Not mine. Don't sue. Pretty please (which always looks SO good on legal documents).

ooOOoo

Chapter 17: Protection

Harry had intended to get in some time alone with the horse. He needed some space away from other people; space in which to think about Hermione's plan, and decide if he was either some sort of compulsive rescuer or just someone with a martyr complex. Using an Extrapolation of the charms used in Time Turners to send herself back in time to the days of the Founders and ask Helga Hufflepuff if she could use her sickle was, well, Harry thought it was appalling. In fact it was almost as bad as one of his plans.

Musing on his lack of options and trying to think of a good argument to convince Hermione not to go, he was surprised to see Professor Lupin standing outside the castle doors, apparently enjoying the cool misty air.

"Hello, Harry," said Remus, turning and smiling as Harry came down the steps. Harry thought he'd been silent, but even in the human part of the moon Remus had superb hearing.

"Professor Lupin. I'm surprised to see you up so early."

"Likewise."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Things on your mind?"

Harry paused, wishing he could talk to Remus about the Extrapolation. He might know of a spell to cast on Harry that would let him speak Old English. He might say that the plan was suitable, because of problems X, Y and Z, which generations of wiser wizards had tried and failed to overcome. He might know all the different dimensions the spell would twist Hermione's intestines through when the Extrapolation misfired. "Yeah. But it's just… stuff."

"Early morning walks are just the thing for stuff on the mind," Remus said, his golden brown eyes smiling.

"You sound like Professor Dumbledore," Harry said with a grin.

"I'm all out of sherbet lemons, I'm afraid. Care to take a walk with me? I was hoping to meet your new friend Simon. Now that I'm not a wolf I have high hopes of not having my head stamped into the ground," he added lightly.

"Don't take it personally," Harry said with a shrug. "Things he doesn't understand seem to have that effect on him. It's almost human."

Lupin sighed. "Yes, that's what I'm worried about." They set off down along the lawn towards the rear of the castle. Mist swirled around them, muffling what little early-morning birdsong there was and gifting anonymity. On the plus side, it meant no-one could see Harry – sort of like a giant, nebulous Invisibility Cloak. On the minus side, it meant Harry couldn't see anyone he wouldn't want to bump into. A very democratic Invisibility Cloak.

The dew soaked into their boots from the tall grass. Remus dried them out again with a quick spell. "Useful for morning walks," he said with a small smile.

"I bet." Harry wriggled his dry toes. Much better. "Uh – I think I'd better warn you about your wand – Simon doesn't like them. Luna thinks he was attacked by some wizards in the Forest that night. In fact," he added, "it might be a good thing you coming out to see him. Draco found some old hex-scars on him and although he and Ginny lifted them, it might give us some idea of where Simon's from and what he went through before he found me and Draco. That's if you can read what's left of them. There's also a charm embedded in his chest. But he won't let us muck about with that. We've been wondering if he used to belong to a wizard."

"Let's have a look, shall we?"

They were at the fence. "Simon!" Harry called softly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the morning.

There was the muted thumpetty-thump of hooves as the horse ambled down the hillside. Harry only realised the direction by where Remus was looking, and watched as the horse gradually became solid through the mist. Silver droplets hung from Simon's mane and the whiskers around his muzzle, and when the horse shook its head they shivered away into the moist half-light. The horse stopped when it saw Remus and tossed its head, snorting uneasily. Pretending nothing was wrong, Harry unlatched the gate and stepped into the paddock.

Simon walked down to meet him, dark eyes still on Remus, and subtly positioned himself between the two wizards.

"Protective sort, isn't he?" Remus said in his mild way.

"Not half!" Grinning, Harry patted the horse's neck, ruffling the mane to shake off more of the dew, and picked up the leadrope Luna had left by the gate, clipping it onto the headcollar Hooch had insisted they leave on the horse. "It stopped Draco from being killed by a vrikolaki, so… well, I guess there's a down-side after all," he laughed.

Remus looked amused but didn't smile. "How about introducing us?"

"Sure." Harry tugged on the leadrope, but the horse planted his hooves and didn't budge. "Simon… come on…" He looked apologetically at Remus. "Luna thinks he mightn't like men much – apparently a lot of Muggle animal doctors are men, and that gives horses something to base a grudge on." Harry didn't bother pulling on the rope – the last time he'd tried that Simon had demonstrated how horses can pull back a lot harder and sent Harry flying backwards. "He doesn't like Hagrid much – actually, I think Hagrid makes him nervous. He's getting better with Hagrid, though. And he doesn't seem to mind Professor Dumbledore. He's best buddies with Professor Flitwick, or he would be if the Professor came out and visited him."

"Yes. I heard about the incident with Mr Malfoy. As Colin Creevey is still alive I imagine Draco isn't too upset. Hmm. Well, in his own time, then." Remus simply leaned on the fence, looking away into the mist, looking as relaxed as Harry had ever seen him. Harry held on to the end of the leadrope and joined him.

After a few minutes of ignoring the horse, Harry felt the tell-tale warmth behind him that said the horse had come closer. Warm air ruffled his hair as the horse checked he wasn't upset or hurt. "So… how are classes?"

"Oh, same old, same old," Remus replied. "I had a couple of second year Ravenclaws asking odd questions about Invisibility Potions, and caught them trying to break into Snape's stores. Again." He smiled. "This time they were only turned into newts. Last time it was beetles. It took me ages to get them out of the stone jars they were trapped in. You'd think they'd learn."

"Yes." Harry was almost in a cold sweat, thinking of Hermione breaking in for boomslang skin in second year. If Snape had caught her in a stone jar would he have let her out again? And now she was planning on breaking in again tomorrow night for powdered Timesplitz bugs. "They're heavily warded, then?"

"More so now than they used to be, I believe. It was Barty Crouch and a few others Snape never caught that convinced the headmaster to allow Severus to indulge his creativity." He smiled. "I think the only caveats were that the punishments shouldn't be fatal or irreversible." Remus was very carefully not noticing that a horse was gingerly sniffing his elbow.

"But you can get past the wards all right? I mean, you're not a newt."

"Well, when Albus asked me to sub for Severus he gave me the passwords and keyed them to my voice. Those wards are almost unbreakable, now."

"Sounds like Dark Magic."

"Just between you and me, Harry, it is. You might have noticed things are a little tense…"

"Really? You think Voldemort might have returned, then?"

"It's entirely possible, but probably just that crazy old Hogwarts Headmaster stirring things up again… Well, Albus seemed to have enough trust in Severus to let him use a few minor Dark spells around the place…" His face expressed his misgivings, but he kept his voice uninflected as he turned the palm of his hand up for the horse to brush its muzzle over as it tested him with smell and whiskers. "That's how serious it is. Albus has – had very little desire to set Severus Snape and the Dark Arts in any sort of close relationship ever again."

"Was he worried a little power might send Snape off to join Voldemort again? Or was he just wanting to stop Snape badgering him about the DADA position?"

Remus sighed. "That's Professor Snape. And I don't know. And the whole issue is moot now, anyway." He looked sad, then smiled as Simon lifted his head and sniffed at his face. "Hey… I didn't know horses had whiskers… and yours tickle, my friend." He stroked the long nose.

"I thought you hated him. I know he hated…" Harry looked away. "Sorry – that was rude."

Remus' hand stilled on the horse's nose, then slid down to cup the chin. Somewhere in the lightening distance a blackbird sang its sweet song. Simon's ears swivelled towards it. "It was a bit, yes. But I didn't hate him."

"But he…"

"Hated me? Oh yes. Very much." Simon nudged his shoulder, and Remus went back to stroking the soft skin along the side of the horse's jaw. "For a short time in our sixth year I thought things would be better if I tried to make friends with him. That ended up making things worse. After the Shrieking Shack, when James rescued him and he found out I was a werewolf, Severus thought I'd been trying to gain his confidence just to make it easier to trap and kill him."

"Bit paranoid, wasn't he?"

"Harry, people who are paranoid only think other people are out to get them. In Severus' case he really did have people out to get him. Sirius, in this case. And James most days, and Peter whenever Peter thought he could get away with it."

"But not you?"

Remus lowered his head until he was nose to nose with Simon. "And me. I wanted to fit in." He sighed and straightened. "You know the worst of it, Harry? When I was trying to get to know him better, I found he wasn't such a bad person after all. Just scared as hell."

Harry frowned. "Scared of what?"

"I don't know. Bullies beating him up at school, maybe…" Remus frowned uneasily and looked away into the hills as if an answer was there. "His Housemates that year were a pretty scary lot, too. After the Shrieking Shack he started hanging around with Wilkes and Rosier… you know about them?"

"Death Eaters who died, yeah."

"Yes. But before that he had nothing to do with them. I was appalled to find out he'd become a Death Eater. But then I was even more distressed to think that maybe I'd had a hand in making him one. I can't hate someone like that, Harry, but then again I can't blame him for hating me."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Even now, he couldn't forgive Snape for treating him like he had. Picking on Harry because he'd disliked Harry's father was, well, it was incredibly petty. And it seemed a bit far-fetched that Snape would have chosen Rampant Evil just because he'd been pissed off with a few school mates. Harry opened his mouth to say so, then paused. "I think Simon is getting used to you," he said instead.

Remus managed a small smile. "He is, isn't he? I haven't been stamped on once."

"Give him time. He stood on my foot again yesterday." After some swearing and shoving, Simon had moved. It was entirely possible the horse hadn't known what he had done, too. He'd seemed quite surprised by Harry's agitation. Luckily Harry had taken to wearing boots on Madam Hooch's instructions, otherwise he'd have had worse than the mild bruise. "You seem to have a knack for this sort of thing – you were doing exactly what the horse mutterer Robert Python said to do in his book."

"Really? I must read it. I came top in my class for Care of Magical Creatures. Now that's ironic."

"It is, rather. How are you getting along for Wolfsbane?"

"Oh, Severus left in a good supply of the ingredients. One advantage of being a pessimist is that when the worst happens you're prepared for it."

"I wonder if Hermione could make it? She was the one who found the books on horses for me."

"Miss Granger? Find books? The world is coming to an end."

"You like her."

"Of course. She's how I wish I could have been at her age."

A sudden memory of the Slytherins ranged along the top of the stairs from the Entrance Hall slipped into his mind. "Do you think anyone will join Voldemort because of me?"

"I don't know. Do you go around making people's lives hell because they look funny or are in another House or don't have any friends who can back them up?"

"Dad wasn't like that. Was he?"

There was a pause Harry didn't like. Then: "No. I'm just a little bitter. I hate making mistakes I can't heal."

Harry shrugged. "Don't we all. So can I fix my mistakes?"

"Harry, I don't know if you've made mistakes. Maybe you did, but I don't think it's to the degree where someone would suddenly think 'Sod it, You-Know-Who's the only way out.' Even if you were just like your father, which you're not – you've got too much of Lily in you – then you've got Hermione Granger. And she's one of the best consciences I've ever met."

"Don't you mean 'got one of the best consciences'?"

"No," Remus chuckled, "I mean she is. She's the sort of person I should have been, but was too much of a coward to be. If anything, I think you may help stop people from joining You-Know-Who. Take young Mr Malfoy – you seem to have been a positive influence on him –"

Harry, who had been about to protest Lupin's assertion of being a coward, burst out laughing. "You don't know him very well! No, it was going blind that did it. I don't think he'd make any allegiances based on my opinion. If anything, I think he's looking for a third option."

"Well, I wish him well in his search. Maybe if there had been a third option, people like Severus wouldn't have needed to make such a terrible choice."

Harry thought of Millicent and the two young Slytherin girls. They didn't trust Dumbledore, that was for certain. Plainly none of the Slytherins did. But in the way the world was divided they had to side with him or support Voldemort. The Ministry wasn't really an option; it was as divided down that line as the rest of Wizarding Great Britain.

The thought of Daisy and Trudi hidden behind white masks made him shiver. And Millicent… Harry still didn't like her, but he'd bumped into her a few more times lately as she quietly checked up on Draco, and was developing a reluctant respect for her pragmatic, possessive affection for her Housemates. What if one day he had to kill a Death Eater and then take the mask off and find someone he'd had classes with? Crabbe or Goyle – well, it would be nasty, but Harry could cope.

Terrible as it was, Harry had to admit to himself he didn't care enough about either of them as people to flinch away from the thought of their death at his hands. But Millicent had, in the last week or so, become a real person. And Draco…

Thanks to that odd bit of magic Ginny had performed in the middle of healing Simon, Draco was getting his sight back now. He had options galore. Harry didn't know if Malfoy would keep hanging around with him and Luna – it seemed to be only the horse that kept them civil to each other. Draco was civil, yes, but not open, and despite what he'd told Harry the day Simon took him careering through the castle, Harry suspected his real allegiances were a mystery. Harry fully expected Draco would simply take the expedient way out and pick whichever side seemed most likely to win, providing, of course, the Malfoy name remained paramount. Did Draco understand love and friendship, or did he only understand alliances and territory? Harry doubted Draco understood guilt as being anything other than, 'oh, hell, I've been caught.'

A world-view like Draco's was almost as alien as Simon's. He slumped on the fence. "You're right. There's a lot of people like him – well, not exactly, but we're in a war, aren't we? And in a war you have to choose sides. What if both sides are wrong?"

"Then you do the best that you can. And if you get the chance to make up for your mistakes, you seize that chance and hold on to it as hard as you can." He patted Simon on the neck. "Harry, have you considered this horse may not be safe?"

"Sorry?" Harry was confused by the abrupt change of topic. "How do you mean?"

"I mean he's already killed a vrikolaki. From what I've heard he barely stopped short of killing Draco. And didn't he nearly kill you when you found the dead vrikolaki?"

"He stopped as soon as he saw who I was. He was defending himself and Draco. I mean, look at him now." The long black eyelashes glittering with diamond-dust from the mist were lowered. "He's almost asleep."

"The point is, Harry, that this is an animal with the instinct to react violently when frightened. What would happen if you surprised him – would he kick out? He's very powerful – he could crush your chest."

"All horses are like that. The thing is that you don't give them a reason to kick. Besides, they'd rather run away. You saw that last week when he ran into Flitwick's class."

"But if he can't run, what then? There are so many reasons for him to be frightened, and despite what you might have been told, most horses aren't as likely to react like this one."

"I think you're being overprotective."

Simon snorted, woken by the sharpness of Harry's voice. He shook his head free of Remus' hand. Remus let his hand fall.

"Harry… what's going on?"

"I've got a horse. I'm making friends outside my House. One of them might even be Draco Malfoy, but I'm still careful about that. I've got a new hobby." And Hermione is pursuing an interesting line of research that you told her not to concern herself with, so I can hardly ask for your advice now that you want to play Uncle Remus. "Oh, and this Dark wizard is trying to knock me off because there's some prophecy going around."

Remus' brows drew together. "I'm sorry I haven't been around as much as you need, Harry."

"You've been busy. I can understand that. You've got your own classes and now you're subbing for some of Snape's. But I don't need someone getting all protective on me just over a horse."

Remus let the missing 'Professor' slide for once.

Simon moved away to the end of the rope and began to graze. The noise of his strong teeth cropping at the grass was loud in the small misty world.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair: short of putting treacle through it, it wasn't as if he could make it any messier. "So how's it going, teaching Potions? Seems okay from the classes I've had with you. Better than when Professor Sprout filled in. She just made us research ingredients and we didn't brew anything. Hermione was disappointed, but then again no-one blew anything up. So that probably counted as a good day."

Remus managed a faint smile. "I don't mind it too much. Luckily I've got the rest of the year's lesson plans all ready for me, and everything is stocked. Professor Snape was quite thorough like that."

"I guess…"

"What?" Remus prompted when the silence dragged out.

"Maybe he knew he was going to die."

Remus shifted his weight on the fence from one elbow to the other, carefully not looking at Harry. "Harry… He didn't know he was going to die. But he knew he was in a dangerous position, spying for us. He was being practical, not precognitive."

Harry nodded. It wasn't important. He didn't want to think about Snape. Snape, who left cryptic notes and a lightning bolt the exact match of Harry's scar in a library book. Snape, who'd hated him as much as he'd been hated in return. Snape, who was dead. Snape, whose written echo Harry was trusting to help find a way to escape this slow strangulation of Hogwarts by Voldemort.

He didn't want to think about Voldemort. "Do you want to look at the charm in his chest?"

"Sure."

Simon was calmer now and allowed the werewolf to run his hands over his shoulders and neck, feeling out where the curses had been.

"I can feel resonances of a sort," Remus said at last. "But they're fading fast. Miss Weasley did an excellent job of removing them, and I'd be curious to find out how young Mr Malfoy located and held them. I suspect it's his magic finding a way through the limitations currently imposed on it."

Harry wondered if Draco's new-found ability to find spells by touch would disappear as he got his sight back. He wouldn't ask Remus that, though, not until Draco had decided what he wanted other people to know.

Remus spread his hand over Simon's chest and took out his wand. "Ah. Yes. I believe I've found the charm. Hmm… I wonder if I can – aargh!"

"Simon! No!"

Simon had his ears flat back in fury. His powerful jaws were locked around Remus' shoulder and the long, yellow teeth were sunk deep into Remus' robes. His velvety black muzzle crinkled almost like a snarling dog's as he ground his teeth together.

"Ahh…! Harry…" Remus tried to punch the horse, but Simon shook his head and Remus hissed in pain.

"Oh, shit… Put your wand away. Simon. Let him go. Now. Bad horse." Harry had no idea what would make a horse let go of its prey – horses weren't even meant to have prey – but he tugged on the leadrope sharply and spoke strongly, carefully not shouting in case Simon got even more upset and bit down harder. "Simon! Let him go."

With a twist of his head that made Lupin groan, Simon let go. Remus stumbled back.

"Harry, get out of the paddock." Remus was reaching for his wand again. And Simon's eyes were trained on that hand as it stole towards the pocket where Remus had his wand. Simon's black eyes glittered with all the cold malice of a snake about to strike.

"Professor, you need to get out of the paddock now. Simon won't hurt me."

"I won't tell you again! Harry! Ge-" He darted back as Simon twisted his head and tried to rear. When Remus tried to grab Harry, Simon struck out with his front hooves, lunging forward and putting himself between Harry and Lupin.

"You're just making him worse," Harry panted, hauling on the leadrope, trying desperately to keep his voice calm. "He thinks he's defending me from you. Oh, and he deliberately didn't hit you just then, but the next time he uses his hooves like that he might do it seriously."

Remus opened his mouth, but thought better of it and slipped through the gate. Simon stamped his feet angrily, twitching his tail and making sure that at every moment he was standing between Harry and the gate. "I appreciate the thought, but you're not helping the cause any," Harry muttered. "I'm going to lead him around a bit to calm him down," he said more loudly to Lupin. "It's – don't you dare!"

Remus, pale-faced with pain, had drawn his wand and was pointing it at Simon. Harry whipped out his own wand just in time.

"Protego!"

Remus' spell bounced and spun off into the mist.

"Expelliarmus!"

Remus' wand spun away after the spell.

"Don't you ever try to put a spell on this horse in anger," Harry said, feeling as if part of him was speaking from a distance. That part of him sounded calm instead of raging.

Remus looked almost as furious as Harry felt. "I am your professor, Harry, and I tell you to get away from that dangerous animal!"

"With all due respect, sir, I think the reason Simon is so dangerous is because people like to provoke him. I'm sorry he hurt you but you can't blame a horse like you'd blame a human. You can only make sure that the situation never arises again and learn what you did wrong. And I won't let you harm him."

"I wasn't going to harm him. Harry…"

"You don't know that. I'm going to walk him for a bit, sir. I'll see you in Hall later."

"Harry…"

"I believe your wand went over behind those bushes."

Lupin didn't call again, to Harry's relief.

He walked Simon up the hill to the rocky top, where moorland began. They stood together, horse and boy, watching as the sun rose in a cauldron of fire and burned away the mist and the long shadows of the castle took shape out of the darkness. Something in Harry burned away, too, as he leaned against Simon's shoulder with his arm slung over the high withers, feeling the simple honesty of a horse solid against the complexity of the role he'd been jettisoned into when the Darkest wizard of the age marked him with a curse that had no defence other than love, leaving him tired and wishing there was someone he could rely on – someone older than himself – who would make everything alright and take this weight from him.

He'd felt this often enough, even before he found out about Hogwarts. That was a simple one, a need for his parents and he knew it and accepted it as something he couldn't change. In third year and after, he'd latched onto Remus and Sirius as a nebulous source of substitute parenthood, but he'd recognised recently that it was unfair to everyone; not just because Remus and Sirius were so preoccupied with matters above and beyond Harry (and as it was the defence of Hogwarts Harry didn't resent this), but mainly because Harry was simply unable to accept and trust adult authority. Hermione had told him this and he'd seen the truth of it. It was something he understood and only partially regretted. But the other, darker shadows he could sense feathering at the edges of his own mind never took shape and, like every other day of his life he still couldn't fully make out their nature.

Then Simon shifted, the sun reflecting blue and gold in the tiniest rainbows off individual hairs in his forelock, sighed, and checked Harry's hands in case apples had magically appeared, and the shadows fled as Harry smiled.

ooOOoo

Warned, Hermione found another source for the Timesplitz bug powder. She (or rather, Draco's Mendeleev gloves) found an old, broken Time Turner, and emptied its glass bulbs of the powder and mixed it in with the other dried ingredients she'd tracked down. This was only the second dry potion she'd ever tried, and if Harry hadn't known her so well he wouldn't have known she was nervous.

"That should do it," she said as she sprinkled it around the circle. "The spell will put you back in time and then bring you back here in five days." She gave Harry a worried look, counterbalancing Ron's sullen one and Draco's folded-arm stance of polite scepticism. None of them, particularly Harry, were pleased with his decision to go.

"Look, Potter… you're the one who survived You-Know-Who. We might need you at some future date just in case you've got some edge on him," was Draco's argument, accompanied by a still slightly fuzzy-around-the-edges glare. Harry was pleased that Draco cared enough to argue for his safety. "Besides, they're my gloves and I know how to use them the best."

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Good idea. Let's send Malfoy."

Luna, who'd been polishing her wand on her sleeve and picking away at specks only she could see, tucked it away behind her ear and sighed, echoing Hermione. "The spell fixed on Harry. There's nothing we can do to counter it unless you've got an unending source of Timesplitz bug powder to experiment with."

The room fell silent at sense from Luna.

But she was right. Harry knew that. What he didn't know was why this spell, taken in the main from Snape's mysterious writings and fine-tuned by Hermione (who admitted that she didn't fully understand what Snape had written), had chosen him as the mobile locus. But when Hermione had uttered the spell, fully intending to be the one going (as she had studied Old English and would be able to talk to the Founders), it had zoomed around the room like a little yellow comet, spitting orange sparks, and smacked Harry in the back of the head. It still sent out the occasional spark.

Harry sneezed. A green spark shot out his nose and he stomped on it before it could set the rug on fire. They were in a corridor outside what seemed to be a small, locked store-room in the North Tower, somewhere near Trelawney's quarters, he guessed, and even she would be alerted to strange goings-on when the tower caught fire. Not to mention people who might come wandering this way and interrupt. Although the gloves had chosen this spot as the best fixed locus for the spell none of them, not even Luna, were quite ready to put blind faith in accessories. They'd warded the corridor with the most subtle spells Hermione and Draco knew to deflect the curious and idle from any business they might think they had along this corridor. But it didn't mean Harry had to trust those spells, either. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and shifted from one foot to the other.

"Let's get on with it. The moon won't wait. We all know this is the best option for breaking the Blockade."

Hermione grumbled and Ron sighed loudly, but they were both wise enough to Harry's moods to know when his temper was running short. Besides, Harry was right. All the research they'd done, running Hermione's research skills and the Mendeleev gloves to their limits, had come up with nothing that gave even the remotest hint of promise. It wasn't just Harry's temper that was running short: all the professors in the castle seemed to be edgier this week. No owls had got through the Blockade since the third morning after the Death Eater attack. The rumour that the kitchens were running short of food was being sternly suppressed by the short-tempered teachers with such ferocity that one Ravenclaw had suggested that they were channelling the spirit of Snape. She'd been given a week's detention with Filch when she was overheard by the normally sanguine Professor Sprout. Given the sudden increase in porridge for breakfast Harry didn't think it was merely a rumour, although he was smart enough to keep that opinion to himself.

After all the preparation, the worry, and the sleepless nights when Harry and Ron had gone down to the common room to find Hermione up already, going over and over her notes, it all boiled down to a simple little key spell and a powder potion.

The potion Hermione had prepared from Snape's notes was a surprisingly dark blue, and it glittered in a circle around Harry's feet as he clutched his wand in his hands, which were wearing the Mendeleev gloves. A small pack was on his back, complete with five days of basic food, a book translating Old English to Modern, and some money – just in case. Harry wasn't going to get any more ready, only more anxious. And he already felt ill at the idea of being catapulted through time. He didn't want to get to the time of the Founders just to throw up at Helga Hufflepuff's feet.

Harry nodded. "Let's do it." If only his voice had come out a bit stronger. Even Draco looked concerned when he heard it.

Hermione sighed. "Chronos, hear my call. Send this worthy traveller to the source of his wanderings."

If there was more to the spell, Harry didn't hear it. A wall of blue light erupted around him and his world imploded.

For an eternity that lasted a millisecond, he felt himself impossibly small. Then, in the next eternity, he was vast and extended across galaxies.

Then he was Harry-sized again, and astonished that he remembered what shape and size he was meant to be, and the blue of infinity shrank within itself and he fell.

He fell on something soft and not soft; something that cursed angrily in a winded voice.

"Get off me, damn you!"

Harry (it took him a second to remember that Harry was his name) blinked as his vision came back from the blue of infinity and the black of the abyss, to see the black of the abyss reflected in two angry eyes in front of him.

"Get off me, Potter," snarled the owner of the eyes, "before I rip out your liver and feed it to you."

Oh, great.

He had landed on Snape.

ooOOoo