Much thanks to those who've read up to this point, there's been an increase in insufferable people who mistakenly believe that they completely and fully understand a story after 2 chapters and have the condescending audacity to complain that it isn't to their exact liking because of those incorrect assumptions, but I digress. R&R and enjoy the next chapter! ~F

Chapter Eleven

Fox Among Cobras

The Dark Lord Voldemort sat in the personal chambers being offered to him graciously by his loyal servant, Lucius. Much time had gone into many of his war efforts, each and every one being set out with meticulous planning, and the Dark Lord of the earth was growing frustrated at the lack of success his servants were achieving. Could the weak minded fools even be trusted to carry out the simplest instructions?

Over the past several months, every time he moved to make a disruption for the British Ministry, that blasted Istari would be there, opposing him like a vanguard for the forces of Light, along with his ragtag army of squibs and muggles. Twice this year they had met in all out combat, and twice the forces of Light had pushed him back, preventing Voldemort any sort of progress in disposing the misguided cowards of the Ministry.

Many had died, not only in the battles but by Voldemort's own wand for their failure, but it was of little consequence. More gathered to him daily, coming from far and near to aid the one that held their allegiance. Emissaries had been sent to those who refused to answer the call, vampires and trolls and the dark men of the south.

In the end, all would indeed bow to the Dark Lord's scepter, and acknowledge that he was indeed their master and ruler. Once the pesky Istari fell to his might, their hope would die with him.

'Do not underestimate the power of the Lord out of the West…' the ring of power purred in his mind. Frowning, the Dark Lord glanced down at the fiery gem upon his finger as it twinkled in the light from the fireplace behind him. More and more, the voice of some ethereal being seemed to be communicating with him; more and more it seemed to hold sway over his emotions.

And yet, he could not see himself parting with it. The sheer power that was gifted to him was worth far more than armies or lands ever could. No, the ring was his and his alone now. He would never remove it, or else return to a state weaker than the now two Light Lords with which he contended for the fate of Britain, and eventually, the world.

A small pop announced the arrival of a messenger elf, which crawled before the Dark Lord and presented a letter to him, disapparating immediately after it was taken from the worthless creature.

The parchment indicated, by its magical aura mostly, that it had originated within Hogwarts Castle, which made Lord Voldemort more eager to read its contents. Hopefully the boy would have far better news for his Lord than the rest of Voldemort's servants had.

It only took a few lines in to spread a wicked grin across the Dark Lord's face. Nott had been busily at work, fulfilling his commission as commanded, and from what was written, the boy estimated that his project would be ready by the beginning of May, given the forces of Darkness time enough to use it at their discretion before the end of the school year.

Nott was a faithful servant, Lord Voldemort mused as he disintegrated the parchment into ashes with a mere thought. The boy would be of great use after this venture.

As he returned to planning his next offensive on the outlying villages in Britain, the Dark Lord absently began formulating when and how to strike. Soon enough the populace of the Wizarding world would know fear, and recall that he was Lord Voldemort, the great and powerful He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

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Both Harry and Ron were released from their stay in the hospital wing the Monday after the Quidditch Match. Draco smiled to himself as he saw the pair appear for breakfast, and both Faykan and Hermione dashed to greet them. It was good to see that Hermione had at last chosen to completely forgive Ron for his fling with Lavender. As the quartet returned and retook their seats, they immediately began filling the pair in on the news that they had missed out on.

"Oh, Ginny also had a big row with Dean," Faykan said casually, which put a large smile on Ron's face. Draco smiled as well, but more so to himself. The small creature of jealousy that slumbered in his chest suddenly rose up, hopefully sniffing the air.

"What did they row about?" Harry asked, and Draco was silently thankful that he had asked, as it would have been more awkward for Draco to do so.

"Oh," Hermione responded absently, as though it was nothing major, "Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that bludger at you,"

As the others continued their conversation and it flowed to other topics, Draco silently dwelled on the precept that Ginny and Dean could be close to breaking up. And here he was, positioned in the same house, ready to catch her in the potential fallout.

Soon enough they were finished with the meal and Draco's four friends stood to return to the common room for their books for the day's lessons.

As Faykan and Harry, who were in the lead, passed through the doors to the Entrance Hall, Draco felt eyes on their group. Turning slightly to glance at the Slytherin table, he was chilled to spot Theodore staring at them, a glint of satisfied malice on his face. in was in that exact moment that Draco realized that whatever project they were attempting to spy on was more than likely nearing completion, if Nott was so happy.

It greatly disturbed any thoughts of Ginny from Draco's mind as he jogged to catch up with his friends and fill them in on Nott's newfound glee. He caught up to them midway up the staircase, but before he could tell them, but just then the blond head of Luna Lovegood appeared on the landing above them, "Harry!" she called, getting all their attention immediately.

"I went looking for you in the hospital wing, but they said you had already left…" she said, rummaging through her bag for something. They all guessed immediately what she had for Harry before she pulled out the crumpled note from the Headmaster.

"Nice commentary last match!" Ron said happily to Luna, who smiled vaguely in reply.

"You're making fun of me aren't you?" she said. "Everyone says I was dreadful."

"No, I'm serious!" the red haired boy said earnestly, while Harry nodded in agreement, "I can't remember enjoying commentary more!"

She smiled more genuinely at that, and skipped away back down the corridor she had come. Ron chuckled to himself as they continued upward. "You know, she's grown on me, Luna," he said absently, but stopped short when they arrived at the Seventh Floor. Lavender Brown was waiting there, looking furious.

"Hi," Ron said sheepishly, suddenly very nervous.

"C'mon," Draco heard Harry mutter to the himself, Hermione and Faykan, and together they quickly departed, unfortunately not fast enough before they heard Lavender say, "Why didn't you tell me you were getting out today? And why was she with you?"

Ron appeared both sulky and annoyed when he appeared at class later, and although he sat with Lavender, neither seemed to speak to the other and Ron kept sending their group hopeless glances.

What was more, Draco noticed that Hermione acted quite oblivious to all the tension between Ron and his girlfriend, but there were a few particular moments when he swore he caught a smirk on her face as she spotted the two. It was quite clear that she knew that Ron and Lavender were going to separate and whether she would admit it or not, Hermione was very much interested in having Ron more to herself.

She was therefore in an extremely good mood the entire day, and that allowed for a very engaging period of training and study in the Room of Requirement up until about eight in the evening, when Faykan and Harry were expected to go meet with the Headmaster.

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Albus smiled as a knock came upon his office door at five minutes to eight. 'Just in time,' he thought thankfully as he called for the boys to enter.

Sybill Trelawney turned to face them both as the door swung open, "Aha!" she cried in outrage, pointing at them both, "So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"

Albus sighed. He already had known about the woman's concerns with Firenze remaining in the castle to assist in teaching Divination. If not for her own safety, as well as her personal connection with the prophecies surrounding Voldemort, Albus wouldn't have been trying so hard to keep her in the castle at all.

"My dear Sybill," he said, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice, "there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Harry and Will do have an appointment, and it would be quite rude to keep them from their evening, wouldn't you agree?"

"Very well," Sybill replied, still sounding very offended and hurt, "If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it… Perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated…"

The woman pushed past the two boys and disappeared down the spiral staircase. Sighing again, Albus beckon for the two young men to approach and close the door. Sybill wouldn't leave Hogwarts, despite her threat. She had no family left and nowhere really to go. It was still disappointing that she was so jealous about another being having an opportunity to be safely protected within the castle wards.

He was thankful that neither Harry nor Alatar felt inclined to continue to topic of Sybill Trelawney, each understanding the subject matter and surrounding issues. "Well, Harry, Lord Alatar," Albus began after a few moments of collecting his thoughts, "have you managed the task I set you both at the end of our previous lesson?"

"Ah," Harry started, and then stopped short, looking disappointed and slightly embarrassed. Alatar picked up for his friend in Harry's silence.

"We've been working on a plan to try and convince Slughorn to give it up willingly, but between everything that happened over the last few weeks we have yet to find opportunity to put it into action."

Albus nodded, disappointed, but understanding. Between Mr. Weasley's attack, Harry's accident on the pitch and lessons it would be difficult to fully implement a plan to trap the wily Potion's Master.

"Then we shall say no more about it just now," he added kindly, which caused Harry to relax from his previous state of agitation, "but we shall instead continue where we left off in Tom Riddle's history."

Quickly they summarized several of the things they had discussed previously, about how Voldemort killed his own father and muggle grandparents, pinning the blame firmly on his maternal uncle, Morfin. Afterward, the boy returned to school for his sixth year and learned something about Horcruxes from Professor Slughorn before graduating.

Finally turning to the final memories that he had on the desk before them, that of the house elf Hokey, and explaining the choice of employment that Tom Riddle sought soon after graduating, wishing to become a professor, but settling for an assistant at Borgin and Burkes when rejected on Albus' own recommendation.

As Harry and Alatar viewed the memory, Albus caught the ancient Istari's eye as the cup of Hufflepuff and locket of Slytherin were shown to the young Tom Riddle. The fire that burned within the azure eyes boded that he had some keen words to share with Albus, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts knew immediately that the millennia old wizard had pieced the riddle together. How he had done so, Albus was not sure and feared that he may not learn the full details.

After they exited, Alatar wasted no time. "Wouldn't it be best, Albus, if we knew the full reasoning behind these memories?" he asked pointedly, nodding at the Pensieve. Harry looked confused at the sudden tension that passed between the two, but Albus merely shook his head. It was not yet time to curse Harry with the fullness of his suspicion. If there was a chance, any chance, that he was wrong, he'd much rather Harry never have to learn of those evil creations. But with every found memory, Albus' hope dwindled, but he would cling to it until proved without a doubt that he was correct.

"I'm not completely sure there may be a connection, Lord Alatar," he answered half-truthfully, "but every single one is another glimpse at what makes up the man Voldemort, and knowledge, as you know well, is great power."

Alatar sat back, frowning, but remained silent. Harry was still probably confused. "Fine," Alatar said after a moment, "Then I also have one last memory to share, if I may."

Seeing no reason that he could decline, Albus nodded, watching the silvery thread of memory pour into the basin. Plunging into it, Albus found himself in a quaint muggle town, one that was unfamiliar to him.

Alatar was much older now, seeming somewhere in his mid twenties, and by the date on the paper he was holding, Albus could tell that it was near the beginning of the first Wizarding War with Voldemort. Alatar seemed to be checking around him, as though he sensed that something was nearby, but continued on his way, walking with purpose.

Soon, a figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking Alatar's path, but remaining in the shadows. Stopping short, the Istari lowered his hands slowly at the pointed wand, but the smirk that seemed to have been plastered to his face remained.

"Hello again Tom… It's been a long time…" Alatar said casually, greeting the now Dark Lord as if he wasn't being threatened by the man's wand.

"Undol," the man Voldemort hissed, stepping toward the Istari from the shadows. "I imagine you're surprised to see me after all these years?"

"Honestly?" Alatar asked momentarily, calm and collected as a mountain before a storm, "I am not Tom. You always made it clear that you wanted me to serve you, or at the least that my family's power and knowledge would be put to use under your control."

Riddle sneered, eyes seeming to glow beneath the light hood he wore along with his dark cloak. "Then surely, in your great foresight, you saw that it would inevitable come to this point, where you must either swear loyalty to me… or die."

Alatar sighed, lowering his hands and dropping the copy of the Daily Prophet he held. "I see there is little choice in this, my onetime friend." Quick as a flash, the Istari snapped a wand into his hand, twisting out of the way of the Killing Curse shot by Lord Voldemort. Their duel, while lacking much of the torrential energy as the one at the Department of Mysteries the previous year, was still very energetic, spells flying from wandtip as such a pace that Albus had difficulty keeping track of who shot what.

Eventually, Alatar took shelter behind a building, and Tom halted his casting, waiting for the Istari to make his next move. "You cannot escape me this time Undol," Tom gloated, twirling his wand lazily as he stalked closer to the place where Alatar had paused for breath, "my followers are keeping an anti-apparition field on this area, all for you. Just surrender yourself, and your family's knowledge to me, and I'll even allow you to live. I've missed having you around, old friend…"

"You never were very good at lying to me Tom," Alatar chided the Dark Lord, "We both know that you've waited for this chance for a long time."

"Perhaps I have," Voldemort mused, smirking, and blasting the stone wall separating the two wizards with a blasting hex. Alatar spun away as the wall detonated, dodging the shrapnel of stone, but now in line with the Dark Lord's wand. "Avada Kedavera!"

The deadly green energy was quickly intercepted by a shining jet of purple light from Altar, the flare between the joined spell lighting the night of the town. Glancing around, Albus wondered why none of the muggles in the nearby houses had been aroused from their slumbers, but answers were not forth coming, as the pair of powerful wizards continued their duel.

Alatar seemed to be withholding much of his power, either to the end of not wanting to betray the full extent to Voldemort, or he truly had no desire to simply kill the budding Dark Lord despite his evil intentions. Albus could not fault the Istari for that, if it was the case, he himself having misgivings for the way his last confrontation with Gellert ended. Even he could not bring himself to kill his old friend, because of the brotherly love he had had once for the man and his ideals.

Throwing himself aside, Alatar allowed the joined spells to shoot past him, allowing him a moment's distraction to charge at Voldemort, tackling the pale man to the ground. "Control yourself Tom, you are not yourself!" Alatar cried, trying to pry the wand out of Voldemort's grasp, but he failed, being punched in the side of the head as the Dark Lord lashed back in anger.

They rolled, and suddenly Tom was in control, grappling Alatar, and grasping him by the throat. Once, twice, three times the Dark Lord violently slammed the Istari's head into the unforgiving pavement, making small cracks in the cement beneath them, but still the ancient wizard fought on.

A blast from the wand, clutched loosely in the Istari's hand, threw the Dark Lord from on top of him, and the wizards each staggered to their feet, Tom sporting a cut on his once handsome face, and Alatar weaving as he tried to find his balance, blood seeping from the back of his head.

Wands rose again, but the ancient wizard's was shaking slightly from delirium. Voldemort smirked, and began a new steady barrage of magic, forcing Alatar back against the nearest building, before several concussive blasts leveled the wall around him. The rubble swallowed Alatar, shrouding him from view entirely. Once the dust cleared, only a pale hand was visible above the rubble of the building.

Tom took a few steps closer, checking around as the sounds of muggles approaching sounded, as the crashing of the building had finally aroused their panic, but they were yet a ways off from happening upon the scene. Voldemort stared a few moments at the hand, before speaking softly to himself more than anyone, "I had truly not wanted this. If you would have just seen things my way Faykan…" turning, the monster that would kill thousands more shook his head, before smiling deeply and walking off into the darkness.

What Tom had missed however, would probably have removed all smugness from his features, as the hand slowly clenched into a fist. Alatar was alive underneath the rubble, and just before the muggles arrived with their emergency vehicles, a sharp crack sounded, and the hand, along with the rest of its body presumable, had vanished from sight.

The memory ended, ejecting each of them from the Pensieve immediately. Altar stood, glaring boldly at Dumbledore as he and Harry digested what they had seen. "He's heartless, Albus," Alatar said finally, after more silence, "If we do not do everything possible to defeat him, then he will go on to destroy everything we have fought to hold dear. You know this, and Harry knows this. Are you completely sure that there is nothing else you can tell us before we retrieve Slughorn's memory?

Albus cringed inwardly. The desire to tell all of his fears was welling up inside him, knowing that if Harry didn't know everything he was getting into, then their future would be potentially lost. But he wanted just as desperately to spare the boy the devastation and pain that could come with that knowledge. "No, Lord Alatar, nothing until we have that memory." He said at last, bowing his head to prevent himself from meeting the blazing blue eyes.

Alatar took a deep breath, "All right," he said slowly, "then we will retrieve it as soon as we can."

"That is all I can ask for," Albus replied, before dismissing the pair for the evening. Alatar quickly reclaimed his memory, and they left, the softly shutting door sounding as though slammed with great force to Albus.

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Harry's confusion over the end of his most recent meeting with Faykan and Dumbledore persisted over the next week. It was apparent that he was out of the loop on something, and yet neither Dumbledore nor Faykan would tell him, or at least Dumbledore wouldn't and Faykan was trying to get the Headmaster to fill Harry in before they retrieved the memory from Slughorn.

Reading between the lines, he figured it had to do something about Horcruxes, and that it was rather important, and while he was annoyed that secrets were being kept from him again, he retrained himself to hoping that after the Potions Master's true memory was revealed that he would learn. If after that they refused to fill him in, then a storm would be unleashed on the pair of them.

In the meanwhile, he wracked his mind on how they could get Slughorn alone to persuade the man to part with the recollection, especially now that he was taking active measures to avoid not only Harry, but the other four Gryffindors at every opportunity.

They were wrapping up their homework in the Room of Requirement, Ron and Hermione working to repair an essay for Professor Snape that Ron's spell-check quill had butchered; the charm had begun to decay. Draco was going over his Arithmancy charts, which left Harry and Faykan with nothing to do as they sat around the table with the Palantír.

Faykan was staring into the orbs depths, clearly thinking about things far away, as he was won't to do at times like these, but Harry was far closer to home with his. "Fay," he asked, bringing the ancient wizard from his stupor. Blue eyes snapped into focus as he turned to him.

"Yes Harry," he asked as Harry paused, trying to phrase what he wanted to request. He had always wanted to know more about the mysterious wizard that had befriended him so long ago, but there had been so much that had happened over the years that prevented Harry from feeling comfortable to ask. He had begun that previous summer, but he felt as though he only touched the surface.

"I'd like to hear more about your life, you know, before we met." He asked, suddenly embarrassed at the awkwardness of the question.

Faykan only smiled, waving a hand at the Palantír before turning back to Harry again, "Any time in particular that you want to know more about?"

Harry thought for a moment. He would be very interested to know more about the time between the third age and more recent times, but a special time struck him, and he smiled as he responded, "While you were at Hogwarts with my parents."

Faykan smiled knowingly, and returned to concentrating on the orb, which started to softly glow. An image appeared within it of the castle grounds, and Harry watched intently as a perfect copy of Faykan was striding across the lawns, Slytherin robes adorning him and in the company of none other than a sixteen year old Lucius Malfoy.

It appeared to be a late spring weekend, with the sun only just passing overhead. Children from all years were sprawled out in the grass or walking down to the lake to relax. Lucius seemed to be rather against the idea of so much sunshine, but Faykan ignored the blond pureblood's annoyed glances, favoring a spot near the lake.

Harry kept waiting for a glimpse of his parents or their friends, and while the younger Lucius started to work on an essay, Faykan's Slytherin self laying out in the sunlight, James Potter appeared from the direction of the castle, with Sirius, Pettigrew and Remus in tow. They were all eleven, but still acted as if they had been friends for the longest time.

They gave the sixth year Slytherins a wide berth, James and Sirius glaring as Faykan waved at them with a smirk, before they settled down by a tree at the water's edge, well within earshot. For nearly a half hour Harry sat and listened to his eleven year old father talk with his friends about nothing more important than Quidditch, relishing in just these snapshots of his family that he had. Harry could finally see why everyone said that he resembled James so much. The untidy hair, lean Quidditch build, down to the shape of his face were so closely matched that he could have easily passed as James Potter if he changed the color of his eyes.

James became distracted eventually, and although Sirius kept trying to get his attention, Harry's father was drawn away from them, glancing farther down the lake toward the Forbidden Forest. There, laid out on some rocks near Hagrid's Cabin, was Lily Evans, along with an eleven year old Severus Snape, the Gryffindor and Slytherin clearly still maintaining their friendship despite house affiliation.

The pair of students was too far for Harry to over hear their conversation from his view around Faykan, but just seeing her laughing and acting normal meant a great deal to Harry. He wished that the memory could go on forever, but before he could ask Faykan if there were any other memories, a sharp cracking of apparation split the silence.

They all jumped in surprise, Hermione letting out a small startled shriek, while Ron spilt his ink bottle. Draco had flinched, almost dropping his notes. Dobby the Elf had appeared in their midst, beaming despite the obvious strain that the little creature was under, if his drooping eyes were any sign.

"Master Harry Potter!" the little elf said brightly, "Dobby has come for his regular report on what the mean, nasty Nott boy was doing."

Turning away from the now darkened Palantír, Harry smiled down at the loyal elf, who was bouncing in delight. "Hello Dobby, what do you have to report?" he asked.

The humor and delight that had shown in the elf's eyes faded slightly as he looked downcast, "Master, Sir. Dobby has not been able to find out what the nasty Nott boy was doing when he hides himself away all over the school. The boy wards wherever he is to keep others out, elves included, until he is finished, Harry Potter Sir."

Harry knew what was coming, and grabbed Dobby before he could find something to hurt himself with, "Dobby," he said, fighting the struggling elf in his arms, "I order you to never punish yourself for anything!"

Immediately the elf went limp, and Harry set him back on his feet, "Thank you Sir, Dobby still has to remind himself that he serves the great Harry Potter, and not his old Masters…"

"That's fine Dobby, I think you deserve a good rest, you look like you haven't slept for a while." Harry said, glad that the elf wasn't trying to bash his head against the floor or something.

"Dobby has not slept for a week, Sir!" Dobby replied proudly, swaying slightly, "Dobby only wishes to help the great Harry Potter as much as he can."

"And you will do the most help," Faykan said as he stood from his chair, flicking at dust on his robes, "by getting your much needed rest, so that you're at your best for whatever he has need of."

"Thank you, Great Sir," Dobby said, bowing to each of them in turn, and disappearing with another loud crack.

"Well," Harry said to the others after the elf departed, "That's the last we could try about Nott, I suppose all that's left for us to do is focus on getting that memory out of Slughorn…"

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Severus found his persisting reputation a wondrous advantage at times, as the last of his students hurtled through the door of his classroom moments before the bell rang for class. Even after the previous term of being astounded by the dramatic change in their professor, none of these Gryffindor or Hufflepuff sixth years dared to be late to a lesson.

Smirking at them all, Severus called for their essays on ways to combat dementors, casting a mass accio spell to summon the twenty-five scrolls of parchment to his desk for marking. "I hope that these are in the same quality as your papers on the Imperius Curse, I was greatly impressed with the amount of outside research that was put into each one. Now, if you will all open your books to page… Yes Mr. Finnigan?" Severus asked, and the young Irish Gryffindor smiled at being acknowledged.

"Sir," he said, "I've been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the paper about an Inferius…"

"Ah, you are referring to the report of a thief, by the name of Mundungus Fletcher, who was recently sent to Azkaban for impersonating one, am I correct?" Severus finished for him, successfully keeping the annoyance at the apparent lack of the boy actually reading the article from his voice.

"Yes, Sir," Finnegan replied, flushing slightly at his lack of knowledge about the story.

"Perhaps someone could help enlighten Mr. Finnigan?" Severus called, opening up the question to the class at large. Several hands went up, mainly from those members of the A.D.A. that Severus had previously assisted in tutoring in Defense against the Dark Arts, and Severus called upon Mr. Finch-Fletchly to answer.

"A ghost is the is the imprint of a departed wizard's or witch's soul left on the earth, which appears as a glowing, white translucent figure that matches them at the time of their death, while an Inferius is a dead body, reanimated by a Dark spell to serve the casters bidding, much like a puppet."

"Correct, fifteen points to Hufflepuff," Severus said, causing the lanky boy to smile. "I trust that has helped you Mr. Finnigan?" Severus said, returning to the Gryffindor to see if he had any other questions on the matter.

"Yes Sir," Finnigan said, opening his book and awaiting Severus to continue with his lesson on the Cruciatus Curse.

The Head of Slytherin was very pleased with the way his classes were being run, in part because of the significant decrease of dangerous concoctions that could explode with the simplest wrong move, as well as the much more positive response of the student body to his style, aided much by the efforts of Faykan, his friends, and the bi-weekly meetings of the reformed D.A. club.

They had chosen at the beginning to hold their classes in the Great Hall, but that had quickly become too small of a room for the growing crowd that had flocked to join, so they had to move outdoors once the weather became hospitable for students.

Harry had taken the massive influx of attention in stride, starting each and every student at the same level, and assigning large groups to those others students that had been heavily associated in the D.A. the previous year. Many had been aggravated that Neville Longbottom had also been included, but one lesson in they realized that the once timid Gryffindor was now a force to be reckoned with, and a relentless taskmaster for the group he supervised.

At first, the pacing that Harry had set for the club, going over spells that many had learned in their first a second years, wasn't received well by many of the upper years that hadn't participated previously, but one duel with Faykan silenced any complaint. There was not much that could be said when the boy could take down a seventh year with only a tickling jinx and several stinging hexes.

From there, it only had taken a month's worth of meetings before every student, down to the youngest first year, were learning to cast third year spells silently. From there, the groups started to splinter, the older years being involved with higher spells and advanced concepts like healing and transfiguration, while the younger years began to learn the arts of martial weapons, carefully supervised by Severus and the other sixth year Gryffindors.

With all the training that Harry was putting the students through, it was no surprise that Severus had had little to need to teach during his classes, and therefore he spent the majority of the time going over the theory, with practical demonstration only when he covered material that none of the Gryffindors had experienced. It was really a wonderful way to teach, as his normal dislike of teaching children and holding their hands through the material was mostly dispersed.

And this lesson proved to be very much the same. As the now sixth years had been introduced to the Unforgivable curses two years ago by the imposter who posed as Alastor Moody, Severus really only had to discuss with them the techniques in the book for countering and preventing the spell from being cast.

Sending the students away when the bell rang with their assignment of a foot and a half essay on how best to counter the Unforgivable, Severus started to gather their previous parchments for marking, when he noticed Harry, Draco and their friends loitering outside his classroom.

They spoke briefly with another fourth year Gryffindor girl, before she walked off, leaving a parchment in Harry's hand. Intrigued, Severus walked to the doorway, noticing that they were all intently reading over the black haired boy's shoulder.

"You'll be late for lunch," he said casually, but stopped when he saw their faces. Draco, Harry, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger were frozen with mixed expressions of shock, disbelief, and even exasperation. Faykan, on the other hand, was very still and silent, almost brooding on something. "What's wrong?" Severus pressed when they didn't react for several moments.

Faykan, instead of responding, took the parchment and handed it to the Potions Master, who gingerly took the note, straining slightly to read the untidy scrawl with tear marks blotching the ink in many spots.

'Dear Harry, Ron, Draco, Will, and Hermione!

Aragog died last night. Harry, Ron, and Draco, you all met him and you know how special he was. Hermione and Will, I know you'd both have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you'd nip down for the burial later this evening. I'm planning on doing it round dusk. That was his favorite time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak. Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.

Hagrid'

Severus couldn't help it; his first reaction was to immediately turn to Faykan and ask the first burning question that came to mind, "What is to be done about the spider's horde of children?"

For a long moment Faykan pondered before speaking, "I've given the matter much thought, always hoping that Aragog would recover, but I fear that we are out of time, and the forest cannot remain with the taint of the colony. Despite whatever feelings Hagrid might have for the children of his old friend, they must go, for the safety of the school and the village."

Severus nodded, before immediately escorting the Gryffindors to the Headmaster's office. He knew that not only did the old man need to be appraised of the development, not that it was likely that he was unaware, but also so that the two leaders of the Light could formulate exactly how they wanted to approach the threat.

"What are we going to do Fay," Harry asked as they swiftly walked toward the gargoyle that hid the entrance to the Head's office.

"We're attending that funeral," Faykan replied, a steely glint in his eyes, "and there we shall kill many birds with one stone."

Potential Spoilers Ahead: You Have Been Warned!

And yet another flashback to Faykan before meeting Harry. Personally I had always thought it would be more interesting to view the memories scenes from someone else's perspective, and for this one especially Albus' notions on the matter seemed far more productive than Harry's. Otherwise this chapter truly just serves as a setup for the next. Thx again to those who've read, my patience has been heavily taxed as of late by morons who shall remain nameless, and the positive reception is a bright ray in the midst of the gloom. Until next time! ~F