A/N This began to unravel itself inside my head on Sunday, August 5. I was running over the traditional ‘adventure’ plot in which a group of students are sent out from Hogwarts to recover items/defeat Voldemort. I was trying to figure out how to twist it into a different format when it hit me. Why send all of the chosen students out? Surely, if they are so special, Hogwarts could use them to protect itself? How could the two groups of students communicate over long distances? What, exactly, are the reasons that these particular students were selected? And what happens when you have teenagers all alone in the woods with nobody for miles and miles? I’ll see if I can answer my own questions in this story.

Title: The Protagonists

Chapter: The Proclamation

Rating: PG

Summary: As Voldemort’s power grows, Dumbledore becomes concerned. With every last Auror busy, his hatred of Dementors, and all of the teachers being elderly, he is forced to turn to the students.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK-except for one line that belongs to Terry Pratchett.

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"Students," Dumbledore’s voice boomed across the Great Hall "I have a grave announcement. Voldemort’s power is growing with every day. Many families have been attacked. For your safety, all of you will be staying here for the Christmas holidays. It remains questionable on whether or not this restriction will be placed on the spring and summer breaks." A low murmur of disappointment spread over the room.

"There is one more thing. Hogwarts is vulnerable. We wish to protect those who we house as securely as possible. We have selected four student of the sixth and seventh years to help us with protecting the school. We have selected the two top students of the year. No, this does not necessarily mean the head boy and girl. We have also selected the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the best at Divination." At the last word, a seventh year by the name of Hermione Granger gave a derisive-and rather loud-snort.

Dumbledore sent a slightly reprimanding look toward her and continued. "I will now read the names of these students. Head Girl, and top student Hermione Granger. You have been selected." There was a brief silence in which the only audible sound was the sound of an extremely large book falling onto a small golden plate. The silence was quickly suffocated in the roaring cheering and clapping that followed.

"Though he is not Head Boy, he, along with Ms. Granger is top student. Draco Malfoy, you have been selected." The only applause that followed this announcement came from the Slytherins and a few of the female Ravenclaws.

"I’m sure most of you know the next student. He has, over the years, shown extraordinary courage and talent. Harry Potter, you have been selected." The cheers that came from this announcement put Hermione’s welcome to shame. Everyone (even some of the Slytherins) cheered him on, jumping up and down and banging golden goblets against the long house tables.

Dumbledore waited until the noise had subsided. "And finally, the only sixth year to be chosen, she is one of the best Seers this school has ever seen. Virginia Weasley, you have been selected." Silence. Nobody recognized the name. Of course, ‘Weasley’ was familiar, but Virginia? Who was Virginia? Nobody knew a Virginia.

And then one slow, deliberate clap rang through the silence. It was Ron Weasley applauding his little sister. Harry and Hermione followed. Then the rest of the Gryffindors joined in. The Ravenclaws caught the rhythmic beat of the clapping. It spread to the Hufflepuffs and, after a brief moment of unsure silence, the Slytherins brought their hands together for the little sixth year.

Nobody knew who started the chant, but it was picked up immediately. "GINN-Y, GINN-Y, GINN-Y!" The cry echoed, filling the room with its noise.

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After the cheering had died down (this had taken fifteen minutes of intense labor) the four had been dragged up to Dumbledore’s office for an explanation. There were four chairs arranged in a half circle around Dumbledore’s desk. The chairs appeared to be made of a thick silvery material, but if you looked at them too long the shape would shift and the chair would become a throne or a recliner or a stool. After giving the apparently magical chairs a doubtful glance, Hermione sat down in one. The transformation was immediate. It became a straight backed wooden chair with a built-in desk surface that could fold down along the arm. Harry’s chair became what looked like a small section of a Quidditch bleacher. Ginny’s metamorphosed into an enormous overstuffed armchair. After giving it a hesitant tap, Draco sat in the fourth chair, which promptly transformed into an enormous black throne-looking chair with tarnished silver filigree on the corners.

Dumbledore’s lips twisted into a smile. "The chairs conform to your personalities-and what you sit on most. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’m afraid the explanations are going to take a while.

"I’m sure you have noticed before that the majority of teachers here are quite elderly. Professor Snape is the youngest, and he is in his forties. I’d normally have him do the job, but he is already helping out in a different way." The only one of the four who had no clue as to what Dumbledore was talking about was Ginny. Ron hadn’t bothered to tell his little sister anything. He considered her a gossip, even though she had never told a secret in her life.

"Which is why we need students for the first part of the mission. Young, supple, able to bend over without being subjected to extreme pain. Sadly, I fill none of the requirements. As good friend of mine often says, life is wasted on the living." He finished.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" Hermione’s energetic voice chirped, "Don’t you mean ‘Life is wasted on the young’?"

"Not at all, Ms. Granger. My friend is a zombie."

"Oh." Pouting, Hermione sat back in the desk-chair.

"As I was saying. The only portkey that actually goes in to Hogwarts grounds is in a hidden vault in the Patrol Regarding Anteater or Termite Situations department. Which has been taken over by the Dark Forces."

Draco’s lips moved soundlessly. "Patrol Regarding Anteater or Termite Situations? P-R-A-T-S. Prats? There’s a department called prats?"

"P.R.A.T.S. to be specific. And they all are. But that’s not the point. The point is I need two of you to recover that portkey. I have chosen Harry, for his skills with Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hermione. Ginny and Draco, you will be staying here to help. Ginny, you can help by using your skills with Divination to spy on the Dark Forces and check up on Hermione and Harry. Draco, you can help her to enhance her Divination skills, and help us by strengthening our defenses.

Ginny inwardly seethed. Why was she always shoved into the background? People automatically assumed that she was either an average student with an oversized mouth that would blather all your secrets away, or an average student who was overly shy, wouldn’t speak unless spoken too, and worshipped the ground Harry walked on. Ginny despised them. So what? She had a crush on Harry in her first year, but it faded to almost nothing by her third year. She did better than Ron in her studies, she never told secrets, and she talked as much as anybody. Maybe it was the impression she gave, with her robes three sizes to big for her and well worn, her hair hanging down in disorderly locks around her face, and her piercing brown eyes looking out from behind bothersome strands of the aforementioned hair. As Rite Skeeter once remarked "She looks like a fox wearing a soiled overcoat that was much to big for her."

Draco, unlike Ginny, was rather vocal about his displeasure at the current situation. "Ok, so Potter and Granger over there get to skip school, save the world once again, and get even more fame while Weasley and I rot in some god-forsaken dungeon trying to read books written over a century ago in a different language that says something incomprehensible about the yellow toadstools in Outer Mongolia. Yes, Granger," He said as she opened her mouth "I know that was probably bad grammar, but I don’t want to know about it."

"Actually," she said in her best McGonnagle voice, "I was about to say that there are no yellow toadstools in Outer Mongolia. But yes, you are correct in the assumption that your sentence was bad grammar. It was too long. You should have put a period in there somewhere."

Draco groaned. "Didn’t I just tell you that I didn’t want to know about it?"

Dumbledore interrupted the approaching tirade. "This isn’t the only mission I will be sending you on, Mr. Malfoy. In the next one, you and Ms. Weasley will be out in the open, while Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger stay here. Please discuss this among yourselves. Without hurting each other too badly, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter." With a last twinkle of his blue eyes, Dumbledore shooed them out the door and down the hall.

"You know, every time I talk to him, I always feel like he’s simultaneously reading my mind and holding a telepathy conversation with some god.." Draco said carelessly.

Neither Harry nor Hermione paid any attention to the observation, and Ginny just rewarded him with a glare. He rolled his eyes. "Well, I feel so popular. Please, please, one at a time. You don’t have to line up to kiss the hem of my robes, you know." Sarcasm oozed out of every word.

Ginny whirled to face him, eyes blazing. "Look Malfoy, none of us like you, and none of us is going to stand your crap, okay? Just because we have to work together doesn’t mean I’m going to tolerate your juvenile insults. So either say something useful or shut up!" she hissed.

He blinked at her, unfazed. "There’s a bug in your hair." He told her evenly.

She jerked unconsciously, as if pulled by puppet strings. "What?" she said, thrown off balance, and began to furiously bat at her hair until a rather large flying-ant looking thing fell off her hair onto the floor. She stomped on it, grinding it into the floor, and then wiped the bug slime off on the rug. She turned from Draco’s bemused face so that he wouldn’t see her blush. Desperately, she tried to think of a way to regain her dignity.

"You won’t be able too, not after that scene." Draco’s soft drawl invaded her thoughts.

Startled, she turned to face him. "What did you say?"

"I didn’t say anything, Lava-for-brains." He sneered. " Are you talking to your invisible friend again?"

With a last viscous glare at Draco, Ginny stormed up to the Gryffindor tower.

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A/N Fuzzy pickles to all, and to all a good night/morning/afternoon/apocalypse.

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