Chapter 67 – A Potential Solution

Early the morning following Harry Potter's latest escapade, found Albus Dumbledore leaving his office and making his way toward the dungeons of the school. Much like Sirius before him, Albus too had gone over the events of the night paying particular attention to the story that Harry had told of his actions, and had come to the same conclusion that Harry could not be telling everything about how he had managed, not only to find the Dark Lord's lair, but how he had managed to get there. His ruminations had also led him to the resident potions master, though he had taken care not to ascribe any motivations until he could hear his suspicions confirmed by the man himself.

It was thus as he approached the potions master's office that he heard the commotion coming from within, and stepped into a war zone rather than a professor's office. The contents of two cauldrons Severus had obviously been brewing had been upended, spilling over the floor, while scorch marks littered the walls—most prominently around the potions master, which gave Albus an indication of who had the upper hand—and the desk and much of the other furniture in the office was smashed into kindling.

Sirius stood with his back to Albus, unleashing a very impressive arsenal of offensive spells against Severus, while the potions master was struggling to deflect those attacks. With the ferocity with which Sirius was attacking, Severus had little time to respond in kind.

"What is the meaning of this?" Albus bellowed over the din.

Sirius ignored him. In the years to come Albus would often ask himself why he had not intervened. He could have taken his defense professor down from behind with little difficulty had he chosen to do so, and Severus would not have been able to counter, as desperate as he was to keep Sirius's attacks from reaching him. Whatever the reason was, Albus stayed his hand, though he did raise his wand. It was clear that Sirius had come to the same conclusion as he had himself, and Albus had to admit that he was interested to hear what his defense professor had discovered, and how Severus would justify himself.

As it turned out, the fight would be over just minutes later. Sirius, having disarmed Severus, stepped forward and pressed his wand against the pale man's neck.

"Are you ready to face judgment for your sins, Death Eater?" Sirius spat.

"Do what you will," the potions master said, his chest heaving. "You can't do anything to me that would be worse than what I've lived with all these years."

That seemed to give Sirius pause, and he was silent for several moments. Albus was perhaps better positioned to understand the truth of Severus's words, having dealt with the man daily since hiring him on at Hogwarts. But now was not the time or place for such reflections—he still had need of Severus, regardless of what role he had played in Harry's escapade. And that meant that he would need to prevent Sirius from following through with whatever he had planned, both for his own good and for the good of the effort against Voldemort.

"Sirius, I believe you should lower your wand," Dumbledore said.

"It was him, Albus," Sirius retorted. "He is the one responsible for James and Lily's deaths. But I suppose you already knew that."

It was, Albus reflected, inevitable that Sirius would figure it out at some point. It was the one major secret he still kept from Sirius and Harry, concerned as he had been for what their reaction would have been had they learned the truth. Now Sirius knew, and Albus's fears had been justified.

But Albus would not continue to obfuscate in this matter, though he knew that whatever happened now in this office would not be the end of it. So he responded simply and concisely. "I did."

"Bloody buggering nundu droppings!" Sirius exclaimed. "You knew and you allowed this… this… thing to be close to Harry?"

"He has always been an arrow in my quiver, Sirius," Dumbledore replied. "I told you I would do anything to see Voldemort defeated. And besides—his life debt to James ensured he could not hurt Harry himself. It also forced him to protect Harry to the best of his ability."

"But it didn't prevent him from making Harry's life miserable."

Dumbledore let out a sigh. "I regret that. Had Harry told me about it earlier, I would have seen that it stopped. I should have done more to make certain it didn't happen."

"Yes you should have. But now is not the time to discuss this, though I warn you that this conversation is not closed."

As he had known that Sirius would not allow the matter to drop, Albus merely nodded, though he was aware that Sirius could not see him. He held his wand carefully, ready to intervene if Sirius decided to carry the matter further.

"I want you to know, Snivellous," Sirius finally said, "that you are the lowest worm crawling on the face of this earth, and I would like nothing more than to usher you into the next life to face Lily and James. I'm sure they have many things they'd like to say to you right about now.

"However, I'm grateful to you for giving me this little insight into your head, twisted and diseased though it is. The only reason your life is not forfeit here and now is because I believe it a greater punishment to force you to continue to live with your actions. I pray that it torments you all the miserable years of your life, and that when you move on to your next great adventure that the punishment only continues.

"If you do everything you can to fulfill your end of the bargain and do everything you can to help defeat Voldemort, and then if you resign once he is gone and never come near Harry again, I will defer your judgment until the time that you die and Lily can see to your disposition. I guarantee it will not be pleasant."

"I am compelled by my oaths," Snape replied simply. "And once this is all done, I will be quite happy to be as far away from Potter as I can contrive."

Sirius seemed to accept that and he lowered his wand. He turned to leave, but he paused, looking back at Severus.

"Snape?" he said.

When Snape looked at him, Sirius balled him his fist and hit him in the face, knocking him back against the wall. Albus was surprised—rarely did disputes in the magical world ever devolve into physical violence, as every witch and wizard generally resorted to their wand. Sirius was as incensed as Albus had ever seen him.

"For your crimes you will have to answer to Lily and James," Sirius rasped. "That was for Harry." He then turned on his heel and left the office.

Albus watched dispassionately as Severus picked himself off the floor. Blood was flowing from a cut in his cheek, and his jaw was already beginning to purple. A single moan escaped his lips, the only sound of discomfort he had made, and Albus, watching him as he tried to work his jaw, was certain that it had probably been broken by the force of Sirius's blow.

Stepping forward, Albus pointed his wand at Severus's face and muttered, "Episkey!"

Severus stifled another groan as the sensations of the spell washed over him, but he said nothing further. He worked his jaw gingerly as the bone repaired itself, before mumbling what Albus assumed was thanks in response to his assistance. Albus ignored it—the only reason he had healed Severus's jaw was so that he could obtain some answers from him.

"I warned you that your irrational hatred of Mr. Potter would come back to haunt you," Albus chided.

Severus merely favored him with a withering glare before he flicked his wand and restored one of the wooden chars, on which he sat somewhat gingerly. "I would prefer not to speak of so distasteful a subject right now, thank you."

"Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the inclination to bow to your whims, Severus," Albus replied. "I do not doubt that you already know the reason for my presence."

Grunting, Severus put a hand up to his jaw. The bone had been healed by the spell, but Albus was well aware of the fact that it would do nothing for the bruising on the skin. If what he suspected was the truth, then a sore jaw was the least of what the man deserved.

"Very well, I shall be explicit. Did you provide the means for Harry to reach Voldemort's hideout?"

"I did," was Severus's short reply.

"And may I ask why?" Albus actually found his curiosity rising again. He knew Severus hated Harry above all others, with the possible exception of Voldemort himself, but Albus was confident that Severus had not merely attempted to send Harry to his death. No, there had to be more to it than that—there were his oaths to consider, after all.

"Because, what he said made sense, from a certain point of view." Severus turned and faced Albus for the first time since Sirius had left. "Was Potter telling the truth? Does he need to die for the Dark Lord to be defeated?"

"To use your phrase, Harry was telling the truth 'from a certain point of view,'" Albus replied. "I am optimistic it will not come to that, but Harry was speaking the truth as he knew it."

The only reason he responded at all was because Harry had obviously already informed the potions master of some reasonable—though undoubtedly vague—explanation. Severus was not truly deserving of knowing any more than Harry had already told him, and Albus would not enlighten him or betray Harry's confidence.

"You said it made sense," Albus prompted when Severus fell silent.

Severus shrugged. "If killing Nagini was impossible for anyone else, then yes, it did make sense for Potter to take on the task himself if he could do it without whatever dire consequence would befall whoever else did it."

A brief pause followed, after which he continued, "You know, I almost respected Potter for his courage, though I've never in my life dreamed that I would ever say such a thing about a Gryffindor, let alone that particular Gryffindor. Whatever else he is, you cannot deny his courage. I suppose that's part of what made me help him.

"But my overriding goal, as you know, is to defeat the Dark Lord," Severus said in a matter of fact tone. "And if Potter was going to do something that facilitated that eventuality, then who was I to stop him?"

"And that's all you considered when you agreed to help him?" Albus challenged with a heap of skepticism.

"Of course not," Severus replied with a snort. "That was my main reason." An unpleasant leer came over Severus's countenance. "I will admit that the thought that Potter might die in the effort, and thus remove the stain of the Potter line from the world forever was appealing. Unfortunately, you just can't trust a dunderhead such as Potter to get anything right."

Albus glared at his potions master, but Severus met his gaze, never flinching. "I have never been more disgusted in my life than I am right now."

Severus shrugged. "You knew what I was when you bound me to your cause."

"That I did. And I regret the necessity, now more than ever. In your eagerness to hate Harry and decry anything of worth in him, I will remind you of what you seem to have forgotten; Harry is Lily's son—a woman you claimed to love. One cannot help but be reminded of that fact, every time one looks in his eyes."

This time Severus's sneer was out in full force. "Much as I am chagrinned to think that my dearest friend could ever have done what was required to produce a child with a cretin such as James Potter, I am forced to yield. However, as such, he is also Potter's son, and for that, he can never be forgiven."

Shaking his head, Albus turned away, not wishing to face the man any longer. He had tried—Merlin knew how he had tried—to get Severus to release his hatred. It had been apparent for many years that it was a lost cause, so their exchange that day was not exactly a surprise. Regardless, other than the necessity of seeing Voldemort defeated, Albus wanted nothing more to do with the bitter and twisted man.

"Once Voldemort is defeated, you can consider yourself unemployed," Albus told him as he turned away.

"And I will be happy to never be required to lay eyes on the little bastard again," Severus retorted. "If I weren't bound by these damnable oaths, I assure you that I would have left a long time ago."

"Then we are in agreement.

Turning, Albus walked away. As he reached the door, he turned and looked back at the potions master. "You look like you were run over by a hippogriff, Severus. Go and see Madam Pomfrey. I would prefer that as much of the events of this morning as possible were kept from the student body, and questions will be asked if you are seen in that state."

And with that, Albus let himself out of the room.

It was an uncomfortable day for Harry—by far the most uncomfortable he had ever before experienced. Even those years with the Dursleys had not seemed so unpleasant; with them, Harry had always known that they hated him and wished him gone. This time he was surrounded by people who loved him, and were still furious with him.

When he awoke that morning in the hospital wing, it was quickly apparent just what his status was amongst those he loved. For one, neither Hermione nor Fleur was present when he awoke, which was particularly surprising, given the fact that in the past, Hermione would have been stapled to his side until he had shown he was on the mend. Instead, he had awoken to the sight of Neville and Luna, sitting quietly by his beside, holding hands and speaking together in low voices.

"The sleeper awakens," Luna said in a wry tone of voice as Harry's eyes opened and he blinked to banish sleep from his eyes.

"Luna? Neville?" was his rather unintelligent reply.

"In the flesh," Neville said with a grin. "I'm not sure what you did last night, Harry, but the whole castle is buzzing about the continued adventures of Harry Potter."

"And Hermione and Fleur are particularly upset with you," Luna noted. "Be that as it may," she continued as Madam Pomfrey had stepped from her office, "I think the healer wishes to have a look at you. And we promised to let Fleur know when you woke up."

A little disappointed that they had stayed away, Harry replied, "Ask them if they will come here. I'd like to talk to them."

"I hardly think you could get away without it," Luna replied.

"But they couldn't be bothered to be here now," he grumbled.

"I suggest you lose the attitude before they show up," was Luna's pointed reply, to which Neville nodded in agreement.

"Hermione set up this rotation to watch you while you were out," Neville added. "She said she had some more researching to do."

"That's our Hermione," Luna said with obvious affection. "A more prominent case of glinkwortles I have never seen in my life."

Ignoring the obvious question, Harry peered at them. "Others have been here?"

The couple nodded. "Daphne and Tracey were here for a while," Luna said, "and the twins stopped by, though Hermione wouldn't trust them to sit beside you by themselves—she must have thought you would wake up with pink hair or something if you were left to their tender mercies. Ron, Susan, and Ginny, and even Lavender, the Patil twins, and some of the other club members were here for a while."

Neville snickered. "Hermione didn't want you alone. It seems she was concerned that you'd go running off if you weren't supervised."

"All right," Madam Pomfrey broke in. "I think you've all had time enough for your reunion. Go and get the rest of your friends—Mr. Potter will be ready to go by the time you return."

Nodding, Neville and Luna made their goodbyes and left the room. Madam Pomfrey turned to Harry and started waving her wand over him while clucking under her breath.

"I don't know what you did to annoy Miss Granger, but usually I have to pry her away when you're in here. Today she seemed like she couldn't wait to get away."

The next several minutes were spent in silence, with only Madam Pomfrey's low mutterings of spells and clucking over how he seemed to find himself in her company so very often for company. After she had completed her examination, she pronounced Harry fit and told him he could leave in the company of his friends when they returned. She then stepped away and returned to her office, leaving him to dress, in clothes which his friends—likely Hermione and Fleur, actually—had brought from his dorm. It was only a few moments later when the doors opened and his friends walked in.

Leading the way were the two girls he loved, and though he could see that they were undoubtedly happy that he was up and about, there was a reserve about them both which he had never seen before in Hermione, and had not seen in Fleur since their betrothal became official the previous year. They were followed into the room by Ron, Ginny, and the twins, and then by Daphne, Tracey, and Susan, and finally by Luna and Neville.

Feeling suddenly abashed, Harry ducked his head as his friends approached, not willing to meet their eyes. It had been some time since he had felt this way, the thought. It was a feeling that he did not like in the slightest.

"Well, he appears to be on his feet again," one of the twins commented.

"Fit as a fiddle, George," the other twin—presumably Fred—replied. "And none the worse for wear."

"That's probably more than he has a right to," George replied again.

To which Fred responded, "Only Harry Potter could claim to be in such good shape after such a stunt."

"But do you think we should tie him down or something?" Daphne spoke up. "At least that way we can be sure that he won't go missing."

"Nah, he's too useful," Tracey said with a snort. "Tying him down would limit what he can do. Just hit him with a tracking charm. Then maybe we could figure out a pattern so that we can better prevent it the next time."

Finally Harry could not take it any longer. He lifted his eyes and glared at his friends. "I am right here, you know."

"Hmm… So he's actually found his voice too," Ron drawled. "I thought maybe he'd lost it somewhere between here and the Dark Lord's lair."

"I wouldn't open my mouth if I were you, Ronnie," Harry snapped with a glare at his friend. "I seem to recall you being neck deep in everything I did in the past."

"I know," Ron groused. "I'm not sure about this lot," he said, jerking a thumb at the rest of the group, "but I'm more annoyed that you didn't invite me than anything else."

"All right, I think that will do it," Hermione interrupted, shooting Ron a glare. "Let's not give him any more ideas."

Ron, however, merely grinned back at her and waggled his eyebrows. No one else rose to the bait, and when Fleur spoke next, she completely ignored the byplay between the others.

"Are you well, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Harry replied. "But I'll tell you—I don't think he's ever been as pissed as he was last night."

There were a few chuckles to that statement, as well as a few blank stares. "Who?" Daphne asked.

Those in the know shared glances between themselves, but none of them spoke, clearly leaving it up to Harry as to whether he wanted to inform them. Though a part of him rebelled, he figured that at some point they would deserve an explanation, so he decided to give them an abbreviated version of the truth.

"Well, you see," he began, "it seems like I've got a connection to the Dark Dork What's-His-Face." Pointing to his forehead, he added, "It's not just a scar."

He then proceeded to explain some of the goings on over the past several years, and how his scar flared up whenever he was close to Voldemort, and he even went into a vague explanation of his horcrux problem, much as he had given to Snape a few days before.

"So that's where you went last night," Neville stated.

The others nodded, though it was obvious that Harry had not told them everything. It was equally obvious that he was not about to tell them, and that there were some things which needed to remain a secret.

"I can't believe you left to take on that snake by yourself," Daphne said. "Is it some sort of Gryffindor thing which prompts you all to risk your lives in such a manner?"

"Not all Gryffindors," Fleur muttered with a dark glance at Harry.

"Look, I thought I owed you guys a bit of an explanation," Harry spoke up. "But I'd really like to have a word with Fleur and Hermione. How about we meet you all in the Great Hall after?"

A round of smirks met Harry's request, not to mention a fair amount of ribbing.

"Ah yes, the obligatory apology," George said with an evil grin.

"I believe the appropriate term is 'grovel,'" Fred added, with an identical leer.

From there, the laughter and teasing continued for a full five minutes until Harry could convince them all to leave him and the two ladies alone. At just about any other time Harry might have enjoyed their gentle mocking. But right now it annoyed him more than anything, and he had to keep a firm control of his patience until they finally decided they had said enough and began to make their way from the room, leaving Harry alone with two young women who were regarding him without any evidence of their usual affection.

Heaving a great sigh, Harry fixed the two girls with a look of supplication. "Hermione, Fleur, I wanted to apologize to you both. I shouldn't have gone off like that and made you worry."

The two girls continued to regard him with stony expressions etched upon their faces. It was some minutes before Hermione finally deigned to answer. "Are you sorry because you made us worry, or are you just sorry you got caught?"

Harry frowned, but he supposed that their reaction was not unexpected. It was also not unfair.

"I meant what I said, Hermione. I apologized for making you worry and for putting myself into danger like that. That I got caught is irrelevant. It's not really a surprise, to be honest, though I guess I had a vague hope at the time that I might not be missed."

Fleur snorted. "Even if we hadn't gone looking for you, I'm sure that someone would have noticed you were missing at some point."

Harry nodded. "Look, both of you. I understand why you were so angry yesterday, and I spent a lot of time last night thinking about what you said." Harry lowered his eyes to the floor and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "I love both of you very much. Too much, maybe. I was—and am—willing to sacrifice anything for you both, and I guess I just focused on that too much, rather than trying to remain upbeat and find a solution."

Chancing a glance up, Harry noted the two girls were watching him, obviously trying to remain impassive. There was a tightness around Hermione's eyes which suggested a bit of disbelief, or possibly residual anger, while Fleur was watching him with a knowing air. They were clearly not about to make this easy for him.

Sighing heavily, Harry approached the two girls and knelt down on one knee. He reached out grasped one of Fleur's hands in his own, and brushed the fingers of his other hand against Hermione's cheek.

"I don't know what else I can say," Harry said. "I am sorry for worrying you and for losing faith. I love you both and I hope that you will be able to look past my faults. I do not know what I would do without either of you."

"We understand it was difficult for you," Hermione stated. "But it is still hard for us both, Harry. You essentially gave up on us. That hurts."

"I never gave up on us, Hermione. Even when I was at my lowest, I longed for a life with you both. I simply felt that it was being denied to me, and because of that, I wanted to do everything in my power to ensure you could both live on after me."

"Harry, for my part, I forgive you," Fleur broke in. Harry did not miss the slightly betrayed look that Hermione shot at Fleur, but she did not say anything. "But don't think that I'm not still mad at you."

"I'll do anything to earn your trust again."

"You'll have to change, Harry," Hermione said. "You have to go back to being the happy, grounded person you became this year, and leave behind the bitter, angry young man who is willing to take on the Dark Lord by himself. The rest of us are here to support you. Let us be part of your crusade."

"Would you have gone along with it if I'd spoken to you of it?" Harry asked.

"We went along with the Ministry escapade, didn't we?" Fleur replied. "You were completely correct about what would happen to anyone who killed Nagini. But I'm sure we could have come up with a way to deal with the snake that we all could have been a part of, rather than you trying to deal with it yourself."

Privately, Harry knew that her demands were difficult, especially if this potential solution turned out to be a red herring. But he also knew that she was correct; Harry had not really liked himself as the person she had described. He wanted to be happy, and wanted that happiness to come with the two young women in front of him. And for those reasons, he could only nod his head.

Both girls appeared to accept his vow, and soon they left the hospital wing. There were no kisses or embraces as he would have expected at any other time, but as Fleur had already told him, they had forgiven him—they had not lost their anger toward him. For the time being, he supposed it would have to be enough.

Unfortunately, the unpleasantness was not to end just yet. Lunch in the Great Hall was again difficult, as the attention of just about everyone in the hall was upon him. Harry bore it stoically, reminding himself that it was nothing he had not dealt with before. Besides, it was his own fault, he reminded himself more than once, and if there were consequences, then he should be the one to bear them.

The true unpleasantness, however, was reserved for after the lunch hour. Harry was soon called to the Headmaster's office after lunch, and he arrived, noting with a sinking feeling that both Jean-Sebastian and Sirius were waiting there for him. It seemed clear that he was about to learn of his punishment.

"Thank you for joining us, Harry," Dumbledore said when he had entered. He then turned toward Jean-Sebastian and Sirius and said, "Gentlemen, the office is yours for as long as you need it. When you are finished we will gather everyone to hear Miss Granger's idea."

Surprised, Harry watched as the Headmaster rose from his chair to make his way from the room. "What about my punishment?" he blurted.

Dumbledore turned to him, and regarded him with a slight smile. "How do we punish you, Harry?" he queried, and Harry sensed that his question was not entirely rhetorical. "I can punish you for leaving the grounds without permission, but is there a punishment in the school charter for trying to kill a Dark Lord's familiar within sight of his base of operations?"

"Personally, my vote was detention until the end of your seventh year," Sirius grumbled. "Maybe cleaning out toilets every night for the rest of your time here would keep you out of trouble."

Amused, Dumbledore shook his head. "Perhaps that would not be such a bad thought," he said. "However, I truly think that you are doing a far greater service with your club, teaching your classmates how to further defend themselves. I would prefer not to give you any punishment which would impact the role you are playing with your fellow students. So let us table this discussion, shall we?"

At Harry's uncertain nod, the Headmaster turned to the two men and nodded at them, after which he departed from the office. Harry keenly felt the hard stares of both men on him, but he gamely met them without flinching. Or at least he hoped he was not flinching.

"I will not go into great depth about our disappointment or our anger," Jean-Sebastian said after a moment's silence. "I'm sure our feelings were made very clear last night, and I'm equally certain that both Fleur and Hermione have voiced their displeasure such that there was no misunderstanding. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

For once, Jean-Sebastian did not correct him and tell him to address him by name. "Very well. Your escapade from last night has caused me to have some very great concerns, and I believe that we need to discuss them before we proceed.

"I know that you did not intend to hurt Fleur when you left last night, but ultimately your actions have done so. I understand that you have, at times, had a difficult life. I also understand that there have been times in the past where you have been required to act, though perhaps it put you into danger.

"However, this time, you have put my daughter's emotional well-being at risk with your little adventure, and that is something that I cannot ignore."

The sinking feeling he had felt when he had entered the room, progressed to the point where his stomach now felt like it was in his shoes.

"That is why we have called you in here today. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry forced out through a dryness in his mouth, which felt like he had not had a drink in months.

"I'm inclined to believe that this regression in your behavior is entirely due to the difficult news of the horcruxes, and as such, I am inclined to think it will not be repeated." His pointed look at Harry suggested there would be dire consequences if it was. "Therefore, I will not cancel the marriage contract as I had considered."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, though he was careful not to be overt about it. He was not certain how Jean-Sebastian would react and if he would consider it a cavalier treatment of Fleur's feelings yet again. The man was rather intimidating when he chose to be, and Harry was determined not to invite his displeasure again if he could avoid it.

"But I want you to understand, Harry," Jean-Sebastian continued, his expression hardening to the point where Harry fancied it had been chiseled from granite, "that I will not be so lenient should there be a repeat. Do not do this to Fleur again—I will remove her from Hogwarts and send her back to France if you do, and you will not see her again. In this, I have Sirius's full support."

Nervously, Harry's eyes darted to Sirius, who was looking on impassively, and then back to Jean-Sebastian. He reminded himself that he deserved every bit of their censure. And so he replied the only way he could.

"Yes, sir."

At that, Jean-Sebastian's expression softened somewhat and he looked at Harry with some amusement. "Now Harry. What did I tell you to call me?"

A tentative smile stole over Harry's face and he ducked his head. "Thank you, J.S. I won't fail you again."

"It's because I think so highly of you that we are having this discussion, Harry. I know that Sirius feels the same."

Sirius relaxed slightly as well at Jean-Sebastian's words. "I think you know how I feel about you, Harry," the Marauder said. "But really, let's have no more of this. I like you better as a happy teenager, than as a brooding, angry one."

"So do I, Sirius," Harry replied in a quiet voice. "So do I."

"Listen, Harry," Jean-Sebastian said, leaning forward in his chair to meet Harry's eye. "We understand the strain you've been under. Furthermore, Sirius and I both acknowledge the fact that you were completely correct in your concerns about Nagini, and what would happen to anyone who was in the area should the snake be killed.

"But we would have you understand one very important thing—you are not alone. At times in the past you may have been required to act on your own, but that is no longer the case. Please discuss these things with me, and share the burden of planning and action. I spoke to you today of my daughter's well-being, but I assure you that I'm just as concerned about you. Please do not put yourself in as much danger as you did last night—let us help you."

Harry was a little choked up at Jean-Sebastian's words, but he made it as clear as he was able that he understood and that he would consult them in the future should anything come up.

"And Harry," Sirius interjected, his look softened from what it had been since the previous night, "I know that I'm not exactly the role model for adult behavior, and some of the things I said last night could be considered to be hypocritical from a certain point of view. But you scared the life out of me last night. I promised James that I would look after his son, and though I didn't do a very good job of that initially, I'm determined to do so now. If you don't want me joining your father soon from a heart attack, please give me some warning when you're about to go pull a crazy stunt."

"I will," said Harry.

"Good." Sirius paused and glanced between Jean-Sebastian and Harry. "I've learned something new about what happened with Voldemort and your parents, and I think you need to hear it." He smiled at Harry. "But I'm sure you're impatient to hear Hermione's idea. We can talk about it later."

Harry was a little curious at Sirius's words, but he allowed them to go. Within a few moments they had exited the office, meeting Dumbledore in the hallway below. It was somewhat amusing to see the ancient Headmaster essentially loitering around the entrance to his own office, but Harry suppressed a chuckle. They agreed to meet back in fifteen minutes, after which Harry departed. Hopefully the unpleasantness was now finished to he could focus on the soul shard.

It was later that afternoon by the time they were all gathered together, though Hermione thought somewhat cynically that it likely would have been much earlier in the day had Harry not been experiencing the mandated angry censure from various people. Now, apparently, that was done, and Harry appeared to be suitably chastened.

He was sitting several seats down from her, away from his usual spot ensconced between Fleur and herself, a development which had come about the moment he had walked into the office. Most of those who were to be in attendance were already gathered—all the usual suspects had arrived, including the Weasleys, as Ginny was now directly involved. Harry had entered, clearly intending to sit in his usual spot, but it had only been an instant before he realized that Fleur and Hermione were sitting beside one another and that his place in between them did not exist. His face fell and he glanced around, clearly wondering where he should sit. It was almost enough to make Hermione relent and call him over. Almost.

"Harry, come here," Apolline had spoken up.

With a last glance at Hermione and Fleur, Harry had crossed and taken the seat next to his future mother-in-law. From there, a one-sided conversation had begun, with Apolline speaking and Harry, for the most part, listening and nodding. And at the end of it, Apolline had taken him into her arms, saying a few more brief words, and then sat back in her chair, returning her attention to the Headmaster, who was watching everything with his hawk-like gaze.

Of them all, it appeared that Apolline Delacour was perhaps the one who had been the least angry with Harry through all of this. She had stepped in to take on the role that Harry had so desperately been missing all of these years—that of a mother. She had also provided him with comfort—as she was doing now—while showing her support, regardless of how he had behaved. Hermione was not certain exactly what had happened that afternoon, but she did know that Jean-Sebastian had considered cancelling the marriage contract, and she knew that he had been called in to speak with both Jean-Sebastian and Sirius about the matter. Apolline undoubtedly knew this, but she also was clearly a firm supporter of keeping the contract intact, having, Hermione knew, a very high opinion of Harry.

It was good that Harry had someone who was firm with him, but still showed that she cared very much and gave him her unconditional support. Hermione knew that she herself was now the one who generally took up that role, but in this instance, she found herself far too angry with him to even attempt to play such a part. She loved him, but right at the moment, she did not truly like him very much. She imagined that it would not take much time before she was able to forgive him, though—he just had that effect on her.

When Dumbledore called them all to order, Hermione forced her eyes away from her oldest friend and she took a deep breath. The headmaster would want her to put forward her own idea, and she needed a clear head to do so.

"Thank you all for attending today," Dumbledore said, and the murmur of conversation ceased, as they all gave him their attention. "We all know why we are here," he continued, nodding at Hermione, "so let's get to it, shall we? Miss Granger, if you will."

Studiously avoiding Harry's gaze which she knew to be on her, Hermione focused on the Headmaster as she began to speak. "I've been doing a lot of research in the library lately, trying to find a solution for the horcrux problem, but it's become obvious that we're not going to find a solution in a book. When I was there last night, a thought struck me. It's not really the soul shard which is the problem, it's the connection back to Voldemort."

Remus leaned forward, gazing at Hermione intently. "What do you mean, Hermione?"

"You've told us of the connection the ritual forges between the horcrux creator's soul and the horcrux. Well, what if the creator could not find his way to the horcrux, because the connection was severed?"

"Cut the connection?" Remus prompted.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "It's like you walked through a forest trailing a length of string behind you so you can find your way back. If someone cuts the string and removes it, then you'll be lost. In the case of a horcrux, I would think that if you cut the connection, then it dies and the horcrux simply ceases to exist."

Sitting back in his chair, Remus's eyes became unfocused as he considered her words. Around them, bubbles of conversation were rising, as those in the room began to speak of what she had said. It was only a few moments before Remus once again turned his attention back on the room.

"I suppose the first thing you all want to know is whether that has been tried before," he said. "There were references in some of the records of methods which were attempted to try to undo the magic of the horcrux. To the best of my knowledge, I don't think that Hermione's suggestion has ever been utilized. Most others focused on trying to extract the soul shard, rather than anything else."

"The question is, is it possible?" Jean-Sebastian interjected.

"It might be," Remus said after a moment's consideration.

"As I said, a most remarkable bit of thinking outside the box," Dumbledore interjected. "I believe that it is not only possible, but I also think that it is the answer to our problem."

"But what is the connection?" Sirius asked.

"Not clearly understood," Remus said with a shrug. "At times, some have postulated that it is merely a magical connection, say like an oath bond, between two people or something of a similar nature. Others have suggested that the connection is actually the soul itself, being stretched between the soul shard in another and the original soul."

"That last I highly doubt," said Dumbledore.

Remus shrugged. "Those two were more plausible than anything else. There were truly some strange ideas recorded in the archives."

"Regardless of what it is, it should be possible to sever that connection," Dumbledore added.

"But what happens to the existing shard if the connection is severed?" Apolline asked.

Dumbledore was silent for several moments considering the question. When he finally spoke up his answer was hesitant, as it should well be, given the fact that this was something that had never before been attempted.

"I can see two possible answers. Either the soul shard would be forced out by the host soul, now that there is nothing compelling it to stay in place. The other possibility is, of course, that the soul shard will be absorbed into the host's soul."

Both Harry and Ginny blanched at the suggestion, though it was only speculation. It was unsurprising, really—who would want a portion of Voldemort's soul become a permanent part of their own soul? Still, the alternative was infinitely more horrific, and Harry soon spoke up, confirming Hermione's initial thought.

"I can't speak for Ginny, but if that's the way it has to be, then I'll take it over the alternative."

"I'm with Harry," was Ginny's fervent agreement.

"Is there any possibility that the soul shard would attempt to take over the host?" Sirius asked, looking at Harry with some trepidation.

"No," was Remus's reply. "Not only is the soul shard far too small to exert such influence, but the soul is a singular entity. The soul shard needs that connection to the original soul in order to continue to exist. I believe that the Headmaster's conjecture is correct."

"The question then, is what do we need to do to make it happen?" Jean-Sebastian asked.

"For starters, we will need the Arithmantic equation," Dumbledore spoke up. He turned back to Remus. "Will the Society allow us to see it?"

"Under normal circumstances no," Remus replied. "However, in a case such as this, I think we might be able to persuade them."

"Then I suppose a trip back to Egypt is in order," Dumbledore replied. "If you will please make the arrangements, I will begin work on designing the ritual." Dumbledore then turned to Ginny and Harry. "We need to keep this information as secret as possible of course, but I would like to involve Professor Vector. She is one of our foremost experts on Arithmancy, and will be invaluable in designing our solution."

When both Harry and Ginny nodded, Dumbledore released the assembled, allowing each to go their own separate ways. The Delacours and Weasleys said their farewells to their children, while Remus and Sirius left the office, talking quietly together. Of the students, Harry said his goodbyes to the Delacours—with an especially fierce embrace for Apolline, who kissed him on the cheek and murmured something in his ear—and then he left the room. Fleur and Hermione exchanged a glance when he left without a word to them, which left Hermione shaking her head and Fleur with a grimace.

"Do you think he's suffered enough?" Fleur asked.

"It's not about making him suffer," Hermione responded. "Don't let me hold you back from spending time with him, or whatever you would like. For myself, I believe that I had just better stay away until my anger cools a little."

Nodding, Fleur excused herself to go after Harry. "Don't leave it too long," she said over her shoulder. "I'm holding you to our agreement. I'm definitely going to need someone to help me keep him in line."

Smiling slightly at her friend's words, Hermione started off down the hallway in the company of the Weasleys. She would not let him suffer for long. But she also would not simply forget it ever happened and go on as though everything was normal. She wanted to be with him, but he had to understand the consequences of his actions.

The following morning, things got much better for Harry. For one, when he finally walked into the Great Hall—he had slept late, due in no small part to the paucity of sleep the night before—the murmurs were less than they had been the previous day, almost to the point where the amount of attention he received was no greater than he would normally receive. In addition, though Sirius in particular still regarded him with somewhat of a severe expression on his face, for the most part, his friends were prepared to put the incident in the past, and allow him to move on without constant reminders. The best part of it all, however, was that Fleur had relented.

Leaving the Headmaster's office the previous afternoon, Harry had been upset at the fact that the two girls had shut him out, and had been intent upon finding some place to think alone and try to come up with a way to make it up to them. (He had by this time decided that he would not brood, as that course would almost certainly find him even more on the outs with them.)

That had all changed as, before he had gone to the end of the hall from the office before he had heard Fleur calling him.

"Harry! Wait!"

Stifling the urge to keep on going—or even to snap at her—Harry stopped, though he refused to look at her, not wishing to see the censure he was almost certain would still be there.

Fleur jogged up and stopped in front of him. "Harry, can we go somewhere and talk?"

Glancing at her, and seeing her eyeing him earnestly, Harry nodded his head and gestured toward the stairs. Seeming to understand his intentions, Fleur grasped his hand and pulled him forward, leading the way up to the seventh floor. A few moments later they were ensconced in the Room of Requirement in a small, yet homey sort of room.

Fleur led him to a small couch the room had provided for them, and sat him down, keeping hold of his hand, caressing it with her thumb. It was incredibly soothing, Harry decided, and though she did not say anything, her actions were enough to let Harry know that he had been forgiven.

She continued to her ministrations for several minutes, lulling Harry into an almost dream-like state, as he concentrated on the sensations she was causing along the skin of his hands.

This continued until suddenly, Fleur released his hand, and in one fluid motion, she slid her hips toward him and without warning, threw her arms about his neck and began kissing him with abandon.

Shocked as he was by her sudden and unexpected actions, Harry froze and almost forgot to respond to her. This, of course, was a situation which could not continue long, as her kisses were so pleasurable that soon Harry was soon responding with every ounce of passion he possessed. Soon, he was leading their amorous activities, plundering her mouth, tasting of its sweetness, while interspersing his attentions down her jaw, the spot behind her ear which he had found she particularly enjoyed, and all across her face. In the midst of their kissing, Fleur was giving him the same treatment, and was almost purring as a cat.

Though he would never remember after how they had managed it, when he was able to pay attention to any extraneous details, he found that they were lying across the couch with Harry lying on his side, leaning heavily on the lithe body of his betrothed. His hands were caressing her back, her sides, her stomach, and though they had not wandered into any as of yet undiscovered territory, he felt that it had been a near thing. Now was not the time to get into such activities, not after a traumatic experience for them both, one which had threatened their very relationship.

Groaning, Harry rolled over onto his back, and Fleur immediately shifted with him, now laying on her side, draped over his chest. With her free hand she reached down to cup his cheek and pull his head up for a kiss, this one much more chaste than the last. She then rested her head on his chest pulled herself as close to him as she could manage.

"I assume that groan was not due to regret?" she teased him.

"Hell no," Harry responded immediately. "I just don't want to… you know… go too far or something."

"Don't worry, Harry. If we start going too far, I'll let you know."

"I suppose you would at that," Harry replied, chuckling and hugging her closer to him, if that was even possible.

A few moments later, Fleur spoke again. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Startled, Harry pulled away and looked in her eyes, seeing at once that she was brimming with compassion and understanding.

"I don't think you really have anything to apologize for," he replied.

"I do," Fleur stated emphatically. "What Hermione and I did to you in the office was unkind and uncalled for."

Harry squeezed her gently. "I understand. Truly, I do."

"Understand or not, we shouldn't have done it. Whatever mistake you had made, and whatever mistakes you will make in the future, I want you to know that I will always love you."

"As I love you." Then Harry grinned mischievously. "In fact, it will be easier to love you always, as I'm sure you're far too perfect to ever make mistakes."

Fleur slapped his shoulder lightly. "Don't do that, Harry. I'm just as imperfect as anyone else."

"Not in my eyes," Harry replied.

They lay on the couch for some time, talking quietly. And while their conversation was generally light and teasing, they did wander into heavier topics on occasion, most notably, the news reports of Voldemort's attacks, and their plans for future club meetings. All reference to Harry's adventures from the night before was a subject which was strictly avoided, as was any conversation about the possible repercussions. It was good, he decided. He was back into the good graces of at least one of his girls.

Thus was his relationship with Fleur restored. And little did Harry know it at the time, but the incident also set the precedent for how his disputes with his wives would proceed in future years. Fleur, though certainly no pushover, was generally the one whose anger disappeared quickly, allowing for a reconciliation which generally followed closely on the heels of their disputes. Hermione, on the other hand, was the one whose anger generally burned itself out slowly. Harry quickly learned that a reconciliation would be achieved much more quickly if he left her strictly alone and allowed her to work her way through her anger at her own pace.

Now that was not to say Hermione was unkind or unfeeling, but she was a little distant, preferring to keep to herself and only interact with him on a reserved level. Harry did not begrudge her any iota of her anger, so he attempted to treat her with kindness, while respecting her need for privacy. He hoped that she would soon relent, but knew that he had to allow her the time to do so.

Unfortunately, though much of the previous day's damage was quickly repaired, Harry found himself once again sorrowful over Voldemort's actions, and determined to see the man fall.

It was late afternoon and he was with both girls, preparing for the evening's club meeting, when Fawkes suddenly appeared over his head and dropped him a piece of parchment, before flaming out again. Curious, Harry opened the parchment, reading a short note from the Headmaster, asking him if he could come to the office immediately.

Fleur, reading over his shoulder, offered to come with him, but he brushed her off.

"I'm not sure what he wants, but it's all right," Harry replied, while getting to his feet. "You go ahead and continue preparing for tonight. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Though Fleur appeared like she would prefer to accompany him—he had noted that she had been very clingy since their reconciliation—she nodded and sat down to finalize their planning. Hermione, who was sitting on Fleur's other side, glanced up at him and gave him a wan smile, before directing her gaze down again to assist Fleur with the planning.

Striding from the common room, Harry quickly made his way to the Headmaster's office, noting that the gargoyle must have been told to expect him, as it stood to the side of the stairs. A moment later, he was sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk, wondering why the man had summoned him.

"Harry," the Headmaster began once the obligatory offer of lemon drops had been made, "I called you here to inform you of something which affects you directly, though you probably don't know it now. I was just informed of another attack which Voldemort's forces carried out only hours ago. I regret to inform you that the village of Godric's Hollow in the West Country was attacked and razed to the ground."

"Godric's Hollow?" Harry gasped. "Where my parents…"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Dumbledore confirmed. "It is where Voldemort attacked you as a child and killed your parents. You may not know it, but Godric's Hollow was a village which had a high concentration of magical families."

"How did it happen?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It appears as though the Dementors have made their first appearance of this war. They were sent in first, and once they had the townspeople in panic, Voldemort dispatched a force of Death Eaters who finished the job. It was all over very quickly, as I understand."

"Damn!" Harry mumbled morosely. "Were there any survivors?"

"The Aurors are looking now, but it is known that at least some of the magical population was able to flee by the use of portkeys. You have to understand that it was a very small village, Harry. Probably less than one hundred souls altogether. In general, our people have been better prepared in this war, and I think that most of those in our world have portkeys available for escape. Not all did, but I believe most were able to leave."

"What of the Muggles?"

With a sigh, Dumbledore said, "Unfortunately, they would have had no defense, nor means available to flee.

"Harry, in addition to razing the village, including the cottage in which your parents lived, Voldemort did something much viler. He destroyed the statue of you and your parents which stood there, and he also desecrated their graves."

Tears began flowing down Harry's cheeks. "He did it because I killed his snake, didn't he?"

"I cannot say with any certainty, but I expect that this was his response. He cannot have any idea that you were the one to kill Nagini—you have not had any attacks though your link to him, have you?"

When Harry shook his head, Dumbledore continued. "In that case, I doubt this is specifically in revenge for Nagini's death. At least not pointed at you."

"But I provoked him," Harry insisted. "All those people died because of me."

Dumbledore regarded him for several moments before he spoke, his voice kind yet firm. "Harry, you may have provoked greater savagery from him, but I doubt that you caused those deaths. In fact, I have no doubt he was planning it all along. It seems like the attack was designed to be an insult and a gauntlet toward both you and me."

Harry looked up, peering at the Headmaster in surprise. "You, sir?"

Nodding, Dumbledore said, "It is not well known, but my family lived in Godric's Hollow for some time in my youth."

"I didn't know that, sir."

"Most don't."

Sitting in silence, Harry considered the matter. It was likely, as Dumbledore had said, that Voldemort had been planning to attack the village regardless. However, Harry was certain that the attack had almost certainly been much more violent than it would have been had he not gone after the snake. Thus, it was at least partially his fault that some of those people were dead. Regret would not bring them back.

"Harry, I understand what you are feeling," Dumbledore interjected, interrupting his thoughts. "I too have had occasion to regret my actions, knowing that they had led to unintended consequences.

"You see, Harry, when I lived in Godric's Hollow, I was yet a young man. I had two siblings—a younger brother and a younger sister. My younger brother—Aberforth—attended Hogwarts at the time. Unfortunately, my sister did not."

"She was not magical?" Harry asked.

"Oh, she was magical," Dumbledore responded. "But she could not control her magic. When she was six years of age, some Muggle boys had seen her practicing magic, and they attacked her, beating her severely. That incident traumatized her, and she lost all control of her magic. That is why she could not be sent to Hogwarts—she would have been a danger to everyone there, and had her condition become known, she would have been sent to St. Mungo's.

"When she was fourteen, she lost control of her magic one day, and the resulting explosion killed my mother. I was due to leave for the continent on a tour, and was called home to care for her. I wanted Aberforth to complete his education, you see, and could not ask him to forego his schooling so that I could enjoy myself."

Fascinated, Harry listened to the Headmaster's story—which he strongly believed was turning almost into a confession. He had never heard this before and suspected that it was not well-known at all. It was a glimpse into Dumbledore's psyche, a tale of events which had formed the man who had become the most famous wizard of their time. Harry found himself enthralled in the tale.

"About this time, a young man about my age had come to live with a great aunt who lived in the village. You may have heard of him—his name was Gellert Grindelwald."

"The Dark Lord?" Harry asked, astonished.

"The very same."

His mind reeling, Harry gazed back at the ancient wizard, who chuckled and continued to speak.

"Yes, I knew Gellert when he was a youth. In fact, we became friends—close friends. We had much in common, you see. Gellert was intelligent and charismatic, and he was powerful and ambitious." Dumbledore paused and let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "I like to think that I had some measure of those qualities myself."

Harry did not reply—there was nothing to say, after all. Dumbledore's life and the things he had accomplished spoke to the fact that he possessed those qualities in spades.

"I do not wish this to become a long history," Dumbledore continued, "so I shall keep it as brief as I can. Gellert had ideas about how the world should be run, and as you probably expected, they revolved largely around the idea of wizard dominance over Muggles, much as overlords ruling over the populace, supposedly for their own good.

"In my arrogance, my disappointment over the loss of my mother and what I perceived to be the loss of my dreams, and in no small part due to the tragedy which befell my sister, I found myself caught up in Gellert's dogma. We began plotting how we could achieve this objective."

Shocked, Harry stared at the Headmaster. "But surely—"

Dumbledore cut him off. "No, Harry. I do not espouse such beliefs. Looking back now, I know that I never truly believed them in the first place. I was naively caught up in his grandiose plans fueled in part by my bitterness. I was taken in by Gellert's words, but in part I fooled myself into thinking that the glimpses I caught of his fanaticism were not as bad as I thought, and that we cold truly make the world a better place if we established an order which would see to the needs of all. I paid a horrible price for my actions."

Sitting back in his chair, the Headmaster's eyes became unfocused, and Harry was certain that he was once again seeing the events of all those years before. Harry was not sure what to make of the revelations—he knew that Dumbledore meant to connect them into his own situation, but it was almost too much for Harry to assimilate. That he had been friends with one of the two most powerful dark wizards of the past century was surprising—that he had actually plotted with this wizard to take over the Muggle world was positively astounding.

"What happened next was beyond my fathoming at the time," Dumbledore finally continued, "though I have thought about it extensively over the years. You see, my brother, Aberforth, came home from Hogwarts. He took one look at the situation, and immediately took me to task for neglecting our sister. He then told me most emphatically that I would never be able to carry out my plans with Gellert, as I would have to take Ariana with me. She could never handle the strain of such travels and activities.

"Unfortunately, Gellert was near enough to interfere, and he sneered at my brother, telling Aberforth that he was obviously too simple-minded to understand the greatness of what we were to accomplish. He then said that the life of one damaged little girl was nothing compared to what we would do for the world.

"As I watched him speak, and witnessed the wild and almost crazed fire in his eyes, I was forced to acknowledge what I had always known. The man who had become my closest friend and confidante was not planning this for anyone's benefit but his own. Even I, his closest friend, was nothing more than a tool for him to use in his quest for domination."

Dumbledore sighed and passed a shaking hand over his eyes; clearly this recitation was costing him a lot more than Harry could know. For a moment, he thought to interrupt and tell him that he did not need to finish his story. But Harry found he had a burning desire to know. This history was a fascinating insight into the Headmaster. Harry would listen if Dumbledore wished to speak.

"A duel broke out between the three of us. As you can probably imagine, my brother was younger and not as knowledgeable as either Gellert or myself, and I spent part of my time protecting him, while the rest was spent trying to strike down my, now former, friend. And Gellert was very… powerful…"

A shake of his head, and Dumbledore continued. "But then disaster struck. My sister, who had seen us begin to fight, rushed out of the house and tried to intervene. Of course, she had no control over her magic, not that her efforts would have had any effect in any case. She was a struck down by a stray curse and she died."

By now, tears were rolling down the Headmaster's cheeks, and Harry, moved as he was, felt nothing but compassion for what he had suffered. True, his actions had at least partially brought about what had happened, but it had also been a set of circumstances, which no one—not even one as powerful as Dumbledore—could have predicted.

"Gellert fled immediately, and I did not see him again until we met at wand-point many years later. My brother and I buried our sister next to her mother, and my brother returned to school, blaming me for what had happened. I cannot in truth say he was incorrect."

"But sir, you couldn't have known what would happen," Harry protested.

"No, Harry, I dare say I could not have. However, I was intelligent, and I had my principles, which did not in any way agree with Gellert's view of the world. And yet I allowed myself to be persuaded to act and plan against those principles. I could not have foreseen the consequences, but I surely knew that what I was doing was wrong.

"I never could determine whose curse it was that killed my sister," he said in a musing tone while stroking his beard. "On a few rare occasions I have summoned the courage to view the memory in my pensieve, but as the duel was chaotic, I could never quite see whose wand cast the spell. I suppose it does not truly matter—all three of us had some hand in her death. Only two of us mourned her passing."

Dumbledore then turned from his musing and rested his arms on his desk, looking Harry in the eye. "The reason I am telling you about this, Harry, is because of what you have experienced in the past few days, coupled with Voldemort's brutal attack on Godric's Hollow. It is almost certain that Voldemort was planning the attack already, but we can never be sure how the killing of Nagini affected his actions.

"But what you must know and understand is that everything we do has consequences, and yes, the consequences are sometimes ones we did not intend, and could not have predicted. And above all, you must understand that sometimes those consequences come back to haunt us.

"What you feel right now will never truly leave you. But you must learn to live with it, and you must become wiser because of it. What do we become if we do not learn from our mistakes?"

Harry returned Dumbledore's gaze evenly, finally understanding the thrust of his disclosure. "We become like Voldemort."

"Exactly."

No further words were spoken, and after a few moments, Harry, understanding that Dumbledore required solitude as much as Harry did himself, quietly let himself out of the office. A glance at his watch told him that he still had half an hour before the start of their club meeting, and though it was not nearly enough time to truly come to terms with what he had learned, still he would use the time to sort through as much as he could. Then he would throw himself into the doings of the club. There was still a Dark Lord to defeat, after all.

Updated 07/03/2014