"So, did you have fun with Cho?" asked Etna at dinner.

Harry glared at Etna, while failing to notice Ginny glare at Harry. Etna just smirked.

"Having Cho cry onto my shoulder for an hour and a half is not my definition of fun," replied Harry.

"Pretty girl crying on your shoulder a bad thing?" asked Etna.

"If the pretty girl is someone I'm not even sure I like at this point, yes," said Harry. "And what's it to you?"

"I checked in on you when you didn't make it to lunch," said Etna.

"So were you there for the part when she finished crying, and then we argued over whether or not I had any right to female friends?"

"No, but I can distinctly imagine it. Her tear-fueled jealousy, your thick-headed stupidity, both combining to make things worse and worse and worse. I'm sure it was as magical as a train wreck," said Etna with a smile.

"In the end, she claimed I was snogging Hermione and Ginny and shagging you," growled Harry, failing to notice the blush on both Hermione and Ginny, but for entirely different reasons. "I said she was bloody insane if I was going to be anywhere near you naked."

"And Minnie claims I'm a corrupting influence," said Etna. "What about Hermione and Ginny?"

Harry glared back at her.

"Inquiring minds want to know, Harry," added Etna.

"Hermione's my sister at this point."

"And Ginny?"

Harry needed time to think, so he bite into his sandwich. He glanced at Ginny, sitting across from him next to Hermione, and she looked down at her plate, blushing. He had to think about this. What about Ginny? What could he say? He had rescued Ginny, and she was really nice and everything, but she was Ron's sister. What could he do?

"Well, Harry? What do you think of Ginny?" asked Etna. Her grin allowed her fangs to show through.

He knew, intellectually, anyone he was with was a target for Voldemort. Etna had beaten, drilled, and pounded that into his head when she convinced him to allow Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to train with him. Having a girlfriend would just paint an even larger target on her.

Unless she can take care of herself, nagged a little voice as Etna leered at him, smile growing ever wider. Harry swore her fangs were getting longer, too.

Ginny was fighting just as hard as he was, he recalled, and while she wasn't anywhere near his level, Etna was, in her own twisted and insulting way, impressed with her. Ginny'd already started using direct transfiguration while fighting Etna, starting with birds and cats to annoy Etna and let Harry land more curses. She was even starting to perform some of Etna's simpler conjurations, small tongues of flame and spears of ice. And, Harry had to admit, watching Etna stomp on a dozen or so rats was therapeutic where Wormtail was concerned. And she was nice, and she wasn't bad looking, either…

"I think I might be interested," said Harry, slowly. He glanced at Ginny. She looked up at him, smiling.

"I'll leave you lot alone, eh?" said Etna, her work done.

"Did you mean that?" asked Ginny, taking Harry aside after dinner, and leading him down one of the halls.

"What? About being er- interested?"

Ginny nodded.

"Er- yeah, I did mean it. I'd be interested."

"Why?" asked Ginny.

"You- You know me as Harry. I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived to you-"

"Not anymore, at least."

"Yeah, not anymore," said Harry with a chuckle, remembering Ginny in his first year. "And a lot of the others look at me like I'm some sort of conquest or something, like they'll be able to say 'Hey, I dated the Boy-Who-Lived.' Except I don't want any of it. I wish I never had this ruddy scar, never had to deal with any of it. I just wish I was normal. And you, Ron, and Hermione treat me like normal. I like that."

"So I'm second best?"

"Second best to who?" asked Harry.

"Hermione."

"What? No. I meant what I said about her. She's my bossy older sister. It'd… it'd be downright weird to date her. And I think that's why Ron's avoiding her, right now. He probably thinks its as weird as I do."

"What about Cho?"

"Cho's mental . I mean, I feel bad for her and everything, but… dating her? I don't think she should be dating anyone right now, let alone me . She needs… she needs friends, not some berk to cry on."

"When did you get so smart?"

"Etna's been beating lessons into me. I've got the scars and bruises to prove it, too."

Time passed slowly in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

Ginny and Harry quickly became the source of their own rumor mill. Given how often they disappeared (even from the Twins, who were said to be able to find anybody ), legends were already spreading on how many broom closets they'd visited.

Etna, while loud, obnoxious, and abrasive, was quickly becoming a fixture of her new house, given her knowledge of Charms and DADA material, and how friendly she could be when she felt like it. Very few boys or girls spoke of the other lessons she gave, but there were rumors and legends already spread about her other talents as well.

The Senior Auror in charge of DADA had been changed, the first one having a nervous breakdown at the lack of ability in her students, and her own inability to deal with it. Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken her place, and was having fewer headaches, now that his students could at least cast the shield charm, a stunner, and a disarmer.

"Mister Potter, can you stay after?"

Harry nodded, sending Ron on ahead. It was Ron's turn to stay with Harry, and Hermione had already rather quickly left. Ron and Hermione had, by unspoken agreement, divvied up Harry's classes, based on whether or not he needed (or cared) to study for them. Hermione had Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration. Ron had everything else. When McGonagall asked Harry what was wrong between his friends, the Professor had listened to his stuttered, red-faced explanation, and Minerva had sat him down, placed a tin of biscuits on her desk, and told him a story or two of a certain red-haired witch dealing with a certain black-haired wizard.

Etna took no argument on the matter, and made sure they practiced together against her.

"I understand you've been training ever since you met the Dark Lord?" asked Kingsley.

"Right," said Harry, unsure whether Albus had informed Kingsley of Etna's non-human status. Or if Madam Bones had. Or anybody else, for that matter.

"Albus asked me to keep an eye on you, while *ahem* Snuffles asked me to give you some pointers here and there in dueling."

Harry nodded, surprised, but smiled.

"Er- Any word on our largest friend?" asked Harry, hoping, possibly, that Kingsley might have news.

"Nothing yet. His traveling companion made it back fine, but she's still recuperating. If she knows anything, either she hasn't told Albus, or Albus isn't talking."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, let's see what you can do," said Kingsley, taking up a dueling stance.

Harry didn't wait for Kingsley to finish, and immediately started in on him with a fast stream of bludgeoning and blasting curses. Kingsley swore, and immediately went on the defensive, surprised at both Harry's immediate assault and what curses he lead off with. Harry started mixing it up with a variety of cutters, and also a slow siege banisher to slow down Kingsley while Harry quickly animated a few of the desks to attack Kingsley.

Kingsley, never one to play around, realized just how dangerous an opponent Harry was, vanished the desks and began to weave in his own counter-assault of slightly less dangerous spells.

Then Harry ran, still firing off a stream of life-threatening hexes and curses at Kingsley. He wondered why Harry was going into the desks, when Harry's wand snapped away for an instant, only to banish half a dozen of them at him. He leapt to the side, and then found himself banished into a wall for his trouble.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry.

"Who taught you that?" asked Kingsley, pulling himself into a sitting position as he ran his wand over his back, forcing the vertebrae straight.

"The American student, Etna de Malebolge."

Kingsley nodded, and pulled himself to his feet. He checked the cloak. Barely three minutes.

"And she normally has you lead off with those spells?"

Harry nodded, then considered for a moment.

"You… err… might want to ask Director Bones or Dumbledore about her."

Kingsley considered this for a moment, before dismissing Harry. He knew there was something odd about the girl, but Albus was being cagey about her. If she'd managed to get that sort of performance out of Harry, though… he'd have to pay attention. He knew Harry had his own little clique of students, and he wanted to see their performance all together. And if that included this Etna girl, well… maybe he'd see what she was made of.

"Hello Miss de Malebolge, please sit down."

"You really like this whole 'de Malebolge' name, don't you?" asked Etna, dropping into one of the chairs before Albus' desk. "You never call Harry 'Mister Potter.' Always Harry, even the first time you met him."

"Kingsley tells me Harry has been quite excellently trained to fight. I was interested in knowing why."

"Because he'll be on the front line of a war. Dark Lords have unhealthy interests in heros, and it's better to be prepared than not."

"And teaching him to kill?" asked Albus.

"It's a war, you incompetent buffoon. People fight. People die. If you make the other side die first, you live. If you don't, you die. This is a simple math, Albus. Even Hermione understands it."

"Children should not wage war," said Albus.

"Any leader will tell you, that children are always the first to wage war, because they're the easiest to convince. How many Death Eaters walk these very halls? Four? Five? More? You wage war. Children will fight. Children will die. It doesn't matter how hard you try to protect them, it'll still happen. It's your task that they know how to not die, and near as I can tell, you're failing miserably."

"I will not turn children into soldiers," growled Albus.

"When did I say that, buffoon?" asked Etna, slouching back into her chair, unconcerned about Albus' rising ire. "I said teach them how to defend themselves. None of your students have the killer instinct, except maybe Nott, Goyle, and Crabbe."

"I knew about Nott, but Goyle and Crabbe?" asked Albus.

"I recognize the type. They're henchmen, and henchmen always do the dirty work. Malfoy doesn't realize it, of course, but that's because he's an idiot. Once his dad bloods him, he'll figure it out. So when are you planning on telling Harry about the prophecy?"

"You know about the prophecy?" asked Albus, the shock of the statement allowing a mixture of horror and surprise onto his face.

"Nope, but I can make educated guesses, and then have you confirm it."

"Educated guesses?"

"El Dorko Lordo's unhealthy fascination with the Potters. Sure, they were a thorn in his side, but dealing with them personally? When he had the secret keeper? Why not just send an entire force after them? No, he did it personally, because he wanted it done right the first time."

"I am not used to battling wits with someone so capable of sussing out secrets."

"I'm a demon. It's a survival trait. You're withholding it because you assume Harry's too young, right?"

Albus nodded.

"I should warn you, he doesn't trust you right now."

"I… I know. He has a connection. He dreams, and sees Voldemort's very actions. I suspect the connection goes both ways, and had planned to keep my distance. I was hoping to have Severus teach him"

"In all likelihood it does go both ways," said Etna. "And your idiotic plan is idiotic as always. El Dorko Lordo already knows you're close to the boy. Distancing yourself just makes it more obvious. I'm sure Severus would be amused to tear apart the boy's mind, so instead I'll add Occulemancy to his lessons, and once he's learned, tell him how stupid you are."

Albus sighed.

"I just want to protect him."

"Protect him? Really? For what? To use him as your disposable weapon? The kid's untrained, and most of what he learned was trial and error, and paid for in blood. Best way to protect someone is to teach them how to protect themselves."

"I wanted the boy to have childhood."

"Well, it was stolen from him the instant he was left at his relative's doorstep."

"Stolen from him? What? When?"

"You didn't know? The boy's half-starved when he's at his relative's house, and he's either worked to the bone, or beaten when he isn't."

"Beaten… how do you know this?" asked Albus, incredulous.

"He never talks about his relatives, while Ron and Hermione while blather about theirs endlessly while asking me about the Overlord's court. Harry, however, is utterly silent on the matter. Ron told me they don't treat him well, while Hermione said he comes to school in rags. The kid's home wardrobe is nothing but clothing three or four sizes to big. I'm surprised they never put two and two together, and got four. Does he ever call them his family? Hasn't he ever asked to not go back to his relatives? Hasn't he begged and pleaded to not return? Did you think it was just wanting to be in the magical world? Or did you fail to notice how much smaller he was compared to his classmates?"

Albus had become paler and paler as Etna spoke.

"He…"

"You really didn't know, did you?" asked Etna. She shook her head. "Idiot." She stood. "I'll let you have fun interrogating Harry's relatives."

With chaos sowed, Etna left.

Draco Malfoy sat in the most comfortable chair in the Slytherin Common Room, and considered just what needed to be done. He glanced once more at the letter in his hand, and then tossed it into the fire.

It was addressed from his father, and it was written by his father's hand. The letter, however, was not from his father.

Draco was motionless as he considered the flames of the fire, watching them curl up the letter and turn it into ashes. His posture belayed no nervousness. His face allowed no anxiety to form.

The Dark Lord had asked of him to learn about the American. Why, Draco didn't know. She'd been sorted into Hufflepuff of all places. He supposed that said something about Americans, that they had neither the bravery, intelligence, or cunning to be placed in any of the proper houses. So why was the Dark Lord interested in her?

Unless… she is here to learn about her family. Perhaps the Dark Lord knows something. The girl is distinctive enough.

Draco decided on a plan of action. One that he hoped, given the Gryffindorian brashness the girl displayed, he'd survive.