The Prince-Who-Lived

Chapter Forty-six

Alan woke when he was abruptly jostled again. He was quite comfortable where he was and had no desire to make his sore and screaming limbs move. However, the motion was insistent, and he blearily opened his eyes. He couldn't think for a long moment, and wondered if he'd even opened his eyes, as the night was so very dark. Finally, though, he just sighed and slid down, leaning against the thestral up until it moved away, dropping him. The fall reminded him instantly that he'd broken a rib: he writhed in pain on the ground. Luna knelt by his face and soothed him as he stopped moving and just let the pain subside behind his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, Alan realized he must have passed out. Someone was gently slapping his cheeks, and when he groaned, a light voice drove some of his headache away. He loved Luna's voice. She had to speak again before he actually understood what she was saying.

"You're going to have to wake up if you want us to be getting you inside. There's too many people to carry, you know, so some of you have to wake up, and it's kinda defaulted on you because we're not sure what's wrong with Harry either."

Alan woke up quickly at that. "Harry's out?"

Luna gave him a slight smile, looking completely spaced out. Her tone was perfectly reasonable. "He fell asleep while riding with Neville and we haven't been able to wake him. Regulus did a little convulsion and passed out too. You just need to walk on your own. Neville and Ginny can take Harry, and Lily and Salvador can help hold the men, but I don't think I can carry you."

Alan nodded carefully, and looked around, finally registering where they were. The forest was dark this evening, and the thestrals had wandered deeper into the woods. He saw none of them. A little ways away, Regulus and James were both lying down; Lily's red hair was by a smaller figure curled up a little ways away. Worried, Alan fought to sit up. His rib screamed at him, and he groaned as he lay back down, fighting the urge to writhe. It would not make him feel any better. Pomfrey had most unfortunately not been able to cover the rib spell as well as he would have liked, so he couldn't risk healing himself. Finally, he could speak again.

"Luna, can you help me up? I don't want to move my rib again."

"Certainly."

With Luna's help, he not only sat up, but with Sirius on his other side, Alan managed to stand. He could maintain that fairly well on his own, but he felt like he was primed to fall over again. Cautiously, he looked at James and Regulus, but neither was that interesting: he cared surprisingly little for James at the moment, and Regulus' state was inevitable and required trained Healers, but Harry was another matter. He felt far more responsible for Harry's injuries. He stumbled over and looked down at Lily, feeling like his heart was in his eyes. She looked up and softened; he might not have been very wrong about that.

"He's asleep, but muttering. I'm not sure what's wrong, but … I don't think it's much. Sirius thinks we should get in to somewhere on the main floor or lower and then bring Poppy down to us. Umbridge is currently still in power, and they need medical attention now, and Poppy's silence is preferable to making a fuss in St. Mungo's in the current climate. It will be possibly another hour before I suspect Dumbledore can regain his hold on Hogwarts, but even so this is safer than Headquarters with a closer healer."

Alan nodded. "Pomfrey will be more than happy to help. Luna can go get her once we're settled. I can get us into my father's quarters; nothing should be in the labs, so she'll be able to work there, or on his or my bed. It's fairly close."

Lily nodded easily. "Alright. Do you have Harry's map?"

Alan nodded shortly, and turned, "Luna, do you remember which pocket Harry put his bag in?"

"Left front. It's just shrunk; but he's only got the cloak. Neville has the map."

Alan looked around and found Neville apparently napping against a tree across the clearing. "Neville!" He called carefully. Neville twitched awake, and frowned at Alan, standing stiffly.

"What?"

"We need to check the map. We're heading in to my dad's rooms, and need to avoid Umbridge."

Neville walked over, pulling the map out and muttering something before tapping it and flipping it open. Sirius came over, curious, followed by Salvador. Ginny and Blaise were cuddling against another tree, watching but not moving. They were close enough to hear everything. Lily had gotten out the cloak and was smoothing it carefully across her lap.

"We've got Pansy patrolling with Julianna in the halls, but currently they're on the far path. In the front hall, there's no one; Umbridge is pacing in her room. Pomfrey is bustling about her infirmary, still awake and Filch is in the dungeons with … Oh dear. Looks like the twins finally got it. They should survive the night, at least. Not like it'll be happening again."

Lily's lips had thinned, but she only nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, we'll be in the clear, then?"

"Pretty much." Neville shrugged.

"Let's go, then."

Lily and Neville managed the slighter Regulus, while Sirius and Salvador braced James, followed by Ginny and Blaise with Harry. Alan held the map while Luna walked beside him, the cloak draped over her arm and helping him keep both his balance and a cursory watch. They ran into no trouble getting into the dungeons and Severus' quarters; only the Bloody Baron saw them and merely nodded before drifting away. He liked Alan; he wouldn't report anything on him.

Everyone got inside without incident, and Luna draped herself in the cloak and bustled upstairs to get Pomfrey, Alan worriedly watching her with the map, his mirror in hand as Luna held onto Blaise's for in case Alan needed to contact her.

Around him, Blaise and Ginny had curled up on one of the sofas, Ginny finally calming down. Salvador was leaning against the wall and glaring at air; Neville was brooding on the couch. Lily and Sirius were cleaning and cushioning the lab tables to use for Harry, Regulus and James. Alan was considering calling Lyall about getting one of the Alfaerus to help with the healing, but he didn't want to do so quite yet. He'd offer when Pomfrey got here.

"Alan!"

Alan jumped, and picked up his mirror. It hadn't been Luna's voice; it was Geoffrey's. Breathing fast, Alan answered, "I'm here! Geoffrey, what's going on?" Around him, everyone turned half their attention to listen.

"You're safe?"

"Severus' quarters." Alan answered easily. "Luna's fetching Pomfrey. I trust her; she hates Umbridge. She won't breathe a word."

Geoffrey nodded abruptly. "Don't be afraid to call Lyall and get Autumn or Mellisande. We're finally wrapping things up; I'm in St. Mungo's, but I'll be out and about by tomorrow, same as most of the others."

"Any injuries?" Alan asked, worried.

Geoffrey nodded solemnly. "A couple. Alice Longbottom is worst; she got on the wrong end of a nasty spell, but it's looking pretty good. Unless something unexpected turns up, she should only be in for a week or so. Frank got knocked out with her, but they should be waking him soon for a better check. Severus had only minor injuries I had to make him get treated, stubborn ass. Alastor got knocked about pretty badly and I," Geoffrey blushed, "accidentally shot him when him and the Fuck Lord changed places a little too quickly. Kingsley Shacklebolt came out pretty much clean, and Sirius' cousin is banged up a bit too, but she's coming around. So, nothing severe. How are things on your end?"

Alan shrugged, smiling slightly. "I think we're all a little sore; I know I am. Lily and Sirius seem to be alright, as do Luna, Salvador, and Blaise. Ginny accidentally killed someone so she's a little choked up," Alan instinctively ducked and felt fortunate as the shoe sailed overhead. "She's getting over it fine." Alan hastily added, but frowned as he moved on. "Neville's being pretty quiet but looks alright, and Harry and James are unconscious, and so is Regulus."

"The people you left behind?" Geoffrey asked. Alan wasn't too surprised; he'd mentioned his group to Geoffrey, and knew the man would be disappointed if Alan hadn't covered his ass at Hogwarts as well.

"Fred and George are in detention, but nothing really bad should happen, I hope." Alan chewed his lip a moment, and nodded carefully. "Jonas is in Ravenclaw, so I suspect he's fine. Everyone but Fred and George are in their dormitories, so from the information I have, it went alright." Alan frowned as he continued. "I know Filch has more chains than that, so …" He stubbornly didn't continue the thought.

Geoffrey simply nodded. "Good. All right, I'll let you go. Don't be afraid to contact home, all right? Lyall just might kill you if you let Regulus go without proper care."

Alan smiled weakly, and blinked as the corners of the mirror flashed; another person was trying to contact him. "Alright, Geoffrey. Someone else is talking at me, so I have to go."

Geoffrey nodded understandingly and cut the line; immediately Luna's face arrived, smiling serenely. "I've got her just fine, Alan. We're on our way."

"Thank you, Luna." Alan breathed. "Hurry?"

"Of course, Alan." Her tone was negligent, her expression far away. Alan just smiled and let her go, leaning back against the couch.

After several minutes of just staring blankly at the ceiling in a room full of silence, he turned and looked over Neville's way. Neville was still silent in his spot, watching his hands fuss in his lap. Alan scooted over and quietly offered, "Hey." Neville was out of the semi-group, and a quiet conversation would probably go unheard in the general preoccupation around them. Neville's eyes flicked over at him, and then back to his lap. Alan didn't leave, and finally Neville relaxed minutely.

"I'm not entirely sure it was the best choice I made. To go after her like that. To … kill." He admitted softly.

Alan leaned aside, not watching Neville's face at all and only really seeing his hands as he answered. "Do you regret it?"

"Not really, no. She deserved to die." Neville's voice was unsure, weak. He wasn't confident about it.

"I think, …" Alan hesitated, filtering the words he'd heard from Voldemort, "I think she … you weren't her only victim, like that. Voldemort … I'd really have to double-check, but I suspect … she did … something like that … to another boy. She liked it. She did … She was in the wrong, Neville."

"Doesn't warrant killing." Neville murmured. "I'm not going to beat myself up over it, I'm just … uncomfortable."

"Do you feel … more free?" Alan asked quietly.

"I know it won't happen again." Neville immediately answered. "Isn't that the same thing?"

Alan smiled carefully, and then eyed the map. Quickly, almost impulsively, Alan gave Neville a one-armed hug. The boy laughed, and pushed him away, his eyes smiling with the rest of his face.

"Goofball. Go let Luna and Pomfrey in."

Alan awkwardly stood and did so, smiling tightly. Pomfrey saw his drawn face and immediately told him to stand still, stepping inside and letting Luna shut the door as she cast a quick diagnostic spell. She found the rib immediately, along with several other things, including a mild complication from his continuous motion thereafter. Her bag came out, and Alan tried to turn her aside. She wasn't hearing it.

"I can clearly tell there's a room full of people here that aren't seeing a healer other than me, and while I heard from Luna you have three unconscious, I'm going through this room first because you all need attention and if you haven't died in the hour-long trip back, you're not going to die for fifteen minutes. Drink this," She thrust a phial into his hands, "and stand up straight. Someone get behind him; healing ribs is unpleasant but he can't sit."

Alan groaned and submitted. Neville came up behind him and, at Pomfrey's urging, gently took Alan's arms to prevent him from falling or thrashing too much. When she cast the spell, Alan could tell why. It didn't hurt, but it was damn close. The feeling left him nauseated, and Neville's arms tightened to keep him upright as he swayed, his knees not buckling only because he leaned back into Neville. Things were not supposed to move like that under your skin; it just wasn't healthy. It was over in a few minutes, and she gave him another potion and told him to sit if he was stubborn, or lie down if he didn't want a sore neck from falling asleep on the couch. Naturally, Alan sat down. Neville got checked over next. He wasn't badly injured; he'd ended most of the spells he'd been hit with himself, and Pomfrey healed a cracked bone, refined several healed cuts, and then gave him a potion with the same admonition Alan had gotten. Neville went to the couch and summoned a pillow, lying at the armrest, the pillow under his shoulders. Compromise.

Salvador was in similar condition to Neville, and he sat at the wall, as reticent as he'd been since Alan had run into him earlier in the evening. It was unlike him; Alan had only seen him like this before at the beginning of the year when his parents had given him their ultimatum about Voldemort. He was free of them, though, so Alan couldn't imagine what was going through his mind now. However, he'd have to pry later.

Blaise and Ginny were more of the same: minor spells, exhaustion. Blaise had suffered the Cruciatus, and Ginny got a calming draught, Blaise a painkiller. Neither moved from their armchair, and Pomfrey looked over them again. Eyeing Alan she frowned again.

"Mr. Longbottom, please haul Mr. Prince into his bedroom and tuck him in, because if he's still out here when I get back, I will haul him there myself and stick him in place with a sticking charm until I come back to check on him in the morning." Pomfrey turned a full glare on Alan. "You have bruised ribs and minor internal damage and bleeding that that potion is healing right now, and it will be best for you to be horizontal."

"But if you have difficulty, I can get someone from Salem," Alan tried. Pomfrey cut him off.

"The floo is being watched, as are the doors. Just because your little escapade escaped notice doesn't mean another will. Nobody will be coming in at the moment, and if I get that desperate, I will haul in a mediwizard from here with the same likely effects. If I desperately need such help, I will wake you. Bed. Now."

Alan stopped arguing and let Neville help him there. Alan yawned and sidled over to one side, murmuring sleepily that he doubted Severus would get in, and that that bed could be taken as well. Neville had smiled weakly, and the last thing Alan remembered before falling asleep was Neville murmuring he only needed to sit a moment …

IIII

Alan woke in the morning feeling groggy, but comfortable. He stretched out in bed, and heard someone beside him mutter and grumble. Looking over, Alan was surprised for a moment to see Neville's golden brown head ducking under the covers. Alan stifled a laugh. Lovely. He struggled out from under the blankets, and only noticed his motion breeching a spell when it reacted and rippled in his sight. He glanced up at the door in time to watch it open for Lily Potter.

She smiled upon seeing him up. "Good morning, Alan. It's about eleven in the morning."

Alan nodded. "How's everyone?"

Lily came and sat on the edge of the bed, next to Alan. Neville had raised his head out of the blankets to listen, unwilling to sit up himself. Lily nodded to him, and looked at Alan.

"Harry should be fine. He was cursed; trapped in nightmares, but it was a simple spell to break. Combined with being exhausted under the Cruciatus, he simply fainted. James was in similar condition; both of them had minor concussions, among other smaller spells and cuts."

Alan nodded carefully, and watched her as he asked, "Regulus?"

Lily's face tightened. "I don't currently know, but it was bad. He's alive, and not in immediate danger of dying, but as soon as Dumbledore retook control of the school, Pomfrey sent him through to Salem. We haven't heard back yet."

Alan nodded carefully, fighting back tears. He didn't like this at all; he was really worried about Regulus. "When can I see him?"

Lily shrugged carefully. "The healers at Salem refuse to let anyone visit at the moment, and informed me they'd send a message when you could." She found a small smile. "They anticipated your need."

Alan nodded quietly. "How's everyone else?"

"Healing. Nobody else is in any danger."

"The Weasley twins?"

"Fine, and healed." Lily's dark expression quirked with a small smile. "They didn't seem at all deterred by the punishment, either."

Alan smiled weakly, and nodded. He wasn't surprised they weren't. "How's Salvador? Have the others gone back to their dorms?"

"Ginny and Blaise curled up and slept on the couch; I slept in Severus' room with Sirius. After Dumbledore came back, Pomfrey moved Harry and James up to the hospital wing. I think Salvador went back to his dorm."

Alan nodded – Salvador wouldn't have hung around, and without the threat of more detention, he was unlikely to leave the school either. Alan couldn't fully appreciate his position – Salvador was stuck on a thin line of where his loyalty should lie, and while joining the Baker's removed the expectation of Voldemort, it left him with an obligation to them Alan didn't fully understand. Either way, it was confusing and Alan didn't know what to make of it. Prying, however, would be most unwelcome. He'd have to do it later when he could be a little more careful about it.

"Can I get up and about?"

Lily stood. "I'll go tell Poppy you two are awake and she'll be able to tell you that upon a second look. If you get out of that bed before I get back, you will be in trouble, though."

Alan nodded easily. He knew how stubborn healers were after near-death experiences, especially Poppy. Right now, he wasn't in the mood to argue. If she was just coming, he could wait five minutes. Lying back down was tempting, but if he fell asleep again, Poppy would not wake him back up. He'd had more than enough sleep for the time being, so he turned to look at Neville, who wasn't sleeping either, although he was still lying down.

"Feeling saucy again, Alan?" Neville asked carefully.

Alan nodded. "I've slept more than twelve hours. I feel fine." Neville looked amused, and Alan cut off his possible sceptical remark. "What happened on your end, anyways?"

Neville shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing much. We listened to Harry's prompt, got down in one group, with Salvador using the spell for magic sight – we didn't find anyone in the Atrium, you know – and still did a little scout around the room before taking the stairs down. The lift is too damn noisy, and I flatly refused to use it when there was a perfectly serviceable stairwell that was much easier to control. Either way, we were downstairs and waiting before you called us in again. We split into two groups in the Department of Mysteries, and I was with Blaise and Ginny. Harry mirror-called me to tell me to break in immediately, so we joined the fight and within five minutes, Bellatrix had singled me out and, well, I didn't disagree on that."

Alan could tell he was certainly simplifying his fight with Bellatrix: he was clearly uncomfortable about it, but Alan refused to press. He didn't want to talk about the prophecy, either, and was extremely grateful he didn't have to – no one else knew about it being revealed. He probably should, but not yet. Just not yet.

"Well." Poppy huffed, coming through the door. "I see you're both awake. Sit still, Mr. Prince."

Alan remained perfectly still as she cast several diagnostic spells, running up and down and checking that everything was in order. "The sleep did you good," She gruffly admitted, "I don't see anything that needs to be attended to anymore, and everything from your rib has cleared up. You're free to go, Alan, just don't get in another fight, would you?"

Alan smiled roguishly. "Umbridge is gone; Draco should be sulking if he's managed to find out his father's dead. Who would I pick a fight with?"

"Draco." Neville and Poppy both answered at once.

Alan snorted, and sighed. "I won't pick a fight with him if he wants to grieve. If it happens, he'll be the one picking the fight with me." Alan hesitated, and looked up cautiously at Poppy. "May I visit Harry?"

Poppy nodded, and turned to circle the bed to check on Neville. "Yes, you may visit him but if he's asleep don't rouse him. And don't make too much noise; James is sedated and needs to remain there a few more days."

"Something tells me the sedative is more to keep him in the hospital wing than to help him heal."

Poppy sniffed. "Rest is essential to any healing." She cracked a small smile. "But yes, in this case it's more to keep him in place. So don't wake him. And you, Mr. Longbottom, should be fine to leave as well if you feel up to it."

Neville shrugged, and lay back in the bed comfortably. "I'm thinking I'll stay here if Prince doesn't mind me occupying his bed. At least for another hour or so. Any chance of getting a book?"

Alan snorted. "I don't mind. Summon one off the shelf – I barely remember what all I keep in here." Alan eyed the bookshelf and snorted. "Mostly stuff I don't want to risk Drakey stealing. You might like the compare/contrast book compiled by the Bakers I got recently. It's some Brit arguing that the European innovations of the last decade are better than the American."

Neville raised his eyebrow, and Alan shrugged. "It's basically the one-upmanship game in writing. Personally, I think the Brits have done very well and gotten a lot more practical stuff done," Alan winked, "but then again, I just might be feeling particularly British recently."

Neville summoned the book in question, and gave Alan a despairing look. "A Brit with that kind of an accent … that's just preposterous, Alan. You sound way too American." Neville flipped the book open, and blinked. "Is it just me, or are there a disproportionate number of Alfaerus on the American side of the list?"

"It's only the first page, really. It's a long book, and listed alphabetically. It's just a large family, is all, and none of them are practical. You won't notice by looking, but a lot of the Brits are Hodges and their affiliates in turn."

"'The Modern Possibilities of Sixth Century Magical Petticoat Starch" Neville read out. "Impractical, I'll say. Just a little."

Alan shrugged, "Nicholas Harper's essay is certainly worth checking out," and turned to regard his closet for the day, wondering just how out of it he was to have completely missed Poppy's exit. He was very distracted. Self-preservation told him to find one of his coterie before wandering the halls; they usually didn't mind accompanying him, and he was a walking target with how tired he was. Why had Poppy given him leave? Probably because she knew how stubborn he was. Dressed in fresh clothes, Alan walked back out and smiled at Neville, saluting the distracted bookworm and walking out without waiting for him to notice. He was already absorbed in the book.

The dungeons didn't faze Alan at all, and most fortuitously, he walked into the common room and found his group right off. They also found him, and he was immediately enveloped in a hug from Stephanie and her friends – apparently hiding their allegiance wasn't a concern anymore. Behind them came a worried Theodore and Tracey. Suspiciously absent were Lucille and Salvador. Alan pulled free from the hugs and realized he couldn't find Dillan either. Alan tilted his head at Tracey, who shrugged stiffly – she was hiding something.

"Tracey, where's Pupp and the Bakers?"

Tracey looked away, and Morgan answered, "Lucille is having a talk with Salvador in some corner of the dungeons, and Dillan left early this morning without a word. Haven't seen either of them. I presume you know where Blaise is?"

Alan nodded. "Blaise is still catnapping in my dad's quarters with his ginger. I just needed to make a trip up to visit Harry, and wanted a bit of backup. I'm still feeling a tad faint, and Pomfrey didn't see the point in trying to keep me down."

Tracey rolled her eyes immediately. "Smart woman. C'mon, Theodore. Let's go tail the little snakehead. Lead on, Lord and Master." She bowed deeply and mocked. Alan stuck his tongue out at her, and opened the common room door, bowing Tracey out in turn. She laughed again, and Theodore followed her with an exasperated look. Alan wondered just how much longer he'd put up with her, and then shrugged and caught up with the two of them. It was Theodore's choice.

Getting to the hospital wing was uneventful, and Alan waved Tracey and Theodore off to go find a broom closet nearby while he wandered inside. Poppy looked up at his approach, and pointed curtly to the first curtained off bed, her attention returning with hardly a change to the files she was flipping through. Alan walked over and brushed them open. He was disappointed to find Harry asleep.

Alan huffed. Admittedly, Harry did look much better, and the turnaround was better than he could have expected. Very few of them were badly injured. Alan hadn't heard the consensus on Luna, Ginny, or Blaise, but apparently none of them were suffering anything life threatening. James, Harry, and Regulus … Alan's chest hurt at the thought of Regulus. He didn't want to think about it; it hurt. He felt so helpless.

Alan turned and left the Hospital wing quickly, stalking around the corner and down the hall, heading up towards the Gryffindor common room. He needed to talk to somebody, preferably somebody with something to tell him. He hoped the twins were in the common room, or someone. Alan knocked on the Fat Lady and waited. Several moments later, a curious second year pushed it open and squeaked.

"What are you doing here?" His eyes were practically popping out of his face.

"I'm looking for either the Weasley twins or Melanie Longbottom. Or Nanna Potter. Are any of them in?"

"And what if they don't want to talk to you?" The second year was apparently trying to be brave. Alan didn't have any patience for it.

"Look, I'm being polite." Alan snapped. "I could just push past you. Either get one of the people in question and let them deal with the question of whether they want to talk to some damn Slytherin or not, or I will find my way in there. Capiche?"

The boy paled and looked like he was trying to think of a way to put him down when suddenly Melanie showed up behind him and glared. "Hey, Jimmy, scat. Alan, what are you doing here?"

Alan struggled with the answer for a long moment, and then shrugged helplessly. "Looking for someone to talk to. I was just cleared by the dragon, and was looking for an answer as to how everything went back here."

Melanie smiled slightly. "Alright. Nanna's out anyways, and Romilda is getting overwhelming." She slipped out of the portrait hole and then shut it. "Password's 'Trinket' for this week, you know."

"Why Melanie, sharing Gryffindor secrets are we?" Alan teased. He waited a moment, and then started walking slowly down the halls, Melanie easily keeping pace.

"You're Gryffindor enough."

Alan scoffed. "The Sorting Hat didn't even consider putting me in Gryffindor for a moment."

"That's because you're stubborn, and you've got that bloodline problem." Melanie returned. "It's just unfortunate. Besides, you wanted to know what went down here, anyways."

Alan nodded silently, waiting expectantly. Melanie took a moment to think, and then began.

"Well, it was a bit of a mess just after you left – apparently everyone was going on about you running away and taking out Draco in the Entrance Hall. Umbridge was furious, but when she went back to her office to find some things, your backup kicked in – Jonas had sealed off her office, and something was smashing everything up." Melanie smiled in remembrance. "So she turned to find somewhere else, but the twins had heard of her little fit, and trapped her – they set off another swamp on one side, and a box of fireworks on another. After that, they got to work and created a huge gauntlet from there on through the entire floor, and turned the staircases up into slides, and the staircases down were littered with traps. The school was trapped in an outright standstill. Down in Slytherin, a huge fight broke out between the two factions – curses everywhere. Everyone else took off into hiding. Most of Ravenclaw went to the library or their common room and didn't come out, same with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. The secret passages were still good, save the most obvious, so there was a bit of traffic. It's a good thing all the OWLs and NEWTs were over."

"The Twins were in detention when we got back." Alan observed. "Though that sounds like something that was a right pity to miss."

Melanie shrugged. "If you want to encounter chaos incarnate, I suppose it was enthralling."

Alan shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his discomfort. "Can't be worse than Voldemort and twelve Death Eaters."

Melanie shuddered. "I can't believe you walked into that."

"Quite literally." Alan quipped; feeling tired himself just remembering. "So, how did it all fall apart?"

"Umbridge slogged through the swamp, and forced her way through the halls. The Inquisitorial Squad had gotten kicked out of the Slytherin dorms eventually, and turned on Fred and George, eventually cornering them after running a gauntlet of the twins and supportive students. By about that time, Umbridge was out, and Filch was practically bald from all the hair-pulling fits he'd gone into. You know, I heard that Dumbledore might be firing Filch after this."

Alan shuddered and shrugged, even though his blood was burning. God, he hoped Dumbledore fired him. He'd mention it to Geoffrey; maybe he could put on a bit of pressure to make it happen. "Melanie, you never got detention did you?"

"Hell no." She shook her head vigorously. "Neville would have done something stupid. I kept Nanna out of it, too, which was a job and a half."

"Thank you."

Melanie turned and looked at him again. "How is everyone? Lily came and spoke to Nanna early this morning, and I got news of my parents, but I stayed here …" She was clearly uncomfortable about it, but Alan couldn't imagine why. "Lily wasn't offering any details, and neither was McGonagall after I said I didn't want to leave yet. Apparently my mum and dad are still out; Connor's staying with Ginger."

Alan shrugged, unconcerned about addressing Melanie's clear personal discomfort. "Neville's downstairs and fine; so are Ginny and Blaise, last I heard. Harry's still out cold in the hospital wing, and so is James. Lily also is doing fine. Nobody is in danger of dying." Although Alan was still suspicious about just how fine a difference that was. It was curious that no one was apparently suffering long-term effects. It could just be good luck, but right now Alan didn't want to be betting on that. He hadn't been all that attentive when Pomfrey was treating everyone else.

He came to a stop in the hallway, and looked around. He didn't know where he was, and also didn't quite care. Melanie was nodding carefully.

"Where is everyone that you know about?"

"Fred and George disappeared towards the dungeons; I suspect they might be remaking some of the stores they used. Jonas took them aside again; I don't have the faintest clue what he's on about with that, but they're not looking worried." Melanie fixed Alan with a glare as though putting the blame on him. "I've heard nothing but trouble about him, you know. Luna doesn't have much to say about him because he always ignored her, but everyone else doesn't have one word of good to say. He's a bully and a cheat, and he doesn't like anyone and no one likes him either."

Alan snorted. "I've heard nothing good about him either, and I hear from Dillan who's lived with him. Jonas is a liar and a cheat, but he's powerful, clever, and skilled; he'd make an excellent politician, really."

Melanie snorted. "Okay, Alan. So, why are you here anyways? You don't usually seek me out."

Alan shrugged. "Nobody else to talk to. Do you want to swing by the Hospital wing to see if Harry's awake, or would you rather visit Neville? He's staying in bed, reading a book full of essays I have. I can't remember who published it, but they were arguing if the Brits had more ideas than the Americans this past decade."

"Who won?" Melanie asked.

Alan flashed her a smile. "His opinion was that the Brits were more useful, naturally. He was British."

"And yours?"

Alan put his fingers to his lip. "I agree. Despite a full fifth of the American essays being from the Alfaerus."

Melanie gaped. "A full fifth?"

Alan shrugged. "It only highlighted one hundred essays from each country. Nineteen of the American ones were by Alfaerus; three others were by cousins. Mind, the family is quite large, and a lot of them live locked in some tower or other trying to figure some odd thing out. They had to cut some corners, obviously, so they may have chosen Alfaerus works on purpose. Those tend to be a little frivolous. Hey, do you want to visit Neville or no?"

"Neville." Melanie nodded, starting walking down the hall, Alan following. "And what do you mean, frivolous?"

"Like, modern uses for magical petticoat starch frivolous."

Melanie blinked. "What?"

"That's my point. Strangely enough, that one was done by Autumn, my aunt."

"Who puts an essay like that in a book trying to showcase talent?"

Alan snickered. "I strongly suspect the person who published it wasn't being entirely professional, but it makes for a very interesting read, particularly Nicholas Harper's 'Varied Uses of Acromantula Silk'"

Melanie blinked at him. "How's that interesting? Can you make clothes out of it?"

Alan looked sidelong at Melanie, and decided to answer succinctly, "With much difficulty, yes." But the essay certainly didn't cover that.

"Weird that a guy wrote that." Melanie looked forward again. Alan schooled his face blank and didn't correct her.

The talk was pretty banal the rest of the way down the school. A few people paused and stared at them, but most of the students were uninterested in the various rumours floating around and were either indifferent, or distracted. Alan was grateful. The surveillance in the Ministry would probably be referenced and verified soon enough, and then the papers would be shrieking either for his blood, or, possibly, singing his praises. He wasn't sure which would be more aggravating, but he didn't have to deal with it right now. They returned to Severus' quarters unhindered.

Alan let Melanie in before him, politely, and then stepped into the doorway and ducked – Tracey's shoe flew over his head. She summoned it back, and it thumped into his leg before skirting it and flying back to her hands.

"Where the Hell did you get off to, Alan?" Tracey shrieked. "You ask us to accompany you, and ditch us at the first turn! What gives, you –" Theodore corked her up before she could start swearing, but he, too, was frowning at Alan. Blaise, seated still with Ginny in his lap, wasn't looking much happier. Ginny, however, was ecstatic to see Melanie, and stood and pulled her into the couch immediately, regaling her with tales of her daring. Blaise didn't rise, something that concerned Alan immediately. He walked over and frowned.

"What gives, Blaise? Usually you'd be wrestling me to the floor."

"Poppy may be an excellent healer, but Death Eaters are creative." Blaise groused. "I'm still healing and not allowed to stand. It should run its course by this evening, but still."

Alan didn't speak for a long moment, and Blaise frowned at him. "Hey, don't you dare go Gryffindor on me."

"What, I'm not allowed to be upset if I dragged you into danger?" Alan snapped.

"No, you're not." Blaise firmly returned. "Because you're first, deluding yourself, and second, forgetting that we did better than some Aurors and lastly, just because you wanted to go didn't mean I couldn't have kept you back. I went because I wanted to, I accepted the risk, and I'm dealing with it. If you start getting choked up about it, I'll have Lucille sit on you."

"Gee, thanks." Alan growled. However, it had helped. He was now more pissed off at Blaise than he was sympathetic. "How many other injuries am I clueless about that Poppy decided to lie to me about?"

"None that I know. I think Poppy didn't honestly share everyone's condition on purpose to prevent such a Gryffindor reaction."

"Meddlesome bint." Alan growled. Someone's shoe collided with his head, and Alan turned and straightened with a snarl, "Which of you goddamn whores threw your damn shoe at me? I've had enough of that!"

Ginny stood, fire in her eyes. "You do not call me a whore, Alan! I don't care how pissed off you are-"

"I'd noticed. You don't care about anybody but your boyfriend, do you?"

"You're just being sour because you have to control everything!"

"I don't control anybody, in case you hadn't noticed you horrible little-"

"As if you're any better, strutting around like you own the place, typical Slytherin-"

"Haven't noticed you're dating one, have you, you confused Gryffindor-"

"Shut - Up!"

Alan and Ginny slammed their mouths shut and straightened. Melanie calmed from her scream and stalked between the two of them. She turned and pushed Ginny's shoe into her chest hard enough to knock her back onto the couch, snarling, "Sit!" She then turned to Alan, her eyes hard and dark. After several moments of contemplation, during which Alan wasn't sure what to think, Melanie huffed, and then drew back and slapped him.

Alan almost lost his balance; he staggered, barely catching himself, and then straightening, feeling more astonished than angry. It didn't last; his face closed and he felt cold coil in the pit of his stomach. Melanie looked taken aback, but stubbornly she pressed on, her voice quiet.

"You're acting like a spoiled brat. You were out of line." She pointed out quietly, half-whispering. The room was dead silent. "I don't care how overwrought you are, I don't want to be called a whore. If you're upset, you're supposed to be old enough to deal with it. Don't take it out on me and my friends."

Alan tilted his head to the side, still regarding her coldly. "And why should I care if I offend your delicate sensibilities? I hadn't thought you were a timid little mouse, Miss Longbottom."

Theodore's face tightened; behind him, Blaise grunted quietly.

"Tell me," He asked carefully, carelessly, "what's stopping me from paying you back for that slap?" Distantly, the cold he was feeling frightened him. He ignored it.

"I am."

Alan snapped back to attention, the distance fleeing. His eyes flicked up to the door to his bedroom, and Alan turned more fully to face the doorframe. Neville was leaning against the wood, clearly exhausted, his face lined with pain, but he was staring at Alan with intense eyes, and he wasn't the least intimidated by Alan's still cold face.

A smirk twitched across Alan's features. "You're barely standing." He pointed out lightly.

"Oh, I know I couldn't do jack shit to you right now." Neville responded lightly. "However, I also know you wouldn't dare harm me, and I'm reminding you by extension that you shouldn't harm my little sister. Nor her friends. So sheath those fangs and grow up."

"And you don't care that I got you into that situation?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "First, you let me get revenge on Bellatrix so why are you sorry, and second, as Blaise pointed out, none of us are weaklings. We're all the same as you – powerful children. We're stupid, but we're not dumb. We can make our own choices, and if we wanted to choose otherwise, we'd have told you to fuck off and/or sat on you if we thought you needed it. So stop whinging about it." Neville turned his head to regard the bed again and sighed. "Can a few of you help me get back to being horizontal before Poppy comes in and castrates me?"

Theodore and Tracey gave strained laughs, and Alan, feeling scolded, walked over to brace Neville as he pushed off the door. Melanie came up on his other side, just tall enough for him to brace against her shoulders. With Alan holding him around the chest, and the crutch of his sister, Neville weakly made his way back to the bed. Alan grunted as he levered him down.

"You weren't anywhere near this bad when we came in; Hell, you were fine when I woke up, or seemed to be."

"Shock, and delayed effects. You think that bitch didn't think of everything?" Neville groused. "And Poppy made a mistake – something of what she did reacted badly with one of the spells and set off a reaction. Not to mention I'm dog ass tired from using a few spells I, well, shouldn't have."

Neville wouldn't look at him, and Alan frowned. "What kinda spells were those?" He didn't get an answer, but Neville glared down at Melanie.

"Mel, go make sure Ginny's okay."

Melanie looked mutinous for a moment, glanced between Alan and Neville, and then stalked out of the room like an angry cat. "I'm coming back, you know, but you can have your few minutes of boy-talk."

Neville rolled his eyes, and Alan smiled wryly, looking down at Harry's 'brother'. Neville still refused to look at him, and Alan finally prompted him, "Well?"

"I didn't really want to talk; I just wanted to make sure Ginny was okay."

Alan rolled his eyes. "Okay, say I believe you. What might I pry out of you in the moments whilst Melanie is away? What dirty little secrets are you hiding? I have very rarely heard of spells taxing someone's strength that badly."

Neville shrugged. "This isn't that, or not just that. Most of it is the bad reaction, part of it is lingering spell damage that was held at bay with adrenaline, but … I am mildly exhausted, and so the healing is taking longer because my body can't give it any little boost."

"Okay …" Alan drawled. "That still doesn't answer the question. The number of spells that damn taxing is pretty limited. There's a few innovations, like large scale conjuring, keeping up a spell for a long time, or something all encompassing and violent, like maybe an … Unforgivable …" Alan stared long and hard, and Neville's face firmed into a mask. "I presume you didn't mention it?"

"Mention what? You mean that I cast a highly illegal spell that would land me in Azkaban whether I was goaded into it or not?" Neville snorted. "Course I didn't." His tone was mocking. "I only cast several large, overpowered spells like Geoffrey taught me to. I did, actually. I just … they weren't the only spells I cast. She pissed me off; I tried, failed, and after she goaded me, I tried again and the bitch was shocked as Hell that I didn't fail again. And I shouldn't even be telling you this; damn it all."

Neville was clearly off-centre. He wasn't able to focus on Alan, either through shame or distraction, and was constantly fidgeting. Alan hoped it was just the potions doping him up, and not a spell effect or mental instability. He kicked himself as soon as he thought it – like he himself was a shining column of stability on his own. He's just made the classic mistake of cussing at women in their presence, knowing they'd over- er, react. He wasn't normally that air headed. Quietly, he sat on the edge of the bed, and smiled gently at Neville, nodding once in understanding, and then smiling falsely.

"You enjoy that book full of essays?"

"I never thought of using Acromantula silk for that." Neville returned dryly. "Many fascinating tests. How did he talk the subjects into it?"

"He goaded them into it." Alan returned. "Velorian was one of the subjects, you know. He knows Nicholas Harper."

Neville raised his eyebrow. "Which one was him?"

Alan grinned. "Bungee."

Neville roared with laughter. Melanie poked her head back in and frowned.

"Now what?"

Alan gave her an innocent look. "I didn't do it. He found something amusing to read and is enjoying the part. I'm sure he wouldn't mind telling you all about it."

"Oi!" Neville barked. "I am so not sharing half of those with my little sister!"

"It's alright." Alan smiled. "She thinks the article was about Acromantula silk as viable cloth."

Neville glanced at him, curious. "Is it?"

"Labour intensive getting it clean." Alan smiled. "But stronger than steel and infinitely pliable. However, Nicholas wasn't the least interested in that function."

"I'd say not. He reminds me of Jonas."

Alan smiled enigmatically and left, ignoring Neville calling indignantly after him.

IIII

Alan wandered for the rest of the day, and eventually collapsed into his bed and fell asleep. The next morning, he was awake early, and found on his bedside table a letter addressed to him from Dumbledore. It requested his presence in his office immediately, and Alan had taken five minutes of staring blankly at the wall before he finally gave in and went. He didn't want to talk to the old man, but he had too many questions. Geoffrey was his uncle, but he was careless man at times and uninitiated in the war. Severus was his father, but the connection was almost in name alone – they'd never become close. Harry and Blaise were too young, and, while he probably would have tried Andrew were he awake, Andrew was too young as well. Regulus, his normal confidante … it was too painful to think of. Dumbledore knew the war, he knew Voldemort, and if anyone could tell him more about the nuances of prophecy, Dumbledore would be the best bet out of all of them.

It didn't mean he rode up the stairs in a good mood, though. When Dumbledore called him through the door, Alan's face was set in a scowl, and Dumbledore noticed immediately. He looked torn, and then straightened. Alan was surprised to see the grandfatherly figure disappear, and an official looking advisor emerge. This Dumbledore could lead a war, could fight. Alan felt a little twinge that he hadn't actually watched him fight – it would probably have been spectacular. However, his focus had remained upon his friends, and getting them out alive. Dumbledore had agreed when they'd passed by each other; curiosity was not something to die for.

"Alan, would you like to sit?"

Alan considered it a moment, but gave in without waiting for his consideration to finish. His face was stony, and no amount of effort relaxed it. Dumbledore waited a moment, and then spoke.

"The few recordings the Ministry have remaining have been reviewed. The atrium, Death Chamber, and the areas directly between were disabled, but in the other rooms, the recordings were unmolested and accurate. Thus, alongside the additional testimony of Velorian Mayfair, the Minister has rescinded his insistence that a false alarm was raised, and the scramble to renege and pick up the flag of warning has begun. The short fight Harry fought against Voldemort amidst the brains was caught, as well as your and Auror Potter's intervention, and the Auror's subsequent fight until it returned to the Death Chamber. Reporters are clamouring to speak with you." Dumbledore watched him over his spectacles, but Alan refused to speak up until asked. "I'm sure you can imagine the confusion we are under, with so few rooms available for reference of what must have been a great battle. Your meeting with Voldemort is shrouded in mystery. The Death Eaters taken alive have little to say; quite a number are dead, and some deaths are unaccounted for. I would ask if you would share your part of the story with me, Alan, as much of what ensued was driven by your actions."

Alan nodded hesitantly. "I do owe you, don't I?" He admitted quietly. It was satisfying to see Dumbledore hide a startled expression; he was unable to change the very curious look that descended upon him. Alan looked away shortly thereafter. He still hated how that had all played out. "In the History OWL, I had a headache. I suspected it was from the fight the night before – two hours sleep on stress is not relaxing. Apparently, however, it also degraded my Occlumency again. Halfway through, Voldemort forced a short image into my mind of Regulus, tortured. He then demanded I meet him in the Department of Mysteries to return his locket in exchange for Regulus' life. I – I couldn't …" Alan glanced up at Dumbledore again, feeling helplessly conflicted and hating it. "Regulus was … the person closest to me. Sure, Geoffrey and Ginger helped raise me, but Regulus was …"

"I understand." Dumbledore reassured him. Alan swallowed and looked away again. Good, he didn't have to bumble through that again; Dumbledore apparently didn't even understand the struggle – it would have been so much smarter for him to merely ignore the vision, everything was screaming he should have now that it was over, but … he couldn't leave Regulus.

"I responded – I don't really understand it. I could … feel the connection he'd forged, could tell he was actively influencing me, and I 'talked' back. We basically agreed, and I pushed him out and tried to seal the hole again."

Dumbledore was watching him curiously. "So you're saying you have layered Occlumency? I believe Americans have labelled it the 'Plane'."

Alan looked at him, confused.

"You're shields give the apparent image that your mind is unprotected, or minimally protected, but between your deepest thoughts and your superficial concerns, is a barrier that is hidden as something innocuous." Dumbledore explained. "I'll presume this invasion was set deeper in your mind?"

Alan didn't want to outright admit it to the Headmaster, but, reluctantly, he nodded. Dumbledore smiled lightly, and leaned back. "Continue, then. I'm sorry; my academic interest was piqued. I'll refrain from interrupting again."

Alan sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "I left the exam – I was doing terrible anyways. Madam Pomfrey gave me a calming draught, and confirmed there were no Order members in the school – McGonagall had been attacked the night before. I tried to get someone using my mirrors, but only Lyall answered. She confirmed everyone was at the Embassy and …" Alan swore, and stood, furious with himself. Lyall! The stupid, idiotic presumption!

"Alan?"

"I was stupid." Alan forced himself back into the chair. "Lyall could've contacted the Embassy, couldn't she have?"

"Potentially." Dumbledore allowed. "However, during an active trial, which was what was going on, the defendants and their party are typically rather tied down, and it's frowned upon if they get up and leave in the middle of it. They possibly would have refused to even hear her out, much less pass the message through."

Alan waved it off. "I still should have tried. I can't believe I ignored that."

Dumbledore picked up one of his figurines, and nodded. "It was an oversight, but Alan. You forgot. And still, despite that, no one on our side has died. It was, despite all odds, a successful venture on your part."

"You don't know that. Regulus' condition is still unknown, and half my friends are still healing." Alan didn't want to remind himself that Dumbledore was right, that he'd done his best, and it had worked quite well for what he'd had to work with. He still didn't like it. "Anyways, after I tried everyone, and got the location from Lyall, I left a message with Adam at Grimmauld, and then went to talk everyone else into coming with me, so I wasn't going alone. I knew you'd destroyed the locket – you did, right? – so I had to fake it, and I think I did fairly well. I threatened him with a portkey on the string …" Alan ran his hand over his face again. "I never want to have to bluff like that again."

"Yes, the locket is destroyed." Dumbledore smiled. "Thank your father for the venom once more. It was invaluable. Also, I am most impressed with your planning so far, Alan."

Alan ducked his head, and then considered the next part. He was so not telling him he'd become an animagus. "I got everyone together and sent out the contingencies – the twins, Melanie, and Nanna, since Ginny refused to remain behind, and I could only realistically take so many. Not to mention various parties might throttle me for endangering them. After that, we left."

"I heard from several people, including your friend, Susan, that your leaving involved a short altercation with Draco."

Alan shrugged. "It's so common, I didn't feel it was news. We had to stun him, admittedly, and then ran out to the forest, but really. It wasn't surprising."

Dumbledore nodded. "Who all did you end up taking with you?"

Alan paused to think, counting off on his fingers. "Blaise and Luna, Neville, Harry, Ginny … and Salvador. That's it."

"Salvador Hopkins?" Dumbledore clarified. "I had heard you were friends with him, but was uncertain. His family has a very strict rule, do they not?"

Alan shrugged, nonchalantly. Perhaps the news hadn't found it's way up about Salvador's disownment, or at least not his adoption. "He does, but it hasn't stopped him. A lot of my friends are in similar situations."

"You seem very comfortable with most of them."

Alan finally met his eyes. "I told Blaise when I first was made his dorm-mate, that I would not be a stereotype. I was my own person, and damn the House reputation. If they couldn't take me on the qualities I was judged for, it wasn't my damn problem. Ever since, he's been working to be and remain my friend, on his own qualities." Alan's lips quirked. "Even if he does still tell the house elves to press my clothes, whether I like it or not."

Dumbledore regarded him with hooded eyes, a look that made Alan uncomfortable. He closed his face off, and nodded. "Please, continue."

Unnerved, Alan did so. "Out in the forest, there was a bit of a commotion but it didn't come near us, thank God. But …" Oh, how to play this … Mentally apologizing, Alan fabricated slightly. "It seemed to have already come by the place we were at. A deer had been injured, and ran towards the edge before dying. Luna, naturally," Alan's smile was genuine, "pointed it out after a few minutes, and there were thestrals nearby. There were enough to take us, possibly because of the commotion driving them out. I hope you don't mind." Alan ducked his head.

"Not in the slightest." Dumbledore smiled. "They get little enough exercise, I'm sure it wasn't the least inconvenient for them."

Alan shrugged it off, and continued. "We arrived in good time, the sun still up actually, and easily passed through the visitor's entrance. Or, I did. I went first, because of the possibility of Voldemort insisting upon escorting me. Neville had worked out necklaces for me and Harry, using the protean charm."

"A most advanced spell." Dumbledore murmured. "Truly, Neville is well beyond what could be expected of him, if he could only pull himself back from the edge of depression."

Alan shifted uncomfortably, and sighed. "Anyways, it worked quite well as an alert system, and I went down," Alan looked up and down again, "Using the mage sight spell, just to be cautious." Secrets galore, Alan groused. Can't say half the truth unless I want to give myself away. "There were six Death Eaters in the lobby; two approached and uncloaked themselves. They led me down the elevator, and to the Department of Mysteries. One of the invisible people joined us in the lift – they held onto me through the trip to keep me from running into him, I suspect. As we went down the hall, the lift started up again, and the other three came down as well. I think …" Alan turned the idea over in his head and looked quietly up at Dumbledore. "I think Voldemort was putting on a show, you know? They hurried me past a point and the sound was cut off."

Dumbledore, noticing his attention, considered the matter for several moments. "I suspect it is very possible, although I cannot yet say for sure. I would not discount the possibility. If you would continue? I will keep it in mind. Perhaps his later behaviour would be more telling."

Alan nodded carefully, and moved on. "The second lift's occupants joined us in that round room, and then we went on into the Death Chamber, the invisible Death Eaters going first as the others delayed me. When I entered, none of them were invisible anymore. There were twelve, including the two who had escorted me in. I didn't make an effort to recognize any of them. They were arrayed around the walls, mostly by the doors and Voldemort was in the middle, down at the bottom, sitting on a conjured throne by the veil. Regulus was just off to the side, still on the dais, held by a Death Eater. I was escorted down, and then he was told to stand at the bottom of the stairs. And, well, we talked." Alan awkwardly finished.

Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling, but he sound amused when he prompted, "What about?"

Alan shot him a dirty look. "Not much. He mentioned his appreciation of the Department of Mysteries and showed off the veil. I got drawn in by it, and only stopped when he put his foot on my chest – did you know he wears black silk slippers? They look ridiculous."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Indeed? I myself enjoy wearing silk slippers, although black is not one of my preferred colours. However, I more enjoy socks, or shoes with buckles."

Alan just eyed him warily. "Still, the … conversation." Alan took a deep breath. "After he showed me the veil, he asked if I knew what was in the Department of Mysteries. I didn't; I honestly never knew the place existed, so why would I wonder about it? He produced a glass sphere; he'd been playing with it when I came in." Alan watched, and felt his chest tighten as Dumbledore's face went cold. "You know what it was, don't you? You know."

Dumbledore lowered his head. "I believe I do. Did you …"

"He broke it. He put up a ward and broke it. You know the whole prophecy, don't you, and you must've known for some time. More than just what my father knew." Alan asked, keeping his anger out of his voice. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you never mention the whole of it, to me, or to Harry or Neville? We all fit the criteria, you know." Alan asked. "Why never mention it? Why never bring it up with me, when you learned so much more about it, when it was clear I considered myself a match to it? I presume you would have corrected me if I was wrong?"

"I thought you somehow knew." Dumbledore hedged.

"It's not hard to guess what it means." Alan snapped, "I never even thought there was more to it. I thought I knew it all; foolishly, but I thought it."

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and looked up again. "What prophecy did you hear, to ensure they are the same?"

Alan thought back to it, and struggled to put the words together. Fortunately, the words had a flow to them. He'd been dwelling on them, honestly. "'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.' I think it repeats itself somewhat again, but that's it. Is it the one?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I must ask, what was his reaction?"

Alan shrugged awkwardly, remembering. "Shock. He was startled, a little scared I presume, but then again I was scared shitless at the moment, and convinced he was going to fly off the handle. I was as surprised as you are that he took it so well. He was … impressed, I think. He … he started talking about my strengths. Asked me to join him again." Alan looked up, suspicious now. "He said I reminded him of himself. The 'perfect Slytherin.' You called me that yourself once."

"I will admit you and Tom Riddle are very nearly two of a kind, Alan." Dumbledore answered. "You are charismatic, powerful, a natural leader capable of invoking devotion in a group, creating loyalty with little overt reward and promises of greatness. Even in looks, you are alike – tall, strong, dark haired and eyed, handsome. It was a great concern of mine, I will admit."

"Is that only because you're afraid of me hating you?" Alan spat. "Scared honest?"

"In part, yes." Dumbledore met his gaze without flinching, and Alan reigned in his anger again. "You and Harry both distrust me, I know, as does Neville. You three are some of my strongest students. Harry and Neville's parents trust me implicitly, and you, as children, do not. It is most disconcerting, as all three of you also have powerful Occlumency shields. I cannot even gain access to Neville's superficial thoughts, unlike you and Harry, not unless I wished to break his shields and what little trust he has in me with them. Naturally, I am mildly afraid if you might choose the path Voldemort walked, because you will take a large number of powerful, intelligent people with you, possibly including your only equal year mate, Harry, and through him, far more. You ask if I am scared of you?" Dumbledore folded his hands on his desk, watching him, speaking as though he was an equal, not a child, and also, as though he were as dangerous as he kept calling him, as much as Dumbledore would ever consider someone dangerous. "In a way I am. Although I know my knowledge exceeds yours, and by sheer power we are equal, you have a frightening potential still vulnerable to impression, despite your most admirable upbringing instilling such self-confidence, self-reliance, and maturity. However, that upbringing also leads me to know that if I try and hold onto you, you will only cut yourself off."

"I am not a weapon, to be used at your convenience." Alan growled.

"Precisely." Dumbledore nodded, smiling. The incongruity defused him again. "And it is a relief to be able to speak to you frankly, even as I mourn that you cannot simply enjoy your life."

Alan knitted his brow and frowned at Dumbledore. The man was a walking conundrum. Admittedly, he was handling this very well, and Alan couldn't find reason or grounds to throw away anything he was saying. He was manipulating him with the most unlikely combination of frankness and truth, and while Alan appreciated it, he couldn't help but feel manipulated anyways. He'd have to work it over again sometime, but for now … for now, he could trust him. He needed to, because no matter what Dumbledore said, Alan was still young and he needed an adult right now.

"So what does the prophecy mean, beyond the obvious?" Alan asked.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, and the smile left, his features blanking into no reaction. "The prophecy. I'm sure you understand the nebulous nature of such things? How they may or may not be true, or have merit." Alan nodded impatiently. "Well, if we pass that and believe it true, then it states the identifying characteristics of a child who will become the one with the power to destroy Voldemort."

"I presume the mark is what made it clear which of us was the one?" Alan asked carefully. "I'd thought so from what I knew previously, even without that line." Alan smirked. "As I said to Voldemort, the rest of the prophecy wasn't exactly surprising."

"No, it is not." Dumbledore smiled. "But it is still important. Yes, the mark sets you apart from Neville and Harry. When is your birthday?"

"Sometime after midnight, Aug first. Regulus had it memorized, that it was midnight."

"A very fine line, indeed. Your mother, Amber?"

"Threw acid in the face of one Tom Marvolo Riddle who kept proposing they 'continue Salazar's noble line'. She had no intention of having a child, much less with a self-deluded monster, if Regulus remembered her words correctly." Alan shrugged. "And no, I have no clue about Severus', or why they even had me."

Dumbledore took his glasses off to clean them, and put them back on before continuing. "I knew the mark as soon as I saw it this Christmas, when you came in with news about Arthur Weasley, but it was masked with magic. Do you purposefully hide it?"

"No." Alan admitted quietly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to … "It … My eye is … actually blind." Alan said quietly. Dumbledore immediately fixed him with an intent stare. "My magic compensates without conscious direction. It hides the mark, restores my sight …" Alan looked up and then down, and then quickly admitted, "The excess magic allows me to sort of see magic, too. It looks like a heat haze when there are spells about. I … I didn't use a magic seeing spell when I saw the invisible Death Eaters in the atrium. But sometimes it doesn't work, because I can't see any haze when Harry uses his invisibility cloak, although for most others I can."

Dumbledore straightened his glasses and nodded slowly. "Harry's cloak is a unique item. I am not surprised you cannot see the magic in it. As for the reaction, it is most curious. I presume the Alfaerus have also expressed a similar interest?"

Alan grimaced. "If you want to test it, ask the Alfaerus for their papers on it first before you start asking permission. I have better things to do than play guinea pig when most everything's already been tried."

"Naturally. And despite the interest, that is not the topic this evening, even if it is a most fascinating magical phenomenon. I don't suppose I need to tell you that the mark is also a connection between you and Voldemort?" Alan shook his head, remembering painfully the invasion he'd suffered. No, it didn't need brought up at all. "I thought not, as you seem to have experienced that. Without Occlumency, you would be far weaker, and very vulnerable."

Alan rubbed his forehead. "Would you cut to the chase already? I've about had it with your blathering."

"Very well." Dumbledore sat back carefully in his chair and regarded Alan with narrowed eyes. "I'm sure you already know the only thing I can tell you. It's in the last part of the prophecy, the one I'm sure both you and Voldemort were entranced by."

Alan glared up at him. He was hoping he'd misheard, but apparently Dumbledore wasn't going to bring some far-fetched misinterpretation out of his ass. "So it's me, or him. One of us is going to die."

"More specific even than that, Alan." Dumbledore gently scolded.

Alan rubbed his eye. "I don't get it."

"Not only do the two of you need die, it must be at the hand of the other. You must kill Voldemort, and he must kill you."

Alan turned aside and stood up abruptly. "I don't want to have to kill, but I'm not going to die. I'll kill him easy enough, but if that's all you have to say …" Alan left it open, clearly goading the teacher into saying more.

Dumbledore didn't take it. He'd looked down at his desk, sadly regarding the woodwork, and then nodding slowly. "That is all, Alan. If you like, Harry is awake now. He would probably enjoy speaking to you."

Alan blinked at the consideration. "Thank you. I will. And … thank you." Awkwardly, Alan waited to see if Dumbledore would acknowledge it, but after a minute of him almost determinedly focusing on something else, Alan turned and left back down the winding steps, unsure about his choices and frustrated with the future.

A/N: The last chapter of fifth year! Alan and Dumbledore finally outright just talk, and the butcher's bill of the fight. So, do you lovely people want the next chapter in a week, or two? Hm, which should it be? I'd love to hear what you think, about that and the story! Any thoughts on the story are welcome.

Fire & Napalm