13:57

A/N: Hmm. . .Rachel and James? Yeah, I can see it. Is that weird? Maybe in the sequel. . .

Joking, joking. There will be no sequel. Don't get excited. Now then. . .on with the show!

Kurt sat up slowly, still a little disoriented from his abrupt, backwards Summoning attempt. He was in the Forbidden Forest, he realized almost immediately. The towering, thick oaks were a dead giveaway, as was the way that the sun trickled through the leaves, turning everything a sickly blue color. He shivered a little when he heard the thunder above, not sounding very distant at all.

Blaine was kneeling beside him now, hazel eyes concerned and worried. Kurt shrugged him off. . .he needed to be able to concentrate, to think, and he couldn't do that when Blaine was so nearby. His first worry, of course, had been that his boyfriend was injured – that Coach Sylvester or Blais Zabini, angry that someone other than Jesse had shown up, would have cast a heinous spell and caused the boy to break out into boils, or go cross-eyed, or grow zits. But Blaine seemed more or less alright. His left sleeve was tattered, and a smear of dirt crossed his nose (it was rather adorable, really). There was a thin cut against one cheekbone. All of them, thought Kurt, looked like injuries sustained in the labyrinth, not the product of an evil fashion designer's spells.

But neither Blais Zabini nor Coach Sylvester were in the clearing with them. And, for that matter, it didn't look like the place that the tunnel came out, the place where Kurt had overheard the plan in the first place. This was a part of the forest he had never been in. Other than the crash of thunder, it was completely silent.

"Well, Kurt, this is certainly a surprise."

"Likewise," Kurt said, peering up at Professor Schuester. Blaine helped him up, until they were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing their Magical Lyricism professor. A thousand pieces of the puzzle were whizzing through Kurt's brain, but he couldn't for the life of him understand how they fit together.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt and Professor Schuester asked at the same time.

"I tried to cast the Summoning spell that you taught us," Kurt admitted, his habitual deference to teachers causing him to respond to the question instantly. "But you know I'm not very good at Magical Lyricism. . .I guess I summoned myself to Blaine, instead of the other way around."

Blaine elbowed him in the side. "He wants the Elder wand," he hissed. Kurt's gaze whipped around, snake fast, to stare at his professor.

"You want the. . .but. . .you rigged the competition?"

"Of course not," Professor Schuester snorted. He seemed to consider this for a moment, before shaking his head. "Well. . .not much anyway. I made sure that Blaine was a competitor. After that, all of the rigging was by Zabini and Sylvester."

Kurt shook his head. "But. . .how. . .why?"

"That's not important," Professor Schuester said impatiently. "What is important is that I need that wand, and I need Blaine to get it for me."
Kurt gnawed at his lip. It still didn't make any sense. Professor Schuester was one of the good guys, he was almost certain of it. Maybe he just didn't know that Harry Potter already knew about the rigged tournament. That was probably it. Kurt could just explain the original plan, and how they wouldn't get the elder wand anyway, and then they could all head back to the castle to celebrate Rachel's victory.

He was just about to suggest that, when Blaine took a step forward, putting himself between Kurt and their professor. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders thrust back. It was his façade of confidence, the showmanship that he put on before every performance.

"No, it is important," Blaine said. "You want me to do this for you. I need to know why."

"This is a powerful artifact, young man," Professor Schuester said. "You know that Blais Zabini rigged the tournament to get it. It cannot fall into the wrong hands."

Exactly, Kurt thought, and was getting ready to explain everything, when Blaine shook his head.

"No," he said. "No, that's not it. You want it for yourself. I'm not stupid, this isn't about stopping them. If you just wanted to stop them, you'd be where they are. Why did you want me to win?"

"Because I know you, Blaine," Professor Schuester said, placatingly. He walked forward, and placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. The boy jerked under it, hard enough that his elbow jostled Kurt. Professor Schuester either didn't notice, or ignored the reaction. "I know how incredibly talented you are. I know that you can do this. And I know that I can trust you."

"But I don't know if I can trust you," Blaine said. Kurt gasped.

"Blaine, he's a teacher."

Enough was enough. Professor Schuester was just trying to do a good thing, he didn't know what was going on. It was all just a miscommunication.

"It's okay, Professor Schue," he said. "We told Harry Potter all about how the tournament was rigged, and how they want the elder wand. He's there, now, so he was going to catch them before anything happened. You don't have to keep the wand safe."

The teacher turned to stare at him, then, and his eyes were cold, expressionless. Kurt shivered. He'd only seen eyes like those in the papers, the prisoners of Azkaban, the former followers of Voldemort.

"I know that," Professor Schuester said. "That was always the plan. Coach Sylvester set it all up. Helped Jesse win. So that when the two of them started to cast a spell, they could finally catch him. Mr. Weasley and his Aurors are there as well." He chuckled a little. "I'd imagine it's a bit of a clusterfuck, now, if Harry Potter is there as well."

Kurt just blinked. Professor Schue smiled a little benevolently.

"Blais Zabini is one of the Dark Lord's followers," he said. "The Ministry has been trying to catch him for almost twenty years, but he's sly. There hasn't been a way to tie him to the war, no way to prove that he's on the Dark side. But if they caught him trying to steal the elder wand, they could lock him up forever.

"I'm supposed to be there now," Professor Schuester said idly. "Coach Sylvester trusted me. I was supposed to help capture him, interrupt the spell if need be. I know about Magical Lyricism, it was my idea to entomb the wand so that was the only way to get it out. She told me about the Portkeys. It was easy to switch them."

He frowned a little at that, and glanced at Blaine. "Honestly, though," he mused. "This would all have been a little easier if Rachel had won. I expected that she would – that she would want to get back to the castle and be crowned the Triwizard Champion. When I switched the destinations of the Portkeys, I was almost sure that she would get here first. And with her talent and ambition, she would have helped me."

He shrugged. "Still," he said with a grin, "you might be more talented."

Kurt reached forward and clutched Blaine's hand, holding it tightly. The other boy was trembling – they both were, actually. He tried to squeeze reassuringly, but he wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort, his boyfriend, or himself. None of this was going the way he'd expected.

"But why do you want it?" Blaine asked tremulously. "I don't understand why"

"Because," Professor Schuester said with a sigh. "I'm not a bad person, Blaine. You know that. You know it, Kurt. I'm one of the good guys. All I've ever been was a good guy. But that's not my dream."

Kurt cleared his throat. "If all you need is a Magical Lyricism spell," he said softly. "Why don't you just sing it yourself."

Professor Schuester snapped his fingers and pointed at him. His eyes were wild, and his hair had broken free of the gell and was poking up in haphazard curls all over his head. "That's it!" he said triumphantly. "That's exactly it! Haven't you ever wondered why I never demonstrated spells myself? Why I'd always have Blaine, or Rachel, or Jesse, or Quinn show it off, even if they'd never cast the spell themselves? I'm like you, Kurt. I'm a great singer, a terrific performer, but I just can't cast the spells. I'm a failure."

"Kurt's not a failure," Blaine protested. Kurt shrugged.

"Well. . ." He said slowly. "I kind of am. I mean, I'm here, instead of you being back at the castle, right?"

"All I want to do is perform," Professor Schuester said dreamily. "It's my dream. Aren't we all allowed to dream? But I could never compete with people like Jesse st. James, who would magic people into loving him. I couldn't even compete with my own students, with a sixteen year old boy who made everyone fall in love with him just by singing, with a fifteen year old girl who brought tears to people's eyes with the sound of her voice."

He lunged forward suddenly, grabbing Blaine by the front of his sweater, pulling him forward sharply and ignoring the cry of protest. "But with the elder wand. . ." he said fiercely. "With all that power, I could headline. My name would be in stars."

"That sounds awfully selfish. . ." Blaine said uncertainly. "It doesn't even sound fair. People should like your music for itself, not because you magicked them into it."

Kurt snorted. Blaine glanced over to look at him, his eyes full of hurt. "Sorry," Kurt said, a little ashamed, but unable to keep the smile off his face. "It's just. . .he has a point. You and Rachel could sound like dump trucks and you'd still have fans."

"That's not. . ." Blaine's face screwed up, his eyebrows comoing together to join in a thick v over his nose. "Are you saying I sound like a dumptruck when I sing?"

Kurt stared at him. Really? He wanted to go into something like that right now?

"It's not just about me," Professor Schuester said. "It's you, too, Blaine. Think of how proud your father would be, if you found the Elder wand, if you controlled one of the Deathly Hallows."

The dumptruck comment was clearly forgotten. Blaine was just staring ahead now. A drop of water fell on Kurt's face, and for a moment he thought it was a tear. He didn't think he was crying, but it wouldn't be the first time that he'd overemoted. Still, when he reached up to touch his face, another droplet of water hit him on his hand. Clearly, it had begun to rain.

Blaine didn't say anything. Professor Schuester stepped in closer.

"That's all you really want, isn't it, Blaine? To make Daddy proud?"

Blaine didn't answer, he just stared straight ahead. Not at Professor Schuester, but at something beyond him. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Kurt began sucking in hot sharp breaths. A flash of lightning briefly lit up the clearing, illuminating the insanity in their professor's eyes, casting strange shadows across the planes of his face.

"Just think about. Think about all the times you've disappointed him. This could be your chance at redemption. Don't you remember, Blaine? All of the disappointments."

Kurt's hand was suddenly empty, as Blaine let go. His arm fell when the contact disappeared, clunking uselessly against his side. Blaine still wasn't saying anything, and refused to meet their professor's eyes. Schuester sighed, before finally reaching to his pocket and pulling out a wand and a vial.

"Remember, Blaine," he said.

The professor moved unbelievably fast. Kurt realized that they'd never seen the older man cast a spell, never seen him do any magic. But he moved as sharp as a snake, his elbow snaking out. His wand was by the side of Blaine's head before either of the boys' understood what was happening. He drew out a string of bright light. Kurt gasped and lunged forward.

"No! What are you!"

Schuester just shoved him aside, flicked his wrist, and stepped back. The tendrils of light were still spun around his wand, as he walked backwards a few steps.

"Let's take a look, Blaine," he said soothingly. His voice was rolling over them in soft, ocean waves. Kurt realized suddenly that this was a spell. . .it wasn't Magical Lyricism, but it was something like it. He moved forward like a dream, to a small pond. Professor Schuester dipped his wand into it, and it instantly lit up a strange blue green. Kurt watched greedily as small figures appeared in the depths of the water, faceless, ghostly figures walking across a crowded street. Professor Schuester made a beckoning motion with his hand.

"Come on, Blaine," he said softly, almost seductively. "Take a look. Remember."

When Blaine lowered his face into the water, Kurt mirrored him. There was a sick, roiling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was going on, something was not right, but at that moment, he just wanted to see. . .

Xxx

He is standing in the Great Hall, but it's different, somehow. He doesn't see the walls – they're just fading figures in the background. He can't see the students, either, but he knows they're there. A few faces jump out to him – Finn's familiar face, Headmaster Figgins, James Potter. . .

But mostly he just sees the Sorting Hat, sitting on its lone chair in the middle of the room. He watches as a short, proud looking boy walks forward. There's a broad smile on his face, and his caramel eyes are glittering. He sits down on the stool and puts on the Sorting Hat.

Suddenly Kurt isn't looking anymore, suddenly he doesn't just see the boy, but he is the boy. He's sitting on the stool. He's in the boy's head, and he's hearing the Sorting Hat's comments in his head.

"A family of Slytherins, all pure blood. But you don't belong there. You don't have half of your father's ambition, his pride. Perhaps Gryffindor would do, if you had an ounce of courage within you, but alas, no. Nor will Ravenclaw suit, with your below average intelligence. I suppose we'll place you in Hufflepuff, with the other rejects. . ."

No, Kurt thinks, no, this isn't right, this isn't how the Sorting Hat thinks, this isn't how it talks. It's kind, and thoughtful. . .it isn't

"Blaine. . ." he whispered.

Swirls and now he's on the Hogwarts Express. He watches as students file on, one by one taking their seats. And then he sees himself, or a younger version of himself. It's his 1L year, he realizes. He's clutching his books to his chest, looking around frantically for his brother, or one of his brothers' friends, or anyone to help him. He stares critically at his hair, pressed forward and parted on the side, a young look that he's glad that he's outgrown.

He watches as he meets Rachel, as she drags him into a room with her and begins chatting. He remembers how it had elt, to meet someone, and instantly despise her, while simultaneously realizing that this is him, that this girl is who he would be with a vagina. He watches all of this with a sick feeling in his stomach, because he remembers this on his own, he knows what happens next.

And sure enough, he walks in. Huge and hulking, a seventh year with a hideously styled Mohawk and bulging forearms. "Hey, fags," he says with a sneer. Kurt straightens up, and stares out the window. He's not out yet, nobody knows, and this is why. Rachel, however, turns to look at the seventh year.

"Excuse me," she says, her voice high-pitched and irritating. "I'm a girl, and Kurt here is a boy. What would make you use that word? Regardless, it's very offensive. I have two gay dads and. . ."

"Sorry," the seventh year cuts in. Rachel looks miffed at being interrupted. "I wasn't talking to you, JAP. This is all about homo explosion over there. Hey! Fag! I'm talking to you!"

Young Kurt is still staring out the window. Kurt stares at the back of his head. He can't see it from here, but he knows that the younger version of himself is fighting back tears, trying desperately not to let it show. Go away, Young Kurt is praying, just go away and leave me alone, just leave me alone.

"Hey, Puck," Finn says, appearing suddenly in the door. "Who are you talking – oh, hi Kurt!"

The seventh year snorts. "You know fairy boy?" he asks. Finn looks surprised, his eyes bugging out. Surprised and confused.

"Who. . .I don't. . .what. . ."

Young Kurt whips around at the sound of his brother's voice. He peers at him, his eyes begging, but Finn doesn't know what to do, because Finn never knows. Puck just grins and raised his wand, pointing it at Young Kurt.

"How do you think buttboy would look if his hair was as flaming as everything else?"

"Puck, I don't think. . ."

Finn doesn't finish the sentence, however, because a short flurry of curly black hair is suddenly in front of both of them. Blaine is older than the year before, and he's grown into his looks more, the thickness of his eyebrows no longer eating his face, and the curls better managed. He pushes the wand out of Puck's hand.

"Leave him alone," he says forcefully, crossing his arms across his chest. "You know that Hogwarts doesn't approve of bullying."

"Yeah?" Puck asks, leaning down so that they're at eye level. It looks ridiculous, and Kurt wonders once again how a second year Blaine, barely clearing five feet, was brave enough to take on a 6'2 seventh year. "Who's gonna stop me? You? What are you gonna do, Lamerson, go running to Daddy?"

Kurt remembers what happens next. Blaine just quirks one eyebrow, and tells Puck to get lost. It's simple, and it's effective, and then he'll wink at Kurt and Rachel, grab Finn's arm, and they'll leave. It's elegant and confident, and Kurt will fall in love in that moment.

But that's not what happens here. Blaine's eyes fill with tears, and his lower lip trembles.

No, Kurt thinks, no, this isn't how it happened, I remember, I remember. . .

Blaine whimpers, and Finn tugs on Puck's arm. "Come on," he says. "Leave them alone, Puck, it's not worth it."

The two of them walk away, and Blaine leaves a moment later, his shoulders slumped and quaking. He walks in the opposite direction of his best friend.

Kurt tries to sit up, tries to pull his head out of the Pensieve, because this is wrong, it's so wrong, these can't be Blaine's memories because he remembers this event, he remembers it, it's a central moment in his life and he knows he remembers it, and this is so, so wrong. . .

"Blaine. . .Blaine, please, this isn't right, you know this isn't right!"

It's Christmas break, and Blaine is sitting at a table in the Great Hall, peering at a letter in his hand. Kurt can tell that there are other students around, but he can't see them, can't differentiate their faces. He leans over Blaine's shoulder and reads the letter.

Dear Blaine, going on a trip for Christmas, won't be home, enjoy your holiday at Hogwarts! Mumsie and Father

The colors are shifting, and Kurt is suddenly inside the Hufflepuff common room He recognizes the warm cushions and bright fireplace from dropping Finn off. He sees Blaine, curled up before the fire, the letter still clutched in his right hand. This must be the Christmas of his fourth year, because that's the year that he started gelling his hair. Kurt is confused again. He knows that Blaine didn't go home for Christmas that year, knows that his parents were out of town, but he remembers walking downstairs in his father's home on Christmas Day. He always gets up early on Christmas, so that he can rewrap some of the most atrociously wrapped presents. Sometimes he adds ribbons, or prettily tied bows. But his third year, when he'd walked downstairs, he'd been surprised to hear voices. Finn was never awake this early – not even on Christmas – but it had definitely been Finn's voice. Except that there were two figures on the couch when Kurt arrived, one head bed-mussed and brown, the other darker in hue and carefully styled.

You weren't alone on Christmas, Kurt remembers. You weren't. . .Schuester took your memories, and he twisted them somehow. . .

"Blaine, you don't believe this, you can't. . .

It's the summer before fifth year, and Blaine is at his most beautiful. They're filled with worry as he rips open the envelope, and reads the words. Kurt wasn't there in this moment, he doesn't know if this memory is real or not, but he doesn't trust it, even as Blaine's eyes light up and he runs down the hallway.

"Father!" he calls, and his voice echoes down the cavernous halls that Kurt can't see. This memory is even more indistinct than the earlier ones, as though the mind can't remember or imagine what the house looked like. He's running, following after this Blaine, and then suddenly he isn't anymore. They're face to face with another man, an older, more distinguished version of Blaine, with straight hair and cold eyes.

"Father," Blaine says, slightly out of breath. "I got it!"

"Don't run in this house," Mr. Anderson says. Blaine nods a little, the smile drifting from his face.

"Sorry, Father," he says. "I just wanted to show you. I got the position. I'm a prefect."

Blaine's father reaches down and grabs the letter from his son's hand. He reads it, his face impassive. "It says that David Thompson is transferring, and cannot be the prefect." His father says. Blaine just looks confused. "So you're the second choice?" his father asks. He crumples the letter up in his fist, mirroring the way that his son's face crumples. "Anderson's are never second best."

As his father turns and walks away, one perfect, poetic tear falls from Blaine's face.

"No!"

xxx

Kurt gasps as he hurtles away from the Pensieve, crawling backwards on hands and knees. He's getting his pants dirty, and he'll probably have grass stains on his hand, but right now he doesn't care. What Professor Schuester is doing is so wrong, is so twisted. . .he'd trusted the teacher, and here he was, twisting memories that he had no right to even see.

Professor Schuester glanced over at him, but Blaine continued to kneel, motionless, staring into the Pensieve. Kurt takes a moment to collect his breath, before lunging forward. He grabs Blaine around the waist, and pulls him back, bringing his face out of the water. Blaine gasps, and begins sucking in air, his eyes closed tight. Kurt can't tell if the water on his face is from tears or just the water.

Schuester stood up, looking angrier than Kurt had ever seen him. "I like you, Kurt," he said, and his voice was almost regretful. "I do, really. But I need this wand, and Blaine is going to get it for me. I like you, but you need to stop getting in my way."

Kurt gulped, and glanced around frantically for his wand. He found it, finally, lying beside the pond. It must have fallen from his pocket when he'd launched himself backwards.

Schuester pointed his wand at Kurt's face.

"Petrificus Totalus."

A/N: Uh-oh. MINDFUCK GAMES! So, with Kurt out of the picture, will Schuester be able to manipulate Blaine? Methinks so. . .with only two chapters to go, it's the FINAL COUNTDOWN! Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and alters. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

COMING SOON: The elder wand! Bum bum bum. . .ultimate power! Also, torture, death, and Grawp. That's right. . .Grawp is making an appearance! I love me some Grawp. . .