AN: Hey guys! Sorry I'm two days late. Anyway, just wanted to clarify two things:

1. I cannot underline enough that Harry is not a good guy in this story. There is no redemption arc waiting in the wings. This is about how he becomes the Sith'ari, not a Grey Jedi or Barash taker. If you feel he's being evil - good. That's how he's meant to be portrayed. He will still have a sense of humour, and he might in fact fall in love at some point, but Harry is destined here to be Sith.

2. I will no longer be posting updates for this story (or any other on this site) until September due to school obligations. I regret having to take this step, but my dissertation calls.

With that said, I hope you like the chapter! Also, if anyone knows of any good A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones fics involving a Medici-like family/bank intriguing in Westeros, I'd be very interested to hear about it!


Two days later…

"Mr. Potter, could you come with me, please?"

Harry looked up from his breakfast to see his Head of House standing behind him, looking stern. For a moment, Harry wondered if perhaps one of his schemes had been caught out, before reassuring himself that he had taken every precaution to keep his activities under wraps. Nodding calmly, he excused himself from the table, nodding at his roommates, before accompanying Flitwick out of the Great Hall.

For a moment, Harry thought the diminutive professor would stay silent for the duration of their walk. Yet, once they were out of the Great Hall, the professor afforded him a glance.

"I had a talk with Headmaster Dumbledore," he informed Harry.

Harry felt a mix of anxiety and excitement that he ruthlessly crushed down. "Oh?" he asked with deceptive calm. They rounded a corner into another corridor that led towards the central areas of the castle.

Flitwick nodded. "I informed him of your passionate plea to keep Ms. Granger in Hogwarts," he said. "I believe he was open to the idea, but her parents are...understandably less convinced."

Harry nodded — that was understandable. Their daughter had nearly died, after all. Even now, she remained secluded in her room in Gryffindor, forced to rely on others — usually Neville — to navigate the school. As he'd expected, she refused to be excluded from lessons, despite her disabilities.

"I imagine I am about to meet them?" he asked his Head of House, already plotting numerous ways he could get the Grangers to see his way.

Flitwick nodded. "Indeed," he confirmed. "The Headmaster is under the impression that you might convince them, as you convinced me, that Ms. Granger is better suited to remain here, under our careful supervision, than she would be out in the Muggle world."

"I understand, Professor," he said as they came to a stop before a gargoyle. "Professor, is there any way Hermione might be granted either of her disabled faculties back through magic?" he asked.

Flitwick shook his head sadly. "Regrettably not, Mr. Potter. Had she been older, perhaps, but the only prosthetics we have for loss of vision requires fully developed brains, restricting them to adults. Had she suffered her injuries much later in life, she might have regained her vision by means of these devices. Regrettably, things are as they are."

"And her voice?"

Flitwick sighed. "The human body is a fragile thing, Mister Potter. As I understand it, the amount of damage she sustained is too dangerous to tinker around with. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey would have better answers for you," he suggested before turning to the gargoyle and saying, "Charm Choc."

Harry nodded as the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing a secret staircase, silently pleased with this information. It meant that there was little risk that his corruption of Hermione would be undermined by the easy restoration of her sight and speech. That meant that only her parents stood in his way.

Fortunately, they were muggles, which meant that their resistance to his powers should be low enough for him to implant suggestions without needing a major power boost. Otherwise, he would have to improvise.

He followed Flitwick up the staircase until they reached a rather simple looking door — nothing like what he'd expect of the door to the Headmaster's Office. Even at St. Grogory's, there was a sense of presentation when one went to see the Headmistress — the double doors, the frosted glass, the imposing lettering that seemed to scream trouble at you...half of the intimidation work against the students was based in the anticipation of punishment and a stern talking to, not the actual conversation.

He saw none of that in Dumbledore's door, which was disappointing on the one hand, and a good sign on the other — it signalled he was committed to this good guy mentality.

Flitwick knocked on the door twice, which prompted a cheerful "Come in!" The Charms Professor did just that, leading Harry into the office.

What struck Harry the most was the amount of books and devices Dumbledore had. It looked one part library, one part museum, and to be honest, he loved it. The library was always full of anxious kids and disrespectfully loud students, as well as that busybody librarian...but he could easily imagine Dumbledore lounging here with his books, enjoying the silence of his office.

Harry couldn't lie — he felt envious of the man.

"Ah, Filius! Harry! Please, come in!" Dumbledore greeted them as he stood up behind his desk. He gestured for them to take a seat before motioning to the two people already sitting opposite his desk. "Filius, Harry, I'd like you to meet the Grangers: Ian and Jean. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, these are my colleague, Professor Filius Flitwick; and his student, Harry Potter."

Filius bowed his head in greeting and extended a hand. "A pleasure," he said, approaching the shocked couple. Obviously, Flitwick's appearance had caught them somewhat off-guard. To their credit as human beings, however, they quickly rallied and Mr. Granger was the first to clasp Flitwick's hand.

"Indeed, Professor," Mr. Granger replied with a tight smile. "Were it under better circumstances, though."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Granger," Harry greeted Hermione's mother in the meantime, shooting her the most friendly smile he could muster. It seemed to work, as she smiled gently back at him. "Your daughter has said nothing but kind words about you."

"And you, Mister Potter," she said in return, her smile straining a bit at the mention of her daughter.

Harry noted that down in his mind before nodding at her and turning to greet Mr. Granger, even as Filius moved to greet Mrs. Granger. Once the introductions were done, Harry waited for Flitwick to take his seat before sitting down in the remaining chair — coincidentally, it was the furthest one from the Grangers. A pity, but he could work it.

"Harry."

He snapped his attention to the Headmaster, who was looking at him with the friendliest smile of all. In fact, were it not for the fact that Flitwick had informed him of the circumstances of this meeting and the Grangers' presence, he might never have guessed.

"Yes, Headmaster?" he asked politely.

"I'm told by Professor Flitwick that you volunteered, and indeed passionately defended, your classmate's right to remain here at Hogwarts. Is that correct?" Dumbledore asked him.

Harry repressed a confused frown. Of course that was true. What was Dumbledore trying to do? "Yes, Headmaster," he confirmed nonetheless. "Professor Flitwick informed me of the circumstances of Hermione's potential dismissal, and I found them profoundly unfair."

Dumbledore nodded, seemingly pleased with the answer, and he noticed peripherally that the Grangers' strained smiles had softened up a bit. Had that been the point of the pointless question? To show them that he wasn't fibbing or mocking their daughter?

"For the benefit of her parents, would you please outline your position?" he asked. He then turned to the Grangers. "If that's alright with you, that is."

The couple looked at each other for a moment before Mr. Granger turned back to Dumbledore and shrugged. "I suppose there's no harm."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said with a smile before turning to Harry and nodding. "Harry?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, making sure to keep his anxiety in check. Thus far, he had managed to set himself up well without having had to use the Force to get his way. As long as he could manipulate the Grangers to see things his way without the use of Force suggestions — particularly in light of the fact that he was very much in the lion's den right now, so to speak — then he would consider this a win.

"Headmaster, according to the professors I've spoken to, and the stories Neville tells me about her, Hermione is potentially one of the brightest witch in my generation," he said. "This is not merely the opinions of others, however, but also mine. I have on occasion studied with her, and, false modesty aside, anything that took me a moment to understand, she grasped almost immediately. Her ability to deduce alternative practical applications for even mundane spells also set her aside from the other students, which, considering the state of the magical world, I believe is one of her most valuable skills."

He took a breath before deliberately making eye contact with the Grangers. "That is why I believe that pulling Hermione out from Hogwarts would be a waste of her skills."

Mr. Granger nodded slowly, while Mrs. Granger looked away. "I understand how you feel, Mr. Potter, but…"

Harry raised a hand. "I apologise, Mr. Granger, but I wasn't finished."

That seemed to take the man aback. "Oh?" asked Dumbledore, looking interested. Even Flitwick was scrutinising him closely.

Harry shook his head. "There are also safety concerns to bear in mind. Both for her, and those around her," he pointed out. "Based on what my classmates inform me, any student withdrawn from Hogwarts could only continue their studies at home with the help of a magical tutor. Yet, due to the prohibition of the use of wand magic for the underage outside Hogwarts, and the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Granger are classified as Muggles, the rules have been arranged such that she could not actually conduct these studies at home, even if she had access to a tutor."

"She could go to a friend's house?" suggested Dumbledore mildly. Harry again repressed a frown. Was he trying to sabotage his efforts? No...those twinkling eyes seemed to suggest he was actually quite bemused by his performance.

"With respect, Headmaster: which friends?" he asked, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from the Grangers. "Besides myself and Neville, Hermione is all but socially isolated in Gryffindor. Professor?" he turned to Flitwick, who nodded gravely.

"It is most unfortunate," he said. "But following my conversation with Mr. Potter, I had a chat with Deputy Headmistress McGonagall about Ms. Granger's circumstances in Gryffindor. She carried out an investigation and confirmed that they were not...optimal."

Dumbledore nodded gravely while the Grangers' expression darkened. Before they could go down the wrong path, however, Harry spoke up.

"Which is why I suggested she move to Ravenclaw," he reminded Dumbledore. "Hermione is brilliant. Ravenclaw values intelligence, wisdom, and wit. Where her Housemates would feel threatened by her intelligence, we would welcome it."

Mr. Granger nodded slowly again before frowning at Dumbledore. "Why wasn't she put into Ravenclaw to begin with, then?"

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side. "Our Sorting process is not exactly...conventional, Mr. Granger. Did Ms. Granger not inform you of the details?"

Hermione's dad shook his head. "She glossed over it. Said she'd been placed into Gryffindor House and that she was terribly pleased."

Harry nodded gravely. "She was, Mr. Granger. I spoke to your daughter on the train ride, and when she was Sorted, she looked very happy indeed. Unfortunate that it should come to this."

Dumbledore's gaze turned to him in the blink of an eye, and Harry could've sworn he saw a frown for a fraction of a second there. He forced himself to remain calm and not tense up. Had he misspoken?

"Indeed," Mr. Granger agreed tightly before leaning back against his chair. "You were saying about safety concerns, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded, putting aside Dumbledore's reaction for now. "Devoid of a way to express her magic, which she has grown fond of, Hermione's emotional well-being may be harmed as a result. I have heard that untrained magic users under severe emotional strain tend to lash out with their magic at inopportune times, in fact."

Okay — this time he knew Dumbledore had reacted to what he'd said. Except it wasn't a frown; instead, the man had tensed up hard. Curious. Harry made a note of that.

"You're remarkably well spoken for a boy your age, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Granger remarked eyeing him with surprise. Harry played the shy card then.

"I...did not have many friendships at school, either, so I read a lot," he half-lied. No need to tell them he had deliberately engineered his lack of friendships at St. Grogory's. Or that XoXaan was a harsh taskmistress who demanded he speak at her level or not at all. "I guess that's one of the ways Hermione and I connected."

Mr. Granger's eyes widened. "She told you?" he asked, surprised.

Harry shook his head. "Not explicitly, but I recognised the signs."

"Signs?" Flitwick asked, somewhat lost.

The Grangers exchanged a look before Mr. Granger sighed. "Hermione was...bullied at school," he explained. "We'd hoped that, maybe...she would finally find peers like her here. But after what happened…"

"We feared the worst," Mrs. Granger finished softly, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. She looked at Harry with half-formed tears in her eyes. "Thank you for saving our daughter, Mr. Potter."

Mr. Granger nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It was remiss of us not to have thanked you sooner."

Harry ducked his head, playing the part. "I regret only that I could not prevent her from suffering the injuries she did," he said.

"You cannot control everything, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said sagely. "Especially in a fight. As it is, you were remarkably lucky, or talented, to have come out of that as uninjured as you were."

Harry looked away, smiling shyly. "I...had to learn to be quick on my feet before I came to Hogwarts."

He spared a brief glance at Dumbledore, who seemed to be eyeing him curiously. Had the old man bought it? Technically, that was no lie — XoXaan was very strict about keeping his physical regimen up to par for a Sith acolyte.

"Anything else, Harry?" Dumbledore asked genially.

Harry thought about it for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "No, sir. That's all I can think of."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well: that was well stated, Harry. You should be proud," he said with a smile before turning to Flitwick. "And you too, Filius. It's rare to have as eloquent a student as Harry."

"Naturally," Flitwick agreed, patting Harry on the arm. "Harry is one of my finest in his year!"

Harry felt his pride swell up a bit at that compliment. Of course he was. For all their smarts, Michael, Terry, and Anthony were all far more concerned with more trivial pursuits than actual academics. If anything, his closest competition in terms of grades all came from the girls' dorm.

Nodding again, Dumbledore turned to the Grangers. "Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, I would be remiss if I failed to inform you that, for all of young Harry's excellent points thus far, there is one option we can provide Ms. Granger to ensure her safety and transition back into your world."

Harry tensed up. What was this?

"Oh?"

"We could simply bind her magic," Dumbledore explained. "It isn't done very often — in fact, rarely at all — but it would mean cutting off your daughter's access to magic."

Harry felt his vision blur. By the Force...if such a spell existed…!

"Headmaster!" Flitwick squeaked. "Surely not!"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "It would not be my recommendation, but I am bound by law to offer it."

Harry turned to the Grangers, gathering as much of the Dark Side as he could — ready to put a stop to this right now, if need be.

Fortunately, he needn't have worried. Both of Hermione's parents were frowning at each other.

"Forgive my ignorance, Headmaster, but you said this spell is rarely used: why?" he asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "For the most part, our society does not believe in restricting any person's natural right to their magic. However, on rare occasions, certain individuals do arise who, due to unfortunate circumstances in their lives, have a... less than acceptable grasp on their magic and emotional stability."

"Criminals?" asked Mrs. Granger suspiciously.

Dumbledore shook his head once. "No."

Harry's eyes widened as Dumbledore's insinuation clicked in his mind. Flitwick, undoubtedly already aware of what Dumbledore was saying, refused to meet anyone's gaze. Dumbledore kept his stare steadily on the Grangers, who quickly enough seemed to grasp the implications of his statement.

"Disabled children?" hissed Mr. Granger.

"I'm afraid so."

Mr. Granger shot to his feet. "My daughter is not about to be...to be…!" he thundered, "chemically castrated over something that is not her fault!"

Harry had to give it to the man — it was an apt comparison.

Dumbledore seemed unfazed, however. "As I said, it is merely an option."

"Not an acceptable one!" Mrs. Granger spat as her husband nodded. "I can't believe what I'm hearing!"

Harry nodded in agreement with the Grangers, though he kept his eyes on Dumbledore. Why had the man volunteered such information in such a way? Had he wanted to, the option to cut Hermione's magic off could've been presented in a far more friendlier manner — one that wouldn't evoke such a visceral reaction from her parents. Combined with a memory charm, it was, after all, the most logical option to get Hermione to seamlessly transition back into Muggle life.

That's when it clicked for Harry — Dumbledore didn't want to expel Hermione. He didn't want to use that spell on her. In his own way, he had set things up to ensure that the most logical option was the least preferable one.

As much as Harry was in awe of such manipulation, however, he felt far more envious. And confused. Weren't champions of the Light supposed to be above this sort of trickery?

"Then do I take this to mean that Ms. Granger will be remaining with us?" Dumbledore asked calmly, his eyes twinkling. Harry glanced at the Grangers and noticed the uneasy glances they shot each other. Clearly, their opinions on the matter had been thrown into doubt.

"I…" Mr. Granger started before sitting down heavily. "I don't know," he admitted before turning to his wife. "Dear?"

She looked at Flitwick, then Dumbledore, then at Harry, before finally back at Dumbledore. "I admit...Mr. Potter made a few good arguments...and I don't want my daughter treated like a threat to society…"

Mr. Granger nodded. "But...this place is dangerous. Our daughter was hurt here. More than she ever was at her regular school, and that includes the bullying."

"And do you believe that will change if she goes back in her present condition?" asked Dumbledore pointedly.

Both Grangers blanched. Harry himself restrained a derisive snort. Of course it wouldn't. He'd had first-hand experience in the cruelty of other children — and those didn't have access to magic. Between her superior intelligence, her desire to learn, and her disabilities, the bullies at regular schools would zero in on her like a starving wolf on prime meat.

Mr. Granger sighed resignedly. "No, I suppose not," he conceded. Mrs. Granger nodded in agreement.

That was his cue. "Then she'll stay?" he asked enthusiastically.

Mr. Granger and his wife shot him wan smiles before turning to Dumbledore. Good — he had them convinced of his genuineness, at least. "We have conditions," Mrs. Granger said firmly.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I will endeavour to meet them as best I can," he agreed warily.

"Hermione is moved immediately to another House," Mr. Granger said sternly. He turned to Flitwick. "Yours is...Ravenclaw, correct?"

Flitwick nodded. "Indeed!"

"And Mr. Potter says you value intelligence? You'll value my daughter?" he pressed.

Flitwick's nod was far more serious this time. "Of course. A mind like hers is to be cherished, not condemned."

The Grangers nodded and turned back to Dumbledore. "We would rather she move to Ravenclaw, then," Mrs. Granger said, before turning to Harry. "And Harry, can we depend on you to look after our daughter?"

Like you wouldn't believe, Harry thought smugly before nodding with the most sincere expression he could muster. "Of course, Mrs. Granger. Hermione is a dear friend."

The Grangers smiled at him gratefully before again turning back to Dumbledore. "We're aware that Hermione will have to remain in the girls' dorm, but we would greatly appreciate it if Harry here could be assigned to look after her."

Dumbledore nodded. "Is that all?" he asked genially.

The Grangers exchanged another look. "What about the bullies who led to this incident?" Mrs. Granger asked. "I can only imagine they were suitably punished?"

Flitwick tensed up, though Dumbledore managed to remain outwardly calm. Harry knew the students responsible for Hermione's bullying had seen a single day in detention. According to the rules, after all, they had done nothing wrong. He'd made sure to let Hermione know that.

"To the fullest extent that our disciplinary code allows, yes," Dumbledore answered diplomatically. Clever of him, too, since it wasn't technically a lie.

The Grangers seemed to have noticed that, too, but wisely decided to let it lie. After all, they were the ones at a disadvantage here — being Muggles, they never really knew what the social mores and limitations were.

"Then aside from your word that they will not be able to torment my daughter again, that would be everything," Mr. Granger said. "Is this acceptable?"

Harry eyed Dumbledore — this was the moment of truth. Would he? Wouldn't he?

"I find these terms acceptable," Dumbledore agreed genially. "I admit, it is exceedingly rare for someone to switch Houses once they've been Sorted," he said. "But not unprecedented. Though it has most often been as a result of maturing perspectives rather than something like this. Filius?"

His Head of House sat up. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"Please see to it that another bed is added to the girl's dorm," Dumbledore ordered. "And please let the girls know they are about to have another roommate. I will take care of notifying Minerva."

Flitwick inclined his head. "As you say, Headmaster," he acknowledged before turning to Harry. "Come along, Harry."

"Not Harry, Filius," Dumbledore quickly stopped him. "I've been meaning to speak to him again, but unfortunately never had the time."

Flitwick seemed as surprised as Harry felt, but nodded and excused himself before departing. Harry, for his part, couldn't deny the well of anxiety rising up in him — why would Dumbledore want to meet with him? Why now? Had he noticed something?

He waited as Dumbledore and the Grangers concluded their conversation, and genially said his goodbyes to Hermione's parents once they were done. Both of them smiled and shook his hand a lot, thanking him quite a bit for having saved their daughter. Playing the part of the good boy, he accepted these thanks shyly before seeing them off at the fireplace, which was connected to the Floo network, apparently.

Once they were gone, however, he felt his last barrier between him and Dumbledore vanish. Turning to face the Headmaster, he complied with the old man's gesture that he take a seat directly opposite of him.

"Harry," the old wizard began, "I must say: I've never been more gratified to witness such displays of student solidarity. It truly warms my heart."

"It was nothing, sir," Harry replied evenly. "Hermione is my friend. Defending her is the obvious thing to do."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Quite," he mused. "But I wonder, Harry, if perhaps there isn't more to this that you didn't say to Ms. Granger's parents?"

Harry clamped down his rising anxiety. "More, sir?"

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses. "Perhaps other reasons why you might want Ms. Granger to remain at Hogwarts?" he suggested. "Perhaps something to do with the private meetings you and she have been conducting in certain empty classrooms?"

Harry stared blankly at Dumbledore before reddening up like a tomato as the full implications of his question hit him. The embarrassment came hand in hand with a profound sense of relief — Dumbledore wasn't suspicious of his abilities, he was suspicious about his relationship with Hermione! Oh...that was rich!

"No!" he squeaked. "No! It's not like that!" he protested furiously. "We're...not like that! She's just a friend!"

Dumbledore chuckled as he leant back into his chair, steepling his hands. "Harry, far be it from me to judge, though I do personally believe you two to be perhaps somewhat young for this sort of thing," he mused out loud, much to Harry's amused embarrassment. As mortifying as this was, it was also quite the alibi Dumbledore had unexpectedly saddled him with. "And in fact, you would not be the first, shall we say...precocious students Hogwarts has had."

"Headmaster, I insist…"

Dumbledore waved away his protests. "I just want to make sure that you understand that, according to the rules, such relationships are frowned upon until at least your third year," he explained. "Loathe as I am to disrupt young love, I'm afraid I must insist that these private meetings with Ms. Granger come to a stop. As much for her sake as for yours."

Harry stared at the old man wide-eyed. "Of...Of course, Headmaster. I understand. We won't."

Dumbledore smiled at him genially and nodded. "Good. Good. As I said, I am reluctant to interfere in such matters, but perhaps your feelings for each other might persist until the regulations no longer compel me to do so, yes?"

Personally, Harry wouldn't bet on it. Still, he had to make good with this new opportunity. "Of...of course, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded again. "Very good. Well, then, I shouldn't keep you any longer. Off to class with you!"

Harry couldn't get out of that office fast enough.


Two Weeks Later…

"Christmas break is coming up soon."

Harry waited patiently for Hermione to scribble something down on her pad. When she lifted it up, he could see she'd written, WHERE YOU GOING? on three separate lines.

"I'll probably stay here," he told her as he pushed her magically enhanced wheelchair down the corridors — in a place like this, it would've normally been a hell of a chore, but Dumbledore and Flitwick had charmed it so that it technically hovered over the ground, making it much easier to handle. "My family isn't exactly...fond of me, as you know."

More furious scribbling. FAMILY IS FAMILY.

He chuckled. "Not to the Dursleys. Or many other people."

Hermione huffed in her seat, but let the matter drop. He chuckled at her discontent — for all the work he'd done on her to draw her to his side, Hermione was a mite stubborn on some issues; issues that he believed, once overcome, would break her spirit and make her seek out the Dark.

"We really need to get you to master that spell," he observed mildly, enjoying watching her tense up. The spell in question was not the one typically used by the mute among the wizarding community to communicate. Far too lazy to actually learn sign language, most of them relied on air writing to "speak." The blind, for their part, tended to use braille to read. The blind-mutes, however...that was a rather tricky combination, as far as communication went in the wizarding world.

Dumbledore had suggested a spell that would allow her to essentially project her thoughts, but admitted that eye contact was necessary for the most part. Contact she could no longer make. Still, that hadn't stopped her from trying.

He felt waves of the Dark Side emanating from her as he reminded her of her current failure and relished in its feeling. It wouldn't take much longer now before she swallowed her pride and asked him — perhaps even begged him — for help.

"You know, I could help you, if you want," he offered once again.

She once again shook her head, still stubbornly committing to her independence. It was hard for her to rely on others, after a lifetime of being socially isolated. He could understand that, though he also knew she would break sooner or later.

Sooner being preferable.

"Alright. Should we look for Neville, then?" he suggested. He felt her perk up a bit before once again slumping in her seat. Harry nearly grinned. He'd made sure to keep their interactions at a minimum by conveniently avoiding letting the two make contact as often as possible.

Each time he felt Neville's presence nearby, he would push Hermione down another corridor or distract her with some other task, such that they very rarely had time to talk to each other. Thanks to Hermione's transfer to Ravenclaw, the school schedule took care of that for the most part, but he took care of the small gaps in between classes. The result was that they could only meet during breakfast, lunch, and dinner periods, and even then, he played on her scholastic commitment to avoid remaining in the Great Hall for too long.

The results were exquisite. Both Neville and Hermione had begun wallowing deeper and deeper in their depression. As cordial and attentive as the Ravenclaw girls were compared to her Gryffindor Housemates, Hermione was still effectively a stranger to them at this point, whereas her roommates had begun forming bonds from Day 1. Neville, for his part, was still the socially awkward klutz he always was, except without Hermione on hand to boost his self-esteem when Slytherins, Snape, or even sometimes his own Housemates derided him.

In fact, the last time he had felt such a burst of Dark Side energy coming from Gryffindor Tower two days ago, it had been at King's Cross. He'd slept like a baby that night.

But there was more to lift his mood, as well. For the first time since his Master had cut off all communication with him, he had felt her presence. It was faint, but XoXaan's holocron was beginning to resonate to his energy again. He knew that it was now just a matter of time before XoXaan would grant him an audience once more.

"We could always just stay in at Ravenclaw Tower," he offered, knowing she would nod in defeat. She usually did these days.

Going outside was no longer really possible, thanks to the snow and cold, and though he enjoyed letting her hear other students play around — it always seemed to break her spirits a bit — he knew that "accidentally" doing so too often would reveal his ill intentions. Staying in the Great Hall, hearing the students interact so joyfully, also seemed to hurt her — particularly since virtually none of that interaction seemed aimed at her. Only Harry and his friends, and her roommates at times, would speak to her.

She nodded, as he knew she would. Smiling, he pushed her wheelchair in the direction of their tower, thinking of new ways to apply mental torment on his soon-to-be fellow acolyte. He knew XoXaan would have the answer to her communication and vision problems, and he couldn't wait to see his Master get her hooks into Hermione. Then, once Hermione understood that Harry had given her a new lease on life, she would be forever loyal.

Unfortunately, he did not get to have an incident-free trip to Ravenclaw Tower. Halfway there, he sensed Neville's presence and, not wanting to be rid of Hermione's delightfully depressed vibes, he quickly turned a corner, much to her surprise.

She scribbled something and held it up for him to see.

WHAT HAPPEN?

"Saw some Slytherins," he lied smoothly. "Looked like Malfoy and his hanger-ons. Thought you might want to avoid them."

Another wave of Dark Side energy flowed from her, and he knew he'd pressed the right button there. She nodded in agreement and sat back into her chair.

Eventually, he felt Neville's presence move further away and relaxed, resuming his trek up the staircases. He made a mental note to thank Flitwick and Dumbledore again for the Featherlight charm on Hermione's chair, or else this would've been far more tiresome a venture. As they reached the seventh floor, he took note that he wasn't quite familiar with this particular corridor.

"Is that a...man dancing in a tutu?" he mused aloud as he passed the painting. How idiotic. These force users here truly had a strange sense of humour. Still, as amusing as it was, he wished he knew precisely where he was, or where to go to get back to Ravenclaw.

He then noticed Hermione brought up another sheet — this one with some unintelligible scribbles, followed by one clear word: TUTU?

He grinned as he noticed her shoulders were shaking in amusement. "I know, right?" he said as they reached the end of the corridor. He frowned as they did, realising he didn't actually recognise either of these passages, either. "Damn. I think I took a wrong turn. Bare with me, Hermione."

She nodded silently as he turned her chair around and walked past the stupid painting again. Force help him, it really was quite stupid. Again, he wished there was some kind of map around here, or maybe a well-labeled door of some kind to tell him where to go.

Reaching the other end of the corridor again, he once again found himself feeling frustrated. He had no memory of this particular corridor, and trying to sense his fellow Ravenclaws through the Force was apparently impossible here. Instead, all he got was a feeling like his senses were coming up against a massive wall of magic/the Force. Which was impossible, of course, because the Force could not coalesce that way.

At least, not as far as he knew.

Again, Hermione scribbled something on her pad. RIGHT WAY?

"Dunno," he admitted. "Can't seem to orient myself."

MAYBE GO BACK?

He considered it, and just as quickly dismissed the idea. He could feel Neville's faint presence a few floors beneath him. If they went down the stairs, they would meet him, and his influence on Hermione today would be wasted.

"No...I think we were going the right way the first time, after all," he lied. Turning again, he ignored her frustrated huff and walked back down the corridor. For the third time, he wished there was some kind of street marker or map, or labelled door that would get him to Ravenclaw Tower—!

As soon as he walked across from the stupid painting of the man dancing in a tutu, he felt a blast of Force energy that made his knees buckle and weakened his grip on Hermione's wheelchair. As she made distressed noises, he fell to his hands and knees as the enormous amounts of Force power washed over him, nearly overloading his senses.

"What…" he gasped. "What was that?" he breathed.

He looked back at towards where the origin point of the blast and was stunned to see a doorway where none had been before. Over its frame was a simple sign that said:

CORRIDOR TO RAVENCLAW TOWER ENTRANCE

Harry's eyes bulged. That hadn't been there before. Had the Force materialised it? Was it a feature of this castle? He racked his mind for any other similar occasion, or any stories he might have heard of such circumstances, but came up short. Was this something confined to this particular corridor?

Hermione's noises of distress became louder, snapping him out of his reverie. Quickly getting back to his feet, he grabbed hold of her wheelchair again, making it hover. "Sorry!" he apologised. "Sorry! I must've tripped."

She furiously scribbled another message. YOU OK?

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I found a way back to the Tower. You ready to go?" he asked her. She nodded, a pleased smile on her face. "Alright, let's go back. I'm sure we'll find something to help you out with that communication spell in the library this time."

She winced, prompting a smile from him. As he opened the new door, he was surprised to see that it had delivered — at the very end of the new corridor, he could see the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, and the entrance to the Tower.

Yet, the moment they reached the statue, he turned around to check it was still there, and it wasn't, having inexplicably disappeared into thin air. Scanning the wall for any signs that it had been a corridor at one point, he found no traces of the passageway, nor could he feel the Force in the stonework — so it wasn't a mirage, like at King's Cross.

As Hermione made a noise that suggested she was curious why they stopped, he turned from observing the wall and resumed his trek up Ravenclaw Tower, where he could now feel his fellow students without any problem. In fact, he could even feel his Master's presence more fully than ever.

And for some reason, he had a feeling that mysterious corridor had something to do with her return.