A/N: Angels above, Butterbeer tastes Heavenly. To all those of the same nationality as mine, The Nook is a definite go to. That bathroom is so creepy for Myrtle's giggle and the mirror actually has the chicken blood quote.

Warnings: I feel lazy.

Pairings: Jack Harkness(it's in spell check *gapes*) /Sesshomaru (Inuyasha)

Disclaimer: According to an omegle inducted poll, I shouldn't kill Hermione… there's this one guy/girl who said yes because Ron has no soul… Well, we'll see, won't we?

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Ronald Weasley was no stranger to being unconscious—and it was the type of unwilling unconsciousness, not the "I went to sleep therefore I'm not conscious" type. Who wouldn't? Between Harry and Harry—yes, Harry classifies as two things; his brother in all but blood Harry and the Boy-Who-Lived Harry—unconsciousness is a regular thing, perhaps even monthly. So it was with barely a groan that he came to.

Well, that is, before he felt the pounding headache that threatened to put him back to the state of unconsciousness. That didn't deter him, though.

And so, with a groan of pain, Ron twitched his fingers before attempting to sit up and, when that failed, used his arms to support himself. And didn't that answer the question of where in Merlin's name he is.

Ron winced as his arm scraped against the rough stone floors of the hallway. Knowing that he won't be able to support his weight without looking like a fool, Ron scooted over to the wall and rested his back against it. Still not quite sure which part of the castle he is in and hoping to at least remember just what it was that made him pass out, Ron examined his surroundings only to gasp as his eyes landed on bushy brown hair sprawled on the ground just beside where he was before.

Ron almost shouted Hermione's name before the pounding headache stopped him as if even the thought of shouting was enough to set it off. So, in the end, Ron regulated his breath and forced himself to calm down. He had faced an honest to Merlin Cerberus, and he was hyperventilating like a firstie faced with Honeydukes' many sweets.

Once he got himself under control again, Ron actually tried to analyze their situation. Hey, he's a brilliant strategist, no matter what 'Mione and Harry—

Harry!

Ron quickly scanned the area again only to see the absence of his black haired friend—is he, really?—and whipped his head around, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Harry was there and he just didn't notice. Or maybe he was not around because he went to go after whoever it is that attacked them.

Nodding, Ron pushed himself up, ignoring the now dulling headache, and went over to Hermione's side.

"Mione. Oi. Hermione, you have to wake up." Ron gently shook the witch. "Hermione!"

When the witch still didn't so much as twitch, Ron pursed his lips and looked around to see if there was anyone who could help only to find the corridor empty of people aside from him and Hermione.

Ron sighed and went back to his previous task, "Mione!"

Frowning, Ron tried again and again until he realized that, yes, he's a wizard, and yes, he has his wand in his back pocket, where Mad-eye explicitly told them not to put it in. Ron pulled it out, sending a sarcastic "thank Merlin he didn't blow his buttocks off," then pointed it at his friend, managing not to poke his eye in his haste.

"Rennervate!"

Ron sighed in relief when Hermione blinked her eyes open until they were staring at each other's eyes. They weren't making googly eyes at each other no matter what the others say, at least, that is what Ron thinks. He assisted the witch into a sitting position, figuring that if he woke up with a pounding headache, she had to have one too.

Hermione groaned. "Where did Hagrid hide that Hippogriff?"

Ron snickered. "I would have thought I'll be the one to say that."

Hermione blinked before focusing on Ron, wincing when it triggered the horrid ache in her head.

"Who said you didn't."

"But I didn't, and don't try moving around until that headache's gone. Nasty bugger, that."

The bushy haired witch nodded before wincing again and doing as told. It was a statement to how painful it was when the witch didn't so much as frown when he cursed or ordered her around. Ron, deciding that it would be easier if he wasn't always holding Hermione, dragged her gently over to a corner and sat down beside her.

Deciding to fill in the silence, Ron spoke, "Do you remember what happened? I think I got hit too hard by whatever it is that hit us."

Hermione grunted and Ron realized she won't be able to move properly for a bit so he decided to keep silent lest he attract the witch's ire.

And in the silence, Ron wondered. Where was Harry? If he had, indeed, gone to look for assistance, shouldn't he be there already? And where were the other students and Aurors? Sure, it was probably the middle of the day and students were in their classes, there should at least be a few out and about. Maybe they were in the Great Hall? Maybe it was already lunch time…

"D'you think it's lunch already, Mione?"

"Why don't you look at the time?" It was said irritably so Ron scrambled to obey and realized that no, it wasn't lunch time yet, and that only a few minutes had passed since their last lesson.

"What?" Ron blinked and recast the spell. "It's either we've been out cold for an incredibly short time, or someone tampered with our memories; I don't know which one I would prefer."

"I'd say it's the former." Ron looked at Hermione but the witch continued in her muttering. "The last thing I remember was Potions being cut because of an emergency, and then we—Harry! Right, where's Harry? We were with him."

Ron shook his head. "He wasn't here when I woke up. Probably went to Madam Pomfrey or other professors."

Hermione frowned before staggering up, to look out of the large window that was just behind them. Ron followed her lead confusedly, only for his eyes to widen when he processed what exactly he was seeing. And then he remembered.

Green eyes.

Green, luminous eyes that is teeming with madness.

But he didn't want to admit to what that meant, so he instead focused on the still burning village. He felt a detached sense of sorrow and anger for the life lost but his mind is still stuck and no matter how much he ignored it, the thought kept on cropping up and he can't do anything to stop it.

Harry attacked us. He looked very delighted that Hogsmea—

No. Stop. Harry wouldn't—

You saw him. You saw him when he went to Edgecombe.

That could have meant anything!

And you also saw him wandering the corridors alone… covered in blood… remembered him exiting the room Cho Chang screamed and—

"Stop!"

He didn't notice he said it out loud.

"Ron?"

Ron grit his teeth and looked into Hermione's eyes, looking for something—anything—that would perhaps make him win the argument he was having inside his head. But the bushy haired witch was only looking at him in confusion. And Ron, no matter his pride, needed help in this one and he knew because the mere thought of Harry—his best mate; his brother in all but blood—doing those things… they just… they were impossible.

"Mione…" Ron curled his fingers into fists. "Tell me… please tell me…"

Hermione merely had that look of confusion and Ron felt his anger boiling. Hermione was the perceptive one out of all of them; she should be the one to notice it first. Ron wasn't used to any huge realizations, heck, he hadn't even made a proper, correct conclusion in all his life without the help of anyone leading him explicitly. His anger only rose and his breath started to become heavy. In his anger, Ron unknowingly raised his hand and brought it down to Hermione.

The sharp gasp brought him out of the angry haze he was in and immediately, after looking uncomprehendingly between Hermione's fallen and shocked form and his raised fist, Ron sank down beside her, muttering apologies.

But he was too angry. He wasn't used to being the one to connect the dots first. He hated the fact that it was something that was so altering and not something as simple as what was for dinner. It was a big thing and that was why it angered him so much. Angry and guilty. Guilty because he had the pieces a long time ago and he didn't put it together before it was too late. Guilty because he thought such a thing of Harry. And all that guilt made him angry.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when he felt a sharp pain on his cheek and he belatedly registered that he was on the brink of hitting Hermione again. He let out a deep sigh and slowly put down his hand that was raised once more.

"I needed that." Ron bowed his head, more than willing to lower his pride for hitting a girl. "I'm sorry."

Ron stayed in his position of shame until he heard a muffled sob, then he looked up.

"I-I-" Hermione sobbed. "I know. I know. I wish I didn't. I- Ron- I'm- I don't know anymore. It- it—"

And with that, Ron's anger disappeared as if it wasn't even there in the first place. Awkward teenager that he is, Ron didn't know what to do but figured that, with what his mother used to do when, as a child, he cried because Fred and George stole something that was his, hugging and comforting his female friend—girlfriend, but they didn't bother with the labels just that they were together—was the socially accepted response.

Ron pursed his lips. He might not be the smartest around but he knew, now that he actually understood, that they had to face it. It would be stupid not to.

"We have to go tell Dumbledore."

Hermione tightened her hold but pulled her head away to look at his eyes and Ron was reminded of a lost puppy. "But- but this is Harry we're talking about. He can't have- I mean—he might not have control over himself."

Ron's expression softened and brushed away the tears on his friend's, girlfriend's, lover's, whatever's, cheek.

"That is exactly why we're going to Dumbledore. And maybe he already knows and have taken Harry to his office."

Hermione nodded. "Right."

Ron smiled lovingly at her before blinking. "You know, you should be the one saying those things, not me."

Chuckling, Hermione lightly swatted his head. "You're right. Don't go becoming smart, I might suspect you of hiding things from me."

"Oi," Ron scowled jokingly. "Are you implying I'm stupid?"

"I'm not." Hermione smirked. "Because you are, Ronald, no one needs to imply it."

The red-head almost pouted before grinning and standing up, offering his hand to the other in assistance. "Well, you're stuck with this stupid Ronald until I die. Mind you, I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

Hermione took the offered hand and smiled. "You aren't going Voldemort on me, are you? Red, insane eyes would clash horribly with Weasley red."

Ron puffed out his chest. "I'd rather follow Nicholas Flammel's path and for that," Ron winked at Hermione. "I would need that brilliant brain of yours."

"Oh so you only want me for my brains."

"Of course not!" Ron looked slightly miffed and slung his arm on Hermione's shoulders in a one-armed hug since they were walking. "I want you because you're Hermione."

"And if I weren't Hermione anymore?"

Ron stopped and peered at the other's eyes. "Then I'll find you and bring you back, simple as that."

Hermione looked down and continued walking, Ron following her still in the same position.

"What about Harry?"

Ron tightened his awkward half-hug. "We'll do the same. If you are willing, that is."

He felt, more than saw, Hermione nod her head and Ron felt that they could do this because they were together. Whatever is happening with Harry, they'll solve it and in no time at all, they will have their best friend back. Slightly damaged, no doubt, but that's easy to fix. They're the Golden Trio; they are practically sawn at the hip.

And so their journey to the Headmaster's office continued on in silence, both wracking their brains for answers that will never come to them. But then again, there's this silly thing called hope and both Ron and Hermione are never going to lose sight of it.

Yet the red-head felt that everything isn't right.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Albus Dumbledore knew a lot of things. Most of these things came from his experiences starting from when he was a mere boy who started at Hogwarts. He had been naïve then but now… well, he liked to believe that he wasn't. He had defeated Grindelwald, one of the most dangerous Dark Lords to have ever risen. Grindelwald. He made that mistake once and he had vowed to never do that again but it seems he has failed for a second time.

The Headmaster liked to think that he knew a lot of things.

And for a fact, he knew that it should be impossible for Tom's group to be here. Not just because Diagon Alley is perfectly protected by the Ministry, but because they were all supposed to be recovering from their attack on Hogsmead. Or even just preparing for another attack. It can't be possible and, no, they weren't a different group. Heck, even Tom was present on both raids.

It was only with luck that they even arrived in Diagon Alley before the perimeter wards flared to life, inhibiting other people to enter. Looking around, Albus was thankful that he had his most powerful allies.

At first, it was silent. Eerily silent that if they didn't see the people starting to panic, they may not have noticed that anything was wrong at all. And then they almost felt themselves go deaf when the screams and explosions reached their ears.

"Albus!"

He didn't even know who it was that called him but he moved, nonetheless, just in time for him to avoid a spell. He cast his twinkling blue eyes to the direction from where the spell came from and they quickly hardened. Gone was the eccentric old man who chose to help the children and in his place stood a true leader.

He spoke, with anger, disgust, and disappointment coloring his strong voice. "Tom, what are you doing here? Was it not enough that you reduced Hogsmead into piles of rubble?"

The high-pitched cold laughter that followed sent shivers of fear to everyone, including the Headmaster, but he will be strong for the sake of others.

"You really think that I will throw my wand and beg for your forgiveness?" To—no, it's Voldemort now. Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a mocking smirk. "I believe we are already past that, Headmaster."

It was said with such disdain that Albus had to stop himself from cringing. It had been his fault that Tom Riddle walked the path of darkness. If he had been able to assist the boy, he may have been able to stop this from happening but he had been too preoccupied by his first mistake and because of that, unknowingly, he created his second mistake. How ironic it is that it was because of him?

"We can settle this in a far more different setting, Tom."

There was a snarl and as if it was a signal, the Death Eaters continued their attack. Everyone was immediately moving, the Order members that were already in Diagon Alley helped the Aurors in protecting those who can't defend themselves and evacuating those who can defend themselves. Even Dumbledore helped in lifting rubbles off those unfortunate souls who got buried but it wasn't for long.

"Headmaster!"

Dumbledore swiveled around to search for the disturbingly familiar voice. And when he found it, his eyes widened.

"…Harry?"

Dumbledore didn't have any more time than to utter the name before he was once again accosted by another Death Eater. It was when he had finally stunned his opponent when he had to dodge another attack. This one, though, wasn't a spell, but what seemed like a knife. Dumbledore pointed his wand to the direction where it came from, a curse at the tip of his tongue when he hesitated.

It was, without a doubt, Harry Potter.

"Harry!" Dumbledore made his way over to the teenager in worry. He wasn't supposed to be there, the child should be in Hogwarts where he is protected from Tom and his Death Eaters. "What are you doing here? It is dangerous here, dear child! Is Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley with you?"

When there was no response, Dumbledore became worried and almost forgot that they were in the middle of chaos but he trusted the Order and, to some extent, the Aurors, to save the innocent people here in the Alley. This boy, this boy that he had treated as his own grandson, had protected to his utmost ability, is here. He can't be here.

Dumbledore searched his brain for a solution to this predicament. Harry cannot stay there where Voldemort could easily kill him, and Albus will be dead before that ever happens. Scanning the area, Dumbledore couldn't find a safe place to hide the boy in so he faced Harry once more, only to frown in confusion when the child opened his mouth to say something Dumbledore cannot hear.

"What are you saying, dear boy?"

Despite his panicking, Dumbledore forced himself to be calm. He won't be able to do anything if he didn't keep a level head. So it was with surprise that Dumbledore's gaze landed on Sirius Black.

"Sirius? You can't be here; the Ministry has yet to clear your name properly."

And that is correct. Sirius Black can't even be here in Diagon Alley, Order or not. He hadn't had enough time to call for the Order before they made haste to arrive here in Diagon Alley. And he knew, for sure, that the man wasn't that impulsive to go to a public area when he has yet to have his trial. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. Unless the man was the one who brought Harry here. The child couldn't have done it himself and it is more likely that Sirius went with his godson there.

"Were you the one who brought Harry here, Sirius?"

"No." "Yes."

Albus looked between the two. Both were wearing blank expressions although Sirius' were clouded with guilt and sorrow. He didn't know who he would believe but it had been too long since he became distracted and, quite irrationally, Albus felt anger at the situation. Uncharacteristic for him, Albus sent a scowl at the Black Lord.

"You can't just do what you want, Sirius!" Dumbledore gripped his wand tightly. "I was hoping that Remus would give you enough sense but it seems I was mistaken." Shaking his head, Dumbledore was at least thankful that Sirius told the truth. "But it's all in the past. You need to get Harry out of here. The wards won't allow anyone else to enter but it allows you to escape, take Harry and go!"

With that, Dumbledore pointed his wand at a cloaked wizard and tripped him on his legs when he was running after a screaming girl. It seems there are those who are taking advantage of the situation and Dumbledore shook his head. He almost stepped away from Harry when he felt the boy tug at his sleeve. Feeling more concerned than curious, Dumbledore looked down slightly to the boy.

"You can't just leave, Headmaster."

Dumbledore frowned and reached out to touch Harry's shoulder when the boy smacked his hand away with a snarl.

"Don't touch me!"

"Harry, my boy?"

But there was no response. Dumbledore hunched down to be level with Harry's eyes. Again, Dumbledore was concerned for his young charge when suddenly, green eyes lit up with childish glee at something behind Dumbledore. Curious, he looked behind him, only to spring to action, angling himself so Harry was covered by his body.

"Sirius, take Harry and go, now! Confringo!"

Voldemort easily deflected the spell into a building not far from them. "My, my, aggressive, aren't we?"

"You have no right to say that, Tom. You won't be able to touch Harry unless I'm dead, I owe him and his parents that much."

"Do you?" Voldemort had an expression of amusement that looked so foreign on his snake-like face. "Let's go, Harry, you lost your playtime when you decided to instead go to Dumbledore."

Dumbledore almost jumped at the response coming from behind him.

"Aww… c'mon Voldy, I can at least have a minute… right?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No. And if you're going to continue that tirade, you aren't going to the next raid."

Dumbledore had long since stepped back and stared at Harry in confusion. What was happening? Why was Black not reacting at all?

"Oh, alright. But what are we going to do to him?" Harry gestured to Dumbledore who looked at a loss to himself.

"It certainly is too early for him to die…"

"Okay!" It was said so brightly that Dumbledore almost winced but held his ground. He looked between the three, noting how Harry looked a lot less like the Harry he was used to seeing and more of—

He almost gasped when he caught sight of the not so green eye on the teen.

"H-Harry…" Dumbledore whispered. "What did you do?"

A maniacal grin was his answer and before he knew it, Dumbledore's world became black.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

As soon as he felt his consciousness return, Dumbledore shot up, blue eyes alert to any threats.

"Albus! If you don't lie back down, Headmaster or not, I'll tie you to that bed."

With confusion, Dumbledore took stock of his surroundings, noting the white stone walls, uncanny amount of beds, and the smell of antiseptic in the air. It had always been a question in his mind why the air in the infirmary would smell like antiseptic when they don't use it at all. Relaxing slowly, Dumbledore let himself be lied down once more on the bed he was sitting on.

"Ah, Poppy, I find myself at a loss… If I remember correctly, I was in Diagon Alley… how have I ended up here in your humble care?"

The witch sighed and bustled around, satisfied that her patient isn't going anywhere but on that bed. "Fillius and Horace brought you here approximately three hours before. They said St. Mungo's was full so they brought you here, and if you're wondering, they're both fine, minor curses that have simple countercurses were their only injury."

Madam Pomfrey sighed once more. "The Aurors on the other hand… only a few returned, all with injuries of some kind but they're fine… the other few though… they were all sent to St. Mungo's after I patched them up enough to lengthen their chance of survival."

"And what of the students?"

"They all stayed within the castle… thank Merlin for that. Although, Ms. Granger and the youngest Mr. Weasley went to find you earlier… something about Mr. Potter not being around. Do you know anything, Albus?"

"Ah," Dumbledore faltered, not knowing what to say. Would he tell the truth? But it was a horrifying one and he doubted anyone would believe him. Even he, himself, had a hard time wrapping his mind around it. So he settled with his answer, "I'm afraid not."

All sounds of movement stopped before resuming back. "I'm not stupid, Albus. I know very much that there is something wrong with Mr. Potter. For once, Albus, tell me the truth, I'm not your student anymore."

Dumbledore remained silent and things remained that way for a while.

After what seemed like a long time, Dumbledore opened his mouth. "I don't know, Poppy. I don't know what's going on anymore."

"Perhaps you wouldn't," It was barely above a whisper but Dumbledore heard it clearly. "Why do you prefer to be willfully blind and deaf, Albus? Is your obsession to avoid another mistake made you so ignorant of certain things that you fail to notice that you are making another mistake? Life isn't about not making mistakes, Albus, you have to understand that."

Unknown to him, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and was gazing at it absently.

"I do," Dumbledore caressed his wand made of elder. "I do try to understand that, Poppy."

The witch stopped her bustling and slowly made her way to the older wizard, pulling a chair for her to sit on. "Then why? Why won't you succeed?"

Dumbledore let himself be vulnerable under the sharp gaze of the witch. She was one of his most trusted, Minerva aside. They had known each other for a long time that they knew most of each other. Clutching his eyes shut, Dumbledore handed his wand over to the witch who took it with utmost care, knowing how important a wand is to a witch or wizard.

Sighing tiredly, Dumbledore sat up on the bed. "I do not know. It might have been because of Gellert. I vowed to myself that I will never commit such a mistake but I did. I was a naïve child and Gellert took advantage of that. Tell me, do you know of the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

"Of course."

Dumbledore remained silent and cast his sorrowful gaze to the witch and then to the wand she is holding.

It took a moment but the witch got what he was implying. "I see."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded and closed his eyes. "That was what we seek. Gellert wanted to be the Master of Death and I followed him. It was my mistake, you realize, that Gellert started to seek power. I was the one who found the Wand first and when I did, I told Gellert, but he was far into the darkness that power contains. And it was then, when I saw the greed in his eyes, that I realized how wrong it was of me to have supported him.

"I could have led him away from the pull of power but I almost lost sight of who I am and I had focus on that. And now, I thought, it could have turned out differently if only I made more effort to help. But I failed and did it again for a second time when I tried to solve my first mistake…"

Madam Pomfrey handed the wand back to its owner. "And now you feel like you created a third while you were solving the second."

"Yes."

Silence settled between them once more.

"I think you really did lose sight of yourself, Albus."

Dumbledore shifted. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I mean, Albus." Madam Pomfrey stood up. "You lost sight of yourself and never quite got it back together. Why don't you use your time here to think on that? I haven't told anyone that you are awake yet."

And with that, Dumbledore was left to ponder as the witch went to make tea.

Where had he gone wrong? He knew it was his naivety that gave Gellert his chance, negligence on his part when young Tom needed guidance. What could he have done to Harry for him to turn his back on him? He made his decisions on the boy for his own good and no matter what the boy said, Petunia could not have done that to the boy. Dumbledore believed that, in his experience, people can change no matter how horrible they were at the beginning. He tried not to let first impressions affect him and that is exactly what he did. So, where had things gone wrong?

"Poppy," Dumbledore called out softly. "It seems that I am at a loss. What have I done for things to become wrong?"

Madam Pomfrey's expression softened as she set the tea down on the bedside table.

Out of pity—and nothing else—she decided to give the old Headmaster the answer. "You focused too much, Albus. You could have let the boy thrive without your meddlesome attitude. You could have let everything go into its own course and left everything alone."

"But the prophecy—"

"I bloody hell know about the prophecy!" Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath to calm herself and took a sip of her tea. "Prophecies weren't meant to be heard, just take the Greeks for example. All prophecies aren't set in stone unless some idiot hears it and believes it. Haven't you ever wondered why muggles have at least a year of peace before anything happens again? They don't do anything to prevent or fulfill outright a prediction."

The Headmaster opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by the witch.

"It was because of your naivety and negligence this happened, Albus, there's nothing more I can say. Now, I believe you have your duties?"

Dumbledore nodded absently, hand still holding his wand then he stood up. "I- yes, I believe I do. I thank you for your services, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey watched as the Headmaster exited the room, cup of tea forgotten. She basked in the silence, staring off into the distance, fingers fiddling with the cup.

Outside, the sky darkened until only the moon and stars illuminated the dark room, the witch not making any move.

"It's not like we can do anything…" She barely noticed that she was clutching her cup tightly. "We're signing our death sentences as we speak. That child has long since forgotten how to forgive…"

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

And here we have a lot of fillers… what? I was not in the mood for anything, really. I'm freaking out, by the way, because gawds, 75 more words and I'll reach my quota of minimum 5000 words for the story… damn.

Anyway, it's more of a… character build-up? At the close-to-end of the story? Luce, what the fuck is wrong with you?

And if you want a detailed description of how Butterbeer tastes like to me, here it is: It's like liquefied, carbonated caramel with creamy froth on top, which is actually marshmallow and cream if I'm correct in my assumption.

I'll grovel, alright? Please review.