Harry Potter and the Cult of Shadows

by chadsgirl824

AFTER HOGWARTS Harry now works at Hogwarts and has his hands full as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. But Voldemort's fate is still a mystery and dark forces are closer than anyone imagines. Written before OotP

2. Chapter 2

"Sirius tried to talk you out of coming?" Mel asked before Harry could make any reply. She was looking intently at him, searching his eyes. "This wouldn't have anything to do with those shadow things from the other day, would it?"

"Shadow things?" Ron and Hermione asked in unison, giving Harry looks identical to Mel's.

Harry shook his head, having very much wanted to avoid this topic at least for the evening. Sighing inaudibly, he spoke in a quiet voice.

"They're called Shadow Walkers, actually. They belong to the Cult of Shadows."

"Just a minute," Ron cut in quickly, looking from Mel to Harry. "What things are called Shadow Walkers? What do you two know that we don't?"

Harry looked across the table, seeing the confused, worried stares from his friends, and knew there was no way out of telling them now. Clearing his throat and keeping his voice down, he began to explain the events that had introduced both he and Mel to the Shadow Walkers. He continued on after telling of how they escaped, to the discussion he'd had with both Sirius and Marzia…and ultimately the information that Dumbledore had been able to reveal to him.

Their food arrived as he finished speaking, and their waiter set the plates down, before politely asking if they needed anything more. Ron waved him away distractedly, not noticing the chagrined expression on the waiter's face, before looking back to Harry. No one touched their food; they were all too shocked upon hearing the news.

"Harry," Hermione began worriedly, "this is serious…these Shadow Walkers…it sounds like they wanted you…wanted…to kill you…" she trailed off.

"Dumbledore said I was safe for now because they don't know where I am," Harry replied.

"For now," Mel repeated, pointedly. "It won't take them forever to find you."

"I know that," Harry replied faintly. "But if I keep myself surrounded by other magic users…it will definitely make it harder for them to find me. Plus I was able to use the crystals against them last time…"

"Harry you don't know that that will be the way it happens if they come after you again," Hermione insisted.

"Right," Ron added, nodding firmly, "Maybe the Shadow Walkers will find a way around the crystals…or maybe the crystals won't talk…"

"Look, I'm not going to go through each day being afraid," Harry said firmly. "I may not be able to control the crystals as well as I should…but they're the only defense against these things that I have. Even Snape said that if my life's in danger the crystals will do something about it…"

"Shouldn't it be you who's doing something about it?" Ron asked. "And the crystals obeying?"

"It's not like I'm not trying," Harry said, quietly. "The lessons just…aren't going well…"

"We need to find out why they think you're a traitor," Hermione said with sudden finality in her tone. "You're positive you've never seen them before, right? Even before you came to Hogwarts?"

"I think I'd remember talking to a shadow," Harry replied, jokingly.

"Harry this is serious," Mel spoke up, her voice full of concern. "You don't remember anything at all that could be connected to these things from when you were younger? Maybe…could you possibly have gotten something…a letter…or…anything at all?"

"If anything ever came for me in the post, you can bet my uncle would have disposed of it immediately," Harry said dully. "Though I get the impression that the Shadow Walkers don't send letters…"

"And I get the impression you could have been one of them," Hermione said quietly. Harry looked up at her sharply as she continued speaking, gently. "You fit the type of person they seem to look for to join them…or you did, at least. You're an orphan who never knew your parents and felt very…out of place…with the relatives you were forced to live with…not to mention their treatment of you is exactly what the Cult of Shadows seems to be against."

"For fellow shadow walkers, yes," Harry stated. "Of which I'm not one."

"But don't you see? That would be a reason they would ask you to join," Hermione said quickly. "Maybe they did ask you…" she paused, seeming to consider for a moment. "Maybe you turned them down…inadvertently…"

"How could I inadvertently turn down an offer I didn't even realize I'd been given?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. "And why would they think I'm a traitor because of it? I'm sure not everyone who gets asked to join them accepts…"

"I don't know Harry," Hermione replied with a sigh. "I'm just trying to figure this out. What could you have done that would make the Shadow Walkers so angry at you?"

"I really don't have the slightest clue," Harry said, sitting back slowly as he spoke. "And if it's alright…can we not talk about it anymore right now? It's just that I've been over it so many times in the last few days already…"

Ron, Hermione and Mel all exchanged brief glances before looking back to Harry.

"Just tell us these things from now on, alright?" Ron asked, sincerely.

"I will," Harry nodded, knowing his friends were only acting this way out of concern. For a moment, their was an awkward silence, no one sure what to say, when Mel cleared her throat softly.

"I think…my food is cold," she said, disdainfully.

"Well now you know how it feels then," Harry said, a wry grin on his face. "After all the times I had to put up with cold meals last year because somebody just had to eat in the classrooms that were the farthest from the kitchen…"

"Oh don't even bring that up again," Mel laughed, giving Harry a look of warning.

"The tower, Ron," Harry continued, dramatically, looking imploringly at his friend. "She would choose to eat all the way up in the north tower…"

"From the kitchen?" Ron asked, a look of mock horror on his face.

"I like the view," Mel said, defensively, a tiny grin on her face.

"Besides," Hermione put in, "You didn't have to get hot food, Harry. You could have done a sandwich or a salad or something…"

"What is it with women and salads?" Ron asked, shaking his head in disgust.

"I don't understand it either," Harry shook his head sympathetically, just before Mel swatted him on the arm. "And all this hitting…" he added, playfully.

"You're right," Mel said, looking down, guiltily. "I shouldn't hit you…" she trailed off, looking back up at him, mischievously. "Next time I'll just hex you…"

"Now there's an idea," Hermione said, smiling sweetly at Ron, who looked back at her wide-eyed before turning to Harry and whispering.

"Harry…I'm sorry but I won't be inviting Mel out with us anymore…she's a bad influence on my girlfriend…"

Mel, who had been sipping her water, nearly spat it out with laughter as Ron spoke. She crumpled up her napkin and flung it softly at him, as Hermione began laughing too.

The night continued on cheerfully, the four friends having fun chatting and joking with one another. And no one brought up the topic of the Shadow Walkers for the rest of the evening.

"I'm glad you came tonight," Harry said, smiling softly at Mel when they'd apparated back to her house. When the night had finally come to a close, the four friends had taken the short walk back to the Floo Station, where Ron and Hermione had taken one of the grates back to the Burrow. Harry thanked them gratefully for everything, and told them he'd talk to them soon, before he and Mel had left together.

"I'm still surprised you didn't think I would," Mel replied with a smirk.

"It's just that I know you have a lot going on right now," Harry explained quickly.

"Well, not nearly as much as you at the moment," Mel said, suddenly appearing serious. "You probably shouldn't stay long, now that I'm thinking about it…this is a muggle neighborhood, Harry. It isn't safe for you here…"

"I'm not going to let these things keep me from seeing you," Harry said, firmly.

"I'll still see you," Mel said quickly. "I'll come visit…"

"We both know how often you'll be able to do that," Harry said quietly, knowing that it was very hard for Mel to get time to herself right now. She was the only one of her family even trying to help Jack during these last few months he had left, which Harry found utterly despicable.

"There's nothing I can do about that…" Mel began, looking down as she spoke.

"No, no," Harry interrupted quickly. "I wasn't asking you to…not at all. I know how important Jack is to you, and I would never ask you to do anything that would take away from your time with him. I'm just saying that I know this is how it is for you right now…which means…"

"I'll still see you Harry," Mel repeated softly, cutting him off. "But your safety is more important than us spending time together."

Harry clenched his teeth against the protest wanting to escape him, and nodded gently. As much as he hated to admit it, part of him was afraid to run into the Shadow Walkers again. At least when he was up against Voldemort, he knew the reason that the dark wizard was after him, but with the shadows…he had no idea.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Mel spoke again softly. "But you should really get home now, just to be on the safe side…"

"Alright," Harry nodded, reluctantly. "I'll talk to you after I get back…I'm going to Diagon Alley with Sirius tomorrow. I need to pick out the books I'm going to use for classes and such…"

"Sounds fun," Mel grinned, slowly moving closer to him, placing her hands on his arms, sliding them towards his neck. He slid his arms around her, leaning his head down as she lifted hers and they kissed, softly at first, but becoming more passionate as the seconds ticked by. Harry didn't care about anything at that moment, and he deepened the kiss, stepping forward and drawing her closer to him. Mel slid her feet back slightly, but Harry moved with her, the two of them breathing heavily as they kissed again and again, only when Mel's back came up against the wall in the foyer did they stop for a moment, as Mel turned her head away.

"You have to go," she barely whispered, pulling her hands away from him slowly as she spoke.

"I don't want to," Harry whispered back, her taste lingering in his mouth as he leant his head softly against hers, their breathing echoing in the hall.

"And I don't want you to," Mel said after a brief moment, "But you have to." Harry felt her hands pressing against his shoulders, pushing him away gently. Nodding faintly, he took a step back, seeing the reluctance he was feeling mirrored in her eyes.

"Goodnight Harry," Mel spoke again, softly, a small smile on her lips.

"Goodnight Mel," Harry replied, looking at her for a long moment, before finally taking a deep breath, and disapparating.

The next morning, Harry was shaken awake gently by Sirius, as he heard his godfather's voice.

"Harry, c'mon…it's nearly time to leave and you're still in bed."

"I know," Harry murmured back, sleepily, a lazy grin on his face. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Oh brother," Sirius replied, rolling his eyes and laughing. "That's it…up. Now. Or I'll have to take extreme measures."

Harry rolled over slowly, squinting up at his godfather.

"You w-w-wouldn't…" he yawned, stretching his arms above him.

"If you think that, then you're forgetting who you're talking to," Sirius replied with a mischievous grin on his face, fingering the pocket he always kept his wand in.

"Alright, alright," Harry laughed, propping himself up on his elbows. "See? I'm awake. But only because you don't play fair…"

"What?" Sirius exclaimed in mock outrage.

"You're saying you'll attack me while I'm wandless," Harry said, smiling. "I'd say that's not quite fair…"

"Now, now…I never said I'd attack you…" Sirius said, smirking.

"Oh…right," Harry replied, rolling his eyes and laughing as he reached for his glasses. "Not attacking…just…extreme measures. And believe me when I say I do not want to know what your idea of [Iextreme measures[/I is."

"Well, that's understandable," Sirius said, smugly, a big, toothy grin on his face. "I do have a reputation, you know…"

"Several of them, actually," Harry replied as he pushed the covers away and swung his legs over the opposite side from where his godfather was sitting.

"Yes, several of…[Iwhat?[/I" Sirius asked, stopping abruptly, and narrowing his eyes in playful suspicion. "What do you mean by that?"

"Not a thing," Harry said, an innocently shocked expression on his face. "Do you mind? I need to get dressed…" he trailed off, turning away from his godfather as he was unable to keep a straight face any longer.

"Oh, don't worry," Sirius said with a grin, standing up and heading for the door. "I'll get you back…"

Harry shook his head and laughed silently as he heard the door to his room open and close. He grabbed pants and a t-shirt out of his closet, before changing quickly. He slipped his wand into his pocket and headed to his trunk, calling on the crystals. Once he was dressed and ready, he crossed the room to the door, and headed downstairs.

"Good morning, Harry," Marzia said as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Morning," he replied, grinning.

"Ready?" Sirius asked, as he stood up from his seat at the table. Harry nodded, grabbing a few strips of bacon from the frying pan on the stove, and a piece of toast from the plate just next to it, before turning around again.

"Ready," he replied, through a mouthful of bread.

"Let's use floo powder to get there," Sirius said, walking into the living room, Harry following just behind. He grabbed the jar of it on the mantle and opened it carefully, holding it out to Harry first.

"Have fun," Marzia called out from the doorway to the kitchen.

"See you in a bit," Sirius replied, smiling back at her.

"Bye," Harry called, polishing off the end of the bacon in his hand. Sirius pulled out his wand, starting a small fire in the hearth, before stepping back and allowing Harry to toss in his handful. He waited for the flames to go a brilliant shade of green, before stepping into them.

"Diagon Alley," he called out clearly, followed by the familiar feeling of weightlessness, and the swirling rush of colors.

"Flourish and Blotts?" Sirius asked as they stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron together.

"Yes," Harry nodded, looking again at the list Dumbledore had sent him as Sirius began to tap the wall. "I have so many books to look through…"

"Well we have time, don't worry," Sirius winked as the wall began to shift in front of them. "When did Minerva say she wanted your list by?"

"She just said as soon as possible," Harry replied. "So I really want to have it all done by today…they're already sending the school letters out late as it is…"

"Yes I'd imagine everything's a bit hectic at Hogwarts this summer," Sirius nodded as they began walking up the busy street towards the bookshop. "So many changes happening."

"I know," Harry nodded faintly. "I'm sure it's got to be very stressful for McGonagall right now…what with suddenly having to run the school and find a replacement for both transfiguration and head of Gryffindor."

"Well for house heads, it has to be an instructor. You don't just hire someone for that position, you choose one of the professors who used to belong to that house."

"Well, what instructors that currently work there used to be in Gryffindor?" Harry asked. "Obviously it can't be Snape, Flitwick or Sprout…"

"Right," Sirius nodded. "I know Professor Binns was in Ravenclaw…and I have no idea whatsoever about Trelawny though I doubt very much that Minerva would ever choose her for anything."

"No definitely not," Harry laughed. "She doesn't like her very much, I've noticed."

"Well who does?" Sirius replied with a grin. "With the exception of the few misguided students that are actually impressed with her acting skills…"

"Alright so who else then?" Harry continued as they finally reached to entrance to Flourish and Blotts. "Wasn't Hagrid in Gryffindor?"

"Hagrid can't be house head," Sirius replied quickly. "Anyone who was expelled is instantly disqualified from that position."

"But he was framed…" Harry began.

"I know that, Harry," Sirius said gently. "But it doesn't change the fact that it happened."

"Yes, you're right…" Harry nodded faintly, walking slowly through the aisles of books, scanning them quickly as he moved along. "Well who else is there, then?"

"I'm not sure," Sirius replied, shaking his head. "I know the Arithmancy instructor didn't attend Hogwarts so it can't be him. The Muggle Studies and Study of Ancient Runes professors are from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff…"

"Then who's left?" Harry asked.

"You," Sirius said brightly, a wide smile suddenly crossing his face.

"Oh no," Harry said, shaking his head slowly. "She would have asked me by now, I'm sure…it can't be me. Maybe it'll be whoever she hires to teach Transfiguration…"

"Well, that's a possibility," Sirius said with a nod. "But I still think there's a good chance that…"

"No Sirius," Harry cut him off, smirking at him. "Don't even entertain the thought…if they'd wanted me to be the head of Gryffindor someone would have mentioned it by now, right? No, I'm sure it isn't going to be me."

"I don't know Harry," Sirius said in a tauntingly playful voice. "We were just saying how hectic things must be at the school…it could easily have slipped someone's mind…"

"Yes, but not McGonagall's," Harry said, firmly. "Look let's just start looking for books, ey? I really want to get my list to her tonight, if at all possible."

"Whatever you say," Sirius replied, grinning widely. Harry simply laughed at him, shaking his head faintly and turning away, ready to throw himself into the task before him. Sirius took the second parchment and went to the opposite side of the shelf from Harry to begin helping with the search. Only a few minutes had gone by, however, when Harry heard a very familiar voice from just beside him.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry looked up sharply to see Draco Malfoy standing a few feet away, looking questioningly at him.

"Looking for books, what does it look like?" Harry replied, flatly. He and Draco had been somewhat forced into working with each other during their seventh year at Hogwarts, though their relationship still wasn't quite what you would call that of friends.

"Yeah thanks, I can see that," Draco replied, sardonically.

"Well then why did you ask?" Harry said quickly.

"Because those look like school books to me," Draco replied, a sly grin on his face, "What happened? Did you get left back or something?"

"No, I didn't," Harry replied casually. "But thanks so much for asking, maybe we can chat again sometime."

"A bit cross today, are we Potter?" Draco asked, smirking as Harry began to turn away. Harry stopped for a moment, realizing he had reacted a bit harshly towards Malfoy without any real reason.

"It's just been a long week," Harry replied with a shrug, turning back to face Draco fully again. "Sorry."

"Snape been lashing out at you too?" Malfoy asked.

"Snape?" Harry replied, curiously. "No, I haven't seen him for about a week now…I'll be seeing him tomorrow though, why?"

"Well he's been stopping by my house more often lately, for our lessons. But for the past few days he's been just unbearable…he's always angry and just has no patience whatsoever."

"And you say this is strange behavior for him?" Harry asked with a wry grin.

"Towards me it is!" Draco replied insistently.

"Well now you get to know the real Snape," Harry said, smirking, before glancing back down at the list he was holding. "I think I'm in the wrong section for some of these," he muttered softly, glancing distractedly around the store. He started to walk forward, slipping past Draco and heading out of the aisle they were in. "So," he began as he moved, "what are you doing here, anyway?"

"I needed to pick up a book," Draco replied, following Harry towards the end of the aisle they were in. "For work."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, stepping out past the shelves and looking over his shoulder towards Malfoy. "Where do you work?"

But before he could hear Draco's reply, he felt something shove roughly into him from behind, pushing him forward to his knees as he dropped the few books he'd been holding and slammed his hands to the floor a split second before his face hit it. His glasses clattered harmlessly to the wooden floor as Harry pushed himself up slightly. He winced inaudibly as he felt a sudden weight on his legs, and realized that whatever had crashed into him had partly landed on top of him, and was now pushing themselves up.

Grabbing his glasses and slipping them on, Harry drew his legs up underneath him as he turned over and started to stand, not failing to catch the amused expression on Malfoy's face as he did so. He ignored Draco, however, and turned towards the person who was now briskly collecting the scattering of books they had dropped.

"Here, let me help," Harry said quickly, leaning down to help the man.

"No," the man spat fiercely, looking directly into Harry's eyes as he spoke. He had scruffy red hair that hung just below his ears and piercing blue eyes, which were glaring angrily at Harry. He was only slightly taller than Harry, and he appeared young enough to be the same age as well.

"I…but…I'm…" Harry stammered, completely taken aback by the redhead's obvious irritation. It had been this man who had knocked Harry over, after all, not the other way around.

"Do you mind?" the man spoke again harshly, as he finished collecting his books and now stood facing Harry. "You're in my way."

Harry simply stared back at him confused, but slowly stepped aside, and the man stalked past him briskly.

"Another fan of yours, Potter?" Malfoy asked cockily as the two stood looking after him.

"Oh yeah," Harry joked, shaking his head and shrugging off the man's rudeness as nothing more than that. "Couldn't you tell how happy he was to see me?" He leant down; quickly grabbing the few books that he'd dropped, and again headed across to the next aisle, to continue his search. "So you were saying," he asked Malfoy again as he started scanning through book titles. "Where is it you work now?"

"The Ministry of Magic," Draco replied casually. "I've been there for about a month now."

"Doing what?" Harry asked, pulling another book off the shelf.

"Working with cursed objects, actually," Draco replied. "Trying to experiment using new counter-curses and such."

"Do you like doing that?" Harry asked.

"It's a job," Draco shrugged. "It'll do for now."

Harry simply nodded, not bothering to press any further into Draco's personal business, but glad to hear he didn't seem to be following in his father's footsteps by taking over his old position at the ministry. And he didn't dare bring up Lucius in conversation; he knew it was still a sore subject for Draco.

"So are you going to tell me why you're looking through what seems to be all of our old school books?" Malfoy asked, nodding towards the small stack in Harry's arms.

"Well," Harry began, "remember how you were saying Snape seemed more irritated than usual lately?"

"Yeah," Draco shrugged. "So?"

"Do you know why?" Harry asked.

"I don't exactly invite him over for tea and a chat now do I?" Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "I have no idea…why?"

"Dumbledore asked me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year," Harry stated quickly.

"Oh," Draco nodded slowly, realization dawning in his eyes. "Yes that explains it," he said, an almost wicked glint shining in his eyes. "Have fun this year, Potter," he said tauntingly.

Harry ignored Draco's comment, shaking his head and beginning to flip through the pages of the book he'd just taken off the shelf.

"Look I really have to get through all of this list today," he began, distractedly.

"Yes, I have to be on my way as well," Draco replied curtly. Without another word, he turned away from where Harry stood, crossing to the front of the store to speak with the clerk at the front desk. Harry watched him go for a brief second, before turning his attention once more, back to the books.

He spent hours rummaging through row upon row of books on the dark arts, his head beginning to ache from all the reading, but he refused to stop. Sirius would check in with him every so often with any books he would find that looked promising, and finally, just as the sun was beginning to set, Harry had put together what he felt would be a good set of books to use for his course.

After taking the short stack of books up to the clerk and paying for them, Harry and Sirius left the bookstore, and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. During their walk, Harry told Sirius of his conversation with Draco, not mentioning the small spat with the man who had knocked him over, as the incident was all but forgotten by now.

When they'd finally arrived back at their house, Harry went immediately up to his room, and composed a letter to McGonagall, listing the books he wished to use for Defense Against the Dark Arts that year. When he'd finished and Hedwig was sent on her way with the delivery, he made his way back downstairs for dinner.

No sooner had he entered the kitchen, however, then he heard a soft knock at the door, and he changed course, starting towards it.

"Expecting company?" Harry heard Sirius ask of Marzia as he reached the door.

"No," Marzia replied, quickly, and the two of them came out of the kitchen just as Harry turned the handle, pulling the door open.

"Mel," Harry breathed softly, seeing instantly that she had been crying.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Harry," Mel said, her voice hoarse.

"No, no you're not," Harry replied immediately, taking one of her hands and leading her inside, letting the door swing shut softly behind them.

"Mel, sweetie, what's wrong?" Marzia asked, rushing over to her other side and putting a comforting arm around the younger girl.

"I don't know what to do," Mel said, her voice starting to hitch as she spoke and she allowed herself to be lowered onto the long couch, Harry staying right beside her. Marzia sat down on the couch as well, and Sirius took the chair facing them. "I found this…earlier today…" she stammered, sniffing softly as she held out a damp piece of paper to Harry. Sirius conjured up a handkerchief instantly, holding it out to Mel, which she accepted gratefully.

Harry looked at Mel, worriedly, as he took the letter softly from her grasp, and began to read.

Harry's heart went out to Mel as he scanned the contents of the note in his hand, and he pulled her closer to him as he lowered the letter.

"When did you say you found this?" he asked gently.

"A few hours ago," Mel sniffled softly, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "I just don't understand why he…he…" she began hitching, unable to complete the sentence, and Harry shushed her gently, letting her cry against him.

"It's alright," he whispered soothingly, knowing full well it was not, but he had to try and calm her down for now.

"What does the letter say?" Sirius asked quietly. Harry lifted his hand, holding the delicate piece of paper out for his godfather to take, thinking over what it had said.

Jack had decided he didn't want to be a burden to Mel any longer. She'd cared for him when his parents would not, but still he felt that shouldn't be her job, and had made the decision to leave before his health got any worse.

"I looked for him everywhere I thought he might be," Mel whispered hoarsely after both Sirius and Marzia had read through the letter. "I'd had the car with me, so at first I thought he couldn't have gotten far…but he must've gotten a ride from one of his friends or something while I was out. He's asked them not to stop by as often…doesn't like them to see him like this…but that's the only thing I can think of that would have gotten him so far away so quickly."

"I know you probably don't want to hear this question," Marzia began gently, placing a comforting hand on Mel's shoulder, "but have you told your parents about this?"

"Yes," Mel nodded weakly. "I went to their house when I couldn't find Jack at any of the places he used to go…I don't even know if he has money on him, or a place to stay…and he…he didn't…his…" she stammered, getting herself worked up again.

"Mel, please, don't do this to yourself," Harry whispered gently, hugging her tightly to him, feeling her shaking beneath his arms.

"His medicine," Mel finally managed to get out. "For his pain…he didn't take it with him…and my parents didn't do anything to help. They said they can't control what Jack does, and he can make his own decisions. They didn't even try to look for him…" she trailed off, bitterly.

"Then don't think about them," Sirius said firmly. "We'll do whatever we can to help you, Mel. Don't worry about it for another second."

"Thank you," Mel whispered weakly, looking gratefully across at Sirius. "But I don't know that there's anything else I can do…I've been thinking about this since I left my parents' house. I don't know where Jack is, none of his friends that I've managed to find can seem to tell me anything, and…and even if I did find him…I don't know that I could make him return."

"You can make him return, though," Sirius said softly. "If you really needed to…"

"No, I could never force him," Mel said looking almost afraid of the thought, "especially not using magic. He'd hate me then…I don't want him to…to die…angry with me," she sobbed.

"Don't think about it now," Harry said softly. "You need to rest before you make any decisions about what to do next…I can see how tired you are…" he trailed off as she rested her head back down against his shoulder.

"It's just that he doesn't have much time left…" Mel said, tearfully. "And he didn't…he didn't even let me say goodbye…"

Harry didn't reply, he just held Mel against him, letting her cry. The truth was he couldn't help but feel angry towards Jack for what he'd done. While Mel would have been against it, if Jack had told her he wanted to leave she wouldn't have stopped him in the long run…but leaving her a note and taking off was insensitive and wrong.

"You're staying here tonight, sweetie," Marzia spoke up then, rubbing Mel's back comfortingly as she spoke. "You shouldn't have to spend the night alone."

"Oh…no, no," Mel said thickly, looking suddenly exhausted as she stared tiredly up at Marzia. Her eyes were red and dark bags were only just visible underneath them, "I don't want to be any tr-tr-trouble…" she trailed off, unable to stifle a very large yawn.

"Don't be silly," Marzia replied with a reassuring grin. "You're always welcome here. Besides, I insist."

"I second that," Sirius spoke up, smiling gently at Mel. "I'll go get your bed set up now," he said, standing from his seat and heading for the stairs.

"And I'll put on some tea," Marzia said, heading out to the kitchen.

"And I'll stay with you," Harry said tenderly, resting his chin lightly against Mel's soft hair. "For as long as you need me to."

"I don't know what to do, Harry," Mel whispered sadly, faint tears running down her face and staining his now soaked shirt.

"Don't think about it right now," Harry whispered back, holding her close, "I'm here for you…whatever you need, I'm right there beside you, but you need to get some rest before we do anything. You're exhausted Mel…and I don't want you…" he trailed off, the sounds of her deep breathing reaching his ears in an instant. She'd fallen asleep against his chest in a matter of seconds.

Harry smiled lovingly down at her, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face, his fingertips caressing her soft skin as he did so. He kissed the top of her forehead, her sweet scent that he loved so much filling him entirely.

"Out already, is she?" Marzia's voice whispered. Harry glanced up slowly to see her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them and smiling softly.

"Yes," he nodded faintly, not wanting to wake her up with any sudden movements.

"Alright," Sirius called out, as his heavy feet began to thud down the stairs. "You're all…"

"Shhh!" Marzia hushed him instantly, rushing towards the stairs and gesturing for him to keep it down. For a moment, everyone went utterly still, but Mel hadn't even flinched in her slumber.

"Wow," Harry whispered, smirking up at his godfather. "She must be a very deep sleeper to have slept through all that clatter…"

"You just keep your mouth shut," Sirius replied, smirking back at his godson. "Would you like me to bring her upstairs?"

"No, I'll take her," Harry replied softly, not really wanting to move Mel for fear it might wake her up, but knowing she needed a good night's rest. Moving slowly, Harry slipped his left arm under her legs, his right arm already around her back, and gently scooped her up off the couch. He paused for a moment, making sure he had a firm hold on her, before starting towards the stairs.

Carefully he made his way up, and started quickly for the room just next to his. The bed, that was normally dismantled and in the room's large closet, was against the far wall and made up with fresh, clean sheets.

Lowering Mel onto the soft mattress, he rested her head against the feathery pillows and slipped his arms out from under her, before moving down to the end of the bed. Gently, he slipped her small shoes off of her feet, and placed them against the wall by the foot of the bed.

"Sweet dreams, Mel," Harry whispered softly as he leant down, kissing her briefly. She let out a faint moan, rolling over on her side as she did so, but Harry was glad to see how relaxed she looked. Moving quietly, he crept back across the room, looking over his shoulder at her once more, before he extinguished the candle by the door, and stepped through into the hall.

The following day, Mel thanked Harry, Sirius and Marzia for their help, but told them she had to be getting back home. If Jack, for whatever reason, tried to reach her, she wanted to be there, and she was considering going out to look for him again.

Harry wanted to go with her, to help or just to be there for her, but no sooner had the offer left his mouth than all three people in the room with him told him no.

"You know you can't be out in the open like that," Sirius said gently.

"Surrounded only by muggles," Marzia added.

Harry grudgingly nodded, feeling all too frustrated with the situation and how very rapidly it was starting to control his life. Mel pulled him aside just before she left, to thank him again for all he'd done for her. She assured him she would be fine, and would let him know if anything changed or if she heard from Jack, before kissing him good-bye, and disapparating, back to her house.

Harry didn't have much time to think on the events of late, however, as it was nearly time for Snape to arrive for their weekly lesson. Sirius and Marzia were going into Diagon Alley that day, to pick up a few things they were out of around the house, and to make sure, as always, that they weren't around to distract Harry from his lesson.

"I'm going to take your robes with me too," Marzia said to Harry coming into his room as he was about to grab the trunk of crystals to bring them downstairs. "You can keep one set of them with the Gryffindor badge on it, but McGonagall made it clear that as a professor you had to wear the Hogwarts badge on your robes during all classes."

"Yes, I know," Harry nodded, "thanks for taking them."

"It's no trouble," Marzia grinned. "They all fit you alright still? Nothing needs to be altered?"

"No, they're fine," Harry replied. "It's only been a few months since I've worn them and they fit me just fine then."

"Good," Marzia said, carefully laying four of Harry's robes over her arm, flattening them against each other so they wouldn't wrinkle. "Have fun tonight," she said playfully as she winked at Harry and started for the door.

"Oh right," Harry called after her, sardonically, "I'm sure this will be the highlight of my week…" Shaking his head and laughing quietly, Harry drew out his wand; he lifted his trunk off the floor, and directed it out into the hall quickly. Once he was in the den, he set the chest down gently, and checked his watch. Snape should be there any second.

Leaning against one arm of the couch, Harry waited, wondering how exactly this lesson would go. If Snape knew that Harry was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, which by now was a definite possibility, than he would most certainly be less than bearable. Harry shook his head, thinking there was nothing to be done about Snape's behavior now, he could only hope it wouldn't have any negative effects on the lessons, as they were unproductive enough as it was.

As the minutes ticked by, and Snape still hadn't arrived, Harry began to wonder what could be keeping him. If Snape couldn't make it by the time they'd set up he'd always let Harry know in the past, it wasn't like him to just not show up.

No sooner had the thought crossed Harry's mind however, than a loud popping sound filled the air and Snape apparated into the room, several feet from where Harry stood.

"Professor Snape," Harry said, stepping away from the couch towards his guest, "I was getting worried."

"What for?" Snape nearly spat at him, and Harry could see the fresh anger in the potion master's eyes. He had to force himself not to take a step back as he spoke again.

"Well…you're late…and I…"

"A few minutes is no reason to sound any alarms, Potter," Snape replied, curtly, sneering at him.

"I realize that," Harry said, keeping his voice steady, "but you're nearly half an hour late…"

"If I'm late it's really none of your concern, Potter," Snape replied, harshly, "I have many important things to do with my time besides visit you."

"I wouldn't exactly call this a friendly visit," Harry said evenly, feeling a twinge of anger as he spoke.

"And if you'd been listening, you might have realized I never said it was a friendly visit…merely a visit, a most unwanted one I might add…" he trailed off darkly, before snapping his eyes up to meet Harry's own once more. "Well are you ready, then? I don't want to be here all day."

"I have the crystals right here," Harry said quietly, pointing to the trunk just behind him.

"Then I suggest you call on them so we can get on with this," Snape said, impatiently.

Harry, however, didn't move. He glared darkly at Snape for a brief moment before speaking firmly.

"What's wrong, Professor Snape? We both know that we're not going to get anywhere in this lesson the way it's starting off."

"I've already said, it's none of your concern, Potter," Snape hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I think it is," Harry said quickly, before he lost his nerve, "as it's delayed our lesson by more than half an hour already I'd say it is my concern, because now it's affecting my time as well as yours."

Harry didn't think it was possible for Snape to appear more furious than he had been, but he was wrong. The potions master looked positively enraged, and he slowly advanced on Harry, stalking aggressively across the room. Harry hated how Snape still towered over him by several inches, as he glared up at his rigid form and dark eyes.

"Call on the crystals now, Mr. Potter," Snape hissed, icily. "I refuse to discuss my personal affairs with you because you feel you are owed an explanation."

Harry remained perfectly still, his gaze fixed on Snape's, getting the distinct feeling he knew exactly what was causing today's tantrum. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position.

"I don't have all day, Mr. Potter," Snape said curtly. "If you don't mind…"

"Fine," Harry said flatly, turning on the spot and bending down to unlock the trunk. He didn't know why, but he felt Snape must have been late after speaking with either Dumbledore or McGonagall about the Dark Arts position, but what Harry didn't know, was whether or not Snape knew that he, Harry, was the one who had been offered it. He shook the thought from his head, however, and quickly called upon the crystals as the lid of the chest swung open. As he stood up and turned to face Snape, however, he immediately noticed the expression on the potion master's face had changed. He was still quite angry, but now he looked both shocked and defeated as well.

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, confused by what could have caused this strange mood swing. "Are you…?"

"Tonight's session is cancelled," Snape spoke, barely a whisper, but with a definite edge in his voice.

"What? Why?" Harry exclaimed as Snape snatched up his coat, which he'd thrown over the back of the couch only moments ago.

The potions master offered no reply, however, and didn't even give Harry a second glance, before disapparating from the room.

Harry stood there in stunned silence for a long moment, wondering what on earth could have caused Snape to react the way he did, when suddenly it came to him, hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Snape must have caught one of his thoughts again, and this time, it had been the one thing Harry would want to keep from him above all else. Snape had heard Harry thinking about how he'd been offered the Dark Arts position…he knew Harry had gotten it over him.

Sighing in frustration, Harry called the crystals back immediately, not in the mood to hear their endless banter at the moment, and placed them back into the trunk, before flopping over the arm of the sofa, and lying back on the comfortable surface.

This was a mess, obviously. He'd have to tell Sirius what happened…possibly even Dumbledore. Snape had just up and left before they'd had a chance to begin their lesson, and Harry had no doubt he'd do it again, for the same reasons. Bringing his hands up to his head, Harry ran his fingers through his mass of black hair, and waited for the others to return.

"I can't believe how childish that man is," Sirius spoke in quiet disgust as Harry finished explaining what had happened during his brief visit with Snape. The two men and Marzia were all standing near the fireplace, as Harry had told them of the evening's events the moment they'd arrived. "I know he's angry, but to just leave like that…"

"Sirius, calm down," Marzia said firmly, putting a gentle hand on his arm, seeing he was getting himself worked up. "It was probably just a shock for him to find out…if that is, in fact, what caused him to leave."

"Marzia, this is Snape's responsibility," Sirius shot back, seeming annoyed, "his duty. He can't just decide he isn't going to help Harry because he's unhappy that he didn't get what he wanted. His little temper tantrum isn't going to get him anywhere."

"I'm not saying what he did was right, Sirius," Marzia relied, sharply. "But we all know how badly Snape wants that Dark Arts position…his reaction doesn't exactly come as a surprise."

"He should know better," Sirius said, refusing to give up the argument. "This is too important…"

"Sirius, it's fine," Harry spoke up at last, not wanting to hear them argue any longer. "Dumbledore asked me to stop by and see him at the ministry tomorrow, I'll ask him what he thinks I should do."

"You shouldn't have to be asking him though," Sirius insisted, still very irritated. "If that man would just let go of this stupid grudge…"

"Oh you mean just like you've done for him?" Marzia asked, wryly. "Forgive and forget now, is it?"

Sirius looked at Marzia, utterly speechless for a brief moment, his eyes widening in surprise, before his face slowly broke out into a large grin.

"You need to stop doing that," he said reprovingly, slipping an arm around her slim waste and pulling her closer.

"Stop doing what?" Marzia inquired, innocently.

"Pointing out when I'm wrong," Sirius replied, keeping an entirely straight face. "I really don't like to be wrong, you know…"

"So I've noticed," Marzia replied, trying not to laugh.

"Thank you," Harry spoke up, smiling at Marzia as she winked back at him.

"Hey!" Sirius cried, feigning insult. "Whose side are you on?"

"Whichever one doesn't give me a headache," Harry replied with an innocent shrug, then before Sirius could make a reply, he slipped quickly past his godfather and Marzia. "Well you two probably want to be alone…and I need to get this back upstairs…" he said quickly, before lifting the trunk of crystals with the use of his wand, and starting up for his room.

"Dinner's in an hour," Marzia called out after him.

"Which you won't be getting any of!" Sirius called out, pretending to be strict.

"Oh let him be," Marzia admonished him, swatting at his arm. "Or there'll be something you won't be getting any of either."

Harry simply laughed to himself, hearing their banter grow fainter as he finally reached the door to his room, and stepped inside.

The next morning Harry woke up early, and quickly dressed in a set of plain blue robes. He would have preferred to wear anything other than this, however he felt it was necessary. He'd never been inside the Ministry building in his life, but he suspected it would be a good idea on his part to wear robes rather than a pair of jeans.

Doing his best to flatten his persistently unruly hair to no avail, Harry went through his usual morning routine, collecting his wand, his watch and the crystals, before heading downstairs.

As it was the weekend, both Sirius and Marzia were still asleep, so Harry grabbed a quick piece of toast, before taking the floo network to the ministry building. He stepped out into the surprisingly busy atrium, which was very sharp and pointed looking. Everything was made of marble in blue, gray and black tones. There were giant, towering pillars that stretched up several stories to the spherical ceiling, which was made of glass, and a row of windows all along the entire first floor as far as he could see.

Harry didn't want to waste any more time however, as he wasn't sure exactly how long Dumbledore would be able to speak with him, and set off through the throngs of people, making his way to the front desk.

"Help you?" the young woman attending the desk asked absently, without looking up as Harry approached her.

"Yes…I'm…um…I have a meeting with Prof…er…Albus Dumbledore," Harry stammered, feeling a bit thick at the moment. The young woman still didn't look up at Harry, quite consumed with what looked to be a fashion magazine in front of her on the desk. She nodded her head, her short brown hair shifting as she did so, and replied in a monotonous tone.

"Yes he said he'd be expecting you…sixth floor, take a left."

"Thank you," Harry murmured quietly, before stepping away and taking a glance around. He spotted a door several feet away that was labeled 'Stairs' which as far as he could tell, seemed to be the only way up. Deciding it was probably better than whatever enchanted alternative to an elevator the wizarding world might come up with, Harry started towards the door, pushing it open with a shrill squealing noise, and making his way up.

It was obvious immediately that no one ever used the stairs in this building, they were very sturdy, but dusty. The lights were very dim, and Harry had to count the levels as he rose through them, due to the fact that the signs showing the floor he was on were too dirty to read clearly. When at last he reached the sixth floor, he noticed with faint amusement that there was a heavily locked broom closet just beside the door that led out into the hall. Obviously, no one found it necessary to clean the stairway, period. Laughing quietly to himself, he knew he must've missed whatever way it was that wizards normally used to get from floor to floor in this building, but didn't think much on it as he pushed the door open and stepped through.

Harry started off to his left in the utterly vacant corridor, unsure of where to go from here. The woman at the desk had said to go left, though Harry was now realizing she must have assumed he wouldn't be taking the stairs. Moving slowly, he searched the walls and doors, for any signs that might indicate which way the head minister's office would be, when he heard a spiteful voice call out from just a few feet behind him.

"Lost, Mr. Potter?" the sneering voice asked.

Harry spun around to find Marshall Thurston standing nearby, a stiff expression on his bony face. Despite an appearance that suggested he was quite old, Thurston always spoke demandingly, with a severe, sharp look to his features.

"Hello Mr. Thurston," Harry said politely, nodding at the tall, gray-haired man. "I was just on my way to see Albus Dumbledore."

"Well you're going the wrong way," Thurston replied curtly, a taunting gleam in his dark brown eyes. "Not that I'd expect you to ask for help for something as small as this…Harry Potter never needs help…"

"Well thanks so much for all of yours," Harry replied, scathingly as he started towards Thurston, intending to simply pass him by and continue his search.

"Oh so this is an important meeting you have scheduled?" Thurston asked, seeing Harry's rush to get by and ignoring his comment. "He's not sworn in as head minister yet, you know. And such a pity it is that you won't be here to see it happen."

Harry stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes at Thurston.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, quietly.

"Only that the ceremony takes place on September 1st," Thurston replied with a smug grin. "You'll be at Hogwarts, won't you? I heard you'll be teaching at the school this year. Defense Against the Dark Arts, correct?"

"That's right," Harry replied, stiffly. "How do you know?"

"I may not have been elected head minister," Thurston replied, his expression darkening, "but I'm still a very important member of the ministry. Dumbledore may not need my approval for who he hires at that school…but he still has an obligation to inform certain individual of his decisions."

"I'm sure he does," Harry replied with a nod, wanting the conversation to be over. Thurston lifted his head up, sticking his pointy nose in the air arrogantly.

"Take a right at that corner, pass the grates on your left and it's the first door on your right," he said, gesturing at the corridor beyond Harry. "I'll be seeing you, Mr. Potter," he added with an ominous smirk, before turning briskly, his robes lashing out around him as he moved, and stalking down the hall.

Harry stared after him for a moment, shaking his head as he watched the older man go, before turning back around and starting off in the direction Thurston had pointed him. He saw the oversized grates immediately, and assumed they must be the way any other wizard would have taken to reach this floor, before he came across the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

Raising his hand, he gave a gentle knock, before pushing the door open slowly.

"Harry," Dumbledore's voice floated over to him, pleasantly. "Come in, please."

"Good morning Albus," Harry said, grinning. He still couldn't get used to calling Professor Dumbledore by his first name, but he wasn't having as much trouble remembering to do so anymore.

"As you can see, this office is still slightly out of order," Dumbledore chuckled, gesturing to where several boxes lay in the corner of the room. "But I am working on it."

Harry glanced around the cluttered office. He recognized a great many items that he would always see when he visited the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. It would be very strange not to see them there this year. Fawkes' perch was set up already, and the phoenix was busy preening away at its brilliant red feathers. There were several trinkets on the desk that he remembered from before, an antique bronze clock, a crystal ball on a black marble base, and a glass paperweight with a brilliant prism of sparks shooting off inside of it.

"Those are mostly books then?" Harry asked, pointing to the boxes.

"Mostly, yes," Dumbledore nodded. "However, the state of my office is not the reason I asked you here this morning. I need to ask you a question, about the crystals."

"Alright," Harry replied, uncertainly, not sure if he'd even be able to answer.

"I know you are still in the process of learning all you can about the stones," Dumbledore began. "However, my question to you, is how well you are able to handle them thus far. I regretfully have been unable to keep up with your training as well as I would have liked, and so therefore I must ask you directly."

"It's not going as well as I'd hoped," Harry replied honestly, shaking his head faintly and taking a seat across the desk from Dumbledore.

"Are you planning on continuing your training while you're at Hogwarts?"

"Well…I'm not sure," Harry replied. "I don't know if Professor Snape wants to continue with our sessions."

"Why is that?" Dumbledore inquired.

"He…well…I'm not sure exactly what happened, but…last night he left…before we could even begin our lesson. I think there's a possibility he found out that I would be taking the Dark Arts position…"

"Did you tell him this?" Dumbledore asked, curiously.

"No," Harry replied. "But I think he heard me…when I was thinking about it."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore nodded, "I do recall you telling me that he, as your instructor, has this ability."

"Yes well he just ran off, not bothering to explain himself," Harry said, flatly. "So I can't really be sure if that's exactly what it was…though the timing seems a little too coincidental for it to be anything else."

"Would you like me to speak with him?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh no," Harry said, quickly, shaking his head but grinning slightly. "No, thank you, but I don't want it to seem as if I were telling on him or anything. I'll just talk to him at our next lesson…if he shows up…" Harry trailed off, wondering if the potions master would be stopping by again at all.

"Then I shall leave the matter of your training in your hands," Dumbledore replied with a nod. "However, I am going to keep watch on him to make sure that he is still making you the wolfsbane potion…that is not something he can simply decide to do as he feels like it, and if he feels he can no longer handle this task, I will need to find someone else immediately."

Harry didn't argue this, as he agreed completely. The wolfsbane potion was not something to fool around with. It was imperative that he have it on time each month…or the results could be disastrous.

"Can I ask, sir, why is it you wanted to know how I've been doing with the crystals in the first place?" Harry asked, curiously. "Not that I don't understand why exactly, but…why now?"

"I've been doing a bit of thinking on the matter of your powers as a Psion, Harry," Dumbledore replied evenly. "I don't know how much Severus has told you…"

"Told me about what?" Harry interrupted, curiously. "About my powers? We don't really talk much about them…we spend most of the time just trying to establish some form of communication between the two of us…but the crystals just…won't let us…"

Dumbledore nodded faintly, meeting Harry's gaze before continuing.

"Well from the brief discussion I was able to have with Severus, I gathered he is as frustrated as you are on the matter. The crystals are uncooperative, and are controlling you more so than you are controlling them."

"I'm trying professor, I really am," Harry explained quickly. "It's not that I want to cause problems during our lessons."

"Oh do not worry, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled silently, "I believe you most certainly do not want to cause problems or delays in your training. But the fact remains that the lessons are not progressing along as we all hoped they would."

"I know sir, and I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. "It's just that…"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "Listen to me for a moment."

Harry stopped speaking and looked up into Dumbledore's kind eyes.

"I am not angry at you, or upset in any way, at how your training is moving along," Dumbledore began firmly. "That is between you and Severus, and I have no knowledge or right to interfere. What I am worried about however, is what effect this has on the powers you use, when they are channeled through the stones."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, uncertainly.

"A fully trained Psion can use the crystals as he chooses, and they obey, without question," Dumbledore began. "Now in your particular situation, you have had no choice but to use the stones, and let them do most of the work for you. My only concern with this is that the crystals, while made up of your memories and knowledge, are still sentient in their own right. If you do not have exclusive control over the power they emit, I wonder if they are truly only doing as you ask."

"Do you think they have a reason to do otherwise?" Harry asked, curiously.

"I do not know," Dumbledore admitted. "To be perfectly honest, I would not normally give this a second thought. After all, you were able to hold back the death eaters and fend off the entities with the help of the stones."

"But Voldemort…" Harry said quietly.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "What happened to Voldemort remains an enigma, and that is why I question the power of the stones while you do not have full control over them. I have already told you that I believe Voldemort was able to escape that day, but how he did so is a mystery. I believe something happened while you were in his mind…something that gave him a way out…"

"How?" Harry whispered, sitting utterly still in his chair.

"I do not know," Dumbledore replied quietly, shaking his head slowly, before looking into Harry's eyes again. "I remember you saying your scar had stopped hurting you that night as well, while you were still in Voldemort's presence. Has it acted up at all since then?"

"Not even once," Harry replied quickly. "I haven't felt anything from it at all."

"It's all very curious indeed," Dumbledore said, evenly. "But we unfortunately do not have all the pieces to this puzzle yet."

"Sir," Harry began, softly, "do you think…well…it sounds like…do you not want me to use the crystals any longer?"

"Harry, what you do with the crystals is your choice and yours alone," Dumbledore stated firmly, "I do not want to influence your decision in any way. They have helped save your life on several occasions, and they have caused you grief as well. But they are yours. Do with them as you wish."

Harry nodded slowly, half wishing Dumbledore had made the decision for him, but the headmaster was right. There was good and bad in everything, and the crystals were proving to be no exception.

"I should probably get going," Harry said, standing up slowly as the headmaster did the same. "You must have a ton of work to do before you're sworn in…"

"That I do," Dumbledore replied with a small grin. "But I always have time for a visit. Never hesitate to come to me if you need me for anything, Harry," he said firmly.

"Thank you," Harry replied, nodding once at the former headmaster. The two of them said their good-byes, and Harry headed out into the hall, shutting the door gently behind him. He started up the corridor, stopping as he came to the row of oversized grates, staring at them warily.

"Here goes nothing," he murmured under his breath, dreading what this would feel like. So far, every form of transportation that the wizarding world had come up with other than riding a broom, always left Harry feeling dizzy and nauseous, and this didn't seem like it would be any different. He stepped cautiously into the grate, which was lit by a single candle against the far wall, and turned around. Immediately the air in front of him began to glow bright orange, and a set of numbers formed out in the light. Harry glanced over them once, realizing they were the floors of the ministry building, before he reached out and swiped his hand through the number one.

The orange glow began to swirl around immediately, encircling Harry in its mist, and he shut his eyes tightly, already regretting the decision to use this route over the stairs. He felt a sudden sense of weightlessness as the floor dropped out from under him and he hovered in the air for what felt like a split second, the orange light spinning around him so quickly it was all he could see.

In the next instant, however, to Harry's great relief, he felt the ground beneath him once more, and the light around him faded as quickly as it had appeared. Stepping forward, Harry peered out of the grate and realized he was back in the lobby.

"That wasn't bad at all," he said with a silent laugh as he stepped fully out into the busy atrium for the second time that day. He couldn't enjoy the feeling for long, however, as he still had to take the floo network home. Glancing around quickly, he spotted the floo grates on the opposite wall from where he stood, and made his way over to them. In a matter of moments, he had gone through the familiar procedure, and soon he felt himself being whisked off in a swirl of colors, on his way home.

As the next few weeks went by, everything seemed to set back to its normal pace, with only one exception. Snape had stopped showing up for their lessons altogether, not bothering to call or give any explanation, but Harry wasn't the least bit surprised. He'd expected as much, after the way the potions master had reacted the last time he'd seen him. Sirius, however, was less than pleased at Snape's refusal to show for the sessions, and wanted to apparate straight over to the man's house, to demand an explanation, but Harry wouldn't let him. It was only two weeks until the next full moon, so they'd be seeing Snape soon enough. He could ask for a reason then.

During the time until the full moon, Harry did what he could to prepare for his job at Hogwarts. He went through the lesson books, trying to figure out what to show the students, and what might be too advanced. He took notes on certain subjects and made a small outline of what he'd want to cover throughout the year for each class.

Ron and Hermione were quite busy with preparing themselves for the year ahead, and as such Harry saw very little of them over the course of the month. He did get an owl when his friends had finally found an apartment they'd liked, and promised to let him know when it was ready, so he could have a look at it. It would still be a month or two, as they didn't plan to move until mid-autumn, but Harry was excited for them anyway.

Dumbledore, as promised, continued searching for any information he could find on the Cult of Shadows, but with the increased responsibilities he was preparing to take on as head minister, he could not devote as much time as he would have liked. Harry, in his spare time, continued the search at the wizarding library just near the ministry building, usually accompanied by Mel.

Even though Jack was still missing, Mel was refusing to let that keep her down. She never stopped looking for him, though by now it was more out of habit than anything. He had precious little time left, and had most likely managed to get far enough away that he wouldn't be found before his time came. Harry could see the torture Mel was going through over the whole situation, and loathed the fact that he couldn't help her in her search, but he was all but forbidden to go into the muggle world at this point, until they knew more about the Shadow Walkers.

So for two weeks Harry and Mel would spend as much time as either of them could spare, searching the enormous library for any information that would help them learn more about the Shadow Walkers, but came up with nothing. The few books they did find only told them what they already knew, and so their search was all for naught. Harry could only hope that when things settled down for Dumbledore, he'd be able to use the full resources of the ministry to discover more about the shadows, until then, he had no choice but to wait.

Soon enough, however, the weeks passed by, and the night of the first full moon of August arrived. Harry had asked Sirius and Marzia to give him time with Snape, not wanting his godfather to get into an argument with the potions master tonight. He needed to talk to Snape and was expecting the older man would not want to stay long, so Harry wanted there to be no distractions. When it neared the time that Snape usually arrived, Sirius and Marzia headed out for about an hour, promising to return before Harry's transformation actually happened. Harry thanked them, grateful for giving him the time he asked for, and after they'd left, he sat down on the couch to wait.

Several long minutes passed by, and Harry stared at his watch, the seconds ticking away, waiting. Snape was running late again, it seemed, and Harry had to remind himself that Dumbledore swore he would not allow Snape to fool around with this. It was too important, as he'd put it…and Harry had to agree. Each second felt like a minute, each minute like ten, and Harry had nothing to distract his mind from the little voice in the back of his head, whispering that Snape wouldn't show…he would transform…Sirius and Marzia would return…

Harry physically shook his head, forcing the horrible thought from his head, when the familiar popping sound of someone apparating into the room filled his ears. He looked up, filling with relief as Snape appeared before him and Harry stood up to greet him.

"Here," Snape hissed, forcing a vile of the wolfsbane potion into Harry's hands. "There's enough there for three days."

"Thank you," Harry said hurriedly, placing the bottle down on the table and looking up to see Snape turning away from him, he took a step forward quickly, reaching out and tapping the potion master's arm as he spoke. "Professor Snape…do you have a moment? I just wanted to…"

"Not now Potter," Snape replied darkly. "I'm very busy and seeing as we're done here, I'll need to be on my way."

"It won't be long, I promise," Harry said quickly. "Please?"

"What is it then?" Snape asked, exasperatedly. "What could be so important we need to speak about it this moment?"

"Look," Harry began, feeling the smallest twinges of anger at Snape's attitude. How could he pretend that nothing was wrong? "I know you're angry at me…and I think I know why too."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Snape spat darkly.

"Don't I?" Harry asked, calmly. "You caught some of my thoughts when you were last here, didn't you?"

"Something important came to my attention," Snape said, hastily.

"I bet it did," Harry replied with a nod, crossing his arms over his chest. "Would that important piece of information be related in any way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?"

"I don't have time for this, Potter," Snape said in quiet anger.

"Why haven't you been showing up for our sessions?" Harry asked evenly, ignoring the potion master's comment.

"I was unable to make it here for them."

"And you couldn't find one spare moment to contact me and let me know you weren't coming?" Harry asked, skeptically.

"No, I couldn't," Snape replied, looking intently at Harry, as if daring him to continue.

"And just how long do you think it will be," Harry went on determinedly, "until you're able to attend one of our sessions again?"

Snape looked at Harry for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before he began to speak quietly.

"I think we should discontinue the sessions."

"What?" Harry asked, not expecting this answer, his eyes growing wide. "Why?"

"I know that teaching will be a new experience for you, Potter," Snape began, sounding quite bitter. "One which you obviously have no idea about. If you think you're going to have time for our lessons you're quite mistaken."

"I'm sure there'll be some time, even if it's not as often," Harry began, hurriedly. "Remus always managed to take time out from his duties as an instructor if we needed him…"

"Yes but you are hardly as experienced as Professor Lupin was," Snape replied with a smirk.

Harry simply stared back at Snape, unable to reply. He knew…he knew…the potions master was only canceling their lessons out of spite. He was bitter and angry that Harry was offered the position he'd been after for his entire career as an instructor, and this was how he would get his revenge. But there was nothing he could do…except hope that Snape would come around.

"If you're through with your annoying questions then," the potions master began, a smug grin on his face, "then I'll be on my way now."

Harry watched as Snape smirked haughtily at him for a brief second more, before disapparating into the air. He stood in the den for a moment, at a loss for what to do now. Snape was his instructor, the only person he knew of that could teach him about the crystals. If he refused to show up for lessons, than where did that leave Harry?

With a soft sigh, Harry shook his head, while reaching down and grasping hold of the wolfsbane potion. He would have to worry about this problem some other time…

"Harry, I mean it…I'm not saying you can't handle this on your own or anything but…"

"Sirius, no," Harry replied for the umpteenth time. It was the day before he left for Hogwarts, and his godfather was still fuming about Snape's decision while Harry packed. "I don't want there to be any more trouble than there already is. Snape doesn't like you any more than he does me…"

"Well, someone has to talk some sense into that man," Sirius said, darkly, shaking his head in disgust. "This is too important…"

"Sirius…stop, please," Harry said, quietly as he pulled several more shirts out of his closet and crossed the room to his open trunk. "Maybe Snape's right," he suggested with a faint shrug.

"Right?" Sirius repeated, incredulously, looking worriedly at Harry. "When did you hit your head?"

"Shut up," Harry replied with a small laugh, before turning serious again. "It's just that I've had some time to think on this…and he is right, in a way. I probably won't have much time with all that I'll be doing this year…and the free time that I do get…well who's to say that will be his free time as well? I'm sure our schedules will be somewhat conflicting at least…it'll probably be too hard to find time that we both have free…"

"That's not true," Sirius said flatly. "And I know you know that. There's time after classes, there's time on the weekends and it's even possible to find time in between all of that. Snape is only doing this…"

"I know why he's doing it," Harry interrupted hurriedly, throwing another armful of clothes into his trunk. "I guess…well…maybe it's better this way, is what I'm really trying to say."

"Why in Merlin's name would you think that?" Sirius asked, a confused expression on his face.

"Because the lessons were getting us nowhere," Harry replied evenly. "I know I'm at a loss for what to do to make the stones listen when Snape's around…and I think he is too. It's just too much frustration and stress to have to deal with right now."

"Harry," Sirius began, crossing to where his godson stood and fixing him with a serious stare, "the stones are the only reason that you aren't with the Shadow Walkers right now. This may be stressful and frustrating, but it's necessary. If you don't want me to speak with Snape, that's fine…for now. But you can't just decide the crystals aren't worth it anymore and be done with them."

"That's not what I was saying," Harry replied weakly. "I'm not giving up…but I don't think a break is a bad idea…"

"Just don't make it too long a break," Sirius said firmly. "Alright?"

"Alright," Harry nodded, feeling that it wasn't really up to him anyway. If in a month or two Snape still refused to teach him, there was ultimately nothing Harry could do about it.

"Want any help packing?" Sirius asked lightly, trying to change the subject.

"No, I'm almost done as it is," Harry replied. "Thank you though."

"Alright," Sirius said with a grin. "I'll see you downstairs in a bit."

Harry nodded, smiling back at his godfather faintly, and watched him leave the room. Sighing inaudibly, he shook his head and turned his attention back to packing, a mixture of nervousness and anxiety churning inside him, at the possibilities of what lay ahead once he finally arrived at Hogwarts.

"You have everything, right?" Marzia asked as Harry piled the last of his belongings next to the fireplace in the den.

"You've asked me that four times now," Harry laughed, smiling widely at her.

"I just want you to be sure," Marzia said with a grin, stepping towards the trunks and glancing over the pile.

"Well I am," Harry said with a nod, "so you can stop worrying. Besides, even if I did forget something, it's too late now. I have to get going in a minute…I'm supposed to meet with Professor McGonagall today."

"Poor Minerva," Marzia said, shaking her head sympathetically. "She's probably going through hell right now trying to make sure everything's in order for next week."

"Well then let's not create more stress for her by making Harry late," Sirius spoke up teasingly, stepping into the den from the kitchen. "If he's forgotten something he can pick it up some other time."

"Yes, I should get going now," Harry nodded, giving Sirius a thankful smile as he reached for the canister of floo powder above the hearth.

"Are you sure you don't want to at least wear robes today?" Marzia asked, glancing at Harry's very casual attire.

"Marzia," Harry laughed. "I'm not teaching anything today…and it's not as if Professor McGonagall has never seen me in muggle clothes before…don't worry."

"Alright, I know, I'm sorry," Marzia said quickly. "But don't you think…"

Her voice was cut off abruptly as Sirius reached out playfully, clapping one hand over her mouth and the other over her arms, drawing her towards him.

"Go Harry, quick…I don't know how long I can hold her…" he whispered urgently to his godson, who was laughing, as Marzia was already wriggling free from Sirius' grasp.

"You, sir, are going to pay for that," Marzia commented mischievously as she finally pried the hand away from her mouth.

"Oh really?" Sirius asked, arching an eyebrow. "I think you're bluffing…"

"I think this is my cue to leave," Harry spoke up loudly, grinning at Sirius and Marzia just before he pulled out his wand. He quickly lit a fire in the hearth, preparing to toss in the floo powder.

"You'll do fine Harry," Sirius said firmly, smiling proudly at his godson as he looked intently into his eyes.

"And don't worry about Snape or anyone else…" Marzia added, "Albus asked you to take this position for a reason."

"That's right," Sirius spoke up quickly. "Remember…Snape isn't one of your teachers this time around…he can't give you detention, he can't take away house points…"

"I know," Harry nodded firmly, trying to reassure himself as much as he was them. "Thank you…both…" he added with a small grin.

"Good luck Harry," Marzia said, excitedly, stepping forward and hugging him tightly.

"And have fun," Sirius added as the two separated and Harry turned to face him.

"I'll try," Harry assured him with a half smirk.

"You know you will," Sirius replied, laughing softly. "Just promise me…swear to me…that you will look out for yourself."

Harry nodded faintly, knowing his godfather was referring to the Shadow Walkers. At least, up to this point, they'd been unable to find him as far as he knew, and going to Hogwarts, where Harry would be constantly surrounded by hundreds of wizards, would only make it harder for the shadows.

Saying good-bye once more to both Sirius and Marzia, Harry finally released his handful of floo powder into the flames. He quickly piled his belongings into the brilliant green blaze, before taking one last glance around the room. With a small wave, he stepped into the hearth, and was whisked off in a swirl of colors, back to his first home…back to Hogwarts.

The moment his feet hit the ground Harry lurched forward. He threw his hands out, hoping to grasp hold of anything, preparing for the pain that would come should he miss, when suddenly he felt someone's hands on his arms, steadying him.

"Alright there Mr. Potter? " a familiar, gruff voice asked through the clearing haze of smoke.

Harry, having regained his balance now, took a quick step back and stood looking at the person in front of him.

"Mr. Filch?" he asked, hesitantly, slightly taken aback that the caretaker had helped him.

"Your things go right over here," Filch said quickly, stepping around Harry and reaching for the first trunk. Harry could see a rather large stack of baggage already accumulated against the opposite wall from where he stood. "The house elves will take them to your room later."

"Oh…right," Harry nodded, thinking it felt strange to hear Filch speaking to him in a civil manner.

"Professor McGonagall will be wanting to see you now then," Filch said as the two finished pulling Harry's things out of the large grate just beside the main entranceway. Harry was sure he'd never seen the grate there before, and assumed this must be the only time it was used, remaining hidden the rest of the year.

"Alright," Harry nodded, starting on his way up the hall. "Thank you," he called out, as an afterthought, just before he turned around completely, setting off for McGonagall's office. He'd known there would most likely be a few surprises this year when it came to dealing with the teachers, but now it was actually real. Filch wasn't acting as if they were old friends or anything, but he had treated Harry like an adult, and that was an odd feeling for him.

For the first time since Harry told Dumbledore he would take this position, he felt truly glad he had done so. If Filch would accept him as an instructor…as an equal, then the other teachers would probably do the same, and that in itself was a relief. He knew, without a doubt, there would still be problems with Snape, but if the potions master was the only teacher he needed to worry about, it was definitely a weight off of Harry's shoulders.

As he finally reached McGonagall's office Harry stopped just outside the door, hearing faint voices from within.

Before Harry had a moment to register who the voices belonged to, the door in front of him opened slowly, sensing he was waiting to enter, letting out a loud creak as it did so.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," McGonagall spoke up from her seat at the desk, sounding both pleasant and stressed. "Just who I need to speak to," she paused, glancing towards the other person in the room with her. "Severus, will that be all? I assume we're through here…"

"Yes, thank you headmistress," Snape replied with a slight bow of his head, before his eyes fell upon Harry, glaring darkly at him.

"I didn't mean to interrupt…" Harry began, lifting his hands apologetically.

"Nonsense," McGonagall cut him off hastily, motioning Harry forward. "Come in then, we need to talk for a moment."

Harry stepped hesitantly into the room, eyeing Snape warily as the potions master started towards him. Neither spoke a word to the other, and when at last Snape reached Harry, he passed him by, not even sparing him a second glance.

Harry shook his head faintly and started towards the desk on the opposite side of the room. He could see the office was mostly cleared of its files and shelves, and figured it must be because McGonagall would be taking Dumbledore's office. As he neared the desk, he saw a mess of papers spread out in no specific order across its surface. McGonagall was hastily sifting through a stack of them that lay just before her, but what caught Harry's eye was lying on the far left end of the table.

A long scroll, partially unrolled, was sitting precariously on the edge of the desk. Harry could see it was a list of some sort, and upon looking closer; he saw they were names. Some of them were crossed off, while others had check marks next to them. Just beside the scroll lay another, slightly smaller one, and above it hovered a long, elegant quill. It was scrawling the names over onto this smaller scroll, but only the names with check marks.

"What is that?" Harry asked, gesturing at the list being written before him.

"Those are the first years that will be attending Hogwarts this term," McGonagall replied with a casual glance at the scrolls.

"Why are certain names crossed out?" Harry asked. "The students didn't reply on time?"

"No," McGonagall replied, shaking her head briefly. "If a student who is asked to attend doesn't get their owl in on time, we will still accept them provided they have a reason for being late."

"Then why are so many crossed off?"

"Not all children who are eligible to attend Hogwarts are asked to," McGonagall stated, somewhat regretfully. "The longer list there, contains the names of each child we considered for acceptance, the list just beside it are the ones who we sent the letters to."

"I didn't realize," Harry began, slightly surprised, "that some children don't make it in…"

"Yes well, we can't accept everyone," McGonagall said firmly. "We don't have the staff for any more than children than we already take on, nor do we have the room. But we aren't the only school of magic, Mr. Potter, so you can stop worrying."

Harry looked up from the scrolls, meeting McGonagall's piercing gaze, but he could see the kindness underneath, and smiled faintly back at her.

"Now," she went on, looking suddenly business-like, "there's something we need to talk about."

Harry lowered himself into a chair on the opposite side of the desk from McGonagall and waited for her to begin.

"I know you and Albus did not have much chance to discuss your position here, so I am going to try and go over as much of this as I can with you now. Your schedule is set up for you so that the students' classes don't run into each other. You will have two days during which you will have both a morning and an afternoon class, and three days where you will only have one class per day," McGonagall explained quickly, handing him a slip of paper with the class schedules on it as she spoke. "Now, do you have any ideas about what you'd like to do for a lesson plan?" she asked.

"Well…I was looking over the older ones, from what Albus sent me," Harry began. "I was thinking of mostly staying along the same lines as those…"

"Do you have any questions?" McGonagall asked evenly. "Anything you're not clear on?"

"I'm sure I'll have dozens," Harry said, nodding, "But right now I can't think of any…I guess I'll have to see after my first lesson."

"Just remember you can ask myself or any of the other professors for help with anything. I've made everyone aware of your decision to join the staff and anyone of us will be more than willing to help you however we can."

"Thank you," Harry replied with a small grin.

"Just remember you have to ask, Mr. Potter," McGonagall spoke up with a wry grin. "This will not be anything even remotely similar to your days as a student and we all have our own responsibilities. Even though you are coming into this with no prior teaching experience I can't have someone watching over your shoulder, you have to come to us with your questions. I know you don't care to ask for help, but we can't read your mind."

"Not even Professor Trelawny?" Harry asked with a smirk.

McGonagall rolled her eyes and shook her head, it was all the response Harry needed.

"Alright then," Harry began, getting ready to stand up. "So I'm guessing…I use the next week to get ready for classes…er…do I have an office, or…someplace I can…"

"You will have an office, yes," McGonagall nodded. "And I believe using the time before classes begin to prepare your lessons would be the best choice. But before you go, Harry…" she said hurriedly, holding up a finger to halt him from leaving, "there's one other thing we need to discuss."

"Okay," Harry replied, remaining seated.

"I need to ask you a question," McGonagall began, sounding quite serious. "It isn't a demand in any way, but I want to make it clear that I am asking you for your help in this situation and would greatly appreciate if you could give it."

"What is it?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

McGonagall fixed Harry with an even gaze, before speaking.

"Would you consider taking the position as head of Gryffindor House for this term?"

"What?" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself, part of him feeling this question shouldn't have surprised him in the least, while the other part was reeling from this new offer. "You mean…you haven't found anyone yet?" he sputtered.

"I wouldn't be asking you if I had, Mr. Potter," McGonagall stated evenly. "But I must ask that you give me your answer now. I am aware that this request is sudden, but I have no choice. The house head must be someone previously from that house, who has graduated from the school, and right now you are the only person who is qualified for that position."

"What would I have to do?" Harry asked, wanting very much so to turn the offer down, but seeing quite clearly in McGonagall's eyes that she truly needed his help.

"You would keep a close watch on your students," McGonagall began at once. "You can set rules for the dormitories if you choose, and you would be responsible for contacting the parents for students who step out of line. You would also keep track of house points. If points are lost or gained during classes the other professors will report back to you with this information. If a student breaks a rule in such a manner that it is considered serious, the punishment of that student would fall to you. Though in most cases it does not come to that."

"Do I only set punishments for students in my own house?" Harry asked, remembering the many occasions on which Snape had assigned him detention.

"No," McGonagall replied, quickly, "if you happen upon a student who is breaking a rule and you are the first professor to see what is happening, the punishment falls to you. In certain cases the house head for that student may speak to you on the child's behalf if they feel the punishment was unfair, but it is up to you whether or not you wish to change your decision."

Harry nodded slowly, listening to all that McGonagall was telling him, and sighing inwardly. He couldn't turn her down, it was too close to the school year and she'd never find someone else in time. He opened his mouth to say he would accept, when the door to the room began to slowly creak open.

"Troy, you're back," McGonagall said, sounding mildly surprised as she glanced up to the open door. Harry looked as well, his eyes widening in shock as he immediately recognized the person who'd just entered the office. It was the redheaded man from the bookshop, the one who was rather rude towards him.

"I apologize for the interruption, Minerva," Troy said hastily, barely sparing Harry a second glance as he made his way to the desk. "Argus was somewhat preoccupied and was unable to spare the time at the moment to show me where I'd be staying…I know you're busy, but perhaps if you could…"

"Yes it is much more hectic around here this year," McGonagall nodded quickly. "I'm afraid I don't have time right now, but Harry here can show you," she said, gesturing to where Harry stood. Troy looked over at Harry with the faintest hint of distaste in his expression as McGonagall rushed on quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry, you two haven't met…Harry this is Troy Ryan. He'll be the new Transfiguration professor this year. And Troy, this is…"

"Harry Potter," Troy said flatly, not taking his eyes from Harry. "I recognize him."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, forcing politeness into his tone as Troy seemed to glare at him. He extended his hand towards the redhead, as McGonagall looked on.

"Likewise," Troy replied, a slight edge to his tone as he stiffly took Harry's hand, before pulling away almost immediately.

"Would you mind, Harry?" McGonagall asked, looking up at Harry. "Just show Troy where the sleeping quarters on the fourth floor are…"

"Of course not, Professor," Harry replied with a small grin. "I'd be glad to."

"Good, now…as to what we were just discussing…" McGonagall began again, "Would you consider it?"

"I'll do it professor," Harry nodded slowly, trying to smile reassuringly more for himself than to convince McGonagall.

"Thank you Harry," she replied, a true smile crossing her face for the first time since he'd arrived. He could see how his answer alone had seemed to lift a great weight from her shoulders. "I know you'll do a wonderful job."

"I hope you're right," Harry replied with a half-hearted laugh but feeling flattered just the same. "Thank you, professor."

"Harry, call me Minerva now," she said simply giving him one last grin before turning back to her work. "Oh and your quarters will be the ones on the third floor…your things should already be there…"

"Thank you," Harry said again with a nod, before turning at last to where Troy stood, looking quite impatient.

"Thank you for waiting, Troy," McGonagall spoke up again suddenly and Harry saw the man's expression change in a flash, appearing warm and kind.

"Of course, Minerva," he replied with a faint nod. "No trouble at all."

As soon as McGonagall's eyes were averted, however, Troy's eyes narrowed once more, and he turned away from Harry, starting wordlessly towards the door. Harry looked after him for a brief moment, wondering what he could have possibly done to deserve this treatment, before quietly following after him and stepping out into the hall.

"This way," Harry said flatly as he fell in step with Troy, beginning to lead him down a side corridor. For a few moments, there was no sound to be heard other than that of their own footsteps. Harry glanced sideways at Troy, seeing only a blank stare on the other man's face. If they weren't the same age they had to be close to it, but Harry couldn't remember ever seeing him in Hogwarts before. Clearing his throat softly, Harry at last took a deep breath and began speaking.

"So…you're going to be teaching transfiguration?" he asked lightly, not sure how to start the conversation.

"That's what Minerva said, isn't it?" Troy replied with a scowl. "Or didn't you hear her?"

"No, I heard her fine," Harry relied, trying to keep the stiffness out of his voice. He shook his head and decided to start again.

"Have you known Minerva long?"

"Why do you care?" Troy retorted.

"I'm just trying to make conversation…" Harry replied, defensively.

"Well I don't want to talk to you, alright?" Troy spoke, icily. "Just show me where the rooms are."

Harry stopped walking dead in his tracks so quickly that Troy went a few paces beyond him before realizing he wasn't beside Harry any longer. He turned around at once, a dark glower on his face.

"Are you trying to be irritating, or is this the way you normally behave?" Troy asked coldly.

"You should talk," Harry replied, his voice calm and even as he stood his ground, a defiant gleam in his eyes. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me why you're so angry at me?"

"You're right, I don't care to tell you," Troy replied darkly.

Harry narrowed his eyes, before speaking again, slowly and clearly.

"You know, we're both going to be teaching here for the next ten months…don't you think we should at least make an attempt to get along with one another?"

"Why?" Troy sneered.

"I don't think it would look fantastically professional if any of the students were to…"

"What? See us arguing? Who cares?" Troy said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why lie to them? Besides, if you just keep your distance, as would be in your best interests, there won't be any arguments for them to accidentally walk in on."

Harry took a sharp step forward, looking intently into Troy's eyes…searching them.

"My best interests?" he repeated, evenly. "Is that a threat?"

"Take it however you want to," Troy replied crisply.

Harry stared long and hard at the man before him, questions racing through his mind. Why did Troy seem so hateful towards him? Where did he know McGonagall from? She must know him well, or at least trust him, if she was the one who'd hired him to teach. Where did he come from, though? Why had Troy accepted the job if he knew Harry would be here, when he so obviously wanted to be nowhere near him?

"Look you may have heaps of free time on your hands but I don't," Troy's harsh voice stirred him from his thoughts. "Now show me the way to the rooms," he demanded.

But Harry didn't move, he didn't like the idea of starting off the school year with yet another enemy, for an unknown cause. He wanted to know why Troy seemed to hate him so, and he wanted to know now. Before he could even begin to speak however, the sound of nearing footsteps echoed through the adjacent hall, and both men looked up just in time to see Severus Snape step into view.

"Severus," Troy began immediately, a friendly smirk crossing his lips.

"Good afternoon, Troy," Snape nodded, sparing Harry the briefest of glances before turning away again. "I see you've met Potter," he continued, more than a hint of dislike in his voice.

"Yes," Troy nodded, throwing Harry another glare. "He's exactly as you said he'd be…"

Harry looked up at Snape sharply upon hearing this, his eyes narrowing, but Snape merely smirked back at him, smugly.

"You two know each other quite well it seems," Harry stated icily.

"We've only just met, a few hours ago, Potter," Snape replied, a faint grin still on his face.

"Severus was kind enough to tell me a few things about the school while I was waiting to speak with Minerva," Troy said casually.

"Well then maybe he can give you your tour as well," Harry said, suddenly feeling an overwhelming rush of anger. It was bad enough to have to deal with Snape's constant ill-deserved attitude towards him, but to have to put up with Troy as well…Harry wasn't going to take it.

"Oh, backing out, are you?" Troy spoke tauntingly as Harry moved to turn away.

"Get used to it, Troy," Snape began, looking sympathetically at the younger man. "Potter has grown up with the idea that he is above the rest of us, he does only as he pleases…"

Harry clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to turn back. He knew Snape was baiting him, and he refused to bite. He hadn't even begun teaching yet, and he certainly wasn't going to give Snape a reason to report him to McGonagall by getting into a fight. Taking a deep breath, he grudgingly began stepping forward, away from the two sneering faces behind him.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, before I forget…there's one other thing…" Snape's overly placid voice called out to him.

"Yes?" Harry asked, not bothering to fake a smile as he turned back around.

"I happened to notice the chest containing the crystals downstairs before your things were brought up…"

"What about them?" Harry asked, fighting to keep his expression even. What was Snape doing? He'd just said he'd only known Troy a few hours…no matter how well they got along, Harry did not want to talk about the crystals in front of a stranger, especially one who seemed to dislike him so.

"I'm wondering, actually why you brought them with you," Snape drawled. "I've already said we will not be continuing the lessons…"

"I know," Harry replied flatly, "I was there, remember?" he asked, stopping himself before he went any further.

"Watch yourself," Snape said, all hint of his even-tempered manner vanishing in an instant.

"Or what?" Harry asked, the corners of his mouth curling up in a wry smile. "I'm not one of your students anymore."

"As a professor in this school you need to put forth a professional appearance if nothing else, Potter," Snape said icily, rushing on, "and you are one of my students still."

"Not since you told me our lessons were through," Harry shot back, evenly, choosing to ignore the comment about behaving professionally. In all his years at Hogwarts, he'd rarely gotten that impression from the potions master. Angry, ill tempered, hateful and conniving…but never professional.

"I told you we'd be postponing them," Snape said haughtily.

"Whatever you said, the lessons are through for the time being," Harry spoke quickly. "Which means I'll have to work with the stones on my own time…"

"You will do no such thing!" Snape cut in, looking suddenly furious.

"And why not?" Harry asked, angrily. "If you're not going to show me I need to do something to figure them out…"

"I forbid it, Mr. Potter," Snape said fiercely, staring intently at him. "You are not to use those crystals unless I am with you." Harry looked straight back at the potions master, not failing to catch the truly amused expression on Troy's face as he watched Harry get yelled at.

"I use the crystals on my own all the time," Harry said, in a strained voice, glaring at Snape as he spoke.

"Well not anymore," Snape hissed.

"Then tell me why not," Harry said quietly. "Give me a reason…"

"The fact that I'm telling you I don't want you to should be reason enough," Snape said darkly.

"Well it isn't," Harry said crisply, crossing his arms over his chest.

Snape's eyes locked darkly with Harry's and for a moment, neither spoke. Harry refused to be the first to blink; he was not going to let Snape scare him away from this. When suddenly, to his great surprise, Snape lowered his gaze first. The potions master glanced sideways towards where Troy stood, who was still smirking at Harry tauntingly, before bringing his gaze back. Harry's own eyes narrowed curiously, sure he had seen something in the split second the potion master's eyes had been averted, but Snape's expression quickly resumed its haughty appearance once more.

"This discussion is over, Mr. Potter," Snape said icily. "You will not use the crystals…and that's final."

Harry didn't even have a reply anymore, he knew something was up…but he just didn't know what.

"Troy, I'll show you the way to your quarters from here," Snape said, turning to the younger man. "Potter here was obviously taking you the long way…he doesn't know quite as much about this castle as he thinks he does."

"I was just wondering about that," Troy sneered. "He does look a bit lost, doesn't he?" he asked, smiling at Harry's still confused expression. The two turned their backs on Harry, walking up the corridor, seeming to get along splendidly. Harry looked after them for a brief moment, still feeling something wasn't quite right, before he slowly turned away, and started off in the opposite direction.

Snape had been trying to tell him something…he felt it…he knew it. But he couldn't understand what not using the crystals would have to do with anything, and why he was so insistent that Harry not touch them without him.

He made his way up to the fourth floor, where his own quarters were located, finding everything had been brought up already. Spotting the trunk that contained the stones against the far wall, he crossed to it slowly, and knelt down just beside it. Part of him was tempted to open it and call the crystals now, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. The stones only knew what he did…and he certainly didn't know what Snape had been getting at.

With a frustrated sigh, Harry stood once more, and walked to where the rest of his belongings lay, before beginning to unpack. This was turning out to be a wonderful school year, and there was still a week before it would even begin. Already he had so many questions…he only hoped he could find the answers.

As the week went on, Harry tried to talk with Snape, to get him alone even if it was only for a minute. He wanted to ask him about what had happened in the hall…why didn't he want Harry to use the crystals on his own? But Snape, conveniently, always seemed to make himself scarce when Harry was around.

Troy didn't soften up any either, when it came to Harry, completely ignoring his existence and brushing him off at every opportunity. The only time he would act somewhat civil, was if McGonagall was around.

At one point, Harry had tried to ask her about Troy. He wanted to know where he'd come from and how well she knew him.

"How long have you known him for?" he'd asked her the day before classes as they'd ate lunch together. Usually Harry ended up eating alone in his office, preparing for classes, but today he'd decided to go down to the great hall, and jumped at the chance to speak with Minerva when he's spotted her there as well.

"I've known Troy since he was very young, Harry," she replied absently, as she was quite absorbed in some paperwork she'd brought downstairs with her.

"I don't mean to be a bother or anything," Harry said, seeing she was quite busy, but could you tell me anything about him?"

"What is it exactly that you want to know?" McGonagall asked, looking up at Harry with a serious expression. "And is there any reason you can't ask Troy yourself?"

"Not really," Harry answered a bit too quickly, drawing a questioning look from the headmistress. "It's just I don't want to bother him with questions when he's new to the school. Not only does he have to prepare for classes, but he doesn't know the castle quite well…he's got more on his mind than most of us…"

McGonagall gave Harry a penetrating look, she knew there was more to this than he was telling her, but nodded faintly at last.

"Well I'm sure Troy is quite appreciative for your consideration, but I don't know how much I can answer for you…what is it you want to know?"

"Well, for one thing…where is he from? I know he didn't go to Hogwarts, so where did he learn magic?"

"Troy was born in England, he attended a local wizarding school…"

"A local wizarding school?" Harry interrupted.

"Similar, I suppose, to that of a muggle public school," Minerva explained, "for anyone not attending one of the more prestigious schools."

"Is there a reason he went to one of those?" Harry asked, curiously.

"That's more of a personal question, Harry," Minerva replied gently. "I'm afraid if you want that answer, you will have to ask it of Troy. It's his decision if he wants to tell you or not."

Harry nodded quickly, even more curious now than he'd been a moment ago, but knew there was nothing that could come of pressing McGonagall for information. If she didn't want to give it, she wouldn't.

"You said you've known him since he was young," Harry began again, "would you tell me how?"

"I knew his parents," Minerva replied, suddenly looking quite sad. She went silent for a few moments, and Harry sat patiently, waiting and hoping she would continue. When he opened his mouth to ask her how she knew them, she started speaking again suddenly, her voice very still.

"They, as so many others, were killed by Voldemort's followers during his first height of power."

Harry merely lowered his eyes. Here was yet another person, whose life was changed forever because of Voldemort. He wondered if that was part of the reason Troy seemed to hate him so, but still couldn't quite figure out why it would be…

"I apologize, Harry, for having to cut this short," Minerva spoke quickly, looking much like her usual self again, "but I still have much that needs to be done before tomorrow…"

"Yes of course," Harry nodded, standing up with the headmistress. "Sorry to have disturbed you."

"No, you didn't at all," Minerva replied with a half smile, she nodded briefly, before starting towards the door at the back of the room, and going through. Harry looked after her for a long moment. He was glad to know something about Troy, but the discussion had only created many more questions in his head. Deciding not to worry on it now, Harry headed across to the exit as well, starting back to his quarters, so he would finish getting ready for the first day of school.