Undertow
The library at Malfoy Manor was what most pure-bloods would describe as elegant and charming. Most muggle-borns would have used the word ostentatious. It was a sizable room, just short of cavernous, and lit by several crystal chandeliers accented with gold and various precious stones.
The numerous bookcases were part of the floor and walls and made of white marble. Several stained glass windows allowed ample light in during the day and were accompanied by silver and green armchairs positioned to make best use of the light. The overall impression was of scholarship and wealth.
It was not a room one would expect to find in the home of one of Lord Voldemort's Inner Circle Death Eaters. However, one of the first rules of the magical world was that first impressions were almost always inaccurate.
Lucius Malfoy stood in one of the back rows of his library, next to the body of a muggle who was currently being inhabited by the specter of the Dark Lord. He had been terrified when the slack-jawed man had appeared in his parlor, and his house elves had been equally frightened by his reaction.
A swift explanation, as well as the revelation of the Dark Lord's face imbedded in the back of the muggle's skull, persuaded him to do what he did best. Survive by any means.
"Lucius," hissed the weakened voice of his Lord, "your betrayal is especially painful to me. Of all my subjects, I often thought of you as the most loyal. I gave you power and strength and you repaid me with apathy."
"My Lord, how may I redeem myself?"
The muggle's body staggered for a moment, the muscles controlled by Voldemort were beginning to deteriorate.
"You should have searched for me. I am Lord Voldemort! The name 'Malfoy' is known even on the continent. You have had power in your grasp for over a decade, yet you did nothing. Nothing! You are fortunate that your library is in excellent condition. There may be a way for you to contribute once more."
"How, my Lord?" asked Lucius, desperate to please the abomination in front of him.
"Leave me, Lucius. Soon enough I will have a task for you that shall set my return in motion. I can only hope that you will not fail me again, or both of us will suffer the consequences. You much more so than I, I promise you."
Lucius nodded and bowed, then walked as fast as his dignity would allow out of the library. He let out a shudder as the door closed and wondered with curiosity and dread what the Dark Lord was planning.
As Harry walked into his second Transfiguration lesson, he smiled to see a large black, grim-like dog sitting to the side of Minerva's desk as she nodded a welcome to the students. She caught his eye and raised her brow in a barely perceptible manner. Harry quashed the pleased look on his face and took a seat at a table in the second row. Hermione took the seat next to him and nudged him gently with a small grin.
Their first two days of classes had gone well. Harry had done his best to imitate his previous first week of classes and spoke in class only when called upon. Hermione had done her best to limit herself. During the summer, Harry had shown her several memories of their years at Hogwarts. He had gently but firmly suggested that it would become obvious very quickly that she was the smartest witch at Hogwarts and that he needed her to act somewhat unexceptionable. Having a friend as perceptive as Hermione able to interact with the student body more naturally would be valuable.
She saw the logic easily and managed to raise her hand two or three times per class, at most. She was proud of her restraint, but decided this would be a perfect time to ask a question.
"Professor McGonagall, we're not going to transfigure that poor dog, are we?"
Harry looked down at his hands so that he wouldn't give away his amusement and Minerva stood quickly to distract herself from laughing. The dog glanced toward their table with a glint in its eye and then yawned loudly.
"Who is familiar with the concept of an animagus?" asked Minerva, beginning the lecture immediately after taking roll.
Almost all the students raised in the magical world raised their hands. Hermione failed to do so, causing Ron and Neville, who were sitting at the table behind them, to gape stupidly at the realization that they knew something that she didn't. Harry reminded himself to go flying soon in his Merlin Hawk form. Minerva had mentioned to him several times that lack of use would cause the back muscles which transformed into his wings to become atrophied.
The dog, which many of the students were eyeing suspiciously, trotted up the center aisle of the classroom wagging its tail and sniffing students. Turning around, it caught sight of Harry and lay its head down on his foot. A few of the students were standing up and leaning forward to watch what was happening and Harry's cheeks started to redden as he heard Lavender and Parvati start to coo over how cute it was, even if it was a bit scruffy.
At that comment, Sirius snorted some dog snot onto Harry's shoes and started to stand on his hind legs while at the same time transforming into his human form. Even with the knowledge that the dog was most likely a wizard or witch, many of the students were startled into a short scream. Hermione joined them, doing her best impression of a naive muggle-born.
Harry grinned at his godfather, who was beaming at the reaction from the class. Unable to help himself, Sirius glanced at Harry and gave him a wink. Inside, Harry groaned, knowing that it would only reinforce the rumors of favoritism, but seeing Sirius happy banished the thought.
The class proceeded fairly normally after Sirius' display. Minerva introduced him to the class as their assistant professor and explained that he would have the same powers as any of the Hogwarts staff. He would only be in each class teaching once a week, but available any time for questions and tutoring.
The lesson for the day was a continuation of transfiguring a matchstick into a needle from the previous class, but with the added element of Sirius strolling to and fro giving advice, explaining wand movements and pronunciation and generally encouraging everyone. By the end of the period, everyone had managed at least a fair imitation of a needle. Harry could see the pride in Sirius' face, which caused his own mood to improve.
And it needed improvement. With only a twenty minute break for gathering books, Harry and Hermione, along with the rest of the Gryffindors headed down to the dungeons for their first Potions lesson.
Albus had warned him that Snape was apoplectic with fury when informed that the two remained Marauders would be on staff during the current school year. Considering his memories and Snape's added irritation, Harry expected nothing less than cruel disparagement and verbose insults regarding every move he made.
As they entered the Potions classroom, Harry stumbled into Ron, who had stopped suddenly just inside the doorway. Glancing toward the front of the room for an explanation, Harry spotted the incensed face of Severus Snape. The man's eyes were fixed on him and slid up to his scar before locking onto Harry's own eyes.
Harry had faced many terrifying things in his life, both while at Hogwarts and as an Auror, but the vision in front of him caused him to gulp down an unwanted bubble of fear. A small part of his mind was amazed at Snape's ability to inspire dread.
"Sit down!" ordered Snape in an even voice that nevertheless managed to convey his rage. The rest of the class scurried into the room and took their seats as quietly as possible, but the professor had eyes only for Harry, tracking him the entire journey from door to table. Hermione and Ron looked worried for their friend, while Neville wore an expression of terror that Harry guessed Snape dreamed of inspiring on all of his students.
When everyone had taken their seats and prepared their cauldrons, Snape stood and stalked to the blackboard.
"There will be no foolish wand waving in this class. If I see your wand, you will have detention for a week. If you interfere with another student's potion, I will put every effort into having you expelled and your wand snapped. I do not expect any of you to understand the complex art that is potion brewing. The most I will hope for is that none of you will get your classmates killed due to your own idiocy."
With a sharp flick of his wrist, Snape spelled a set of instructions on the board and then walked to the back wall of the classroom and flung open a set of cabinets.
"These are the ingredients for today's potion. It is designed to cure boils and ease pain. I do not foresee any of you successfully brewing anything correctly for many months, so I will mark you based on your ability to follow instruction. Begin!"
The last was said so sharply and with such anger that most of the class jumped and hesitated a moment too long. Snape lost his temper and inadvertently caused a loud bang and some green sparks to erupt from his wand, which was gripped tightly in his hand.
The class quickly organized themselves and gathered the necessary ingredients, avoiding their professor's gaze at all costs. Within a few minutes, Harry and Ron were moving on to the second step of their potion when they sensed a malevolent presence behind them.
"Potter," murmured Snape in a silky sweet voice dripping with danger, "you are a disgrace." He was speaking so softly that only Ron and Harry could hear him. His breath caused goose-bumps to form along the back of Harry's neck.
"I can see that you've inherited none of your mother's skill for potions, which shouldn't surprise me. The idea of a Potter with subtly is about as ludicrous as a Black with loyalty. You will not be coddled in this class. Unless you are perfect, which I'm sure you mistakenly think you are, you will fail. If you go and cry to your mutt of a godfather or that half-breed friend of his, I will make it my mission to have you expelled. Do you understand me, Potter?"
Harry was torn between sorrow and fury as he listened to the man he had named his second son after, but nodded to acknowledge the threat.
"Yes, sir," he said.
In a louder voice, Snape spoke again. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter. You must concentrate on your potion at all times. Day dreaming will only cause you disappointment." Then, in a whisper, he spoke only to Harry. "Unfortunately, your family seems to find disappointment wherever it goes." When Harry refused to respond, Snape whispered once again.
"Twenty more points from Gryffindor, Potter. For your cheek. And your choice in guardians."
Snape's cloak billowed as he glided away and Harry glanced at Ron to see the redhead staring at their professor with a look of hatred. Trying to distract him so that they wouldn't lose anymore points, Harry urged Ron to complete the potion, though it was already ruined after missing a step because of Snape's interruption.
Harry had not quite predicted such a hostile Severus Snape. He began to wonder what else had escaped his plans.
"That should be the last of them," said Tonks. She sighed and fell into her chair in the Non-Magical Interference Administration field agent office. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat down at the desk across from her with a smile and a nod.
"You did well today. Your speed at taking down those charms was even faster than your training time."
"Thanks. Will I be the one putting them back up for winter holidays?"
Kingsley shook his head. "No, we have some recruits that are finishing up the basics. Should be ready for field training in about a month. You may have to supervise, though."
Tonks nodded, pleased that she wouldn't have to cast and take down the various muggle-aversion charms that the Muggle Relations Department had decided to surround platform nine and three quarters at Kings Cross Station with every time Hogwarts students traveled back and forth. As the first newly graduated student to join the department, Tonks would hold a small level of seniority over the recruits that would be arriving.
Kingsley rose. "I'm going to have some tea. You?"
Tonks shook her head and sat a bit straighter in her chair. "Thanks, but I'm going to get started on these evaluation forms. You said you needed them by tomorrow, right?"
"Right," agreed Kingsley. "Don't be too harsh on your self-evaluation, Tonks. As I said, you did well today. We're really just working through these things so that we know what we're doing once the recruits arrive. They're the ones who are going to need them."
"Fair enough," said Tonks who went to work as Kingsley ambled away to get his drink.
After several minutes, Kingsley returned, but before he could sit down a witch who looked disheveled to the point that Kingsley considered ordering her to take the rest of the day off ran up to their desks.
"Agent Shacklebolt, the muggle police have reported a missing person. There's no sign of physical violence, but reports indicate a shadowy mark on the wall the police claim is still warm to the touch."
"Sounds like a dark curse to me," said Tonks. Kingsley made no move to argue with her. The witch turned to her and continued her report, causing Tonks to blush.
"All indicators point to an abduction, ma'am. The resident, a William Arthurs, twenty-seven years old, muggle, has not been seen or heard from in over four days."
"Let's go see what this is about," said Kingsley. Tonks stood, cast a sticking charm on the evaluation forms she had been working on, then donned her cloak and followed her superior to the floo.
After arriving at the designated disapparation zone nearest the crime scene, Kingsley turned to her and assumed his teaching mode.
"Now, Tonks, if there are any police inside the apartment...?"
"Immediate stun, followed by memory modification."
"Good. I doubt there will be anyone there, so hopefully no need to worry about it. But if there are some police, I will assist you. Understood?"
"Gotcha," answered Tonks.
"I also want you to practice your spell identification skills. This is yours today, alright? I'm only here to observe and assist as needed."
Tonks nodded her understanding, but felt a flutter of nervous anticipation in her belly as she prepared to disapparate.
A quick glance around the living room of the flat showed no sign of police or anyone else. Tonks and Kingsley quickly searched the rest of the flat, which was small but clean and extremely neat. A small bedroom with white walls and a few prints hanging on the wall was the only room that seemed very lived in at all. It was here that Kingsley could sense the dark magic that had been used, but he stayed quiet and waited for Tonks to make her own conclusions. He watched as her eyes rapidly scanned the room, taking in every detail. The moment of realization was easy to spot as Tonks' eyes widened and her hair shifted from pink to a jet black shade.
"It happened in here," she said.
Kingsley made an affirmative noise and waited for her to continue.
"He was sleeping, or in bed," said Tonks as she began to circumnavigate the room. "There's nothing to indicate forced entry. No magic on the doors. Our detection spells would have showed something." She paused to think for a moment and then looked to Kingsley, unable to finish the thought.
He pointed to a slightly darkened section of the wall, between a window and the bed. It looked like a shadow, but there was nothing there to block the light. Tonks cautiously approached it and cast a detection charm, too fast for Kingsley to stop her.
"Tonks!"
A grunt that would have been appropriate for getting kicked in the stomach escaped his partner's mouth and he managed to grab her before she fell to the ground. A coughing fit followed, resulting in Tonks losing what little lunch she had managed to eat earlier that afternoon.
Several minutes of dry heaving followed and after a conjured glass of water to rinse her mouth, Tonks managed to stand a bit shakily.
"What the hell was that, Shack? I've never heard of something reacting like that to a detection spell."
"Tonks, you should never cast a detection spell on unknown dark magic. I didn't think I would have to tell you that." Kingsley heard the sharpness in his voice and attempted to calm himself. "Now, what can you tell me?"
Attempting to steady herself, Tonks chose to sit down on the floor and think for a moment. Finally, she answered his question.
"That is extremely dark magic that I'm not familiar with, and the thought of staying near it, or this apartment, makes me extremely uneasy. Whatever happened to Mr. Arthurs was apparently unpleasant but I can't tell you anything specific."
With a nod, Kingsley grabbed an arm and hoisted Tonks to her feet. "Good enough. We've done all we can here, we should let the Aurors handle it. Let's get you to St. Mungo's."
"I'm fine, Shack. Let's head back to-"
"You're going to St. Mungo's, that's an order. You can't play around with magic like this, Tonks. It's too dangerous. Let's go, I'll sidealong you."
They disapparated from the muggle flat with a loud pop.
After what felt like hours, the spinning sensation of international portkey travel dissipated and Bill Weasley found himself standing in the portkey arrival terminal just off the Ministry of Magic Atrium in London. He steadied himself but lurched to the side due to his lost equilibrium, nearly tripping over Rock, who was standing to his left.
"William, are you alright?" asked the goblin in neutral tone.
Bill knew that was as close to concern as the goblin was willing to show and nodded. "Fine, just give me a second."
His companion didn't bother to respond and began to exit the terminal. Bill followed slowly, still unable to walk in a straight line, feeling like he'd drunk a couple of firewhiskey's but not enough to singe his eyebrows.
The two curse-breakers entered the atrium together and Bill did his best not to return the many stares the two of them were receiving. He rationalized that it was not common for a wizard and a goblin to be walking together, especially when both of them were wearing rust colored body armor from a Peruvian Vipertooth dragon. Bill winced in remembrance of their battle against the dragon. He winced again at the thought of what his mother would say when she saw the marks on his face that still had not healed completely.
The healers had told him they shouldn't scar, but it had already been a few months and the two ragged slashes down the left side of his face, from just below his eye to under his ear, were still an angry pink. Rock had told him scars were honorable and that humans put too much thought into their appearances. Bill's response, that goblins were all hideously ugly and didn't base attractiveness on appearance, went unremarked upon by his friend.
Bill led them to the lift and the two of them entered along with a small group of witches and wizards. On the ride down to the minister's office, Bill noticed several of their fellow passengers were quite obviously glancing at the two of them, especially Rock. A goblin at the Ministry was an extremely uncommon event, and Rock did his part by flummoxing them further.
"Hello, wizard," he politely greeted a particularly scared looking young man who was holding a folder full of parchment. The wizard sucked in a startled breath and dropped his folder, scattering forms all over the floor of the lift.
Bill snorted while Rock grinned, causing the others around them to shrink back against the wall.
Eventually they reached level one and exited the lift with two nervous looking witches. They slowly strolled down the hallway and approached the Minister's office. Two hit wizards stood outside the entrance and ordered them to wait. A moment later, a small house elf that Bill recognized as Creaky popped in and waved his hands at them. Bill felt nothing, but noticed Rock stiffen slightly before both the goblin and the elf relaxed. Creaky let out a happy squeak and smiled widely.
"Mr. Wheezy and Mr. Rockyspear, you is expected to meet Ms. Bonesy. Come, come!" the elf exclaimed excitedly and popped back to wherever he had come from. One of the hit wizards opened the door for them and the two travelers entered the office of the Minister of Magic.
Waiting in the reception area was Michelle Alton, who stood from her desk and welcomed both of them with a handshake. In the year since she had started her job and Harry had come back in time, Michelle had transformed from an uncertain muggle-born witch into a confident power in the ministry.
"Bill, Rock, excellent to see you again. What happened to your face?" she asked suddenly, and Bill flushed slightly while Rock's mouth opened in a silent laugh.
"Dragon," he said simply, waving his hands to suggest the dragon skin armor the two of them were wearing. Michelle's eyes widened and Bill was reminded again that he had an extremely unusual and somewhat dangerous occupation. This was a woman who had barely batted an eye at the fact Harry Potter had traveled from the future to help destroy Voldemort. Harry had once explained to him that muggle-borns were more easily able to process seemingly impossible situations since a large part of their minds still had trouble believing magic itself was real.
"Well, the Minister is expecting you. Let me make sure she's not busy."
Michelle walked over the Minister's door and peeked in, spoke a few muffled words and then returned with a smile.
"She says to come on in. Let's go." The three of them entered the office and found Amelia walking over to them. Her face registered shock at the marks on Bill's face, but then took on an expression of curiosity.
"'Here there be dragons,'" said Amelia, half questioningly.
Bill nodded, still somewhat embarrassed.
"But you're alright? No permanent damage?"
"The healers say there should be no scarring," said Bill.
Amelia nodded and motioned for them to sit in a pair of chairs in the corner of the room to the right of the door. She joined them and Michelle exited the office to return to her desk. The three of them made small talk for a bit, as Bill and Rock described their journey to South America and Amelia filled them in on the situation in Britain.
"Minister Bones," interrupted Rock, "I am curious about your reasons for summoning us."
The blunt statement caught Amelia off guard as she realized she had been spending far too much time playing politics at the ministry.
"Of course," she said. "I'd like you and Bill to join Alastor and Nicolas in warding homes and businesses. Especially against the dark mark. I believe the four of you would be able to effectively seal off most places from those wishing our friends and family harm."
"Has there been any indication that Voldemort is making a move?" asked Bill.
Amelia shook her head. "Nothing we're sure about, but Tonks and Shacklebolt found something disturbing in a Muggle apartment in London about two weeks ago. No one at Hogwarts has noticed anything out of the ordinary. Relatively, of course."
"You wish to use goblin magic," said Rock.
"Yes."
"You realize that for goblin wards to function continuously, they must be reinforced by goblins regularly?"
Amelia responded by summoning a thick stack of parchment from her desk. As it floated over, Bill glanced at Rock who answered his look by giving the goblin equivalent of a shrug.
When the documents landed in front of Rock, Amelia began to explain. "This is the first draft of a declaration of goblin equality, written by the Goblin Liaison Office. It specifically lays out the rights and privileges of goblins as equal to those of witches and wizards. That includes optional education for goblin children, wand rights if desired, employment protection in non-goblin enterprises and representation in the Wizengamot."
"What does the Ministry expect from the goblins in return?" asked Rock, wondering what Amelia had promised the bigoted pure-bloods that still had so much power in the ministry. He had helped her outline the declaration several months earlier, before he and Bill had left for South America.
"Interest rates no more than one-half of a percentage higher than recognized inflation rates for emergency ministry loans, approved by the Wizengamot and the High Council."
"What else?"
"Ministry input on the accounts of convicted criminals."
Rock laughed at that, while Bill smiled and shook his head.
Amelia conceded the likelihood of that point being approved by the Goblin High Council. "I know that has no chance of passage, but goblins aren't the only negotiators in the magical world."
"True, true," agreed Rock. "You won't be asking for more than that, I suppose. Getting the rates you want will be difficult enough for the High Council to accept."
His curiosity unable to be contained, Bill asked the question which had initiated the push for goblin rights so quickly. "What about the Lestrange vault?"
At the same moment Amelia was saying, "Yes," Rock scowled and interrupted her.
"I do not see Ragnok or the High Council ever allowing the ministry, or any individual wizard access to a customer's vault."
"What if we trade the low interest loans for one-time access to the vaults?" asked Bill.
"No. No, I do not believe anything will persuade the goblins that violating their agreements, even if the agreement is with a family as vile as the Lestranges, would be acceptable."
A sigh escaped Amelia. "What do you think it would take to get access to that vault?"
If goblins sighed, Rock would have responded with one of his own. "I truly do not know. I apologize that I cannot be of more help, but even if I was willing to assist in forcing our way into the Lestrange vault, I would only bring more scrutiny to the effort. I have not worked inside a Gringotts bank in over five decades."
"Well," said Amelia, "we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Maybe someone will have an idea beyond breaking in. I've seen the memory so many times that I'm convinced the chances of it succeeding again are infinitesimally low. Now, let me tell you about what Alastor and Nicolas have already planned for the warding."
The three of them spent most of the next hour haggling. Bill and Rock did not seem very interested in putting up wards, only in tearing them down. But Amelia had risen to her position as Minister of Magic for reasons other than a time-traveling first year.
Harry realized that Ron's life had been almost turned upside down in the past year. Infrequent visits back to England during his year of traveling had always included a visit to the Burrow. Although he was getting used to seeing Ginny as a young girl yet to start at Hogwarts, watching his brother in all but blood change at such an astonishing rate was disconcerting.
The strangest element to the situation was that Ron appeared to be maturing at a rate that may have even surpassed the time during their search for Voldemort's horcruxes. He had discussed it with many of the people who were aware of his status as a time-traveler, and as always, Albus was the one to give the most logical and probable answer.
"Mr. Weasley," Albus had stated, "is being treated by you, his best friend, as well as by his father and older brother in a way which keeps the man he will become in mind. It appears to have increased his self-respect. Respect for his family has no doubt also increased thanks to William and Arthur's increase in status, as well as Charlie's new position in Romania."
Harry and Albus had debated into the early morning over glasses of gillywater. Though neither of them were certain, Harry deferred to Albus' judgement and experience as a teacher. He had, after-all, been dealing with adolescents for much longer than Harry had been alive. In any universe.
At the moment, Harry and Ron were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was struggling a bit with Herbology homework while Harry was pretending to be stymied by some readings for Charms. Being Sunday, both assignments were due the next day, and they had spent most of the weekend exploring the castle. Hermione had finished her homework the day before and was spending time with her dorm-mates upstairs. Harry was happy for her, and that his somewhat misleading suggestions about blending in were allowing Hermione to make the friends she had lacked in his original universe.
"Argh!" moaned Ron as he dropped his quill in frustration. A bit of ink splattered onto the table they were working on, and Harry checked his book for any new blotches.
"Sorry, mate," Ron apologized. "I just can't seem to get this, do you think Hermione can help me through it?"
Harry glanced over at him and was a little startled to see Hermione walk up behind Ron. She smiled at him and nodded, though Harry decided to have a little fun with his friends first.
"I don't know, she might be busy."
"Oh, come on, Harry! The girl might be mental, but she's so smart she makes you and me look like Crabbe and Goyle."
Harry frowned a bit and saw Hermione's face begin to form a hurt expression. Fortunately, Ron continued.
"Besides, she's interesting. I've never had the chance to hang out with any Muggle-borns before. She has the strangest ideas in her head. I'd love for her to meet my dad, it would be hilarious! Let's see if we can get one of those girls to run upstairs and ask Hermione to come help us out. You don't think she'd mind, do you?"
There was no response from Harry to Ron's comment as the redhead was attacked by a bushy haired blur. Harry laughed as Hermione gave Ron a tight squeeze then released him.
"Of course I'll help you two," said Hermione. "There wasn't much for me to contribute up there anyway. Lavender and Parvati keep talking about makeup, but I've never worn makeup, and don't know any of the spells to magic it on. They seem a little useless, actually. The spells, I mean. Not Lavender and Parvati."
Ron and Harry laughed while Hermione blushed at her accidental non-insult and sat down in the chair next to Ron's. As he watched his two friends avoid a potentially negative repeat of his past, Harry absently finished his Charms work and stared into space. The chatter and laughs of his fellow Gryffindors barely penetrated his consciousness. His thoughts and plans toward the future were not interrupted until Ron shook his shoulder.
"Harry, we're going down to the Great Hall for lunch. You coming?" said Ron.
"Yeah, just give me a minute." Harry packed up his books and rolled his parchment up and placed it in his bag. The two boys quickly ran upstairs and dropped off their possessions, then met Hermione by the entrance of Gryffindor tower.
Harry was quiet for most of the walk, but as they approached the doors to the Great Hall, the sound of several hundred students was suddenly blocked out as Harry's forehead erupted into a sharp, punishing pain that was frighteningly familiar.
He grunted quietly enough that Ron didn't even notice, but Hermione looked back and saw the expression on his face. Her eyes widened in concern, then terror as she realized the potential meaning of Harry's hand clasped to his scar.
"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" she asked, getting more anxious with each passing second.
By now, Ron had stopped and was looking back at the two of them in confusion, fear and worry etched on his face as Harry staggered a bit before steadying himself against the wall. Several seconds passed as the pain in his scar lessened and then dissipated completely. Harry took a deep breath and looked up into the scared eyes of Hermione and Ron, the two people who he had managed to become friends with in two universes.
"I'm fine," he said, giving Hermione a significant look. They had discussed what she should do if Harry had any pain in his scar. "Can one of you take me to the hospital wing? I think I just need a pain relief potion."
"Sure, I'll take you. I think I remember where Percy said it was," said Ron as he took Harry's arm and started leading him off.
"I'll come visit you after lunch, OK?" shouted Hermione to the retreating figures of her friends. Harry raised his hand in acknowledgment and Hermione turned around and did her best not to burst into the Great Hall and sprint to the head table.
She walked through the doors and headed toward the head table at a controlled but brisk pace, hoping that no one would notice. It wasn't unusual for students to speak with their professors during mealtimes, and no one spared her a glance as she approached Minerva.
"Professor McGonagall?"
Minerva had been speaking with Severus and before she could process who was speaking to her, Snape sneered at the first year girl.
"Miss Granger, do you realize that it's considered rude in some cultures to speak to someone who is in the middle of a conversation?"
Hermione blushed furiously but didn't let Snape's uncivil manner distract her. "I'm sorry Professor Snape, but I just need to ask Professor McGonagall a quick question."
"Yes, Miss Granger?" prompted Minerva.
"Harry, Ron and I were having some trouble with our Transfiguration homework, and they said we should just go ask Professor Black," Snape scowled and looked at his plate, "but I was wondering if there was any chance you could give us some advice. Harry especially needs some help."
For a moment, Hermione was worried that the head of Gryffindor had forgotten the agreed upon system to be used among those aware of Harry's time-travel. After a moment, though, Minerva's brow rose and she nodded sharply.
"I'll be happy to. When would you three be available to come to my office?"
"As soon as you can have us, ma'am. We really need as much help as we can get."
"I understand, Miss Granger. Go ahead and have your lunch and we'll make an appointment for tonight. I'll prepare some questions for you after lunch."
Minerva began preparing to leave the Great Hall after dismissing Hermione. Snape glanced at her as he sipped his tea.
"Minerva, you are far too accommodating to your house. Especially these new first years. They don't know enough yet to really understand most of what you're teaching them in the first place."
"Thank you Severus," she replied, shortly. "I enjoy helping my students, however. And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish marking the seventh year's essays before dinner."
Hermione watched as her head of house swiftly walked out of the back entrance of the Great Hall and sighed in relief. Harry had seemed fine after his small attack, but she knew from the memories he had shown her that it was a serious situation.
A few minutes later she had still not eaten much lunch and was considering going to the hospital wing to check on Harry when several owls flew down from outside the Great Hall. One landed on the Gryffindor table quite near her and Dean Thomas read the note attached to the large sack tied to the bird's leg and shouted down to her.
"Granger, this one's for you! From Flourish & Blott's, I think!"
Hermione stood from her almost untouched lunch and grabbed the sack from the owl. Dean fed it slice of roast beef and it flew away with a grateful 'hoot,' happy to have been relieved of it's large load.
For a moment, Hermione forgot about Harry and time-travel and evil dark lords. She was lost in her new collection of books that she'd ordered at the wizarding bookstore in Diagon Alley while she had been shopping with Harry and Remus. She left the Great Hall to go back to the common room, intent on skimming over some of her purchases.
In the hospital wing, Harry was lying in bed being examined by Madam Pomfrey when Minerva and Sirius entered. They immediately rushed to his side.
"Hey guys, I'm fine. Really," assured Harry, but the looks on their faces showed they would only accept that as long as Madam Pomfrey was within hearing range.
The matron turned to the two professors. "He seems to be perfectly healthy. No sign of magically induced trauma or interference. I'd like to keep him here overnight as the Weasley boy seemed very upset, and with his brothers I'm sure he's seen his share of injuries. However, you're his guardian, Sirius, so it's up to you."
And with that she bustled off to her office and the two professors looked down at Harry in concern and curiosity.
"It was only for a few moments, but I could sense that he was happy about something," said Harry without any prelude.
Minerva's mouth formed into a thin line and Sirius began to pace back and forth for a moment before rounding on Harry.
"What does this mean? Is he getting stronger?" he asked his godson.
"I don't know. I don't think so," answered Harry. He rubbed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "We knew he would have a plan to come back. He always will until we destroy him or he succeeds."
"We must advance our timing of the destruction of the other horcruxes. I will inform Albus of the situation," said Minerva. She strode from the room, robes spiraling around her feet as Sirius sat down on the edge of Harry's bed.
"It's about to start getting bad, Sirius. I can feel it."
"It'll be better this time. There's so many people here to help you. We're going to beat him quick this time. Then we'll move on to everything else," reassured Sirius.
"I hope so. I really do," said Harry.
The two sat in silence for the rest of the afternoon.
A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoyed this one. I noticed that the last chapter had a rather low number of reviews. I'll take that as punishment for not updating for so long, but now you need to get back on the ball and start reviewing. It's polite and nutritious, as well.
I imagine that there will be some questions about what's going to happen in the next few chapters. I would have to guess that there will only be 3 or 4 more chapters after this one. It's going to start wrapping up soon, though the last two chapters will be pretty intense and exciting (hopefully).
Go on and review. Every time someone reads a story and doesn't review, a squirrel dies. Don't kill the squirrels.
Oh, and I'm getting married on the 22nd. Scared? No... Maybe a little nervous. Only a little...
