Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the last chapter of this particular part of the story, but it will continue onwards after that.

Part Twenty-Eight

"What is this about, Minerva?"

Severus stood with his arms folded in front of Minerva's desk. He knew that she'd been working hard on teaching Transfiguration as well as being the Headmistress, interviewing people to take over the Transfiguration classes for her, dealing with Quirinus's Healers, and attending to all the other small frictions of the school that happened between the teachers and students. He still didn't think that should have caused this amount of darkness in her eyes.

"I received this letter yesterday, Severus," she said, and held it out to him.

Severus read it quickly. It was from Amelia Bones, and it outlined, in bald language, the claims Albus had made just before they had put him into the Dream Labyrinth. The word "Horcrux" leaped out and burned into Severus's eyes.

He lowered the letter and looked at Minerva. "You believe him," he said hoarsely.

"Not about the Horcrux being the reason that Harry has a golden familiar, no." Minerva leaned wearily back against the window and stared out at the snow sifting down over the grounds. "But about the Horcrux existing in poor Harry's scar? Yes."

"Then you think that is the method Voldemort has used to gain immortality." Severus felt illness eating at his stomach. He knew of Horcruxes as he did most other Dark curses and Dark Arts; he had studied those voraciously when he first joined the Death Eaters. But he had never thought someone would use them.

They required, among other things, cutting off a bit of a familiar's body and throwing it into the murdered body that was the source of the Horcrux's vile power.

That he would mutilate his familiar—that she would allow him—

Of course, there were other ways to corrupt a familiar. For all Severus knew, Voldemort had done those things long before he made his first Horcrux, and coerced Nagini into agreeing with him.

"Yes, I do." Minerva jolted Severus back into the conversation with her words. "And I have no idea how to discover where they are, or how many there are. There must be more than one. I do not think that the one he created in Harry is—he cannot know about it, Severus, or he wouldn't have attacked him the way he did in the ritual circle."

Severus nodded. He had already come to the same conclusion. "Quirinus has no ideas?"

"I've interviewed the poor man again and again, and so has his Mind-Healer. I believe him when he says the wraith never shared the information with him."

Severus sighed. He hated the thought, but he did believe Quirinus was telling the truth. Which left them in possession of one horrible truth, but not the ones that would have aided in destroying the Horcruxes.

He did have one more thing that he wanted to say, though. "Even if it's the truth about Harry's scar, I'm not going to help anyone kill the boy."

"Kill? Severus, what—"

"I think that was Albus's plan." Severus had thought he'd descended to the absolute depths when it came to Albus Dumbledore, but now the nausea clawed heavily at his belly. "That he believed that he would have to kill the boy, or perhaps Golden, to get rid of the Horcrux, and get rid of Voldemort. For all we know, he might come out of the Dream Labyrinth still believing it. I'm not going to stand aside and let anyone harm the boy or his familiar."

"Of course not," Minerva muttered, after a minute of stunned silence. "I'd help you defend him. I—it makes horrible sense that Albus would think of that. But I'm never going to think of it, Severus. If that helps you."

Severus nodded shortly. Then he picked up the letter that Madam Bones had sent to Minerva and read it over again, before putting it aside so that he could discuss which candidate she should hire to take over her Transfiguration duties. He was Deputy Headmaster now in all but name.

He knew, as he went back to his office that night, that he would take that position. It would help him fulfill his oath to protect Harry, and it would do Slytherin House good to have someone in so powerful a post who could advocate for them.

And it will help me be ready if Albus ever breaks out of the Labyrinth or comes back, Severus admitted to himself as he sat stroking Shadowstriker, staring into the flames of the fire on the hearth.

"Can you stay behind after class, please, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded at Hermione's and Neville's concerned faces, and stepped up to Professor Quirrell. The man had returned to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts after a few weeks in the hospital wing. His face was almost back to a normal color now. He had spent the whole class in contact with Alanna. Either she was on his lap, or she was sitting on his foot while he stood, or she rode his shoulder when Professor Quirrell had to demonstrate a spell.

And the stutter was gone. Harry knew that even the people who didn't have a clue Professor Quirrell had been possessed were grateful for that.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked politely. He had no more fear of Professor Quirrell. The man had attacked him because he was possessed. He wasn't possessed anymore. So he wasn't going to attack Harry anymore. That seemed simple to Harry, even though he knew that some people disagreed.

Professor Quirrell just looked at him with a still face for a while. Then he shivered and bent over, hanging onto Alanna. At first Harry thought he was going to be sick or something, and looked around for something he could use as a bin. Then he realized that the professor was bowing to him for some reason.

"Don't do that, sir, please," Harry said. He reached out and tried to help Professor Quirrell up. He glanced at Golden, but Golden was gently touching Alanna's chin with his nose, nudging her head back up from where she had been bowing to him, too.

"You saved my life. You kept me from simply being cast out of the school, or destroyed because I had gone after the Stone or disappointed my—the wraith."

Harry sighed and got Professor Quirrell to sit down in a chair, which made the bow a little better. He still wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, though. "Please, sir. I came up with some of the plan, but I'm not the one who actually performed the ritual that freed you, you know? And I did a stupid thing by getting close enough that Voldemort tried to possess me."

Professor Quirrell shivered at the name. Harry winced. He said it all the time out of habit, but now that he thought about it, Professor Quirrell had a reason to be afraid of it. "Sorry," Harry added.

Professor Quirrell nodded and finally looked at him. Alanna was sitting up and grooming her ears, looking a little calmer now. "I—accept that you did this for many reasons, Mr. Potter, and not just to save my life," he said. "But I need to repay the life-debt that lingers between us somehow."

"I know how you can do that."

"How?"

"Be a good teacher," Harry said simply. "Please, sir. I know that you know a lot about the Dark Arts." Professor Quirrell shuddered, and Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you about being possessed."

"No, I—I need the reminder. I know why I was possessed. I was weak. He promised me power, and I was weak enough to crave it." Professor Quirrell took a deep breath. "How will being a good teacher help, Mr. Potter?"

"Because there are lots of people who need to know how to defend themselves." Harry closed his hands hard on Professor Quirrell's arm. "And that means they have to know how to protect themselves against people other than just him."

After a moment, Professor Quirrell nodded slowly. "Did you know that there is supposedly a curse on the Defense post that means a professor who teaches this subject has to leave after only one year?"

Harry straightened up. "I heard some of the older students saying something about that, but I thought they were joking! That's horrible, Professor. How can the governing board just keep hiring teachers and not doing anything about it?"

Professor Quirrell sighed. "Some of them don't believe that the curse exists, Mr. Potter. It's never been actually proven. Others don't care that much. They say that it doesn't matter what the children are being taught as long as they can still pass their OWL's and NEWT's. Or they pull out their own children to tutor privately."

Harry frowned. "Then we have to do something about that, too."

"Who is we, Mr. Potter?"

"What?" Harry glanced up in distraction. Professor Quirrell was watching him very closely, as though he thought Harry would suddenly go flying out of the classroom and try to challenge Voldemort or something.

"Some people and me," Harry said. He wasn't going to name anyone who didn't want to be named; he wasn't even sure that Draco wanted to be. "Some of the same ones who helped me research the possession ritual," he added, because Professor Quirrell hadn't stopped staring. "It's really okay, Professor. I'm not going to try to do anything without speaking to an adult first."

That didn't appear to reassure Professor Quirrell. "I believe there is a curse, Mr. Potter. I have been teaching here long enough to see it claim a multitude of victims." He fell silent, stroking Alanna. Then he said, "I want to join you."

Harry glanced at Golden. If there was still something untrustworthy about the professor or he was trying to spy on them, then Golden would say no, he was sure. But Golden only lifted his head and nodded.

"All right, sir," Harry said. "Right now, we're pretty small, and we're just talking to each other and having our familiars talk to each other." He smiled a little at the way Professor Quirrell's eyes widened. "It's important, sir."

Professor Quirrell pulled up a chair. "Tell me more."

Narcissa read over the letter with a small frown. It was typical of the letters Draco usually wrote. He thanked his mother for the sweets she had sent him, asked how Father and Venus and Hecate were, told her about the latest spells he had learned, boasted a little (in a perfectly acceptable way) about his O on a Potions essay, and said that he had some difficulty with Transfiguration, but nothing he couldn't overcome. He did mention Harry Potter, but only twice. It didn't sound as though he was unduly influenced.

Still…

Narcissa was wary. Something had been left out, changed, although without Albus Dumbledore in the school anymore, at least she didn't think someone had been invading Draco's mind. She reached out her hand, and Venus came and leaned against her fingers, letting Narcissa scratch behind her neck.

"I wish I could make him understand that someone with a golden familiar only needs to be followed in public," Narcissa murmured to Venus as she rose to take the letter to Lucius. He was busy in his study, too busy to venture to the Owlery at the moment. "In private, Draco may be master. Do you think, perhaps, that he has no ambition to be master?"

Venus looked up at her with shining, startled eyes. Narcissa revised her memories of her son's childhood and chuckled a little.

"No, you are right. It cannot be that."

Venus relaxed with a small purr, and they went to find Lucius and Hecate. Narcissa tried to put the disturbing conclusions out of her mind.

They remained anyway.

Minerva sighed as she put down the stack of paperwork. Albus had left more of it undone or ignored than Minerva ever knew. She had found so many letters from the governing board that had never been answered, and communications from the Ministry that Albus might not have glanced at, and private notes that had—disturbing information, especially considering Mr. Potter's previous living conditions.

And there was a locked drawer she hadn't managed to find the right incantation or key to open. Minerva frowned at it and drew her wand for another try. This time, she used an ancient Greek spell combined with a spot of her own blood and a brush of a feather from Fawkes that he had dropped just before he and Albus had been taken away.

There was a sharp click, and the drawer opened.

Minerva drew in her breath as she bent over it. Inside was a thick book, though filled with what seemed to be loose sheets of parchment instead of pages. Minerva hefted it in her hands and winced as the sharp sting of magic met her fingers. But in a few seconds, those sensations died away. Perhaps the book had recognized that she was the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, and perfectly well-suited to handle it.

Minerva opened it to the first page.

And had to sit down, because there was what looked like a list of past students of Hogwarts, their familiars, and—a notation by each name that said Natural, Unnatural, or Unknown.

Minerva closed her eyes and covered them with a trembling hand. Malkin leaped up on the desk and stalked over to her, meowing anxiously. Minerva reached out to trace his flank with one hand.

"I don't know what it is yet," she whispered. "But I am afraid."