Chapter Seventeen: The Dark Lord's Right Hand

November 19th, 1984 | Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

Harry had sensed it coming. He had thought he had the Hungarian Horntail tamed with an understanding of mutual benefit, but then a feeling of dark magic passed over him. And before Harry could blink, the dragon was sweeping towards him. With the speed of only a Seeker, Harry spun around and sent out a massive shadow that stopped the Horntail dead in its tracks. But then something hit him. Literally. Harry was sent flying backward straight into the Champion's tent, dropping his egg to the ground as the entire crowd around him screamed in horror. Many were running for their lives as the dragon got free and began to breathe flames down on the wooden stands. The tent had collapsed around him, keeping him from getting to his feet.

"Harry!" The piece of tent lying on top of him suddenly levitated high into the air before being banished directly into the head of the dragon, who snapped her attention directly towards Harry. The shadowmancer was pulled to his feet by none other than Cedric Diggory, who was accompanied by Viktor and Fleur. They all had their wands were drawn, determination and fear equal in their expressions. The four Champions of the Triwizard Tournament turned their attention to the dragon in front of them, as well as the person who had banished Harry into the tent in the first place. Mad-Eye Moody. Barty Crouch Jr. Why had he abandoned his secret so quickly? Had he been angry that Harry completed the task so easily? It didn't matter. "What do we do?" Cedric questioned.

"Help the dragon-tamers handle the Horntail. I'll take care of the Professor," Harry replied. The three Champions took off towards the Hungarian Horntail, leaving behind Harry and a seething Crouch Jr. With the wave of his hand, Harry's staff reappeared in hand, along with his dragonhide armor. He dressed with another wave and grinned beneath his goggles. "Barty Crouch Jr. To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected betrayal?" He had most definitely expected something like this. But not so early on in the Tournament. This was the first task, and there were another seven months until the night of Voldemort's resurrection was to occur. It didn't make any sense to him whatsoever. But Harry digressed. "Well?"

"My master wants you dead, Potter. I that blasted dragon can't do the job, then I will!" Barty slammed the real Mad-Eye Moody's staff into the Earth, sending a massive shockwave of dark magic in all directions. Harry acted quickly, waving his own staff as he placed shields around the shockwave. It blocked most of the wave's destruction, but it didn't stop the massive amounts of energy going directly into the Earth. The ground beneath them shook, putting everyone but Crouch off balance. The Horntail broke free of its newly damaged restraints and soared into the air, ignoring the spells being sent at it by the dragon-tamers and Champions. It flew over Harry, headed straight for the castle. "Shit," Harry breathed.

And with a cloud of black mist and a crack, Harry Potter stood both within the Tournament arena and on top of the castle's Astronomy Tower. He needed to be in two places at once, and so a shadow would have to do. But he knew that he couldn't keep it running for long. Harry needed to end the duel with Crouch Jr. and focus on the dragon or the other way around. He couldn't do both. Another blast of magic drew Harry's attention to Barty, who had run forward. He was no longer in the form of Mad-Eye Moody, the polyjuice potion in his blood running out. The man was himself again. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The maniac yelled, sending a bright beam of green directly at Harry, who merely held out his staff. The green beam of death hit the sphere on top of Harry's staff, powering it as Harry sent a powerful banishing curse at the ground below Crouch's feet.

It worked, and Crouch was sent flying backward in an ugly spend that ended in him slamming back-first into the stands above them. He wasn't dead. Crouch got to his feet and raised his staff, blood pouring freely from his head and mouth as the entire stadium broke. Wood began to fly into the air as the entire arena was disassembled before their very own eyes. It constructed a massive skull, which stilled for only a moment before falling to the ground directly over Harry. With the rise of his staff, Harry waved the large stick in a rectangular motion and focused as hard as he could on the transfiguration. The skull transformed into a large balloon, which then popped as a few hundred ravens shot towards Crouch with the intent to kill.

He sent out a killing curse towards the first few, but couldn't stop the other few hundred that surrounded him. They flew into him at full force, penetrating his skin with their beaks. But it wasn't enough. With a scream, the ravens were dispelled with a single curse, leaving Harry and Crouch alone on the empty lawn outside of the castle. The arena was gone. The Champions and the dragon-tamers had left to handle the Horntail alongside Harry's shadow. It was just the two of them. Or maybe not. "Barty!" The two turned to face the new arrival and were met with none other than Albus Dumbledore. He was carrying the Elder Wand in hand. "End this now. And perhaps Mr. Potter will spare your life,"

"Spare me?! Stop deluding yourself old man! It is I who will be taking two lives today," Crouch did the unexpected, firing over dozen curses in quick succession at both Harry and Dumbledore, who both needed to either dodge or deflect the spells as they hurtled towards them. Crouch then jumped into the air, levitating a rock below him as he began to rise, firing curses down on the two wizards as they did their best to continue dodging and deflecting. Dumbledore was right. Harry wouldn't kill Crouch. But this had to end right here and right now. He was getting tired. The fight with the dragon was lasting longer than he had anticipated. So Harry began to time the attacks and the pattern crouch used. Spell, curse, curse, jinx, spell, curse, jinx. Repeat. Each one had roughly half a second between them. Half a second to catch the man off guard. Good. Harry could work with that.

Harry took advantage of his half a second, firing an exploding curse directly at the rock Crouch was using to hover above them. It caught, and Crouch was flung into the air as one of his disarming spells broke through Dumbledore's defenses. The older man's wand was sent spiraling into the Forbidden Forest nearby, and Dumbledore fell to the ground, clearly tired from the barrage of curses that had been sent at him. Harry wanted to join him on the grass and pass out, but he needed to finish it. With a short sprint, Harry found where Crouch had landed, and frowned. The man was still alive. No matter what anyone said, Barty Crouch Jr was a tough bastard. But he was bleeding heavily. He wouldn't live long. "D-D-Damn you...P-P-Potter," He spat, blood coming from his mouth with each word.

"Tell me why Voldemort wants me dead," Harry spoke. He grabbed Crouch by the throat, glaring down at him.

"S-S-Screw you,"

"Tell me, and I'll save you," Harry offered.

"N-Never!" Harry felt a sting hit him in the abdomen and growled in annoyance. With strength he didn't know he had, he gripped Crouch's neck tighter, satisfied in the way it snapped in his hand. He served no use to Harry anyway other than to provide a few names. Names Harry had easily grabbed from the man's tortured mind. When Harry stepped away, he looked down to find a sizeable hole in his gut, which was the reason why he was bleeding down both his abdomen and back. It had gone straight through. "Harry,"

"Yeah?" Harry asked Dumbledore, who was now standing at his side. Harry leaned against the older wizard for support, his eyes growing slightly blurry as he tried to focus. But he didn't have it in him to heal himself. The power wasn't there anymore. He was exhausted. He wanted to sleep. To rest. "Harry. We need to get you to the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore advised. Harry nodded in agreement and promptly fell to the ground in a heap. Dumbledore could levitate him to the castle. And if he died on the way there...then oh well. He had had a good life.


Harry's shadow was having an equally rough time at the castle. Upon arriving at the Astronomy Tower, Harry was given a very difficult task. Kill or capture a murderous dragon that seemed to be immune to almost all magic. So he was left with three options. One; use extremely powerful magic that would make him pass out in seconds from the strain it took from concentrating on sustaining two bodies. Two; use shadows to contain and possibly kill the dragon, possibly causing him to pass out in seconds. Or three; turn into a mutant bioweapon and tear the dragon apart. He decided that the third option was not a good thing to try. And the first would like to drain him faster. So he decided to go with the second option. Shadowmancy.

He shot off of the Astronomy Tower, using levitating shadows below his feet to fly high over the castle. He was headed straight for the Hungarian Horntail, which was clinging to the bridge furthest east from the Quidditch Pitch. It was the only covered bridge at Hogwarts, being the largest and deepest, a large valley appearing below. Harry remembered crossing this bridge regularly, and even remembered the conversation he had had with Remus Lupin there. Harry destroyed it. He sent a shockwave of shadows at the bridge, attacking each and every support keeping the thing standing. And it came down in a crash of stone and wood. The Horntail was forced to jump into the air at the sudden loss of support, and that was exactly what Harry wanted.

Just like The Shadow, Harry grabbed the Horntail with a levitating shadow bubble, catching it inside as it tried its damndest to escape. "POTTER!" Harry spun his head to the left and spotted them. Oh shit. Snape was to his left below, standing on the edge of the entrance courtyard, looking down at the collapsed bridge below. But his gaze then shifted upwards, where three other creatures were flying towards the castle. The other Champions' dragons. What the fuck was going on? They were getting closer, and Harry was feeling the drain settling in from his other-self. This wasn't going to end exactly as he had planned. "Do something!" Someone yelled from down below, spurring Harry into action.

He took off, carrying the Horntail with him as he closed in on the other four dragons. When he was close, Harry chucked the bubble, watching with satisfaction as the Horntail slammed straight into the Short-Snout and Chinese Fireball. They spiraled to the ground, their wings catching each other. But the Common Welsh Green had been untouched and slammed head-first into Harry, who was sent flying backward through the air at high speeds. Crashing through the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower and landing face-first into the courtyard at the center of Hogwarts. The students around him screamed, backing away as the Common Welsh slammed down in front of them. It let out a roar, before breathing out a burst of flames down on the children, who were protected by the appearance of Minerva McGonagall.

The Deputy Headmistress ran from the bridge nearby, throwing up a large shield as quickly as she could. It worked, and the dragons' fire was useless as it hit the impenetrable wall. "Go! To the dungeons! Quickly!" She yelled, motioning towards the central building to the west. The students didn't need to be told twice, leaving their belongings behind as they sprinted for the dungeons. Harry slowly got to his feet, throwing up his own shield around the beast as he joined McGonagall. "I'm tired, Professor. I can't go on much longer,"

"Tired? Magically?"

"Something like that," Harry grunted. He grabbed the Common Welsh Green in its own shadow bubble and shot off into the sky once more. He didn't bother wasting time and decided to end it. Harry pressed his hand into a fist, watching as the bubble shrunk to the size of a penny, the dragon within. When he released the dragon, the penny-sized mound of flesh fell to the ground, hitting it with a 'BOOM!' as the ground crumbled below. Right. The mass stayed the same no matter the size. Harry would have to remember that the next time he crushed anything down to the size of a penny. So he took off once more, flying high above the castle as he surveyed the situation. The Horntail had died in the forest. Its injuries from before, the massive collision with the other two dragons, and landing on a bunch of trees had seemingly ended its life. That left the Swedish Short-Snout and the Chinese Fireball.

The Short-Snout was terrorizing the Astronomy Tower, clinging to it tightly as it breathed fire into the interior, burning it down. And the Chinese Fireball was circling around the Great Hall, breathing fire down onto the roof every so often. He decided to solve one problem easily. He sent an exploding curse at the base of the Astronomy Tower, and another north of the tower. The first explosion destroyed the base, sending it down to the ground. The second pushed it to the south, causing the tower to fall directly into the courtyard Harry had been in moments before. And it worked, the Astronomy Tower fell down directly onto the dragon, holding it still long enough for Harry to send a cutting curse into its skull. Three down, one to go.

With the speed of his Firebolt, Harry shot down to the Great Hall, powering all of his magic and his shadows into one spell. A spell that he fired directly at the Chinese Fireball's neck. The dragon let out a roar as its head suddenly snapped to the left, its wings falling suit as it began to spiral. It crashed into the bridge named 'Viaduct'. It led out of the castle towards the apparition point and a back entrance to Hogsmeade and the Train Station. The bridge held strong under the Fireball's weight, refusing to collapse as the creature stood to face Harry, who was flying straight down at an arc. He was fading. The original had been injured, and he was losing concentration. He would fade until he wasn't there. Harry wouldn't be able to finish the job.

He crashed through the roof of the Great Hall before slamming through a window that led outside. He rolled onto the bridge, coming to rest not far from the Chinese Fireball. It sensed Harry's weakness. His death. It was stomping forward, huffing and puffing. Harry had injured the creature greatly, but not enough. And he didn't have the strength to cast another curse or shadow, let alone stand up. So he stayed still, watching as the Fireball leered over him. It was just like The Shadow in the Upside Down. But this time there was no banishing charm to getaway. There was no grand fight. It was over. The Chinese Fireball leaned down, huffing a bit of steam directly into Harry's face, causing him to growl in pain. His skin had been burnt, though no one could really tell based on the fact that his skin was already peeling away in pieces of black dust.

And when Harry was sure that the dragon would put him out of his misery, the Chinese Fireball went still. Its eyes were on Harry's, but it was as still as a mannequin. And then Harry saw it. The blood. The blood poured out of the dragon's eyes. Harry gazed upwards and smiled. Eleven stood at the edge of the bridge, extending her hand outward as she watched the dragon. Blood had collected underneath both of her nostrils, and she was clearly straining very hard. But after a minute, the Chinese Fireball let out a small huff of smoke and fell over. Off of the bridge. And down to the depths into the river below. Good. Let the merpeople feast on its meat. "Harry!" Eleven ran to his side, followed closely by Mike, Joyce, and Hopper.

"Are you ok?" Joyce asked.

"I'm fine...just dying. The original. He's going to the Hospital Wing," They understood. They remembered the trick from the year before and began to notice the way his face began to break away into fragments of dust. "Are you guys ok?"

"We're fine. All of us. But Will. He collapsed at the arena," Mike explained.

"Collapsed?"

"He was clutching his forehead. He said it burned," Joyce replied. Burned. His forehead burned. Harry felt himself die a little inside. If it had been anyone other than Will, Harry wouldn't be concerned. But when Will said his forehead burned, Harry was inclined to believe him. It was a sign. A sign that something had transferred during the time that their souls were joined. Harry's forehead hadn't burned at all even when he had had the scar. But it definitely was a sign. A sign that Will now had a connection to Voldemort, as Harry had once had. It was the only reasonable answer.

"No...no...no. I need to see him," Harry pulled himself to his feet with all of his strength, grabbing Eleven and Mike for support as they helped him. "He can't...no. I need to see him,"

"Wait. What's wrong?" Joyce asked.

"You need to rest. Or let Harry rest. This can't be good for either of you," Hopper pointed out. It wasn't. But Harry didn't care. He clung onto Eleven, who guided him into the Entrance Hall. When they reached the Great Hall, everyone broke into applause at his winning the fight and his survival. But Harry couldn't be bothered with their cheering. He instead let El lead him towards the Hufflepuff table, where several other injured students and teachers were lying down. They found Will easily. He was unconscious, and his forehead was bright red. Harry let go of Eleven, collapsing down onto the table beside Will. He needed to see. Harry closed his eyes, using his Soul Sight to examine Will's soul. The dark blue that it had once been was gone. Replaced by a bright purple that shone throughout the boy's entire body. And within that purple were two other colors. Black and white.

He glanced down at himself and spotted that the black segment of his own soul was gone. It was gone from the original as well. Whatever the black soul was, it had transferred between the two of them. Harry had given Will some sort of disease. A plague. Or worse. Some sort of curse was placed on Harry before. But when? He had only been here a year, and few magicals that had resided in his past home universe were criminals and didn't know he existed. And while he had had quite a few haters in his fifth year at Hogwarts, every year before that had been nothing spectacular when it came to hatred and publicity. So Harry concluded that the curse had to have come from one of three events. The night his parents died, the night he killed Quirrell, and the night he was infected by the Basilisk.

He crossed out the Basilisk immediately. Its venom only affected the body, and not the soul, meaning it wouldn't have harmed Harry, let alone Will. So it was either cast on him by Voldemort or Quirrell, who had pretty much been Voldemort. But Dumbledore had been there that night in the Hospital Wing. If there had been any long-lasting effects, they would have known and would have had Harry treated at St. Mungos. So the only logical conclusion was that he had received the soul fragment the night his parents had died. The same night he had gotten his scar. The events all seemed to match. So the fragment was related to Voldemort. But it couldn't be Voldemort, could it? Just a curse. He would have to meet Voldemort in person to decide. Seven months.

"Well?" Hopper questioned.

"He's infected with...something. I can see it. But I don't know how to help. I might be able to remove it when I'm not exhausted," Harry replied. He leaned his head against Joyce's shoulder, closing his eyes as took in a deep breath. "Seven months,"

"Seven months?" Harry didn't hear Mike. In the blink of an eye, Harry Potter collapsed into a pile of dust that fell onto Joyce. The countless eyes that had been watching all widened, and many screamed in horror. They didn't know. But those who mattered to Harry most at the moment did, and they ignored those around them as they turned to Will. Joyce especially was worried. Will had always been a special boy for his imagination. But when was he going to be able to rest? It was first the Upside Down and the Demogorgon. Then it was The Shadow. And now it was this virus thing that Harry had discovered. And what was so important about seven months? That was June, the same month as the Third Task. Then Joyce remembered. The confrontation with Voldemort. Was Voldemort behind this virus? How? Voldemort wasn't here. Joyce was very confused, and the first question was this. "Where the hell is the Hospital Wing?"


November 27th, 1984 | Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

Harry Potter was beyond exhausted when he finally opened his eyes. It didn't need a clock or a date. His internal clock was right on track, and he had been unconscious for over a week. He was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, that much was for sure. His eyes opened slowly, and he couldn't help but smile. Eleven was in a seat at his side, asleep in her chair. Hopper was in another chair at the foot of the bed, asleep as well. It was the middle of the night. Harry clenched his fists, frowning as he peered down at his right hand. There was a wand there. But not his wand. It was Professor Dumbledore's wand. The wand that had been lost in the Forbidden Forest after the duel with Barty Crouch Jr.

The wand was placed carefully on the bedside table to his right, leaving Harry free to sit up. Everything felt a little fuzzy, but other than that Harry felt fine. So he got to his feet, careful not to wake either Hopper or El, and he left the Hospital Wing. He didn't explore the castle much nowadays, preferring to stay in his quarters or within the library. But he was interested in exploring the grounds again for the first time in four years. So he did just that. Over the span of three hours, Harry did nothing but walk, enjoying the views and the memories of his past. He came across the ruined debris of the damaged Viaduct, the destroyed covered bridge, and the fallen Astronomy Tower. The smallest of the debris had been vanished and cleaned up, but the larger bits were to be cleaned by teams sent by the Ministry. Once that was done, reconstruction would begin. It was standard procedure for magical building collapses.

But Harry didn't need the Ministry of Magic to come to the rescue. Not after their ineptitude had caused the massacre in the first place. After a while, he would discover the names of all four casualties from the incident. Two of them had been in Ravenclaw, one was a student from Beauxbaton, and the fourth had been a Ministry official caught in the burning of the arena. A foolish choice to make it out of wood. When Harry first passed by the fallen covered bridge, he was met with a surprise. A growth in his pants. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wand. It was hard to see in the night, but it was obvious from the shape in his hand. It was Dumbledore's wand. Again. But he had left it behind in the Hospital Wing. How was that possible?

He didn't much care. Instead, Harry focused on the bridge. He extended the wand, focusing his magic through it as he lowered it down into the valley. At once, the debris below sprung into the air. Banished and destroyed parts of the ruin were re-created from thin air, and Harry watched as the bridge slowly rebuilt itself. After several minutes, the bridge was there and intact. The stone supports were stable, and the roof was clear. It was as if it had never collapsed in the first place. He tried again with the Viaduct. And again, Harry found himself successful in repairing the damaged bridge. And with the Astronomy Tower, the ruins were repaired within almost five minutes. All the damage had been repaired. There was no need for the Ministry to interfere here now.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry now found himself on the repaired covered bridge. His feet were dangling over the side as he sat on a window. The sight of the valley leading to the lake was beautiful. He missed seeing this every day. Even if his life was in danger every year, Harry could not deny that Hogwarts had been his favorite home. Its beauty and the people within it made it special. But Harry had a new home now. A new life filled with adventure and exploration. He didn't need his old life to be happy. But if he did succeed in removing the Statute of Secrecy, perhaps Harry could utilize his past to help his future. It was all a matter of perspective. And Harry perceived a bright future for humanity as a whole. The voice was that of Albus Dumbledore. "I see you have woken up in full health. Though I must admit that I am surprised by your sudden magical strength,"

"I believe that it's your wand, sir. It appeared in my hand and in my pocket earlier. I used it to repair the damage I did," Harry explained.

"Most interesting," Dumbledore spoke. He examined the wand being offered to him by Harry, before smiling. Harry frowned. "I do not believe that that wand answers to me now, Harry. After all, its master changed twice that evening,"

"Changed?"

"Of course. The wand switch allegiance twice that evening. Once from me, and once from the youngest Crouch. Because you defeated the wand's former master, it is now yours. It will no longer work for me as it once did," Dumbledore explained.

"If he won it by disarming you, why don't you just disarm me? I don't want it," Harry offered.

"Impossible. Wands are very mysterious forces in the laws of magic, Harry. Your intention to let me have the wand would make my stealing it useless. It is intent, you see. If you intended for me to not have the wand, and I took it, then perhaps it would once again be mine. But seeing as you have no such desire to keep it, I believe it is now yours," said Dumbledore. He slowly crawled into the window beside Harry, swinging his legs over the side as he too examined the lake. "I must warn you, Harry. That wand is very dangerous. Many will wish to take it from you, for it has unimaginable power within it. You saw that power tonight, with the ease it took you to rebuild the damage to this castle,"

"I've fought worse people than Voldemort in my life, sir," Harry replied.

Dumbledore smiled. "I assumed as much, Harry. Tell me your story," Harry didn't hesitate. He told Dumbledore everything. From being placed with the Dursleys to being told he would once again be forced to participate in the Tournament. In the meanwhile, Harry fiddled with his new wand. He still didn't necessarily want it, but the power within it was enticing. At the end of his story, Dumbledore seemed to be taking in everything piece by piece. They went through almost fifteen minutes of complete silence before the man spoke. "You wish to change the world," It was a statement.

"Yes,"

"And you wish to do so by eradicating the Statute of Secrecy,"

"Yep,"

"You are aware I am the Supreme Mugwump?"

"I am,"

"I will assist you if you allow it. I believe you hold true potential, Harry. Potential beyond the scopes of Tom Riddle or Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained.

"I know. I aim to reach the moon soon," Harry spoke, motioning up towards the large spherical moon in the sky.

"Truly?"

"Yeah. I'm working with a no-maj laboratory in America. We've already begun the plans to reach the Sun. But everything's been on hold since the Tournament started and my hearing was announced. This is why I've been working in the library. I've been trying to strengthen the bonds between molecules so that absolutely nothing can breakthrough. A protective bubble around the planet, protecting us from anything and everything that might hurt us from space. After that, the only problems will be within the bubble," Harry explained.

"A very ambitious goal,"

"An almost complete goal. I've gotten the shield to almost 88% efficiency. If I can get it up to at least 99%, then I can begin the real production. Based on my current timeline, we'll begin to start construction in at least five months. The entire thing might be done two or three years after that. It's all a guessing game," He waved the wand in his hand, conjuring a small globe that he had constructed himself. The was extremely light, having a feather-light charm placed on it. If not for that, the globe would have weighed somewhere around twenty pounds. After all, it was quite large and made of metal. It displayed an accurate depiction of Earth, with the Planetary Defense Ring around it. It was actually two rings in the form of two crosses, one going from the north to the southern hemisphere, while the second traveled from the east to the western hemisphere. In between the metal rings was a layer of blue, which was made in plastic. "This is the model,"

"This would go around the planet?" Dumbledore asked, accepting the globe as he examined the miniaturized planetary device. Harry nodded. "How are you going to build something so large?"

"We've been planning a few methods. I'm thinking of going with a shrinking charm. Split it down the middle here -" He motioned to the halfway point, cutting the rings in half. "- and take them both up to space. Once we're sure we have the distance right, we enlarge them and move them into their positions around the planet. Then we do repairs on the midsections, and start it,"

"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. What other projects are you -"

"Albus?" Harry and Dumbledore turned to examine the source of the voice. They were met by Professor McGonagall, who looked like she had just gotten out of bed. She was clearly agitated. "Mr. Potter. It is good to see that you are awake and well. But your sudden disappearance startled your muggle friends. They wish to see you," She examined the bridge around her, raising an eyebrow. "May I inquire as to just how this bridge was repaired?"

"Mr. Potter felt he owed the school a favor, and decided to repair the damage done during the First Task," Dumbledore explained.

"Right," McGonagall commented, clearly not interested. Harry smiled, getting to his feet as he left the two Professors on the bridge. He was still twirling the wand in his hand, amazed by the feeling of power that flowed through him. How it put him at ease with its mere presence. Harry felt like he could conquer a nation with this wand. But another part of his mind spoke against it. Told him to drop it and run. To leave it behind and never come back to its resting place. It made Harry angry, knowing he felt such conflicting thoughts about the powerful wand. What was this wand exactly? And why did it come filled with so much determination and need to conquer? Harry wasn't entirely sure, himself.

"Harry!" His eyes shot up towards the Entrance Hall doors, where he spotted Eleven and Hopper sitting on the steps. Eleven had already jumped to her feet and was darting towards him. Quickly dispelling the wand to his trunk, Harry caught the girl in a tight hug, grinning widely as he faced a smiling Hopper. The older man patted Harry on the back. "Scared us to death there, kid. We thought something bad had happened. That nurse up there said you wouldn't wake up for another week or so,"

"I'm notorious for my quick recoveries," Harry spoke with a smile.

"That you are, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore and McGonagall had joined them. "And while I am sure you three would like to catch up on everything you missed, I am afraid I must steal Mr. Potter for a short while. We must have a discussion that is long overdue," Harry didn't have any complaints. He needed to talk to Hopper and Eleven, but Dumbledore clearly had something important to say. So after a brief goodbye, Harry allowed himself to be led into the castle, past the Great Hall, and up the Grand Staircase to the seventh floor. There, they passed through the gargoyle statue and into Dumbledore's office. And then the discussion began.