The next morning, Harry left his rooms feeling oddly giddy, but went about his business as normal, not letting anything show on his face. It was for this reason that he'd decided to leave earlier for breakfast than he usually did, if this is what he was feeling, he couldn't imagine what Draco must be feeling after Harry had finally given in to his advances. This by no means meant anything permanent, the mateship hasn't been completed yet. If they were humans, this would be more like a courtship.

Harry sat regally at the center of the Slytherin dining table, a paper in one hand and a fork with diced potatoes speared on the prongs in the other. He mindlessly forked food into his mouth as he gave the paper most of his attention, only stopping occasionally to refill an emptied portion of his plate. Since leaving the Dursleys' 'care', it took Harry quite a while to regain his appetite, and once he had, it took even longer to stop gorging on the food he was given like it was his last meal.

When a flash of white hair at the entryway caught Harry's attention, he only took a moment to appreciate the sight of the blonde—quickly striding down the rows of tables towards him with a slight halo of light around his head when he passed windows of streaming morning light—before returning to a particularly interesting article.

The article detailed several suspicious meetings Lucius Malfoy had supposedly held with other suspected Deatheaters and Voldemort supporters. The lack of evidence was atrocious, but Harry knew that whenever the blasted fear-mongers mentioned 'Voldemort' and 'Malfoys' together, the wizarding populace was bound to believe it. In Harry's opinion, they're all a bunch of duffers for believing such shite.

Draco slid onto the bench next to Harry, sitting close enough for their shoulders and legs to be touching. Harry didn't mind, in fact, he felt a tension he hadn't noticed before melt away, leaving him relaxed and content. When Draco saw what Harry had been reading, he huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes.

"That bloody paper could say that my father was part fish under his robes and the whole damn world would believe it! All a bunch of tossers if you ask me." Draco grumbled under his breath.

Harry cast a wandless silencing spell around them, keeping any curious ears from picking up parts of their conversation.

"You don't think your father is in support of, or working for, Voldemort?" Harry asked curiously. He'd known before this, that even if Lucius is still an active Deatheater, he would still like to discuss business with him. Over the summer, Harry had uncovered some very peculiar things that led him to believe that Voldemort was not his greatest threat. Not that Harry's all go for team-V, the psychopath is still a mass murderer and completely off his trolley, but not everything is as clear cut as it used to be. Harry can't take anything Dumbledore has told him at face value anymore, which means everything is still mostly up in the air right now until he can pin it down with outside evidence.

"Of course not! Yes, he made some very stupid mistakes in his youth, but he has been unwillingly bound to that nutter for so long that he would rather cut off his own arm, dark mark and all, than serve that lunatic any longer. Despite what people think, a dark mark isn't inescapable." Draco lifted his chin slightly into the air, looking utterly spiteful, and in Harry's eyes, adorable.

"Really? And how did he manage to get out of it? Because last time I checked, he most certainly had both arms." Harry smiled at Draco indulgently, now thoroughly curious. Harry distantly noticed the rest of their Slytherin group sitting down across from them and around them.

"Izaki magic is very powerful, and should not be underestimated." Draco winked and began to eat his breakfast, looking rather pleased with himself for saying something that impressed Harry.

"So I take it your parents already know?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, they were quite proud when my inheritance came, actually. Izaki inheritances' among pureblood lines have been revered for an exceptionally long time. Though less common these days, it is considered a symbol of power and status for a family if their child becomes an Izaki. Dark creature or not, any sort of power gain that is an advantage to the family is considered a good thing." Harry thought he saw Draco puff up a little as he spoke, and he found it terribly endearing.

"Have you told them about me yet?" Harry didn't let the anticipation leak into his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to look the blond in the eye as he spoke. Instead he forked some more eggs into his mouth.

"I've told them that I have found a prospective mate, but not who. I would not tell them such a thing without discussing it with you beforehand. It is my role as the Dominant to make sure that you come first in everything that I do, even before family." Draco declared confidently, as if there was no doubt in his mind that this is exactly what he wanted. Harry's chest swelled with approval and he couldn't help smiling to himself.

Harry canceled the silencing bubble around them as he folded his paper. Once the noise of the dining hall flooded in around them, Harry finally gave notice to the others around them as he began to politely devour the rest of his food. Blaise and Pansy were both watching them suspiciously, while Theo was more concerned with The Daily Prophet. Harry ignored the others' pointed looks and continued eating.

Just as Harry was finishing off the rest of his breakfast, a snow white owl glided elegantly down from the rafters and softly dropped a brown paper wrapped package in front of Harry. He smiled at Hedwig and the large bird flew off after filching a piece of buttered toast right from Draco's hand. Harry unwrapped what appeared to be a book with no title. He curiously cracks the slightly aged cover open and the first and only line written in sharp scrawl on the first page stopped him dead.

To Harry, may you find the answers that I could not . . .

-Padfoot

Harry gently closed the handwritten book and slipped it into his book bag. His chest tightened painfully as memories of his deceased godfather resurfaced in his mind. Sirius's death was still fresh and raw in Harry's head. Afterwards, Harry was almost inconsolable and everyone had turned away from the display of such grief. They hadn't wanted to see their precious hero fall apart like that, so vulnerable and human.

Immediately after Sirius's death, he'd blamed himself for everything that was happening, for all of the people around him who'd been hurt. It was with this guilt and grief that he'd been left at the mercy of the Dursley's. For a while, Harry had truly believed that he deserved it.

Draco suddenly grabbed Harry's hand under the table and gave it a tight squeeze. Harry looked up at Draco's face, realizing that Draco had noticed his quick change in demeanor and looked quite concerned. Though he hid it well so that the others wouldn't pick up on it. Harry swept his thumb over Draco's knuckles twice in return.

"I'll tell you later, but right now I need to check this out privately." Harry said in a hushed tone. Draco nodded once and Harry got up and left without another word. Draco trusted Harry and knew that, right now, he needed to be alone to sort through whatever was happening. Even if his Izaki side was screaming at him to track down whatever was causing Harry such distress and to dispose of it permanently. Preferably with fire.

Harry didn't open the book again for the rest of the day. He knew that it contained something Padfoot had wanted him to know, but only after his death, only unless he couldn't tell him in person. Which means, whatever Sirius had written in that book would most likely be very hard to read and something he'd wanted to keep from Harry for as long as possible. So instead Harry kept the book in his bag and went to all of his classes for the day.

Draco hadn't tried to coax him into conversation or to get him to really do anything all day. Harry was endlessly grateful for Draco's patience and understanding. His and Draco's relationship—if that's the right word for it—was still so new, but the way they reacted to each other, the way they understood nonverbally exactly what the other needed, it made things much easier between them. They were still far off from being mates, but for some divine or mundane reason, they just fit together. It was like sleeping in a bed you've slept in your entire life but have no memory of it; it was so familiar yet everything felt new.

In early evening, when Harry and Draco had returned to the dorms together, Draco had offered to stay with Harry when he finally read it. He wanted to be there for when Harry exploded, to comfort his little demon, but Harry politely declined. Draco kissed Harry's forehead gently and left him in front of his door to go into his own room.

Once inside, Harry cast several protection and privacy spells on his room before sitting down at his desk and gently taking the leather bound book out of his bag. Harry sat for nearly twenty minutes, just staring at that first page, his eyes tracing each letter and committing the scrawl to memory.

Harry finally lifted his hand from under the table and turned the page. . .

Apparently Harry wasn't the only one to question the Headmaster and do a little digging.

By the time Harry had finished the book—having never set it down once he'd began reading—Harry was cold with shock and confusion. The other half of the puzzle had just been given to him, a few pieces were still missing, but it was enough. Enough to twist and rip at his insides. Enough to grind his teeth. Enough to dig his fingernails into his palms. Enough to make him tremble with scorching fury.

Then it finally happened. Like the popping of aching joints, his collecting magic erupted from just under his skin. He could hear things exploding and shattering all around him, floor boards groaned with the strain and the walls shook with the effort to contain it. It was like a magical bomb had gone off inside of his room. A moment later, his door flew open behind him and his senses were flooded with the presence of Draco.

When Draco spun him around, Harry saw that he was in full Izaki form. Draco leaned in and he scanned for any physical harm to Harry or threat still in the room. When he looked back at Harry, he slowly raised his head to look at him and Draco was stunned by the red rimmed, watery emerald eyes that locked on his. Draco's Izaki features melted away and he cupped the sides of Harry's face gently. Harry gripped Draco's wrists tightly, but didn't push them away, instead he closed his eyes and several tears glided down his smooth porcelain cheeks. Such a sight felt like knives in Draco's chest with each exhale.

He leaned forward slowly and as gently as a shallow exhale, Draco kissed each of Harry's eyelids, catching falling tears on his lips. Lastly, Draco pressed a long, firm kiss to Harry's forehead, closing his own eyes. When he felt Harry finally release a shuddering exhale, he pulled Harry close, pressing the side of his face against his chest with one hand softly carding through the short curly hair on the back of Harry's head with the opposite arm wrapping around Harry's back protectively.

Draco had experienced a couple of short relationships before, consisting mostly of summer flings borne of boredom. He knew that there was a general timeline for how one was supposed to act around the other person, steps and milestones in the relationship with controlled boundaries, but it wasn't the same with Harry. The weeks they'd spent not despising or trying to kill each other didn't erase their past together, instead it seemed to fuel what was budding between them.

You cannot feel that passionately about someone and have it all just disappear because the circumstances have changed. No, those feelings have not been lost, they've just evolved. Draco feels like he knows everything about Harry, and yet, nothing at all. He can read Harry as though he was staring at his reflection, picking up on every glimmer of expression and he knew that Harry could do it to. So with Harry, the steps couldn't be applied in the same way.

They didn't have long conversations about what they were feeling because the other person already knew, and was taking care of them or it. They didn't argue over boundaries because they were already understood; Draco had heard of Harry's activities over the last portion of the summer and he knew that Harry took his work very seriously and wouldn't allow Draco to interfere.

Besides, Harry isn't a fling, he isn't a sudden impulse induced by boredom, nor was he just the closest Izaki submissive Draco had found so he settled. He'd encountered plenty of unregistered Izaki during his travels over the summer that would have made exquisite mates, but none of them . . . fit.

It was like, every time he met one, he knew instantly what they were and a very strange sensation filled his body. They best way he can describe it is, it felt . . . bland. Like a filmy substance coated his skin as a buffer to the outside world and all of his senses dulled. He only felt a basic connection through species, and nothing else.

Though, when he first encountered Harry at summers end, on the Hogwarts Express, it was like he suddenly wasn't drowning. His world exploded with color and all he could see was glowing leaf green eyes and plump lips stained by phantom berries. The air was intoxicatingly warm and the indescribable scent in the air melted his insides like butter.

Around Harry, Draco felt more clear-headed than ever in his life and he knows, whether they're together or apart, Draco would give Harry the world if he asked. Draco would rip the stars from the sky just to see Harry smile again. He knows that Harry might think that he's not serious about courting him, about spending the rest of their lives bonded together, but after spending so much time together and getting to know the man behind the Izaki inheritance, he knows that even if this inheritance had never happened, his feelings towards Harry would have been inevitable. It would have perhaps taken him longer to realize, but the truth of it is inescapable.

So Draco, heart aching, held Harry tighter and whispered these gentle truths into his ear to pull Harry back to him, to ease him out of his own mind and keep him from letting whatever had upset him from doing any more damage.

Draco had for the most part succeeded in drawing him out of his head. They laid on Harry's bed for hours, Harry's head resting on Draco's shoulder as he played with the soft black curls lazily. Draco had done all of the talking to begin with, describing his inheritance and freeing his father and mother from Voldemort and what it had been like to be around Harry when they'd returned from the summer. He even talked a bit about the other Izakis he'd met, what they'd been like and what they'd taught him.

Eventually Harry joined in and talked about his summer after his inheritance. Draco was curious about the part where Harry moved in to the Potter estate in Wales. He'd always figured that Harry had lived there to begin with along with his relatives. Draco wanted to know where he'd lived before, but since Harry wasn't being forthcoming about the information, he wasn't going to ask and make Harry uncomfortable when he'd been so upset not that long ago.

Then, when they ran out of things to talk about, they simply laid there, staring up at the dark green fabric canopy. Harry's not sure how long they were submerged in the quiet stillness of the small hours of morning, but suddenly his mouth opened and words were flowing out.

"It was a journal of sorts, from Sirius. I'm guessing he had orders in his will to have it sent out after his . . . departure. I'm not sure why it came so late." Harry's voice sounded placid, a bit distanced from the entire matter as he spoke. "Sirius had been collecting information, small things that he thought didn't add up. A lot of it has to do with Dumbledore." Harry stopped himself before he got worked up again.

"It was you wasn't it? The one who gave Dumbledore the figurative arse-kicking of his life. Good on you!" Draco pulled Harry tighter and poked him in the side. Harry couldn't help but smile and roll his eyes in response. He knew Draco was trying to cheer him up a little, to try and distract him. Honestly, though, if Draco's distraction techniques involved more proximity and touching, Harry was all for it. Though, it didn't do much to take away the pitted feeling in Harry's gut.

After that, Draco helped Harry clean up his room. Draco was actually impressed by the amount of magic accidentally released in Harry's rage, usually magic is very hard to produce under duress. Especially if your conduit is your body itself rather than a wand.

Harry crouched down in front of the twisted, lens-less glasses that had been blown off amidst all of the chaos. He thought for a moment about repairing them, but thought better of it and simply tossed them aside. Once everything of value was picked up off of the floor and put back in its rightful place, Harry took care of the rubbish still covering the floor around the room. He swept his hand around him in a complete circle and as his hand passed, the rubbish floated up off of the ground and converged into a spinning ball as if drawn in by a magnet.

Once it was all collected into one spot, Harry was about to vanish it when his crumpled, pathetic glasses caught his eye amongst the ball of other broken things. Harry rolled his eyes at his own sentimentality and quickly freed the broken spectacles before the ball was vanished into oblivion. He repaired them with a quick, silent spell and tossed them into one of his desk drawers.

He may not need them to see anymore, but they were a reminder. A reminder of all of the things he's faced and survived over the years while human. His inheritance doesn't erase his past, it's just given him the ability to change his future. He's still the same Harry Potter he was before, he's not darker or crueler because he turned into a 'dark creature', it's just that now he has a knife in his hand and he won't be timid about using it.

Harry and Draco got back onto the bed once everything was clean. Harry tucked his head down against Draco's chest while Draco's gentle hands soothed up and down Harry's sides. Harry breathed in Draco's scent deeply, letting it sooth him down to the marrow of his bones. Despite Harry's brain frantically trying not to process what he'd read in that book, once he was curled up in Draco's arms and surrounded by his heady scent, Harry fell off into a deep dreamless sleep.

Despite how little they actually slept, both Draco and Harry felt inexplicably well rested the next morning. When they left together for breakfast, the rest of Draco's roommates gave him a knowing look, but didn't say anything about it. Nor did they mention Draco's little disappearing act wasn't the talk of the school the next morning so Harry figured that the Slytherins who'd figured it out—at least that they were together all night—weren't spreading it all over school. Huh, well that's certainly a pleasant change! Harry thought.

They were almost to the dining hall when Severus exited a hallway in front of them without seeing the pair. Harry called out to the professor and waved him over when he turned. Severus looked slightly annoyed to be at the beck and call of Harry, which he took a small moment to revel in while the older man walked over to where they had stopped.

"Can I help you?" Snape's baritone voice rumbled in boredom and disdain, though Harry knew the man was harboring a secret growing fondness for him.

"Yes, actually. I want you to deliver this to Dumbledore before breakfast is finished." Harry held out a wax sealed note that would only reveal the actual message to Dumbledore himself. He'd written it this morning while Draco was showering. Can't have anyone knowing Harry is the one stirring the old man up. Snape raised an incredulous black brow at Harry as he slowly reached out and took the note. They were still far enough away from the hall that no students were around to see.

"And what do you suppose I tell him when he asks me why I've become your personal messenger? You may have declared your war against him, but do not forget that he thinks I am still his loyal follower." Snape intoned in a hushed voice.

"I was sort of wondering the same thing." Draco said in a surprised but unshaken tone. Harry looked up at him for the first time since Severus had walked over. "When did the two of you become so close? And does this mean you're planning on confronting Dumbledore again?" Draco looked back at Harry and all humor drained from his face, replaced by concern and mild apprehension. "He may be old, but the pensioner is quite powerful. I want to be there when you confront him."

Harry put a hand on Draco's arm, ready to pull him away as soon as he says to Severus, "Tell him you're doing it as my head of house. If he really starts to push it, flip it and say you know he's been at odds with me and you're trying to help him." Harry didn't wait from Snape's reply before he pulled Draco a good ten feet away, silently dismissing him.

"I can certainly handle myself without you there. Also, if you come it will spook him, we need to discuss things that at this moment, only he and I know. Right now I have an advantage because he thinks I've left all of my friends in Gryffindor and the Slytherins will despise me too much to actually become my friends. This way, he has no one to threaten me with." Harry said bitterly, knowing Dumbledore would still try to manipulate him if he knew how.

"You believe he's capable of that? What I mean is, I hate the bloke either way, but is this based on evidence or gut feelings?" Draco didn't sound like he was about to defend the man, so Harry relaxed a little.

"Evidence."

"That's all I needed to know. When you're ready to fill me in, I'll fully support you. Just promise me you will, at some point, tell me, alright?" Draco framed Harry's face with his large hands and brushed his thumb over Harry's cheek. Harry smiled faintly and nodded once, his hands clasped on Draco's wrists. Draco tenderly kissed Harry's forehead, lingering a moment longer than necessary, and then they pulled away and walked into breakfast together.

Dumbledore hadn't taken his eyes off of Harry since the moment he'd walked in. Harry didn't return his gaze, instead he gripped Draco's hand tightly under the table and sat as close as he could without climbing into the blonde's lap. Draco, on his part had been amazing. He'd engage Harry in conversation to distract him and when no one was looking his eyes flashed a solemn silver. Also, Draco would nose the hair behind Harry's ear, surrounding him in the amazing smell of his potential mate, knowing it was more comforting to Harry than anything else he could have done or said.

When they started class, they sat together in the far back corner so no one would pay attention to them or call on Harry while his mind was hundreds of miles away. Halfway through their last class together Harry took a turn for the worst and Draco immediately smelt the change in his emotional state—which was less strange in person than the theory of it—and could tell that Harry's anxiety was about to make him explode.

Before Harry really knew what was happening, Draco had slipped his hand into the back of his robe and under his shirt. The first thing Harry felt was the soft pads of finger tips against his spine, gentle enough to make him shiver. Then he suddenly felt the light scrape of Draco's claws against his back and it was like his mind had been switched off.

In the back of his head, Harry knew exactly what was happening. Draco was simulating the mating mark. When they—if they actually complete the mating process, they will have to put a mating mark on each other that will leave a scar, either with their claws or with a bite. Simulating a mating mark sent Harry's Izaki into a natural high, being that his Izaki will crave a mate over any other matter while such a compatible prospective mate is nearby.

Harry's mind was blissfully blank as Draco's claws gently scraped up his spine to the back of his neck and then all the way back down to the base of his spine where his trousers began. By the time class ended, Harry's head was propped up on the desk by his hand and his eyes were closed. When the last student was gone and the professor had left to go to the loo, in a flash Harry was at Draco's side with his face nuzzling into Draco's neck like a puppy, his tongue swiping out briefly to taste Draco's skin. To Harry's satisfaction, his skin tasted as good as he smelt, if not better.

"Thank you." Harry said as he pulled back reluctantly, his mind settling back into place without any of the anxiety it'd had before. Draco's pupils were blown out as his gaze met Harry's. Apparently he wasn't the only one benefiting from the Izaki mating tease. But instead of taking things even further, Draco blinked a few times and gave Harry a gentle half-smile.

Harry frowned as something dawned on him. "You had no way of knowing if that would have worked. If my Izaki hadn't accepted you as my future mate, I could have totally beast-out in the middle of class and attacked you. That was dangerous!" Harry scolded but Draco's grin only stretched wider.

"But it worked! And now I know that I can move forward with us without fearing for my life." Draco said smugly and Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Prat."

"Gorgeous." Draco retorted as he looped his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him closer.

"Git." The sharpness was lost on Draco when Harry smiled as he said it.

"Mine." The word rumbled in Draco's chest as he buried his face into the crook of Harry's neck. The ringing of high-pitched giggles caused Harry to look over at the door just as several squealing third years disappeared. Harry huffed out a laugh and pulled a reluctant Draco out of their class room before even more students popped in for revisions class and they had another fan club on their hands.

Halfway to the Slytherin dorms, Harry and Draco went their separate ways so that Harry could finally have his dreaded meeting with Dumbledore. Draco offered to wait right outside for him, but Harry refused and sent the protective Izaki on his way. The simulated mate marking must still be affecting them because Draco was acting particularly mate-like and Harry was all too tempted to take him up on the offer of Draco going in with him.

Harry waited until Draco had long since disappeared and his footsteps couldn't be heard, even with Harry's heightened hearing. Then, he turned toward the stairs that would lead him to the ground floor and outside of the school. Harry needed to get past the anti-apparition wards. First, before his chat with Dumbledore, Harry needed to take a little field trip to the Ministry of Magic.

An hour later finds Harry back at Hogwarts, elegantly ascending the moving spiral staircase into Dumbledore's office. When he gets there, Dumbledore is waiting at his large wooden desk for him. His face is scrunched in something unreadable as he glares down at the opened note on his desk. Harry glances at the past headmasters' portraits and is only mildly surprised to see them all empty.

Dumbledore didn't want a repeat performance of their last meeting, which made Harry want to grin vindictively at the old man. The school was still full of rumors about his last encounter with him. Harry didn't need an audience this time, in fact, he's glad that he doesn't have to reign in his temper to keep the portraits from questioning how defenseless Harry actually is.

The room was lit dimly by a lamp on Dumbledore's desk and a few other lamps blazing and lighting random spots in the background of his cluttered office. Harry sat smoothly in one of the leather chairs, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. Harry flashed Dumbledore a bright and slightly vicious smile as he relaxed in his chair, a performance of power as the pensioner sat ramrod straight in his chair, looking stiff.

In his note, Harry had only said that he had more to discuss with Dumbledore it would be better for them both if they were able to talk in private rather than Harry having to vent this 'overwhelming' new information to his fellow students. Included with the indirect threat was a time for their meeting.

"You said we would be meeting as soon as your classes are out, I've been waiting for over an hour." Dumbledore sounded annoyed and the red creeping up his cheeks revealed the fury that had been boiling up inside him every minute that Harry was late. Which only made Harry feel even better about taking his time at the Ministry of Magic.

"I had some things to take care of. Now, to what we came here for." Harry leaned back in his chair and watched Albus, watched the slight fidgeting as the man became more nervous as each second passed without anything being said. Silently, though, Harry was feeling out any possible recording spells or devices. When he found none that couldn't be quickly dismantled, Harry carried on.

"My late godfather, Sirius Black, was always a bit weary of you. He wasn't one to get swept up in pretenses of 'good' and 'evil'. It probably had to do the fact that you knew he was innocent, yet still allowed him to go to Azkaban without so much as a trial. You were one of the very few people who knew that Peter Pettigrew was the actual Secret Keeper of the location of my family, not Sirius. But that is for another day. After Sirius left Azkaban, he began recording things that didn't make sense about my parents' deaths. It was during this search for the truth that Sirius came across a Prophecy." Harry paused to let that all sink in. Dumbledore had tried to interrupt when he mentioned Peter, but Harry just carried on without stopping.

"Said prophecy was supposedly made by Sybill Trelawney during a job interview witnessed by yourself alone in a room above the Hogs Head Pub. It entailed some rubbish about having power Voldemort does not, a boy being born as the 'seventh month dies' with the power to defeat Voldemort and some other vague bollocks about dying. Severus at the time was still loyal to Voldemort and had followed you to the pub. He overheard the prophecy and immediately ran off to relay the news to his master, only belatedly realizing just who fit the description of the prophecy and who might be killed in the process.

"Sirius only knows what the prophecy said because he took a little trip down to the Department of Mysteries and found the record of the prophecy there. Funny thing about prophecies, as I'm sure you already know, prophecies can only be picked up and witnessed by those that the prophecy is directly related to—which was listed as me and Voldemort. If anyone else tries to touch it for too long they will turn mad and will never receive the prophecy. So . . . how exactly is it possible that Sirius not only held but witnessed the prophecy?" Albus suddenly blanched and his eyes grew slightly wider.

"Sirius wondered the same thing, so he secretly contacted Professor Trelawney and asked about the prophecy. Not only had she no memory of giving a prophecy that night, but she never went to the Department of Mysteries where she needed to have it officially recorded. Even the Unspeakable, the Department of Mysteries staff member that had supposedly created and placed the prophecy on the shelf claims she was not even there that day, she'd been in the hospital, mysteriously ill. And because the prophecy hadn't gone through the correct legal channels it was never cataloged and no one ever discovered it was a fake." Harry's expression turned dark as he watched Dumbledore squirm.

"Sirius didn't have the capabilities to prove who'd placed the prophecy on the shelf. He couldn't confirm who'd essentially forged and sealed my families' fate that night, condemning them to death. Though he had his suspicions." Harry caught the briefest flicker of relief on Dumbledore's face and it only fueled his building rage.

"Fortunately, I do. Earlier this evening I took a little field trip down to the Department of Mysteries, more specifically, the Hall of Prophecy. Thankfully all of the old placers and shelves were still there from the little commotion we'd caused last year, though there were significantly less prophecies.

"I know a spell, quite illegal but very useful in such situations, that allows the caster to see everything that happens around an object that directly affects it like a security feed, but only small objects, not floors or walls or buildings. It would have been nice to be able to cast the spell on the prophecy directly, but the stand it was on worked just as well. I watched all the way back to when my prophecy was placed and, sure enough! You were the one to place it on the shelf." Harry's eyes glinted with barely contained fury.

"I assure you Harry, you're reading to deeply into these things! There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this!" Albus argued, finally seeming to have found his voice.

"No, I won't fall for your lies. You created that prophecy. You imperioed Trelawney to 'envision' it at Hogs Head. You lead Voldemort to my parents' front door, and you took advantage of their deaths for your own gains!" Harry's voice rose to a shout as he accused the stricken-faced professor.

"That is simply not true, Harry! What reason would I have to do any of that?" Albus backpedaled. Harry had to admit, he was a good actor, the performance was quite convincing, but not enough to make Harry even hesitate.

"What reason?! That had taken me a while to figure out. What reason would a man such as yourself have for causing the death of two young parents? Then I took another look at the prophecy you'd concocted. Specific enough to sound like it was made for only one, but vague enough for you to have two possible 'chosen ones'. As it turns out, Neville Longbottom fits the prophecy just as well as I do. There was never any 'special power' I held to defeat Voldemort, I just happened to be unlucky enough cross your path.

"My guess for your reasons? Glory. You've always wanted to be the hero, the chosen one, haven't you? But no one would shower an old man in fame and riches when his glory days had already long since faded away. You couldn't be the hero again, so you chose the closest thing. The Mentor. The one who the hero looks up to, the one who made the hero who they are. You wanted your glory back, so when a new threat to the wizarding world arose, you knew that a hero wouldn't just fall out of the sky, so you created one. You made the prophecy, knowing it would make its way to Voldemort's ears and waited to see which child would become your 'chosen one'. When my parents died, you made sure that Sirius never saw the light of day so that I wouldn't be put in his undoubtedly nurturing care. Then you placed me with my muggle-hating relatives, making me vulnerable and easy to manipulate. You orchestrated all of this for the attention and so far it's worked, but no longer." Dumbledore's face twisted from concerned headmaster to furious lunatic.

Dumbledore shot up from his seat, ready to spew nasty hateful words at Harry. The words were just at the tip of his tongue, face twisted in disgust.

"SIT DOWN!" The force of the magic behind Harry's words instantly dropped Dumbledore back into his seat and the floors trembled with its magnitude. Dumbledore's eyes were wide with terror as he found that not only could he not get up, but he couldn't even move.

Harry slowly stood from his seat and stepped up to Dumbledore's desk. Fear-filled grey eyes met his as he set both hands down on the cool desk surface and leaned forward. Harry's eyes glowed a feral green and the shadows on his face grew darker as he looked Albus in the eye and spoke.

"I won't kill you here, in this moment. No, instead I will let you watch as I tear down everything you have built brick by brick, cemented in blood and death. I will peel back the flesh of your lies until the world can see your true shriveled and weak self. I will show everyone your greed and bloodlust. And when you have nothing, I will take you away from your pampered life. I will not grant you death, no I will make you feel unimaginable pain. Your every breath will end in begging me to kill you, to end the agony. I will not stop until your mind breaks and there is nothing left of the man you once were. Then I will carve into your flesh the names of every person you've condemned to death, every person whose lives you've ruined, every person who has been victim to your deceit. And I will leave you to rot like that, let all of those who cannot get their own vengeance anymore be the ones to take your life." By now, Dumbledore had begun to tremble and Harry's eyes were alight with violent intent and it wasn't his Izaki side calling for blood, no, that was all Harry.

"Now witness, dear headmaster, what happens when you pull too hard on a marionette's strings." Harry's voice was pure venom as his lips pulled back in a sadistic grin.

Harry released his hold on Dumbledore as he left his office, he heard the old man suddenly gasp in air and cough it back out. Apparently he couldn't breathe. Good.

Harry felt much better after meeting with Dumbledore. He had gotten worked up, yes, but threatening him with such clear intent had felt almost therapeutic. He fully intended to follow through with everything he'd said. Even though this had nothing to do with the Izaki situation, it was still something that had to be dealt with. Harry couldn't just forgive and forget everything that has happened up until this point.

Harry slipped a hand into his shirt and gently touched one of the larger scars striped across his ribcage. It's been a miracle that Draco hasn't felt one yet in the multiple instances that his hand has strayed under Harry's shirt. He knows that he should tell Draco, but every time he thinks about saying something, his mind clamps down on it and a voice in the back of his head convinces him it's too early and telling him will only bring pity and he won't want a mate whose been damaged. And last time Harry checked, childhood-trauma isn't a very good icebreaker.

Draco had been waiting for him at the dorms after the meeting, once Harry had calmed down, he told Draco everything. Well, nearly everything. He told him about what was in the journal from his godfather—even let him look at certain passages or drawings—and about Dumbledore's role in his parents deaths, and some of the lies he'd told over the years that had affected them both. Harry didn't say anything about his relatives, though. That felt too personal, too intimate to share yet.

Perhaps with time I'll gather enough courage. . . Harry thought, knowing that he was just lying to himself, but praying that it would eventually change.

Before he knew it, a month had passed since Harry had confronted Dumbledore and Harry can't really say that he's unhappy with the result. From then on, Dumbledore stopped trying to manipulate Harry or use the people around him against him. He still occasionally gave Harry the stink-eye, but always ducked his head when Harry looked over.

It didn't take long for the rest of the school to catch on to his and Draco's relationship. It had been world-shaking news to everyone but the Slytherins, who acted like it was an inevitable fact from the moment Harry had joined the Slytherin house, and perhaps it had been. It wasn't long after it had taken hold of the entire school's attention that the papers picked up the story and it held everyone's attention.

Those outside the school thought it was purely a strategic political move from both parties. The Malfoys would regain the respect of the public again if the savior joined the family, and Harry could use Lucius' already prominent public stature as a platform for his political debut. But those inside the school that saw the pair together knew it was absolute rubbish. They were not shy in showing their affection for each other, but knew when it was inappropriate. Draco occasionally spent the night in Harry's room, though they never did anything more than talk or kiss—despite what everyone thought.

Harry sometimes hung out with Neville or Luna, though Dean was having trouble maintaining his friendship with his best mate Seamus because Seamus had taken Ron's side. Ron had come back with a vengeance. He did everything he could to turn people against Harry, even to go as far as to attack Harry's sexual orientation, flinging every vile insult and degrading name he could think of at Harry when Draco wasn't around.

Draco is very protective when it comes to Harry and has nearly ripped the red head apart on several occasions for being petty and tenacious. Every time Draco is close to doing it, though, Harry stops him, telling him it isn't worth the legal complications and instead does something to mortify Ron in public as retribution.

Much to Harry's ire, a fan club had formed, mostly consisting of young girls with an affinity for dog-whistle-worthy squeals and a few young blokes who had slightly deeper squeals. Hilariously enough, their fan club had openly stood up against Ron and his lackeys every time he slandered Harry or Draco around them. At least, it had been funny for a while, until Ron snapped and physically attacked several second year members. He hadn't been expelled because Dumbledore was taking advantage of anything he possibly could in public that would annoy Harry.

After that Harry had made the club members swear that they wouldn't stand up for them anymore if it put them in danger and that if anyone harassed them, to tell either Harry or Draco and they would handle it. They members had sulked and pouted, but eventually gave their word.

After the attack on a couple of helpless second years, Harry noticed that Hermione finally seemed to be waking up and realizing the person Ron has become is not the same person Harry had once called his best mate and Hermione had fallen for. She hadn't confronted him yet, but every time Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor table during a meal, she gave him a painfully guilty look and ducked her head. Harry doesn't know if he'd ever forgive her enough to be as close as they used to be, but he knows how swept up she'd been in Ron and how hard it had been for her to have no friends besides Harry and Ron for so long.

Over the last month, Harry had also been searching for a way get in contact with Gail again. He has almost no information on the current living conditions of his people and all Draco knew about the whole thing was that many unregistered Izaki referred to the 'habitat' as Terra di Morte, or Land of Death. Every time he began to think about his kind rotting away in some sort of containment facility, Harry's Izaki gets restless and starts scratching at the walls of his human body, wanting out so that he can put all of his effort and focus into finding them.

He was close too, that's what's so frustrating about the whole thing; he can feel the legilimency brushing something on the other side, just barely out of reach. Every time he gets close, it slips through his fingers and leaves him sweating and exhausted. Draco tried, but since he never had an Izaki enter his mind for his inheritance because his parents were able to provide proficient knowledge, he can't even feel anything on the other side.

As autumn settled heavily on Hogwarts, Harry felt a frustrating stagnation when it came to contacting his people. He knew that before really moving forward, he needed to know the conditions of Terra di Morte. Now, his first priority is reaching Gail. That is, if he can survive the hordes of giggling schoolgirls, hormone driven impulses, insane headmasters, and potion master cheek.