A/N: wow, you all will probably kill me for such a late update! I had terrible writer's block, I'm soooooo sorry. So I made this chapter extra thick with goodies!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"Dumbledore, are you mad?"

Dumbledore turned at Monague's outburst, once he, Dumbledore and Anestrothea were all outside in the corridor.

"I have been accused of such quite often, but no, I think I'm not," the old wizard replied with a tired grin.

Monague only became more furious; "We cannot leave that… traitor, in there."

"Traitor! You are the one who signed with He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named!" Anestrothea said heatedly, rounding on the other elf.

"Gentlemen, if you would kindly refrain!" Dumbledore interjected; "IT is bad enough my students engage in such bickering, but really, two grown adults?"

Anestrothea straightened the collar of his robes. "Albus, perhaps I might stay the night? At least until Brenna is well enough to go home," he added, changing the subject.

"Why of course, old friend," Dumbledore said; "Would you like a bed as well?"

Monague huffed; "No, thank-you, I will be leaving," he said brusquely. "Gentlemen," was his only word of parting as he brushed past the two.

"Quiet the irate fellow, wouldn't you say?" Dumbledore muttered with mirth.

Anestrothea chuckled, then thoughtfully replied; "Yes, but that is how they're grown in the Mega Region…"

The following morning shined down on a peaceful, misleading scene. In one bed, a girl, silent, and still, and in another, a young man older than his face perceived. And sitting in a chair, wide awake, sat the boy everyone counted on. Weary, exasperated, and frustrated, Harry Potter waited and waited. He held the cool hand of Brenna, though it was warm he knew it was too cold. He spoke of soft things; things that would have otherwise caused her to laugh, things that would have pleased her. No, no talk of war, or destiny, or fate, or anything deep. Harry didn't want that. He would often stop and ask for her to return, beg for her to come around, and be whole again.

Madame Pomfrey walked out of her chambers, and saw Harry sitting there, where she had left him the night before. She stared sadly at the setting, her heart projecting nothing but remorse for the group. Quietly she walked over, and placed a hand on the teen's shoulder. The contact caused Harry to jump slightly, but in the end, it was nothing great.

"Harry," the mediwitch said quietly; "You can go rest if you wish. I'm here and I'll alert you if anything changes."

"No, I want to be here," Harry said, voice slurring slightly from fatigue.

"Harry, you need rest," Madame Pomfrey insisted. "If you don't at least lie down in that bed, I will force a sleeping drought down your throat!"

The threat was far from empty. Harry looked up to her, and then stood. Walking over to the bed beside Brenna's, he laid down. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, watching as Madame Pomfrey shuffled away. A long exhale emitted from a sore throat, and Harry fell asleep.

Ron hadn't slept well, in fact, he hardly had. When he and Hermione had been sent up to the Tower, Hermione made him go and retrieve Harry's invisibility cloak. Then, together they waited for nearly an hour, and then snuck down to the Restricted Section. Once there Hermione had collected nearly ten books and Ron soon became the pack mule. Returning to the confines of the Tower, they then sat by the fire and began pouring over dusty pages that had not seen any form of light in possibly decades. Ron quickly lost attention o f the matter, reading not a stronger point to his disposition, and twice fell asleep on the sofa. But Hermione had woken him up each time.

Now, the sun was faintly shining, just barely beginning to grace the earth with its light. Ron yawned for what had to have been the millionth time, and Hermione rolled her eyes as he exaggerated a stretch.

"What are we looking for, again?" Ron asked.

"Anything," Hermione replied, scanning a page; "Anything that could help us find out what's wrong with Brenna…"

"Well we know what that is," Ron said.

"Yes, but still, we don't know where she stands with the war," Hermione muttered, "I don't know, maybe we're trying to hard?"

Ron shrugged. A sudden tapping at a window caused them both to jump. Looking over, they saw three crows perched on the sill, one being Squawk. The other two were similar, though one was slightly smaller, a juvenile, and the other was older than its companions.

"Ron," Hermione said slowly, rising warily.

"Yeah, go get Harry," Ron finished, getting up quickly.

Again, Squawk pecked on the window impatiently, ruffling his feathers in a display of dominance. The oldest crow snapped its beak and nipped Squawk, who cawed loudly and flew off for a moment. The oldest bird looked at Hermione, deep penetrating eyes boring into her.

"No, open the window," Hermione said quietly; "Quickly, and then the portrait."

Ron stared at her, and then looked back at the window. With a sigh he walked over, and unlatched the window. The birds flew in, and Ron rushed to open up the portrait hole. The Fat Lady screamed as the crows careened out into the hallway, and darted off down to the stairwell. Hermione was following them in an instant.

With a groan, Ron followed.

"Shacklebolt, this cannot be tolerated."

Kingsley sat in the desk chair, listening to the lecture. Rufus Scrimgeour, the man who had replaced Cornelius Fudge, walked around the pristine office as he ranted to the Auror. Kingsley tried to stay sitting up, his conscience urging him to slouch in deliberate disrespect. He was not fond of the new Minister. Since his arrival, he had been barking orders, firing off witches and wizards, and most of all, shutting down investigations. Now it seemed that Kingsley's investigation was coming to an abrupt close.

In retrospect, he could not find any anger for this reality. For months he had been making up stories and false sightings of the ever elusive Sirius Black. But he himself knew the truth, and it hurt to be reminded of it. Sirius's death had dealt a blow for everyone. Kingsley was ready to let go, and move on. He knew that, with the closure, so could so many others. That's what people needed anyway, closer.

"The Black Case is finished. I want you out in the field."

Kingsley's eyes widened at this; "Sir?" he asked, perplexed.

Scrimgeour went to sit behind his desk; "You heard me," he said; "I want you out in the field. This silly desk work must end. We've no time for it. You're to be stationed primarily in Hogsmeade. There have been reports that You-Know-Who has begun to encroach upon Hogwarts, primarily for one Harry Potter."

Kingsley nodded, though he snorted indignantly within. OF course Voldemort was always after Harry Potter. But Kingsley doubted that the new Minister had been informed of another sinister evil. He doubted that the elves would wish any form of contact with Scrimgeour. He was a very brusque and conservative man.

"Also, in light of certain things, you may be taking on a part-time roll of Defense against the Dark Arts professor."

Now Kingsley sat straight and forward. Him, a teacher? He could barely tolerate children as it were, He considered very few to be good company. He could not see himself having the tolerance and patience for such an assignment.

"Sir, if I may…"

"I don't care if you don't want to, Shacklebolt, you have to," Scrimgeour seemed to sneer this statement, as if he got some sick pleasure and making others feel frustrated, and powerless.

Wanker, Kingsley thought bitterly as he leaned back in his chair, gnawing on his knuckle as he sorted his thoughts. He was not about to get out of this, he knew it. Scrimgeour was unmovable.

"Pack your things, Mister Shacklebolt," the Minister said; "You're going to Hogsmeade. A flat has been purchased for you; the ministry will cover rent until your stay is through."

Unlike before, Brenna woke up peacefully. The infirmary was quiet, and she enjoyed the silence. She felt energy all around her though, the buzzing in her ears building up. She rubbed her eyes and her vision focused, and the first thing she saw was Harry's plaintive, sleeping face. He seemed so worn out, so old for such a young face. The dark circles under his eyes had yet to vanish. Brenna felt a horrible pang of guilt, and ashamed she looked away.

Rolling over though, she only saw the back of her brother. She could not tell how he was doing; she could not read his face. Brenna sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and sighing. Desperately she wanted to sleep more, to become strong again. But the last episode had drained her, and now, she feared what she wanted most.

Her thoughts began to blend, to mix. She rubbed her eyes and then her temples. Why was she so confused? She was having trouble placing some names with faces, and faces with voices. A rush of memories with no allotted space in her mind suddenly overwhelmed her. She fell back onto the bed, curling up with her head in her hands. This had happened to her before, and if she had made it the first time, she would surely last this time. But the voices, the flashing scenes, the clutter…

Finally, it stopped. Brenna let go of the breath she had been holding, her body relaxing. She stared forward, not really seeing anything, as her mind registered and the world made sense again. She went slack, hands falling limply to the bed. She just lay there, overcome but not worn out enough to pass out.

"'Arry?" she whispered hoarsely, looking to the boy she had asked for.

Harry at first mad no movement, and she whispered his name again. This time his response was a groan, and Harry tossed the hair out of his face as he rolled onto his back to stretch. He looked over, eyes hooded. When he saw Brenna awake he grinned lopsidedly.

"'Ello, love," he mumbled, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed; "Gave me a scare earlier."

"Sorry," Brenna mumbled, blushing.

Harry chuckled and rose, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, Brenna's body consequently wrapping around his; "hungry?" he asked.

Brenna shook her head; "What time is it?" she asked.

Harry looked around, and shrugged; "I don't know, really," he replied casually, "morning, apparently."

"Oh," Brenna said, regarding the streaming sunlight; "'Arry…"

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at her worriedly. She spoke so softly, he had to lean down to hear her reply.

"I'm sorry."

Harry straightened back up; "Sorry for what?" he asked, just as quietly.

She scooted over, and invitation. Harry lay down, brushing locks of hair from Brenna's face. She stared at him plaintively. He saw tears pooling in her eyes.

"Brenna," he said as her eyes shut to hold back the tears and she bit her bottom lip. Harry instinctively held her, his arms holding her small, diminished form against his. "You'll be fine…" he whispered, the only coherent thing in his sweet nothings.

"I'm bound t' die, 'Arry," she sobbed, and he only held her closer.

"Of course not," he replied, looking down as he held her face up with his hand; "You're too strong."

Brenna could only frown; "So you say," she said, jerking her head away and looking down.

Lost for words and endearment, Harry only kissed her forehead. Brenna sighed, and held onto Harry's shirt for comfort, grabbing to something she knew was physical and real. Suddenly, a loud crack went through her mind, and her eyes popped open wide.

Harry noticed; "What?" he asked.

"Someone's here."

Hermione followed the three crows, her feet carrying her faster than she ever imagined. Her heart pumped adrenaline through her and she felt light as air. She did not understand why the birds were so methodical in their wanderings. They went to the third floor, then to the fifth, then to the sixth and finally up towards the astronomy tower. They found the winding staircase and followed upward to the trap door. The oldest landed just below it, Squawk following suit. The youngest though, scratched and cawed at the trap door. Hermione climbed the stair after them, hearing Ron behind her, and finally, she reached the platform.

Still high on her adrenaline rush, she quickly pieced together what the birds wanted. Waving her wand the trapdoor and accompanying ladder fell down, and the birds went out into the open. Curious, Hermione followed. But when Ron grabbed her ankle on her assent, she looked down.

"Don't…go…" Ron panted.

"Get Dumbledore?" she asked quietly.

Ron let go of her ankle, staring at her, trying to find out what she was thinking. But he was not better off and so with a huff he left, back down the stairs. Hermione turned and continued up the ladder, beginning to feel the results of her running.

The crows were all along the tower walls, cawing to on another conversationally. When Hermione surfaced they quieted, and they watched as she regained her breath. Squawk cawed at the youngest crow, who in turned clicked his beak at the eldest.

Hermione watched as the oldest crow hopped down onto the parapet. It let out a caw and bent over as its body began to convulse. It grew larger and feathers receded for fabric, beak disappeared for a face. Wings were traded for arms and talons for boots. Fine, billowing robes appeared, and then a cane. When the transformation was complete, Kasimir Gastolph was standing there.

"Ah, Miz Granger, I presume?" he asked, holding his hand. He held an eloquent smile to his features, hoping she would respond in kind.

But Hermione stood straight, merely staring. Kasimir's face fell with his hand, and he coughed; "I assume dat Mister Potter is wit' the elfin child," he said, looking around; "Vell, I s'pose you have sent for Albus? Dis is good, shame do that you do not trust me…"

"Why should I?" Hermione snapped bitterly. She had read all about vampires, and knew about their treacherous and selfish ways.

"Ah, chil', you read, do you not?" Kasimir had a knowing twinkle in his dark eyes; "Well, perhaps you vould like to meet my reason for fighting?" he turned to the youngest crow, and nodded.

In the same nature as Kasimir, the crow began to change. Black feathers became unkempt brown hair; beady black eyes became wide, deep sapphire pools. Feathers became simple teen's clothing, and talons were traded for worn boots. The young man finally raised his head, stuffed his hands in his pockets. Finally, a long coat manifested, and the transformation was inclusive.

"My son, Tristan…"

Hermione blinked. "What do you want?" she asked.

Kasimir sighed; "I knew you vould follow me, you are intelligent. But by no means did I expect you to be so… brusque," he said.

Hermione blinked in confusion; "Oh," she said.

Kasimir nodded; "Vill you please take us to Albus?"

But there was no need. Ron came bounding up the ladder, reaching Hermione's side with a puzzled; "What the bloody hell?" as he did.

The young man, Tristan, muttered something in another language smugly as he averted his gaze elsewhere.

Ron shot him a glare, and then turned to Hermione; "who's that?" he asked.

"Remember the little crow?" Hermione replied, holding her hands apart slightly to show the size.

"No!" Ron said

"Ahem," Kasimir said.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, "Dumbledore's coming, along with McGonagall…"

"Oh, we should really get down from here, then," Hermione said, then she looked at Kasimir; "I'm sure you can understand why."

"Of course," Kasimir said with a nod; "After you."

The group went down the ladder and then down the stairs, finding McGonagall and Dumbledore waiting for them. Dumbledore smiled and shook hands with Kasimir.

"Ah, Mister Gastolph, my good friend! How long has it been?" Dumbledore asked with an infectious laugh.

The vampire smiled in kind; "Too long my friend and it iz terrible, my reason for being here."

"Oh, well then, come to my office. But wait, who is this strapping fellow?" Dumbledore asked, seeing Tristan.

Kasimir placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "This is my son, Tristan," he replied; "That is vhy vee are here, mostly."

Dumbledore nodded. He then turned to Ron and Hermione; "Would you two please go to the infirmary?"

"Um, of course sir, but…" Hermione began; "why?"

Dumbledore smiled; "Well, if I'm correct, Brenna is awake and so is Harry. And I'm sure you've lost to talk over."

Hermione understood; "Come on, Ron," she said, taking the afore mentioned boy's hand as she left.

"Minerva, have accommodations ready, would you?" Dumbledore asked, and the old witch nodded.

"Of course," she said, and she too, turned to leave.

Kasimir sighed; "Something has happened."

Tea and sandwiches were brought to the office. Dumbledore and Kasimir sat off to the side, in the little nook with wide windows overlooking the peaceful grounds of the schools. Tristan had taken to the personal library Dumbledore possessed, as well as Fawkes, the phoenix. The majestic bird sat on a pillow next to the boy, who stroked the long fiery feathers.

Dumbledore glanced back to see Tristan preoccupied, and then looked to the vampire; "What troubles you, Kasimir?" he asked worriedly, in the vampire's native Estonian.

Kasimir sighed, sipped on his tea; "You-Know-Who came to my home, wanting to form an alliance," he replied; "He… he has threatened my son, Dumbledore. He told me that if I did not start gathering up fellow vampires and siding with 'his cause', he would kill my son, and throw me into a life of despair. I know this man—this thing—can do such a thing. I can handle a life of despair, I am living one now. But if he were to take away Tristan…" Kasimir looked over his shoulder for a moment; "No, I would rather die a thousand deaths. I have com for two reasons. One, to let you know that You-Know-Who is growing desperate. It is obvious because he is going to great lengths, lengths he never has before, to get more troops.

"When he came to me, he was a shell of the image everyone has believed. He seemed… to be dying. I am guessing that his soul is growing weary, or whatever soul he has not destroyed yet…"

Dumbledore nodded; "This is bittersweet news," he said; "And, I'm guessing that the second reason is you want safety for Tristan?"

Kasimir nodded; "I realize this is a lot to ask," He said; "But, I will help in any way possible. I understand that this is a school, not a safe house, but…"

"Fret not, Kasimir, I will keep watch over your son," Dumbledore; "But, I must know some things about him, first."

"He suffers from my affliction," Kasimir said regretfully; "He is almost seventeen. He has a sharp mind and is rebellious to a certain degree. But he will cause no trouble, I assure you."

"Well, I hope not!" Dumbledore said with an easy laugh; "I have enough trouble with Harry Potter and his friends!"

Kasimir chuckled as well; "Thank you, Albus," he said earnestly.

Seamus woke up to the sound of construction. Grumbling he poked his head through his curtains to see that the tower appeared…larger? Over on the opposite side, he saw that house elves were busy putting another bed together. Seamus stood up and saw Dean and Neville watching by the furnace.

"We getting another student?" Seamus asked. His roommates shrugged.

"Looks like it," Dean said.

"I just hope he isn't an arse," Neville said.

Harry studied Brenna's features; "Don't worry about," he said quietly as they snuggled closer together.

But Harry was brought upright as the door burst open and Ron and Hermione ran over.

"That Vampire's here!" Hermione said between her breaths.

"Really?" Harry asked.

Brenna just tried to sink into the bed as they talked.

"Yeah," Ron said; "Has his kid with him too."

"No way," Harry said, and the two nodded.

"He seemed really upset, Harry," Hermione said; "I think it had something to do with… You-Know-Who…"

Harry looked down, and rubbed his eyes; "Wow," he said finally, looking up; "That's a lot to take in."

Ron nodded; "I have a bad feeling that kid is gonna get stuck with us."

TBC

A/N: uh oh, foreshadowing! Please review!