It was mid January and Harry had been officially working with Hermione for around two weeks. Two weeks was not a long period of time, however, it was long enough for Harry to realize that Hermione's mother had not exaggerated a bit when she said Hermione took her education seriously. The young girl's mind was a sponge, soaking in everything Harry had to tell her and every bit of knowledge she could glean from the books he provided her with-not that everything had gone smoothly so far. Her practical ability was not quite up to measure with her analytical skills. More than once Harry had had to put something out that Hermione had accidentally set on fire. Although there had been some bumps in the road, Harry had been rather impressed with himself for not losing his patience. He was sure it had something to do with the fact that it was Hermione he was working with, and the fact that he found her attractive and enjoyable to be around.

It was a Saturday and Harry and Hermione were practicing some simple dueling techniques at Stokesay Castle while Vera flew around a safe distance off the ground on her broomstick. Harry had made sure he spent some extra time with his sister as he knew she felt somewhat left out with all of the time he was working with Hermione. He had not only taken her flying as he had promised originally, but made sure to do it at least twice a week. His parents were not aware however, that he allowed her to fly around on her own. He was pretty sure they thought he flew side by side with her, practically holding her hand at all times to make sure she did not fall off. They had never seen her fly as Harry had though, and if they did, they would realize that she was extremely talented at it for her age.

He glanced at his sister for a second as she fearlessly pulled off loop before he turned his attention back to his trainee. "Alright Hermione," Harry instructed, "I want you to try disarming me. Remember what we talked about yesterday. First, focus on your target. Second, give a clear pronunciation of the spell and make sure you have the intent in your mind for what you want the spell to do. And what's the final part?"

"Keep my wand straight and on my target so that the spell is accurate," Hermione answered with little hesitancy. She got into a balanced stance, looked squarely at Harry, almost glaring at him with such extreme focus. She lifted her wand, shouted out the incantation and made sure the spell shot straight at Harry's chest.

Harry was not going to try and block the spell, so he let it hit him dead on. As it impacted his body he staggered backwards a step onto his heels and felt the wand plucked from the grip of his fingers. It flew into the air for few seconds, but landed just a few feet away from where he was standing. He walked over to grab his wand and looked over again at Hermione who was clearly waiting for some kind of feedback on her performance.

"That was really good work," Harry commended. "For the most part, when you use Expelliarmus, you want the wand to stay lofted in the air and come back towards you so you can catch. It just requires a little more concentration."

Hermione nodded, listening to his critique. "So that was good for a first try?"

"Definitely. Even though my wand didn't go very far, it was still enough to take it out of my hand and have to retrieve it. If that were to happen in a real fight, it would distract your opponent for enough time that you could get another spell off that they couldn't shield themselves against. It was excellent for a first try."

Hermione beamed at him excitedly. "Can we try it again?"

"Of course."

The two spent another half an hour focused solely on the disarming spell. Each time Hermione repeated the process she made a little more progress until the very last time she only had to move inwards a few feet to catch Harry's dislodged wand. Vera had come down from the air by then and had taken to cheering for Hermione from the side as she watched. Harry had decided it was good note to end on so he conjured up a fire to sit around and get warm. He pulled out a thick blanket he had brought with him and placed it on the ground so they would not have to sit on the frigid earth. Harry took a seat first and Vera and Hermione took a seat on either side of him.

"Harry, are there normally so many people up on the towers guarding the castle? I don't think I've seen this many since I've been here," Hermione questioned. She was staring up at the main tower and front entrance to the castle where there were at least twenty wizards standing as sentinels.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "No not usually. From what I could gather, some of our spies have been reporting back about increased activity by Dumbledore's soldiers. They've been spreading out and covering more ground then they normally do. Nobody's really sure what it means, but we're taking extra precautions just in case."

"You don't think they're looking for us do you?" Vera asked with a shake to her voice.

Harry stretched out an arm and placed it across her shoulder. "I don't know V, maybe. There's really no way to tell. If they're looking for us or have any clue where we are, I doubt they would come out and announce it, Dumbledore's too smart for that. He'd know we would have some way of getting a warning."

"Plus," Hermione started, "Even if they did know something, we all aren't in one place. The chances are much lower that they would know something about all of the castles."

"Right," Harry agreed. "We have plans for if something were to happen. If one of the castles is attacked, we hold them off until we can evacuate, go to another castle and destroy the floo connection so there isn't a trace." Harry tried not to look too concerned, but he knew those sort of contingency plans usually never worked out as wanted. The truth was, at some point in each and every day he thought about being found. He didn't worry about himself, but simply the people he cared about being hurt. They could hide away for years and years, but Harry knew one day something bad would happen. He just hoped he was prepared for it when it did.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Later that night, Harry sat at his kitchen table drinking a cup of tea by himself-well he wasn't actually drinking the tea he was floating the cup through the air using just his hand. He was trying to move away from the simple magical parlor tricks onto more substantial tasks with his wandless abilities. He was on his third different teacup as he had already broken the first two on only semi-successful attempts. Unfortunately he destroyed his current cup as well when someone clearing their throat behind them caused him to break his concentration. Harry huffed loudly as the cup cracked into pieces on the floor. He turned around and glared at his father who just stared back at his son.

"You couldn't have waited until the cup was not floating in the air could you? I've already got to fix two other cups that have broken before Mum finds sees them."

James walked over and plopped down into the seat directly across from him. "It wouldn't have happened at all if you weren't so damn stubborn and just used your wand."

"Hey, you just saw I had the thing floating. I'm really making progress!" Harry argued.

"Look, you're really good with magic Harry, but wandless magic is just something that even the most powerful wizards and witches never master. I've no doubt that you can pull it off to some small degree, but it is not something you want to come to rely on. I don't want you going into a fight overconfident and thinking you can always do it on command. One little mistake can cost you your life in a fight, and it just isn't worth it son."

Harry just shook his head at his father's attitude and let the subject drop. James gave him a pointed look, but let it drop as well. "Where are my two favorite girls at?" James asked.

"Vera tired herself out flying earlier so she went to bed. Mum is giving all of the Grangers some potions lessons I think."

"Why aren't you giving her potions lessons? I thought that fell under your purview as her instructor," James asserted.

"I absolutely refuse to teach potions to anyone," Harry exclaimed. "Mum is excellent at it and I'm certainly not, so it will be better for Hermione in the long run to do it this way. Plus she gets to spend some time with her parents." If there was one thing that he absolutely despised learning about, it was potions. He had studied enough about them to satisfy his mother, but they just were not engaging enough for him. Sitting in one place for hours and hours, inhaling fumes was not how he liked to spend his time. Not that he didn't appreciate potion making to a point, he had taken enough of them to heal various ailments to have a respect for them.

"That is true," James conceded. "It's also nice that her parents have some medical training in their background so they can stay busy helping out. I mean, there are other muggle family members in the castle, but they've all been exposed to this world for awhile now. It's a big adjustment for them to have to make in a short period of time."

"I think they've both been pretty good with handling everything," Harry commented. "Mrs. Granger is really sweet, but I think Mr. Granger may be out for my blood. If looks could kill, I'd be dead many times over. He thinks I'm going to corrupt his daughter."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?" Harry asked momentarily confused.

"Trying to corrupt her," James answered with a grin.

"Maybe," Harry responded with a grin of his own. "She is a breath of fresh air in this place that's for sure." Harry suddenly got serious again. "So where have you been all day?"

"Talking with Remus for most of it. He was still in pretty bad shape from the full moon the other night. He's been keeping tabs on some of the more prominent werewolf packs around Europe. Someone found him snooping and roughed him up a bit."

"Is he alright?" Harry asked concerned. He rarely ever got to see his father's other best friend. Remus was very much a recluse compared to Sirius, but was always willing to volunteer whatever he could to do to help the cause. Harry hated that he sequestered himself away just because he was concerned about other peoples' fears of him.

"Yes, just a few bumps and bruises. Although you know Mooney, he'd never admit to it if it was worse. What's more concerning is that Remus told me that there have been an increase of mainland werewolves coming to England. Word has it that Dumbledore has been enticing them with promises of large settlements just for their kind."

"They're fools if they actually believe he'll follow through on any of that. The blood purists hate half-breeds almost as much as muggles."

"It's worked in the past though, unfortunately," James informed him. "It's likely they've been given an open license to hunt any stragglers on the new Minister's list of disfavored people."

"Well, we've known from the beginning we would have to deal with them at some point. They were never going to join our resistance," Harry reasoned.

"It could be worse, you know. At least we only have to worry about them once a month."

Harry chuckled darkly. "Wonderful, we only have to worry ourselves over hordes of rabid beasts looking to gouge our throats and tear apart our limbs once a month. Excuse me if I'm not exactly comforted by that fact." As soon as Harry finished speaking his father adopted a thoughtful expression and suddenly stood and disappeared out of the room. Harry was a little concerned that he had said something to upset him, but only a few minutes later, James returned holding something wrapped in a thin piece of black cloth. Sitting back down, James pulled the cloth away to reveal a short, ornately decorated dagger.

"The blade on this dagger is embedded with pure silver," he explained. "When we were in school and became friends with Remus he was always afraid that he would hurt someone with his condition. It was always his worst nightmare that he would lose complete control or that he would overpower Sirius or I. One year he gave us all these daggers in case anything were to go completely to pieces."

"Hold on, so he gave you the daggers in case you ever needed to kill him?"

"Yes," James replied.

"I would say that's completely unbelievable and terribly morbid, but that does actually sound like something that Remus would do."

"It does, and we weren't exactly thrilled to take them, but it appeased Remus. Anyway, I thought it would be a good idea if you held onto it. You never know when you might find a need for it. It also gives me some peace of mind to know you have it."

Harry grabbed the knife from his father and was lost in admiration of both its craftsmanship and nefarious purpose. He took the cast aside cloth that his father had left on the table and wrapped the dagger again carefully, placing it down in front of him. Hopefully he would never need it, but he severely doubted it.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention," James started, "Moody is coming by tomorrow to put you through your paces. Told me he didn't want you unpracticed."

"Sounds like fun," Harry scoffed. "Guess I better go get some rest, Moody always exhausts the hell out of me."

XxXxXxXxXxXx

The next morning, just around dawn, Harry and Hermione were walking the grounds of Stokesay once again, this time waiting for Moody to show up and begin his training-or cruel form of punishment as Harry sometimes liked to refer to it. He had told Hermione it wasn't necessary for her to come, but she, being her inquisitive self, had requested to enthusiastically. She carried with her a notebook and another large book on transfiguration that she was in the middle of digesting. Currently she was in the process of bouncing various questions off of him.

"So, I guess what I'm getting from my reading is that the thing that is being changed in the transfiguration process doesn't really change. Well, it does, but it doesn't. How exactly does that work?"

Harry considered her question for a few seconds before formulating an answer that would hopefully be comprehensible. "Yes, your right, the object you want to change is being changed but, only in appearance really. It's useable as whatever you choose to change it into, but only temporarily. Underneath the illusion that the magic creates is still the original object that you changed. It's really one of the most difficult branches of magic and we haven't even begun discussing the changing of living beings. Have you had any more luck changing the needle into a quill?"

"A little bit," Hermione responded. "It's not all the way there yet, but I've been able to make it longer and it certainly looked less metallic."

"That's progress then. Soon enough you'll get a feel for the change and it will make it easier to do larger objects. You're doing really well so far Hermione. I'm really proud of how much you've picked up in such a short time."

Hermione blushed at the praise. "Thank you Harry. It helps to have a good teacher."

This time it was Harry's cheeks that reddened slightly. "Don't give me too much credit, you're the one putting in the time. Anyway, I wanted to ask you how you were handling everything so far. I know we've been so busy teaching you magic, but I hope you haven't been completely overwhelmed by everything."

"Not overwhelmed, not really" Hermione explained as she took a seat on a wooden bench. "I guess I'm still trapped in this bubble of amazement that I'm a witch. Spending your whole life as a normal, ordinary girl and then being told you can do things that were only ever real in childhood fairy tales is something I'm still dealing with. Then there's also the fact that someone tried to kill me and probably would still like to see me dead."

Harry waked over and seated himself next to her on the bench. "They may want you dead Hermione, but they failed on the first try and they'll fail on every other try as well as long as I'm still here." Harry was pleasantly surprised when she reached over and grabbed hold of his left hand, giving a firm squeeze. He couldn't help but stare into her eyes which looked right back into his own. "As much as I want you to stay here, I don't want you to feel like this is your only option. There are schools for magic elsewhere in the world Hermione, you need to make the decision on what's best for you and your family. Nobody would think the less of you if you decided to go. I wouldn't think less of you."

Hermione looked away into the distance, her loose hair blowing in the slight wind of the morning. She stayed that way for a minute before turning back towards him. "Why do you stay Harry?" she asked almost desperately. "You all have a way out, why not just leave as well? They outnumber us by so many, how do we have any hope of winning against such a force?"

Now it was Harry's turn to look away from the emotional young woman. What was he supposed to say to her? He had known her such a short time, there was no way he was ready to lay out his burden that was the prophecy in front of her. He wanted to, he could feel the words trying to roll off of his tongue, but with a heroic effort he held them back. "We have to stay Hermione. There are things that I just can't tell you yet, but it goes beyond that. Dumbledore can't just take away everyone's home, he can't exile the people he doesn't think are worthy of being in his presence. Every artifact, every old spell book, Hogwarts itself belongs to and is a part of every single person who has magic running through their veins. Blood status is meaningless, but we've all decided its worth shedding our own in order take back what we've already lost."

Hermione looked at Harry, and he could tell she was impressed with his speech. "I have the same magic running through my veins that you do Harry, so I guess all those things that belong to you belong to me as well. I can't leave now." She reached out and brought her arms around Harry's neck, embracing him tightly, as if she had no plan to let go. However, just as Harry was beginning to enjoy this new contact, a gruff voice forced them to part.

"This is all so ruddy sweet Potter, but we're here to train your arse, not bloody hug. Grab your wand and prepare to defend yourself before I turn you into a duck." Knowing that Moody wasn't joking by any means, Harry looked back at Hermione and released his grip on her arms reluctantly. He way going to say something to her, however, the cutting curse that Moody sent aimed at his back forced him to forestall the conversation for another time, preferably without the presence of the old auror.