Chapter Nineteen: Dangerous Times

April sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of the library, tinting Callidus’s hair with red, green, yellow and blue. I watched him work, head bent over his books and parchment. He reminded me so much of Hermione that it was jarring. For a moment I was a student again, and Hermione was working at whatever extra-credit assignment was due in.

Callidus stared at me as I sat down opposite him. “Sir?” He blinked, before putting down his quill, recapping his ink and closing his books. Lacing his fingers together, he gave me his full attention.

I swallowed. I’d forgotten how unnerving having his full attention was.

I glanced away for a moment, realising I had no idea what to say or where to start. Again, I hadn’t thought the whole thing through. What was up with me lately? Finally, I decided to start with the easy, normal stuff.

“Are you trying to take after Hermione, or something?” I asked with a grin. “No offence, but we’ll be all much happier if you don’t.” He was a born academic; he wouldn’t take any notice of what I said.

Callidus smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not. Just doing some homework, that’s all.” He shrugged when I raised an eyebrow. “Jasmine and the others are having one of their ‘girl-talks’.” He grimaced while I put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile.

“Ah. I see.” I paused, and then said, “Why don’t you hang out with the lads?” I was beginning to wonder whether I should have placed Callidus with one of the boys for the project, rather than Jasmine. His year-mates were finally beginning to realise Callidus wasn’t a threat to them, even if his surname still made them go pale. The guilt welled up before I could help it.

Callidus snorted. “They’re having one of their ‘guy-talks’. I figured homework was better than that.” He looked so genuinely disgusted that I had to struggle not to laugh. Callidus was the oldest eleven-year-old I’d ever met, older even than Hermione when she’d been his age. While this was all well and good, it was still worrying. He didn’t have to act mature all the time.

What I was about to tell him wouldn’t help matters. I pressed my lips together and tried to ignore the guilt as it surged up yet again.

“I guess I can understand that,” I said at last. “Being one of the guys is harder than it looks.” ‘Guy-talks’ usually comprised of Quidditch (depending on how many were obsessed with it), girls (or boys in my case), and, when you reached the later years, who was shagging whom. I’d lied at practically every guy-talk I’d been a part of. I couldn’t exactly say I found Severus Snape rather fuck-worthy. Didn’t work like that.

Callidus shrugged. “I’ll survive.” I had no doubt he would. But I still wished he’d at least try to participate.

We fell into silence, then, for a few moments, before he spoke again. “Sir, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here? I don’t think you came just to talk.” Damn him for being smart.

“No. No, I didn’t,” I said after a moment, realising it was now or never. “Callidus, I... we haven’t been entirely truthful with you.” Absolutely brilliant work, Potter, very subtle. Lockhart would be proud of you.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I sit down for this?”

It took me a moment to realise he’d just made a joke. I stared at him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, staring down at his parchment. “I’ll shut up now.”

“No,” I said vaguely, “it’s quite all right. Rather a relief, actually, to know you have a sense of humour.” The look he gave me was rather impressive for an eleven-year-old. Maybe just keeping my mouth shut was the safer option.

“Professor?” Callidus’s voice clearly hinted that he was beginning to worry about me. I smiled, wishing that this wasn’t happening. Wishing that we were both normal people, wishing we had normal lives. I wished for a lot of things, a lot of things that never came true. What was the point of wishing for something that would never change? Neither of us were normal and our lives would never be normal, either.

I sighed and quickly looked around. The only person there was Madam Pince, since every student with a shred of common sense was outside enjoying the weather. “Can you come to my office, please?”

Callidus looked suspicious, but nodded and started to gather his books. I took the coward’s option and left before him.

I opened the windows and took a deep breath of the lazy air that drifted inside. I’d worn the lightest robes I owned, and was still boiling. Grumbling, I opened the first few top buttons and rolled up the sleeves. Fuck decorum. As soon as this was over, I was changing to a shirt and trousers.

Deliberately ignoring the pile of unmarked parchment on my desk, I sat down and waited for Callidus to show up. I debated conjuring up water and ice, but decided against it. I was still his teacher: some things just couldn’t be that relaxed.

But it was so hot.

I was using one of the essays to fan myself, when Brandy shot through the window and landed on my lap. I nearly fell off the seat (almost causing her to tumble off, as well) and stared at her. “What the hell?” I literally shoved her off and skidded to the window.

Four stories. She’d jumped up four stories. I stared, my mind automatically searching for some bit of logic to rationalise this. Ah. She’d very carefully climbed up the window ledges to my own. She must have seen me opening the windows.

I turned back to look at her. She grinned at me, wagging her stump-tail, looking very pleased with herself.

“I don’t want to know,” I said firmly. “I just don’t want to know.”

She wagged her tail harder and started to look for something she could chew. I quickly made sure the parchments were out of her reach. It had happened before, and the owner of the essay hadn’t been happy.

“Sir?”

I looked up to find Callidus paused at the doorway, peering in. “Come in,” I said with a smile, falling back into my seat. I watched as Brandy went basically mad, dancing gleefully around Callidus as he came in, then staying still so some well-deserved (of course) attention could be lavished upon her. Spoilt brat.

He sat into the seat, dumping his bag on the ground at his feet. Then he leaned back, folded his arms, and waited expectantly. I blinked, before realising he was waiting for me to speak.

I sighed. I couldn’t put this off any longer. “We think there’s a specific group of people after you.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but he otherwise remained calm. A gazillion points to Slytherin, then. “I see. What sort of group? A cult, or something?” I was immediately reminded that Callidus was still only a kid, and one who had no experience of what was happening. Okay, think. Have to go slow with this.

“I don’t really know what you’d call them. A cult probably is the nearest thing.” I frowned, but kept on going. “We’re not sure what they want in general, but it is looking more and more likely that it’s definitely you they’re after.”

I watched as Callidus’s calm mask slipped and puzzlement filled his face. “Why? I mean... I don’t want to rule the world, or destroy people, or anything.” I felt my eyes narrow. Exactly how much on Voldemort had he read? And how much of it was sliding into his subconscious and taking root there?

I folded my arms and just looked at him for a moment. He tensed and snapped defensively, “What?”

“I don’t think you realise exactly who you are, and what that means to the Wizarding World in general,” I said at last, trying to keep this as simple as I could, though I personally didn’t know why. Callidus was smart enough that I could have used as many difficult words as I wanted to, and he would have understood perfectly. But I’d the feeling that was what the other teachers did, and wanted to give him a break from having to be the smart child prodigy.

“Meaning?” he asked, and there was a bite of his old hostility in his voice. For a moment he was the angry boy from months earlier, alone and lonely, using his intelligence and fury as defence mechanisms when the others feared him for some reason he couldn’t understand. For having a surname he’d never known was important; for having characteristics that had once belonged to someone whose name people had feared to even say.

“You are Callidus Riddle. Your name hints that you could be somehow related to Voldemort, even if none of us know why. He was incredibly smart, like you are, and incredibly angry, just like you. He could be warm one moment, aloof the next. People admired him, but were afraid of what he do could at the same time. Girls adored him, but he equally terrified them. You may only be eleven, but you already hold a great resemblance to him, and that makes people afraid of you. They fear you could follow in his footsteps.”

“But I don’t want to!” Callidus yelled, spectacularly losing his composure for the second time since I’d known him. “Sir, all I want to do is make proper friends, win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin, and get the best grades in the year. I don’t want to wipe out Muggle-borns or rule the world!”

If the situation hadn’t been so grave, I would have burst out laughing. In that one outburst, Callidus had proved he could act eleven better than anyone else in his year. I would have to convince him to join the ‘guy-talks’ after all.

He glared at me and my lips twitched dangerously.

“Well,” I said. Callidus seemed to realise what he’d just done, and went bright red. He clenched his hands into fists and stared down at them.

“I... didn’t need to do that, did I?” he mumbled, looking ready to kick himself.

“Uh, no,” I replied, fighting not to laugh. “No, you didn’t, but I enjoyed it all the same.”

“Thanks,” he said sourly, going even redder. I’d never seen him blush before and was savouring every moment, certain I wouldn’t see another situation like this for a long time. Callidus hated losing control. His life had been out of his control for eleven years, and he was just finding out that he could finally hold the reins. But some habits were hard to break.

But as he looked up at me again, his face still resembling a tomato, I couldn’t help but realise he’d come a long way in eight months. Before, he’d been as cold as ice, but now... now people were starting to trust him. He was still rather obsessed with study, but he was making friends. It was a very definite, very good start; I had to resist the urge to hug him.

I sighed, figuring things couldn’t get any worse. “There is one reason we think they want you: if you’re related to Voldemort, then you will be powerful. Any parent who has a child here will have no doubt heard about you, and they’ll talk. Word always spreads fast. People will know who you are and that you’re here. This cult might want you to continue Voldemort’s work — yes, we’ve been through that,” I added quickly, seeing Callidus open his mouth furiously. “Either that, or they could want you to unleash their plans, whatever they are.”

Callidus frowned hard, narrowing his eyes as he worked things out in his head and applied his own logic to them. “Okay,” he said finally. “Whatever they want, the best thing is to make sure they can’t get me. And since I’m stuck here anyway, I don’t see the problem.”

I sighed. “Hogwarts has been penetrated before,” I admitted. He raised his eyebrows. “Followers of Voldemort who knew capturing me would definitely put them in his good books,” I explained briefly, not wanting to go into further detail.

And Dumbledore didn’t stop them, I found myself thinking. I’m going to make damn sure the same thing doesn’t happen to Callidus.

“Ah,” Callidus said, instinctively knowing better than to ask questions.

“You’re taking this extremely well,” I remarked, absently stroking Brandy as she climbed up to flop down beside my arm, and promptly started to doze. “If it was me, I highly doubt I’d be taking it this well.” Before I would have taken it well, but lately... well, I think mood swings said it all.

He shrugged, not looking very concerned. “There’s nothing I can do, is there? I can’t really go charging after them.” I inwardly winced, knowing full well that was what I wanted to do. And this was the primary difference between Slytherins and Gryffindors. Gryffindors charged right in; Slytherins waited and planned.

“I know they’re dangerous — any cult that’s caught your attention, and most likely Dumbledore’s, can’t be good,” he went on, still calm and unruffled. “But there really isn’t anything I can do, except wait and hope for the best. So, yeah.” He shrugged, smiling somewhat sheepishly.

I stared at him. My pride certainly wasn’t dealing well with the fact that an eleven-year-old boy was acting more mature than me right now, and making a hell of a lot more sense. Bloody hell, this boy needed to make mistakes and forget to do homework, and fast.

I didn’t know how this would change him. Perhaps if I had, I never would have told him anything.

Callidus’s face darkened. “But I do think Dumbledore should try and get Veronique to leave,” he added, sounding angry. I blinked in surprise. “There’s something... wrong in her.”

“Wrong?” I asked, remembering the cold, dark power I could often feel from her, a power that usually nagged at the back of my mind, power that was connected to something I’d once known. Power that I did not like one bit.

He frowned, gritting his teeth. “Just trust me. She needs to go, and the sooner the better.”

I stared at him again, but knew better than to ignore anything he said. “I’ll mention it to the headmaster.” Then, in an effort to lighten the rapidly plummeting atmosphere, I asked, “Do you want a drink, or something? ’Cause I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’m roasting alive!”

He smiled faintly, but shook his head. “I better head back. Jessica made me promise to nag her about doing some homework. She says I’m better than any conscience.”

I laughed, knowing full well that she was right. “All right. Thank you for listening to me,” I added seriously.

“No, thank you, sir,” Callidus answered, sounding just as serious, “for telling me. Thank you for looking out for me.”

And that, I realised, was exactly what I was doing. Looking out for him. Trying to protect him. I blinked, unable to think of anything to say in reply.

He stood up, grinning, and turned to walk to the door. He kept it open, and had just gone through when I said one more thing.

“And Callidus?”

He turned, keeping his expression sufficiently polite.

“Don’t worry,” I said, meeting his gaze.

Callidus stood perfectly still for a moment, before nodding slowly. Then his control slipped and something filled his face for a split second, before he pulled himself together and quickly left.

I realised a few seconds later that I’d just been staring into the eyes of a very worried, very scared, eleven-year-old boy.

 

* * * * *

 

I walked into the staff room and immediately knew something was going on. Everyone turned, and I gritted my teeth at the sea of faces staring up at me. I closed the door and walked to my seat.

“Sorry I’m late. Something important came up.” Hagrid’s Kneazles had escaped and guess who’d been roped in to help?

Dumbledore’s beard twitched and his eyes twinkled. “Not at all, Harry. These things happen.” I’d bet my next salary that he knew exactly what had happened.

Severus brushed my hand as I passed by, an action that occurred in the blink of an eye, that no one else (hopefully) saw. It sent warmth shooting up my arm and down my spine. And lower down than that, of course. I fought to keep walking normally. But when I was seated, I shot him a small smile, before turning my attention back to Dumbledore.

“I’ve called a staff meeting because Ms. Delordre has decided to leave us, her articles having been completed,” Dumbledore explained. My eyes flew to Veronique, but she was already looking at me, her expression hard.

Finally, I thought irritably, leaning back and folding my arms. It had taken her an extremely long time to complete her ‘series of articles’. I glanced at Severus, who looked distinctly relieved.

“We are, of course, most sorry that you’re leaving us,” Dumbledore went on, turning to Veronique.

Not really, I thought, suppressing a yawn.

Veronique smiled. “It was wonderful to be here, Headmaster. It was extremely... informative.”

I bit my lip to avoid laughing, but the back of my neck prickled at the poison-sweet tone of her voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Severus’s eyes narrow.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, causing me to look up in alarm. “Would you please escort Ms. Delordre outside?”

I froze. She doesn’t need an escort: no one would dare touch her! I thought frantically. Severus’s eyes widened. Did Dumbledore realise what he was asking? Veronique and I hated each other — no one in their right mind would leave us together. I struggled to control my rising dismay; everyone was looking at me.

I slowly rose to my feet. “Of course, Headmaster.” I moved towards the door, trying not to see Severus’s worried expression.

Once outside I started walking quickly, grinding my teeth. She could catch up with me if she wanted an escort that badly. She did catch up, holding her suitcase and travel bag tightly. Neither of us spoke until we reached that entrance and started down the steps. I was grinding my teeth to dangerous proportions, trying to keep a tight leash on my temper and rising fury.

“You’re most likely jumping for joy now that I’m leaving,” Veronique said, not bothering to look at me.

“Do I look as if I am?” I snapped in reply, clenching my hands to stifle the urge to throttle her.

“You will.”

I clenched my teeth yet again, and continued to walk.

We reached the gates and stared at each other. There were so many things I wanted to say to her, so many accusations I wanted to throw, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t enough evidence. Instead, I looked at her in stony silence.

But there was one thing I had to say, one thing I couldn’t let slide. Perhaps it would do for everything.

“Whatever you were really here for, whatever you really came to do, it’s over now,” I said quietly. “It’s over and you’re gone.”

She smiled at me, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh no, Mr. Potter, it’s definitely not over. In fact, it’s only just beginning.” She now openly grinned at my astonishment. “But I say goodbye for now, Harry, for I will see you again.”

I hadn’t time to reply, hadn’t time to snarl at her about using my first name, hadn’t time to stop her and demand to know what the hell was going on. Veronique smiled at me one last time, before slipping through the gates and walking down the path towards Hogsmeade. She’d only gone halfway when she Disapparated in the blink of an eye.

I stared at the spot where she’d been, trying to figure out what had just happened. Her power lingered in the air, cold and dark... and extremely familiar. I frowned, trying to remember what was so important about it.

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself, before turning and walking back up the drive.

 

* * * * *

 

Severus hurried down the steps as I approached and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly to him. I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in the scents of Potions, Rosewood and musk. I closed my eyes, relieved that with Veronique gone, things could go back to normal. We didn’t have to hide or be careful. Tactful, perhaps, but not careful.

“Are you all right?” he asked as I drew back, looking concerned. “She didn’t do anything, did she?”

I put one of my hands in his, holding tight. “No more than usual,” I said, a smile breaking out on my face.

He raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “And what are you so happy about? Did she hit on you?”

“Urgh!” I cried, screwing up my face. “Why do you say things like that? And no, she bloody well did not. Try and make me sick, will you?” But I was still smiling.

“So what’s so good that you can smile about it?” Severus asked, his expression saying that he’d already guessed and he just wanted me to say it.

I went up on tiptoe and kissed him gently. “Suppose I’m moving back in later, then?”

“Of course you can, provided you do the actual moving part,” he answered smoothly.

I rolled my eyes, but allowed him to wrap his arm around me and pull me close as we walked back up the steps together.

 

* * * * *

 

I rubbed my eyes, wincing as I yawned and my jaw cracked. Even if I’d never taken a hint in my life, I knew my body was telling me that this was it for the night.

I stretched, massaging my lower back slowly. I wanted to do nothing more than crawl into bed beside Severus and ignore the fact I had to get up early tomorrow for classes. Maybe I’d wake him up and see if he could do a better job on my back than I was. I grimaced. Why had I thought doing my own research was a good idea?

Well, actually, Severus thought doing my own research was a good idea. He’d tired of me walking around irritated, moody and worried (completely unable to do anything, of course), and had suggested I do my own research if I was that desperate. He reckoned there was probably something in the Restricted Section, and all but threw me out the door.

So here I was in the library at one in the morning, tired and with no new information. Wonderful... Severus was so going to pay for this. Grumbling, I rubbed my eyes harder, trying to get my exhausted mind to work properly for a few more minutes, before hitting the sack.

There had been something lurking in the back of my mind since Severus had ordered me to the library, something important. I growled, pressing my fingers against my temples in an effort to dull the approaching headache. Think...

The black book. That was it.

It had been months since I’d last gone near it, and now that I had the chance I figured I might as well check on it. Not to open it though, of course. Even I wasn’t that stupid. Grabbing the lantern, I walked further into the Restricted Section, towards the shelf I’d last put the book in.

It wasn’t there.

Okay.

Keep calm.

But it was rather hard to when my heart pounded and adrenaline rushed through my veins. I swallowed repeatedly, unwilling to allow my emotions to run away with me. There had to be a logical explanation — hell, there had to be. While there were a few shelves that regularly hid their books or switched them to different shelves, the one I’d put the black book in was just a perfectly normal, non-switching shelf. It should still be there.

Unless... Callidus had taken it, after all.

I chewed my lip, absently running my hand over my chin. I frowned; I needed to shave. Think, think. Callidus wasn’t one to break promises, especially one made concerning this book. If he said he wanted to wait until he was better prepared to open the book (not that I was going to let him), then that was what he would do. He wouldn’t go back on his word, not him. He wouldn’t.

Unfortunately, thoughts like these weren’t finding that damn book. I frowned harder, my mind already helpfully supplying me with images if Callidus had opened the book. No, couldn’t think about that right now. I tried to ignore them, instead running through what remained of my options. The only thing I could think of was to go to Dumbledore.

My common sense demanded to know was I going mad. Why on earth would I go to Dumbledore? He’d already proven something was really wrong and shown himself not be particularly reliable at the present moment. But this was important and I truly didn’t know what else to do. Without realising it, I’d automatically reverted to the old ways: when in trouble, go to Dumbledore. I would have burst out laughing, if the circumstances hadn’t been so bad.

I hurried back to the table, put away the books and scrolls I’d been looking through, and quickly left the library. It took great effort not to run flat-out through the corridors and halls. It was even harder not to allow my panic to take control, but somehow I managed it. That didn’t stop my heart pounding, or the blood throbbing in my ears, or the bile I could taste in the back of my throat.

I was almost at the corridor where the gargoyle was, when I tripped over something. I yelped as I landed hard on the floor, my hands slapping against the flagstones. I gritted my teeth as pain shot up my arms, and waited a few moments before I got my bearings. Then, aware that my head was spinning slightly, I got unsteadily to my feet, and looked down to see what I’d tripped over.

My vision swam, as my knees shook and I nearly fell again. No, no, it couldn’t be... but it was.

Lavender lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, unconscious. At first I thought she’d only fainted, but then I saw the darker patches on her face and robes, and the smell hit me, sharp and metallic. A familiar smell, one that caused my stomach to roll. It was a smell I associated with screams, and rage, and fury...

I wouldn’t allow myself to touch it, didn’t want my fingers to come back red. Instead, I knelt and checked her pulse with trembling hands. She was still alive, thank God. But... but what had happened?

My heart now pounding painfully in my ears, I struggled to my feet, only able to think of one thing: get help. Hoping my legs weren’t going to give out, I threw caution to the winds and ran towards the gargoyle.

 

* * * * *

 

“Harry. Harry, come on.”

A hand was at my elbow, tugging gently. I blinked, abruptly dragged out of my clouded daze. I looked up to find Severus beside me, a worried frown on his face. “Come on, I’m taking you back to our rooms.”

I looked at him, unable to comprehend for a moment. “No,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Shouldn’t we wait, or something...?”

“And do what?” he asked quietly, raising an eyebrow. He had a point; there wasn’t a whole lot we could do at this time. I sighed, glancing behind me in the direction Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall and Dumbledore had taken Lavender. Something was wrong, very wrong. The fact that there had been no lead-up to the attack and no reason for it only made everyone more nervous. My stomach churned.

“Okay,” I muttered, allowing him to lead me in the direction of the dungeons and our rooms, Brandy trotting anxiously along beside us. I leaned against him, trying to stop my thoughts swirling in my head so I could think straight. Plus, I was getting one very painful headache. Again.

“But why Lavender?” I muttered, shaking my head irritably and wincing as pain throbbed at my temples. “I mean, all she does is teach Divination! She doesn’t even piss any of the students off! So why would anyone want to attack her?”

“I don’t know,” Severus replied slowly, looking like he was thinking hard. “It doesn’t make all that much sense, I admit.” We reached the door and Severus pressed his hand against the worn wood, ready to murmur the password.

The door swung open. We stared at it. “Odd,” Severus muttered, his eyes narrowed. “I could have sworn I pulled up the wards before I left...” He never, ever forgot to put up the protection wards. Sometimes it was nice to have a lover as paranoid as myself.

We went in and I sank into the nearest armchair, rubbing my forehead and eyes tiredly. I couldn’t wait just to get back into bed. “I still don’t understand why anyone would have wanted to hurt Lavender,” I repeated. “She isn’t a threat to anyone!” Then I realised Severus had gone straight through to the bedroom, and sighed deeply.

“Harry... you better — just come in. Now.”

I looked up, frowning. He sounded very... strange. Almost panicky, which he never was. It was an accepted law of nature: Severus Snape never panicked unless the circumstances were near fatal.

Wondering what the hell was going on, I walked through the doorway — and gasped.

Severus was kneeling on the floor, touching something very gently. It took a moment for my eyes to correctly translate what I was seeing on the floor. My mother’s lily. On the floor. Shattered.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was literally speechless.

“Harry.” Severus looked up at me, his dark eyes infinitely serious. I knew he hadn’t done this, that he’d just come in and found it this way. He knew how much my mother’s lily meant to me, what it symbolised. He would never destroy it. Never. But someone else had.

It took me several tries before I could speak. “How could anyone have gotten by your protection spells? They’re the most lethal I know.”

He shrugged. “I truly don’t know. No one’s managed to before, not even Dumbledore.” And that was an achievement in itself.

I stared down at the lily, swallowing hard. I would not crack. I would not crack. I couldn’t, wouldn’t. Taking a deep breath, I knelt, reaching out for the shattered pieces. They were cold and dark, their magic gone. I felt like part of me had disappeared right along with it. My fingertips brushed the jagged crystal, and it was too much. The book gone, Lavender being attacked, and now this... too much in too little time. My head couldn’t cope.

I swallowed, fighting against the warm sting of tears in my eyes. I wouldn’t lose control, no way. I was sick of losing control.

I leaned back on my heels so I was sitting on the ground, my knees drawn up to my chest and my hands wrapped around them. I felt numb, empty, like a hollow shell. I suspected — no, I knew who was behind this. The same person who’d attacked Lavender. But it was also impossible, since she’d already been gone for over a week. Someone would have seen her come back, since she wasn’t exactly a person who blended in very well.

I felt arms encircle me, felt my head being pressed against warm robes. I closed my eyes, wishing that being held would make everything go back to the way it had been, but knowing that it couldn’t. Brandy snuggled into my lap with a worried keen and I automatically began to pat her, wishing she hadn’t come running with Severus when Dumbledore had gathered everyone. Perhaps if she’d stayed, then this wouldn’t have happened. But I couldn’t turn back the clock, not without a Time-Turner at least.

And who the hell was going to give me one of them?

 

* * * * *

 

She was sitting up in bed, writing down something. Her face was tense, her eyes determined and narrowed. I stayed at the doorway, unwilling to immediately break her concentration. I watched her, trying to remember why this looked so familiar.

The images hit me hard and fast, like a Muggle movie, so quickly I hadn’t time to even gasp.

 

*The dungeons were cold and dark; nothing surprising there. But something was different. Something wasn’t right.

I crept along the corridors, pulled by some force I couldn’t fight. The torches were guttering, almost spent out, their dim light casting long shadows around me, shadows that were rapidly eating up what little light was left.

My head told me to cast Lumos and make things easier for myself, but my hand wouldn’t grip my wand. There was a tense balance around me, like something was going to happen. Something dreadful. It was like everything was waiting. Just... waiting. I didn’t want to light my wand, having this irrational fear that if I did, I’d upset the balance.

When I turned another corner, I heard someone sobbing. I froze, my heart in my throat. Gripping my wand so tightly that my fingers ached, I approached the door silently, fighting the urge not to cast any spell even though I desperately wanted to defend myself.

I reached the open door like a shadow, easing through it so silently I amazed myself. For a moment I wondered if this was a dream, but then my fingers brushed the wall, damp and solid, and I knew this was no dream. This was real.

Lavender was sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth, curled into a tight ball and sobbing her heart out, or at least that’s what it sounded like. I clenched my teeth, walking as softly as I could manage, but wondered if that was such a good idea. Maybe I should give her some warning that I was here?

She decided for both of us. Her head snapped up, her eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying. Her face was that pinched scarlet after crying, dry and sore. She regarded me warily, her expression saying more than any words could. She didn’t trust me, and frankly I couldn’t blame her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. She glared at me, sniffing angrily. “I came down here so I’d be left alone!”

“I came for the same reason,” I muttered, dearly wishing I’d stayed in Gryffindor Tower after all. She blinked. “What? You thought I came here to find you? My, we are feeling sure of ourselves, aren’t we?”

Her glare intensified. “What’s wrong with you, lately? You used to be so nice, and now you’ve turned into such a... a... jerk!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Jerk? Is that the best you can come up with?” The bitter laugh that came out of my mouth didn’t sound like me and showed how far I’d fallen. How much I’d changed.

Her face crumbled and I sighed, realising how exhausted she was, to the point that she honestly looked like she was going to keel over. We were on the same side, really, and I was being unnecessarily cruel. There was no point in me taking out my anger and worry on her.

“Why did you change?” she asked, practically croaked. “What happened?”

I closed my eyes as images rose unbidden to answer her question. But closing my eyes didn’t help. “The nightmares have been getting worse,” I heard myself say, “as has the pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

My eyes snapped open at her words.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” I snarled, aware that I was being rough, and not particularly caring. “I was out of line.”

We were both more similar than either of us wanted to admit. Both victims of this rapidly accelerating war; she because of visions and me because of expectations.

I’d changed. I knew that like I knew my own name. The year had hardened me, a year of death, and nightmares, and pain. A year of betrayal and allegiance. A year with more surprises than I ever wanted again.

“He’s going to kill Trelawney, you know.”

“What?” I jerked out of my thoughts, staring at her.

“You-Know-Who,” Lavender explained. “He’s going to kill Trelawney. I saw it.”

I continued to stare at her. She’d changed, herself, even if she didn’t know it yet. Before, all she cared about was boys, make-up and clothes. But ever since her first vision earlier this year, she’d toughened up, realising there was more at stake than her newest robes or eye-shadow. It made me respect her a lot more.

Her visions had become steadily worse as the year had gone on. All of them had been right, even the ones that made her cry. I didn’t spend much time with her, which had been wrong of me. But we’d never spent much time together, even before the war. It didn’t exactly bring us together.

The news of Trelawney’s impending death didn’t surprise me. I’d been expecting it ever since I’d learned that all of her true visions had been related to Voldemort. Just because of that, she was on his death list.

“What was her last vision?” I asked, looking around for a place to sit.

Lavender looked away. “You-Know-Who’s downfall. His final one.”

I froze. “Can... can you tell me?”

“She won’t even tell me.” Lavender shook her head irritably. “You know she’d only trust Dumbledore with this.”

I decided not to mention the vision Trelawney had experienced at my Third Year exam. “I know, I know. I figured I’d try anyway.” I grinned crookedly at her, which she hesitantly returned.

Silence fell. It took Lavender several tries before she could speak again. “I’m so scared, Harry.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

I closed my eyes. “So am I.”

 

I jerked back into the present, blinking rapidly. That was one memory I’d hoped I’d never remember again in my life. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the Hospital Wing. “Hi, Lavender.”

She looked up at me with surprise, quickly putting away the parchment and quill. I decided to leave well enough alone and not pry into that matter any further. I had enough to worry about without knowing what secrets she held.

“Harry!” She smiled. “How are you?”

“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to ask you that?” I teased, pulling over a chair so I could sit down beside the bed.

Lavender shrugged, still smiling. “You could have at least brought chocolate,” she remarked, pouting.

“I forgot,” I admitted with a sheepish smile.

Yes, we were both sticking to teasing and being the brunt of our own humour. Better that than to be serious and having to face things that neither of us really wanted to.

She rolled her eyes. “Wonderful.” My grin grew wider.

“How are you?” I asked, keeping my voice as light as possible.

“Better in that nothing hurts anymore,” she replied, glancing down at her hands for a moment. “God help us when Madam Pomfrey eventually retires,” she added with a laugh. “No one will ever be able to fill her shoes.”

“No,” I agreed, smiling. Then I hesitated, before saying, “Have you any idea who it was?”

Lavender sighed. “None. I can hardly remember it, truth be told. I didn’t see anyone, there was just pain at the back of my head all of a sudden. Then I blacked out.” She frowned, now glaring at the bedspread.

I sighed myself, knowing I hadn’t expected her to remember anything, really. It’d been too much to hope for that she would. “I don’t know why anyone would attack you.”

“I don’t know either,” she replied quietly, her face pale.

“We’ll find them, whoever they are,” I said earnestly, inwardly surprised that I was showing so much concern. True, she was the first one my age I’d met on the staff and she was kind, but that didn’t really build a friendship. But I felt I could trust her, for some bizarre reason. I didn’t like the fact that I seemed to trust her and Padma so easily. I’d trusted others and they’d only betrayed me. My level of cynicism had risen unhealthily through the years.

She shrugged. “I suppose you will,” she said, not sounding very convinced.

I resisted the urge to frown. Seeing her expression brought back memories of Terry, someone I didn’t really want to think about. Remembering what he’d said, I brought up something that had been on my mind for a while. It both changed the subject and got one of my questions answered.

“Lavender, did you feel our Year were always in my shadow?”

She blinked, staring blankly at me. “What on earth do you mean by that?” I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now that I’d asked. “Well, at times we were, I guess, but not often. For our first year we were usually known as people in your year, but we kind of expected that. It basically depended on the people themselves; some of them did think they were in your shadow — Malfoy, for one. I think that was why he always tried so hard to beat you in things. But most of us didn’t really care.” She smiled. “Feeling awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Just something someone once said to me, that’s all. I figured I’d ask now that I’d remembered it and everything.”

“Of course.” She didn’t believe me, but apparently knew better than to pry.

I prepared to rise. “I better go; I’ve a pile of correcting still to do and a few students want me to give them some extra help. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Lavender.”

“Harry, wait.” She caught my wrist, looking up at me with serious eyes. I stared at her, shocked. “There’s... there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

I continued watching her, waiting.

“It’s about Callidus.”

Well.

“I’ve had a few visions about him. Disturbing ones.” Her face was still pale, her cheekbones stark against the tight skin. Whatever she felt about the attack, her body was still recovering from it. “Harry, be careful. I know you trust him and so do I, to an extent, but there’s plenty we don’t know about him.” I opened my mouth, but she held up a hand, keeping me quiet. “Not about his life or him, but about what goes on in his head. We have no real idea of what he thinks about us, not really. All we have is what he says, and not all of that may be true. Just... be careful.” Her eyes looked like they were full of shadow. “Something’s going to happen, I think. I hope I’m wrong.”

Outside, the dark clouds opened. Rain splattered against the windows, instantly making the room feel colder. I shivered, but not from any chill.

“I’ll be careful,” I said, giving her the strongest smile I could manage. “You know I will. But I do think we can have faith in Callidus. Hogwarts is his home, you know it is. He has nowhere else to go.”

“This is the only home he knows about,” Lavender said, her voice grim.

I shook my head and turned to go. “’Bye, Lavender.”

My footsteps echoed on the flagstones as I walked back to the dungeons. I was silent, staring down at the ground as I let my thoughts drift. She’d given me much to think about, not all of it good.

 

* * * * *

 

Severus looked up from the book he was reading, took one look at me, and said, “Sit. Now.”

I needed no further encouragement and curled up on the couch, leaning against him. He pressed his fingers against my arm briefly, before returning to his book. Brandy, settled in his lap, crawled over until she was in mine. I wrapped my arms around her, burrowing my face into her fur. She nuzzled my cheek, licking it gently.

The silence was comforting, far better than any conversation could have been. Made me glad that Severus wasn’t a chatterbox, really. I dozed against his shoulder. I’d forgotten how tired I was while everything had been going mad, but now the adrenaline had faded. Exhaustion crashed over me like a wave; I could hardly keep my eyes open.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said after a few minutes, breaking the peaceful silence before I’d even realised I’d spoken.

Severus lowered his book. “What do you mean?”

I sighed, closing my eyes. “Lavender says she’s had some visions about Callidus, disturbing visions. Basically she just gave me a warning to not trust him completely.”

“And what do you think?” Severus asked carefully, his voice quiet. His expression was grave.

“I wish they’d just stop giving me warnings about things I can’t change, and just tell me something that I could go out and do something about,” I muttered, my eyes still closed. Severus laughed and I quirked a grin before I could help it.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get our chance,” he said.

“I hope so,” I murmured, scratching Brandy behind her left foreleg, a spot she found hopelessly ticklish. She yelped, tail wagging frantically. “Lavender is almost positive something’s going to happen anyway. She just doesn’t know what.”

I don’t remember drifting off, but I must have. When I opened my eyes again, I was covered with a blanket and a cushion was under my head. I blinked, realising Severus had moved to another armchair and was looking at something moving in his hand.

“What’s that?” I asked, sitting up and looking at him curiously.

He snapped his hand back to his side, looking guilty and embarrassed at the same time. “Nothing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Mm-hm. Of course.” I pulled off the blanket, swinging my legs onto the floor. I felt uncomfortable after sleeping in my clothes, like sweat had dried into my clothes and skin, and I desperately needed a bath. My throat felt as dry as a desert, like a fever was rapidly approaching. Wonderful. Bloody spiffy.

Walking over, I perched onto an armrest, folded my arms, and waited. Sighing, he wordlessly handed it over. My eyes widened, as I frantically tried to stop my jaw from dropping. The tiny wolf from the Christmas cracker, the one that looked like me in my Animagus form, sat on my palm, grinning up at me as his plumed tail thumped my skin quite happily.

I glanced at him, noting the growing blush he was frantically tried to keep a leash on. I smiled. “You kept it?”

He nodded, quickly putting the wolf back into the pocket on his robes. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes.” My own one was in my quill jar, somehow managing to use the feather on my largest quill as a bed. Watching it prance around my desk made correcting less of a chore.

We lapsed into silence, which let my thoughts run riot again. “Do you think I should go to Dumbledore with what Lavender told me?” I asked at last.

“Hm? Oh, no, I don’t think so. Besides,” he added with a shrug, “she’ll go herself. Probably already has.”

I frowned to myself, realising he was being deliberately evasive. He didn’t want me to go and he was making up poor excuses for it, which wasn’t like him at all. “What if she hasn’t?”

“That’s her problem, not yours,” Severus pointed out. “These are her visions, not yours.”

My frown grew deeper, and this time he saw it. “Just... trust me,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. “You know Dumbledore hasn’t been himself lately. I really don’t think telling him any of this would do any good.”

He was right about Dumbledore, at least, and now that I thought about it I realised going to Dumbledore really wasn’t the best thing to do; look what had happened the last time we’d spoken. I still suspected Severus was keeping something from me, but he was right about not going to Dumbledore... right now, anyway. And besides, there were things that I kept from Severus and didn’t want him to know about; hadn’t he the right to do the same?

“Why not ask Granger to some research?” Severus suggested, returning to his book and fighting a yawn. “She works in the Ministry; no doubt she’d be able to get her hands on things not meant for her. She did it plenty of times while here, after all.”

I blinked. It was the first thing that had made sense all day.

 

* * * * *

 

The clock read three in the morning. I still couldn’t get to sleep. I hated insomnia with a deep passion; it always struck at the worst times. I growled and thumped my pillow. Beside me, Severus stirred and I went still again. No sense in waking him up just because I couldn’t sleep.

I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. The candles were almost out, making light desperately scarce. I kept on staring, my mind going a mile a minute, constantly turning things round and round, looking for a new prospective and fresh answers.

Lavender suspected something was going to happen, but wasn’t sure what. She distrusted Callidus, but had no proof expect her suspicions; visions weren’t always right. Severus suspected something was wrong, too, but again wasn’t sure what. He was reluctant to place the blame on Callidus, however.

I’d promised Callidus that I’d watch out for him; I couldn’t go back on my word. Besides, I was sure that he was smart enough to stay out of anything dangerous.

I needed answers — proper, solid answers, not half-truths and maybes. And right now there was only one person who could give them to me.

My letter to Hermione was fully composed in my head — I’d spent the last two hours drafting it, with little better to do. I might as well write it now and post it in the morning. It might burn off the excess energy that would finally allow me to sleep, if I was lucky enough.

It was too easy to keep quiet while I rummaged for parchment and ink; I’d had much practise doing this, after all. I hoped this insomnia kick wasn’t going to become a permanent fixture. The last thing I needed was no sleep to add on top of everything else; for one thing, my headaches would double in intensity.

The letter was finished in hardly ten minutes... maybe planning was a good thing to do, after all. I leaned back in my chair, immensely satisfied with myself. I’d successfully intertwined what I wanted her to do, along with adding in the usual letter inquiries and greetings. Not bad. I reread it one more time, making sure everything was exactly right.

Dear Hermione...

I was yawning when I returned to bed, curling up to Severus and pulling the covers up around me. This time my movements weren’t so careful; he stirred and opened one eye drowsily.

“What’s wrong?” he muttered, blinking slowly, still only half-awake.

I smiled, kissing him gently, before wrapping an arm around his waist and settling my head onto his shoulder. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

 

* * * * *

Padma watched me through narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you have Dumbledore’s permission?” she asked again, folding her arms and giving me an impressive glare.

I nodded, hoping I wasn’t breaking out in a sweat; she was harder to convince than I’d thought she’d be. “Of course I do.” Severus had agreed to vouch for me beforehand, though I’d worried he was too obvious. But having anyone else would mean telling them where I was going, which would lead to questions, and end up with me before Dumbledore. I didn’t even want to think about that.

She watched me for a few more moments, a foot tapping the ground slowly. Finally she sighed. “All right, then. Have you the strength to Apparate?”

I nodded, and she turned to start walking towards the driveway. I ran to catch up with her. It had been a stroke of luck that she’d mentioned her trip to Diagon Alley to me while playing chess (with me being trashed, of course). It coincided nicely with my visit to Hermione, so I’d asked her could I come along. When she’d asked why, I simply told her I was meeting an old friend. She’d risen an eyebrow and said that I had to get Dumbledore’s permission first, of course. Which had left me with a problem.

I didn’t like lying and being deceitful, and knew I was going to be in trouble when I came back, but I simply wasn’t comfortable with Dumbledore anymore. His health and memory had deteriorated to the level that most of the staff (and a few children) were beginning to realise something was up. Even to ask him for a day off seemed too great a risk to take, since a few others had said he was having odd mood-swings lately. I had to meet Hermione, whether Dumbledore allowed me to or not. Severus had agreed to take my classes for the day.

Even Padma was acting strange and I hadn’t expected her to be this forceful about getting Dumbledore’s permission. I suspected she knew I was lying, but she couldn’t very well force the issue, so she just kept silent, for which I was extremely glad.

We separated upon reaching the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley: she went to the Diagon Alley branch of the Ministry, to go to the Archives Building from there; I went to a small restaurant that Hermione and I had earlier agreed on.

The Pearl’s Oyster was a small, well-run seafood restaurant that Hermione had fallen in love with several years earlier. Usually there was a pleasant enough crowd there, but today it was crammed with people. I squeezed inside, vainly trying to see familiar bushy hair in the mass of bodies around me.

“Harry!”

Hermione waved frantically from a seat in the back of the room, in a sheltered alcove; being such a frequent, well-paying visitor, the owner pretty much gave her anything she wanted. I was grateful for the privacy: it would make talking far more easier.

“Hermione!” I returned, hugging her upon reaching the table. “You look great,” I said with a smile. It was true: she looked better than I’d seen her in years. What had changed in the few months since I’d seen her?

She laughed, almost looking embarrassed. “You don’t look half so bad yourself. I trust things are going well?” In other words, things were good between Severus and me?

I nodded, grinning. “Splendidly. He says hello, by the way.” She smiled.

A waiter came to take our order then, putting an end to the conversation for the moment. She didn’t speak again until he was gone.

“What’s happening, Harry?” she asked me, concerned. “You look tense enough to snap.” I realised her earlier greeting had been for any curious onlookers.

I rose to close the door, grateful that things could be kept private. “What have you found out about The Order?” I asked, returning to my seat.

“Not a whole lot,” Hermione replied, her eyebrows snapping together. “I checked every library I could get permission to go into, and only found basic information, stuff you already know. I tried to get into the main archives, but that only led to odd questions, so I decided not to push my luck.” She scowled, while I fought not to smile; being kept out of one of the most important libraries in our world must have nearly driven her mad. I wondered how Padma had received permission, then... Dumbledore must have vouched for her.

“Aren’t you doing some research thesis for the Stonehenge University?” I asked, naming one of the colleges those who wished for most academic study could go to. Hermione had chosen to do a research topic so she could work at the same time. “Surely that means you’d be allowed in?”

She shook her head. “I’m only doing a Bronze Familiar, a research topic equal to a Muggle degree. Anything I need for that standard is in a less important library. Now if I was doing a Golden Familiar, equal to a Muggle PhD, then I’d be allowed in. But that’ll take me a few years yet, and I don’t think we have that much time.” She smiled crookedly.

I sighed. “At least you tried. All I know is that something’s going to happen. Lavender and Severus are almost positive, and I think even Dumbledore suspects something in his own way.”

My voice must have sounded frustrated, as Hermione’s eyes widened. “Harry, did something happen between you and Dumbledore?”

“He’s losing his marbles,” I sighed, resisting the urge to tug at my hair. “Or it looks like he is. Something’s wrong anyway, and other people are starting to notice. But no one’s willing to bring it up with him, since mood-swings are the newest effect to hit him.” I rubbed my eyes.

“What?” she cried, but went silent as a polite knock sounded on the door. I rose to open it and the waiter came in, precariously balancing a large tray in his hands. He went out again after putting the plates before us, saying he’d only be a moment, and I sank back into my chair. I opened my mouth, but she shook her head, indicating that we were both to remain silent until the door was closed again.

“Thank you,” we chorused to the waiter as he placed glasses before us. He smiled and left, shutting the door softly after him.

Hermione, not surprisingly, looked seriously upset at the news of Dumbledore’s illness (could it really be called that?). We talked for several minutes on the subject, me trying to describe his symptoms as best I could. She as extremely troubled, promising to look into it and see if she could find anything. It was the best news concerning Dumbledore that I’d heard in a long while.

We then went onto the topic that I’d originally come here to talk about — Lavender and everything else that was happening. Hermione stared at me in alarm when I described how she’d been attacked, and looked downright worried when I explained that Dumbledore just didn’t seem concerned with finding the attacker.

“It’s like he’s just not interested in anything anymore,” I said in frustration, glaring down at my plate. “And he’s so tired and becoming so bloody forgetful — but no one’s doing anything! Were the staff always this passive?”

Hermione frowned, absently chewing a forkful of rice. “I don’t know, Harry,” she said slowly after swallowing. “It seems to be me like everyone is starting to pick up on the fact that things aren’t right. None of them know about The Order, if Dumbledore was being truthful about that, but I think they’re realising something is being kept from them. Lavender is definitely becoming suspicions, but the fact she’s a Seer means that can’t be helped. Dumbledore really should have told her in the first place — I’ve a feeling she could have had many visions that could be helpful.” I made a mental note to ask her when I got back.

“What about Callidus?” I asked hesitantly, not sure if bringing him up was such a good idea. “Lavender is convinced that he’s dangerous.”

Hermione’s expression visibly tightened; I knew she’d been sending Callidus many books in the months since they’d met. “I think she’s only looking for someone to blame and Callidus is the ideal choice,” she said, amazingly managing to keep her voice low and calm. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to.

“I know it’s stupid, but they are going to blame him,” I sighed, absently poking my fork into the salmon I'd ordered. “I’d bet anything that they secretly fear he’s going to continue Voldemort’s work. Idiots.”

“Not from their point of view,” Hermione muttered, looking depressed. Then she asked, “How did you manage to get permission from Dumbledore to come here?”

I shifted in my seat. “I... erm... didn’t, exactly.”

“Harry!” she cried, appalled.

“I was afraid he’d refuse,” I explained, picking up my knife and cutting a wedge of salmon. “He’s got that bad lately.” I popped the wedge into my mouth, chewing. Ah, comfort food was good, even if it was fish.

“That’s still no excuse,” she berated me, sounding like she was thirteen again. “He’s going to be furious when you get back.”

I shrugged. “Severus said he’d help me. It took some convincing for Padma to believe that I had Dumbledore’s permission, though.”

“Padma?” Hermione’s voice sounded odd.

“The one and only,” I said dryly, looking up from my fish. “Why?”

She visibly hesitated, nibbling her lip. “I’ve been hearing some odd things about her at work,” she explained at last.

“Odd things?” I raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

She shook her head. “I’m not really sure — they don’t make a lot of sense. But be careful around her, Harry. I don’t think anyone knows exactly what she did during the war, not really.”

I frowned, thinking. Not that she mentioned it, I only rarely saw Padma during the war. I’d always assumed it was because she’d been posted somewhere else. “Well, she’s not going back to Hogwarts with me today, anyway. She’s been allowed into the main archives, so I doubt she’ll go back at all tonight.” Hermione scowled at the mention of Padma being allowed into the archives, and I quickly changed the subject.

We talked about normal, everyday things for the rest of the meal, in which I learned Hermione was so desperate for Ron to pop the question that she was deliberating over whether or not to do it herself. The thought of the two of them being engaged jarred me a lot more than I’d thought it would — they were only twenty-three, after all — but it also made sense, a lot of sense. But more than anything all I could feel was an inexplicable sense of loss, that the two of them were moving on with their lives and I was, somehow, being left behind. Engaged led on to marriage, which eventually led on to children. I couldn’t picture Ron as a dad, no matter how hard I tried. Ron could hardly take care of himself at times, never mind a child!

Again I knew I’d have to tell everyone about Severus and me, and sooner rather than later. Everyone still thought I was the young bachelor living up the single life, and I had the nasty feeling Mrs. Weasley was planning on being matchmaker during the summer, something Severus probably wouldn’t appreciate.

I was still thinking about it upon Apparating to Hogsmeade. After stopping into Honeydukes for Fudge Flies for Brandy, a couple of Chocolate Frogs for myself, and Sugar Quills for Severus (he had absolutely no sense of adventure when it came to sweet stuff, save myself), I started up towards Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione still on my mind. Perhaps if they hadn’t been I would have realised something was wrong sooner, but that’s beside the point.

The moment I walked inside I was met with the nervous chatter of students in the Great Hall, the chatter punctuated with brittle laughter edged with fear. Many of them went silent when they spotted me, which only left me feeling confused. What was going on?

My confusion wasn’t helped when Severus came towards me, gripped me by the arm, and dragged me out of the Hall again. “What’s going on?” I hissed, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. “Ow, slow down!”

“I’ll explain when we get to Dumbledore’s,” he muttered, his jaw tight. I realised then that he looked afraid.

McGonagall was sitting by the desk when we came in, looking pale and strained. Dumbledore was stroking Fawkes absently, his face troubled. “What’s going on?” I asked, looking back and forth between them. “What’s happened?”

“Sit down, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly.

I sat, clutching the Honeydukes bag tightly in my hands. I remembered that I hadn’t asked for his permission, and I went slightly cold. But that didn’t explain why the students looked near hysteria. “Look, if it’s about today, I’ll explain—”

“No, it’s not that,” McGonagall blurted. I realised with horror that she was wringing her hands, a sight that looked so blatantly out of place it was extremely worrying. “It’s—” Her voice cracked and she went silent.

I went still. “Has someone died?” I asked, my voice far too soft. “Was there an accident?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, not exactly.”

“Then what—” I began.

“Callidus and Neal have disappeared,” Severus interrupted, his voice flat and hard. I found it vaguely amusing that he was the only one able to calmly tell me what had happened. “No one’s seen them today and there’s a strong indication that they could have run away.” His expression told me quite clearly what he thought of that. “We realised it today when Callidus never showed up for the Quidditch Final.”

The Final between Gryffindor and Slytherin should have been today. I’d left partly for that reason, since I knew if I’d gone I wouldn’t have been able to make a choice between the two. It seemed I shouldn’t have bothered.

I felt numb, unable to move, or speak, or even twitch. Breathing was a terrible trial. “What — why — but—” I stumbled over the words, hardly able to think straight.

Severus took a step towards me, a hand outstretched. “Harry...”

I held up my hands, silently telling him to stay away. “I need time to think,” I said flatly, struggling even to do that properly. I rose, almost letting the bag fall from my lap. “I presume there are searches?”

He nodded. “A new one’s starting in a while, if the present one comes back with nothing,” he said quietly.

“I’ll join that one,” I said, surprised at the distance in my voice. Then, without another word, I turned and left the room, letting them stare after me.

I walked quickly through the halls, my thoughts a frantic jumble impossible to patiently sort through. I knew without a doubt that the two boys hadn’t run away — neither of them had any reason to, even Callidus. Besides, he’d consider running away the coward’s option.

As I walked, all I could really think was that I’d failed him. I’d promised to look out for him, to give him help when he needed it, and when he did I wasn’t there. When the chips were down, I hadn’t been there for him when he’d needed me.

I felt like a fool.

It took me a moment to realise I was unconsciously walking towards my old rooms, and stopped. Then, after a moment’s deliberation, I continued walking. I needed someplace to be alone, where no one would follow me. With the exception of Brandy and perhaps Severus, no one would think to find me there. Shaking my head as if to rid myself of the horrible thoughts and fears lurking there, I practically ran through the halls.

I paused only long enough to activate the wards on the doors and windows, before collapsing onto my old bed. It felt lumpy and unfamiliar, so accustomed I now was to Severus’s one. Before I allowed any of the fears — Were the two boys all right? Who’d taken them? Were they even alive? — to take control and keep me awake, I fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

* * * * *

 

Severus stared down at his wand held in his hand, finally realising that his knuckles were white. He relaxed his grip, before slipping it back into his belt, taking a deep breath. He’d promised Dumbledore he’d join the search, but he knew it wasn’t likely that they’d find them.

He wasn’t overly concerned about the Aurum boy; he was a Gryffindor and therefore Minerva’s responsibility. But Callidus... Callidus was different. It wasn’t just because he was his Head of House, though that was part of it. He knew the others had expected him to keep Callidus under control just because he was a Slytherin, but he didn’t give a damn about what they thought, really.

No, he felt responsible for Callidus because he’d promised the boy that he’d watch out for him. Granted. this promise had been made the previous September, before Callidus had clashed with a certain Harry Potter, but lately Callidus had been taking him at his word. He’d never actually come to him, asking him to watch out for him. but Severus had realised Callidus had been hoping he would do it.

On thing was certain: neither of them had run away. Students just didn’t run from Hogwarts, it never happened, simple as that. Someone had taken them, of that Severus was positive. And he didn’t have to be a genius to know who, even though the circumstances were impossible.

There was just the matter of convincing Dumbledore, which wouldn’t be easy. The old man seemed to be in a world of his own, lately... He shoved away the old worries that rapidly came back to gnaw at his mind. No use thinking about them right now. He had other things to worry about, things that temporarily took precedence.

Severus sighed. Minerva had been testy with him all morning, clearly believing Callidus to have masterminded the whole event. He couldn’t blame her for this assumption: Callidus was obviously the stronger of the two. Though not as dumb and much more pleasant, Aurum was the reincarnate of Neville Longbottom in every other respect: nervous, stammering, cowardly.

But Harry... Harry’s reaction was the most worrying. He’d basically crumbled when he’d learned of the boys’ disappearance, withdrawing completely into himself. Anytime Severus had tried to talk to him he’d been ignored, but he suspected Harry was so lost in his own thoughts that he couldn’t hear him. Severus had never seen Harry react like this, not even in the war. It worried him a lot more than he wanted to admit. Now was not the time for weakness.

It was like Harry blamed himself, though that was hardly logical. He couldn’t have known for a moment that this would happen. No one could have known this would happen.

Severus wished he knew what to do.

He considered the possibility of shoving another potion down Harry’s throat, but quickly dismissed it. It was unlikely Harry would even take it, never mind allow someone to pour it down his throat. Besides, he’d already taken so many potions lately... even Severus knew when someone was taking too many. Harry had gone way beyond his limit, so far he probably didn’t even know what his limit was anymore. And there was no significant improvement, either. But, of course, no amount of reasoning would get through to him. Sometimes he wondered how he coped at all.

Severus sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps he’d allowed himself to believe things would calm down after Voldemort’s demise. He should have known better. Evil never stopped or took a break. No matter which current Evil Lord was defeated, there was always another waiting in the shadows. Things had been like this before, during the years before Voldemort’s first ascent to power. A sort of tense waiting, with the people holding the knowledge frantically working behind the scenes to keep it from the public. But it hadn’t stopped Voldemort, had it?

This time things would be different. They had to be.

He reached for his cloak, settling it around his shoulders. Part of him didn’t want to join the search, the part of him that wanted to stay with Harry. But his common sense knew that no matter how important Harry was to him, this was more than just a simple search for two boys. Something else was happening, something far more dangerous.

Making sure his knife and wand were secure in his belt, Severus reached into a pocket and clutched the little wolf, squeezing it tightly as he closed his eyes for a moment. Taking several deep breaths, he tightened his self-control. This was not the time to panic. He couldn’t, wouldn’t lose control, even when things were going very, very wrong.

The door opened, causing him to whirl around, mistakenly believing it was Harry. Few others, save for Dumbledore, dared to enter his rooms. Once his brain had confirmed what his eyes were seeing, his hand moved in a blur. Before he realised it, he’d pointed his wand at her. She stayed silent. Rather smart.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. He had no idea how she’d managed to come back, but that particular deliberation was for another time.

“Language, Severus.” He snarled. She laughed. “I didn’t think you’d fallen quite so far. Mind you... sleeping with a twenty-two year old. Satan most likely has your place reserved.”

“Speak for yourself, Catherine,” Severus hissed, his wand never wavering.

Veronique’s pleasant, mocking expression disappeared. She took a step into the room, her face now deliberately blank. He felt his stomach churn, but held his ground. “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.”

“What? Can’t bear to remember your roots?” Severus asked, knowing he was a fool for baiting her, but not really caring at the moment.

Her eyes narrowed. “Bit rich coming from you, isn’t it?” she snapped. “I don’t think either of us are going to forget your father anytime soon.”

“This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you,” he said smoothly, his face hard. “I know you were a typical angst-ridden teenager who hated herself, but changing your name and using glamour? That’s a bit much, even for you.”

The first flickers of hate appeared on Veronique’s face. “You know absolutely nothing about me. I’ve changed, Severus, as have you. Only you’re gone to bed with someone young enough to be your son. Do you really want to get back at James that badly?”

“My debt to James is paid,” he snarled. “This has nothing to do with it.” But he could hear a note of doubt in his voice and started inwardly cursing.

“Nothing to do with it?” Veronique echoed, throwing back her head and letting out a wild laugh. “Severus, you’re having sex with his son. If that’s not holding a grudge, I don’t know what is!”

He didn’t reply, merely stood there and kept his wand pointed at her. But the expression on his face was unforgiving. Veronique had gone too far, even if she didn’t realise it yet.

“Instead of throwing stones at me,” he said, taking a step forward, “let’s talk about you, Catherine. You talk about my ‘grudge’ as if it’s my weakness. But you’ve changed your name and used glamour. Someone who’s comfortable with herself wouldn’t do that.”

Veronique’s eyes hardened. “I’ve changed everything for more important reasons than what I think of myself. Reasons that you can’t imagine.”

“Try me. Ex-Death Eater here, remember?” Severus said. “You’ve done something dangerous, Catherine, something very dangerous. That’s the only reason you would have changed yourself beyond recognition.” He glared. “What have you done?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Liar.” Severus took another step forward, his patience rapidly dwindling. “I’ve sensed that power from you, power that doesn’t belong and shouldn’t be in you!”

“It’s mine now.” She tilted her face, her expression almost amused. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that perhaps it’s meant to be mine?”

He snorted. “Hardly.” His face tightened. “But it pales in significance to what you’ve done to Dumbledore.”

She laughed. “Who says I’ve done anything to him?”

Severus hissed. “Don’t play games with me! I recognise your work.”

Veronique shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It all ends now.”

Severus felt his eyebrows shoot up. Way up. “Excuse me?”

“What do you think of the name I chose?” She smiled.

He spoke without thinking. “I think it came out of a Muggle romance novel, and you were probably drunk when you chose it.” The moment he said it, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

Her lips quirked. “But it has its uses.” She reached into her robes and pulled out her wand. Severus’s grip tightened on his own. “Relax,” she said dryly, “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

He ignored her advice. He wasn’t going to start believing her now. He watched as she quickly started sketching her surname in the air, the letters glowing softly.

“Do you speak French, Severus?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Well then, we’ll solve that.” She waved her wand once, as the letters began to separate and twist into English.

He didn’t realise what they immediately meant, but when he did he was literally struck dumb. He stood there, staring at the glowing words with his jaw hanging open. It took him several tries before he was able to speak.

“You, bitch.”

Veronique smiled. “Thank you for your time, Severus.” She lifted her wand.

Then the spell hit him and he knew no more.

 

* * * *

 

The smells of the forest hit me unexpectantly and I snorted, mist billowing from my nostrils as I automatically sorted through the smells. Pine, earth, fox-musk, rabbits, and in the distance the heavier scents of the mythical creatures. I picked up the spiders, centaurs and unicorns before I stopped, eager to get on with my hunt.

I picked my way through the undergrowth carefully, nose to the ground, trying to pick up a scent that had become too familiar in the last few months. I growled as time passed and I found nothing. Somewhere deep inside an instinct knew he was here, he had to be. I just wasn’t looking hard enough.

I skirted around the territory of wild Crups, my mind showing me memories of old clashes with them; they were animals best to avoid unless I was actually looking for a fight. After hours of careful tracking, I finally found something.

Callidus’s cool, dark scent curled around my nostrils, making me snort and resist the urge to shake my head. I knew it as well as I knew Severus’s: he was close by. But two other scents were mixed with his — a flat one that reeked of deception and corruption; a fainter weary one with a faded gentleness attached to it. I snarled, trying to decipher them properly and falling. My wolf part wasn’t equipped to do so and my human part was just confused.

The flat scent only took a few minutes to remember: it belonged to Veronique. But the other one... my mind offered me flashes of a memory I could only vaguely recall, and they weren’t enough. I growled, snapping at grass in an attempt to vent frustration without actually going and killing anything. I wasn’t hungry; killing game needlessly wasn’t a smart thing to do.

Then stronger scents hit me so suddenly I staggered back a step, shaking my head furiously. Instincts swelled inside me, baying for the chance to hunt and kill. My human part clamped down on them, frantically trying to bring them back under control. It was a struggle; the scents were growing even stronger and more overpowering.

Blood. I smelled blood. My own, but not my own.

Now frightened, I flung back my head and howled a warning for those around me.

Evil lurked here.

 

I woke up so suddenly that I nearly fell off the bed, clinging desperately to the frame as I dangled precariously. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and made thinking a difficult activity. I struggled to make sense of my surroundings, why everything had turned upside down, and why I felt ready to scream.

It took several moments of deep breathing for my nerves to calm and my head to clear enough that I was able to haul myself back into the bed. I lay there for a moment, my hands over my eyes, trying to make sense of a dream rapidly fading from memory. As far as I could remember I’d been in Animagus form. That was odd; I’d never been a wolf much in my dreams before.

Though the images were fading away, the emotions they evoked didn’t do the same. My stomach was still clenched painfully; my palms were still sweaty. My heart still hadn’t calmed down enough that my heartbeat wasn’t booming in my ears. Instead of feeling reasonably better, I felt, well, like shit, really. In typical fashion, sleeping hadn’t helped me when I’d really wanted it to.

I’d never get back to sleep in this state. Sighing, I wearily swung my legs off the bed and sat up, the beginnings of a rather strong headache starting to pound at my temples. My throat felt like it had barbed wire lodged back there, and the rest of me generally felt like it had been rubbed repeatedly with sandpaper. Spending a spontaneous year with Muggles really had improved my vocabulary... sort of.

It took a few moments of careful rubbing for my temples to ease their throbbing slightly, but then I gradually remembered what had happened and why I was in bed so early: Callidus and Neal had disappeared. I groaned, cradling my face with my hands.

McGonagall had told me again and again that there was nothing I could have done and Severus had asked me how it could have been my fault, but they were wrong. I’d promised Callidus I’d look out for him, he’d wanted me to, and I’d messed up again. I’d left Hogwarts knowing that something wasn’t right. I’d abandoned Callidus when he’d needed me the most.

And Neal... oh God. The boy was quiet, and kind, and generous, but hopelessly subservient in the worst way. He simply couldn’t stand up for himself and the other students tended to take advantage of this, roping him into their schemes and ideas before he could even consider saying no. This was one of the reasons Callidus had started tutoring him: he’d intended to subtly help Neal grow a backbone. And when the smartest — and most feared — boy was friends with him, people tended to leave Neal alone.

They blamed Callidus. They probably secretly thought he’d run away and forced Neal to come with him. I could see it in McGonagall’s eyes and I knew Severus was inwardly furious that she thought so. And this would give the students and teachers who disliked Callidus the opportunity to verbally run him into the ground, now that he wasn’t here to defend himself.

I had to find them. I had to.

I yanked on shoes, stared down at them for a moment, then reached for a pair of boots. It was far too warm to wear them, but if I was going to join the search I needed all the help I could get. Wearing shoes into the forest was not going to be particularly helpful. Reaching for a light emerald-green over-robe I hauled it on, buttoning and tying it quickly. Staggering to my feet, I struggled to get my mind back into working order, rubbing sleep from my eyes before slipping on my glasses.

I stared at my wand as I picked it up, absently rolling the battered wood in my hands, thinking. Even with my wand I still felt under-protected, as if I was just holding my arms out for an attacker. I frowned. One of the lessons that we hadn’t seem to be able to learn was that whoever this Order was, they didn’t stop at magic. They used physical violence as well, as Lavender’s attacker had proved. Maybe the only way to fight fire really was with fire.

I slipped my wand into my outer pocket, wanting every advantage I could get; putting it in my belt only complicated things and wasted time. Hesitating for a moment, I went to my trunk, silently breaking the magical locks and pushing it open. I still wasn’t sure why I’d left this particular trunk in my old rooms, instead of hauling it to Severus’s along with everything else. Sometimes I felt like it was connected to everything I just didn’t want to remember.

It only took a few minutes of rummaging for me to find it. I stared down at the red leather scabbard in my hand, my eyes silently following the gold and white stitching in the leather. To this day I still couldn’t remember who’d given it to me.

I stood up, closing the trunk and replacing the magical seals on it. Taking a deep breath, I pulled out the dagger. The steel shone dully in the dusk light from my window, but I knew it was still as sharp as ever. If I was attacked, as unlikely as it seemed, no one would expect Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding world, to have a dagger on him.

I knew I was accepting some part of me that I’d subconsciously tried to ignore by taking this dagger with me. I’d killed people with this... I’d tried to kill myself with this.

This level of paranoia was surprising even to me. There was no logical reason for it, except for the fact I was one of only a few people who believed two boys had been abducted inside of having run away. Thinking of it like that, no wonder I felt so twitchy.

Chewing my lip, I tried to think of a place to put the dagger and scabbard that wouldn’t alarm anyone. My belt was too obvious, my boots not big enough. At last I settled on the small of my back. It took a few moments to yank out that part of my shirt and let it hang to cover any disturbance caused to my jeans. I placed the scabbard inside my jeans, struggling to properly clip it into place, before yanking my shirt over it.

I wasn’t happy that I was out of practise with it. If something did happen — and my jumpy mind was fairly certain something would — I’d have to roll or twist for an adequate distraction so I’d be able to get it out in time. There was nothing else I could do.

I refused to think about the possibility that we wouldn’t find either of the boys and meet no disturbance. I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

The pain in my head was worsening. I grimly walked to my bedside locker, pulling open the small door to where I kept my potions. I wearily selected one of Severus’s and popped the cork. I grimaced, before resignedly swallowing it. None of them seemed to be working and the headaches were only getting worse, not to mention all the other aches and pains I seemed to be rapidly accumulating. I decided then and there to go to Poppy after this search was over. I was getting sick of always having a sore head, no pun intended. Even hangovers were better than constant pain.

The click of my door opening made me freeze. I’d put up my wards, hadn’t I? Wait, it was probably Severus — the spells automatically recognised him. I turned, a smile flickering across my lips, before it promptly died.

Veronique stood in the doorway, her wand pointed at me. She was smiling.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I yelled, my mind trying to frantically come up with explanations that couldn’t make sense anyway. How had she come back? Why hadn’t anyone told us? And more to the point, why was she here? Judging by her triumphant expression, I knew it wasn’t good.

My hand was already around my wand (when had my reflexes improved this much?), dragging it out, but I was still too slow and she had too much of an advantage.

The stunning spell hit me with deadly accuracy and I was falling, my mind struggling to fight against the red waves shutting it down. As the darkness curled around me, my last conscious thought held only for a moment before it disappeared into the blackness.

How did she get in?