On a bed in our infirmary, the second thing that came to my senses was a numb pain throbbing up my side and left arm every heartbeat. The foul taint of dark magic seethed from my body, seeped a lingering, irrational hatred for nothing and everything into my mind. My arm twitched as I shifted. It hurt to move, so I stayed absolutely still in my agony.

But despite that, I felt as though a great weight had been lifted off my chest, off my mind. Whatever had been pushed deep down into me and compacted with all the other pains, hurts, and frustrations I swallowed over the years burned in that hellish fire. My great beast of fire had consumed it all. I no longer cared about the spat with Snape. I was free, like I could soar through the skies without a broom. Maybe it was possible. Who knows.

"Harry," an old voice said. Dumbledore.

I rolled my head right, careful to not move anything below my neck. I could barely feel his aura through the fuming dark magic.

"Sir?"

"Concentrate on your magic, and sweep away your darkness. Only you can."

"How?"

"Positive emotions." A small smile spread across his wrinkled lips. "Happy memories. Happy thoughts."

Well, that was an easy thing to do.

I focused on my center, on my magical core. I thought of Fleur, the prettiest girl in the world, and my family and friends. And my tutors to an extent. But mostly of Fleur and our upcoming duel and Quidditch date. Happiness poured into me like warm milk as I washed myself with pure light magic. It didn't matter if we were barely more than strangers, less than acquaintances. It was how my emotions were, irrational and unforgiving of what I thought. It was how magic was.

And Fleur could fly in her avian form. I wondered if she often did. I wondered what she looked like. We could swim through the waters above—together. For however long we desired. The image brought me peace, and the last of my dark magic dispersed into nothingness.

Dumbledore's beady wand made frilly patterns over me, and the pain also vanished with an influx of his old magic. I was healed, mentally and physically.

A long, cool breath came to me as I sat against the headrest. "I'm so sorry. I lost control back there." Concern for the others sprang. "Is anyone hurt?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Only you."

I was genuinely surprised. "What about Snape? He was there just behind me when I passed out." Next to my beast.

"Apparition is very useful in a duel." His tone was quite carefree.

I couldn't help but ask, "Then why didn't he get me out as well."

A serious look, followed by a more-serious voice, "Fiendfyre is extraordinarily dangerous. The caster must be conscious for it to remain tame, and when Severus stunned you, your monstrosity lost all restraint. I was nearly caught on the hip, Harry."

Fiendfyre. I now had a name for my purifying dark beast.

"And I must say, unless accidental, it is highly forbidden," Dumbledore said darkly, catching the look on my face, "and it was one of Lord Voldemort's favorites."

Was I a bad person for not caring?

My Occlumency walls shielded me once more, protecting that thought; it was just a spell, albeit a dark spell. Any wizard strolling down Diagon Alley could claim it as their favorite. No one had ownership of any particular spells or types of magic save for family magic. My Fiendfyre had helped me in more ways than Dumbledore knew, more than I ever wanted him to know. Though it was dark arts, it was very cleansing in a way.

Still, I made a face for him—because it was illegal stuff. "I understand, sir." I didn't want to get in trouble with the old toads at the ministry. My status only bought me so much leeway.

Dumbledore inspected me for a long moment. His half-spectacles glinted in the evening sunlight. I could just barely make out a calculating expression behind them. He was up to something again.

"Is there something you would like to tell me, Harry?"

I inwardly groaned. He could read me too easily even without a mental intrusion; however, I wasn't going to budge on my little secret. I sorely did not wish for my parents and Olivia to freak out over my new favorite spell that I shared with Voldemort of all people. My stomach was close to flipping at that, but I kept composed, thinking through my options.

I settled on: "Why didn't you tell me Snape was a Death Eater? That he loved Mum and betrayed her."

For the first time, I saw what a surprised Dumbledore looked like. The way his magic stilled to a frozen block was frightening, and the way he looked at me was disturbing. Like he was looking at a… I didn't know. I just hadn't seen Dumbledore give me this look before, as though he were afraid. Not quite, however.

"James' invisibility cloak. You overhead."

I nodded. "Olivia did. She told me. Sorry," I said in a small voice.

"This is why you lost control at Severus? Not because of your memories of Fleur Delacour?"

"Both, sir, but more so Snape being a Death Eater." It was getting easier to lie, and I was growing guiltier by the word. A cold weight settled into my throat.

After a strained moment, he sighed. "I did not wish to burden you with such a truth, Harry. You've already so, so much to handle for someone so young. Please know we kept this from you with your best interests at heart." As usual. "There are many terrible, terrible truths in the world, and sometimes, we may prefer ignorance over knowledge."

Right. Ignorance over knowledge.

I took a breath, stretched my back, fought myself to not argue. "And you trust Snape, even though he was a Death Eater?"

"I trust Severus with my life."

"Because he loves Mum?"

He nodded.

I swallowed stomach acids. I had to ask, "Are they having an affair?" Please, please be no.

Dumbledore jolted back, a comical look on his face. "Why would you think that?"

Shrugging, I looked away. "I was just being worried again, and Olivia said it could be possible."

His brows lifted. "Many things could be possible, Harry, even the bizarre and unlikely."

Merlin's beard! Why did I even ask?! A wave of nausea coursed through me as an image of Snape and Mum holding each other entered my mind. Sickening.

He cleared his throat, a twinkle in his eye. "However, it is in my experience that the vast majority our worries, insecurities, and fears deceive even the best of us for the worst. Voldemort was driven mad by his fear of death. Don't let your fears destroy you."

Okay, that was actually somewhat helpful. I sighed in relief. "So you don't know?"

"I do not, and I wouldn't hold Lily in such low faith either. She was one of the brightest and best witches of her year—in Gryffindor." He looked to the left of me for a moment, for whatever reason.

That was the best I was going to get from him. The only way I'd get a for-sure answer was asking either Mum or Snape, and if they really were doing the unspeakable, they'd probably lie to me anyway. I just needed to stop worrying about things so much. They were adults. They could handle their business.

"Alright, that makes sense." I swallowed, changed the subject. "So are we still doing lessons till the Quidditch match?"

Dumbledore looked at me sharply. "Only if you're comfortable with it, and only if your parents approve."

"Do they?" It better be yes.

He nodded.

I almost pumped my fist into the air. "Then I'm comfortable with it. Snape's stronger spell caught me off guard earlier. I'll keep him out next time, I'm sure."

"That's good to hear." He leaned in really close. He said in a near-whisper, "And between you and me, Harry, if Fiendfyre weren't of the Dark Arts, I would highly commend your control over it, whether it was accidental or not. Very, very few are able. I must say I am impressed."

Utter shock silenced me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Wasn't Dumbledore the lord of light magic or whatever? I had thought he utterly despised any form of darkness. Well, I guess I was wrong about that too. I didn't know him that well, and he was… however many years old. Maybe he had a bad streak during his younger days. "Ah… Thank you, sir."

He nodded and stood with a parting smile. "Take care."

Dumbledore disappeared with a nearly inaudible crack, bits of white haze at his sides. He was able to apparate through his own Fedelius Charm, of course, and the display only further pushed me closer to finding an apparition tutor in the alleys. There were plenty of shady characters who'd take my gold.

Suddenly, Olivia's aura appeared next to me. I startled, my healed side lashing as I twisted. The invisibility cloak again. Jeez. I prepared for the worst.

She shouted way too loudly, "You should've seen yourself! That was incredible! How did you do that with the chimera?!"

She'd missed the part about Fiendfyre? I rolled my eyes and dodged her question. "What's a chimera?"

She lightly punched my arm. "It's like a dragon with multiple heads, dork."

We descended into our usual chatter about this and that. She didn't seem to care that Mum probably wasn't having an affair, and I was extra-careful to not let any of my new secrets slip. They could all potentially jeopardize my upcoming surprise date with Fleur. She would see how much better my Occlumency would be.

I asked at one point, "By the way, Dad's still taking us to the Quidditch match, right?"

"Is a certain Veela on your mind?"

"Just answer, or I'll unleash my chimera on you," I said playfully. I'd never actually do something like that, of course.

"How scary." She giggled. "Yes, we're still going. I asked for you. They're coming up in a bit. You're welcome."

"Thanks." I smiled. A real, happy smile.


A/N The last chapter was supposed to be a kind-of psychotic breakdown where all the stresses on Harry's psyche reached a tipping point. Fleur wasn't the only reason he snapped, only the tipping point. Hopefully, this chapter cleared it up, and I also slightly edited the part where he tells Snape to back off to make it a bit clearer.

AaronD1/CuriousGuest: I hope this is satisfactory. I split this chapter in two to accommodate that part of the talk.

Guest: Lmao... You seem to have an unhealthy fixation on mentally unstable boys. Tell us how you feel. Let it all out, because Harry's obsession with Fleur is going to get pretty deranged. I'm glad my writing is able to invoke such hate for a character.

Smutley: When they're older, if Gabby can't keep her knickers on around Harry, then Fleur might (stress might) share him with her for a night or two, though it's unlikely I'd plan to write this in at this stage. This story is more about a boy with way too much power pushed to his psychological limit.