The Prince-Who-Lived

Chapter Twenty-five

Landing was agony, crashing into the ground on his painful shoulders, and Alan stifled another scream into choked moans. He lay without trying to move again, waiting with his eyes shut for the agony to pass, before someone touched his forehead gently, and a soft voice brought him to open his eyes despite the pain. He couldn't understand a word they were saying, and when he looked up he found himself staring into glowing white eyes in Koreol's face. He was speaking in some language Alan didn't know, but after he fell silent Alan felt himself go blessedly numb before Koreol pulled him into a sitting position and held him against his chest, hiding his face. Alan couldn't remember why he was doing so, although he knew it served a purpose, but with his body no longer distracting him, he could hear an argument going on not very far from him at all.

"What the Hell are you thinking, Dumbledore! You don't need to send anybody anywhere – you've got a fine source of information once Alan is feeling better. He'll answer questions; I can get a penseive memory from him once he's in the hospital wing, I'll leave him with his father here in fucking Great Britain, but if you suggest Severus turn spy for you one more time, I'm hauling ass out of here so fast I hope your beard chokes you as your head spins! And Severus will be coming with me!"

"Severus is a fine spy –"

"He was until he sired Alan, you fucking moron! Alan wouldn't fucking matter if Severus wasn't a fucking spy, and I think it's abundantly clear that Severus is your fucking spy, not Riddle's. Stop being so god-be-damned thick-headed and get your sense out of your fucking ass!"

At about the third cuss word, Alan could tell they'd been at it a while. Geoffrey was usually a lot more careful than that in public. Alan felt Koreol sigh – a definite sign of irritation, as breathing was not required for him save to speak – and then Koreol stood, Alan's completely limp body cradled carefully in his arms, the right side of his face with his scarred eye hidden from view. When he turned, Dumbledore and Geoffrey fell silent, Geoffrey's hands convulsing angrily as he fought down his trembling fury. After a moment, Geoffrey walked over and touched Alan's forehead carefully. Alan found that his face wasn't completely numb, and he smiled tremulously before sighing and speaking softly.

"Sev'rus can't go back. T- V- He's angry with 'im." Alan barely managed to speak, and felt a tremor of fear at the thought of … his name. Alan reassured himself he'd go back to being an ass about it later, but not right now. Not while he still hurt.

Geoffrey sighed. "I know, pup. It's alright. You trust Mrs. Pomfrey to take care of you right now? Koreol promised to stay with you in the meantime. I'm …"

"Fucking pissed?" Alan whispered playfully.

Geoffrey huffed and stroked Alan's hair gently. "Yeah, fucking pissed. Royally fucking pissed. We'll have someone up there at all times." Geoffrey turned to go, and Alan squeaked lightly.

"Geoffrey? Jeff!" Alan coughed after he spoke, and Koreol pulled him closer as Geoffrey turned worriedly, and made a soothing noise.

"Alan, calm down, please. What is it, what do you need?"

Alan widened his eyes; he really didn't want to cry no matter how worried he was. "My – my wand." He whispered. "It's … it's … right pocket. Please." Alan turned his head away as he finished. He would not cry.

Geoffrey blinked and gently pulled it out, biting his lip as he saw the break. He held it gently and leaned over to kiss Alan's forehead. "Alright pup. I'll get it fixed for you, okay?"

Alan nodded slowly and let him go, curling back against Koreol and allowing the vampire to walk inside with him, the crowd parting with worried murmurs for him and his battered burden and his glowing white eyes. Alan was watching only passingly whom they went by, and he hadn't expected to have his eye catch Harry's for a moment. Harry's eyes widened, his mouth open and face plainly scared. Alan closed his eyes and tucked back against Koreol. He'd send Andrew for him when he was feeling better. Right now, sleep was tugging at him and slowly his gaze began to darken and fade while he was painfully tired and sore. He didn't want to wake up to this in the morning, and sitting warmly and feeling so safe and painless in Koreol's arms he allowed himself to think that everything would be alright in the daylight, and that everything would just have fixed itself and he wouldn't be in so much fucking pain …

IIII

When Alan woke up again, he wished fervently he could go back to sleep. His body ached, faintly compared to what it had been before, but uncomfortable still and aside from the pain were the memories of what had happened, which he knew would not be left alone. Indeed, when he turned his head, he found himself looking at Koreol and Geoffrey, both seated beside him. Both were giving strong indications that they were furious. Geoffrey was turning pages in his books far quicker than he could be reading them and with a contained violence. Koreol was still as stone, but his eyes remained glowing faintly white, and his hands were tightly gripped where he'd folded his arms. There were faint murmurs outside the curtain, and it wasn't long before Koreol turned his gaze to Alan and stood, nudging Geoffrey as he did so and bringing Geoffrey out of his book with a snarl. Koreol's expression was blank, but Geoffrey quickly dropped his head, and turned to the bedside table and it's contents as Koreol stepped out of the curtain for a moment.

"Here." He thrust a clear potion at Alan, who looked at it without expression and Geoffrey rolled his eyes. "Your dad made it special. Drink. It'll help. He said it helped him all the time those years ago, so go figure."

Alan nodded carefully and sat up, taking the potion and drinking it down carefully, ignoring the strange feeling of tasting what felt like cotton in liquid form. Once he'd finished, however, the bone-deep ache that had been dogging him slowly began to fade away. Alan closed his eyes to enjoy it, and then smiled when he heard Koreol talking lowly with Severus. He turned to watch them come in and felt mildly distracted when he realized he was seeing out of both eyes again. He had never figured out why that worked the way it did; the only thing Koreol could figure was that it was completely unconscious, and the amount of strength required also meant some leaked into the very interesting side effects it had on his vision, such as his ability to 'see' magic like watching wavering heat. It apparently rescinded when he needed his entire magical reserve, but that seemed to take some doing.

"Alan." Severus acknowledged. Alan pulled out of his thoughts and smiled brightly at him. Severus didn't smile back, but he sat on the edge of Alan's bed and took hold of his hand. "Did the potion help?"

Alan nodded, and after a moment of indecision pulled gently on Severus' hand. He wanted his father closer, but couldn't think of how to ask. Severus looked just as lost at the gesture, and Alan looked down slowly. Severus hesitated again, and then pulled Alan over, slowly embracing him. Alan gratefully laid his head on Severus' shoulder, wrapping his arms around his back and noticing that there was no pain in his right shoulder. He remained silent for a moment before speaking up.

"Dad …" He said hesitantly. He didn't often call him that, but … "What fixed my shoulder so fast? I can't have been out really long and … it was …" Alan didn't know how to say the Dark magic shouldn't have healed so completely.

Severus shifted uncomfortably. "The headmaster's phoenix came in while Madam Pomfrey was working on you, and donated some of his tears to healing your shoulder. Madam Pomfrey was most relieved …"

"The damage had been bad, Alan." Koreol added baldly. "Madam Pomfrey wasn't sure she could get the muscle healed completely. You shouldn't have any problems now, though."

Alan nodded against his father's chest, and simply stayed where he was, wanting reassurance that he was back with people he trusted, who would keep him safe. Thinking about it … his body still ached when he returned to the memories, and he did not want to remember the pain. However, a cough came from behind the screens, and Geoffrey swore under his breath. Alan wasn't looking, but he heard the curtain move, and Severus shifted awkwardly. When Alan moved to sit back at the pillow, however, he held on, and helped him turn so he could still lean against him and see who had joined the others at his bedside. Alan was not pleased to see Dumbledore there, but felt mildly relieved to see him followed by James Potter and Sirius Black. Whether the two Marauders were jackasses or not, they were devoted aurors who understood the danger posed by Voldemort. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew they needed to be there because there was something in what he had learned that they would know when no one else would, but what was currently escaping him. It must have been something Harry had mentioned ages ago …

"Good evening, Alan." Dumbledore greeted. "I trust you are recovering well? You've slept into tomorrow. It's past dinnertime, now."

Alan nodded slowly, leaning deeply against Severus and watching the headmaster with sharp eyes. "You want to know what happened, I suppose?"

Dumbledore nodded. "You may start wherever you are comfortable, Alan."

Alan paused, but neither Geoffrey nor Koreol complained that he couldn't tell, that he shouldn't. He knew he couldn't get out of it, that it was a blessing he'd been allowed the time he had (most likely because he fainted), but he didn't want to remember. He wanted to let the pain fade into the back of his mind where it couldn't hurt him again. It wouldn't happen. It wasn't fair, it never would be, but they needed to hear and know what they were facing now. Alan took a deep breath, and chose to begin farther back than he otherwise would.

"It was V-" Alan's throat froze, and he coughed; fighting back a shudder and a memory ache in his face. "The Dark Lord." He settled for, his mouth twisting with distaste, and his hands shaking. He clenched them into fists, and Severus gently worked them loose, placing his own hand there for Alan to clutch. "He admitted to entering me in the tournament. Said he had one of his servants sneak into Hogwarts and do so. I don't know how he got in, but he called the man Wormtail."

"Wormtail?" James started. "That little rat! He was there?"

Alan swallowed and nodded, feeling mildly better. They knew who that was. Good. "He was apparently the one to enter my name. He was also the one to turn the cup into a- a portkey. I think he imperiused Karkaroff to do it. He probably sabotaged the second task, too, but they … didn't bring it up. He got himself a shiny new silver hand now as well; I think I know why but I'm not sure. Right hand, I think."

"What happened at the third task, Alan?"

Alan bit back the desire to complain about the obstacles in the maze. That wasn't what he was talking about, and he knew it. He just … didn't want to return to the graveyard. Didn't want to remember the torture.

"I got to the cup and didn't have much time to look at it. There was a spider opposite, so I just ran and grabbed it, and it –it was a portkey. Took me into a graveyard, I don't know where. I got stunned shortly after arriving. When I woke up, I was looking at Vol-" another spasm, "the Dark Lord. He went into a monologue about himself, offered to make me his heir, told of how he'd been …" Alan looked up at Dumbledore and felt he couldn't leave it out, even if he wanted to "vanquished, I suppose, after trying to kill me because of a prophecy. How he was so little afterwards, weak and hidden." Alan shrugged. "I told him I wasn't interested in being his, didn't want some tasteless tattoo. He – cursed me. The Cruciatus." Alan shivered and looked away. He'd never really thought much of what a curse that only caused pain could do. He supposed after a time anything became unbearable. Remembering made his skin shiver and sweat.

"How did he return, child?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Alan bristled at the endearment, irritation washing away the memories, and he felt his face blank into indifference. "Flesh of the servant, Bone of the father, Blood of the enemy, he said. An old Dark ritual."

Geoffrey growled something vile under his breath, and Koreol sighed. "Where?" He asked. Alan didn't ask him to clarify; he held out his left arm and showed the long, straight cut from his elbow to his wrist. It was nothing more than a shiny line of pale skin, going down his arm, rather than across as all the other cuts from Dolohov did. The cuts done by spell weren't healed fully yet, simply cleaned and scabbed. He supposed it was because they were Dark in origin. At least the knife cuts were gone; thank Merlin, those done with plain steel. The ones that had covered most of his skin.

Dumbledore looked intently at the line on his arm, and then back at Alan. "What happened after he … 'monologued'?"

Alan gave him a cold, hard stare in return and waited, not to bother him, but to gather his thoughts on how to answer. Bothering him was a bonus.

"They tortured me." He said baldly, blandly, with none of the feeling that swelled inside him, disguising the cold fear that made him feel painfully nauseous, as though his stomach was trying to tie itself into a small knot, as though if that could become smaller, they wouldn't notice him and the pain would go away. "I fought back. Got away."

Severus raised his free hand, the one not being held in Alan's white-knuckled grip, and rested it on Alan's shoulder, pulling him closer as Alan withdrew until he didn't want to see the others looking at him and fell against Severus, pressing into someone warm and trusted. He held on with a fierceness born of desperation to avoid the horrible memories and clenched his teeth impotently to stifle the threatening sob.

Behind him, he heard those that were there shifting, and he stiffened as he felt someone reach towards his back. Someone else – Geoffrey, most like – stood and his guess was confirmed as Geoffrey spoke.

"I do think what happened is something more of the concern of Mrs. Pomfrey, and less yours. If you'd like to hear, you can bring her over and we'll discuss it for his healing, and not for your sadistic curiosity." He bit off the end, and Alan could well imagine his fierce expression.

"Very well, then." Dumbledore allowed blandly. "I'll got see her over here, then." Alan heard him walk away, and sighed as he leaned his head onto Severus' shoulder. He paused, and then gave up his pride to sound like a child for a moment.

"Do I have to … talk about it?" His voice trembled slightly, but despite his dislike of the reaction, he didn't fight it. He didn't have the energy for it, and he just wanted to abdicate his worries and concerns to someone else, someone more capable than he was. Severus pulled him closer and didn't answer; Geoffrey, behind him, took the lead.

"Alan … yes. We need to know, because if there were specific curses you were afflicted with, we need to make sure they're gone for good. And it really will help. We're all here for you, Alan. Your father, me, Koreol … once Pomfrey's looked you over once more, I think she'll let Andrew in if there's nothing that's particularly worrisome."

Alan pressed his face harder into Severus' chest, and bit his lip gently. Madam Pomfrey shuffled through the curtains, and Alan sat up before she even spoke. Before he turned away, however, Severus caught his chin and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead before letting him sit back. Alan gave him a tremulous smile for the effort, and then turned to face the interrogation of the mediwitch.

IIII

Three days after the disastrous end of the third task, Harry and Neville were sitting in the library after Neville had forced Harry out of their dorm once more. Harry hadn't wanted to sit still, and only Neville was fully aware of the cause. Neville had passed it off as concern for his father, and the very vague reassurances he'd given them while passing through the school but after telling Harry firmly four times in the day after that he could not go into the Hospital wing, it was clear Harry was worried about Alan. However, with their friendship being hidden, he wasn't even capable of asking to visit, especially with Alan's guardians standing watch at all hours. The only time Neville got Harry to calm down and sit still was when he told him to meditate, which he'd taken to advising more often than not. A telling sign of Harry's mental state was that he had only complained about the orders once.

It was late evening now, and there was not another soul in the library with them; they'd probably be kicked out any minute. Harry was deep into his trance, and Neville was reading a book he'd borrowed from Harry, his mind deep into the discussion of poisons – it was a very involved book, one of the illegal American ones as well. It wasn't five more minutes before Harry pulled out of his trance, and looked across at Neville and then tilted his head to the side curiously as he looked past him, on a pale figure he could see leaning against the bookshelves. Neville saw his change in attention and looked as well, his posture sharpening at the company. Harry, however, wasn't worried. He recognized Andrew from the World Cup, and gave a gentle nod his direction, indicating a seat at the table gently. Andrew paused, but took the offered seat with a frown.

Harry yawned, and gave him a curious look. "What are you doing looking for me, Andrew?" Andrew darted a glance at Neville and Harry blinked his surprise before shrugging. "Neville knows Alan's my friend." Harry stopped after that, feeling his frustration well up, and needing to fight it back down before he could speak. Andrew didn't seem to notice as his own gaze dropped to where he was currently fiddling with his hands.

"Koreol told me I could fetch one of Alan's friends and bring them in to visit this evening if I wanted. I trust him to keep silent about who I choose to bring, and I think Alan would like to see you, Harry."

Harry bit his lip. He really wanted to see Alan, but he wasn't so sure how much he wanted to trust this Koreol. He didn't know who it was, and he also didn't want to leave Neville like that, although he knew Neville wasn't having any of his current problems …

"I'm willing to say you're still studying with me, Harry." Neville offered without looking up from his book at all. "And since we studied through supper, I can then make a trip to the kitchens, as you certainly weren't hungry at any point this evening."

"But I don't know … is Koreol trustworthy?" Harry bit his lip.

Andrew's head came up abruptly. "Of course he is!" Andrew snapped. He paused, and then shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry, you don't know him. He's my mentor. Um, the vampire who came to get me and Alan away from Crouch at the World Cup?"

Harry blinked, and then nodded slowly. "I suppose so. I didn't know."

Andrew just shrugged it off again, his movements stiff. "S'alright, s'alright. I'm just … I don't like all this. Don't like it at all. Haven't seen Alan more'n once yet, and so … I really don't like it."

"Well," Harry put a small smile on and closed the book he'd been pretending to read. "Can we go, then?"

Andrew sprang to his feet and nodded. "Alan says you've got an invisibility cloak? A damn good one, he says?"

"Yeah?" Harry nodded and patted his bag.

"Put it on, eh?" Andrew asked. "Makes me have less to worry about and explain. Just don't be surprised when Koreol notices you're there, and don't be menacing about it. You'll lose against him, flat."

Harry nodded and quickly pulled his cloak out, pulling it on and disappearing beneath. He followed as Andrew led the way out, and strode up to the hospital wing, not caring in the least as several eyes followed his path, and others made aborted motions to approach. His quick stride left them behind, and left Harry struggling to keep up. At the next cross of hallways, the left turn leading to the hospital wing, Andrew paused and looked lost for a moment. Harry was grateful; it allowed him a chance to catch up and catch his breath. Andrew had long legs! Andrew only paused a moment, and then apparently remembered and took the corner. Harry caught the look of amusement on his face before he pulled ahead though, and spent the next few halls cursing the sadistic vampire brat. However, Andrew did lead them into the hospital wing, and once there he slowed and became solemn again. Harry kept right at his shoulder as he walked back to the curtained bed at the far end, passing the two beds beside it where Geoffrey and Severus were both asleep. Andrew glanced around the ward and then glanced over Harry's head, speaking,

"Wait a moment, will you?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but slipped past the screens and disappeared for a moment. Harry heard nothing, not a word of discussion, but he waited patiently for a conclusion to come out. When the screens stirred again, however, it wasn't Andrew who stepped out but a different, taller blonde man with the same white-gold eyes and pale skin. He glanced around the ward once before bringing his eyes back to roughly where Harry was standing beneath the invisibility cloak, and he frowned.

"Please take the hood down for a moment."

Harry obeyed and looked up at him, obscenely proud he could do so without shaking. Logically, he knew Koreol was Andrew's mentor and completely trusted by Alan in all things. Unfortunately, he also knew that Koreol was a very old, very powerful vampire and it was deeply ingrained to be scared of a predator that you knew could kill you very easily. Being friends and comfortable with Andrew was different than being with Koreol, but Harry was willing to face up to him in order to be allowed to see Alan.

Koreol only stared at him for several moments before he stood back and pulled open the screen to let him through. Harry gave him a small smile and darted in, pulling off his invisibility cloak and stepping up to look at Alan on his bed. Harry's chest tightened at the sight. Alan was sitting cross-legged at the head of his bed, much as he had the last time Harry had visited him in the hospital wing, and much as he had then, Alan looked tired and drawn. But the largest difference now was that Alan looked more than just tired; he looked scared. He hadn't been scared after facing the basilisk. Harry couldn't imagine what the difference was, but he stood silently and watched him until Alan looked from Andrew and back to him. A small smile warmed his face, and he beckoned Harry closer. It was with a faint laugh that Harry walked up there, and then, checking with a look, hopped onto the bed and sat facing him. It brought a wider smile to Alan's face, and Harry couldn't help but ask,

"What happened?"

IIII

It seemed obscene that it was easier to tell Harry everything than it had been to talk to Dumbledore and Pomfrey, Alan thought, but it didn't change the fact that it was. Maybe it was the history between them. Every time he'd been in danger of life and limb before while at Hogwarts, Harry had been there. The basilisk, Quirrel … both times then he'd followed or dragged Harry with him, and Harry hadn't pulled back or stopped. He'd plunged headlong before or beside him, and sharing the trauma now seemed all the easier for it. His presence almost made him forget that Koreol was sitting calmly at the edge of the screen, and Andrew just stood to the side and listened.

However, the biggest difference Alan noticed was when he found his mouth moving and talking about the torture without even thinking about whether to share it with Harry or not. His body couldn't take the move into the subject without the clinical dissociation he'd forced when reporting to Madam Pomfrey, and he began to shake and cry. Harry moved from facing him to crawl beside him on the bed, awkwardly pulling him into a hug, but he didn't stop talking about it. He didn't look up from Harry's shoulder until he finished, and once he was out of the pain of the memories, he breathed and waited. He couldn't believe he'd told him all of it, but it was done. Once he felt calmer, Alan pulled back and looked up to Harry, waiting to see horror on his face, or disgust, or something of the two. He found both, but before each of them, Harry was baldly angry. Alan bit his lip to control his desire to burst into hysterical laughter, something he was sure was a response to the trauma but an unwanted one, and shrugged before giving Harry a wry smile.

"I don't think you'll like hearing this, but you and your dad both react the same way to this." Alan remarked. Harry blinked, and shrugged.

"For this? I'm not surprised. This … disgusts me." Harry growled. Alan couldn't suppress a flinch, and Harry tightened his arm around Alan's shoulder. "That they could do that to another person. That someone could be so …crass as to hurt someone else for … for that. No reason, no fucking real legitimate reason. I'm sure it made sense to their twisted minds, but it's no fucking reason."

Alan leaned against Harry's shoulder and didn't respond, grateful though he was for the defence. His perspective seemed to be righting itself as Harry spoke, the frantic, terrified emotions he'd been suffering through clearing like smoke before wind as Harry spoke in his defence. Once Harry fell silent, Alan sat up and gave him an awkward smile. Harry smiled back, and tentatively scooted from his side back to facing him. Alan smiled what felt like a real smile back, and bent to pick at the sheets.

"Fudge doesn't believe that Vol-demort's back." Alan offered, tripping only once over the name. He looked up and was rewarded to see Harry gape for a moment, before he pulled back with a snarl, pulling an expletive and attaching it to the minister in a way his mother never told him to. Alan raised his eyebrow, and Harry subsided, running his hand through his flyaway hair.

"I'm not really surprised, though." Harry grumbled. "He wouldn't. From what my dad tells me, he's weak, and he doesn't want to get off his tubby little ass and deal with an actual war. And it will be war if Voldemort's back." Alan nodded. "What evidence does he think is bloody missing?" Harry asked. "What more does he need? Deaths? A Death Eater on his doorstep?"

Alan snorted. "He's got that everyday, and invites him in for tea and crumpets to boot, telling him to wash the blood off in the sink and down the drain before he has to notice it."

Harry fell silent and looked back at Alan with a frustrated cast. "If he's not going to do anything about it, we're in deep shit."

Alan nodded silently back, and shrugged helplessly where he sat. "What more can we do? Dumbledore will be doing something. Geoffrey said he's going to be leaving me with Severus while he returns to America for a few things and then he'll come back."

"Will … your godfather remain there?"

Alan paused, and then shrugged. "I'd prefer that he would, but … it's his choice. I don't think he will. This is the third time I've been screwed over, you remember."

Harry offered a small smile. "It would be nice to meet him, you know."

Alan smiled wanly back, and leaned back into the headboard. Harry got to his knees and leaned forward to give Alan another short hug.

"I'm glad you're alright, Alan." Harry whispered. He leaned back and looked forlornly at the cut on Alan's cheek below his right eye before he focused on Alan's gaze again. "Get better soon, alright?"

Alan smiled weakly, and watched as Harry grabbed his cloak and disappeared, leaving quickly. Koreol watched him go, and then looked back at Alan.

"I'm glad you told him everything." Koreol murmured.

Alan coloured and looked away. "It … just seemed to come out."

"It will help, having told someone. You didn't really tell it when we asked it of you, but I knew you wouldn't."

Alan felt ready to bristle, but he firmly reminded himself that Koreol was very old, very experienced. He'd probably been through similar situations, seen people break and people heal more times than he could count. Alan curled around his knees once more, and glanced over at Andrew hesitantly.

"Thank you for bringing him, Andrew." Alan whispered.

Andrew brushed a hand over Alan's shoulder, hesitating at Alan's minute flinch at the contact, and letting his hand fall away. "No problem." He allowed. "Anything to help you."

Alan nodded and let his chin fall onto his knees, staring blankly at the end of the bed and the curtain beyond.

"You are feeling much better, Alan." Koreol reassured him. Alan looked at him with empty eyes, and Koreol smiled thinly. "Voldemort. That was the first time you'd used his name since you came back."

Alan felt his gaze blank once more, but for a different reason. He had said the name hadn't he? And he'd felt nothing. He'd just been telling Harry about it, just … talking. Alan let his cheek touch his knees again and smiled faintly as it all slipped away.

IIII

Alan wasn't pleased to be riding the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year, but he supposed that it was alright. He sat with Daphne, Blaise, and the rest of his coterie, and mostly stared silently out the window as the others played Exploding Snap and other such games, a few wary glances straying his way but none of them intruding. The Slytherins understood a private pain. Chances are, a lot of them were caught up in their own thoughts more than the games they played anyways. Many of them would be striding a fine line once they returned home. The only good thing about it was that Geoffrey had gotten him his wand back, whole once more. It was a small blessing, but nothing against the chaos the world was balanced upon.

Dumbledore had announced the onset of the war at the Leaving Feast, his conviction that Voldemort had returned. He managed to make Alan sound like a coincidental victim as Voldemort had planned it: a power play, of defying Dumbledore's power over the school and the light, of taking a child under his care and twisting them out and hurting them to declare war. Turning a school victory into a bell of war. He'd made Alan to be a heroic victim picking himself back up after the attack. Alan hadn't liked it but when the option was victim or hero, he'd choose the former. It was an easier title to shed.

Halfway through the ride, Alan left the compartment to stretch his legs and visit the loo, leaving with his hand touching the small bag Fudge had left behind when he'd denied Voldemort's existence: a thousand galleons prize money. It was something Alan most certainly did not want. He didn't get very far in his distraction before Malfoy stepped into his path and glared at him.

"Are you still holding to you stupid ideas, Prince? Your conviction in being a ridiculous American."

"Are you still convinced marrying your cousins is the best way to go about breeding yourselves like dogs?" Alan drawled. He held his temper with an iron fist, because if he let go, Draco would be howling in pain on the floor of the compartment, and Alan didn't think he'd let the curses go. He could still remember Lucius' voice among the Death Eaters, and he would not be like that man. "Just get out of my way, Draco." Alan growled, anger trembling in his voice.

Malfoy, however, heard not anger but fear, and stepped closer. Alan refused to bring out his wand, and forced himself to take a step back. He was shaking, now, with rage, with memories, with fear, and Malfoy smiled grimly. His temper trembled on the brink of murder, and then Alan flinched as a jet of light passed his head, striking down Malfoy as another set came, passing him by on all sides, and sending Malfoy and his barely arrived bookends to the floor. Alan turned, and found the Weasley twins, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville out of their compartment and aiming all wands past him to the goons on the floor. From the other end of the hall, Lucille, Daphne and Blaise were brandishing their own and regarding Malfoy and his with disdain. Alan licked his lips carefully and nodded slowly to the Gryffindors, finding his breath to speak after a few moments.

"Thank you. I don't … didn't …"

"No need." Harry growled, and his mouth twitched into a wry smile. "Doesn't hurt to practice hexing Death Eaters when they're young. We'll have to deal with the older ones soon enough, and since you clearly weren't up to that fight …" Harry trailed off, and Alan sneered at him, and gave a mocking bow. He paused, however, and regarded the bag of money in his pocket. Thinking him done with the discussion, Harry and his friends slipped back into their compartment, and the twins moved to follow. Alan looked at Malfoy and the others for another moment, and remembered Harry's tales of their jokes. Alan stepped forward and grabbed the shoulder of the nearest one. The boy stopped, and Alan said nothing; he simply thrust the bag into his hand, and raised an eyebrow, turning and striding away without waiting for an answer. He didn't heed their calls to stop, and rejoined his friends without a backwards glance. Let them think what they like.

A/N: Yikes, I almost forgot to update. Here it is, last chapter of fourth year. Next update will start fifth. I stand by the statement of the first chapter to garner more than ten reviews will get an extra update when the tenth hits my mailbox!

Also, I'm considering doing a series of oneshots for this story, of scenes you didn't get to see because of Point of View. If you can think of any you'd like me to consider, I will certainly see about fitting them in. I'm not sure when I'll start posting these, as many of them will contain spoilers, but the oneshots are definite - I've already written a few and have several planned.

Thank you for reading, and thank you very much to everyone who reviewed!

Fire & Napalm