Hagrid made his way through the Forest alone. Earlier he'd received a message from the centaurs asking him to come to them. May be they had news of the trapper. Having gone on a fruitless search for more traps, he'd let them now. Taking care to make sounds, he walked softly to the meeting place, keeping an eye out for anything unusual in the hedges. Though he doubted he'd find any more traps, he kept looking for them.

"Hagrid," one of the centaurs came forward and greeted him.

The half-giant nodded and stood, waiting for a sign of what they wished of him.

777

Remus rolled over. He felt restless in side of in the infirmary. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave. Grey eyes stared blankly at the wall. It didn't help still the thoughts in his mind, though it was something.

Now that the pain had receded somewhat, he could think about what he'd learned from the headmaster's visit. His mind spinning with the implications of what he heard, he felt that he couldn't breath. Severus Snape had taught his class.

Snape, the potions master who wanted his job even though it was obvious to everyone where his real talents were.

The Professor who knew what he was and had every reason to tell the students the truth.

Well, right or wrong, Snape thought there was a reason to tell and when Snape held onto an idea like that, nothing short of death would pull it free. Remus wasn't sure even death would do it. The Slytherin was stubborn.

Groaning, he closed his eyes and moved. A sharp twinge hit him and he waited, panting until the pain faded away a bit. He couldn't understand what was going with his body. Never before had he had such an adverse reaction to the potion before.

In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what he was going to face in his classroom. Students eager for learning, ready for what he had to teach them.

Or a classroom full of students who feared for their lives and cowered, wondering when he would change and lash out at them.

It was something to look forward to tomorrow, he thought with a sardonic twist of his lips.

777

"Well? What did the headmaster have to say to you?" Ron pounced on him the moment he entered the Common Room.

Sighing, he went upstairs and flopped onto the bed. Flinging his arm up, he covered his eyes to block out the light. Ron followed him, asking questions non-stop until Harry resigned himself to speaking. "Just asked me about how I felt about taking some private lessons in preparation for the future."

"We're in our third year," Ron protested, sitting down. "Why would you want to be thinking about the future now?"

Taking a moment to move his arm, the boy glared at his friend. "Because of Voldemort is still out there and I will have to fight him one day. Will you two stop shuddering whenever I say his name? I refuse to call him by that ridiculous moniker he's got in this world." He added, noticing Hermione in the doorway.

"Harry's right, Ron." Hermione said quietly, cradling Crookshanks in her arms.

"You get that bloody cat out of here. He almost ate Scabbers." Grateful as he said the words that Scabbers was with Neville and his toad. Of all the things he needed, a frightened rat was not on of them.

"Oh, stop it," she frowned at him. "Crookshanks wouldn't try to eat your rotten, old, scabby rat for any reason. He's probably feeling neglected and is framing my cat in an attempt to get your attention."

"Don't be so stupid, Hermione. Scabbers is a Gryffindor rat," he denied hotly. "He wouldn't do something so, so Slytherin."

"Real mature, Ron. I can't believe you said that."

"Well believe it because I did," he replied snarkily.

Ignoring him, she turned to Harry. "We went to the library after you and the headmaster left and looked into a few things. Weasley here thinks that you have a touch of the necromancer about you."

"Necromancer?" he repeated. "What's that mean?"

"It means that you are stronger than the normal wizard," she started.

"That's just great," he moaned, burying his face again. "My wizarding powers are like me, unnatural. Just once I'd like to be normal."

"Actually, Harry, they are normal for a wizard of your bloodline. We have quite a few necromancers in my family. It isn't a big deal," Ron offered cheerfully.

His mumbled voice reached their ears. "Ron, don't help."

Instead of being offended by this remark, he cheekily smiled at Hermione. "See? He doesn't want me to look through books for him. I told you he'd want me to check out the strangers who went to see Snape."

This reminded brought Harry out of his funk and he looked at them expectantly. "What did they want with the greasy git?"

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected sharply. Putting Crookshanks down, she folded her arms across her chest and glared at them. "Really, boys, we are in our third year. We should act accordingly."

"Whatever," Ron muttered, waving her words off. "She wouldn't let me follow them to find out what was going on. Said I'd be more help to you by looking for stuff in the library."

"Hermione," Harry semi-whined. "How could you? This was the perfect chance to find out what Snape knows about what's happening to me."

She sniffed. "Excuse me for trying to help you out. I thought that having someone else around here who knows how to read and search for clues would be more beneficial in the long run than spying on a teacher."

"That's not what I meant," he started.

Hermione was not in the mood to hear it. The Gryffindor turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. Crookshanks hissed and followed her, tail in the air.

Ron sighed. "That cat is a bloody nightmare-and Hermione isn't acting any better."

"Ron," Harry said, and then sighed. "Oh, why bother."

777

"Severus, we may have developed a problem."

"With?" she absently asked, stirring the potion counter-clockwise. It was almost finished and could sit for a bit, she thought. Fawkes chirped a greeting, settling back down on his perch with a slight sigh. "As if I need to ask?"

"This is important," Albus stated.

"Anything having to do with the famous Mister Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' Potter always takes precedence over everything else," she drawled. Nevertheless, she put away her work and turned to face him.

"Severus," Albus warned. "Do not push me. I have heard the most distressing thing."

"He's come into his necromancy heritage before anyone expected? Though not as early as I did," she guessed.

Albus' eyes narrowed as he stared at her while she cleaned a seat for him in the room. "You knew of this?" he questioned, not sitting down just yet.

The professor sighed. "When he told me of hearing the bells, I surmised what was happening to him. I don't know why you are so surprised, you were the only one of us who was expecting something like this."

"Wrong," he corrected as he moved to the seat. In unison, they sat down. "I thought that he would develop along the same time line his mother had."

"Ah, but Lily did not have a Dark Lord forcing her to mature magically," she pointed out.

"You think that is the true?" he asked. "You don't think that there is the slightest chance that there is a different reason for his magical growth spurt?"

"What other reason could there be?"

Instead of answering her, he asked her a question. "Tell me, how close is your family line to that of the Potters?"

"What kind of question is that? You know the answer already."

"And the Evans family?" he pressed.

"We aren't related at all."

"You are absolutely sure of that? Could you tell me in perfect honesty that you are not related to Lily Evans?" he pushed her to think about it.

She paused, giving his question the thought it obviously deserved. "To the best of my knowledge, Lily and I are related only through our shared magical gift. There is the minutest possibility that we are related by blood, though I doubt that."

The headmaster was silent, staring at his potions professor and debating with himself. "Did you and Mr. Potter have a relationship before his marriage to Lily? Or after?"

"We were colleagues. That was the extent of our relationship," she sneered. "What is this about, Headmaster?"

Holding her eyes to emphasize the gravity of what he was about to ask, he waited. When he was sure Severus was giving him her full attention, he asked in a quiet voice, with no inflection. "Is Harry Potter is your son?"