Chapter 14

Shit.

Neville Longbottom was in shock.

It seemed to be a state with which he had become very intimately acquainted, in the past five years of his life, just usually not so soon in the year.

Or quite so publicly.

How, in the name of Merlin's saggy balls, had this happened?

Maybe if he tried logically reasoning this out like Hermione he'd get the answer...

Right. So.

He'd woken up this morning- normally. Not screaming or anything like that. So nothing strange there.

Then he'd showered, gotten dressed. Pretty damn normal.

Breakfast had been a bit interesting, since he'd drooled over that Veela girl, though not quite as much as Ron.

Classes had been normal, with Snape being a snarky git and Potter irritating him with his very existence and Malfoy snickering at one of Snape's more creative insults.

But the funny thing was that when he melted his cauldron, Potter had merely given his a strangely thoughtful look instead of his usual contemptuous one.

But Potter was under age too wasn't he?

Then again, he was a sneaky, slimy Slytherin. He might have found a way to get around it.

Lunch had been a bit weird because he'd heard someone yelling and cursing in French, but when he'd looked down the corridor it had come from he hadn't seen anyone...

And yes, he knew French.

He was terrible at potions, but he had quite a knack for languages.

Which, admittedly wasn't as glamorous, but it was still quite a knack. And he'd hoped it would be enough to get him a date with a pretty French girl.

He finally made it to the room with all the other champions, and the Veela girl (what was her name again? Fair? Flair? Fleur? Yes- that was it! Fleur!) flipped her hair and gave him a contemptuous look.

"Well, boy. Are you 'ere to come and fetch us? And where eez your champion?"

"I... uh... that is to say... Me." He sputtered.

Smooth Longbottom. Really smooth.

Was it a bad thing that his inner voice was sounding a lot like Malfoy these days?

The girl frowned at him. "I do not speak idiot- speet eet out boy!"

Neville was saved from answering (and making a fool of himself again) by the opening and closing of the door behind him.

Fleur looked behind him, her eyes growing wide and stabbed an accusatory finger at the space behind him.

"YOU!" She spat, not looking in the least bit happy.

Why would she be unhappy to see the true Hogwarts champion?

Neville turned around- only to find himself looking at Harry fucking Potter.

"Oi! What are you doing here?" He demanded, all his previous confusion leaving at the sight of this infuriating boy.

Potter simply gave him a baleful glare and headed towards a pillar in the shadows, leaning against it and pointedly ignoring the French girl's furious indignation at seeing him.

Hm. That was a weird reaction to have towards someone you didn't know.

It really was a reaction Potter needed to create in you.

Like Snape.

Except more quiet.

The doors opened once more, and this time Crouch and his cronies, along with Dumbledore and Snape.

"This is an outrage Dumbledore!" Crouch was saying.

Dumbledore merely turned to him with an incredibly serene look on his face. "Now, now. No need to be so upset..."

"There is a need Dumbledore! This cannot stand! Two fifteen year old boys?"

Karkaroff decided to put his own two knuts in at that. "Vot about two fifteen year old boys? Certainly vis cannot be your champions!"

"I agree! Zis eez preposterous!" Madame Maxime chimed in.

"Now, now. Let us all be calm..."

"How can we be calm about this Dumbledore? How? This goes against everything we arranged!" Crouch demanded in anger.

"We will accept it because we must. The moment a name enters the Goblet of Fire a magical contract is made between the person whose name is on the paper and the Goblet. Misters Longbottom and Potter must compete. The Laws of Magic dictate it."

"Inconceivable!" Karkaroff cried.

"Unacceptable!" Madame Maxime agreed.

"I don't think that means what you think it means, Karkaroff." Snape sneered.

"Everyone- calm down!" Dumbledore said. "There is nothing we can do about this! The Laws of Magic are very clear on this count."

"Well..." Blustered Crouch. "No, I don't suppose we can do anything about it."

"Indeed, Mister Crouch." Dumbledore turned and smiled at the other two heads, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. "This will hardly harm your chances of winning- after all, even if they are two, they are mere fifteen year olds."

There was a sort of grumble for Madame Maxime, and a snort from Karkaroff but neither seemed all that worried anymore.

Neville turned to look once more at Potter and found himself completely floored.

The look in Potter's eyes was one that Neville only saw when he was busy facing an enemy in a duel- it spoke of cold, calculating murderous intent.

Neville swallowed hard.

This was most definitely Not Good.

He turned back to Dumbledore who smiled at him. "Now, if you'll pardon me, I need to speak to Mister Longbottom..."

"Not so fast Headmaster! First we need a little photoshoot!" A woman with blonde hair and horn-rimmed bejewelled glasses announces as she steps into the room.

"Right then everyone! I need Mister Krum and Miss Delacour to stand there- right there in front of the fireplace yes! Right then, Mister Longbottom, stand in front of them- yes right there! Perfect!"

"What about Potter?" Neville asks, a mean smirk on his face.

After all, he knows Potter hates photographs. He's never even in the Quidditch team ones, always cutting and running whenever there's a camera on the scene.

"Mister who?" The woman seems confused, even as the entire room turns towards where Potter is trying to make an escape through the only doors.

Potter grimaces under the scrutiny.

Ha! Neville thinks viciously. I'm not going to suffer this alone, Potter. Now you'll see how hard it is to live with everyone's scrutiny always on you.

"Oh my! Yes, yes! It will be a rather lovely story! "Hogwarts' Two Under Age Champions"! Come here boy, come on, in that shot right there. Stand next to the lovely Miss Delacour- that way people won't notice how, ahem, aesthetically unappealing Mister Krum really is! Yes, yes, closer together now! Say "Krupp Puppies"!"

The flash was blinding and the woman kept badgering them all into poses. She tended to take photographs of Neville the most though.

Typical really, Neville thought wearily.

By the time Dumbledore finally said "Enough!" Neville was truly tired.

He needed a break, not some competition that could end up killing him.

Because, wouldn't that just be ironic? The Triwizard Tournament killing him after years of Voldemort trying to kill him.

Ha, bloody, ha.

Dumbledore seemed to pick up on his exhausted confusion and steered him out of the room and towards his office with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

When they finally made it inside the office (he wasn't deaf- he could hear the whispers) Dumbledore pressed some medicinal chocolate into his hand and encouraged him to eat it.

"Professor..." He finally ventured, after more than half the bar.

"Yes, Neville, my boy?"

"What just happened?"

"I was rather hoping you could tell me, honestly."

"I don't know! I didn't do it, Professor, I swear!"

"Alright, Neville. I believe you. But I feel it is important that you know that other people most likely won't."

"They never believe me, sir." Wow- was that his voice? It sounded so bitter.

"Neville, in life all we can do is live so that such rumours die." Dumbledore said, kindly gazing over his glasses at him.

"I know sir... I just... do you know what happened sir?"

"Neville, I like to believe that what happened, happened because it was the right thing to happen. You are a brave, strong, resourceful boy."

Neville didn't look him in the eyes at that. Obviously Dumbledore wasn't as omniscient as everyone thought.

"People believe in you Neville."

Oh really? Are they still going to believe in me after this? He thought bitterly.

"I believe in you Neville."

Well...

Shit.

BaB-HP-BaB

Harry scowled at the reporter's back.

He hated photographs- well. He hated photographs being taken of him. Bloody backstabbing Longbottom knew that too, it was the only reason he'd insisted on having Harry join them for the photographs.

Shit- what were Adrienne, Sabrina and Nanna going to think?

Snape made a jerking motion with his head and Harry followed him out. They walked in silence until they reached the portrait that guarded Snape's rooms.

Snape said the password (Bacchus) and promptly let Harry in.

Oh, this was not good.

The only times Snape let him into his rooms was when he was too injured to take care of it himself, and when they were having conversations no one was supposed to hear.

Harry could pretty much guess which one of the two was applicable here.

"Sit, Harry."

Harry threw himself onto the pink couch.

Snape, however, seemed to be quite intent on pacing on the carpet in an effort to put a hole in it. Harry remained quiet- it was never a good thing to interrupt his head of house's train of thoughts.

Finally the man seemed to tire himself out and threw himself into the wingback across from Harry.

"Well, this is a right bloody mess." Snape sighed.

Harry graced him with a look that clearly said 'No. Really? Could have fooled me!'.

"None of your attitude, Harry." The man said wearily. "This is bad."

Harry didn't even nod, because what would the use be?

"We need to find the spy."

And here Harry did nod, fervently.

"Yes, Harry, thank you so much for approving." Snape said dryly and Harry gave him a sheepish smile.

"The problem is simply that I cannot think of anyone except for Professor Dey who is new on the staff. And we would have known if it was anyone else already." Snape mused.

"So- get Dey." Harry heard himself say. "You managed to discover Quirrel..."

"Quirrel was an idiot. Whoever this is is much better than he was..."

Snape stared into the fire, and Harry just sort of slumped into the couch. Today had been a busy day, really, with far more emotions than he was comfortable with feeling in a lifetime.

He really didn't notice that he was dozing until Snape's voice caused him to startle.

"Right now, the Headmaster is giving Longbottom one of his trademarked encouraging speeches." Snape looked a bit uncomfortable at this. "I am no good with such things."

Harry just gave him a smile, he hardly needed a speech. The fact that Snape had been willing to give him one was far more encouraging than some stupid speech.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Right then, I shall say this: you have not yet shamed me, or your House. This would not be a good time to ruin your near-perfect record."

Well, that was quite a speech, and it made Harry grin even more at him.

Snape merely arched a brow at him.

"Don't get cocky, kid."

Harry was about to take his leave, because as comfortable as the couch was, he needed to go do some damage control (and how was he going to explain this exactly? What would Daphne think now?) before it got out of hand, when a slip of paper flew from the fireplace.

Snape caught it out of reflex, and stared at it for a few long minutes before he crumpled the paper up and let loose a snarl.

Harry figured this would be a good time to let himself out.

"No, Harry. This concerns you."

That took Harry by surprise, and he was pretty sure it was written all over his face. What had he done now?

"Sit." Snape sighed.

Harry took a tentative seat.

"This..." Snape cleared his throat.

This wasn't going to be good, Harry knew.

"You will recall when I told you earlier this year that your Father had been killed by his friend?"

Harry gave a slow nod at this. He did remember. How could he not?

"Yes well. This friend... went on quite the killing spree after your Father's murder. He managed to kill quite a few Muggles. They found him atop the pile of bodies, laughing maniacally.

He'd also managed to kill another friend of your father's, who had apparently decided to try and apprehend him. A ridiculous attempt, since he was absolutely useless at most magic. A decidedly reckless and Gryffindor thing to do.

The largest part of him they managed to find was a finger. The friend who killed your father was sentenced to life in Azkaban."

Harry swallowed at this. Gryffindor? And who was this sick so-called friend?

"His name is Sirius Black, and the Headmaster just received word that he has escaped."

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

And add a fuck just for good measure.

"The headmaster is afraid that Black might be after you- trying to finish the job he began. Or perhaps after Longbottom, to drag him before his master like a sacrificial lamb."

Great. Harry let loose a groan.

Wasn't this year fucked up enough? Really?

"I also feel the need to tell you that, according to Wizarding Law, he is your official Godfather."

Great. Just fucking great. His Godfather turned out to be some kind of crazed killer.

His life needed to get the memo that it was just officially a bitch.

"Right then." Snape said, looking rather murderous. Which was strange, considering that his Godfather wasn't some strange psychotic killer. "Get to bed. Now."

Harry really didn't need to be told twice. He needed a little time and some space to process.

He left more quickly than was really polite, though Snape didn't seem to mind in the least bit. He punched a wall in a deserted corridor, though it seemed more detrimental to his hand that the wall.

He was pretty sure he'd heard something crunch, and a quick test let him know that something was definitely broken.

When he entered the House commons it was eerily deserted.

They're all probably waiting to ambush me in my own common room. This is far too public. He thought grimly.

It turned out to be true, what with the fist that hit him squarely in the nose the moment he stuck it into the fifth year commons.

"What the fuck was that Potter?" Draco snarled, letting loose another punch which Harry managed to catch with his unharmed hand.

Harry growled at him- he usually didn't need to really fight for his place in the House after their first year, but this had obviously caused an upset.

Harry was the silver back wolf, and he wasn't going to let this undermine anything.

Draco growled right back at him.

"Draco! Stop it!" Daphne's voice cried.

But Harry and Draco both knew this had to be done, even the other girls seemed to know it, for he vaguely heard them trying to calm her.

"Let go of my hand, Potter." Draco hissed.

"No." Harry growled right back at him.

There was stunned silence at this- Harry never really addressed anyone who wasn't on his 'Close Friends' list.

The two boys continued to stare at each other, Harry still clenching at Draco's fist.

"Alright, this is ridiculous." Tracey's voice finally came. "We need explanations. Not men growling at each other."

Draco slowly dragged his hand away, and Harry let it go, keeping his defensive pose.

"Good. Now, Potter, start explaining."

Harry shrugged, eyes still on Draco.

"Oh for... both of you just sit down." Tracey said shoving Draco in the shoulder.

The move took him by surprise and he fell into a chair.

"Look Potter- what the fuck happened tonight? It was frankly disgraceful. We expected it from Longbottom, not from you."

"I don't know." Harry rasped, looking her straight in the eye. He was a pretty convincing liar.

"You don't know?" Tracey asked, incredulous. "How can you not know?"

"Because I don't." He said firmly.

"So what you're trying to tell us is that you have no idea how your name ended up in the Goblet?"

Harry shook his head.

"Bullshit." Draco snarled.

"For fuck's sakes'!" Harry snarled right back. "Why would I do this to myself? Think about it! I hate everything this competition stands for! Honour? Glory? Don't make me laugh!"

His little speech seemed to have quite an effect on the gathered masses. It was, he supposed, the pro's and the con's of not speaking a lot all rolled into one.

He never voiced his opinions, which made it hard for others to really know what they were, but he definitely lived by them. And if there was one thing no one could ever say about him it was that he sought out honour and glory.

It also made people a lot more willing to listen.

"You have a point there." Tracey conceded.

"Harry would never do that. He hates photographs, remember?" Daphne said, her green eyes wide and earnest.

"But that doesn't really answer any questions. It just creates more!" Pansy said in frustration.

Draco was looking at him with steady, silver eyes. Harry didn't back down.

"Say we do believe you- what does that mean?" Draco finally asked.

"That it's a huge conspiracy to ruin his pretty face?" Terence Higgs offered.

It seemed to have a general effect of making everyone in the room turn to stare at him, and Harry felt his eyes widen involuntarily.

He refused to blush at that comment though.

"Harry Potter, Harry Potter,

He makes all the girls besotter,

All the boys cry:

Why, why, why?

His pretty face,

is like an antique vase,

His emerald eyes,

Could not attract flies,

Even though the boys

Wish he'd let up on their toys..." Urquhart sang.

And that caused general laughter to rise up amongst the Slytherins. Harry just stood there, completely bewildered, and wondering what the hell he'd missed.

Daphne came up to him as everyone turned to congratulate Urquhart and Vaisey on their latest limerick- Harry heard one of the girls suggest something about his tattoos- and she smiled at him as she reached for his hand.

Harry immediately put the injured one behind his back and reached for her with the uninjured one.

"You hurt your hand." Daphne whispered.

Harry just gave her a lopsided grin. "It's fine."

"It's bleeding. Give it here."

Harry shook his head vehemently.

"Harry..." She looked down, before looking up at him through her lashes. "Harry, we're dating now. That means you have to let me take care of you too. Please?"

Well shit.

How was he supposed to say no to that?

With a sigh he held out his hand, letting her take it into her own small, soft hands and for a moment Harry found himself ashamed of his coarse, working class hands. But she merely smiled at him and looked at the damage.

"It's broken. Harry... you need to be careful. This is going to be a tough year..." She whispered at him.

She honestly had no idea.

She gave him a smile though, and a soft "Episky!" later his hand was healed. It would be tender for a while, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

"Alright, alright. Amusing as this little interlude has been we haven't actually decided what to do." Draco broke into their little quiet moment.

"What's there to decide?" Vaisey said suddenly. He wasn't really someone who tended to intrude in House politics. Everyone stared at him like he was insane. Or really slow.

"No- I'm serious people! We have a fucking champion here. Weren't you all bitching and moaning about how no Slytherin would get into the competition?"

His House turned to look at him once more, and Harry raised an eyebrow at them. Vaisey was right, he supposed.

"Vaisey's right." Teddy said, excitement in his voice. "We have a champion!"

"I don't know... it's a little optimistic for us." Pansy mused.

"We can do it though!" Teddy grinned. He really was a hopeless optimist, despite their attempts to make him more realistic.

"We could try it though, as a kind of experiment. If it doesn't work we never have to do it again." Tracey nodded.

"You're kidding me, right?" Draco asked.

"No, no! Think about it- this is actually pretty awesome!" Urquhart smiled, punching Vaisey in the arm.

"I'm not conviced." Draco growled.

"Well what else are we going to do? Ostracise him? We're not a bunch of pansy-ass Gryffindors! We're Slytherins. We take advantage of situations others would deem hopeless!" Tracey snapped at him.

"Fine. But I do not like this." Draco scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"We never said we liked this. But it's happened. Now we deal with it." Pansy said, reasonably.

"And I believe Harry when he says he didn't do it. Or that he knows why it was done." Daphne said, hooking her arm into his.

"You have to believe him though." Urquhart pointed out, amusedly.

Snickering broke out at this, but it wasn't really malicious, and Daphne stuck out her tongue at him.

"Alright, enough of this lovey-dovey shit. Go to bed. All of you." Draco sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

Well... that went surprisingly well, Harry thought as he gave Daphne her goodnight kiss.

Draco's eyes never left him though.

Harry couldn't help but feel he'd lost him.

He resolutely ignored the hole that seemed to create in his chest.

BaB-HP-BaB

Letatsi gasped as she bumped into what seemed to be a very solid piece of air.

Well, that was interesting. She put out her hand, and found that that was stopped in the same place.

Oh, yes. Seems I'm not the only one to ignore those lovely "Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again!" signs.

Letatsi raised her hand and slapped it against the invisible barrier, causing a ripple of blue to bleed into the air.

Smirking, she slapped it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"Tae Se'el!(1)" A loud voice came from the cave she had been approaching.

For a hermit of apparently mystical powers and incredibly antisocial tendencies who apparently skinned people who approached him alive, like some sort of antelope, he sure made it easy to find him.

Maybe this was a Bad Idea.

But it was her only idea, really, and how pathetic was that?

"I will not!" She yelled back.

"Se'el(1)... I have a gun you know! And I'm a very powerful sangoma(2)!"

"I know- that is why I have sought you out!"

"Jae, well, I don't do fortunes."

"That is not..." She sighed. She had to be calm about this, her people hung in the balance. "I am not here to have my fortune read, Great Hermit!"

"Oh no? Then what are you here for?"

"For the good of my people!"

"... Jae(3) no. I don't do that either."

"Please! You must help us! Malesotho is dead!"

There was the sound of quick steps and then a man appeared in the mouth of the cave. He was tall, white and tanned with a shock of snowy hair and eyes that she could see even from this distance were a stormy, glowing red.

"What?" He demanded.

"So you do know what that means." She sighed, looking down.

"That really depends."

"On what?"

"On what you think it means."

"I know what it means. And I know that you know what it means! And it will kill my people!"

"Oho! Will it now?"

"Yes!"

"Well, that's not really my problem, now is it?"

"Please! I... I will do anything..."

"And what do you think I want with you?"

"You want my soul." She said, with determination.

"Excuse me? Your soul? What the fuck would I want with your soul girlie?"

"... I don't know! What do Demons generally do with human souls?"

"... Demons, ne?"

"Yes! And I cannot allow my people to die. Therefore, I shall give you my soul."

"Se'eeeeeeel(4)... I am far too old for this karak(5)!"

"Will you take my soul? It is pure, as is befitting a princess."

The man let out a harsh bark of laughter. "So what you're offering is a virgin sacrifice, huh?"

Letatsi bristled at his crudeness. But the man held up his hands and said: "Peace, princess! I mean no offence."

"Then there is no need to be crude!"

"Na, na(6). Pardon my rudeness. It's not every day that a princess shows up on my doorstep."

And with that he was next to her, looking at her with those red eyes.

"Tell me, Letatsi, why should I accept your soul? What would you wish in return? Think carefully girlie, because selling your soul is a deal that cannot be undone."

"I want you to save my people."

The man shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, Princess. I cannot save your people. I can only help you to save them."

Letatsi swallowed hard. "Then I want you to help me. I want you to do anything and everything in your power to allow my people to survive."

"And for this, you would trade your immortal soul?"

"Yes."

"Very well, then Letatsi, Princess of Lesotho. I accept."

And with that the world went blank.

BaB-HP-BaB

The field was warm, and the grass was green, with little wild flowers blooming everywhere. It was beautiful.

"It is amazing what love can do." Mika said.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked immediately. She looked paler than usual (How was that possible?) and a small frown creased her forehead.

"As intuitive as always, I see." She graced him with a small, sad smile.

"You could just answer a question for once."

"I could... but then you would learn nothing."

"If I didn't think it would mess up my field I'd kill you."

"I doubt that."

"Fucking infuriating..."

"Peace, Harry Potter." She said raising her hand in a 'stop' gesture.

"Then answer my bloody question!"

"It is not an easy one to answer."

"I could just strangle you..."

"And what consequences would that have?"

"... Excuse me?"

"What consequences would there be?"

"Uhhhhh... I'd feel guilty?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Tell me- what happens to a soul that has killed?"

"... It... goes to hell?"

"Such a simplistic answer. Tell me, are you in hell?"

"That really depends on the day I'm having..."

"Be serious."

"I am! How am I supposed to know whether I'm in hell? There are theories..."

"That state that even we, as we exist, are currently in hell and heaven simultaneously. Or perhaps that hell is your reincarnated form. I am aware."

"Pissy tonight, are we?"

"Things happen that you are not aware of. Even now, things are happening that we cannot control. You cannot understand all things yet- that is why we are here."

"Okay... so the hell thing. I'm not in hell then."

"No."

"But there is a hell?"

"Of a sort, yes."

"Alright then... I'm stuck."

"Think, Harry Potter, when you killed what did it feel like?"

"It... it felt like... like my soul was being ripped apart."

"Indeed."

"So your soul gets ripped apart?"

"In a manner of speaking. It is really more like a tear- a tear in the very fabric of that which defines a human."

"So- my soul's all torn up?"

"Healing can take place, if you are willing."

"And if you're not?"

"Then there is nothing to be done."

"But isn't killing a mortal sin?"

"Magick is not a judge, Harry Potter, it is a law, a governing body."

"What- like the Ministry?"

"No. you know the principles of Yin and Yang?"

"What, dark and light in balance? That thing?"

"Yes."

"So... magick... keeps the balance?"

"It cannot do so inherently. So it is more complex than that."

"So... what?"

"Magick keeps the balance as much as it can, but people are needed to ensure that magick remains in balance. Magick does not have a conscience as we know it, since it is not technically alive. It is a force."

"So people have to act as its conscience?"

"If you like."

"Not really, but what the hey, right?"

"Tell me, why did you have the dreams you did?"

"... The nightmares with your voice?"

"Indeed."

"You wanted to torture me?"

"No."

"Then I'm stuck."

"Think of the state of your soul."

"Ragged and ugly?"

"Not ugly, merely... tattered in places."

"Okay... So did the dreams allow me to come here?"

"Yes."

"Were they necessary for me to come into my inheritance?"

"Yes."

"Okay... some kind of process of sowing up my soul then?"

"A very vivid description."

"Hah! Got it!"

"In a sense. When a soul becomes a Guardian it must be pure. But no person's soul can be always pure. The magick had to cleanse your soul, so that it may enter this place."

"... Great. I'm a patched pair of jeans."

"No. Your soul is clean- therefore it is a pair jeans which has had the patches removed to show new denim underneath."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"So... it's brand spanking new? What happens if I kill again?"

"You must not!" The outburst was sudden, and then Mika sat back and poured herself another cup of tea. "As a Guardian you can not risk your soul. The consequences are too great."

"So what are they?"

"If you can not keep your Malango, or Gateway, in balance then grave things will happen to those in your care."

"My care?"

"Your people, those who are tied to your Malango."

"And who would that be?"

"Those in the so called 'United Kingdom', those in Europe, Iceland, Greenland and many of the smaller islands surrounding them."

"Wait- I'm responsible for all those witches and wizards? Shit!"

Mika smiled at him from behind her teacup. "Not just the magic users- all those who live there."

"... Bullshit."

"I do not make it a habit to lie. It is bad for the soul."

"I'll bet."

"Your soul is very important- it is in all people. But if your soul is tarnished... nothing good can come of it."

"So I won't just suffer some very graphic nightmares?"

"Not this time, no."

"So... I have to somehow start living a pure life? Seriously? How do I do that- because, in case you hadn't noticed, my life's not exactly the kind of straight and narrow 'make some good decisions, oh does she like me?' kind.

It's... more of the damned if you do and damned if you don't."

"Then leave."

"Excuse me?"

"These are dangerous times, and one cannot maintain a pure soul if one is not in seclusion."

"And where exactly would I go?"

"Come with me. Study all that you need to know and gain inner peace."

"... You're serious."

"Deathly."

HP-BaB-HP

A/N: Gah! What a loooooong chapter! Sorry, but it's getting harder and harder to cut chapters off. Things are happening. See? I told you there's plot!

Okay... so I apologise for the last part of this chapter. I was writing it and then my Mom's (deleted list of expletives) dog tore my poor cat apart. She's in ICU now, but she needs to stay for at least a week so that they can see if she has any internal injuries... and if that's the case she's going to die. So I'm a bit teary eyed. (And a lot of upset- I want that dog's head mounted on my wall right now. And I like dogs.) So yeah. Pardon. Luckily I tend to write my A/Ns as I go along with my story, so it's not all doom and gloom. Whoo.

Haha- I just couldn't resist the little Princess Bride reference in that first part. Don't ask me why because I haven't seen it in ages, it just seemed to work. And I don't know why, but Star Wars just seemed to fit into the Harry/Severus scene. I think I am dying from Sherlock deprivation.

Poor Neville- he's so confused. And Dumbledore isn't making things any easier. The question, I suppose, is has Snape told Dumbledore? What is the old man stirring up now? Probably trouble. :D I really do love Dumbledore, even the last book couldn't quite kill my liking of him (which it apparently did for a lot of people) but he's just human. And not a particularly transparent one either.

For those of you who are like me when it comes to names: Sabrina is the owner of the Kneazle Bakery, where Harry works during the holls, Nanna is her mother, and Adrienne is the little girl. That's why Harry thinks about them.

Severus has such a gift for lovely, impassioned speeches doesn't he? Well, if it works I suppose it's really the point, so we shan't critique him too harshly. Personally I found it very amusing to write. I thought: hey, what would Snape do? Hehe. Hopefully it's in character.

Ahhhh, Slytherins. Aren't their minds just wonderfully convoluted? I mean, they can really make the best of anything, and they really do believe in sticking together. As to Urquhart's little ditty... I don't know. I'm no good at writing them, but it just seemed to sort of put itself there, so what's a poor author to do? I don't think Harry's going to have a good time of it inside the hallowed House of Slytherin, but they're sticking with Snape's teachings and sticking together to the outside, so that's something at least. At least Harry has Daphne.

On the Letasti/Demon Hermit scene: yes, yes. OC's hiss! Boo! But, like with everything else I do, I promise that they have an actual point. The plot just wouldn't work without them, and I hate to see Voldemort relegated to some idiot who tries to kill a boy and is then defeated with "Expelliarmus!". Really? That was just... too anticlimactic. So he's going on an actual world-wide reign of terror, and he's starting in Lesotho. Why, you ask? I won't tell... yet. ;D Ahem, also, the language he swears in is one of my own invention (Grah! This bloody story is spiralling out of my control!) and the origins will be explained. In the next chapter.

Also: on Letatsi's rather erudite English- she's a Sotho princess. In Lesotho that means that you do British A-Levels. I knew a Sotho princess back in my old college and she had an actual British english teacher- it was very confusing at first. Also- there isn't actually one Sotho princess in the real Lesotho, there are a lot. But for the purposes of this little yarn, she's the only one. ;D

Translations:

"Fuck off"

"Fuck"

"Yes"

"Fuuuuuuck... I am far too old for this shit."

"Yeah, yeah."

Damn this is a long A/N!

Thank you for all your favs/alerts/reviews! You are awesome readers! So make my day and review! Please!

Coming up: Letatsi learns some new things, Harry makes a decision and Fleur sees her doggy again. Other than that I cannot promise anything.