The Prince-Who-Lived

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning was busy, however, and Harry was spending time in Herbology with the others before heading to Care of Magical Creatures, at which most of his friends were, whether he could really speak with all of them or not. Neville had opted out for lack of interest. However, Harry had to hide his amusement and pleasure when Ron had bemoaned their still attending Hagrid's classes with the Slytherins. After a year of work, it was much easier than he'd previously found it. Alan was a good teacher. He was also very good with arguments, which made Harry eager to speak to him sooner rather than later.

Arriving at Hagrid's hut after having a class full of squeezing the pulsing blisters of bubotubers, looking down into the crates full of 'Blast-Ended Skrewts' was not as disturbing as it might have otherwise been, but it didn't make his nervousness any less. Hermione summed up the rather easy question on all their minds,

"What are they, Professor Hagrid?"

"Creatures." He beamed. Harry got a rather horrible feeling that he'd bred them rather illegally. It seemed the sort of thing he'd do. "Jus' hatched, so yeh can raise 'em yourselves."

"Why would we want to raise them?" Drawled a cold voice.

Harry turned slowly to look over the on-coming Slytherins and found himself looking right at Draco Malfoy, flanked as always by his goons. Behind him, Harry found himself looking at Alan who looked about as thrilled as Draco did for the upcoming class. This only made Harry's current mood worse, and he turned back to listen to the assignment intently. Feeding them was definitely an adventure, but Harry set to it with a will. About the time Draco complained about them being capable of burning, stinging, and biting, Harry turned and snapped,

"Well, they'd certainly be able to make someone shut up fast, wouldn't they? Just because you're scared doesn't mean you have to gripe about it and make yourself look bad."

Draco paled rapidly and Harry sneered before turning back to his own crate and tossing some frog liver in with more force than strictly necessary. When class ended, Harry stood and left before any of the others, leaving them behind. He grabbed a bun and layered a sandwich before leaving the hall just as the others entered. Neville pulled away and grabbed his shoulder to stop him, levering him farther from the door.

"What's into you, Harry? You're completely out-of-sorts and I can't think why."

"It's nothing, Neville. It doesn't have to do with you."

"Well then what is it?" Neville snapped. Harry opened his mouth to give him a nothing answer and Neville strengthened his grip, seemingly unaware that he was almost pulling Harry's feet from the ground. "Don't give me a nothing answer, Harry, I won't buy it."

Harry squelched his anger that Neville was already taller than him; the only person with them that wasn't was Hermione and Ginny, and they weren't done growing. He was almost dead sure he was, and thus Neville had a distinctive advantage. He remained silent, since he refused to lie to Neville or take his anger out on someone who was like a brother. Neville watched his face and let him go.

"You're getting secretive, Harry. It's not … it doesn't seem right but I'm not actually surprised." He glanced aside and huffed. "I'll make your excuses, but please don't keep this up with me." He gave him a wry smile and left before Harry could say anything more. As he walked into the Great Hall, Harry caught sight of Alan slipping in there as well and their eyes met for a short moment. Alan lifted his chin minutely and Harry turned into the corridors of the school, walking slowly and eating as he went. He made his way to his final destination and sat himself in a far corner in the library, propping up his feet and pulling out his Arithmancy text, thumbing through it as he waited. It wasn't ten more minutes until another person came into the back area, and Harry waited before looking up. His eyes met the black ones of Alan and he fought back his irritation to smile crookedly at him.

"Hey Alan."

"Harry." Alan tipped his head. "You're annoyed." He observed curtly, leaning back in his seat and fiddling with his wand. "Why?"

"On the train. You were brutal to Draco. What had he been doing to my sister? She seemed fine." Harry trailed onto his sister, distracting from his main point. Alan glanced aside.

"He'd just cornered her and started in on blood supremacy and how she was less than him and was required to move out of his way. She was standing up to him like he didn't even cast a shadow on her, returning that real gentlemen stepped aside for ladies. I just stepped in and told him off, and then tailed him back to his compartment to settle an earlier dispute of ours. Nothing that concerns you." He spoke with finality Harry ignored.

"You were really harsh, Alan. That was really low."

"His own words were low, Harry, and I'm not sharing. Just trust that he earned it several times. It doesn't concern you." He repeated. Alan hesitated, and then ducked his head. "I was rather mean, but the issue bothered me."

"It had nothing to do with my sister, did it?"

Alan paused. "No, it didn't."

Harry watched him and said nothing, merely turning back to his text and looking over the content in silence. It was only a few more moments before Alan go his own work out and the silence relaxed into comfort. Harry waited a few minutes before asking an idler question.

"What happened after Crouch jumped on you and Andrew?"

"Nothing much." Alan returned, but a smile worked into his voice. "My godfather ripped into Geoffrey, and so did my aunt. Merlin, Mary and Morgan, that woman can be scary." He hitched his voice up several tones to mimic his aunt, "'Once again, you show your absolute care in setting a good example for our children, Jeff.' She started." Alan snickered, "and of course, Geoffrey just turned around with his nonchalance, 'Damn straight I am. They're not going to put up with any of that bloody nonsense about muggle baiting.'"

Harry laughed. "And lemme guess, she just snapped right back?"

Alan grinned, raising his voice again, "'And that is also why you're letting your mouth run so filthily in front of them, and why you posed for the paper by flipping them off and brandishing your gun with your tongue stuck out. Oh, now I see your plans.'"

Harry doubled over laughing. "She didn't!"

"She did." Alan laughed. "Oh, she did. He couldn't think of any response for quite a bit after that. Andrew just about knocked over a side-table when he collapsed on the couch, he was laughing so hard. She really wasn't pleased, despite the fact that she had been there, wielding a gun herself."

"You said she's almost as good as Geoffrey?" Harry checked. Alan nodded slowly. "And Andrew …" Harry felt a slight pinch and Alan shook his head slowly.

"Andrew is my brother. I grew up with him in the same house. You're my confidant."

The casual way Alan said it comforted Harry and he just nodded carefully and turned back to his book to hide his pleased smile.

IIII

That evening, while they were leaving the Great Hall after the meal, Harry was just stepping out, followed by an attentive Neville and the others. They had wandered into the Entrance Hall when Harry paused as he saw Draco and Alan face each other with dark expressions. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but their expressions spoke more than words. Both were fingering their wands, and the rest of the Slytherins in their year stood by silently arrayed more towards which person they supported. Harry took a moment to read it, and was surprised by what he saw. Behind Malfoy were more students, strictly pureblood and all proud. Several had remained unallied, but most were watching Alan with care. Behind him stood only a few students. Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini and another Harry didn't recognize. Their families were more widespread, and although they held little ministry power, they had connections that Harry strongly suspected went into America. He would bet that if it came to a head, Alan had the more valuable people.

However, at the moment, people didn't matter. A twist of Alan's pose, and Draco's face flushed before Alan turned and stalked towards the dungeons, Blaise at his back and to his left. Draco, still wearing a dark expression, turned and threw a spell at Alan's back. A shield flared and crackled, and Alan spun in time to see Draco flinch from a spell shot from the far side. Draco yelped, and then there was a loud bang. In Draco's place was a white ferret, and Moody was stalking down the steps, his wand trained on the Slytherin's.

"There ain't an ounce of honour between any of ye, is there?" Moody growled. Harry moved forward, surrounded by his friends in order to hear the conversation. Alan stood stiffly by the path to the dungeons, not responding to Moody's words. Moody grinned darkly and then turned quickly back to Crabbe and Goyle. "Don't touch it!"

Harry looked down and nearly bit through his lip as he saw that Moody had apparently turned Draco into a pure white ferret. It was harsh, but at Moody's shout, the ferret took off for the dungeon entrance.

"No you don't, laddie." Moody growled, and aimed his wand. Draco lifted ten feet into the air and smacked into the ground with a sharp smack. Harry saw Alan flinch, and felt ill himself. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back is turned." Draco smacked into the ground again, and Harry saw Neville's eyes flash. Ron looked excited, and Harry forced himself to look away. "Stupid, cowardly, scummy thing to do." Draco smacked into the ground once more, and then, with another, muffled bang, changed back into Draco Malfoy, looking dazed and seated on the floor. Moody thumped forward to look into his eyes, each step punctuating his speech. "Never – do – that – again."

Draco winced and nodded painfully. Moody gave him a dark leer and grinned. "Let's have a little chat with your Head of House, now, why don't we?"

Harry heard Draco mutter something that had 'my father' audible in it. That seemed to snap Alan out of his pose and he stepped back to allow Moody to clump by. His face remained almost painfully impassive, and he waited a long time after Moody was gone to move into the dungeon. Harry was dragged off by Neville before Alan moved forward, and reluctantly he followed. Ron closed his eyes blissfully as they continued walking, murmuring to himself. Neville snapped at him.

"That's a sick thing to do to someone, Ron, and you're sick to have enjoyed it. That could seriously damage someone; human-to-animal transfiguration is devilishly hard, and had he done something wrong or hit him too hard Moody would've gotten into a shitload of trouble."

Ron snapped out of it and glared at Neville. "Malfoy's father is a Death Eater!"

"So are we all only carbon copies of our parents now?" Neville snapped back. Harry felt his anger and, glaring at Ron, grabbed Neville's shoulder to drag him upstairs before Ron could continue the fight. He didn't look back. Once they were in the dorms with the door pulled shut, Harry let go of Neville and dropped onto his bed. Neville silently watched him before turning back to his bag and fishing out his homework. They were silent for several minutes before Harry spoke.

"When do we have Defence?"

There was a faint rustle of paper. "Thursday." Neville curtly answered. Silence reigned again, but Neville was the one to break it. "He's only hostile to Slytherin's and Death Eaters."

"Draco isn't yet his father." Harry returned quietly.

"Does he want to be anyone else?"

Harry couldn't respond to Neville's return for a long time. When he did, he didn't even know if Neville heard it. He certainly didn't respond.

"Does he have any choice?"

IIII

Come Thursday, however, Neville and Harry had regained some enthusiasm of having a fully competent teacher in Defence against the Dark Arts. No matter Moody's prejudice, he was an auror, and one well respected by those who had fought beside him. Moody clumped darkly in, and then called roll, his magical eye watching those who responded. When he went over Harry and Neville's names, he turned and nodded slowly to both of them. Neville smiled slightly at the recognition; Harry could only remember the tight expressions on both Snape and Alan during Potions earlier that week. Neither seemed to like Moody in the least, and Harry suspected he knew why – and he didn't like it. Moody didn't seem to take his reticence amiss, and continued through the class. Once everyone had been called on, and the books were away, Moody looked over all of them.

"You've got a thorough grounding in Dark Creatures; you're last teacher left me a summary of it. Good man, Mr. Lupin, and a pity he can't teach again. However, you're behind, very behind, on Dark Curses and the like. There are many things wizards can do to each other and not all of them are pleasant. I'm here for the year to bring you up to scratch."

"The year? Only?" Ron blurted out.

Moody looked at Ron a long moment and then smiled grimly. The effect contorted his face rather grotesquely. "Yeah, only a year. Then it's back to retirement. But as I was saying, I need to bring you up on what we as people have in our ability to do to each other. Magic isn't all fun and games.

"So we have curses. According to the ministry, you're supposed to see counter-curses and leave it at that for this year, but me and Dumbledore have a higher opinion of your nerves than that. I think many of you can face what a real Dark Curse looks like, and Dumbledore agrees. You need to know. A dark wizard won't tell you what he's using, and he won't be nice and polite about it. If he's got it in his head to curse you, he'll do it from behind, from the dark, without warning and he'll use the worst of his repertoire to bring you down before you can make him face you like a man. You can't fight what you don't know. You have to be ready for it, and you need to put that away, Ms. Brown, when I'm talking to you."

Lavender squeaked, shuffling her papers beneath her desk. She'd been showing Parvati something and moved it quickly aside. Moody watched her for a long moment and then returned to addressing the class, his magical eye staring her direction still.

"Would anyone know the curses most heavily punished by magical law?"

Several people tentatively raised their hands, including Harry and all his friends. Neville did so reluctantly. Moody looked them over and pointed first to Ron. The hands went down just as slowly, and Ron stammered.

"Er, my dad told me about one … the Imperius curse, or something?"

"Your dad would know." Moody nodded grimly. "That curse gave the ministry one hell of a time during the war, so he would know." Moody got heavily to his feet, stalked to his desk and pulled open the drawer, bringing out a large glass jar containing three black spiders. Ron twitched beside Harry; he hated spiders.

Moody fished one out and held it in his hand, before raising his wand with a look of utmost distaste and aimed it at the spider, murmuring 'Imperio.'

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a thin filament and swung down to the desk. Once there it raised itself onto only four legs, and, with the others pinned tightly above it's head, it began to march across the desk firmly in a completely straight line. Several students tittered, and Moody's face cracked into a grim smile. The spider threw itself into cartwheels and the students began to laugh. Everyone, that is, save Harry and Neville, although Harry felt a smile fight to find it's way onto his face, if only to ignore the reality of what that spell meant.

"Think it's funny?" Moody growled. Suddenly, the spider stopped cartwheeling and laid itself flat on the desk, all it's legs spread wide around it. "Think about it. What if that were you?" The laughter died instantly. "Total control. The wielder of the spell can make you do whatever they want. You could kill your family; your friends … talk riddles and speak secrets, kill, maim, torture.

"When the war was on, there were many under the Imperius. It was a hell of a job working out who was under someone's control, and who was acting as they wanted. It is a curse that can be fought, but it takes a rare talent and firm grasp on yourself. We'll cover it sometime, but for all of you, the best course is to avoid being hit with it. Constant Vigilance!" Moody barked; the class jumped, and Neville gasped lightly. He covered his chest and closed his eyes slightly. Harry couldn't think why this would be affecting Neville so.

Moody picked the prone spider off the desk and tossed it back into the jar. "So? What's the next curse?"

Several hands went up once more, hesitantly and with more thought. Harry raised his own and Moody pointed to him with a faint nod. Harry paused as he lowered his hand.

"The Cruciatus." Harry said with finality.

Moody nodded tersely. "The Cruciatus." He reached into the jar and pulled out another spider, placing it on the desk and glaring at it for a moment. He muttered something unintelligible, and then waved his wand. The spider grew in size, until it was larger than a tarantula. Ron jerked his chair backwards and gripped its sides, his eyes staring in fright. Harry was staring for a far different reason, but half his attention was on Neville, who had stiffened.

Moody raised his wand with another disgusted look and muttered, "Crucio."

Harry flinched as the curse hit, and watched with terrified fascination as the spider curled in upon itself and began to rock violently from side to side. Harry could only imagine the terrified screams that would have come had the spider possessed the ability for sound. The rocking became spasmodic and Moody ended the curse, spitting onto the ground before rapidly shrinking the spider and returning it idly to the jar.

Harry glanced at Neville, and forced himself not to react. Neville was pale and deathly still, not reacting, as though he could still see the spider jerking about. Harry couldn't imagine why he was affected like this, but he carefully grabbed Neville's hand. Neville flinched quickly, and then glanced fearfully at Harry. Apparently satisfied that it was Harry there, he relaxed ever so carefully and closed his eyes for a long moment.

Moody began speaking again. "Cruciatus is pain. You need nothing more than your wand to bring a man to his knees. It was very popular as well; more so than the Imperius. Does anyone know others?"

Hermione raised her hand, but Harry didn't, preferring to keep his grip with Neville who seemed to have resigned himself to the subject matter but didn't let go of Harry's hand. A glance around proved that no one else had raised theirs. Moody indicated that Hermione should speak, and she reluctantly did so.

"Avada Kedavra." She whispered. Harry refused to join the rest of the class in looking at her, instead focusing on his desk. With parents who had been aurors, and in the thick of the fighting, he already knew all of these. Apparently Neville knew them better than he'd ever said, because his grip on Harry's hand tightened even more.

Moody also appeared grim about the last. "The killing curse." He nodded slowly. "The last and worst of the three Unforgiveables." He reached slowly into the jar and pulled out the last spider. He held it as he turned his eyes to everyone in the room. "The killing curse takes a lot of power and intent. Not everyone can use it; no one ever should. I hate the spell myself, and I'll never use it on another human being, even when the ministry gave its permission to aurors. It's a despicable spell."

He placed the spider down and it scuttled across the desk. Moody raised his wand, and spoke, not quite shouting, "Avada Kedavra!" A brilliant green light shot across the space with a rushing sound, like a giant bird, and the spider fell without a mark or flutter, unmistakeably dead. Harry swallowed painfully; Ron threw himself out of his seat and several girls gasped quietly.

Moody picked up the dead spider carefully and looked darkly across the class. "It's the worst spell you could use on another person. Disgusting and cowardly. It's undeniably powerful: there's no counter-curse, no blocking it. It's death, pure and simple. No one has ever survived it when cast correctly. But the casting is tricky. It's a strong curse," he repeated with emphasis, "requiring power and intent. You could all aim your wands and say the words right now and not give me so much as a nosebleed. But you won't be using this curse on nobody, and you won't learn it in my class.

"I'm here to teach you to defend yourself, but you have to want this and you have to listen. You have to know. Constant Vigilance." The class jumped again; Neville's grip on Harry's hand tightened before he released it. "You need to see what you're up against, and you need to be prepared. These three curses are all the Unforgiveables. Using them on another human being holds a life sentence in Azkaban. That is what you are fighting out there. Get out your quills … copy this …"

The rest of class was note taking. Harry wrote silently, with the rest of the class, and when the bell rang they walked carefully out. Harry watched Neville maintain his tight-lipped silence, and followed closely to him. Outside the classroom, chatter about the curses abounded as everyone began to talk their worry away. Harry hadn't found it amusing at all, and neither had Neville. Hermione watched them both with a firm focus, but Ron seemed oblivious for the moment. Wanting privacy, and needing to talk to Neville alone, Harry grabbed his shoulder and shook his head shortly at Hermione before leading Neville down the stairs, skipping past others with ease. Neville followed blankly. Finding the kitchens was easy, and he quickly asked for a small meal for himself. They brought more than enough for both of them, and Neville gave Harry a strained smile before settling to eat once more. Having the Marauders raise them had given them a good understanding of what they could pull off at school. Neville slowly relaxed, and he brought up the topic himself as he began to polish off the last of his plate.

"My parents don't talk about the war too much in regards to themselves. They'll talk about the Order, and the lives they saved, and the fighting in general, but what happened to them, personally, never really crosses their tongues."

Harry listened intently, nodding slowly. "My parents are much the same, and Sirius and Remus."

Neville shrugged. "I've got some memories, you know? Vague recollections from being a small child. I shouldn't, really, but because … I can hear screaming. It's etched into my mind. It came out not too long ago, actually, when I was about ten and my parents were testifying about in the court. I don't even remember why I was there. They didn't get me out before the Dementors passed by; they were furious with Fudge after. But it didn't make me forget that when they went by, my mother screamed both in reality and in my memory." Neville pulled his legs to his chest and looked aside with blank eyes. "I got it out of them last summer. Did you know Death Eaters came to our house shortly into November the last year of the war? They were looking for their Master. They tortured my parents. I must have been hidden, or in another room. I remember hearing them scream, but nothing else. They barely told me that. Your parents came by and saved them before it got too far, but," Neville gave a crooked grin, "you never forget that sort of thing. Apparently I wasn't too young to be able to forget it either. It was just disturbing to see a curse that I know scared my parents."

Harry watched Neville carefully. His colour was returning, and he was rocking slowly, his knees drawn up to his chest, but his eyes were clearer and his face several times more alive. Harry couldn't' stop a chuckle as he noticed he was avoiding thinking about what Neville had just said. Harry stood awkwardly and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I need to know." Neville whispered. "I won't be defeated by a memory, Harry."

Harry's mouth quirked. "No, I suppose not. But still." Harry nodded shortly to the house elves and paused by the door. Awkwardly, he pulled Neville against his side and hugged him with one arm. "I'm here."

Neville chuckled. "You wouldn't leave if I pried you off, Potter."

"No," Harry chuckled in return and gave him a roguish grin, "I suppose not. If it were me in your place, you wouldn't be pried off either."

Neville jerked his head up with a smile, completely agreeing before leading the way out.

IIII

Back in the Common room, there wasn't much to do but Harry sat by the fire anyways and listened to Ron whinge about the difficulty of Divination as he worked on making out a long star chart. Harry rolled his eyes with each complaint, but took it as it came. Finally, however, with Harry there for commentary and ideas, he made up the whole lot and went upstairs. Hermione put down her books slowly and shortly requested that Harry stay behind. Harry did so; Neville was either asleep upstairs, or reading with his curtains closed and he should be fine now. Ron would likely go to sleep immediately anyways, so staying up a little longer wouldn't be amiss. And he thought he could guess what Hermione would bring up.

"Harry, what is this with house elves? I couldn't find many books on them in the library, so I don't understand."

He'd been right. Harry ran his fingers slowly through his hair and waved Hermione into the seat next to him. The Common room was all but empty and he leaned over to talk to her quietly.

"Hermione, house elves are a race of their own, with their own magic and ideals. They have, for a very long time, been the servants of witches and wizards. A very long time. During that time, they've developed their very servile attitude towards us."

Hermione frowned, but Harry waved it aside. "It's not really slavery, Hermione, or it's not the same. From what I've heard, it's …I don't know. Hermione, the house elves have never complained."

"Do they know they can complain?" Hermione snapped.

Harry grinned. "Usually when they do it's about a wizard not letting them do their work. It's what they live to do; it would be like taking a – a plough horse off the field because you don't want to make it work. It's what they live for."

"And what about vacations and sick leave and pensions?" She demanded.

Harry tapped his chin. "I really don't know. Honestly, Hermione, I've never questioned it."

"You should!" She snapped.

Harry raised his hands defensively. "I am now, Hermione. You would see better than I because you're looking from an outside point of view. I've never seen a sick elf, Hermione, so they either just don't get sick or if they do, they take care of each other and take themselves out. I don't think they'd want a vacation: If you didn't have to, would you vacation from Hogwarts?" Her silence was more answer than he'd expected to have. "This is what they want. In our household, old house elves are moved into lighter work. They don't work if they simply can't, and they handle those choices themselves."

"And what about other households?"

Harry closed his mouth and thought carefully, looking at the wall for a long moment. Hermione began to tap her foot before he answered. "Hermione, do you suppose Draco has a happy home life?"

She blinked. "What does this have to do with house elves?" She asked.

"Just answer."

"I suppose he'd be doted on at home," She ventured. "He seems to expect it everywhere."

"He probably is. But I'll be that if he comes home with a grade lower than the best, or with failure in anything I wouldn't be surprised if Lucius beat him." Harry spat in the fireplace in disgust. "How do you expect a house elf would be treated in a house where even the heir is abused?" Hermione's mouth opened and closed, but Harry continued. "People can't choose their homes, and with the purebloods holding as much sway as they do, people can't escape even if they want to. They're wedded to their old-fashioned ideals and they grow in them, thinking they're flourishing but only seeing the small space they were given, never imagining they could be more. What you're griping about is only a small problem in the entirety of our society, one that hasn't changed and probably won't anytime soon. Can you imagine making a difference for a creature taken for granted in a world where not even the aristocracy is safe?" Harry whispered just loud enough for Hermione to hear. "I admire your candour and zeal, but Hermione, look at the bigger picture for this one." Harry turned and looked at her, knowing she'd see the bleak expression on his face. "I think there's more that needs changing than just the treatment of one humble race."

IIII

Classes continued and Hermione began spending an unnerving amount of time in the library, looking through back corners and shadowy shelves. He didn't ask what she was looking for, but it did cut down on the amount of time he felt safe sitting there with Alan. Alan merely gave him a small nod when he explained and went back to his book, his look of preoccupation ever-present. He seemed thinner and worried; Harry hadn't yet asked, although he had a strong inkling as to just what might be the problem. Alan had told him a lot about himself last year, and Harry felt very glad to have that trust, a trust he'd returned in kind and he exercised by not prying.

Besides, Alan would harangue him if he asked a question he could work out for himself.

However, it wasn't just Alan and Hermione that turned the beginning weeks into worry: Professor Moody came in one class and looked them all over with a firm eye.

"Dumbledore asked me to show you all what it feels like to be under the Imperius. I'll be casting it on you each in turn, to see if you can throw it off.

Hermione immediately raised her hand; Moody gave her a short nod as he cleared the desks off to the sides of the room. "But, sir, you said it was illegal … using it against another human being was a life sentence in Azkaban …"

"It's very illegal." Moody growled. "Despicable curse. But you have to know, and I'm in a position to show you what it's like. If you'd rather face it first at the end of the wand of someone who means ill, then you're free to leave. I won't harm nothing of you but your pride. None of the others willing to use this will give you that courtesy."

Hermione fell silent and remained in class. Neville was pale, but determined.

Moody went through everyone in class alphabetically. Seamus got into a false swordfight with an invisible opponent. Lavender screamed like a banshee. Hermione strutted about and asked Ron for a tissue. Then Moody came to Neville. Neville relaxed for several long moments, and then tripped when he went to walk forward, landing hard on his forearms as he tried to regain himself. He didn't move after that, but Harry could see tension lining his shoulders. Finally, he rolled onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling as he started singing without coherent words. After nearly five minutes – much longer than anyone else had been under – Moody raised his wand with a wide grin.

"Good fight, Longbottom, good fight. Would you like to try and beat it? You almost got through."

Neville shook his head quickly and went back to his seat, tucking one leg up against his chest and staring into space. Harry touched his shoulder and gave him a wide smile that Neville slowly returned before looking down once more. In short order, it was Harry's turn.

Harry stood at the front and waited for the curse to hit. When it did, it was unmistakable and blissfully pleasant. There wasn't a worry in his head. But why did that make every sense he had thrum sickeningly?

'Step forward and jump.' A voice commanded, pleasant and sweet.

Harry felt himself step forward, and then threw himself against the command, taking the fall in a roll. A sharp bang later, and he woke up, the pain in his head doubling and Moody's laughter echoing off the walls.

"Well done it, Potter, well done! Step forward, you need to try again."

Harry stood reluctantly, and glanced around. Most of the students were talking to each other in excitement, but Neville was watching him intently. Reluctantly, Harry stepped forward and the bliss settled over him again. This time, although his conscious worry left, his body was still taut and ready to move, waiting to break through the fog and it's commands. When the words came, he was ready.

'Sit down,'

"No." Harry said, shaking his head. The movement threw off his balance, and he almost fell as the fog left. He staggered, and then flinched from Moody's raucous laughter.

"Well said, Potter. Take your seat; you just threw it off twice. I'm glad to see it, really glad."

Harry sat next to Neville and Neville gave him a strong smile, his leg going back down to the floor. The rest of the class continued with no others quite up to refusing. Moody reassured Ron he did feel him fighting, but that he needed work on his conviction and constant vigilance. Ron griped about how was he going to be vigilant if he lost his hearing to all of Moody's yelling, but he certainly didn't say it in Moody's vicinity.

This was, of course, one thing on top of the rest of their assignments. Teachers were piling on their work as they neared their OWL year, and although Ron griped about the extra work, with Neville and Hermione both in their group, his reluctance was minor and he was overruled. In most of their classes, Hermione and Neville were head to head on their scores, although Harry beat out both of them in Defence. Ron was the only one who didn't spend copious amounts of time in the library, so he was the least likely to have his reading done, and all four of them were more than a little annoyed with Snape's insistence on learning antidotes. Alan had reassured Harry that poisoning a student wasn't really allowed, so they were safe unless Snape was careful about which poison to use and what antidotes he had on hand. Harry asked for a more foolproof way to not be poisoned, and Alan told him to research something like basilisk poison, to which Harry glared at him, knowing there was only one antidote to that. Alan raised his eyebrow, and Harry pulled down the book of poisons in their corner. This, of course, led to a very uncomfortable confrontation with Neville.

Neville spent about the same amount of time in the library as Hermione, and he easily waylaid Harry on his way to the back corner. He didn't ask where Harry was going, but he did step beside him and ask to speak to him. Harry swallowed and led Neville to a near corner that was almost as secluded and just as dark, that didn't have Alan there. Neville sat easily, propping up the extra reading on summoning charms, and then casually addressing Harry.

"Your attitude has changed through last year, Harry." Harry tried not to react, but it didn't look like Neville was watching him. "You're becoming more Slytherin."

Harry really did flinch. "Neville …"

"Don't bother. I don't want an explanation – not yet. I just want to know what I'm seeing for what it is." He set his book down and looked over at Harry. "You're reticent and a good liar, which you never were before. Don't think I haven't noticed; you haven't tried it on me, but I've seen you do it to Hermione and Ron a lot. They don't know you like I do. You're also hiding your emotions, which you're doing right now. You told me in second year that you didn't like doing that because it hindered communication. You picked it up somewhere last year. You picked up a lot last year, including a lot of self-confidence." Neville glanced aside. "You're also manipulating Snape a lot better. I can see why you're suddenly so sure about researching Valendicia. He won't be willing to use it on a student, will he? It's very similar to basilisk poison, and thus similar to what nearly killed his son."

Harry carefully blanked his face, knowing that no matter reaction he had it would give something away. He couldn't think of how to direct Neville elsewhere with this, so he remained silent, waiting to see where Neville was going. Neville put his face in his hands and breathed.

"Something's going on, Harry, and I can't see what it is."

"I don't want to explain myself, Neville. Not right now."

"Not yet." Neville corrected. "You're getting information somewhere, and my guess would be it's in the library. Probably where you were going before I waylaid you. What are you doing, conversing in secret with Prince himself?" Harry appreciated that he still used Prince even when Alan's growth had made his parentage more than obvious. Some griping students didn't bother, and called him 'Snape' with disdain. He also appreciated that Neville stopped him from having to answer immediately thereafter. "You know, don't answer that, Harry. Just share with me your reasoning for the comfort of choosing a poison I won't have used on me and don't bother worrying about sources. I trust you."

"So you don't want to know how I know what I know?" Harry asked playfully. Neville graced him with a rude gesture, and Harry laughed lightly. "Snape is limited in the poisons he can use; pick one destructive or difficult, and he can't use it on you. He has to have a back-up antidote in case ours don't work."

Neville nodded slowly. "So what kinds of defences are there for Valendicia? I'd never even heard of that one before."

Harry grinned. "Very few. Pick something a little easier, like strychnine."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Muggle poison, Potter. No antidote. I want to practice defending against magical poisons, not muggle ones that don't even have an antidote."

"Fine by me. So, you going to tie me down here, or what?"

"Yes." Neville said firmly, standing up and gathering his books. "You're not allowed to leave. You must stay here, even though I don't plan on returning to check on you and you will sleep at this table until, oh, say next week?"

Harry nodded seriously. "Yes sir." He then stood and walked away from the table before Neville even left. Neville threw a token complaint and wandered off in silence as Harry went into the nook where Alan was seated with his Charms book and pulled up a seat. Alan looked over his book at him with a faint smirk.

"Nice chatting job. Longbottom seems to trust you a lot."

Harry nodded. "We're practically brothers. We were raised together, like you and Andrew."

Alan's mouth twitched into a rare smile that had no malice in it. "Indeed. You have your brother and I have mine. And I am to you …?" He asked.

Harry enjoyed it when Alan was that open with him. He smiled warmly back. "A best friend. Closer than anyone else save Neville. I'd say you two were about equal. He knows my past, but you know my present."

"A gift indeed." Alan turned back to his book, but Harry set his on the table with a faint frown.

"Hey, did Moody use the Imperius on your class too?"

Alan froze for a long moment, and then set his own book down with a tight expression. "Yes." He answered curtly.

Harry looked over his expression, and decided asking questions about why wouldn't be appreciated, so he continued his previous line. "Did anyone break it?"

"I did." Alan admitted. "It wasn't hard; I hate being out of control." He sneered. "Draco couldn't do anything about it. Blaise fought it, but didn't win and so did a few others. Daphne, for one."

Harry nodded slowly. "I broke it." Alan looked at him in surprise. "It wasn't hard," Harry mimicked, and Alan grinned. "Neville managed to fight it; Ron tried, but failed. It's not a nice curse."

"It isn't." Alan added. "If you can't fight it, you'll happily do what your told and then wake up knowing that you did all of it without a qualm. Imagine looking around your home and knowing that you were the one who killed everyone there in happy obedience to the little voice in your head."

Harry shuddered. "That must be hard to think about."

Alan nodded slowly. "He's not proud of it."

"You wouldn't accept him if he were, Alan." Harry said with conviction. Alan looked at him in surprise, and then smiled slowly, warmly. Harry felt a thrill of success; He'd gotten Alan to truly smile twice in a row. "Your dad really isn't that bad, is he?"

Alan's smile became an amused smirk. "Well, it all depends on whether he can remember that you're your own person or your father or not. He's managing, so long as you remember to do your own projects and not the ones your father suggests. You're really different, though. He told me once he likes your pendant."

Harry blinked and fingered the heavy snake around his throat. He'd taken to wearing it this week, after his father had written to him, talking excitedly about the ministry and the successful incarceration of the Death Eaters, several of whom were marked ones who had claimed the Imperius after the last war. Others were just supporters who had enjoyed seeing the revelry they'd never had the guts to engage in before. Feeling proud of his father, Harry had pulled it out to wear it for him. To hear that Severus liked it was surprising.

Alan watched his face and smiled. "It's good workmanship, and the snake is gorgeous."

That line didn't come out as English. Harry could understand it perfectly, but the words in his ears were thin hissing. Alan was speaking parseltongue while staring at the serpent and Harry, and Harry responded in kind, "Thank you."

Alan shook his head and turned back to his book. Harry pulled open his own and read as well. When the time finally ran around to the time to leave, Alan flinched slightly and Harry put his book down. "Are you alright, Alan?"

Alan nodded shortly. "Just a headache. I've had them for a while now. They don't last, not really." His hand was touching the right side of his face, and Harry frowned darkly.

"I don't like that, Alan."

"My dad and uncle know."

With that reassurance, Harry settled. If those two couldn't handle what was happening, then there wasn't anything to be done about it. Looking at the time, Harry packed his bags, saluted Alan, and left for Ancient Runes.

A/N: See, I do love you people. Updating Wednesday night again. Enjoy the chapter, please Read & Review! I love hearing your opinions, makes me confident in my choice to continue this story. I'm glad so many of you like the characters of mine I've brought in; please feel free to mention what you like, or, indeed what you dislike. While I may not change it, it will help me keep them level, and I value every honest opinion I can get. If you don't review, I won't know what you do or don't like.

Fire & Napalm