Well, here we meet again, for another exciting installment of ANP! Please review, it may be due to the total word thresholds not being met, but this book has had a severely low review to chapter ratio, and as it is one of my more favorites this saddens me. So, without much more rambling, the show (story?) must go on!

Chapter Six

Dumbledore's Army Reborn

Faykan didn't return until late that evening, sweat faced and reeking of battle and blood. Harry had waited up, but he couldn't stop thinking about how unfair it had been for his best friend to leave him and the others behind. Had they not proven themselves to be more than able to fight?

Faykan smiled as he saw him in the cushy armchair facing the entryway, but it slowly vanished as he realized Harry's agitated state. "Harry?" he asked calmly, but Harry wasn't in the mood to talk. Now that he knew that Faykan was back safe, he rose, turned abruptly and marched off to bed without a second glance.

Lying in bed he heard Faykan come in after cleaning himself, get undressed and sink onto his own bed, the wooden frame creaking as he eased himself gingerly into the mattress. From behind the closed curtains he heard as Fay started to sing, but for once he didn't want the relaxing magic that the sound brought, not that he had much of a choice. Quickly he dropped off to sleep, wondering if it was right to hold this against his best friend.

The next day brought a renewed sense of betrayal, when in the common room Ron and Hermione cornered Faykan and demanded to know what happened with him and Dumbledore. "Nothing noteworthy, just a small skirmish, easily routed," he said dismissively, shaking his head.

"Oh really," Hermione countered hotly, "then what is this?" she jabbed Fay in the shoulder, hard, and the boy winced and recoiled abruptly.

"See!" she said with a small note of triumph, "you're hurt; we need to take you to the hospital wing."

"No," Faykan said hotly, shoving her hand away as Hermione tried to grab his arm, "I'm fine, it's been taken care of…"

"Why are you hiding things from us again," Harry said from the stairs to the boy's dormitory, attracting the attention of all three of them. Faykan turned, mouth open to reply, but stopped when he recognized what Harry had said. Turning away, Faykan pushed through the others and departed the common room. Harry frowned in irritation, hadn't Fay said he wasn't going to hold any more secrets from them.

Herbology was their first class, and while the four Gryffindors worked together, the tension was clearly noted by everyone around them. The surrounding Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs edged away from them as much as from the Snargaluff stump that they were supposed to be harvesting pods from.

While Ron and Hermione were trying to not get involved with the row that Harry and Faykan were still in the middle of, Ron was trying to change the subject by venting his irritation on Professor Slughorn's club parties while Hermione tried to defuse tension altogether. Faykan worked off to the side, alone, focused solely on the stump in front of him, and Harry seethed as each minute of class dragged on for an eternity.

The second the bell rang, Harry couldn't have gotten away faster. So rapid was his sprint back up to the tower that he almost bowled over Demelza Robins in the middle of a corridor, only managing to catch himself just enough to instead smash into the nearby wall.

"Oh, Demelza," Harry wheezed, holding his side where a particularly jagged stone had knocked into him, "sorry… didn't see you there."

"Not a problem Harry," she replied, starting to continue on her way. Just then Harry remembered that he needed another chaser for the Gryffindor team, "Hey, Demelza," he called.

She whipped around again rather swiftly, "Yes Harry?" she asked.

"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?" he said quickly, seeing the line of Gryffindor sixth years approaching from where he'd come.

"Oh yes, I really am," she replied, smiling.

"Well then, you're in. Practice tonight, seven o'clock."

She beamed, and Harry excused himself, rushing to get back to the dorm so he could clean himself up and get dressed in fresh clothes.

There were a handful of Gryffindors that were disappointed at Harry's choice of Chaser, namely Seamus and Dean, who must have felt that they were more likely to be chosen as they were from Harry's year, but he stuck with his decision as Demelza had out flown both of them during the tryouts, and he wasn't keen on having a second tryout to decide on one player.

Harry endued much muttering about his choices for the team, but that evening he knew he had made the right calls. Demelza worked seamlessly with Ginny and Faykan, who despite a lack of enthusiasm and the tension between them performed just as well as Harry had expected. The new Beaters, Peakes and Coote, were constantly improving their skills. The only problem really seemed to be Ron.

It all seemed to stem from a heavy dosage of nerves and lack of confidence, to which Ron was quick to agree about, but unwilling to see that he was indeed a great player when he head was in the game. The looming opening match seemed to be affecting him, as he let in half a dozen goals, and his technique grew sloppier over time instead of better. Eventually he lashed out in frustration, attempting to punch the Quaffle and instead hitting Faykan directly in the jaw. So forceful was the blow that it knocked Faykan clean off his broom.

Several people screamed as he plummeted downward, and Harry dove forward without thinking, urging his Firebolt to its top speed within seconds. Mere feet above the ground Harry caught Faykan by the arm, only managing to slow them both just enough that when their combined weight dragged Harry off his broom as well, they tumbled to the turf with only minor bruises.

"It was an accident! I'm sorry!" Ron was shouting as he and the rest of the team landed hard around them. Faykan was clutching his face, blood pouring between his fingers.

"It's fine, you panicked, just help me to the hospital wing," Faykan managed to speak around the blood.

Harry, Ginny and the others help clear the way and guide Faykan back to the castle and up to the Infirmary. Ron hung back the entire way, and once Faykan was situated on a bed with Madam Pomfrey hovering around him, Harry went back to the distraught redhead.

"I resign…" Ron said moodily as Harry approached, "I'm pathetic…" Instead of replying, Harry smacked Ron sharply upside the head, "Ow!" he cried lamely, grabbing his ear.

"Listen you prat," Harry said sternly, "It was an accident, everyone said so. You're only problem is that you need to get over yourself and your nerves and just play the bloody game."

"But… the cup…" Ron said weakly.

"Damn the cup!" Harry yelled, growing frustrated, "who cares about the sodding cup when there's a war going on?! Just play Ron, don't think about anyone or anything except the fun of the game and stopping those goals. Sure, I'd like to win as much as anyone, but it's not that important! So stop being mental!"

Ron's frustration spiked, "You're calling me mental!" he snapped back.

"I certainly hope he is, 'cause it's true!" Faykan's voice sang out of the hospital wing door, immediately followed by Madam Pomfrey's shushing.

Caught off guard, both Harry and Ron burst out laughing, but the red head sobered quickly. Wearily shaking his head, he said, "I know you haven't got time to find a replacement Keeper before the game tomorrow, so I'll play that game, but if we lose I'm taking myself off the team..."

Watching Ron stalk away, Harry shook his head. He had to get Ron's spirits up before the game tomorrow, but at the same time he had a Dueling Exhibition with Faykan and Dumbledore to organize for that evening.

Turning back to the hospital wing, he sighed as Faykan emerged, blood still on his Quidditch robes but fully healed. "That could have gone better," he commented casually as the two boys set off for a quick shower and change in Gryffindor Tower.

"I presume that altering the pitch for this evening won't be a difficult process…" Harry asked, knowing that Fay was less than likely to let him down in this activity.

"Not at all," the blue eyed Istari confirmed, waving a hand casually, "vanish the hoops, raise defensive wards, nothing too difficult. Just leave everything but the announcing to me…"

Only when they arrived back at the tower did Harry realize that this was one of the first moments since the Hogsmead trip that he and Faykan had been completely peaceful around the other. It was refreshing, and he wasn't planning on spoiling the return and strengthening of their friendship with more anger or arguing.

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Albus observed the happily chattering crowd of students in the pitch with his traditional grandfatherly smile. It was a wonderful sight to see that so many of the students had been more than interested in participating in the newly recommissioned 'Dumbledore's Army' by attending the special exhibition. He had heard rumors that some students had even forgone the cherished Hogsmead trip to make certain that they had the best seats possible.

Glancing across the pitch to the opposite end, Albus spotted Alatar, disguised in illusionary form as the mysterious German Light Lord, Zemar, standing next to Harry, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. Albus caught himself, recognizing that the young blond was not considered a Malfoy any longer by wizarding law, and had claimed, with help from Lord Alatar, ancient line of Telcontar.

The wonders that Alatar produced never ceased to amaze Albus. Even during the most recent excursion onto the field of battle, the Istari had created a violent gale of pure magic, which buffeted and led to a complete routing of a small contingent of Voldemort's followers. The battle had been won swiftly, but their conversation afterward had been the part that stuck more forcefully in both wizards' minds.

Albus had finally confided his fear and suspicion about young Harry's scar to Alatar, how he had been following closely the movements of the graduated Tom Riddle, and the frightening clue of the diary they had recovered in their second year. A Horcrux, the word tasted vile on Albus' tongue. It was an evil thing, something that shouldn't have been, yet was, and the aged Headmaster feared with all his heart that one such shard of the Dark Wizard was firmly lodged in the scar he had gifted to Harry.

Alatar had not reacted well to the news, ranting and raving to the heavens at the injustice of the poor boy's life, accusing Albus of concealing the information deliberately, and questioning if the 'old fool,' as he had called Albus, was planning on allowing Harry to be killed just to destroy Voldemort.

Albus admitted that the thought had crossed his mind, and the unfortunate reality was that he saw no other way of removing the shard of Voldemort soul that included Harry's survival. He had thought briefly about the Deathly Hallows perhaps protecting Harry if it came to that, but had not mentioned them to the Istari.

Albus knew that the information had caused a great amount of grief and unease in the group of five students that had so long been the closest of friends, and he was personally very glad that it had been resolved somewhat. Alatar had sworn that he would not tell Harry about the Horcruxes, instead stating that he would find a way to save the boy's life and still destroy Voldemort.

Albus last thought on the matter, just as he saw Harry striding confidently to the center of the pitch, was the he truly wished that such a path could be found. Harry brought his wand to his throat, and Albus saw him cast the Sonorous Charm, his young voice booming around the pitch so all could hear.

"Welcome everyone, to this term's first official meeting of Dumbledore's Army!" The crowd cheered in response, and Albus had to admire Harry's prowess in public speaking. The normally shy and somewhat timid boy had grown a lot since his exposure to the magical world, and Albus had a sinking feeling that if he had had free reign to control Harry's destiny, that the exceptional young man before him would not have been.

"This evening," Harry continued, sweeping an arm wide toward Albus, "we have a very special treat, as our own Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore," the crowd cheered as Albus walked further onto the pitch and into view of the surrounding stands, "has graciously agreed to a demonstration of a full wizards duel. Please give a warm Hogwart's welcome to our guest opponent, Lord Zemar of Germany!" Alatar stepped forward amid another chorus of cheers and applause, settled into the stoic grimness that had become part of the Light Lord's persona.

"This duel will be based on the ICW full battle system. No lethal or dark spells are permitted, otherwise anything goes. First to yield or be struck unconscious will be declared defeated." Harry stepped back, and Albus approached the center, mirroring Alatar. Albus watched the ancient Istari fingering his jeweled wand, and instinctively checked his own weapons, twirling the Elder Wand in his blackened hand and touching the hilt of Gryffindor's sword on his belt.

"Combatants," Harry signaled, "raise wards." Together, Albus and Alatar raised their respective wands, intoning spells of warding and protection to cover the entirety of the stands around them. This was done to ensure that the spectators were protected until the duel was officially over. Watching the brilliant, transparent shields cover the entirety of the pitch grounds, Harry nodded, backing away until he too was outside the wards.

"Combatants," Harry called a second time, "wands at the ready."

Both wizards raised the wands in salute to each other, and bowed. Spinning on his heel, Albus marched seven paces from the center, turning and dropping into a ready stance.

As soon as they were ready, Harry started the countdown, "One… Two… Three!"

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Hermione, along with the majority of the gather students, gasped in shock and awe as Faykan and Dumbledore exploded into action. She had never thought the aged Headmaster could move so fast, but the man was keeping pace with Faykan spell for spell. The lights and explosions blossomed all around, many reflecting off the wards that the pair had conjured earlier, and Hermione was deeply grateful that they had.

Small orbs, created by the various professors patrolling the stands for emergencies, floated over the ward, displaying close up displays of the combatants and their wand work. It was absolutely astounding. Neither wizard spoke, merely flicking or slashing their wands and creating a plethora of multicolored jets and rays of light and fire. Each were protected by their own personal shield charms, spell reflecting off them like fireworks, as the pair advanced on each other like juggernauts.

Hermione was instantly reminded of the massive reserves of power that Faykan possessed. Despite the glamour that hid his features from the school, Hermione could see that he was barely breaking a sweat from the magic expelled in the opening salvos.

The two wizards started to slowly circle each other, examining defenses and searching for opening to attack. Dumbledore seemed to be reserving his strength while Faykan was constantly testing and prodding at the Headmaster's shield.

Suddenly, Faykan whirled, apparating directly behind Dumbledore, and unsheathing Glamdring with a flourish. The sharp clang of metal on metal sounded as Professor Dumbledore spun with the sword of Gryffindor and intercepted the attack. The conflict began anew, each using both sword and wand in a close dance that was more borderline of an art rather than a duel.

Dumbledore was giving ground, Faykan's greater experience with the metal blade giving him a distinct edge. Finally, Dumbledore withdrew, apparating himself several yards back from Faykan, and launched a short burst of spells. Faykan blocked most of them, but one caught the sword in his other hand and sent the gleaming blade flying. The elven weapon dug deep into the ground, but Faykan had already returned to the offensive, chanting rhythmically in elvish as he sent spell after spell at Dumbledore.

Returning the jeweled sword to his belt, Dumbledore dodged and redirected the barrage, retaliating as he could under the pressure of Faykan's magic. Sending one golden beam from his wand, Dumbledore's eyes flashed as his spell collided with a violet ray cast by Faykan and their wands became locked together, energy building in between them as they tried to force their spell to overcome the others.

Rapidly Faykan was gaining ground, the orb of power being pushed toward the Headmaster. Jerking his wand to the side, Dumbledore broke the spell and the energy detonated, causing a large plumb of dirt to envelope the area around the pair of wizards.

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Albus coughed as he tried to clear the air in his lungs of dust. He needed to put more distance between himself and Alatar if he was going to defend himself from the Istari's next attacks. Albus understood why such opponents like Bellatrix LeStrange would rather flee instead of stand and fight. Even with the Elder Wand, Albus was constantly on the defensive. Any attempt he made to counterattack was met with an almost destructive blast of power.

Exiting the dust cloud, Albus raised his shielding ward around himself, catching his breath and searching for a glimpse of Alatar. His hand ached from the constant jarring on combat, but Albus didn't have time to so much as switch his wand as the dust cloud was forcibly shunt aside by magic. The fire glowing in Alatar's eyes mixed with the confident smirk told Albus all he needed. The Istari had been looking forward to this moment for six years. The jeweled staff, now revealed from its previously hidden shape, sparkled and pulsated with the ancient wizard's magic.

"Aiya orme alu!" he cried, swinging his staff in an upward arc. Albus felt the ground tremble beneath him, and dove to the side just as a powerful geyser of water broke the surface and exploded upward. Drenched, the Headmaster waved his own wand at the water, freezing several long icicles from it and banishing them at Alatar in turn, buying time to rise to his feet again.

Alatar actually laughed as he dodged around the makeshift projectiles with ease, casually launching jets of silver and turquoise at Albus, continued to speak incantations in the elven tongue. Even as he battled just to stay on his feet, Albus felt a spark of curiosity at the ingenuity and power that the ancient words could command, as he never truly had opportunity to learn much of ancient Sindarin language.

Shaking himself from his distraction, Albus focused at the task before him. If he remained defensive, he could not win. That left the aged wizard with one choice. Studying Alatar's movement and wand work, Albus slowly began to see the dance-like pattern, and timed a moment to strike true. A disarming charm, stunner, and pair of minor hexes leapt from the Elder Wand, right as Alatar was drawing magic to himself to attack.

The stunner was blocked instantly, impacting the dome-like shield around the Istari, followed by the minor hexes, which with the shield at its weakest level of power while Alatar was casting. Albus had cast with precision however, having each of the first three impact exactly the correct point, momentarily creating a fissure in the shield, just long enough for the disarming charm to slip in.

The staff was ripped from Alatar's hands, soared through the air and landed yards away with a clatter. Albus relaxed certain that he had obtained victory. "It's over my friend," he called serenely, "your weapons are gone, and you are defenseless."

Alatar's continued smirk was the only thing that saved Albus. The illusioned wizard threw both hands forward, and arcs of blazing fire leap from his hands, only deflected by a hastily raised shield. Albus could only stare for full moment. Not only a master of Elven spells and power, Alatar was also able to command the raw components of magic at will.

It was almost too much, as Albus ducked and retreated, blocking bolts of lightning and blasts of fire. Alatar was truly a force to be reckoned with, and Albus was suddenly very glad that he had never seriously attempted to go toe to toe with him before now.

Albus winced as the ground jolted again, "Kemen Karakse!" Alatar cried, punching a fist into the air, and causing a solid mound of earth to shoot straight up, catching the Headmaster on his wand arm, and sending the Elder Wand tumbling from his grasp.

Running through what options he had left, Albus drew Godric Gryffindor's sword, looking for any possibility to retrieve his primary weapon. But Alatar was unrelenting, bearing down upon Albus like a giant from its mountain home. Soon, too, the sword was removed from him, and Albus had nothing left to defend himself with. As another jet of fire surged past him, Albus caught a fair glance of the components of the raw magic.

It was… intriguing, unrefined and very blunted in the use of magic, and quite possibly the most difficult thing for any modern witch or wizard to attempt. But Albus wasn't just any witch or wizard.

Casting a few detection spells from the small selection of wandless magic he could perform, Albus watched intently as he continued to be herded by the raw elemental blasts. When he figured that he had a feel for how the Istari was conjuring and controlling the wild bursts of energy, he planting himself firmly.

An arcing bolt of lightning flew straight at him, and Albus intercepted it with his blackened fingers. The magical electricity felt like nothing he expected. It hurt to say the very least, but at the same time Albus never felt more powerful in his life. Everything seemed to slow around him as Albus turned, seeming to slowly guide the flowing energy around him in a circle, and releasing it back in the direction of Alatar.

The youthful yet ancient wizard widened his eyes in surprise as he ducked the wild bolt of his own magic, turning to watch it impact the ground behind him. When he returned his attention to Albus, there was something new in his eyes… respect.

Suddenly the world caught up with Albus, and the scream of cheering from the onlookers at the surprising turn of events blasted into life. Alatar seemed to be readjusting his outlook of the contest, firing more systematic and calculated bursts of magic, many of which Albus was able to dodge or redirect with relative ease. It had been a long time since Albus felt that he had truly learning something new about magic from another, and he had forgotten the wonder that the realization brought to him.

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Hermione felt a stab of surprise as she watched Dumbledore redirecting Faykan's formless magic, and apparently her friend out on the pitch was just as surprised, allowing Dumbledore to start pushing the fight back to the center of the stadium. Fay's shields started to weaken, and Hermione almost thought that all his energy being used against him was becoming his downfall.

Only when she saw the small pinpricks of light on his fingers did she realize that it wasn't Dumbledore's offensive that was sapping his magic, but his own channeling. Watching the viewing orb closely, Hermione could make out a few of the chants he was saying, but it was partially drowned out by the blasts and explosions all around him.

"Quel sul hosta e'a…" a loud explosion blocked part of what Faykan was chanting, but his eyes started to glow softly as he traced a circle around him in the air, "…hyanda en' vilya!"

From what words she recognized, Hermione's eyes widened moments before a small storm erupted around Faykan, buffeting everyone with the strong gusts of wind. Any attempt on Professor Dumbledore's part to control the storm was unsuccessful as the winds grew more violent and started to move towards the aged Headmaster. Running faster than Hermione thought was possible, Dumbledore sped away from the raging cyclone, darting around the edge of the pitch, and ending up behind Faykan, who was rooted in the center channeling his spell.

Producing a wand seemingly from thin air, Dumbledore blasted Faykan directly in the back with a crimson stunner, breaking his concentration but not managing to knock him unconscious. Angered, Faykan whipped around and slammed a hand, fingers first, into the ground, yelling "Talar' niire!" a massive fissure split the grass of the pitch, zigzagging at Dumbledore.

The old man was knocked from his feet, lost his wand a second time, and landed hard on the uneven ground. Faykan advanced, and Hermione was shocked to see the battle rage burning in his eyes. Glamdring flew through the air into his hand, and Hermione gasped as Faykan raised the blade over his head, preparing to strike Dumbledore as he lay on the ground.

A sharp bang filled the air, as red sparks shot from Harry's wand. "Headmaster Dumbledore has yielded," he declared, and the crowd burst into loud and wild cheering followed. The elderly wizard rose shakily to his feet, but Hermione was focused on Faykan. The boy was shaking, trying very hard to restrain himself, and slowly sheathed his weapon and retrieved his staff, disappearing as the crowds started to depart so that Will Stanton could sneak his way to the exit of the stands to be with other members of the A.D.A. who were manning the tables with the signup list for the restarted club. By the time Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco caught up; Fay was frantically trying to organize the many people swarming the table with quills and parchment to add their names. He flashed them a wide grin, but Hermione thought she saw something out of place in his eyes as they gathered up the many sheets of paper and made their way back to their respective common rooms.

They each stay up late that evening, sorting through the long list of names and creating new coins for communication. Hermione didn't see a practical reason for it, but the three Gryffindor boys argued that it was a D.A. tradition. Faykan also cited how useful they had been over the summer and at the end of the previous term, which jogged her memory regarding Faykan's frightening rage that she witnessed during the Battle of Cornwall.

Putting her wand down, Hermione looked around. The common room was deserted aside from their small area around the fire, and she felt safe enough that they would not be disturbed at this late hour. "Faykan, I want to ask you something about earlier, at the D.A. event," she started slowly.

The boy looked at her for a moment, before nodding his consent. Taking a deep breath, Hermione proceeded, retelling her viewpoint of Faykan standing over Dumbledore, ready to deliver a deathblow, as well as the madness that overtook him during the battle that summer, as well as his constant desire to rush headlong into conflict with little to no heed of his or anyone else's safety.

When she had finished, she looked sheepishly at the boy, knowing that both Ron and Harry were staring now at them both. For his part, Faykan had kept his reaction very controlled, only standing and pacing slightly as she explained example after example. "So, I'm worried Fay, there's some sort of uncontrollable recklessness that you fall under in the heat of battle, and I don't know how we can help, if we even are able to."

Looking up, Hermione locked eyes with Faykan, who as looking more saddened than anything else. "I…" he started, before glancing at both Harry and Ron, "I need time to think about this, first." And he walked from the common room.

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Severus instinctively knew that Faykan had come to visit him where there was a knock at his office door late into the night after the duel with the Headmaster. Pulling it open without even a glance at the boy, Severus indicated one of the small chairs that were set for what few visitors he received.

Returning to his marking, Severus waited for the boy to begin explaining why he had come, or what idea he had had, but no sound came from Faykan. After several long moments, Severus finally looked up. The boy was sitting rather gingerly, staring into space with a look that was far more scattered and distracted than his normal intensity. That alone was cause for concern.

"Is there something you wish to discuss? Or are you merely wishing to intrude on my privacy?" Severus said, injecting a small amount of levity into his words, hoping to spark the boy out of his stupor.

Faykan smiled weakly, still deep in sullen thought, "I'm just concerned that I may be taking too much of a hands-on approach to the war with Voldemort." He paused, and Severus nodded in understanding. It was a similar problem that Albus had expressed a few times in the previous years; expect the Headmaster had feared he was allowing too much to go on without his direct control.

"I mean," Faykan continued, "I understand my weaknesses, and the position I am put in as supreme leader is taking its toll, and I'm starting to revert to very old habits to cope, habits that put everyone around me in danger, and led to a dark place before…" he looked up, and Severus saw the beginning of tears forming in his eyes, "Hermione's already noticed, and I don't know how to tell them. It's like last year all over again, and they're already furious from when Dumbledore pulled me into another battle without them a few days ago."

Severus shook his head sadly as he sat beside his old friend. "You've never changed, haven't you?" he asked slyly, smirking as Faykan looked at him in confusion. "You never consider that others are willing and able to carry part of the burden, or even that it could not be yours to bear in the first place," Severus explained gently.

"For the first two years of my time at Hogwarts," he continued, putting an arm reassuringly on Faykan's shoulder, "there was a friend of mine that fought my battles, tormented those who dared to bully me. But once he was gone it all began again, worse than before." Faykan dropped his gaze, but Severus gripped his shoulder harder, making him look up again, "If that boy had taught me to defend myself, only stepping in when absolutely necessary, I may have been better off. Both are good things, but one is best."

Standing and returning to his desk, Severus opened the door with a wave of his wand. "You must do what you feel is best, but remember that you are not alone, and whatever your past is, Draco and those three Gryffindors are there for you. They will understand why you hide things that you feel are weaknesses."

Faykan smiled again as he stood, cheered somewhat at Severus' words. Walking to the door, he turned back for a moment, "thank you Sev, you're far more aware of how to deal with emotions than you let on sometimes."

After the door closed, Severus set aside his quill, pondering his friend's parting words. "Only because you taught it to me," he said, before departing for his own quarters and the sleep that called to him.

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Harry had stayed up late again to make sure Faykan arrived back at the Tower. The fire had long burned out, but Harry was far too deep in thought to care. This time he was waiting here out of concern and not anger. Ron and Hermione had gone to bed at his insistence, as the Quidditch match was the next afternoon. The fact the he also needed sleep to function well was drowned out by the memory of Faykan's great unease as a simple question from Hermione, yet something that had bordered several that he had wanted to ask for a long time.

For all the years that Harry had known Faykan, in any of his disguises or identities, he had never truly asked much about the wizards past. Now that he knew that said past reached back many thousands of years, more questions had flared into life, but out of respect for Fay's privacy Harry had refrained, but now he wondered if it was best for him to have done so.

Hermione had shared some of her thoughts and concerns after the raven haired boy had left, and Harry remembered seeing some of the same signs. Back in their second year, Faykan's first reaction to being threatened by Aragog's brood of spiders was to attack them, crying for the rest to run while he fended them off. Not two years later, he had fought Voldemort face to face and lost.

It was a mad sort of… bloodlust… that Harry had a very hard time placing on the kind boy that was his first and closest friend. It worried him to no end the rest of the evening, which led to him sitting there alone in the common room when Fay returned, slipping in past the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Fay," Harry said softly as the boy made to stealth through the room. He jumped, but relaxed when Harry shot sparks into the fireplace, relighting it.

"Harry," he said, smiling sheepishly, "figures that you'd wait up for me again."

"We're just worried is all," Harry replied. Fay's smiled deepened as he grew more serious, "I know."

Sitting heavily in the chair opposite him, Faykan seemed to grow older before Harry's eyes, yet physically he didn't change.

A sudden insight into his best friend's position sprang up in Harry's mind. Faykan seemed world weary, worn beyond years of time from watching friends and loved ones pass away while he remained the same, eternal. It was pain in its purest form, lifetime upon lifetime of mistakes and experiences that Harry was certain that he or anyone else at Hogwarts would have buckled under long ago.

In that moment, Harry felt the urge to never ask Faykan about his life again. But… in so doing, he would be leaving his friend to torment from all manner of ills that had affected him in his long lifetime. And if Harry had learned anything from his friendship with the Istari, it was that all things could be managed with help from others.

"Do you care to share anything? We may be able to help…" he offered, struggling to keep the pleading out of his voice.

Fay sighed mournfully, "I suppose I have little choice in whether I share what's bothering me or not, especially with Hermione so doggedly on me, but…" he paused, looking at Harry for any reaction, "can it wait till after the Quidditch Match?"

Harry nodded, "sure, I suppose we can restrain Hermione from interrogation that long."

Faykan chuckled. Harry stretched tiredly, and started to pack the sheets of homework he had been trying to kill time with while he waited, "now all that needs to be sorted out is Ron and his issue about playing the game and not letting it get to his head."

"I may have a solution," Faykan said, "a little mental exercise that he can use to pep talk himself…"

"Anything is better than where we are now…" Harry admitted, taking his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

Making his way to the stairs up to the dormitories, Harry paused and looked back. Faykan hadn't moved, just sat staring into the fire. "You coming to bed?" he asked. Faykan didn't react, and Harry frowned. This was a side of his friend he had never really seen before, and he was very uncertain if or how he could help. "Goodnight Harry," Fay called softly as the green eyed boy ascended the stairs alone.

Aiya orme alu - Oh violent water!

Kemen Karakse - earth spike

Talar' niire – Ground tear

quel sul hosta e'a - good wind gather

hyanda en' vilya - into blade of air