XXxxXX

Oxford, England

The winter air prickled on Harry's skin as he stared at Neville. The ground around them was warm, and covered in water. The raven haired boy took a relaxed stance, while his best friend adopted a low an aggressive posture. A cobalt mist wrapped itself around his arm, the air began to crackle and shimmer. Without a moment's warning, he threw a salvo of punches, unleashing lances of powerful energy.

Neville quickly threw his arms up and sent counter energy waves, swatting aside Harry's attack. The bolts of energy splashed onto the snow, boiling it away and burning the grass. Propelling themselves with refined energy, the two Exemplars roared towards each other, leaving wisps of plasma in their wake. Within arm's length, they engaged in a terrifying melee. Each punch, each kick, each movement, powerful energy emanated. They were like a blur of blue light and shimmering air.

Harry launched a punch; his fist was engulfed in flame as it collided into Neville's defence. The air exploded upon each contact. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, their senses were in a heightened state, both could see the shimmering air from the shockwaves of their powerful bouts.

As Neville threw a wild punch, Harry ducked low, letting Neville's fist sail over his shoulder. Moving on the tempo of his advantage, Harry ploughed forward, his shoulder slammed into his opponent's chest. Neville's protective shield flared as it absorbed the impact, but it wasn't enough. Neville felt the g-forces as he was lifted off from the ground, and dumped onto the grass. Water splashed onto Neville's Exemplar Combat Fatigues, he silently thanked the brain's trust at NASA for developing water resistant fibres, as the liquid cascaded off his clothing.

"Yield?" Harry heaved, but maintaining an execution stance of Neville.

"Yield," Neville said, raising his hands.

"Excellent work chaps," Sirius's voice came over the intercom, "you didn't break any of my gear this time."

"We try," Neville said, with a mock smug.

When it came to collecting results, Sirius was impeccable. He had set up every data collecting device available to him, to record the entire spar.

Harry and Neville quickly jogged up into the "treehouse" that overlooked the sparring ring. In reality, the building was an elevated observation post, reinforced with steel concrete, and lots of coolant to protect it from any wide attacks. As the two climbed the spiral staircase, they began to feel the effects of the cold. Opening the doors, they were greeted by warm air.

"Blood Orange soda if you want them," he gestured to the bench, "might want to drink them before fatigue sets in."

"Thanks, Sirius," the two both said.

Inside where a number of comfy looking chairs, gazing out the vast window. There was an array of power projectors which displayed the recorded data onto the walls. And of course, in the centre of the room, was a bar. Harry quickly sliced a couple of lime wedges, placed them in two glasses, and poured the red-orange liquid into them.

"Cheers," Neville said joyful as picked up the glass and took a sip.

"Cheers," Harry said, raising his glass.

The two quickly down the contents, and winced in pain as the bubbly liquid burned their upper nasal passage.

"Ugh, why do we always do that?" Neville asked, shaking his head.

Harry topped up both glasses, and decided to savour the flavour this time round.

"Tradition I guess," he shrugged.

"Well, that's a pretty stupid tradition."

"Yet, you still join in," Harry chuckled.

Walking over to Sirius, they watched as he mulled over the information.

"Splendid, isn't it?" Sirius said, combing through the energy readings. "Nice to see you to have been applying your physics lessons."

The Exemplar Order had always believed in the concept of modularity greatly, which meant that they were staunch advocates of independence and free will, all working in perfect harmony for a greater goal. It was because of their beliefs, that the EMA's curriculum taught wandless and wordless magic, combined with ancient Oriental combat arts. Each student is capable of manipulating gases and liquids via energy and electromagnetic pulses they emitted. Science broaden the horizons in terms of creativity for these arts, as more experienced students were capable of generating electromagnetic fields, which they use to propel iron slugs at terrifying speeds. But the most impressive ability from these arts was being able to generate hard-light. Students could instantly summon protective barriers or deadly offensive weapons.

Movement wasn't necessarily required to perform these feats, but it certainly did enhance them to extreme levels. That being said, Exemplars are far from gods. They still had to rely on a tool to channel their arts with greater precision and effectiveness. The mainstay of the Exemplars' arsenal, is the Superior Adaptive Battle Equipment, or dubbed as the "sabre". Capable of reforming itself into just about anything, Exemplars use the sabres to engage opponents at range, or savage melees.

Walking over to a locker, Harry and Neville pried the doors open and pulled out their armour, which was composed of a titanium alloy. Sabres are extremely difficult to make because of their very unique properties, it was a make or break sought of process. Either it was a sabre or not. The odds of creating a sabre were one out of ten. Hence, all the failed sabres are simply titanium rods, and successful sabres were ME-titanium, magically enchanted to be extremely resistant.

"Modern or feudal?" Neville asked, referring to what modifications he should make to his armour.

Harry turned to Sirius.

"I want look into melee combat," Harry's godfather said.

"Feudal," Harry replied to Neville.

Neville smiled. The default form of the Nomad Combat Armour, was "modern" per say. It looked similar to the combat gear used be elite light infantry and Tier 1 forces around the world. It was seamless, sleek and sported a black and grey livery. But with the mimicry cloak, it could look like just about anything the user desired. Of course the desired form had to be within bounds that were physically possible.

Wrapping the cloak around themselves, the so called cloth began to harden and split into seams, hovering around the two boys before reattaching to create the fearsome image of an ancient Exemplar Vanguard. Because of the boys' tremendous stature, they mimicked the Vanguards' battlefield aura; to inspire allies and to put fear into the hearts of enemies.

"Don't strain yourselves, gents," Sirius warned.

"We know our limits," Harry reassured.

Leaving the observation post, Harry and Neville returned to the sparring ring again. The ground squelched as it shouldered the weight of the two Exemplars.

As Harry focused his powers onto his sabre, the rod began to split into seams, disassembling itself like a puzzle, and formed into a spear. Tendrils of cobalt energy wrapped and twirled around the shaft, and condensed at the spearhead, forming a superdense plasma blade.

Neville on the other hand, split his sabre into two components, and willed them into becoming longwswords. Like the spearhead, plasma collected at the blades.

Taking up their stances, forks of electricity danced across the beautifully adorned silver armour, while wisps of ionised air curled up from the glowing slits of their helmets.

Inside the bunker, Sirius keyed in commands into his console, swinging the camera's around. The level of power that the Exemplar's emanated was astronomical. The air shimmered around them, while the snow melted. Air pressure shifted, radio waves were disrupted and an intense amount of infra-red light was given off, and the spar had barely even begun yet.

The two analysed each other, took a deep breath, and charged. Building up momentum and pressure, they released their energy in a violent burst, propelling them forward and breaking past the sound barrier. The boom of the breach rolled across Sirius's estate, but was quickly absorbed by the wards and charms he had placed.

Neville and Harry collided in the centre of the ring, sending out another violent shockwave. Focusing all their energy and concentration into their protective barriers, the two could withstand immense punishment unscathed; hence they used this ability to turn themselves into wrecking balls. But the moment they diverted their attention (which was in combat), their resilience decreased dramatically.

The moment Harry opened with his attack; Neville had to drop his barrier in order to deflect the attack. Plasma is extremely effective for weathering away the protective field, and although he could throw up a hard-light barrier, it would require too much concentration and energy over a prolonged period.

Detaching their concentration from defence and onto combat, the mist that surrounded their bodies was significantly less dense, and the armour decorations became more definable.

Sparking, the plasma blades crackled as they collided. Harry kept his opponent at bay with rapid jabs and swinging attacks. Neville, being forced on the defensive, jumped further back, before propelling himself forward again.

Harry barely managed to throw himself out of his friend's path; they missed each other by the barest minimum. Swinging his spear around, Harry had channelled his energy into the attack, and sent out a savage shockwave. But Neville had already seen this attack coming, and countered with a pulse of his own. Harry's attack cascaded past Neville before slamming into the surrounding mounds.

Capitalising on the advantage, Neville rushed forward, cape billowing behind him. Harry quickly swept low, but Neville easily vaulted over the attack, and raised his blades for a strike. Bringing his spear round, Harry managed to swat Neville away, flinging him into the side of the ring. But Neville was unfazed, and landed gracefully by using pulses to stabilise him.

"Neat," Harry complimented.

"I learn from the best," Neville said.

"That's sweet."

"I wasn't referring to you," Neville deadpanned.

"Oh," Harry pouted.

Regaining their posture once more, Harry changed his sabre into a sword-spear, basically, increasing the blade and decreasing the shaft.

The two attacked each other again, brilliant arcs of energy trailed in their wake as the fought with great speed and precision. As Harry swung his weapon in for "killing" blow, Neville quickly retreated, whilst raising his two blades. The force behind Harry's attack instantly ripped the swords out of Neville's hands, allowing an massive opening.

Energy thickened at Harry's spearhead as he thrust the weapon towards Neville's chest. As quickly as possible, the once clumsy boy raised his arms and threw up a hard-light barrier, stunting Harry's attack. Pushing the barrier forward with all his might, Harry was tossed far back, allowing Neville to recover.

XXxxXX

Hogwarts, Room of Requirement

Sweat beaded down Hermione's shapely body as she ran across the training course. I brilliant mind, requires a brilliant body. Of course, few would know of her physical prowess as she did not play Quidditch – due to her fear of flying – and the fact that the school robes left much to the imagination.

Although her thirst for knowledge put Ravenclaw to shame, Hermione had to wonder why she wasn't put into the aforementioned house in the first place. The Sorting Hat clearly stated that the person's greatest trait, defined which house they would be allotted to. Hermione really doubted that her courage, chivalry and bravery outshone her value of knowledge.

Sure, she found out that Professor Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort, and fought an inch for her life against him. But that was it, she killed a Professor, that wasn't an act of bravery, it was an act of desperation.

Stuffing her thoughts away, it was nearly time for dinner. Hermione removed her sweat soaked clothing, downed a bottle of water, and hit the showers. She let the hot water cascade down her back for five minutes before bothering to lather and tend to her hair. Once she was content with the small luxury, Hermione turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around her body, and gazed into the mirror.

Her brunette hair was no longer a bushy mane, but was tamer, slightly curly and a bit bouncy. Her features had become more defined and symbolised her transition into womanhood. She examined herself for a brief moment, and concluded that she was no longer that ugly bossy know-it-all with bucktooth and a bushy mane, but rather a striking brunette who's a bossy know-it-all.

Laughing at her little inside joke, Hermione pulled on some casual cloths and descended down into the Great Hall.

The number of staff and students remaining at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays was quite low, as always. As Hermione made her way to her seat at the Gryffindor table, Katie Bell waved her over, and presented her an article of the Daily Prophet.

"What is it Katie?" Hermione sighed as she sat down, noticing the auburn's excitement.

"Read the article."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "it's a subjective tabloid. You know I don't read this type of thing."

"Oh just read it," Bell pouted, handing over the paper.

The brunette's eyes scrolled over the paper.

-The Daily Prophet

Malfoy family, where are they now?

By Denise Richards

Many of us would know the Malfoy family, one of the longest standing pureblood families, in the magical world. But could this noble family come to an end?

Hermione frowned, noble my arse, she thought. The Malfoy family was one of the cruellest and bigoted in existence.

Many years ago, Narcissia Malfoy (née Black) divorced Lucius Malfoy, and left her son behind, to take up a hedonist lifestyle.-

The brunette sighed; she had heard this story so many times before. Narcissia divorces Lucius, takes bake her maiden name, then goes out to have fun and enjoy life. Since then, her involvement in the magical world had been to the barest minimum.

"Malfoy family, big whoop," Hermione sighed, "these people must really be running out of news if this is on the front page."

"That's not the front page," Katie interjected as she flipped over the paper.

Hermione raised her eyebrow in slight annoyance, before returning her attention back down to the article.

-The Daily Prophet

The-Boy-Who-Lived and disappeared

By Rita Skeeter-

The article was basically about how Harry Potter was always under the radar and rarely in the limelight; in fact, no one really knew what he looked like at all. Which of course, lead to speculation and estimations on what he would look like today.

Hermione shook her head and laughed to herself as she saw the sketches. Most of them had drawn him with impossibly good looks, auburn hair, blue eyes, chiselled jaw and a thunderbolt scar on his forehead. Hell, the sketches made him look too good that it was disgusting.

"Isn't he dreamy?" Katie asked.

Suddenly, Hermione felt the urge to slap her own forehead. "They're just drawings, what makes you think that they're accurate?"

"Still dreamy," Katie reasoned.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She found the number of the Daily Prophet's fan base to be very disturbing. It was as if the people of the wizarding world were in a dark communication age, or a stunted intellectual and cultural evolution. This was one of those things that made the brunette miss the muggle world.

"Well enjoy the sketches, I'm going to eat," Hermione said, grabbing a plate of toast, "while I still can."

Katie took a sip of her pumpkin juice before asking Hermione another question, "Yule Ball, are you going?"

Hermione shook her head, "don't have a date," she said casually.

"Why don't we get you one? I'm sure Ginny would also love to help out."

"No! Not Ginny!" Hermione sputtered, "besides, I'm perfectly fine reading in Gryffindor tower."

A small smile began to spread on Katie's face.

"What?" Hermione sighed, the only time when her friend smiled or smirked the way she did, was when she cooked up some over the top speculation… which were generally true.

"It seems you already have a crush back home."

"Serious?" Hermione tried to keep a calm demeanour.

"Think about it, you don't want to go, because it'll feel like you're betraying the trust of someone back home."

"How do you do that?" the brunette asked.

"Ha! I knew it!" Katie smirked triumphantly.

Hermione buried her face into her palms and swore inwardly. She was never going to hear the end of this.

XXxxXX

Oxford, England

Harry and Neville leaned back into the sofas in the living room, heaving as they regained their bearings.

"Well, went all out, any bruises?" Harry asked.

Neville started snickering. Then Harry realised why, his question was laced with innuendos.

"Dammit," Harry sighed.

"Hey, your mind is just as dirty as mine if you picked that up," Neville laughed.

"No you," Harry retorted, "you were the first to think about it."

Neville took a sip of his drink, and did the best impression he could, of a troll-face.

"You've been hanging out with Anton and Bryce again, haven't you?"

Neville nodded as he raised his glass.

"Well, enjoy your drink, I'm going to have a shower, then we're heading out."

"Where are we going?"

"Christmas shopping," Harry answered.

"Wondrous joy," Neville said sarcastically.

"I think I preferred it when you were passive and kind," said Harry.

"That was a euphuism," Neville stated as if it was fact, "this is the real me."

After cleaning up and putting on some suitable cloths for the winter day, Harry, Neville and Sirius left for the mall. Upon arriving at the bustling shopping centre, a thought occurred to Neville.

"You know, you look like the Professor," he said.

"Who now?" Harry asked.

"Bourne?" Neville said, kick-starting his friend's memory.

"Oh, the Professor," said Harry, catching on, "really?"

It wasn't that hard to miss, the similarities were quite clear to see. Harry was wearing his usual rectangular glasses, brown coat, black pants, black dress shoes, grey shirt and black gloves.

"Yeah," Neville answered, "dibs Bourne."

Harry bowed his head, "why do you want to be the guy that kills me?"

"Because you kicked my arse in sparring," Neville pouted, "it's only fair"

Sirius laughed. "Calm down children, let's get the presents and bail before the mob arrives."

"Okay," Harry said, "let's split, and meet back here in three hours."

"Three hours?" Neville and Sirius said incredulously.

"Why? What's wrong with three hours?" Harry asked.

"Harry my dear boy," Black began, "we are men, we don't take that long to find presents."

"I find that sexist, and I'm against double standards," Harry rebutted.

"Hmm, put it this way," Sirius said, trying a different approach, "how many presents do you possible need?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out on postage day," Harry said.

"Alright, let's get this over and done with," Neville sighed.

XXxxXX

A/N: What does the Vanguard's armour look like? Refer to a cross between the Teutonic Knights, Chaos Warriors, Swan Knights of Gondor, and Gondor Citadel/Fountain Guards.