Interlude

A Sleepless Night

Harry was sure he was dreaming, but the dream was not something he would have wished on anyone. He had had a few similar to it the past few months; most of them he didn't remember and those he did he chose not to recall. They all ended the exact same way though; with Harry's scar hurting.

Normally, Harry wouldn't have been worried, his scar hurting was a regular enough occurrence after all. His opinion on the matter, however, had rapidly been changed after Rita Skeeter's article. He had only questioned his father briefly on the validity of the claim, his father's reaction told him everything he needed to know.

Flashback

Harry was in Dumbledore's office, standing beside his little sister. Ally had just been hugged by her mother and now it was Harry's turn. He welcomed the warm embrace of Lily Potter and couldn't help but feel an inner warmth at the fact that after so long he was being hugged by his mother. He was part of a family.

"Be good," she said, Harry could tell she was trying not to cry, he couldn't blame her either. He'd only gotten a few short days with his parents after fifteen years of separation. It was hardly fair.

"I'll see you at Christmas," he said, forcing a smile onto his lips.

Lily smiled at him warmly and kissed his cheek.

"See you at Christmas," she repeated back and made her way to the fireplace.

Harry's hand rose to his cheek and he smiled.

"Take care Harry," he was interrupted from his musings by James Potter, the hazel eyed man looked at him sincerely through horn rimmed glasses and smiled, "Any trouble and you just send an owl."

Harry realised that this would be his last chance before Christmas to ask his father about the article. It had been bothering him since its publication, but Harry hadn't been able to bring himself to utter the question. He didn't feel comfortable asking it in front of his mother either, there was something in her eyes that clearly said she didn't like to remember what happened the night he disappeared. He supposed he couldn't really blame her for that kind of reaction, he didn't like bringing it up either.

"Will do dad," he hugged his father, but paused when they drew back, looking up at his father questioningly, "Um dad, before you go…"

"Yes Harry?"

"That article Rita Skeeter wrote," he shifted a little uncomfortably, glad to see Ally was busy talking to Sirius, "Was it true? What she wrote about my scar?"

James Potter's whole demeanour seemed to drop for a moment, but then he blinked and put on one of the most serious faces Harry had yet to see on his father's face.

"It's a complicated story Harry," he looked pained, like he was conflicted over what to tell his son, he cast a cautious glance over at Lily, "But yes, it is from that night."

Harry looked at his father, suspicion suddenly clouding over him.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, not liking the almost guilty look that crossed his father's face, "Dad?"

James seemed to compose himself and shook his head firmly.

"Like I said," he reinstated softly, "Its complicated, but I promise you, I will tell you everything over the Christmas break. Can you wait?"

Harry bit the inside of his cheeks but nodded.

What was his father not telling him?

"Take care son," James hugged him and a few minutes later, his parents were gone and Harry was left with more questions than before.

End flashback

If his scar was a remnant of Voldemort's killing curse, then there had to be something to it. Cursed scars didn't pain for no reason; or at least, Harry didn't think they did. So, unlike countless times before, Harry was trying very hard not to blot this dream out, as had been his mind's way of dealing with it in the past. Not that it usually helped when he had the snake dream.

Ironically, Harry thought as he watched this particular dream, there was a rather large snake in this dream too, not as large as the giant creature in the tunnels of course, but it was quite impressively large for a reptile. At present he seemed to be looking through someone else's eyes, again not an oddity, but for some reason he felt chilled to the bone on this occasion.

He was looking at an extremely unpleasant face; the man before him wore a sneering, twisted smirk. He was currently nodding with what ever the person Harry was looking through had said, his yellow eyes looked both hungry and eager.

"I will speak with the others of my kind," the man was saying, "Though after the Ministry's treatment of us over the years, I'm sure there will be no question to swearing their loyalty to you, my Lord."

Harry suddenly felt incredibly pleased with what the yellow eyed man was saying.

"You have served me well, Greyback," Harry found himself saying, his voice was colder than ice and somehow, oddly familiar, "Achieve this treaty for me and I shall be most pleased."

"I will my Lord," Greyback bowed his head low, "I beg your patience whilst I search for the leaders."

"You have until Halloween," Harry said, he was mildly annoyed that the process could not be quicker, "I wish to make my…debut soon."

"The sooner the better, my Lord."

Harry smiled.

"Go now Greyback," he said off handishly, "Do my whim and you will be well rewarded."

"Thank you, my Lord," Greyback bowed once more and exited the room. Harry was left to himself; he felt the snake rub her head beneath his fingers and he gave the creature an affectionate stroke.

"Come Nagini," he said, his voice about a degree warmer when speaking with the serpent, "We have our own mattersss to attend to."

And to the real Harry's absolute and utter shock, the snake answered him back.

"Yesss Masster."

He suddenly felt the brilliant spark of happiness that entered the person he appeared to be possessing.

"Everything," he hissed, "Iss falling into place…"

Harry woke with a start, his scar hurting. He clutched his head and groaned, rolling over. He lay like that for a few minutes, but realising he wasn't getting back to sleep, reached over and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table. He placed them on his face and sat up in bed. It was really early, or maybe it was really late. The dorm room was still covered in darkness and his bunk mates were all still snoring away quite peacefully.

With a long suffering sigh, Harry rose from his bed and tip toed down to the Common Room, his head was still sore and he was quite sure nothing would lull him back to sleep now. His mind was working too fast for that.

One of the most unfortunate things about himself, Harry relented irritably as he made his way down the dorm stairs, were his sleeping patterns. He loved sleep, really he did. If he had his way he would sleep for as long as possible, but alas, the Fates deemed he would be born a terrible insomniac. Being raised in the orphanage with its curfews and early rising and then later living in homeless shelters, had made Harry into a rather light sleeper. That, and the cursed nightmares he seemed to be constantly plagued with as well as his scar hurting at the most inopportune moments, had made his nights restless and for the most part sleepless.

Tonight seemed to be one such night, he would go sit in the Common Room for an hour, hopefully calm his aching head and himself and then catch a short nap on the coach, waking early enough to return to his dorm room. That was the plan in any case.

What he didn't expect was the figure working by candle light in the corner, near the fire as he stepped into the Common Room.

"Hermione?" he whispered, loud enough to get the attention of the bushy headed girl. She looked up, her eyes were bleary and red, causing her to blink several times before she recognised him.

"Harry?" she said, her voice was a little sleepy as she clearly struggled to keep a wake, "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry said, raising an eyebrow, "What are you doing?"

"Potion's essay," Hermione yawned, "So funny, I think this is the first time I've left something to the last minute. Don't know what I was thinking…"

"Potion's essay? But I thought we had already…" Harry glanced at the title and shook his head, "Hermione, you helped Ron and me research for this last week, remember? You had already finished it, you showed me yourself!"

Hermione seemed to go red in the face and looked away. Harry thought he heard her mutter, "I knew it!"

"Hermione?"

"I suppose I misplaced it," she said quickly with a small sigh and smiled at Harry, "Silly me, don't think I've been this scatty since Third Year."

He eyed her suspiciously, but decided to change the subject.

"Third Year?" Harry looked thoughtful, "You know, I haven't heard about yours and Ron's time here at Hogwarts. What was Third Year like?"

"Busy," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "Very busy. We had all decided on our chosen subjects and well, I might have gone a little over board."

"Over board?" Harry chuckled, "How over board can you get with picking subjects?"

"I took all of them."

"All of them?" Harry was only mildly surprised, this was Hermione after all, "How could you have managed that?"

"I didn't," she said matter-of-factly, "I ran around like a lunatic, struggled to finish my homework and tired myself out completely. At the end of the year I dropped a few subjects and things eased up a little bit. Ron was paying attention to Quidditch, mostly. It was the old Keeper's final year on the team and I suppose Wood, the Keeper that is, inspired him. He started practicing in his free time, hardly saw him around the Common Room unless it was for homework or it was too late to practice outside."

Harry was confused. The Quidditch try outs had been held only a couple of weeks back, Ron had only jus been picked as Keeper, surely he would have already been on the team before now.

"Ron didn't mention being on the team before this year-" Harry began.

"That's because he wasn't," she gave Harry a knowing smile, "Not properly anyway. Fourth Year, Quidditch was cancelled and in Fifth he was injured in the beginning of the season. Could only play as a reserve, but he did do exceedingly well in one of the final matches so its little wonder he made it in this year."

There was a slightly guilty look in her eyes and Harry had to suppress the urge to laugh; the try outs for Keeper had been rather interesting. Especially the part where Ron's only opponent, Cormac McLaggon, had dived in the complete opposite direction of the Quaffle, making Ron win the spot. He had seen Remus use a confundous charm on Sirius once, as a joke of sorts and Harry was quite sure that their resident bright spark had done the same for Ron Weasley.

"I'm glad he did, he's a great flyer," Harry agreed, putting his suspicions aside, "Why was Quidditch cancelled in your Fourth Year?"

"The TriWizard Tournament," at Harry's confused look she elaborated, "It's a big competition held between the three major European schools. Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons."

This fact finders statement held with it something Harry had not even considered, though he guessed that if there were wizards were all over the world it had to be.

"There are other schools?"

Hermione laughed.

"Yes, there are schools all over the world, some larger than others," she looked thoughtfully, "Hogwarts is the largest in Britain, though I've heard there is a much smaller one in Ireland. Did you know, one of the newest schools in the world was created about four hundred years ago by Dutch and British wizards in South Africa?"

"Wizarding colonization, huh?" Harry smirked, "I suppose that's what the Europeans are best known for."

"Yes-" she looked at him sharply, "Wait a moment, why did you say you were up again?"

Harry shrugged

"I didn't," he said evasively.

"Harry!" she whined.

"I had a bad dream," Harry unconsciously touched his scar.

"Bad enough to rob you of your beauty sleep?" Hermione gave him a playful smirk and yawned, "Must have been some dream."

Harry lowered himself into one of the arm chairs, his eyes concentrating on the flickering of the dying fire and he shrugged.

"Not terrible," he admitted, "Just…strange."

"How so?"

"It was like I was…someone else…." he shook his head, "I'm sure it was nothing. Its not like I haven't had them before-"

"You keep rubbing your scar," Hermione said suddenly, her eyes narrowing. She rose from her seat and came to sit beside Harry, looking at him worriedly, "Harry, is something wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, "Just a headache."

"Does your scar usually hurt you?"

Harry looked at her in surprise. He supposed if anyone in the Gryffindor Tower was going to notice that his stupid scar pained him from time to time, it was going to be Hermione Granger. He had learned quickly that not much got passed the bushy haired prefect.

"It's nothing," he reiterated firmly.

"Harry-" she began.

"What 'r you guys doin' up?" they both heard the familiar, albeit sleepy voice of Ron Weasley. The red head stepped down off the staircase in his striped blue pyjamas and slippers. Hermione went red in the face and looked away.

"Just finishing some work off," she said cheerily, gesturing to her essay.

Ron frowned and walked over to the table. Hermione immediately leapt to her feet and attempted to intercept him, only to tumble clumsily over a foot rest.

"Its nothing really," she was saying quickly, "You know me, I just wanted to finish it early and-"

"You finish everything early 'Mione," Harry was surprised to see the irritable look in Ron's eyes, it appeared this wasn't the first occurrence of Hermione working into the wee hours of the morning doing work she should have finished.

"Well, I forgot," she seemed quite desperate to deter attention from her work.

"You don't forget," Ron said and he crossed his arms, now not bothering to look at the essay as though he knew exactly what was going on, "It's those ruddy Ravenclaws again, isn't it? They were pestering you earlier, weren't they?"

"I-" Hermione sighed and nodded, her cheeks would have made a tomato proud.

"Am I missing something here?" Harry asked, clearly confused.

"It's nothing!" Hermione said, whilst Ron said at exactly the same time, "I'll explain later."

"Don't you dare Weasley!"

"Its nothing to be embarrassed about, Granger."

Harry strongly resisted the urge to scratch his head.

"Harry was just telling me about his scar hurting," Hermione said suddenly, clearly trying to deflect the attention off of herself. This of course took Harry by surprise as well as Ron. The youngest Weasley male looked confused for a moment.

"What scar-oh right that one," his eyes flicked to Harry's forehead, "Is that all?"

"What do you mean 'is that all'?" Hermione asked, "it's a cursed scar, it could mean something."

"Uh," Harry coughed, "Guys?"

"Like what?" Ron continued, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

"Well I don't know," Hermione retorted, "But these things always happen for a reason!"

"Guys?"

"You're just deflecting off the point that those stinking Ravenclaws got you again!"

"They did not get me!" Hermione shrilled.

"Oi!" Harry finally barked and was almost relieved to see his two friends turn to him, both looking a little sheepish at the fact.

"Sorry Harry," Hermione muttered, "But it really is important, I mean, what if there's something wrong with your scar? Shouldn't you tell Madam Pomfrey at least? Its hurt before, hasn't it?"

Harry remained silent, she was right of course and there may well be something wrong. It was a cursed scar and who was he to say that there wasn't still some dark magic left in it that made hurt every now and then. That didn't exactly explain the dreams though. He wondered who the men he had seen talking to were and why he was seeing it all through the eyes of someone else. Years of being on his own had limited his ability to confide in others, but the looks Hermione and Ron were giving him screamed worry and that surprised Harry. He'd had very few instances of friendships in his life, this in fact was the closest he'd gotten, but he found himself trusting them more and more every day. With one last deep breath, he let go of a little bit of his old self, determined to try and be open with his new friends.

"Yeah, it has," he said softly, swallowing hard to continue, "Since I was twelve."

"Did you tell anyone?" Hermione asked, "Professor Lupin or Mister Black maybe, your parents?"

"I wouldn't want to worry them," Harry put on a smile, "Its not like its life threatening or anything, it's just a headache."

"But its dark magic that made that scar," Ron shrugged, "Look Harry, I'm not going to drag you all the way to the Hospital Wing, but maybe you should consider getting it checked out. I could write my brother Bill if you like, he's a curse breaker, maybe he knows something about it."

"Please don't worry about it," Harry begged, "If it happens again, I'll tell someone, okay?"

Hermione didn't look convinced, but Ron merely shrugged, earning an annoyed glance from her. Had she not looked so downright serious, Harry would probably have laughed.

"So what did the Ravenclaws do to Hermione?" he asked.

"Nothing!" she protested.

"Confunded her," Ron responded simply.

"They what?" Harry was genuinely shocked, how had Hermione of all people managed to get herself confunded, "How did that happen?"

"It hasn't since Second Year," Ron carried on, ignoring Hermione's protests, "They did it once or twice and then one time again in Fourth Year. Usually she's good at deflecting it, but obviously not tonight."

He looked pointedly at Hermione.

"Oh shut up," she bristled, looking away as her cheeks turned scarlet, "They're just a bunch of bitter sots, that's all."

"So you let them Confund you?"

"Of course not!" Hermione really turned red now and she glared at Ron, "I assumed, wrongly I admit, that they had grown up past these childish games."

"Ravenclaws are smart," Ron said dryly, "That doesn't mean they're mature."

"And you are?" Hermione scoffed, she rose from her position, "It wont happen again, I assure you."

With that, she gave a great huff and hurried off to bed. Harry and Ron remained in the Common Room, both of them were fighting amused smiles.

"So they make her think she's forgotten to do her homework?" Harry shook his head, "That's a bit extreme."

"What can I say, there's a group of them lead by a really competitive cow by the name of Cassandra Lynch," Ron gave a knowing smirk, "They're all going to be sitting in detention tomorrow though."

He began to lead the way towards the boy's dorm when Harry stopped him, Ron cast an inquisitive glance back at him.

"Ron," Harry asked, "Have you ever heard the name Greyback before?"

Ron froze and nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes," he said, "Where have you?"

Harry remained silent. Ron's look was all he needed to know that the man in his dream did indeed exist. Why he was dreaming about someone his friend obviously had a revulsion to was beyond Harry, but he had a bad d feeling that he would need to know the reply.

"Harry?"

"In my dream," Harry finished, he looked at Ron seriously, "Its someone bad, isn't it?"

"A werewolf," Ron swallowed hard before continuing, "He takes particular pleasure in attacking children. He was in Azkaban until a few weeks ago. The Ministry is trying to keep it hushed, but well…"

Ron gave noncommittal shrug and Harry guessed that the only reason Ron knew about it was because his father worked in the Ministry. Arthur Weasley seemed to be involved in more than finding wizards misusing muggle artefacts.

"Why are you dreaming of him Harry?"

"I don't know," Harry said, he took a deep breath, "You mind keeping this under wraps until I figure it out."

Ron seemed to hesitate a moment, but Harry must have conveyed his need for secrecy well because he finally had the Weasley boy nodding. With a relieved, albeit worried smile, the two made their way back to bed and Harry tried very hard not to think about what his dream could possibly have meant.

Draco stared at his father's most recent letter and sighed. His House mates had long since departed for bed and he was still in the Slytherin Common room, unable to sleep. He idly looked around him, from the cool stone walls to the various green and silver décor and ominous snake figures littering the room, he found he was secretly glad Nick had been sorted into Gryffindor. His brother had never been a fan of cool places, his colourful personality was testament to that. He smiled as he recalled his brother in his infancy and the funny hair colours he would come up with. First blonde, like his father and brother, then he went black and a day later his hair was a cherry red colour, the same as their mother's brightest lipstick. It had been fun, watching his little brother discover the colours of the rainbow. Draco had been a small boy himself and had revelled in watching him. A little jealous sometimes of the boy's extraordinary gift, but happy none the less.

It had been a much simpler time.

Draco frowned and looked down at the letter again. He had suspected his father was up to his old Death Eater ways and under any other circumstance Draco agreed with his father.

Mudbloods were a problem.

He had been brought up with that firmly drilled into his head, purebloods were the only true wizards and muggle borns needed to learn their place. The idea had disgusted Nick, especially after he had somehow ended up meeting the only other metamorph in the family.

Nymphadora Tonks.

Draco had no contact with said cousin, but a chance meeting with her when Nick was nine had severed many of the beliefs their father had so increasingly instilled in them. Her father was a muggle born of course and she had not taken kindly when Nick had told her quite matter of factly that muggle borns were not real wizards.

Granted, Draco remembered with a smirk as their cousin's face had gone redder than a Gryffindor flag, little Nick didn't know any better at the time.

Boy, did she set him straight.

Draco had listened with a rather bored demeanour, preferring to let her finish her rant than retort, that wouldn't have been very Slytherin like at all. He didn't realise, of course, not at that time, that her words were having a most adverse effect of Nick. Being the small boy that he was, he had immediately become overcome with guilt and had, to Draco's own horror, apologised to Nymphadora for his words. When Draco had tried to shut the boy up, drag him away, anything really, he had fought against his brother and said as frankly as anything that Nymphadora was right, that their father was wrong and that he wanted to be just like her.

Draco was more confused than Nick probably was at that point.

He gave a chuckle at the memory, if there was anything his brother could do right, it was set his mind on something and go through with it. Making as much noise as possible whilst he did so.

How very Gryffindor.

Which was exactly why Draco had said in his letter to father that Nick was 'exactly where he belonged,' Nick could explain to their parents that where he belonged was Gryffindor. Draco definitely did not see the point in being the bearer of such bad news.

It had been amusing at first, but his father's most recent letter…

Things were going back to how they were before Draco was even born, he sighed, looking down at the letter again and closing his eyes in frustration. Nick just had to pick the most inopportune moment to not only be sorted into Gryffindor, though that could be dealt with, but he had also somehow managed to become friends with a Potter.

Allison Potter, the very daughter of the man who was now Head Auror and as insufferable, if Draco's father was to be believed, as the most pompous of Gryffindors. He and Black both.

Sirius Black was another family member Draco knew nothing of, his mother's cousin of all things. He had ended up being scorned by his entire family for his affiliations with Potter and those like him. Draco was going to be damned if he allowed the same to happen to Nick.

Bloody Harry Potter just had to show up, he just had to save his sister on the train, resulting in his father turning up empty handed. Draco might mildly respect the fact that Potter Jr. had stuck his neck out for his family, but that by no means meant that he liked the ingrate. He and his sister were corrupting his little brother.

Draco had his family to protect after all, it wasn't the simple matter of who was in power, but in what position you were in when it happened. His father might be one for blood purity, but Draco knew that in a changing world it was good to have ones options open. He had his mother and brother to think about after all, whatever his father was dragging them into had best provide profitable results for the Malfoy family, or else it would only end in disaster.

There were reasons Draco wasn't told everything, probably owing to Dumbledore being in such close vicinity, the rest he had guessed. His father's sudden erratic behaviour over the summer, his request that he and Nick be seated as far to the front of the train as possible and his sudden grand ideas that the Ministry was going to fall.

Well, it only added to one thing.

Either the Dark Lord had returned somehow, or someone just as powerful had taken his place; either way, it didn't bode well and only hinted at the beginnings of a second wizarding war.

And to be quite frank; Draco was scared.

Lucius Malfoy had been Draco's age when he had joined ranks with the Dark Lord, he had been barely older than that when he had formally taken the mark. It was something Draco hoped he would never have to do if the time came, play servant to some wizard because he was more powerful. He had been raised to lead a family, be lord of an estate; he wasn't one to give into servitude easily.

Mudbloods and purity could be damned, he crunched the letter up in his fists and threw it into the fire; he didn't want to fight in a war.

As he watched the page burn, the very last line of the letter came to him with perfect and terrifying clarity.

It will happen soon.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"James," Lily moaned softly, "Come to bed."

James Potter paused and looked up with a tired smile at his sleepy wife. She stood at the door to his office with a white gown wrapped around her and her deep red hair mussed up and hanging loose. Green eyes stared at him with both annoyance and concern as he slaved over the last of his paper work.

"I'll be along in a minute," he said, stifling a yawn, "Just two more pages."

"You're already dead on you feet," Lily tutted, she walked over to behind his seat and gently started to massage his shoulders. James have a grateful groan and patted her left hand affectionately. His wife smiled and leaned in to beside his ear, whispering sweetly, "Come on Mr. Potter, its bed time."

She stopped the circular motions she had been making with her thumbs over James' sore neck and shoulders, this elicited a grunt of protest from her over worked husband and Lily smirked. She reached down and took one of his hands in her own, pulling him until he rose from the desk where he had been working.

"Well," he said tiredly, "When Mrs. Potter commands me so nicely I must obey."

The Mrs. Potter in question smiled and quietly lead her husband toward their bedroom, her hand holding him tightly all the time. James for one was grateful for his wife, she had always been his angel and dearest heart. He smiled softly as she lead him to bed.

They ext to each other, the lights off within moments; her head on his chest and his arm around her waist. He breathed in deeply the sweet scent of his wife's body creams and smiled as he felt her drift off to sleep.

He didn't follow immediately though, there was something on his mind that had been troubling him for a while now. Something Harry had said the last time they had met.

When I broke out of the orphanage.

James had told quite a few lies in his lifetime; to avoid getting into trouble at school and as an Auror he had listened to twice as many in interrogation rooms. He knew when someone was lying to him and he had the feeling right then and there that his son was when he had tried to cover up that statement.

He hadn't pushed it then, Harry had only known them a few days after all and they had had to leave very soon after arriving at Hogwarts. It wasn't the ideal time to interrogate his son and James had been reluctant to do so. He didn't know Harry, didn't know what kind of life he had lead over the years. His only clue was Petunia Dursley, not that she would help much, and Arabella Figg.

Maybe James should drop in on her and find out what was going on. Harry's foster parents had died, they had no reason to believe that it wasn't true, but was there more than the Notice-Me-Not charm that had kept Harry from just being transferred to a new foster home? There were just things that didn't add up.

He had made a promise, both to Harry and himself that he would tell Harry about everything surrounding that scar. That meant he was going to tell him about the Prophecy too, something he didn't think Lily would agree with. There was something about the Death Eaters attacking and Greyback's escape just prior that riled him up. Something told him deep down that he needed to be honest with Harry now of all times, even if his son wasn't ready to do so with him. But then again, how could he expect him to if he didn't take the first step?

He felt Lily stir a little in her sleep and only pulled her in tighter, a protective feeling taking over him. The attack of the Death Eaters on the train was still bothering him. It had been clear that they had been after Ally. But the question was, why?

Sure, she was the Head Auror's daughter, but that was only a recent appointment. The last Head Auror had been around since before James joined and had captured more Death Eaters than James could ever imagine seeing. So the chances of her being attacked just because he was the Head Auror was not quite feasible. Possible maybe, but certainly unlikely. They wanted her for some reason and they knew that the Hogwarts Express would be the perfect place to grab her. A deeper reason that James was angry he couldn't figure out.

James liked puzzles, he liked pranks and jokes, he liked making people confused, but he didn't like it when the tables were turned on him and turned on him they were. There were two puzzles here he couldn't quite figure out; one for Harry and the other for Ally. At present the Ally puzzle seemed more serious, but for some reason, he couldn't let go of the Harry puzzle.

It had been troubling him for years.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

There is a time skip between chapters 10 and 11, this pretty much is just to soften the transition a little.

Enjoy.

~Southern Hearts~