "The Blacks produced more Dark wizards than almost any other family. But Sirius chose differently. He chose to fight against everything his family stood for. He died protecting people they would have murdered."
Hermione saw understanding dawn on several faces, though Ron still looked mutinous.
"Everyone in this room has made a choice," Harry continued. "To be here. To learn. To fight. That matters more than what house you're in or who your parents are. Because Voldemort doesn't care if you're Gryffindor or Slytherin when he's killing you. The Dark Mark doesn't check your blood status before the the Killing Curse hits."
"But how do we know—" Ernie Macmillan started.
"You don't," Harry cut him off. "You don't know who you can trust completely. Neither do I. But I know that dividing ourselves makes us weaker. I know that throwing away potential allies because of prejudice is exactly what Voldemort wants."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"We're not children anymore," he said finally, and the words carried a terrible weight. "Maybe we should be, maybe we deserve more time, but war doesn't care what we deserve. So we can either waste time with house rivalries and blood prejudice, or we can learn to fight together. Because I promise you—the Death Eaters won't hesitate. They'll come at you united in purpose, and if we're still divided, we'll fall."
The silence stretched taut as a wire. Then Luna, beautiful, strange Luna, broke it by stepping forward and extending her hand to Theodore Nott.
"I'm Luna Lovegood," she said dreamily. "You have remarkably symmetrical wrackspurts. Would you like to be my training partner?"
Theodore blinked at her, clearly thrown by the non sequitur. But after a moment, he took her hand. "I... yes? Thank you."
It was like a dam breaking. Susan Bones moved to greet Tracey Davis. Neville offered a shy smile to Daphne. Even Ron, grudgingly, nodded at the Slytherins.
Harry caught Hermione's eye, and she saw his relief. The speech had worked—for now.
"Right then," Harry said, voice returning to teaching mode. "Let's start with shield variations. Everyone spread out, arm's length apart."
As the students arranged themselves, Hermione heard Harry addressing the demonstration pairs. "Finnigan, you're with Boot. Patil—Parvati—with Davis. Thomas, you're with Longbottom. Greengrass, you're with Dean."
They began with standard shields, Harry moving between students with corrections and encouragement. His teaching had improved dramatically—gone was the awkward hesitance of the previous year, replaced by clear instructions and patient demonstrations.
"The key to maintaining a shield under multiple attacks," he explained, deflecting synchronized stunners from Ron and Hermione, "is not making it stronger, but making it flexible. Rigid shields shatter. Adaptive shields survive."
After thirty minutes of basic work, he called them back together. "Now, I'm going to show you something new. Something not in any textbook."
He demonstrated the Aegis Pulse again, the shield transforming into a solid barrier that shot forward. Gasps and excited murmurs rippled through the group.
"Wicked," Dean breathed.
"The wand movement is crucial," Harry explained, showing them slowly. "Regular shield, then a sharp twist—like you're turning a key—while pushing your magic outward. Don't force it. Guide it."
They spread out again to attempt it. Hermione focused intently, determined to master this new magic. She cast the shield easily enough, but when she tried the twisting motion, the barrier merely flickered.
"Come on," she muttered, trying again. And again.
Around her, similar frustration played out. Ron's shield collapsed entirely when he attempted the modification. Ginny managed to make hers opaque but not solid. Even the Ravenclaws, usually quick with new spells, struggled.
"I think I've got—no, wait, it's gone," Susan Bones said, her shield showing the barest hint of solidification before reverting to normal.
Surprisingly, Neville seemed to have the best grasp of it. His shield didn't fully solidify, but it held a semi-physical state longer than anyone else's attempts.
"Excellent work, Neville!" Harry called out. "You're getting the feel for it. Remember, it's not about power—it's about transformation."
Hermione gritted her teeth, attempting the spell again. The shield formed perfectly, but the moment she tried to solidify it, the entire construct wavered and collapsed. A frustrated sound escaped her throat.
"It's harder than it looks," Harry said quietly, appearing at her elbow. "Took me weeks to get it right."
"The theory makes sense," she insisted, trying once more. "I should be able to—"
"That's the problem," he interrupted gently. "You're overthinking it. This isn't about understanding the theory—it's about feeling the magic shift. Let instinct guide you, not intellect."
It went against everything in her nature, but she tried to follow his advice. Shield up, twist, push—and for a split second, she felt it. The barrier began to solidify, magic condensing into something more real. Then her concentration slipped and it dissolved.
"Better," Harry said with an encouraging smile. "You'll get it. Just need practice."
He moved on to help others, leaving Hermione with the uncomfortable realization that she wasn't going to master this spell today. Maybe not even this week. The frustration of not immediately excelling at something academic made her stomach twist.
After another twenty minutes with no one achieving full success, Harry called a halt. "That's enough for now. Remember, this is advanced magic. The fact that some of you got even partial solidification on your first try is impressive."
"Now," his expression shifted, becoming harder, "we're going to practice actual combat. Not dueling—fighting. In a real confrontation, Death Eaters won't bow and take ten paces. They'll attack from shadows, use the environment, fight dirty."
He waved his wand, and the room's modified layout became more apparent. Platforms, walls, varying terrain—a three-dimensional battlefield.
"Pairs again, but different partners this time." He began calling out names, deliberately mixing up the houses. "Basic rules: stunning, disarming, and binding spells only. The room has cushioning charms, but they're not perfect. You get hit, you stay down until I approach and tap you with my wand. Fight to incapacitate, not to hurt, but don't hold back. Your enemies won't."
Hermione found herself paired with Michael Corner, the Ravenclaw giving her a nervous smile. "So, uh, how do we—"
"Begin!" Harry shouted.
Michael barely got his shield up before Hermione's stunner crashed into it. She pressed the attack, forcing him back while her mind catalogued the environment—platform to the left, illusory wall behind him, real wall to his right.
"Impedimenta!" she cast, not at him but at the ground before his feet. He stumbled, shield dropping, and her follow-up "Stupefy!" caught him in the chest.
"Excellent environmental usage!" Harry called out. "Corner, you're thinking too linear. Wake him up, someone, and switch partners."
The next hour was chaos. Hermione fought six different opponents, winning four matches and losing two—once to Luna, whose completely unpredictable style included casting Confundus at the walls to make them seem closer than they were, and once to Ginny, whose vicious combination of hexes came so fast Hermione couldn't mount a defense.
Around her, similar battles played out. She saw Ron directing Dean into a trap with surprising tactical acumen. Neville, no longer the nervous boy of previous years, fought with determination that overwhelmed Anthony Goldstein's flashier style. Even the Slytherins proved their worth—Daphne's formal dueling training showed in her perfect form, though she struggled with the chaotic environment.
"Stop!" Harry called after a particularly intense exchange between Susan Bones and Theodore Nott that left both bleeding from minor cuts despite the cushioning charms. "Gather round."
They assembled, many sporting bruises and torn robes. The energy in the room had shifted—less suspicious, more unified through shared experience.
"That was good," Harry said, though his expression suggested otherwise. "But I saw too much textbook fighting. Proper spell chains, formal tactics. In a real fight, you need to be dirtier. Corner, why did you let Granger dictate the entire pace?"
"I... she came at me so fast—"
"Exactly. She took initiative. But you could have dropped prone, cast from the ground. Changed levels. Made yourself a smaller target." Harry demonstrated, dropping to one knee and firing off rapid spells from the lower angle. "Death Eaters expect you to fight like students. Surprise them."
He continued critiquing, praising Luna's unconventional methods and Ginny's aggression while encouraging others to think beyond their training. When he reached Daphne, Hermione noticed a small smile that quickly disappeared from his face like steam.
"Your footwork's improved since last time," Harry said, then quickly added, "since I observed in Defense class. But you're still too rigid. Formal training is good foundation, but you need to adapt faster."
Daphne nodded, accepting the criticism with grace, but Hermione saw the slight flush on her cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion.
Oh, Harry, she thought. What have you gotten yourself into?
"That's enough for tonight," Harry announced. "We'll meet again Thursday. Practice the shield variations, and start thinking tactically. Look at everyday spaces and ask yourself: where's cover? What can I use? How would I escape?"
As students began leaving in small groups, Harry pulled aside certain members for quick conferences. Hermione waited, knowing she'd be included in this inner circle.
"Susan, I'd like you to start working with the advanced group on those Auror techniques," Harry said quietly. "Thursday after the main session?"
Susan nodded, still flushed from combat but eyes bright. "I've been practicing the reflection ward. It's tricky, but I think I can teach it."
"Neville, those plants you and Hermione secured—can you have them ready by next week?"
"Already started acclimating them to defensive commands," Neville confirmed. "The AngryRoots are particularly responsive."
"Good. Luna..." Harry paused, clearly trying to frame his request in terms she'd understand. "I need you to keep doing what you're doing. Watching patterns, noticing things others miss."
"The nargles are very chatty lately," Luna agreed serenely. "Particularly around the seventh floor corridor near the Room of Requirement. Someone's been pacing there at odd hours."
Harry filed that information away. "Let me know if you notice anything specific. Daphne, Tracey—"
"Information gathering, we know," Daphne said smoothly. "There's already talk in our common room about tonight. Some are curious, others..." She shrugged elegantly. "We'll handle it."
"Carefully," Harry emphasized. "No risks. And Theo..." He turned to the haunted-looking boy. "You alright?"
Theodore Nott straightened slightly. "I'm functional. That's enough for now."
"If you need anything—"
"I'll manage." He interrupted Harry with a scowl. "But... thank you. For including me despite... everything."
The Slytherins left together, safety in numbers even within the castle. Soon, only the core group remained—Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna.
"So?" Harry asked, looking around at his closest allies. "Honest assessment?"
"Better than expected," Ron admitted grudgingly. "That Greengrass girl can actually fight. Though I still don't trust—"
"Ron," Hermione interrupted. "They took Veritaserum. They proved themselves tonight. What more do you want?"
"I want guarantees they won't stab us in the back when things get rough," Ron shot back. "Their families—"
"Are not them," Ginny said unexpectedly. Everyone turned to look at her. "What? I'm allowed to change my mind. They fought alongside us tonight. That counts for something."
"The wrackspurts agree," Luna added helpfully. "Very harmonious patterns during combat. Except around Harry when Daphne's near, then they turn quite pink and swirly."
Harry's face flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Liar, Hermione thought with a smile.
They spent another few minutes discussing logistics before dispersing. Hermione lingered, helping Harry restore the room to its default state.
"That was a good speech," she said quietly. "You reached them."
"Did I?" Harry slumped against the wall, exhaustion showing now that the others had gone. "Sometimes I feel like I'm playing at being a general. Like I'm going to get them all killed pretending I know what I'm doing."
"You're keeping them alive by teaching them to fight," Hermione corrected. "That's not pretending—that's leadership."
"Sirius would have been better at this," Harry said, pain flickering across his features. "He understood war. I'm just..."
"You're someone who survived Voldemort four times," Hermione interrupted firmly. "You've faced Death Eaters and lived. That experience matters, Harry. They believe in you because you've already done impossible things."
He managed a weak smile. "When did you get so good at pep talks?"
"Someone has to balance out your brooding," she teased gently. "Though speaking of impossible things..."
She watched carefully as Harry began gathering scattered training equipment. "You and Daphne seem to have developed quite the rapport."
His movements stilled for just a moment. "We've talked. About the war, houses, expectations. She's not what I expected."
"Apparently not," Hermione agreed neutrally. "Just... be careful, Harry."
"I know." He cut her off. "Trust me, I know exactly how impossible it is. But impossible things seem to be my specialty, right?"
He turned away, clearly ending that line of discussion. But as he moved toward the door, Hermione noticed him carefully pocket a small piece of parchment that had been lying near where Daphne had stood.
She said nothing. Harry and Daphne Greengrass. Of all the complications the war could bring, that one she hadn't seen coming.
The walk back to Gryffindor Tower was quiet, both lost in thought. The DA had reformed, stronger and more serious than before. They were teaching children to be soldiers, turning a school into a training ground.
Necessary, Hermione told herself. But that doesn't make it less heartbreaking.
Tomorrow there would be classes and homework and the pretense of normal school life. But tonight had shattered that illusion. They were at war.
And wars, Hermione knew from her extensive reading, had a way of making the impossible become inevitable.
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