A/N: This chapter actually gave me a lot of trouble and it wasn't until I'd put up chapter eighteen that I finally finished it. Before anyone kills me…you might notice that I didn't put in exactly how Harry got Dumbledore's office to look the way it will, the chapter, I swear, is almost seven thousand words long (6,641 in fact), so maybe that is a compromise? Let your imaginations run wild, but I imagined it to look like what Harry did to the office at the end of OotP, only ten times worse.

On another note, have a look at the bold print below….

Countdown to Ronald Bilius Weasley's Demise-- Six Chapters

I now know for sure that that will be occurring in chapter twenty five. Everything is planned out and just waiting to be typed up. Harry will just be indulging in terrorising Ron with spiders, and Phanta will be annoying the hell out of the other three to the best of her ability.

And if anyone thinks that this story is moving too slowly, or like a soap opera show, which I heartily loathe, I cannot simply skip over important facts. There are hints everywhere as to what is going to happen, all you have to do is look for it. This story was always going to move slowly through most of the chapters, it was truly planned that way. And sorry there are so many characters to keep track of…

Chapter Nineteen-- Confrontations And Tests

Marci raised an eyebrow at the broken gargoyle that had had the unfortunate duty of guarding Dumbledore's office door. The door itself looked more like a hole now, and the rubble of the wall was spread about the corridor. She was surprised that Harry had put so much effort into blasting his way in, after all, he could have just asked Hogwarts. Unless the castle was being refused the right to contact him, since he'd been unable to simply find out the location of Joanne and Kimba that way. Most likely it was yet another thing Dumbledore had done.

She stepped onto the spiral staircase and began to climb it, feeling the crackles of energy in the air. In fact, she could see tendrils of black, gold and red magic reaching out from the office door. Swearing lightly, she hurried on up, opening the half closed door to have her sight blocked by a blood red wing. That wing, attached to Harry, had small vein like lines of black running through it, and those had not been there before all this had begun.

"Harry?"

"Go away, Marci!"

"Ah, Miss Szina, how good of you to join us."

Harry reluctantly folded his wing, emerald eyes blazing with power and pure hatred. He was loosing the precarious grip he had on his shields, and the only thing helping him was the soft caress of Tom's magic. He'd missed his mate and could hardly believe he'd actually blocked him out. But he'd have to talk to him later, make sure he knew the truth and not the lie Merrick had concocted.

"Join?" Marci stepped next to Harry, giving him a brief smile. "I was merely coming here to inform you of a recent development, but it seems Harry may have got here first." She cast a glance about the room, noting the absence of the phoenix Harry had told them about, and the destroyed books and various items. "I must say, he did a good job."

Dumbledore seemed taken aback by her dismissive tone. "I was under the impression you had no objections."

She huffed. "I never even spoke to you, so how on earth did you figure that?" She gave an inward wince, as she straightened up. "As the official envoy of the Guild Council," another wince, "I am hereby informing you that your past actions, or inactions, have led me to assume that you care very little for those you see as 'Dark', which you also assume must be 'evil'. You have a very prejudiced way of looking at the world, just as every Light Lord before you."

"I am no Light Lord, there has never been one."

Harry sneered, the expression twisting his features. "Oh, of course not. Wouldn't want the world to know that Light magic corrupts a person too."

Marci cast a glance at Harry. "Perhaps, I should come back another time?"

"No. The Council needs to know what he's done."

"I have done nothing, Mister Evans."

The effect was immediate. Harry snarled out something in the Hecatamae's own language, before his eyes flashed, flaring even brighter. "You gave that son of a bitch spells to use against me! I know, you know what I am, Dumbledore, because you were there when my parents were told. I know, that it was you who informed the Ministry and pushed them to vote for my capture and execution. And I know, that Weasley could not have found those spells, without your help."

Marci was shocked, to say the least. She might have already known that it was likely that the Headmaster had given Ron those spells, but to now know that the man had wanted Harry dead?

"You are a dangerous…animal, Harry, I had no other choice."

Gold flashed within Harry's eyes, and he gave a very audible growl. "Animal? You call me an animal?"

The rising anger was beginning to crack his shields, and Marci felt it like a stab to her chest. Sucking in a deep breath, she placed a hand on Harry's arm, noticing for the first time that he'd remembered to change out of his Assassin's clothing, before sending a calming burst of magic into him. The soft pink magic was absorbed immediately and his muscles relaxed a little. He sent her a thankful glance, before focusing once more on the old wizard before them.

"You also allow your students to attack us, Dumbledore," she said softly, trying to keep Harry as calm as possible. "And two of our peers are currently lying in beds in the Hufflepuff dorms suffering from severe magical overloads, as well as physical injuries."

"You cannot be certain that any Hogwarts student attacked them."

"Can't we?" Harry sneered. "We caught them there, in the act!"

"Impossible. Perhaps they were there to help them?"

Marci raised an eyebrow, watching in silence as Harry's entire demeanour changed. The magic that was radiating from him was suddenly sucked in, his wings folding and vanishing, while his eyes lit up like golden emeralds in a pitch-black room. "And why, Dumbledore, would any Gryffindor wish to help a Durmstrang student when they could easily attack them instead? You have them all thinking we are nothing but Dark witches and wizards."

His voice was soft, and he seemed to have reverted back to the usual calm and patient Harry she knew so well. Staying quiet, she reached out with her own magic and slipped past the barrier he held up against everyone but her and his mate. She could see what was wrong, could see the reason behind the uneasy feeling she'd been getting the last day or so. The shields surrounding his Core, a shimmering dark grey over a vibrant pearl like orb, had massive cracks and fractures spread over it like a spiders web. His Inner Magic was leaking out, but just above his own shields, was one that was coloured light blue and felt distinctly ancient. She had no idea what was helping protect him from the chaotic magic within him, but she was grateful for it all the same. A furious Harry was deadly for everyone.

She blinked as she drew back, knowing Harry was already aware of her intrusion, just as Dumbledore replied.

"Are you anything but that? You all freely admit that you learn the Dark Arts, Harry."

"That does not make us Dark by association. You cannot put people into a category based on their type of magic."

"You admit that your own magic is Dark?"

Harry snorted and shook his head in disbelief. "Half werewolf Dumbledore. My magic was always going to be at least partially Dark, and it's not like I could learn what we are learning if I wasn't naturally able to."

Marci sighed. "What does it matter whether someone's magic is Light or Dark? It's the intent behind it that matters."

The old wizard frowned and gave her a look that made her feel like a small child inquiring beyond her station. "My dear, Dark magic corrupts the individual using it. Having you all wandering my halls is worrying at the least. Never mind having you in the same dorms as my own students."

"Then let us back into our own dorm." Marci felt Harry's muscles tense under her hand and she wondered what he was up to. "We are more comfortable being separated from your students. And the fact you worry about our effect on them, despite being the reason we are in there, means that you should have already thought of this."

She almost laughed when she realised what Harry was doing. He was manipulating a cunning manipulator. Dishing back to him what he gave out. It was perfect, and she was witness to Dumbledore's own words expressing his concern, and as a Healer, she was bound to move towards trying to ease pain or stress on those around her. He would know that.

"He's right, Headmaster. It would be better for all involved if we were once more separated. The wards and spells we are all using on our beds could cause serious harm to repeat offenders. I'm sure your medi-witch is sick of all the injuries coming about."

He was stuck. He had no choice. Harry could barely keep the smirk off his face, only just managing to twist it into a grimace. His eyes flickered when he caught sight of a familiar face beaming at him. The Founders had returned to their portraits.

"I believe we are in agreement with these children, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore jerked, turning to see Salazar sneering at him while Helga gave him a self satisfied smirk. "You are back?"

"For now, at least." Rowena frowned down at him. "Perhaps it would be best if you did what was good for everyone?"

"I heartily agree." Godric was frowning, an angry gleam in his eyes. "These students should never have been put in with Hogwarts'. It was a bad idea from the beginning."

Dumbledore stared, even as the castles walls shivered. Marci looked at Harry, knowing by the satisfied smirk beginning to creep over his face, that he could feel whatever was happening. She hoped that the castle was removing their things and placing them back in the separate dorms.

"Very well, as it seems that the Founders have made the decision, the Durmstrang students will be placed within a separate dorm once more."

"And your students?" Marci frowned at him. "What of them?"

"I will speak to their Heads of House and we will begin to repair the problem."

Harry nodded and allowed Marci to tug him towards the door. "Why don't you let Professor McGonagall punish them as she sees fit? That we can agree with!"

Marci shook her head and continued to drag him down the spiral staircase. "You are such an idiot, Harry."

"What?"

"Honestly! Going off as pissed as you were, confronting Dumbledore alone!" She spun and poked him in the chest. "You could have killed him!"

"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I almost did. Although, I don't think he knows that."

She stared at him. "Idiot. You are an idiot!"

He grinned sheepishly. "Look, I'm not sorry I went and saw him, I am sorry that I did it the way I did."

"What half?" She rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the migraine she knew was creeping slowly up on her.

"Werewolf."

"Again, idiot!"

She was aware of the frown beginning to crease his brow, but she ignored it in favour of checking him over to ensure that he was still safe. She was the only person anywhere nearby, let alone qualified, who could be able to care for any injuries that may be inflicted upon him. His own magic refused medi-witches and wizards, and any ordinary wizard ways of treating injuries were rejected immediately. Spells had to be purely Healer in origin, and the potions had to be derived from those left behind by the Hecatamae and those potions were so delicate that they required a Master of Potions.

She sighed, shaking her head as her fingers traced over a jagged cut on his forearm, her magic healing it as she went. "Why is it that you always rush into things? Why can't you think things over, like Grey?"

Harry blinked at her, aware of both what she was saying and why she was saying it. Grey Shadow, though essentially him in reality, was mostly made up of that part of him capable of feeling absolutely nothing, a part of him that he used to its full extent during missions. If he was going to kill someone, in a possibly very gruesome way, he didn't want to be feeling terrible for doing it, or feeling sick because of how it'd been done.

On the other hand, she was mentioning Grey as if it was an entirely separate person. Which was good, because Dumbledore was prying into Grey's life, and he had likely already found the connection between Harry, Grey and Tom, or as he was likely to call him, Voldemort. If that was the case, the Circle had decided they wanted no mistakes, that they wanted no chance of Dumbledore using the knowledge against Harry. If he was to use it against Grey Shadow, he had another thing coming. That part of Harry, which made up so much of him anyway, was not likely to back down nor take any threats lightly.

He smiled down at Marci, and it was soft, full of the fondness he held for each of his close friends. He loved his pack, each and every one of them, since they were so small a group, but his friends? His friends were dear to him.

He would die for each and every one of them. Without a seconds thought.

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Hermione sighed, tucking her legs under her and lifting the book up a bit more. She was reading yet another book, trying to find out something more substantial on Hecatamae. Ever since Harry had admitted he was one, she'd been curious as to what that entailed, but she'd been too nervous to approach him throughout the day. The Durmstrang students had all seemed tense and irritated, just as they'd been when they first arrived.

It was worrying, and she had found herself anxiously looking around for Harry, or even Mere, but she could find neither of them. They were Head Boy and Girl, they should have picked up on the tension and reacted to it, by stopping it of course. The reactions she'd been seeing all day could quite possibly mean that there was going to be some kind of--.

"GET BACK HERE YOU STINKEN' FLYIGN SERPENT!!"

--problem.

She sighed and looked up to see Harry's familiar, the tiny silver faerie dragon, Phanta, whirling away from the three Gryffindor boys that were currently chasing her. Watching, an amused smile playing over his lips, was Darren. His own familiar, an odd looking black panther like cat that seemed to drift in and out of sight, was crouched on the ground, looking for all the world as if it was waiting to pounce, once permission was given.

"Hey, Hermione!"

She frowned, closing the book and unfolding herself as she stood. The book was carefully put into the bag she slipped onto her shoulder, before she began making her way over to him. "Hello, Darren."

His familiar looked up at her, red eyes gleaming as odd flames swept through its fur. "Hello, Miss Granger."

She jerked, brown eyes widening. "My god…"

Darren gave her a grin. "They do talk, just some of them don't exactly speak English, like Phanta, who can only speak Parseltongue." He looked up as the little dragon shrieked, high enough to make his familiar hiss in annoyance and pounce into the air after her. "And they tend to keep to themselves and their bonded master or mistress."

She frowned. "Must they refer to you as such?"

"They choose to." He shrugged. "Some people, like Harry, don't like being referred to as that from someone they consider their perfect equal. But we can't stop them if they choose to do so. Fact of life, I suppose." He looked down and smirked in amusement as his familiar sat down on his feet, growling. "This is Merynes, by the way."

Merynes looked up, blood red eyes watching her unblinkingly. "It is curious, the way you protest our choices, Miss Granger."

She sniffed. "While it's nice to meet you Merynes, I think it's best if I admit that I don't smile on servitude. Whether it be familiars or House Elves."

Darren laughed, his brown eyes glimmering gold a moment. "Oh, yes! Potter told us about your little organization. S.P.E.W, wasn't it?"

She glared at him. "It's a perfectly logical name, I'll have you know!"

"He wasn't laughing at the name, Mione." There was only one person who even called her that, and she whirled to see Harry watching her with bright emerald eyes. "Rather the reactions we've seen and what we've heard about your efforts in giving the House Elves a little more respect and freedom."

Phanta gave a sharp shriek before settling herself on his shoulder, one tanned hand rising to take the thick letter she held in her talons. The silver dragon cooed and rubbed her head on his cheek before climbing up his hair to rest on his head, her tail curling over his shoulder and around his neck, while the gossamer wings dropped down on either side of his face.

"Oh, right, of course."

Phanta hissed and Harry cocked his head slightly, even though the dragon lifted her wings up in an effort to remain where she was. He frowned and hissed back, a flash of annoyance going through eyes that held hints of gold. He looked back at her and gave a small smile. "It seems that after everything that happened, I forgot about the test I was meant to give you. Would you still like it?"

She blinked at him. "And risk not learning all these spells you all know?"

He gave a laugh, though it seemed tighter and more forced than it had been only the day before, and she could have sworn that for a moment pain flickered through his eyes. Phanta had, for sure, become suddenly more alert, her onyx eyes watching him from her perch. Darren had even twitched slightly beside her, and Merynes had once more crouched ready to pounce.

"I suppose I'll take that as a yes, then."

"As it was intended."

He led her back up to the castle, all the while having some sort of hissed argument with his familiar. Every now and then, he would tense suddenly before relaxing once more. She noticed that every time this happened, Darren would jerk and his eyes would narrow, as if he were scrutinising Harry. She didn't understand it, but vowed to ask the two of them about it later when she didn't need to keep Harry happy long enough for him to test her.

A thought crossed her mind, another one of her questions popping up. "Harry?"

He looked over at her. "Hmm?"

"What do the books mean when they say that the Hecatamae Deities chose different forms of life? If they were gods and goddesses, how could they be anything but metaphorical?"

Darren snorted. "You have a sceptic Harry!"

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "The Deities were not gods or goddesses, they were, to put it simply, the first four Hecatamae created."

"By magic?" She frowned when he nodded. "That's impossible."

"Look at it this way," He spread his hands out and swirls of coloured magic appeared around them. "You can see magic, in what you perceive as its natural and pure form, but can you speak to it? Ask it why it decided to help one spell or nullify another?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "Magic is not alive in the same sense that we are."

"Then how do you explain Hogwarts? The castle is sentient, some people are capable of communicating with her."

"Such as himself."

Harry sighed and gave Darren a pointed glare. "The Hecatamae have long believed that magic, or as they refer to it, Majick, chose to give human beings the ability to wield itself. Muggles weren't around at that point, unless you believe in evolution, which, in that case, means that they were still swinging from the trees and throwing their own excrement at each other." He paused a ghost of a grin on his lips. "Either way, four Hecatamae were created."

"Do they even have names?" She narrowed her eyes as they entered through the doors. "Time and Balance don't match up with all the other names I've found so far."

"You mean, like Jiloqa? All Hecatamae names end in 'qa'. Time and Death, were Teroqa and Daraqa, and Fate and Balance were Falanqa and Balanqa."

She frowned. "So what do their names mean?"

"Exactly what they are called now."

"Oh. Odd." She sighed and they began to climb the stairs. "What I don't get is why they say that towards the end, Hecatamae only…worshipped… Fate and Balance, if there were four of them in the beginning."

"The four deities were not immortal, not in the sense where they simply cannot die. As the first, they have infinitely longer lives than the rest of us, but they each made choices in order to continue to aid the remaining Hecatamae. Time chose to integrate himself into Majick, becoming a part of it, while Death chose mortality over a long life. Both of them are randomly reincarnated, but only within people who have Hecatamae blood, and they can only aid that individual, not become them." He raised a hand and Phanta curled her tail about his wrist, climbing down to attach herself to his arm. "Fate and Balance chose to live until Majick died, which is as close to immortality as you can get, since Majick cannot die. They even chose to bring the Guilds together, basing the current Guild Council on the Council of the High Shamans."

Hermione blinked. "Wow. I really didn't think you would know all of that. None of the books I can find even say one word of it."

Darren laughed. "You won't find any either. Maybe some old pureblood families have a book or two, but most of the information is passed down generation to generation."

She gave him a sharp look. "You're a pureblood."

He grinned at her, unaffected by the meaning behind what she'd said. "Born one yes, but being a werewolf makes me a halfblood. And yeah, my family taught me about the Hecatamae."

Harry didn't say anything as he opened the door to the Room of Requirement. Hermione gave him an odd look before stepping through, where her mouth fell open at what he'd chosen. In the very centre of the room, was a single door, ordinary and plain, with gouges scraped into it and a rusted handle.

"Harry?"

He strode into the room, Darren shutting the door quietly behind them. Harry walked over to the door and laid his hand on the wood. Before her eyes, it began to change. The wood became a deep mahogany colour, polished smooth and with an onyx handle in the shape of a dragons head.

"How on earth…"

"This," he said, gesturing at the door. "Is called the Exitus Door. It's a door that was created by Death before he succumbed to mortality in one of his more recent reincarnations, probably one about eight hundred years ago, which was around the time the Guilds began to seek a way to move about more quick and more silent than a portkey or Aparation. It works similar to this Room, in that a single thought, while you touch it, turns it into a door similar to the one you would walk through once you opened it."

"Instant transportation, very handy." Darren gave her a smile as he leaned against the wall near the door back into Hogwarts. "And extremely complicated magic. Harry understands it, but I don't think anyone else does. His blood allows him to see, do, feel and understand everything wizards and witches like me and you can only wish to have a tenth of. Everything he says, has more weight and meaning behind it than we can comprehend, even if we were to question him non stop until he had exhausted every method of explanation."

"You're saying that…"

"That you should listen, make a decision, and tell me what you answer is."

Hermione blinked, utterly confused. Harry sighed and walked over to her, gently leading her to the mahogany door. "Stop confusing her, Darren. If the Circle or the pack has questions for her, than they can wait until after the full moon."

He opened the door and she frowned when she stepped through, seeing an odd room that had only two walls and no ceiling. The chilly wind that was whining through the room made her shiver, not to mention the touch of magic that was both cold and dark. Another shivered coursed through her when she glanced at Harry and saw that not only was the magic about her reaching for him, but he seemed to be radiating an aura so powerful that his own unique magic touched her skin like a hot brand. She wondered, briefly, whether she would become cold and distant if she passed this test and learned the Dark Arts. But then she remembered that the Durmstrang students always seemed to bounce about, cheerful, even with everything they'd dealt with. None of them had turned out like the Dark wizards she'd seen; none of them were half crazed.

Because all of them were capable of dealing with the corruptive influence of the magic.

Deciding that perhaps she should keep in mind what Harry had said about Empathic Magic, she pushed her fear away and watched as he stepped up beside her. But another question was burning in her mind, and she felt she deserved an answer. "Harry? Who, or what, are the Circle?"

He smirked. "The Circle are a group of people my mate decided I needed in order to be protected."

"You mean the mate whose an older man, and a Hogwarts alumni?"

"Yes, the very same. Not like I could have more than one mate, anyway."

"Just how old is your mate?"

He looked at her, and she saw a glimpse of love shining in the beautiful emerald orbs. "Older than you would expect."

He said nothing more and she got the feeling she wouldn't get any more from him on the subject. Of the few times in the last day or so where she'd tried to find out more about him and his mysterious mate, he'd clammed up and shot her a look so deadly she was almost convinced he'd been inducted into the Assassins Guild. But that was ridiculous, right?

He gestured around the room, moving his hand through the air with a light flourish. "This is an arena of sorts. Origionally it was only used to test sixth and seventh students. Now, however, all students are tested to varying degrees so as to ensure that corruption does not flow from the magic taught and into their own Cores. It's why Durmstrang turned out less wizards or witches corrupted by the Dark than any other school in the past, and why there are none now."

She nodded. "How are we doing this anyway?"

"This test, is not something that involves theory or practical work, it involves a person travelling through your Core and discovering your potential. I once showed Remus how to do such a thing, and he remembered it when he came to teach. Now, I am the person who keeps an eye on who learns what. I can make the experience less painful, though I have to warn you, if you are too Light orientated allowing my magic in will cause you a good deal of pain."

"Because you are Dark."

"Because I am Grey. I am probably leaning more towards the Dark than ever before, but I've still managed to keep myself somewhere in the centre of things."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione swallowed. "Alright then. Why here though?"

"Your Core is essentially locked, what I'll be doing is cracking it open enough for my magic to get in. some of your own magic will venture into the outside world, so that you remain aware at all times."

He led her over to one of the non-existing walls, and she saw that they were high above some sort of rocky mountain. She could see a herd, or flock, of the Battle Pegasi and guessed they were in Bulgaria. They sat along the edge and the hum of Harry's magic surrounded her, banishing the chill of the area they sat in. for a time she had no idea what was going on, his eyes were closed and he was concentrating, but then she suddenly sunk into herself.

She seemed to move past a solid barrier, she saw a massive sphere of moving magic, before her feet slammed into hard ground and she stumbled. Looking up, her eyes took in the sight of a beautiful library, calm and silent, with no rampaging Gryffindor's to mess with the books.

"Curious, that your magic chooses this to create."

She blinked at looked over at Harry. He was standing by one of the bookcases, dressed in dark greys with a hood pushed back enough so that his face was visible. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't think I've ever seen someone's hideaway take on the form of a library. Though, I suppose with you it makes sense." He turned and let his fingers trail over the spines of the books, which sent a shiver through her.

"What does your's look like? And your mates?"

"Mine to me resembles paradise itself. Forests and streams, plenty of blue sky for Phanta to fly. My mates is, strangely enough, a cosy little cottage with a large fireplace. Warm and inviting, sort of like his heart, in a way."

Hermione gave him a soft smile. Whenever Harry talked of his mate, which was rather rare, she could see and hear the love he felt and that which seemed to surround him. She wondered, though, whether or not his mate truly deserved such devotion. "What do we do now? I hardly see this as a test of my magic."

He looked up from the shelf he'd been investigated and blinked at her before shaking his head a little; she got the odd feeling that in the real world he was doing it as well. "This is part of the test. Magic wise, I'm Dark enough to cause extreme discomfort if you're too Light orientated. The fact we're standing here together indicates that you are at least partially Grey. But you are right, the whole test doesn't include me standing here and admiring the books." He cocked his head to the side and gave her a searching look, which truly felt like it was. "Did you know that there are more books relating to Dark magic's, than anything else?"

"What?" she turned and peered at the spines of the books lining one of the shelves. "My god…what does that mean?"

"It means, if I'm reading this right, that you're intellectually capable of understanding those particular branches of magic, keeping in mind that they are essentially Empathic and not truly Dark without the intent. What I need to know is whether you have the ability to actually cast and hold a spell of that nature."

"How do we do that?"

"You do nothing." He frowned and plucked a slim black leather bound book of the shelf. "I will simply let the Darker aspects of my own magic seek the ability. This book," he waved the item towards her. "Is something I've created within this place in order to test that. You shouldn't feel much pain, if anything, but tell me if you even get a twinge of discomfort."

She nodded, nervously watching as he opened the book and tendrils of pitch black magic curled around his wrists, softly touching and turning the pages within. There was an odd feeling inside of her, and it felt as if some sort of soothing warmth was moving through her.

"Anything?"

He didn't lift his eyes, focusing completely on the book. "Just…warmth."

"Good, bad?"

"Good."

Harry grinned, slamming the book shut, the tendrils of magic vanishing as he did so. "Right. Well, that was the first test. On to the next!"

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

Harry yawned, cracking his jaw and blinking blearily as he travelled along the corridor, one hand trailing along the stone wall. If he were to look at his hand, he would see the bright tendrils of magic reaching out from the wall to meet the darker ones of his own magic. Hogwarts was beginning to work towards achieving his own aims, forsaking those of the Headmaster she was meant to obey without question or thought to the contrary. But Harry didn't look at his hand, and didn't see the magic, though he could feel the warmth of it travel through his limbs.

He was tired from the test with Hermione. There was only one of the seven aspects he'd tested her for that she'd be unable to physically learn. Having the knowledge was no danger to her, since he doubted she would ever have the specific type of magic required. She'd easily passed Black, Elemental, and Soul magics, but it was with Faresa and Coryi magics that she seemed to excel in. he hadn't expected it, since he was one of only seven people capable of even calling forth a blink of that power, but unlike the other six he had very little trouble with it.

Faresa and Coryi magics had begun with Angels and Demons, respectfully, and had been easily learned by the Hecatamae back before Wichards even began to dot the worlds populations. Faresa was the art of using pure magic, taking it from the world around you and cleanse it through your own Core before releasing it in powerful spells, most of which centred around Healing magics, which she'd also passed. On the other hand, Coryi magic took more power, unless the castor was particularly Dark, and drew in power from the emotions of both yourself and others around you, and was focused on devastating spells that could kill and decimate entire towns in the blink of an eye, so it stood to reason that Hermione could easily cast Chaos spells.

The last aspect, and the one she'd never really have enough defences against, was Necromantic magic. She'd protested, for a good twenty minutes…at least she'd stopped when he explained that even he could only inhabit another persons Core for so long before the exhaustion would take its toll. And no one wanted that, because his already weakening Shields would fall open far enough for his own Wild Magic to attack the nearest person, namely Hermione herself.

He had to admit though, he was surprised at the end result; Hermione was fairly Dark. Not quite as Dark as, say, Tom, but enough that even the almost result of Grey was unable to be used. In fact, she sat a little closer to Grey than he did, if he was perfectly honest with himself. He was Darker than he used to be, but it was easily explained through what he'd been doing, who he was forever bonded to and what had transpired since Dumbledore had foolishly walked into the Guild Council for the first time.

So, Hermione was Dark/Grey. It wasn't something he had honestly expected from her.

He sighed and raised a hand, pushing open the portrait before the door to the brand new dorms for the Durmstrang students. Hogwarts had created and designed the dorms, warding them fairly heavily so that nothing Dumbledore did could penetrate through them. The announcement had been made at dinner while he and Hermione had been gone, but Mere had giddily told him that Gryffindor had looked as if Tom's public half, Voldemort, had suddenly decided that dancing about in a skin tight, and bright yellow, leotard was considered good entertainment and would aid in the development of young magical minds.

You do realise that that image is rather strange?

Harry gave a soft smile as he stepped into the empty common room. Tom. How are you feeling?

What did you meant by what you said?

About Merrick?

Yes.

Did you trust what he said?

It makes no sense, why would you refuse the bond if all that'd happened had been an innocent accident during Quidditch practice, which I know has not occurred as yet. Is that match even going to go ahead?

If Dan can convince Dumbledore, yes. What did you think really happened?

Someone hurt you, he could practically hear his mate growling in frustration, but beyond that, I can find nothing, just a void of memory. The spell he cast was fairly strong.

It was powerful enough that my own magic, that that is always with you, could not force it away. I'll have to give you the memory, but it has to be done in person.

Harry climbed the stairs up into the room that had his own name on the gold plaque. In fact, it was the only name. He opened the door and blinked at the visible hum of wards and spells, all designed to leave a gap in the schools wards and to mask the presence of anyone within. Including a mate who happened to have an ability to control magic near to his own level.

Tom?

Yes?

Come to me?

He closed the door, leaning back against it and rubbing his face tiredly.

"You look like you could use some sleep."

He looked up and smiled softly at Tom, who looked as if he'd jumped out of bed. "I could, but this is more important."

Tom growled softly, stepping closer and placing his hands beside Harry's head, leaning down and whispering in his ear. "Then fix it."

Harry shivered, letting out a shaky breath as the link opened completely and Tom's own desire slammed into him, his own rising suddenly to meet it. "Why does this feel familiar?"

Tom grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging him over to the large bed in the centre of the room. "Because the last time I visited you in a bedroom, I fucked you against a door?"

Emerald eyes blinked slowly. "I knew that, I was being sarcastic."

"Sure you were."

Harry growled. "Sit down and shut the god damn link, or I won't be able to get this done!"

His mate snorted, but the flow of desire stopped, leaving his head light and the world feeling oddly as if it were tilting. "Happy?"

"Not really." He sighed and kneeled on the floor, folding his arms on Tom's knees and resting his chin on them. "I need you to stay perfectly still, I'll transfer my own memory of what we told you." Tom nodded and Harry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he focused on pulling Hogwarts magic in so that he could push the memory along the link, copying it into Tom's mind.

Cold. Pain. Fear. Loss. Refusal. Weakness. Death. Truth. Confrontation.

Harry blinked as he pulled back, gazing up as he watched Tom relive the memory from his own perspective. He knew the moment when his mate finished watching it, by the way his neck tensed, his hands clenched into fists and his eyes suddenly blazed blood red.

"Bastard!" Tom snarled, standing up and stomping over to the door, hand on the handle before Harry yanked him back. "Let me go, Harry!"

"No!" Emerald eyes flashed, the bright colour suddenly darkening and hardening. "Revenge for the act is mine, you know that. If you claim it, this will never leave me. The act is done; you cannot change that by announcing to the whole of Hogwarts just who the majority of us support in this war. Please, Tom, don't force my hand."

"And what would you do if I walked out of this room?"

Harry swallowed. "Anything I'd have to. But please don't make me."

Red eyes darkened back to brown, filling rapidly with concern. "How can you so easily ignore what this has done?"

"I'm not ignoring it, Tom, I'm simply focusing on what's at hand. I have the safety of sixty-two students to worry about, not to mention a new one coming in from now on. Besides, I've been given the contract on Weasley's life."

Tom blinked. "You know, you could have said that earlier."

Harry shrugged. "Bed?"

His mate grinned. "Unless you want the door again?"

A/N: That took forever to write…gah, I'm going to bed now, tired from three full days work and only five and a half hours of sleep…