A horcrux hunt that was no horcrux hunt. The whole idea of that drove me bonkers. And back to the main action… Harmony at Hogwarts with the Penultimate Part (8)

~ ~ this is a scene break ~ ~

Harry walked back to the common room, wondering at the progress in killing Voldemort they'd achieved that night. He smiled as he spoke the password; he couldn't wait to tell Hermione what had happened!

Walking into the common room he saw that just about everybody above third year was catching up. The cacophony dulled slightly when he came through, but rapidly resumed as friends chatted.

Ron waved him over to where he was sitting with Ginny and Dean on a couch. Hermione was in a chair near them, an open book on her lap. He looked at her quizzically and she mouthed "tomorrow". Yeah, they'd not be able to catch up tonight.

"Hey Harry. Everything good?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, fine," he said, sitting on the arm of Hermione's chair.

"What'd Dumbledore want then?" Dean asked, as he played with strands of Ginny's hair.

"Well, he wanted to know why I'm so healthy, and why I changed my schedule, and where I went this summer, and all sorts of things that he might have had a right to know when I was his ward… it was a long discussion."

"Well, he just wants what's best for you," Ginny encouraged, putting her hand on Harry's thigh.

"Hmm," Harry said, quirking his eyebrow, looking at the hand, then back up at Ginny. She blushed and pulled her hand back, leaning back into Dean.

"Anyway, he let me know that Umbridge's ban on me for quidditch still stands and he's not going to do anything about it."

"That bitch!" Ron was stupefied that Umbridge was still messing with Gryffindor quidditch. He conveniently ignored that Dumbledore was messing just as much. Ginny though was picking up on some of the undercurrent of Harry's feelings toward Dumbledore. She had a Molly Look Of Disapproval brewing, but Harry couldn't care less.

"Language!" Hermione corrected, not bothering to look up from her book.

"Whatever, Hermione," Ron spat. "I can't believe that the quidditch is still being ruined by that toad."

"Yes, well, what's done is done," Harry muttered.

"So, Hermione," Ginny decided a change of topic was necessary, "what did you think of the chocolates we sent you? Godsend, yeah?"

"Well, when I first got home, I was so ill that I didn't eat any. Then my mum found them and binned them."

Ginny shared a look with Ron. "You never got any of them?"

"Nope. But that's ok. I had plenty of coffee even if I couldn't have sweets. Thanks for the thought, anyway."

"Did you get any intel on why Madame Pomphrey and Professor Binns are gone?" Neville asked from another chair. It seemed many wanted to know what happened between Harry and their Headmaster.

Harry shook his head, "No. I'm just really glad I decided to pass on defense this year. That git will be allowed to throw curses at Gryffindors left and right."

"Got to be Snape's wet dream, that. Hope we don't 'ave to clean up after 'im!" Seamus tried to find some humor in the situation.

"Really, Seamus? I didn't need that image!" Harry whined. Most of the students looked rather ill and Hermione closed the book in front of her.

"I've no idea about why Professor Binns passed on – perhaps he reached his expiry date?" Hermione mused, "but Madame Pomphrey was found guilty of breaking an oath. She didn't heal as she was sworn to do. She's without magic now."

Harry looked guilty. He looked down at Hermione and whispered, "me?"

Hermione smiled slightly, but there was no happiness in her eyes. "No, Harry. Well, maybe. There was the whole basilisk thing, and the curse I took in the spring. The healers we went to were furious those hadn't been properly addressed. I suppose your health issues were part of it, also. Whatever it was, it isn't our faults. We're victims. You, me, Colin, Justin, Penny… quite a few of us, actually. Professor McGonagall wanted to ask me about my healing as, being head of house, she's magical guardian for all of us muggleborn in Gryffindor."

"Yeah," Colin piped up from another corner. "She contacted me mum and dad this holiday. I had to go see a specialist about organ something or other from the basilisk."

Hermione nodded matter-of-factly.

"Well," Harry smiled, "I've had enough excitement for the day. Classes start directly tomorrow and I've got a full load."

Hermione hummed in agreement as he helped her up from her chair. Dean kissed Ginny goodnight and the teens split to their separate dorms.

~~ yes. It's a scene break. ~~

The next morning, after a brisk run around the lake, Harry quickly showered packed his bag for the first day. He smiled as he put the books and notebooks in the bag his mother had picked for him. Between her recorded messages and journals, and all the planning she'd done for him, he'd really come to appreciate his mum over the last few months.

Dean was just hitting the showers and threw one of that boy's shoes at Seamus's bed as passed it. Ron had still been sleeping when Harry'd finished getting ready, but as no one else volunteered to wake him, Harry let him sleep. He and Neville met Hermione in the common room and the trio made their way to breakfast.

"Why were you up so early then?" Neville asked.

"Hmm, part of the health regimen – and I can never thank you enough for the information on clinics…"

"We," Hermione corrected, smiling at Neville, "we both really owe you for that."

Neville shook his head. "You don't owe me a thing. I'm just glad it all worked out. You both look great!"

"Yeah – well, the running. My healers say that to get back what I've missed, I need to keep on the nutrient and absorption potions and I need to exercise. Today, I ran around the lake. Since I can't do quidditch, it's going to be a challenge keeping fit."

"Yeah, I spar over holidays, but I'm not sure if anyone else here does – well, anyone I'd want to friendly spar with."

Harry's eyes lit with curiosity and interest. "Spar? Swordplay or what?"

Neville nodded. "Swords, staves… it's good, physical work. I'm strong from working with plants, but duelling, fencing… they give me stamina."

"If you don't mind taking on a beginner, I'd love to learn," Harry ventured.

"Really?" Neville asked, interested.

"Absolutely!"

The trio made their way into the great hall. Their head of house was there already, and she handed each of them their rosters.

Hermione was glad to see all of her choices fit without requiring a time turner. She compared her own timetable to Harry's and found that they had charms, transfiguration, runes, potions and enchanting together. She'd be in arithmancy, magical theory, spell crafting, and alchemy alone.

Harry, on the other hand, had kept care and herbology and had those as well as charms and the half-credit healing and warding electives with Neville.

"Hang on," Neville asked as Ron (who had neglected to shower in deference to getting more breakfast) joined them, "how are you taking runes?"

Harry sighed. "I tried to get out of divination a bunch of times. McGonagall (Professor McGonagall, Hermione automatically corrected) wouldn't let me. But I've studied on my own for the last few summers, and took the OWL this summer." Harry shrugged. Ron looked ill at the thought of taking more OWLS.

"It's a full load, but actually one less class than we took last year. Hermione's taking the full load," Harry smiled at her and she smirked back.

"You're mental, taking all those classes," Ron stated.

"He's mental for hanging out with you, Blood Traitor." Draco Malfoy interjected in his first interaction with Potter in the school year. Harry just then realized Draco had broken the tradition of the train confrontation.

And he realized that he actually agreed with Malfoy. Well, as the saying went, even a stopped clock was wrong once a day.

Harry just looked at Draco with a mixture of pity and disgust, shrugging off the other boy's immature attempt to rile him. Ron, however, was riled.

"This is Gryffindor, Death Eater. Go back to the snake pit. We don't like Death Eaters here."

The two continued to sneer and snap, and Harry ignored them. He felt like these petty struggles were all a part of a past he really wanted nothing to do with anymore. Was it because of his loss of Sirius? Was it because of the removal of all of the spells and potions? The strengthening of his occlumency?

He didn't know, but he felt nothing but relief that he honestly didn't care what Draco Bleeding Malfoy had to say. He picked up his coffee (so glad to be an upper year) and sipped, watching the blond stalk away.

"I'm telling you, mate, he's up to something," Ron muttered, looking around in pretense of covering what he was saying, but in reality, making sure he had something of an audience. "I saw him when we went to Diagon this summer," he muttered. "Still pissed you didn't come. But anyway, he was in Malkins getting new robes and she pricked his left arm… thought he'd take her head off. His forearm was a bit sore, if you catch my drift."

"Oh, no way would Riddle mark teenagers, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You're just prejudiced against Malfoy. Not that I can blame you, exactly."

Ron smirked and there was some charm in it. If you didn't know he was a complete weasel.

"I wouldn't put it past Voldy to mark kids, if he's desperate," Harry contradicted. "But that's Dumbledore's problem, right?"

"Mate, look at his hand. He's got enough problems. I say Malfoy is ours," Ron insisted.

Harry shook his head. "Nope, I'm staying out of it. Messing with Drakey is sure to get Snape on you. I'm out of his class; I don't want to have to deal with him at all."

"But Malfoy's definitely up to no good. We have to keep an eye on him at least," Ron insisted.

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Plenty of things to look at around here without having to resort to greasy git junior."

Ron chewed his eggs and glowered. The bloke had a chip on his shoulder and something to prove, apparently. Though it was the last place he wanted to look, Harry'd be keeping his own eye on Ron Weasley.

~~ this is a scene break ~~

Harry was waiting in the common room that Saturday afternoon for Hermione.

He'd spent the morning in a session where Neville severely beat Harry under the guise of fencing and sword play tutoring. Neville was really, really good. He'd also sprung up that summer and was no longer pudgy at all. After the beating, Harry proceeded to Diagon Alley where he met with Grimsneer and interviewed several solicitors (he really needed to sue the pants off a lot of people, and Graham Thompson, esq, had enough shark-like tendencies to fit the bill) and then with his healers.

As a result, he'd not seen Hermione all day. Though they had common classes, their schedules were not the same, and her duties as prefect and his trying to manage his estate limited their free time. He was looking forward to walking around the lake with her.

As he sat, writing notes in his daily planner, he heard the thundering down the stairs of the boys' dorms.

"Harry, what's the code to your trunk?" Ron asked/demanded.

"It's locked to my magic. Why?" Harry responded, keeping his temper and voice even. There were few people in the common room – most were taking advantage of the beautiful Saturday weather (which would be a rarity during term in Northern Scotland).

"I wanted to get the Firebolt. Ginny should practice with it before tryouts," Ron answered nonchalantly. He noticed Harry's narrowed eyes and sat on the edge of a chair, still demonstrating he'd no clue how unreasonable his request was.

"And you didn't think to ask because…" Harry was giving him room to dig his ditch deeper.

"Look, mate, I know it's a sore spot. But you're banned. It's not like you can use the Firebolt." Though his own broom was in his left hand, Ron gestured with his right, all reason.

Harry chuckled humorlessly.

"Not like she could use it either. Umbridge damaged it pretty seriously. It's with the manufacturer, getting serviced, but even when it's back in condition, it's going into my vault. It's the last gift I have from my godfather, Ron."

Ron's temper started to show in his complexion. Whether it was outrage at Umbridge damaging a Firebolt (and one he considered his own, Harry supposed) or because he was being denied Harry's things wasn't clear.

"Are you going to get a replacement broom?" Ron's query was more of a demand than a request.

Harry paused, formulated his answer. His smile was small and cold, and the people in the room wished they had some popcorn to watch this entertainment.

"If I did, if I do, it won't be for someone else's use. My things are mine, Ron."

"Mate, it's for Gryffindor! How are we going to win the cup if Ginny's on a school broom?"

"Mate," Harry's use of the term showed anything but understanding, "I could give shite about the cup. We won it third year with the only team I'll ever play on, likely. Now, I've got a dark lord breathing down my neck. Quiddich doesn't really matter, in the grand scheme."

When Harry put it like that, it ended any argument Ron might want to make. Ron was enough of a strategist to understand that. He nodded, acknowledging Harry's point, but his eyes showed his temper.

"But surely you want to fly. You love flying."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I do miss flying."

"So you should get a broom then Ginny can use it…"

Harry started laughing but there was no humor in it. Just then, Hermione descended her own stairs and Harry stood to meet her.

"Leave off, Ron. I'm not buying Ginny a broom. Mi, you ready to go?"

"Mmm," she nodded, buttoning her outdoor coat. She looked cute in her muggle autumn clothing, and Harry had ditched the wizard-gear when he'd come back from the alley. Were they not in a magical castle, no one would have known they were witch and wizard. Their former best friend glowered, not liking that Harry had refused to buy a broom, that Harry wouldn't let Ron just use his things any more, and mostly, that Harry and Hermione seemed to be closer than ever after their summer together.

"Where are you lot going then?" he asked, following them out of the portrait hole.

"It's a beautiful afternoon. You're going for a fly. I'd do that – except I can't right now – so I'm going for a walk. I talked Hermione into going since she's going to drive herself to distraction if I don't pull her away from her books once in a while.

She clucked her tongue, "I will do no such thing!"

"Third year!" was all he said and she and Ron both laughed.

"God remember what a nightmare she was?" Ron teased. "But when she told off Trewlaney. That was beauty."

Harry nodded.

"I do still feel bad for how we treated you over the Firebolt, Hermione. I'm sorry I was such a prat," Harry stated seriously.

"What? She almost got the Firebolt destroyed!"

"I suppose you still think that broom was worth more than Harry's life, then?" Hermione asked primly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "He'd a been fine. He was fine when Quirrelmort cursed his broom, when Dobby sent the bludgers, even when the dementors came. And it was from his godfather, so it wasn't a problem."

The other two didn't bother arguing with Ron. They parted ways at the gate of the castle as Ron headed for the pitch and they headed for the lake.

When they were out of earshot, Hermione asked in wonder, "Was he always so callous?"

Harry chuckled without humor. "On the train, Ginny said something about me looking healthy, and Ron said I finally looked like I ate a sandwich or something. As though the Dursleys' starving me was my choice."

"Loyalty charms are evil and should be outlawed," Hermione stated grimly.

"Enough about him," Harry smiled and reached for her hand now they were out of sight line of most students. "Tell me about spell crafting and magical theory. Are they everything you'd hoped for?"

"Hoped and feared. I've a ton of work. And the common room seems to be even louder this year, especially as we have so many first years."

They walked the grounds, conscious of the eyes following them. Harry just wanted to spend time with his girl.

It was time to channel his inner Slytherin.

~~ This is a scene break ~~

Harry had noticed just a few days into term that Hermione was becoming stressed quickly. The change to Neville as prefect helped somewhat, but she still was buckling under the strain of new classes and trying to keep up the pretense of being able to tolerate the Weasleys. The common room was just not a great place for her to relax or to study.

They also didn't get much alone time, since they were still trying to keep their relationship a bit of a private thing. They didn't need the people who had attacked them before to ramp up the attacks simply because Harry and Hermione were an item.

He had Dobby find a room – in the tower, but abandoned. This became quite the project for Dobby, Winky, and Kreacher. Kreacher had become quite a bit more stable now that he spent time with other elves, and Dobby was helping him clean Grimmauld. Harry, being Earl Gryffindor, was allowed to have his own elves in the castle (students usually were forbidden this perk). The elves were a godsend in making a study for Hermione.

Harry helped all three elves clean the purloined room and had them bring a couch, rug, and few comfortable chairs as well as a library table and four study chairs to fill it. The walls that didn't have windows were lined in bookshelves. He had the elves scour the other abandoned classrooms and the come and go room for old textbooks and other reference material. He had the fireplace and floo cleaned and ready for use. And he had a new scratch tower and cat bed made just for Crookshanks.

He had the wards of the room set so that no one could enter unless he or Hermione were there, and then, none could enter with ill intent. He put an alert ward on the end of the hall leading to the room; it would warn if anyone were going to breech their sanctum. Perhaps it was selfish, but he was Earl Gryffindor, this was his castle, and he felt like he'd shed enough blood for it to claim some rights.

Hermione had adored the room and the treasure trove of books the elves had found. They were perfect – it was almost as good as the library – better in some ways as it was closer to the tower and completely private. She could check out the books she needed and study here, unassaulted.

Well, mostly unassaulted. Others could still find them in this room, but in the few weeks that they had been using it, only Neville and Luna had studied with them. Ron had looked at it and shrugged it off, seeing no chess board or other entertainment available.

The evening of the 19th, Harry guided Hermione to their private study. Hermione sat quickly at the table, pulling things out of her bottomless, feather-weight bookbag.

"I've ever so much work in magical theory already," Hermione muttered, organizing her texts and parchment and quills. "This year is going to be quite challenging. I don't know how I'm going to read physics at the same time."

"Well, before you get started, we're having a little bit of a party."

"Harry, you already provided me with a wonderful breakfast, the beautiful scarves from Greece, and a cappuccino. It's too much!"

"You're only seventeen once, and it's the biggest birthday in the magical world. Winky?"

"We didn't celebrate your birthday at all!" Hermione groused.

"We were on separate continents, love," Harry laughed, and Hermione stilled. He'd called her love.

His forays into endearment were small and infrequent, and so she treasured them all the more.

Winky popped in with a small tray of petit fours and mimosas – after all, her mistress was an adult today – and special treats for Crookshanks, so the half-kneazle wouldn't feel slighted. (No one would be allowed to forget it if Crooks felt slighted.) Dobby followed with a few presents. "Mistress Hermione open mirror. Doctors Granger wants to talks now."

"Thank you Winky, Dobby," Hermione smiled as she got her mirror out of her bag. She engaged the communication feature and her parents swirled into view.

"Happy Birthday!" They said together.

"Open the large one from us first!" Bianca was enthusiastic. It was the first birthday they'd spent (sort of) with Hermione since she'd started at Hogwarts. The paper came off to reveal the magical CD player.

"Ooh… This is just like Harry's! Oh, you'll have to send my discs!"

"Open the matching present…" as Hermione did, she found a CD holder – not magical like Harry's but it held 50 CD's, most of which were filled. "They're already in the holder, sweetheart. There's a few new ones in there, too."

Harry put in a cd– a mix – to play in the background while she chatted with her parents.

"Open the smaller box now," Jason encouraged. "Bianca picked that CD player out when she and Harry were in Seattle. I just picked this out for you."

She opened the smaller box carefully – Harry noted she was not one to tear the paper but she carefully preserved it. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sparkling glitter in the tiny box. "Daddy," she breathed.

"Diamond studs for my baby. Seventeen. Happy birthday, Hermione!"

They drank the mimosas that Winky provided, toasting through the mirror.

"Now for my present," Harry smiled.

"Harry, you didn't have to…"

"Come on, it's a present for me, too!" The Grangers laughed in the mirror, knowing what was in the box.

She opened the box that was magically expanded on the inside to find the personal espresso maker, grinder, and everything she needed for good cappuccino.

"Harry!" she hugged him as her parents laughed. Her caffeine addiction was becoming a thing of legend. Winky, with the snap of a finger, revealed the previously-disillusioned table under the window and placed the new caffeine station on it.

As if Hermione needed another reason to hide in their room.

After chatting a few more minutes (and eating the wonderful cakes), her parents signed off and Harry put his mimosa glass down.

A waltz started on the CD player.

Harry stood, bowed to Hermione and held out his hand to her in an offer old and understood. Winky popped in again, silently, smiled at her mistress and cleaned up the tray and present wrappings.

Hermione smiled and blushed and put her hand in his. "What are you doing, Harry James?"

"Correcting an old mistake."

He pulled her into the waltz and started guiding her through the steps.

"I knew you were a girl in fourth year, but I didn't really think of you as a girl-girl. Not until the ball. You walked in that room and I think every one of us had our eyes opened. You were my best friend, and you were a wow-girl!"

Hermione shook her head and laughed.

"But even through knowing that, and knowing that you were a girl I'd be honored to be with, I never even asked you to dance. You were my best friend, and I didn't want to mess that up. But more, I didn't think…I wasn't brave enough to show you."

She stayed quiet as their feet moved to the music and he gathered his thoughts.

"I've watched you, like a butterfly coming out of its chrysalis. The beauty was always there, but you didn't let it show. Now? You're just stunning. And I don't just mean in looks or abilities. You are such a warm light, such a balm, Hermione, you are absolutely the best thing that's ever happened in my life. I'd be lost without you. I'm sorry I don't say it more often. Every day you're by my side is a blessing. So long as I'm what you want, you've got me. Happy birthday."

They stopped dancing and he leaned down and touched his lips to hers. It was sweet and warm and everything a kiss of true love should be. He stood and smiled into her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered and smiled tremulously. The pinging of the wards – someone was coming down their hall - ended the private moment. They went to the library table – with their homework open on it – as Winky and Dobby popped away the last of the evidence of the private party.

Ron opened the door without knocking. He looked around the room suspiciously, but, as was usual now, his friends seemed to just be studying.

"What are you lot doing, then?"

"I'm working on theory homework while Harry," Hermione looked over at Harry's parchment and books, narrowing her eyes as she deduced what he was working on, "seems to be working on healing. That anatomy book looks more detailed than the one I used for muggle anatomy and physiology."

"Hmm," Harry agreed as he finished the sentence he was writing. "This is from a set of pre-med books I picked up," he paused and laughed at her expression, "yes, you can look at them. But you don't have time now. Next holiday?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly.

"I need help with charms," Ron stated. "Don't know why you guys can't study in the common room like normal people."

"Because people would interrupt us and ask us for help with charms," Hermione answered snarkily.

Harry smothered a laugh.

"What do you need help with, Ron?" He asked, trying to keep the peace, though he was beginning to wonder why he did.

"Hermione can help better than you. You're no better than me." Ron stated, obstinately.

"Hermione's busy," Hermione answered, looking up. "Really, Ronald. I'm taking twice the course load you are and I'm a prefect still. I don't have time to help you write your essays."

"You had time last year. I don't see what's so different."

"It doesn't matter if you don't see, don't understand, don't want to understand. I am not doing your work for you. If you want to ask about a concept, I'll answer. But that's it." She stated firmly. "Well?"

Ron stood there, mouth agape. He had two essays due the following day and two essays past due He'd been hoping that Hermione would let him copy charms and transfigurations. He knew he was on his own in defense as Neville never let a mate copy and Dean and Seamus were as behind as he was.

Maybe he'd have to take Harry up on his offer. Turning to the other boy, Ron began again. "I need help with the essay on vascular and non-vascular plants for herbology and the personal class charms essay."

Harry furrowed his brow, "They were both due last Friday. But I can answer questions if you have them."

"I just wanted to look and see what you wrote, to give me an idea of where to start," Ron prevaricated.

"I turned them in and haven't got them back yet," Harry answered, glad to have an excuse.

"You turned them in on time?" Ron acted surprised, though, in the past, Hermione had always made sure both boys turned their work in on time. Since Harry wasn't loyal to him anymore (and what kind of twat needed to be spelled to be loyal, Ron wanted to know), he wasn't making Hermione do Ron's work anymore.

It just wasn't fair.

"Yeah, Ron. I always turn my work in on time. Are professors Sprout and Flitwick accepting your late work?"

Ron shrugged. "I reckon. What about the human transfiguration essay due tomorrow? You have that?"

"I do; what were your questions?" Harry asked, trying to keep the peace.

"If I could just read it…" Ron ventured.

"I'm not giving you my work to copy, mate." His voice was firm and his jaw was set. He was also big enough that Ron couldn't intimidate him that way anymore, either.

Why did Harry have to ruin everything?

"I wasn't gonna copy. Just get ideas."

"Well, no. Now, if you'll piss off, I have a ton of work to do."

"Language," Hermione muttered without raising her eyes.

Ron's ears turned red, but with both of the others' reading and not paying him any mind, he didn't have much of a choice. He sat down in the room with them and started to do his own work. When Hermione excused herself to get Neville for rounds, he followed, wanting any excuse to stop studying.

Harry smirked from his seat at the table. He never knew that denying Ron would be so much fun!

~~ this is a scene break ~~

The hall was full for the Halloween feast. Halloween. That dread day when Lily had died and the Potter brat had prevailed. Every year, something almost took him down.

Every year, Potter prevailed.

At the beginning of the year, Snape cursed the fates (and the tolerant headmaster) that allowed Potter to self-study Defense. For the first time, Severus would be free to throw curses at the imbecile with no worry of penalty. It was, after all, a defense course! And to have the opportunity ripped from his triumphant grasp…

It was bitter gall to swallow.

And the insolent nuisance of a brat seemed to have found his feet academically. This year, despite all of Snape's planning and years of work, the brat was getting rave reviews from the other idiot teachers.

From the look of him, he'd gone through major healing over the summer. This would have removed some of the… righteous payback that Severus had delivered. He knew from experience that the child had learned to occlude properly, despite their previous… lessons. Well, the thing about potions was that they could always be reintroduced.

The brat didn't deserve Lily's brains. He didn't deserve the luck that seemed to keep him alive against all odds. The Dark Lord, incapacitated as he currently was, had ordered Severus to reign the young Potter wizard in, at any cost. Dumbledore demanded that Snape would act in the brat's best interest.

Well, that meant Severus had to be subtle as Slytherin himself in his revenge on Potter. He couldn't allow the pest to be killed directly, but demolish his mind magics? Oh, that had been magnificent. The misery on the brat's face was priceless treasure. At this point, though, the occlumency training was a closed option. Snape had but one action left to him.

Tonight, he started that action.

As he covertly watched, Severus watched a slight frown form on the pest's face. Surely, he was too incompetent to notice…

"Tilly," Harry called the Hogwarts elf he had heard Dumbledore command the night of the opening feast. The elderly elf - who was the head Hogwarts elf and had helped him with the setup of his and Hermione's study lounge - popped in with a look of expectation.

"Students may not call Hogwarts elves, Mister Potter," Minerva McGonagall reprimanded before Severus could, avoiding further Gryffindor point losses.

"I'm not just a student, Professor. I'm Earl Gryffindor." He showed his ring as the students gasped around him. Silence reigned in the great hall.

Tilly bowed. "Tilly here, Master Earl. What does Master Earl need from Tilly?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but my plate has been contaminated with potions." His bracelet alerted him to it, and a subtle charm had confirmed it. "Can you find out who served this to me?"

Tilly snapped. No one moved in the hall. They couldn't if they wanted to as the house elf had frozen them while the Earl Gryffindor waited for his answers. Waving a gnarled hand over the plate, Tilly shook her head.

"Rill, come," she commanded. Another, smaller elf popped in.

"Yes, Miss Tilly?" the new elf quavered.

"Did Rill put bad plate in front of Master Potter?" Tilly asked.

"Yes, Miss Tilly," a nod of an elvish head accompanied this confirmation.

"Did wizard or witch order Rill to put bad potions on plate there?" Tilly demanded an explanation.

"Master Snape tell Rill medicines for Master Potter on plate."

"You see, Mr. Potter," Albus Dumbledore magnanimously interrupted (which was quite disconcerting as he was speaking without moving). He was trying to regain some control of the situation, "it's just medicines that Professor Snape has given to you."

"I have my own healer; I've no need for quackery from a potions master. These supposed 'medicines', however, are a confundus draught and a befuddlement potion."

"I'm sure that Professor Snape has his reasons," Dumbledore demurred, wanting this situation and its public unveiling done.

"I agree, he certainly has his reasons," Harry said with equanimity, then pulled his wand. He had waited, prepared for this moment. He had known it would, eventually, come. Surprisingly, it was the Potter grimoire that had given him the oath to use at the right time, under the right circumstances. Snape couldn't help but be try to destroy house Potter. "I, Lord Harry James Potter, Earl Gryffindor do declare blood feud on Severus Tobias Snape. Through word and deed, Potion Master Snape has declared himself enemy to me and mine. I hereby claim any debts owed my house by Potion Master Snape in order to sever all ties betwixt us. May magic bless my purpose and judge the righteousness of my plea. As I will, so mote it be." After he clearly enunciated the last sentence, an almost physical silence descended upon the room.

The hall light seemed to dim as a glow surrounded the livid potions master. Suddenly that glow began to burn and the sparks flew to the walls of the room, adding the purified magic drawn from Snape to the defenses of the castle. Overcome by the pain of his magic being torn from his very being, Snape bellowed in agony and fury.

When it was done, Snape slumped in his chair, and movement could again be accomplished. Healer Panakos rushed to Snape and began swirling his wand in diagnosis. The students and faculty looked on in silent horror.

"Mr. Potter, how could you? You - of all people - know how important he was to our cause!" Dumbledore's usual reticence and control were gone. They were so close! They only needed Severus to kill the snake and then Harry's death could render Voldemort mortal!

Harry's voice was quiet in his outrage. Any mutterings or movements ceased so that all could hear what the boy who lived had to say. "That… man set the Dark Twat on my parents in the first place."

"He tried to save your mother," Dumbledore rebutted, wondering how Harry knew that Snape had told the prophecy to Voldemort. "He came to me as soon as he understood Lily was at risk…"

Harry interrupted with disdain dripping from his voice, "He loved my mum so much that he stood by while his master cast his favorite unforgivable at her. He was right there in the room. I was there, and thanks to the dementors and occlumency, I remember." His voice was weary before he was done.

Shock showed on the face of Dumbledore and many of the students as they processed what Harry had said; as they thought of the times that Snape had tormented Harry in the potion's classroom, all the time knowing that he, Snape, had practically murdered Harry's parents, himself.

Any pity they had for the still insentient man evaporated like one of his potions' fumes.

"But beyond that," Harry continued in a sarcastic tone, "he's been sabotaging me since the day I came to Hogwarts. My healers want his guts for garters, you know," he added almost conversationally.

"You couldn't understand…" Dumbledore began to try to take some control of the situation. To try to deny what, deep down, he feared was absolute truth.

"No, I couldn't. Professional healers, however, did understand, and fixed what that death eater did to me. Do you want to see the list of potions? Curses? Why do you think I was able to re-take my OWLS?" This last was so that teachers and students alike would know that Harry hadn't received special treatment – as the rumors had held. No. One of the paid faculty of Hogwarts had purposefully hamstrung the Boy Who Lived.

Hermione decided to join the fray, standing, putting her hand on Harry's arm in a small show of support. "Headmaster, this man you cry for, he's been trying to dismantle your weapon against Riddle since the first opportunity opened to him. He lives, unlike Harry's parents, Harry's godfather, Cedric Diggory. He lives, though it seems Mother Magic has taken away most of his gift. I suspect he can even brew, as there's no silly wand waving required. Without magic to support it, he probably even lost his dark mark! Shouldn't you be happy for him? He's got a better fate than the one you've planned for Harry." Her eyes were hard and any respect she'd had for the old man had long been wiped away.

When that bombshell exploded, and Hermione could see that some of the more intelligent of the Hogwarts crowd were starting to put together two and two to actually find four (which was a great new development in her mind), she allowed Harry to pull her from the great hall. Two sets of eyes followed them, though, instead of partaking in the gossip.

~ ~ this is a scene break ~ ~

The Gryffindor common room was loud and full of tension. Their own Harry Potter had slain the proverbial beast. Snape had been the bane of many students' careers at Hogwarts, and he'd been defanged by his very own actions. Some were a bit scared of Potter now, as they remembered their own actions against the boy-hero. Surely, he wouldn't hold a grudge? They studied him, in the corner with Neville, Hermione, Ron, and a few others of his closest friends.

Their mutterings were interrupted by the opening of the portrait. Their head of house stepped in, her visage stern with disapproval.

"Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office." Professor McGonagall's tone was ominous and showed clear disappointment as she made her demand in the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione stood, deciding she was going to join Harry in this meeting. As the professor made no protest, the trio made their way from Gryffindor tower to the head's office. They found the elderly man seated at his desk, glasses in front of him, rubbing his temple with his good hand. Fawkes mourned behind him. When they stood, silent before him, he donned his spectacles and grimly surveyed his wayward charge.

"I've come from the hospital wing. Severus has almost no magic left; he is little better than a squib. His dark mark is gone; we can hope that Tom believes Severus has died."

"Malfoy and his ilk will inform Riddle otherwise, I'm sure," Harry responded quietly but with the resentment clearly heard.

Dumbledore stood, observing Harry from his greater height. "Your attitude has cost us a great deal, Mr. Potter. I cannot let this attack on a member of faculty go unaddressed."

"Attack? That was no attack, sir. It was a defense. He's been poisoning me since I was eleven." Harry pulled out a copy of his healer's initial diagnostic and pointed out the potion exposure his system demonstrated. "I have to wonder how many of my 'adventures' I'd have been on had I my wits. Would I have reacted faster in the graveyard? Would Sirius and Cedric be alive? Would Riddle? I have to ask myself. He's made me weak and intellectually slow all these years…"

Dumbledore looked grim. "You cannot blame all on Severus, my boy. I have your records from your primary school."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "In primary, sir, if I did better than my cousin – who happens to be learning disabled – I'd get beaten and they'd withhold what little food they gave me."

McGonagall's harshly indrawn breath and mutter of "the worst of muggles," was the only reaction from the adults.

Dumbledore swallowed. "I understand your grievances, but to go this far… can you not see that this could have been handled better?"

"How? He actively harmed me from my first day here. I took precautions to ensure I wasn't harmed again. The leeway you've always given him painted me into a corner. I had to defend myself! It's the same with this summer. I know you're angry that I gave up the protections you built for me, but look at how starved and stunted I was. Really look at this healers' report!" Harry shook it again and thrust it at the headmaster.

Albus sighed and perused the parchment Harry had given him. His eyes skimmed rapidly and then they widened, obviously not believing what he read. "This cannot be. I had Arabella watching. She told me you were just a fractious eater…"

"Ms Figg? She fed me moldy food, sir. Moldy. I still ate it. If that's fractious, I'd like to know the description she'd use for Ron."

"Figg?" Hermione interrupted for the first time. "Wasn't she the one who testified for you last year, Harry?" At his confirmation she turned to the faculty. "She's s squib, yes?" At their nods, she continued, "Is she as resentful of magical children as Mr. Filch is?"

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Filch is on staff here. He's all bluster, but of course he cares about children, magical or not," Minerva protested.

Hermione pinned her mentor with a look. McGonagall remembered the home truths this young lady had delivered just a few months prior and bit her tongue.

"Respectfully, Ma'am. He hates us all. When Madame Umbridge was in control? At the end of last year? She gave him permission to employ corporal punishment. She signed off on use of the cat o'nine tails and thumb screws. He was positively giddy as he went to get them."

"Thought he was gonna bang one out," Harry added and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Disgusting – and language, Harry James – but apt. He has no real use in this castle and he hates children. I have to wonder why you employ him here?"

"Argus has my complete trust, Ms. Granger. You should endeavor to have empathy for him," Albus answered and Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Hubris," she stated with some bitterness. The others looked at her. "You're so used to being the smartest and most powerful one in the room that you never seek another opinion to confirm your course, and discount the opinions of others when they're offered."

"That is simply not true, Ms. Granger." Professor McGonagall was, as always, adamant in her support of her employer.

"The worst muggles," Harry quoted. "They're the worst muggles, isn't that what you said about the Dursleys, ma'am? Didn't you tell the Headmaster that when he dumped me there?" He pointedly asked the deputy head who lowered her head in shame.

"You cannot tell me," Hermione continued after that beat of silence, "that no other member of faculty, no parent has ever lodged protest over Mr. Snape's treatment of children. He sabotaged our potion making skills, he denigrated everyone not in his own house. He was a reprehensible teacher and human. People had to have complained, and you always answered with 'he has my trust'. Look at that paper, sir. How many of those potions did you give Harry? Look at the history of curses and hexes on Harry. How many of those did you place?"

Dumbledore looked at the paper again. He had placed none of the monitoring or tracking charms – his own blood-bound instruments suffice. He'd not needed to place behavior charms; he'd thought the Dursleys had made Harry as he was. But, no. Someone else had made young Mr. Potter submissive and loyal – he suspected the Weasleys in this, though he'd never say so aloud. But befuddlement and confundus draught exposure… the children were correct. Mr. Potter had been hampered by these and Severus admitted (albeit unwillingly through his squibbing) that he had been the potioner. Albus himself had never checked to see if there were a block in place when he placed his own. He'd no idea they had been holding each other in place.

Mr. Potter must indeed have colossal amounts of magic to have been laboring under two blocks all these years!

His study of the damning document was brought to a halt as Ms. Granger spoke again.

"Think about this, sir. You're supposed to be a muggleborn champion. Yet, why were all of the muggleborn left, petrified, our second year? Why did Madame Pomphrey deny any other treatment for that and for the blood quills last year? Who had her under oath to not heal Harry properly? Was it you?"

"It was not, Ms. Granger. I would never deny a child treatment purposefully," the headmaster stated forcefully.

"Yet you knew that a child-killing beast was scurrying about the corridors, and you chose not to close the school, nor to get any outside help," Harry stated quietly, the resentment coming through his tone. "You knew someone had sabotaged the goblet, but you kept it quiet. You never help me. You're a terrible headmaster, and I'm beginning to think you might just be a terrible person. I'm done justifying myself to you."

Harry shook his head and left the room but Hermione lingered. Dumbledore and McGonagall watched his exit feeling both insulted and saddened.

"He'll forgive you, you know," Hermione stated, addressing the headmaster directly. He turned back to look at her. "That's who he is. He'll justify your behavior – maybe Mr. Snape had you on behavioral potions? But I don't so. I think you knew what you were doing. You kept Harry isolated. I think you knew the Weasleys were trying to keep others away from him, and you allowed it. Three of the five years we've been here, Harry's been reviled by the student population. I think you knew how to correct that, but you didn't care.

"I think," she continued, noticing how Dumbledore's eyes had chilled and displayed suspicion and calculation, "you wanted his childhood to be miserable: whether it was to make him equal to Riddle - as though fate needs your help - or to make him want to sacrifice himself on the altar of your ideals. I don't know why you did it. I don't care. An accounting for your dark behavior is coming, Headmaster Dumbledore." She looked pointedly at his dead arm and back to his indifferent eyes. "I truly hope your next adventure is exactly what you deserve."

When she had left the room, Dumbledore shakily sat in his chair and looked out his window at the night sky.

"Where have I gone wrong?" He asked, not expecting an answer.

"Oh, I think you'll find Ms. Granger's assessment spot on. You don't listen. If I had been more like her, checking your moves instead of wholesale approving of them…"

"You've always questioned my moves, Minerva," Dumbledore stated with a bit of humor in his voice.

"Privately," McGonagall conceded, "but I've never actually influenced your decisions, while you've often overturned mine. I forced Miss Granger to work with Mr. Weasley – made him a representative of my house – because you demanded it. You should have had no impact on that decision. But I, much to my shame, have always allowed it I've allowed you to do my thinking for me."

There was silence then, both accepting the truth for what it was.

"Before you do go on your… next adventure, I shall have to learn to think for myself again," McGonagall declared and turned to leave her mentor to his thoughts.

When she was gone, Fawkes glided over to the old, dying man. It was only then that Albus let the tear slide down his cheek. "Fawkes, I have truly worked for the best. I've done my best. I suppose it is easy for them to judge me; perhaps even I would, were positions reversed. But they do not know all I know. They cannot. So I must, sadly, keep the course."

So many mistakes, he thought, looking again down at the medical document. He'd made so many mistakes, especially with the young Potter and, it seemed, with Severus. But he would keep the course. None of the details mattered, in the end. Just Tom's defeat.