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Chapter 5. The Fourth

Walking through the dimly lit passage down in the Dungeons, Theodore was heading towards the common room of Slytherin, barely holding back the urge to growl in utter frustration and anger that swallowed him completely. And considering the current circumstances, he had every right in the world to be mad.

Until now, all through his not so long life, the boy had never felt as humiliated as he began to feel recently. There were many reasons to that, and although young Nott always loathed those who tried to blame fate, God or anything else for their misfortunes, he couldn't help but feel like that was exactly his case right now.

For starters, the only person he had considered worthy of his friendship ended up among those blood traitors from Gryffindor Theodore always was told to stay away from, and moreover, he seemed to enjoy their company...

But not only Malfoy turned out to be huge a disappointment.

His future wife... The rightful property of their family, as his father had said to him after they had signed that bloody contract... She defied him, and he couldn't help it in any way.

No, Daphne never went against him openly. In fact, she remained as submissive and seemingly kind and friendly to him as usual, but he still felt her duplicity with every fiber of his being.

She hated him, without a doubt, and he was sure that she simply waited patiently for an opportunity to stab him in the back. One could say that Theodore was being paranoid when it came to his betrothed, but he could counter such accusation with ease.

Logically, being a typical Slytherin—well, perhaps not the most typical one, but a Slytherin nonetheless—Daphne couldn't possibly be very fond both of Theodore himself and neither of the position their parents had put the two of them into. At least the young wizard, despite his pretentiously cheerful attitude regarding this situation whenever he spoke about it with somebody, had realized it fairly quickly how unfair and dramatic it actually was to both of them.

Still, Daphne had been behaving absolutely flawlessly so far. In fact, she seemed to be suspiciously perfect, at least in Nott's opinion. And it was slowly yet inevitably driving him crazy... Much to her amusement, it seemed. He could read it in her eyes whenever they looked at each other. She enjoyed his fear, probably far more than she enjoyed anything else in her miserable life nowadays.

Beside that, all in all his position in Slytherin was rather weak. That was certainly not something he had imagined back when he had been preparing for Hogwarts, especially with all the hopes his father had for him.

Unfortunately, leadership wasn't in Theodore's nature. Well, perhaps it was there to an extent, but if he had anything to say about it the boy always preferred to stay in shadows of more powerful people. Until now, his father had always been such figure in his life. And his position in his family was absolutely perfect in every aspect in the young wizard's opinion. Not only he had more than ample power to always get pretty much everything he wanted, but at the same time he also had little to no responsibilities whatsoever. What fool could possibly want something different?

And now, much to his displeasure, it seemed that he would have to lead his peers in his House throughout the next few years. There was simply no other viable option. Crabbe and Goyle were far too dumb to play this role; Zabini was a lazy bum, and the girls...

He grimaced and stopped, turning to the left and squinting slightly as he tried to find the right spot on the stone wall ahead of him in the weak light of multiple torches — the hidden entrance that led into their common room was somewhere near, but he still struggled whenever he had to find it alone.

The boy sighed tiredly, adjusting the pile of books he was holding with his left hand striding forward again as he finally spotted the small, barely notable crack on the surface of the wall.

Things sure hadn't been going accordingly up to this moment, and that's to say the least. He was unyielding enough to make an enemy out of Potter, as well as his bunch — as much as he and his family hated the Gryffindor boy and his brethren, Theodore realized that going against them was be the most unwise thing he could possibly do, perhaps even suicidal, when he thought about it. Not only Potters were exceptionally powerful in the ministry and Wizengamot, having the support of nearly all the major families and the unseen authority among them thanks to the story of The Boy Who Lived as well as his father's achievements, but also Harry Potter himself...

As cocky as he was, young Nott knew and could admit at least to himself that this boy was out of his league, frankly and literally. The small glimpses of immense power that radiated from him from time to time whenever Potter's hold over himself got weakened a bit were more than enough for Theodore to realize that neither he himself nor anybody else in their year could possibly match the Gryffindor, at least for now.

And the most demoralizing moment there was that Potter didn't even have to use his power and skill to protect himself. He had a lot of fans, and some of them were aggressive enough to do really dangerous and nasty things like the one that had happened to him shortly after that blasted Potions class three weeks ago when someone had ambushed him here in the Dungeons. Whoever the person was, he or she had broken his wand and had made him fall down the stairs, breaking two ribs beside getting a few other minor injures.

That incident had taught Nott that he shouldn't ever mess with Harry Potter. At least not anytime soon, not until he would gather an equally as strong support. And considering that he had most likely ruined all the chances to get to friendly terms with The Boy Who Lived, the only remaining option there was to try to stay as far away from him as possible, exactly like Daphne suggested whenever they crossed this topic.

Theodore gritted his teeth, calling out the password which made the heavy ancient wall move to the side, opening the entrance to their vast and gloomy common room.

Daphne... He had to come up with an idea what to do with her. Whether she was just a weakling and an idiot or she was actually plotting something against him, he would have to find a way to either subdue her completely and for good, or...

Or to get rid of her at some point. Permanently.

He smirked darkly, meeting the blue eyes of the girl that was sitting next to her friend Tracey Davis, writing some long essay — probably in Defense Against the Dark Arts as Snape was absolutely merciless when it came to homework, whether the students were from his House or not. Fortunately enough, Theodore was naturally talented in this subject, so he was the best among his House mates in this course.

Daphne smiled politely, lowering her eyes timidly which nearly made the boy take his new wand out and curse her right away.

No, he certainly had to come up with a plan. Otherwise he would end up at St Mungo's in no time for sure.

"Damn you, Harry! That was bloody brilliant! She didn't even see what hit her!" exclaimed Ron, slapping his friend on the shoulder cheerfully.

"Yeah, that was really cool. Especially the moment when she screamed like a banshee that she had spent two days on that research. This annoying bitch should know better than taking points from a member of her own House just because she dislikes Ron's brothers and is clearly biased," added Draco, smirking jovially.

"Well, you can't really blame her for that. Fred and George can be overly annoying sometimes, and our prefect is a downer with no sense of humour at all. Well, actually both of them are," the red haired added, rolling his eyes — clearly he was meaning his older brother Percy along with his female partner who seemed to have a strong grudge against Weasley twins.

"True that. But a prefect's position is just made for such people, so no wonder it's them and nobody else," said Draco, putting his hands into the pockets of his robe as they stopped near the turn that led to the moving stairs.

"How exactly did you do that, by the way?" asked Ron, glancing at Harry curiously.

"Nothing is impossible with magic," their friend shrugged the question off, smirking complacently and clearly not wanting to elaborate on the way he had made the fifth year's essay 'accidentally' fly straight into the fireplace back in their common room.

"Yeah, thanks, we know that, but still—"

"Oh, come on, Ron. Everyone must have their own secret tricks, you should know it better than anyone else seeing as you never tell anyone about your tactics in chess," said Draco who, unlike Ron, knew about the specifics of some of Harry's magical abilities, as well as was aware of the fact that his friend didn't like sharing this information with anybody, even with Malfoy himself.

"Fair enough," the red haired boy sighed, looking around. "So, what's the plan? Do we part here?"

"I suppose." Harry nodded, taking a short look at his watch. "Told you, I have a detention with Snape."

"Ow, lucky bastard. And here we are to spend the whole evening in the library. Boring," drawled the blond wizard, leaning against the stone railing of the stairs.

"At least you're not going to get cursed while you are there," the green eyed boy winked at his friend, lowering his foot onto the step. "See you later, guys."

"Yea, good luck, mate."

"Try to pull the same trick as we did last week!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry turned around, waving off to his friends and striding downstairs.

The trick Ron was referring to actually was exactly what The Boy Who Lived was counting on tonight. The seemingly invincible and always impassive Professor Snape had one weak spot all the three of them had figured out and were gladly abusing whenever they could ever since — teaching was his absolute passion. It took asking merely a few questions concerning the Dark Arts or anything related to them, and sometimes it made Severus Snape rapidly forgot about the whole purpose of detentions, instantly turning them into additional lessons for a smaller audience which was, despite being probably even worse than the detention itself for most students, much to the amusement of the Gryffindor friends who liked the subject quite a lot.
And it was especially useful since the head of their own House had no idea of how much did the three of them really enjoy Snape's classes, assuming that detentions with the Always So Grim And Strict Professor were the most harsh punishment possible for her students.

Thinking over a bunch of questions he was going to ask Snape during the following two hours, Harry nearly spaced out at some point, managing to stop next to the turn that led towards the Dungeons in the last second as he heard someones' quiet voices.

Coming close to the wall of the broad corridor he had been walking through, the boy moved slowly to peek around the corner as his hand slipped into the pocket of his robe reflexively.

Usually it wasn't in Harry's style at all to be sneaky and to try to overhear anything. He was naturally too straightforward and blunt for something like that and, frankly speaking, he rarely cared about anything that didn't concern his direct interests. Perhaps he was in a strange mood tonight, or it was just a whim — the boy wasn't sure, so he decided to simply follow his intuition.

He noticed Flint and Mulciber standing not too far away from his position. Evidently they were bullying someone... Again.

Young Potter sighed inwardly, shaking his head. These two Slytherins were the dread to all the first years in Hogwarts, except for him and his friends, of course. For some reason Harry hadn't realized yet, no Slytherin above the first year wanted to cross his road in any possible way.

The green eyes widened slightly in surprise as he recognized the person that was now shaking, leaning against the wall and mumbling something to the pair of older wizards, stuttering and speaking in a very low voice that made his words hard to distinguish. It was Neville Longbottom, the usually very quiet chubby boy with pale blond hair and soft blue eyes.
And next to him...

Right next to Neville stood Hermione Granger who seemed to be about to faint in utter horror.

"I—I told you to get—get away from her! She did nothing wrong! You two broke he rules!" yelped Neville, raising his hands in something vaguely reminiscent of a fighter's stance.

As much as Harry disliked Granger, on the other hand he knew the story of Neville's family very well. Albeit they'd had no chance to become friends earlier due to Harry's virtual isolation during his childhood, he always felt sympathy for this scampish boy who could very well have been The Boy Who Lived instead of him should things had gone a different way ten years ago.

"Oh? And what are you going to do about it, you little shit?" grunted Flint, to which his friend cackled nastily, adding, "Just make another noise, and I'll send you right to your parents. You'll make another vegetable to the collection, ha!" Before he could start laughing, Neville's fist smashed into his chin, making the teen gasp and step back, only to receive a few more clumsy, weak punches.

"You bastard! I bit my tongue because of you—!" Mulciber frowned, kicking Neville heavily into his stomach which sent the boy down onto the floor with a loud moan of pain coming from him as Hermione squealed quietly, closing her mouth with her palms.

It was the perfect time to intercept, Harry decided then.

"Hey, Mulciber!" The tall black haired teen turned around, wiping the blood off his chin and noticing Harry who was pointing his wand right at his chest.

"Huh...?"

"Impedimenta!" The spell hit Derek instantly, sending him down onto the cold stone floor right next to Neville. The sixteen years old wizard was far more proficient when it came to usage of magic than his friend Marcus Flint who, on the contrary, was well known to be on the level of a troll in nearly everything that was taught at Hogwarts, so it was out of the question for Harry whom to attack first.

"What the—!" Marcus looked down at his friend slowly before turning around as well, frowning at the small frame of the first year Gryffindor who was pointing his wand at him now. "What the heck are you doing here you midget? Get lost now if you don't wanna end up at Pomfrey's!"

"Oh? Well, I've been looking forward to this. Bring it on, what are you waiting for? Or perhaps harassing silly little girls is the extent of your might?"

"I—I'm not silly—!"

"Shut up, Granger. I wasn't talking to you," Harry didn't move his eyes from Flint who looked like he was about to outrage.

"Harry, Mulciber—!" blurted Neville huskily.

"Oh, right." With a short motion of his arm, Derek's wand flew out of his fingers that were about to grip it, ending up right in Harry's left hand.

"You little bastard...," groaned Mulciber, raising up from the floor and wiping dust off his mantle. "This is none of your business, Potter! She was meddling into our stuff, okay? And this little prick jumped in when we tried to reason with her!"

"Your stuff? Very interesting," said Harry, grinning and crossing his hands on his chest as he leaned against the wall on his shoulder. "I can't help but wonder what said stuff is, seeing as you are so angered by the fact that a girl interrupted the fun between the two of you."

"We—!"

"You—!"

"What is going on here?" The familiar cold voice echoed from the farthest end of the corridor, making everyone turn their hands towards the gloomy tall figure that was coming to them swiftly. "Mr. Potter, whose wands are you holding?"

"It's mine, Professor Snape! Potter attacked and disarmed me!" Derek pointed at the green eyed Gryffindor with his finger, to which the boy barely managed to suppress a sneer, struggling to remain silent.

"Is that true?" The black haired man looked at his ward shrewdly with a tiny note of skepticism in his obsidian dark eyes before giving a short glance to Harry. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that a first year has managed to defeat you? If that is true, then I am not sure from whom to take points this time, seeing as you and Mr. Flint are being an embarrassment to our House. Besides... What is that?" He narrowed his eyes, cocking his head slightly to look behind Flint's broad back, finally noticing Hermione who was trembling in fear with her eyes so wide that it might seem as if she was seeing a ghost, as well as Neville who was holding his waist and panting heavily.

"I—I am—"

"We are—"

"Ms. Granger... And Mr. Longbottom," Snape paused for a second, returning his gaze to the older students. "I see now. Fifty points from Slytherin and detentions with Mr. Filch, for both of you. Leave my sight now," he deadpanned.

"But my wand—!"

"You can have it back later tonight when you come to my office to get assigned for your detention, Mr. Mulciber. Consider that a part of your punishment." Dereck nodded reluctantly, and the two Slytherins retired quickly under the freezing gaze of the Head of their House.

"As for you," Snape turned to the three Gryffindors, raising his hand — Mucliber's wand jumped out of Harry's grip before the boy could react, making him gasp in surprise and awe as he raised his head to look at their teacher, but the man had already hidden the magical tool in the folds of his black mantle. "Proceed to my office now. All of you."

"Well, that's where I was heading to anyway," sighed Harry, making Snape give him a slightly surprised glance over the shoulder as they strode towards the Dungeons.

"Is that so? And to what do I owe such honour? Please, do not tell me that you have received another detention already," said the man sarcastically, although there was hardly any venom in his voice.

"Got it. I won't tell you, sir."

Hermione frowned but evidently decided not to say anything, to Harry's relief. He totally didn't want to hear her jabbering at the moment, especially since they were likely to lose a lot of points because of her this time... After they had already lost a ton of them because of him, of course. But that was a different story.

"You are impossible, Mr. Potter," Snape shook his head as they walked down the stairs that led to his lair. "And here I thought you were a bit more wise than you father when he was your age."

"Well, to be fair, Professor, being wise has little to do with being unfortunate."

"Unfortunate, huh?" They didn't see it as they followed the man behind his back, but his lips curled into a small sarcastic grin. "Well, if that is what you prefer to call it."

Harry sighed sadly, muttering,

"What else could you call it when your own mother is one of your teachers and is clearly biased whenever it comes to anything related to you?"

"Professor Potter is not biased! She's just—"

"Oh well, apparently you know her much better than I," said Harry snidely, interrupting the girl while Neville just listened to their conversation silently, frowning a little.

Snape sighed heavily, opening the door to the room that was surely one of the most feared among the students of Hogwarts.

"Come in," he made a welcoming gesture, and the three Gryffindors entered the office, the two of them looking around curiously with caution — unlike Harry, they had never been here before.

"Settle down, all of you," said Professor Snape, coming close to his own desk and sitting onto it, peering at his students searchingly and maintaining a short, slightly intimidating eye contact with each of them one by one.

"Well then. First of all, Ms. Granger. I am taking twenty points from you for your foolishness and naiveness. Evidently you were not taking my lessons very seriously, because otherwise you would know better than deliberately getting into a situation where you are completely outmatched, putting yourself and your fellow classmate in danger given that you are well aware of who Mr. Flint and Mr. Mulciber are." The girl blushed horribly, too afraid and ashamed to look at anyone present in the room.

"Mr. Longbottom. Whereas it was brave and noble of you to stand up for your hapless classmate, I find the fact that you decided to fight with your hands instead of trying to do something smart or at least casting a spell rather disappointing. I am not going to take any points from you, but I highly recommend you to train your magic and your spell work a lot more intensively. You are a wizard, not a muggle brawler." The boy nodded, looking away shamefully as well but smiling sheepishly at the same time.

"And finally Mr. Potter... Aside from the fact that I am most displeased to find out that I will have to spend more time in your company so soon, I would like to commend you for your skill and the tactical thinking. Defeating two fifth years' is quite a feat for someone as young as you. It also makes me feel a little relieved; at least one first year actually pays attention during my classes. Therefore I am giving twenty points to Gryffindor." The boy grinned, not believing his luck as he realized it quickly that, in fact, they haven't lost a single point in this situation unlike the Slytherins. And that was thanks to him, at once.

"Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Granger, you are dismissed. Ms. Granger, kindly help Mr. Longbottom on his way to the Hospital Wing if he needs any medical treatment.

"No—I mean, I'm fine, sir."

"Very well then. In either case, feel free to leave."

The two of them went out of the room quickly, and Harry who was looking greedily at the various tomes on the bookshelves around didn't notice the long, thoughtful stares each of them gave to him before getting out of Snape's Office.
The door finally closed, and the older wizard flicked his wand, making a few stacks of scrolls appear on the desk in front of his student.

"Sort these out. I want the job done in an hour, but you can leave earlier if you manage finish it faster."

"Got it, sir! Will do!"

But of course he wasn't going to waste his time on something as useless. It didn't take the boy more than ten minutes of reluctant paper work before he finally raised his head, coughing,

"Sir?"

Snape didn't look at him, keeping writing something down with his feather.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"May I ask a question?"

"You have already asked a question, but you may go for another one, yes."

Harry smiled.

"Well, you see, I've been thinking about the differences between similar spells. For instance, let's say the Impediment Jinx and a stunner. They work pretty similarly, aren't they? But why are the incantations and the movements are so different then?"

The Professor didn't reply right away, keeping silence for a few seconds before muttering,

"What do you think?"

Harry frowned. Of course, he partly expected such response as it was very much like Snape to respond this way, but it was still a bit frustrating to see that the teacher didn't exactly welcome his enthusiasm this time — probably it had something to do with how tired he appeared at the moment.

"Well, I venture to guess. Is it somehow related to the thing that you told us in our first lesson? Because one was created for the purpose of protection, and the other one is meant to be used to attack. They were also created by different people, and it is us humans who create the ways to command magic, so—"

"So historically, it happened purely due to the particular qualities of those who created these spells whilst the difference between the spells themselves is insignificant. That is a correct assumption."

"But if that's the case..." The boy stopped, which made Snape finally look at him questioningly, perhaps even a bit curiously. "If that's the case, then why do we even rely on spells all that much? Seeing as many people can command magic without their wand — for example, like you did to retrieve Mulciber's wand and—"

"And also like you did to disarm him, Mr. Potter, yes. That is an interesting question. But I am sure you can figure it out on your own." He lowered his eyes again, which nearly made Harry curse aloud.

But he wasn't ready to give up yet.

"Well, I've been taught to do this since forever, really. But dad told me that he had only acquired this ability not so long ago, already after my birth. Does it mean that there are other ways to learn is aside from controlling the childish accidental magic?"

"Yes, there are other ways," came the immediate reply with the tiniest hint of irritation in the voice.

"But what are these ways?" asked the boy impatiently, making his teacher sigh and put the feather aside. Harry didn't notice how it became truly important for him to find out the truth on this matter. It wasn't just him attempting to avoid his punishment anymore, he was more than genuinely interested.

"Why would you need to know? Aren't you already satisfied with the fact that you can do this unlike nearly every single peer of yours?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise and a bit of anger at the sudden question that sounded unexpectedly provoking and perhaps even a bit mocking.

"What...? What does this even have to do with anything?" he asked indignantly, completely missing the word 'nearly' in the last sentence of the Professor.

Snape winced a little as if he felt toothache seeing the sincere incomprehension and hurt in the so familiar green eyes of his student.

He couldn't help it, this boy resembled the eleven years old version of James Potter in too many ways, and Severus remembered too well how arrogant his rival used to be back when he was Harry's age.
But at the same time... James' son was like a fixed version of the man, probably thanks to Lily and to the education they gave the boy together. And despite all the conflicted feelings Severus had for this child and for his parents, he realized that it was, for many reasons, partly his responsibility at this point to help Harry Potter grow up into a decent person given all the hidden power the boy had in him, as well as the prophecy. Under these circumstances, there was absolutely no guarantee that he would end up becoming a man who had realized, admitted and fixed his flaws and mistakes like James... and Severus himself.

That's why he had to help it in every possible way, Snape realized.

Harry Potter was still just a child. He was like a blank list of parchment, and it was up to his surroundings what was to get written on it.

"Perhaps it does not. You must understand how important it is to control this power, Mr. Potter. It is not to be used against other students unless they threaten your life, which I doubt was the case today."

The boy snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Now you're starting to sound like my dad...," he mumbled, feeling a bit ashamed. He really hadn't had to rely on the wandless magic this time, but it just had come so naturally, as if he just moved an invisible limb of his... Quite like a few times before when he faced Nott.

"Your father is correct then, Mr. Potter. Considering who your foe is, you need to take things far more serious than you do. You clearly lack discipline a lot as of now."

Harry sighed again, looking away and blushing.

"Mom tells me the same, eh..."

Snapes' features softened a little as he crossed his hands on his chest, revealing the white sleeves of his shirt from under the neat black mantle.

"She is also correct. Your parents are very wise people, Mr. Potter. You should pay more attention to what they say to you. And even if your mother's attitude seems unfair to you, there is a good reason to it you simply haven't realized yet."

"I understand. I'm doing my best, sir," came the quiet reply as the boy stared at the surface of his desk shamefully.

"No, you are not. Otherwise we would not be having this conversation now as you would avoid receiving this detention."

The young wizard didn't reply at first, thinking over his words for a while.

"Well, I guess you have a point... Thank you, Professor. I will try harder from now on."

Severus nodded.

"Yes... Make sure you do. You must always remember that there are no good or evil wizards, Mr. Potter. Just like I always say to all my students, there are only those who can get a hold themselves and their magic and those who can't. It would be a big shame seeing you among the latter."

Harry frowned, finally raising his head to meet the cold black eyes.

"That's another thing I wanted to ask about. You say that there are no good or evil wizards... I understand that, well, partly. But what about the law? Isn't it safe to consider all the criminals evil?"

Severus sighed, gazing at the boy for a few seconds as if trying to decide whether he should tell the young wizard whatever was on his mind or not.
Then he opened his mouth, uttering quietly,

"There are many cases of people breaking the law for the greater good. I am the prime example."

The Boy Who Lived felt a little baffled at the confession. This was totally contradicting everything he had been taught since the day he was born. And it was also breaking his picture of the world, making everything far more complex in his eyes. He didn't like it.

"What do you mean, sir? Surely you are not a criminal, are you? I mean... You helped mom and dad to defeat Voldemort, didn't you?"

Snape's face didn't change one bit at the mention of his former master's name, but he winced slightly at the question itself, making another short pause before finally saying,

"That is true. However, I was also the one who had been working for Voldemort for years before it occurred. Like I said, technically I was a criminal. In reality, precisely this thing has provided me with the opportunity to save your life, the lives of your family, as well as many, many others. Lawful, criminal... These are just labels, Mr. Potter. Nothing in this world is absolute, and very few things in our lives truly matter. If you are interested in my advise... Always do what you feel is the right thing to do and never pay much attention to what others say or think about you. If you are truly important to them, they will stand by your side no matter what happens, even should you become thrice a criminal. Everyone else are just phony people who are not worthy of your time and effort." There was a strange hint of pain in his voice, as if he was referring to a specific person from his past as he said it.

Harry swallowed heavily, nodding slowly as he gazed at the professor as if he had just seen a ghost instead of the unusually voluble man.

"Very well then. You are dismissed for tonight, for the paperwork becomes meaningless seeing as you have learned your important lesson. Be sure to come prepared for our next class."

"Alright, sir. Good night."

The boy left the room, feeling his limbs getting numb at the swirl of thoughts that consumed him after the shocking revelation.

Severus Snape, the man whom his father called a hero, was also a Death Eater. A criminal. Someone who, without a doubt, had killed innocent people. How was this possible...? If they couldn't call criminals evil, then how could they even distinguish those who should be punished?

After all, it was impossible for everyone to be completely exceptional. If there was one Severus Snape who was a hero and a villain at the same time, then surely there were many, many other people similar to him. Then how were they supposed to deal with them? And more importantly, did it also mean that there was probably no completely innocent and good people at all? Turned out that everyone was evil to some extent. Were they even supposed to fight evil in this case...? To fight... Themselves?

Being completely consumed by these bothersome questions, Harry didn't notice how he reached the Gryffindor Tower, coming close to the portrait of the Fat Lady and entering the common room after calling out the password.

Draco and Ron haven't returned yet, it seemed. Since it was already pretty late in the evening, the room was full of people much to his vexation. The boy totally wasn't in the mood for a noisy company, so he decided to head to the bedroom right away — there were too many things on his mind at the moment, so he wanted to be left alone at least for a while.

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen. Just as he came close to the spiral staircase, he heard the soft, slightly faltering voice calling out his name,

"Um... Harry? Can I have a word with you... Please?"

Wincing in annoyance at the question, The Boy Who Lived turned around to meet the familiar blue eyes.

"What is it, Neville?"

The chubby boy looked around cautiously, making an inviting gesture for Harry to sit in the chair next to him, to which the black haired wizard nearly rolled his eyes but followed nonetheless.

"I'm listening," he said, sitting down and watching at his classmate impatiently.

"Uh...," he looked around again before saying timidly, "You see... I wanted to thank you for helping us out—I mean, what happened with those Slytherins..."

"You're welcome. Is that all?" He was about to get up, but then the unexpectedly loud and abrupt response came,

"No," Harry frowned, returning his eyes to Neville.

"Huh?"

"I—I also noticed that you, Ron and Draco are hanging out together. And study magic together, too. Seeing how easily you dealt with Mulciber and Flint, I—I wanted to ask you—maybe—may I join you guys?"

Now that was surprising. Finally the boy had spilled out what was the real reason to this conversation and now it made sense to young Potter.

Personally he had nothing against the idea of Neville joining their bunch. He was brave and had shown the guts to fight a fifth year — that was more than enough for Harry to respect the boy and feel sympathy for him even aside from his family story.

The question was what Draco and Ron would say. None of them seemed to be very fond of Longbottom... But at the same time, they never said anything bad about him either.

"Well...," he muttered slowly, feeling a bit awkward at the immense hope he was seeing in his classmate's eyes. "I suppose that can be arranged. But I must talk to them beforehand. Let's say... Meet us here at midnight, alright?"

Neville nodded, smiling brightly.

"Got it!"

"I'm going to find them now. They are supposed to be in the library at the moment. See you, mate."

"Yes... See you, Harry."

Neither of them noticed the pair of brown eyes watching them carefully from the couch near the fireplace.

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully, looking at Harry's back as he left the room.

"Woah... I mean, seriously? Blimey, mate! You should now expect the entire Slytherin tailing you wherever you go!"

"Yep. One doesn't simply kick Mulciber's arse without... Consequences," Malfoy scratched his thin, looking searchingly at Neville who avoided their eyes, staring at the floor.

"Well... It's not like I can help it. I guess I just have to be wary from now on," he replied simply.

"Still, that was awesome! But why did you decide to stand up for that bookworm? She's such a wet blanket," groaned Ron, glancing at the stair that led to girls' bedrooms.

"Uh... But she's our classmate, isn't she? I thought that was what we're supposed do... I mean, protecting our fellows no matter what."

Harry who was remaining quiet as they discussed what had happened earlier nodded in approval.

"It is. You did a great job. So what do you guys think? Impressive, innit?"

"It sure is," nodded Ron.

"Yeah. I wish I have witnessed the show myself," Draco smirked.

"So...," said Neville, looking at them sheepishly. "Can I join you guys? I mean, your company... Become a part of it."

"Sure, why not," Ron shrugged.

"I don't mind it either. Besides, this way we'll have more ways to watch each other's backs. The Slytherins are not going to leave it as it is after what you did," mused Draco.

Longbottom smiled weakly.

"I know. But that's something I'm supposed to be getting used to."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Harry frowned.

The shy boy sighed, muttering sheepishly,

"I—promise you won't be laughing."

"Promise!" The three of them said simultaneously.

Hesitating for a few seconds, Neville uttered so quietly that it nearly sounded like a whisper,

"I want to be come an Auror after Hogwarts."

There was a long pregnant pause. Nobody seemed to want to laugh, but each of the boys had conflicted thoughts on the matter as it was something they had been avoiding discussing for the last few weeks, but it was still always there ever since Harry had first mentioned it.

"So what? I'm going to become one as well," shrugged Harry indifferently, making Draco frown.

"Damn you...," groaned Ron, rolling his eyes. "Not this again..."

"Why not? I told you guys, you should all consider this. It's one of the most prestigious and interesting jobs out there, and besides, if we are in this together, we'll be able to help each other in many ways, not to mention that it's a lot of fun."

"Yeah, and it's also possibly the hardest profession. I don't feel like wasting all my free time on studying and digging through tons of books, mate. I'm not Granger," said Draco.

"Eh... Well, if you put it like this, Harry...," Ron scratched his nape thoughtfully, gazing at the ceiling of the room. "Some money wouldn't hurt me for sure. Besides, nobody in my family has become an Auror in ages. In fact, I don't remember if anybody ever has. That would make me somewhat unique, which I certainly wouldn't mind considering how many siblings I have."

"Well? Told you, this idea is brilliant. Imagine an Auror squad formed out of just the four of us. We'd become a legend!" Harry smirked, making Ron and Neville grin as well while Draco frowned a bit again, looking away. Harry could easily figure out what he was thinking about at the moment — the various spectrum of people starting from his father's shady friends and finishing with that dark wizard they had met in Knockturn Alley years ago — the old man named Xhul.

"Do you realize that it's gonna be hard as hell?" finally muttered the blond, still not looking at his friends.

Harry's brow cocked skeptically.

"Since when are you afraid of hardships, Malfoy?"

The boy blushed, glaring at the green eyed wizard angrily.

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Then what's the problem?"

Malfoy groaned, slapping his face with his palm and shaking his head in defeat.

"Fine. Alright. Screw it. I'm down. Let's all become Aurors."

"Hell yeah!" Harry and Ron exclaimed cheerfully.

Neville smiled happily, and even Draco couldn't hold back a grin.

At the moment, each of them felt that this was the beginning of a really great adventure.

Two chapters left for the prologue part. Next chapter: Hermione is finally going to make her move!

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