Chapter 7

"But where did he come from, I wonder?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows," he replied, trying to finish his next paragraph for Potions, consulting the Half-Blood Prince's book as Hermione scowled at him in disapproval from across her parchment.

"But how d'ya suppose he got better so quick? I mean…he looked awful," Ron wondered on, ignoring the blank piece of parchment in front of him in favor of the more interesting subject. "And we haven't heard anything about how Katie's doing, either."

"You should ask Luna, she was talking to him earlier," Hermione replied, finishing off her essay and rolling it up with a flick of her wand. Ron gaped at her.

"How are you already done?"

"Because unlike some people, Ronald, I do my work instead of gossiping." Ron's ears turned red and he began to argue back; Harry tuned them out. He was curious about the kid, though. It wasn't everyday someone just showed up at Hogwarts; with Voldemort back, it was even more worrying.

xox

A knock at Dumbledore's door interrupted the headmaster's session for thinking, but he was expecting this visitor and called for him to come in. Remus Lupin walked inside, looking in need of a good night's sleep or a cup of tea. Perhaps both. Dumbledore conjured a pot and Remus sighed gratefully, nodding in thanks.

"How are you, Remus?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied tiredly. He took a long sip of tea and slumped in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. There was more gray in his hair and the bags under his eyes were darker; Remus looked like he'd aged years in the past six months.

"How is Nymphadora?"

Remus sighed heavily and just shook his head. "She's…its complicated."

"I see. Then I suppose we'll get to it. What news do you have for me?"

Remus set his cup in the saucer with a soft clink. "I looked into that story and the boy. There's nothing. The only thing on Noah was from the Abrahamic texts, and Allen Walker's name didn't appear in magical or Muggle records. His story about a man bringing back people to life didn't show anything either. Nothing that looked legitimate, anyway."

"No, I didn't really expect it to," Dumbledore replied quietly, thinking. "What about 'Innocence'?"

Remus sighed. "Nothing like what you described. If I could meet the boy and examine it for myself, then, perhaps…"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "I, too, would like to see it for myself. But I imagine we'd need to gain his permission first. He is also still recovering from his injuries."

"What were they from?"

"The curse placed upon him and Miss Bell. Poppy also mentioned the boy showed signs of malnutrition, and that he had injuries to his wrists and ankles, though from what I can only speculate." Remus frowned at that. "I believe I can say confidently that the boy's 'Innocence' had something to do with why he might have recovered from the curse, though without seeing it for myself I cannot be sure."

"So what are you going to do with him?"

Dumbledore didn't answer immediately, and Remus took the time to enjoy another cup of tea and several biscuits.

Finally, Dumbledore said, "I'll let him stay in the castle for now, until he recovers. I'll present him with some other options when he is deemed ready to go."

Remus frowned. "But what if he turns out to be a threat to the students?" To Harry, he tacked on mentally.

"I have people watching him, and if the safety of the students is in question I will of course take care of it. But I will give the boy the benefit of the doubt. He is still a child." Remus sighed, unhappy with Dumbledore's trusting attitude. He knew better than to argue about it, though. Dumbledore had the final say and Remus realized the conversation was over.

"Now," Dumbledore said, readjusting in his seat and taking a cup of tea for himself, "What news is there for Fenrir Greyback?"

Remus straightened up, glad to move to something he could answer, even if the news was grim.

xox

Allen was restless.

He'd tried exercising, but had only managed a small portion of his usual workout before he was panting with exhaustion, every deep breath not bringing enough air to his lungs. He'd laid on the floor for a solid half hour, resting, his legs shaking and his arms feeling dead.

He forced himself to abandon the crutches as he did slow laps around his bed, every step agony, every pause an exercise in balance. He couldn't remember being so handicapped before, but it was by sheer force of will that he refused to give up.

His arms and shoulders ached from holding his weight, his legs were still shaky and not up to standard, and every potion dose seemed to taste worse than the last. But they worked—Madame Pomfrey told him that the ripped tendons were completely healed and the muscles in his legs were recovering nicely. Were it not for those horrible potions, he'd still be in bed—so Allen accepted his treatment gratefully.

Allen contemplated taking a nap, but immediately dismissed it when he remembered the voice of the Fourteenth. But he couldn't stay stuck in his room.

He needed Tim. That's all there was to it.

Rolling up, Allen pulled himself to his feet by the bedpost and limped to his crutches, situating them until he felt balanced, and then left his room. He didn't know where to start, but figured anything was better than being in the room with only his thoughts and his weakened body as company.

The hallways were deserted; classes must be going on. Afternoon sunlight shone through thick-paned glass, illuminating the castle's high Gothic ceilings. The castle really was magnificent, and full of nooks and crannies where Tim could be hiding.

Allen explored the floor his room was on before moving up to the next level, the going slow as he had to maneuver the crutches up the steps. He ended up resorting to hopping up the stairs, a slow task, and musing on the idea that Hogwarts should invest in an elevator.

He went down each corridor slowly, calling for Timcampy, turning at the smallest sounds, from wind whistling through the stone to the slap of his own shoes against the floor and the scraping of the crutches. He climbed up two more flights of stairs, calling for Tim, each step more anxious than the last.

He was on what he thought was the fifth floor when he turned a corner and saw a little girl with a green tie standing in the middle of the corridor.

"Hello!" he called. The little girl jumped and stared at him, eyes wide and confused. He hobbled over and stopped a few feet from the girl, smiling his politest gentlemanly grin. "Think you could help me? I'm looking for a little golden golem, has wings and a funny looking tail." The girl said nothing, just stared dumbly at Allen.

"Have you seen anything like that?" Allen asked again. He wished suddenly he had a picture or a drawing of Tim to show people.

She continued to stare at him and Allen's smile faded. "Um, can you tell me where I am, exactly?" Maybe there was a classroom nearby. He could get directions and maybe ask a few more people if they'd seen Tim. After a moment she shook her head, still silent.

The awkwardness continued to stretch and finally Allen smiled and said, "Well, thanks anyway," and turned to go.

He walked a few steps when he realized he didn't know which way lead to the stairs that lead to the other levels and turned around, "Hey, can you tell me—?" but stopped at the sight of a boy standing over the little girl, glaring down at her. She looked confused and scared, but the boy, with unkempt white-blond hair and hastily rolled-up sleeves, looked agitated. Allen stared, having not even heard the boy come by.

The little girl pointed at Allen and the boy turned around, glaring at Allen, his pale, pointed face scrunching up in irritation. "Who are you?" he called, his voice haughty and aggravated.

Allen frowned at the boy. "Allen Walker. You?"

The boy frowned. "Draco Malfoy," he responded haughtily, as if he shouldn't have had to introduce himself. He looked away then, rolling down his sleeves before looking down his nose at Allen. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for someone and I got lost. I was just trying to get directions."

The boy looked Allen over, eyes pausing at the crutches, the color of his hair, and then staring for a long moment at the scar on Allen's face. "You're the boy that was…" he said, his voice fading and his skin paling further.

"Yeah," Allen replied, not wanting to dwell on it. "Look, Draco—"

"Malfoy," the boy snapped, his voice coming out a bit strangled.

Allen wondered what that was all about. "Fine, Malfoy, how do I get back to the stairs?"

Malfoy stared at him a few moments longer, then shook his head. Straightening up, Malfoy pointed behind Allen. "Go back that way and take a right. The steps will be right there. Is that all?" he finished sharply, clearly ready for Allen to leave.

Allen glanced back to the nervous-looking girl. "Just one more thing: you should pick on people your own size."

Draco flushed in indignation. "What are you going to do about it, Scarface, limp at me?"

Allen stared dryly at Malfoy, unamused. "Scarface? Really? That's the best you can come up with?" Allen glanced at the little girl, who was looking nervously back and forth between Malfoy and Allen.

Allen hobbled toward her, and said kindly, "You can come with me if he's bothering you."

Malfoy pounced on that, raising a hand in front of the girl's body and snapping, "Did breaking your legs break your hearing too? Stay out of other people's business!" Whatever had bothered him before, he was clearly over it.

Allen glanced back at Malfoy, who would deny the shiver than ran down his spine at the boy's icy look. "One, I didn't break my legs, ferret face."

"Ferret-!" Malfoy sputtered, his fist clenching his wand and his face going red.

"And two," Allen plowed on, ignoring Malfoy's sputtering, "sorry, can't do that. Leave the girl alone."

Malfoy glanced at the girl and then back at Allen, his sneer colored by uncertainty. In another moment it was gone as Malfoy raised his wand, glaring at the boy, his face still red with anger. "You as senile as you look, whitey? What kind of idiot picks up a package that just cursed someone?"

Allen raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. "How do you know that? You weren't even there."

For a fraction of a second Malfoy's eyes widened but then they narrowed in derision. Malfoy's wand arm straightened sharply, the tip just brushing Allen's nose. "You're just a freak Muggle," he sneered, the word "Muggle" coming out with special venom, as if saying it was uttering the foulest curse word. "Maybe another hex will teach you to stay in your place."

Allen stared at the wand and then back up, meeting Malfoy's eyes unblinkingly. "My place?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"What is going on here?"

Malfoy started, his wand lowering immediately at the sound of the slick voice behind Allen. Allen turned to see a tall man with greasy black hair and black, billowing robes stalking toward them, the severe frown on his face swiping between the two boys, pausing at the little girl and then fixing itself on Malfoy, stopping just a few feet away from the boys. "Well, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Nothing, Professor Snape," he said, glancing at Allen.

"You and Ms. Retue are skipping classes. Five points each will be taken from you. As for you, Mr. Walker, what are you doing up on the fifth floor?" the professor turned on Allen, fixing him with a cold glare, daring him to lie.

Allen frowned at the man and then said with forced politeness, "I was lost and looking for my golem."

"Do you see it here, in this corridor?" Snape sneered, not breaking eye contact.

"No."

"Then you should move on and look elsewhere…such as where you are allowed to be." Allen stared up at Snape, and then glanced at Malfoy, who didn't make a move, his wand hand down.

"I'll be going then," Allen announced, turning on his crutches and limping off, feeling the eyes of Snape and Malfoy watching him. The heels of the crutches scraped loudly against the stone, until he reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner. Allen continued to make a lot of noise for a few more steps before silently turning around and creeping to the edge of the corner, listening.

Snape's voice came out quiet and slow, a threatening tone lacing every word. "You need to be more careful, Draco, if someone else were to come along—"

"I'm fine; it was just an accident because of stupid Crabbe—"

"You cannot afford accidents," Snape snapped coolly. "Or the help of halfwits."

"I'm fine," Malfoy snapped, his voice having lost the deference in it just moments before. "Now let me get back to work, sir," he snapped, sneering the last word mockingly before the sound of stone scrapping on stone and the heavy rumble of a door shutting filled the air.

"As for you…steal any more supplies from my stores and detention will be the best thing that has ever happened to you."

Allen heard soft footfalls and the swish of cloak follow that; Snape was coming back. He frantically searched for a corner to hide in, and squeezed into a shadowy patch of wall just seconds before Snape turned the corner.

The man didn't pause as he walked on, and Allen waited a few minutes before limping off to search elsewhere for Tim, wondering about what he'd just stumbled into.

A/N: Abrahamic texts=Bible, Torah, Koran, and anything related to them. Abraham is an important figure in Christianity, Judaism and Islam, and Noah is a prophet of all three, which is why Lupin would look into all of them when doing research on Allen's story. Religion is never blatantly addressed in Harry Potter, even though it's easy to see a Christian bias with having both Christmas and Easter breaks and having Harry as a literary Christ figure. Allen's a literary Christ figure too, but rather than get into that...

Sorry it's been so long! I partly place the blame on the fact that I started the Percy Jackson books last week and they've taken up quite a bit of my free time-I'm on Mark of Athena and not really looking forward to the apparent feels in House of Hades. Stupid demigods and their stupid sarcastic charm and ugh this series will kill me do you understand.