Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

Stand Tall: Chapter One: A Choice Made

AN: So, this is a Looking Beyond AU where the Resistance and the War are expanded on, lasting more than a few months. Some people didn't like the Greek Myths Arc of book 8 in LB, so haha this is a bit of a twist on it, so Celtic and Greco-Roman mythologies are very much present, some in ways you didn't expect.

For the lovely Cora who was very excited about this.

"SIRIUS!"

Sirius was falling back, back into the Veil, the last thing he was going to see was his goddaughter's terrified face, racing forward and reaching out for him. But she'd never reach him in time.

And yet…the Fates were on his side.

He could almost feel it warp against his back, and the next thing he knew, he was in a place of total blackness, except for one lone figure wrapped in raven feathers.

"Sirius Orion Black," a voice breathed in the silence, echoing oddly in the quiet, "Death has other plans for you."

Sirius reeled back with a startled "What?" before twisting to look back to where Hope was rushing forward. "No, I've got to—" But the owner of the voice snapped their fingers, dropping him through a hole that he couldn't even see before turning their attention to the child beyond the Veil, intrigued as she reached out enough for the tips of two fingers to breach the barrier that separated the physical realm from the godly.

Their eyebrows rose high when that faintest touch didn't kill her immediately.

But then the girl screamed and shook the room.

"Ah," they breathed, glee racing through them, "there you are."

And for a moment her eyes met their impossibly dark ones and they smiled. Soon, they promised, soon, my darling.

She'd gotten so close, after fifteen years of struggling, of her body being used like a cheap marionette, changed to suit her captor's needs as they arose. It was the most painful thing she'd ever experienced, being cut off from everything she knew and loved…that when the opportunity came, she had to take it.

He didn't notice until it was too late and they'd fallen through the water into an entirely different world.

And she shut her eyes to the endless shadows and the ravens cawing in the distance, praying for a merciful death.

The white tomb was clear as day, though not possible to be seen from deep within the Chamber of Secrets, but still Hope's thoughts lingered on it with a bit of morbid interest. Dumbledore's funeral had only been earlier that day, as had the three of them telling Professor McGonagall that they wouldn't be returning in the fall.

Hope rubbed over her arms, feeling uncommonly cold, despite the heat.

"So, what's the plan?" Ron's voice brought her back and she looked up. "You've got the 'I've got a plan' look."

Hope's mouth twitched, her eyes flicking between him and Hermione. She sat there for a moment, considering everything. She had a small pocket journal in her hands, spattered with various ink splotches alongside heated notes about Horcruxes.

"Dumbledore's dead," she said finally, "he's the last person that Tom was really afraid of…so any reason for him to wait it out died with Dumbledore…Fred and George are saying the Order thinks he won't attack until the Trace fades when I'm seventeen, but if I know Tom…he won't want to wait that long."

Hermione stiffened and Ron scowled.

"You think he'll be waiting for you when you get back to the Dursleys?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe, maybe not, but personally I'm not really planning to find out." Hope shrugged. "And I'm through with listening to what the Order says, nothing they've said, nothing they've done has made me feel any safer or any more like they weren't trying to keep information from us…"

Hope remembered months ago when she'd snapped before Bellatrix had tried to grab her. "Let me know if you need me to vanquish any Dark Lords, since that's apparently all I'm good for!" It honestly still felt like that. "At this rate we'd probably be better off making our own resistance."

"That's not a half-bad idea," Ron said after a moment.

"What? Of course, it's a bad idea!" Hope countered. "Leading a resistance? Are you mad?"

"You're the one that suggested it!" he countered. "Besides, you've been leading the DA for two years, how is this any different?"

Hope raked a hand through her hair. "Because! Because this is different! This is war!"

"That's what you've been telling us the whole time!" Ron insisted and Hermione nodded in agreement. "That it's different out there! That it's different when people are trying to kill you! We fought in the Department of Mysteries and we fought here! We know what we're doing and we're not afraid to fight for it!"

Hope found herself staring a bit bemusedly at both him and Hermione. There had been no question of taking them with her to find the Horcruxes…but this? Hope didn't know. She pressed a hand against her brow, rubbing over her scar. "I'm not saying that it wouldn't be a good idea…but where would we even start?"

"Could start by informing the masses," a voice piped up and Hope twisted wildly to see almost every DA member making their way down the stairs that led into the antechamber. Ginny, Luna, and Neville to Susan, Hannah, and Daphne and fully at the back "Fred! What're you doing here?"

"George wanted to come, but someone's got to man the shop," Fred shrugged, holding up his galleon and Hope shot a look to Hermione who grinned back shamelessly. He squeezed her shoulders comfortingly before finding a seat. "Are we rebelling again? Brilliant!"

"It's under debate," she said dryly as everyone got situated, "but this isn't a dictatorship…I'm taking everyone's decisions into account…Hermione and Ron feel it would be a good idea to form a resistance of sorts, like the Order of the Phoenix but more effective."

Fred and Angelina, two who were a part of the Order as well, snorted.

"Hell yeah!" Tracey grinned. "Count me in!"

"Anything to bring the Death Eaters down!" Colin agreed.

And Hope was more stunned that no one seemed against it. "This is dangerous," she half-heartedly tried to discourage them.

"Hope, people have been trying to kill you since you were one and you've never backed down," Ginny pointed out, "why should we?"

"Hear, hear!" Seamus squeezed her hip from where she was sitting on his lap, and the echoing agreement made warmth bloom in Hope's chest as she looked around at them all…all of them willing to follow her into a war that no one could really see the end to.

Now they were really going to need a plan. A plan and codes and contingencies. It was going to be a long day.

Where are you? Hope typed out on her coin and it only took a few seconds to get a response.

Astronomy Tower. Want some company?

The sun was only just starting to set, but of course he was still out. Hope shook her head fondly, excusing herself from debates with Hermione and Ron, citing the need for air.

"Don't you get tired of sketching?" she asked when she came out onto the Astronomy Tower and Dean lifted his head from where it was bent over his sketchbook to spare her a grin.

"What's there to get tired of?" he replied as she came over to plop herself on the edge of the tower, her legs dangling in the free air beside him.

Dean was always so much easier to talk to, more so than even Hermione or Ron or George. Dean…Dean was someone who understood her the best, the one she'd dragged with her into a Muggle tattoo parlour despite his reluctance.

The one who shared her nightmares.

Hope stared out over to the Black Lake and sighed heavily.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked and Hope flicked her eyes over to see what he was sketching. A flock of ravens in sharp relief. "Does it have something to do with…what we planned in the Chamber?"

Hope sighed again. "It's just exhausting."

"What? Being the one to shoulder everyone's burdens?" She gave him a look and he returned one easily. "You can't say I'm not wrong. You've been fighting this battle as long as you've been alive. You've literally complained to me about adults not treating you like you've got that level of experience and shutting you out based on your age."

Hope huffed and her arm started to twinge. She could feel the numbness spreading again and she worried.

"Dean…I'm not doing well," she admitted quietly.

Dean's pencil stilled on the paper and he tucked it away, setting it aside to take her hands in his. There were days that Hope wondered if it would've been better for her if she'd just found a way to hide out at Dean's mother's place and just take the name Thomas and give up being a Potter entirely. But Dumbledore would've never allowed that, she thought bitterly, he would've Obliviated Dean's sweet Muggle mother at the first opportunity and returned her to the Dursleys.

"Is this about why you've been downing Pepper Up Potions by the gallon?" he asked and Hope started in surprise. "Come on, Hope, you're not that subtle."

Hope scowled and looked away.

"You've been sick for a while," Dean continued, "something you don't want to tell Ron and Hermione about…or George."

"I think George might have some idea," Hope muttered. He'd watched her run to the bathroom to vomit far too many times to believe that it was just some random stomach bug. "I don't want everyone to fuss about me."

Dean arched an eyebrow and her mouth twisted unwillingly. "You've never wanted anyone to fuss over you…that's like ninety percent of your personality."

It became a full-on smile that faded slightly. "I think I'm gonna die, Dean."

"In the war?" Dean asked, brow furrowed. "Because we all think that we're gonna—"

"No," Hope said sharply and he paused, "I think I'm gonna die in the next few weeks…I can't explain it." It was like trying to explain the Blood-Soaked Tree to someone outside the pair; impossible. She'd look in the mirror and just ache to scream, like she was her own personal banshee. "It's like this feeling in my gut that won't go away."

Dean was used to her gut feelings. She'd had them about Cedric before the Third Task and hadn't thought about saying anything other than 'be careful out there' and she'd come back with his corpse.

"Is that why you're so reluctant to be in charge of the Resistance?" he asked after letting out a loud breath. "Because you don't think you'll be around?"

"Partially." Hope sighed again. "It's just that it always falls to me. Just once I'd like to be the one that runs off to foreign soil and say 'fuck it, this is on you, you fucked up the country, not me, so it's up to you to deal with the consequences'."

"That's fair," Dean admitted. "But would you really be satisfied with someone else failing to do the job you would've done twice as well?"

Hope's mouth curved upwards and then she leaned forward to hug him tightly. "Thanks, Dean."

"Just being honest, that's all," Dean shrugged and she released him to rub at her leg where the scars were from her car accident when she was ten. "Phantom pains?"

"Among other things," Hope grumbled, rolling up her pantleg. The scar wasn't that big but it was red and puffy. The way her scars gaped had looked a bit concerning to him, like someone had carved bits of her flesh away, but Muggles weren't exactly primitive when it came to medical advancements; Dean knew they knew how to suture wounds shut. "Did I ever tell you about that accident when I was ten?"

She could nearly feel how he froze up beside her. "I didn't think you told anyone about that."

"I didn't." Dean didn't know if it was the moonlight or her metamorphmagi-ness, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes were impossibly black and her hair was nearly white. "Do you want to hear it?"

"If you want to tell it," Dean returned easily and Hope smiled faintly. "I just figured…I mean, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

Hope's mouth twitched a bit more. That was what she loved about Dean. Everything about him was absolutely genuine, he put his whole heart into everything he did, and he didn't have expectations on secret sharing. Ron and Hermione -love them to death- liked to probe and prod, and George could only be patient to a point, but Dean was patience personified.

"I was in the hospital for a while," Hope admitted, "there were some complications and, well—" She gave a mild gesture to her exposed leg.

"My muscle was shredded, which was a bigger problem for the doctors, I think…multiple surgeries and I still needed that brace for two years." Hope sighed loudly. "I wasn't in a really great place…Dudley was the one that pushed me, they were gonna blame me for the bills, no one liked me, and I was in pain, a lot of pain."

Dean couldn't imagine.

"But one person came to see me," Hope's eyes gleamed as she smiled. (Remus had seen her but never entered the room, so she didn't think that he counted) "His name was Nathaniel, he was one of the EMTs that brought me in, and he spent hours with me every day…telling me stories, keeping me distracted…and he would tell me this story about a woman named Magic Spinner."

"Magic Spinner?"

"She was my favorite story," Hope said, almost giddily. It had been thrilling, even at ten, to have someone tell her stories, and, indeed, to want to tell her stories. "She was this witch, back ages ago, very powerful and very dangerous…you know, the kind of person that people made into evil witches in stories because they were afraid."

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"Her name was Adelaide and eventually she attracted the attention of a god, Death, actually. He was enthralled by her, a mortal that could affect life and death…so he revealed himself to her. And she didn't give a damn if he was a god, she was more interested in magic, about what made it work and what he could do with what appeared to be magic but wasn't…after a while they fell in love, never married, but had three children together." Hope's mouth twisted. "It was a tragedy of course; all good stories are."

"Are they?" Dean asked, a bit perturbed.

"You need a good tragedy to remind you why things matter. Death reminds you that you're just footprints in the sand and the waves are rolling in…but if you've done something, if you've meant something to someone, if you've left a legacy behind…that matters."

That was philosophical of her, but Dean had to wonder if she was thinking about her parents or Sirius Black or anyone else she'd lost along the way.

"Nathaniel likes to say that," Hope admitted. "I can't really disagree with him."

Dean gave her a smile. "Does he check up on you?"

"When he can," Hope shrugged, pulling out a clunky flip-phone from her pocket. "He gave me this, so I can call him if I need to…he's great, the kind of person you'd prefer to've been raised by, if you'd been given the option."

It was easy to pick out the bitterness. Dean reached over and squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back, hard, like he was her lifeline.

"Sorry," Hope laughed weakly, "I'm kinda unloading on you."

"It's okay," Dean assured her, "I'm not seeing Daphne until tomorrow morning, I've got the time."

Hope laughed. "Would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Anything," Dean said without any reservation and Hope's smile was blinding.

Professor McGonagall didn't have to try too hard to find Hope, ironically. In fact, she didn't honestly anticipate finding her when she'd taken the steps up to what had once been Albus Dumbledore's office, and it still technically was, but all his elaborate tables had been pushed aside to make room for a motorbike.

Sirius' motorbike.

And there was a girl with her hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head, crouching beside it with tools in hand, grease smeared on her pants and sleeveless shirt.

"Motorbikes can be dangerous," came a grainy voice from what looked like a communicator of some kind, propped on a few books. It was definitely some kind of Muggle electronic…though she had to wonder how it worked around all the magic without going haywire…

"Nathaniel, not for nothing," Hope grated, "but you give me the statistics for every way people can die and then I go and do exactly that to prove you wrong."

There was laughter on the other end. "You're a statistical outlier and I never count you."

"Ouch, that hurts," Professor McGonagall could hear her smile, "are you working or off right now?"

"Off, currently," Nathaniel replied, "but there must be some poor unfortunate soul that needs to be taken to a hospital or a morgue."

"One can always hope." Hope pulled out her wrench and began fiddling.

"What's on your mind, dearest?" The voice on the other end was impossibly warm and paternal and certainly not a tone that Professor McGonagall had heard outside of Sirius or Remus, and this man was certainly neither.

"Lot of death happening right now," Hope muttered.

"There's a lot of death happening all the time, that is the nature of death."

"Funny." Hope rolled her eyes. "I'm just…people have high expectations for me, I'm supposed to be the one to fix everything, even when I wasn't the one to start everything…and if I fail, then that's on me and 'oh well, guess we better give in to a dictatorship'…I'm just really, really tired."

"I know," Nathaniel's voice was sympathetic and Professor McGonagall couldn't help but ache. How many times had Albus said 'Trust Hope' and 'Hope is the key to everything'? And how many times had she said 'no, I'm not your hero'?

"Do you remember back when I was thirteen…do you remember what you told me?"

"Of course, I do," he said easily.

"Were you serious?" Hope asked carefully.

There was a small stint of silence. "I was," he said finally, "if I'd had the opportunity to raise you, I would've taken it, if I'd been allowed."

"Dumbledore," Hope hissed under her breath.

"Mostly," Nathaniel agreed, "but there are still things you need to know, things I need to explain."

Hope stood up to grab the communicator, pressing a button and held it to her ear, turning slightly to scowl at Professor McGonagall, telling the woman that Hope had known she was listening the whole time. "What do you mean?...No, I can definitely meet you…same place in one hour? Kay, bye."

She flipped it shut and tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. "Can I help you, Professor? Or did you learn all you needed to from eavesdropping on me?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Miss Potter—"

Hope ignored her, packing all the tools into the toolbox and Professor McGonagall watched it shrink before her eyes, as did the motorcycle, joining the toolbox in her pocket.

"In light of what has happened," Professor McGonagall continued, "if you should have the need to talk to someone—"

"No," Hope said sharply, cutting her off, "thanks but, I'm fine. I'm been fine with murder since I was eleven and that's not likely to change, especially with authority figures being the ones to put me in those situations to begin with."

Professor McGonagall flinched. "Now, you know that's not—"

"Fair?" Hope arched an eyebrow. "That's your game, Professor, not mine. I have no problem playing with weighted dice if it wins me the game. That was always Dumbledore's problem…so what if you destroy a kid's childhood and raise her to be a martyr for your pure Light cause, as long as she doesn't stray into the Dark then when she wins you'll be vindicated, right?" Hope shook her head with a scoff, pulling her arms through a plaid shirt and doing up a few of the buttons.

Something had changed in her the past year, Professor McGonagall had seen it oh so clearly, none more so than now. There was something sharper and colder behind her eyes now. The green had faded from her eyes, replaced with a black so deep and dark that Professor McGonagall thought she was being looked through right to her soul. She carried herself differently now. She'd always seemed burdened, ever since the end of her fourth year, but now she stood tall, everything rolling off her, like she didn't have anything to lose.

She had the face of a warrior on a suicide mission, one who didn't care how much she broke as long as it helped someone else finish what she started.

Professor McGonagall heaved a heavy sigh, switching topics. "I feel I should tell you that I don't feel it wise to leave the grounds—"

"Tell me all you want," Hope shrugged unconcerned, turning her back on her. "It's a free country, the last time I checked."

And then she was gone and Professor McGonagall sighed heavily once more, eyes flicking towards the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, who Hope had once claimed relation to, but the man appeared to be either actually asleep, or feigning it.

There was a loud knock on the door and George startled in surprise. Very few people ever came to his door when he didn't know about them to start with, and he certainly wasn't expecting any company.

So, he couldn't help but be surprised when he opened the door to see Dean Thomas standing there.

"Dean." His eyebrows rose high. "What're you doing here?"

"Hope asked me to do her a favor," Dean shrugged helplessly.

George couldn't bring himself to be surprised by that. If she didn't go to Ron or Hermione when she needed help, she went to Dean. Those two were ridiculously in sync. But George had also been dating Hope long enough to regard most things that involved her with suspicion. "What kind of favor?"

"She just wanted me to pick up anything that she left here, that's all." Dean gave another small shrug.

"So, she sent you?" George couldn't help but be amused by how awkward Dean looked. But Dean always seemed to feel awkward around George, like he thought George would ever think he was stealing his girl by hanging out with her (which was hysterical on both sides, since Dean had once full-on fainted at the sight of Daphne snarling out insults, and Hope had a tendency to trip over herself every time George sucked hard on Hope's throat).

"Uh, yeah…hi," Dean offered helpfully and George snorted, ushering him inside just to keep him out of the hallway. "She thought people would be keeping too close an eye on her." In reality, Dean knew that Hope had snuck out of Hogwarts earlier, but he knew that she wouldn't be coming near George because, in Hope's words, 'His mum's probably already blabbed and they're staking the place out'. The idea that Hope and George had been living together for a while didn't come as a real surprise to Dean; she'd said so many times how she'd kill to get away from the Dursleys.

George cast an annoyed glance towards the window, shutting the door behind Dean. "Well, you're not wrong…why don't you sit down while I collect all her stuff?"

Dean took a few steps and sank into the nearest couch, looking around with interest. It was so obvious that George didn't live there alone. There were books on ancient runes and ancient magic that Dean knew wasn't George's interest. A small denim jacket was slung on a hook by the door. There was a picture of Hope grinning wildly with George's arms around her as he kissed her cheek, over and over again.

Dean didn't say anything as George moved around, humming softly to himself, tucking all of his girlfriend's things into a bag that never seemed to bulge no matter how much he stuffed into it. Hope, it seemed, had left a lot of things at the flat…like she'd been planning on coming back.

It was funny how Voldemort always seemed to put a kink in her plans.

"Can ask you something?" Dean asked suddenly and George looked up in surprise.

"Sure, kid," he said like Dean and Hope weren't the same age.

"Why was it just Fred that came to the meeting?" Dean couldn't help but ask. "She would've liked to see you…she misses you."

George's smile was so pained as he sat down heavily. "I miss her too…but if Fred knows what's going on and can tell me what I need to know, then that's fine by me…do you know what Legilimency is?"

Dean frowned. "I think I heard her complaining about it once."

George snorted, running a hand through his hair, making the light fleck gold across his eyes, and Dean had a sudden ache to sketch it in his sketchbook. "Its this branch of magic to invade someone's mind and see inside their thoughts. A lot of people in Dumbledore's Order—Hope told you guys about them right?"

"Um, a little," Dean admitted, "she said we're more effective than them."

George smirked. "She's not wrong. Basically, in the first war Dumbledore created this group called the Order of the Phoenix to fight against…Tom." George wrinkled his nose slightly, giving Dean a look. "Since his other name's made up, might as well use his birth one, I guess, but a lot of the people in the original Order of the Phoenix were killed…" He stood up to find a thick book on a shelf, pulling it out and sitting down next to Dean to flip through the pages of pictures, so many of Hope, Ron, and Hermione, and various Weasleys, and Hope and George, as well as a few with Hope and Remus Lupin or Sirius Black, until— "Here it is…the original Order of the Phoenix."

Dean looked with interest.

"Obviously, that's Mad-Eye Moody with Dumbledore," George didn't really need to explain, "but you probably don't know the others that well…Dedalus Diggle, he's still alive, very excitable…Marlene McKinnon, apparently, she and her whole family were killed after this was taken—" Dean's eyes widened in not quite surprise. "Then there's Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville's parents." Dean could see Neville in the kind-faced pair.

"Did they die too?"

George shook his head heavily. "No, they were tortured until their minds broke…they're long term St. Mungo's patients. Alice was Hope's godmother and she still visits her sometimes…but it hurts to pretend to be Lily for her. Its nothing compared to Neville, of course, but…we'd all like a little less misery in our lives, you know?"

Dean nodded his head in understanding.

"…there's Emmeline Vance, she's still here, too, and Remus Lupin, blimey he looks young." Dean couldn't help but laugh. "I don't know the next guy, but I'm pretty sure the Death Eaters got him too…and that guy's Susan's dad, and you know they got her whole family, too." Dean remembered how pale she'd been coming to school that term after her aunt had been killed, her last living relative.

This whole war was making them all into orphans.

"Sturgis Podmore, he just got released from Azkaban, I think, he had the Imperius Curse on him for a while…the guy next to him I've never met so he's probably dead too, Hagrid's still around, obviously, Elphias Doge, I think he's a friend of Dumbledore's, and, um—" George swallowed thickly and Dean looked up. "Gideon and Fabian Prewett, they were my uncles."

"I'm sorry," Dean breathed, suddenly remembering Hope hollering 'George Fabian Weasley!'. "You were named after them?"

"Yeah," George sighed heavily, shaking it off. "Anyways, the lady next to them apparently Tom had to kill personally…and then there's Sirius Black and Hope's parents."

Dean didn't think he'd ever seen a picture of James and Lily Potter before, just people always remarking on how much Hope looked like Lily. Hope did look a great deal like her mother, long rich red hair, her fair complexion and green eyes, but he was surprised to see that James actually had a bit of color to his skin. Not much, but the olive tone was there.

Hope might not've inherited her father's coloring, but that was definitely his smile.

"Where was I?" George had gotten really off his topic. "Oh yeah, a lot of the Order know how to read minds and they're going to assume I know things when I don't, so its just better for everyone if I know as little as possible."

Dean narrowed his eyes suddenly. "Was that Ron's idea?"

George laughed. "Little brother's the man with the plan. He's the strategist in the family and I trust his judgement."

"Didn't your mother sell you and Hope out to the Order?" Dean pointed out with an arched eyebrow.

"Like I said," George said with sharp eyes, "I trust his judgement."

He shut the book of pictures and shoved it into the bag, holding it out to Dean. "Give her my love, yeah?"

"Sure," Dean took the bag from George, feeling a bit off kilter. "Um, I was just…I…" His words failed him and he fell silent, frustrated.

George, ever the big brother, seemed to pick up on his level of stress, and he wound his arms around Dean, letting Dean do the same. "You're doing very well," George assured, "its okay to struggle, we've all felt like that…Hope probably feels like that all the time."

Talking to George felt like talking to his mum, full of warmth and understanding. Sometimes it was hard to equate George Weasley with that feeling when some of his pranks had been so vindictive during school…but George had always been the softer of the twins, always looking to see what Hope thought of what they were doing.

Dean parted from him, wiping his face quickly. "Thanks, George."

George smiled. "See you around, Dean. Stay safe."

And Dean would certainly try his best, but with war on the horizon, he couldn't help but feel unease.

But the future wasn't set in stone and there was no way the Resistance would be doing anything less than standing tall amidst the carnage and chaos that would be arriving soon.

AN: The Resistance is going to be very central to the plot, the Horcruxes are important, but there's a lot of stuff going on that's important. Honestly, you guys are probably going to see a lot of Hope using Muggle means in this war…partially because I like the irony of Hope killing some DEs with Muggle weapons and also for another reason that will come up later.

As always: Please review!