Hello! New chapter coming out here fairly quick-fire for all you lovely people. I'm really getting into the my groove now and have been thoroughly enjoying were this story is heading. A lot of great things planned to come, hope you all enjoy!

As always, feedback, comments, etc are all really appreciated!

Thanks again,

-S.K.

Severus sat in a stunned silence. He was in Lucius's office within Malfoy Manor. Dark oaks, mixed with off-whites. Silver and gold that proclaimed with a puffed-out chest the status of the Malfoy family. He had received word the night prior that his close friend had important news to share with him, so naturally he was quick to visit him the very next day. But what he was here to discuss had not been what he expected. There had been no sign, no warning that the Dark Lord had returned. Otherwise, he would have long ago told Albus the horrible news.

"And you're certain it was him?" Even in his shock, Snape was a master at not letting others a peak behind the stoic guise of his narrowed eyes, and unmoving brow. His voice just as nasal, monotone, and indifferent as always.

"I am certain, Severus. Narcissa and I spoke directly to him. Well, as directly as possible. He is weakened still, broken. Using Quirrell as a host to keep his spirit from vanishing."

"Quirrell?" Snape's eye twitched, almost imperceptibly, but Lucius caught it. Snape didn't know about Quirrell. He didn't know the Dark Lord was in Hogwarts at this moment. He thought about hiding it, but that would do him no good. Snape needed to know it all. He needed to feel trusted, otherwise he would never trust any of them back and return to serving his Lord. "Quirinus Quirrell?" Snape asked, needing to confirm it. "He's a Death Eater? Since when?"

"Yes," Lucius confirmed. "I believe it a more recent occurrence, but I'm not certain. Regardless, he bears the mark. I'm not sure how much trust he's gained, but our Lord appears to be using him as some sort of.. Vessel for his spirit."

It all sounded like nonsense to the Potions Master. Not only was Voldemort back, but he had taken over a Hogwarts professor, infiltrated the veritable fortress of the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared, and was now planning on expanding whatever plans he had by securing two more positions among the staff for the Carrow siblings. If Snape had been sent this information by anyone else, he would have known it a jest. But Lucius was all too familiar with the Dark Lord, and they had been through far too much together, for him to joke about a topic this serious.

"You met recently, I presume?"

"Two nights ago."

"The same day we met after you dropped off your son? Why didn't you tell me then about the meeting?"

"He didn't send us a kindly worded invitation, Severus."

The Dark Mark. Snape didn't know about the meeting because the Dark Lord didn't want him to know. But now he clearly did, otherwise Lucius would never have dared speak to him about it. Perhaps his friend had vouched for him.

So that's what Lucius was here for, he thought. "I can't blame him for his paranoia, it's how he's always been. But you, Lucius? Do you not think me loyal anymore?"

He wanted to. Every bit of him wanted to fall into the delusion that his dear friend had not turned against the Dark Lord. But he couldn't afford to. That would only lead to both of their deaths. Lucius didn't think himself capable of fooling or distracting the Dark Lord. It wasn't easy, nor advised, but it was possible before. A being so singularly focused on their goals as Voldemort was left room to work with if you were cunning enough. Lucius and Snape had both benefited to great degree from that, though perhaps with differing motives. There was no doubt Snape was thinking to do the same now. But Severus had not seen the Dark Lord in his current state, spoken to him as he had. Lucius had been confounded by it since the night of the big meeting. The Dark Lord was different now. Physical predicament aside, the more important differences in him were deeper. It was the aura about him, the presence he gave. His very magical essence. It was no longer a putrid void of hate and derision. It was a pure, all-encompassing darkness. Impossibly, it reminded him of the presence he once had before he started the process of shredding his humanity in search of immortality. If somehow, it wasn't Lord Voldemort, but Tom Riddle that had returned, then there was no fooling him any longer.

"Severus, I am not here to entertain a battle of deceit. My friend, I know you no longer believe. I know that your heart no longer lies in the dark. But I am telling you, things have changed. Whatever the Dark Lord endured was more than just survival. I fear it wasn't just his body that was saved, but his mind. His true mind.."

Snape didn't comprehend immediately. He and Lucius had done some digging in the past. Unforgivable, but in Voldemort's maddened state, it had gone unnoticed. They were well aware of bits of the past buried deep behind the veil of secrecy the Dark Lord kept closely guarded. One of which was the identity of Tom Marvolo Riddle, descendant of the Gaunt family and rightful heir of Salazar Slytherin. His claim to Slytherin was well-known amid the dark, but the how of it all, the history, was not. As with all things Voldemort, it was accept and obey, or be eliminated. So to hear mention of the Dark Lord's true mind from Lucius himself, it dawned a grim expression on Snape, finally breaking through his stone exterior.

"That is not possible…"

"You will meet with him, Severus, and you will see. Then you will know what you must do. Because it isn't just you that he will come for, old friend." Snape couldn't remember the last time he had seen Lucius cry. Men like him did not. But he knew he would never forget the tears streaming down the blond man's face today. "He will come for me. He will come for Narcissa. Severus, I fear he will come for my boy…" Lucius's voice cracked at the mention of Draco, the argument he had left him on. Regret stinging in his proud chest. "Do not make me a fool for helping a friend. I implore you. Kneel before him, and let it be true."

In the few days since the accident, Hermione had managed to accomplish more in respect to her own well-being than perhaps in all the years since the death of her parents. She was dead set now on figuring what was different about her. Was it a gift? Was it a curse? She didn't really care. She just wanted to know. Knowing was half the battle after all.

In that effort, Professor Quirrell was a bastion of hope for her. He was, of course, busy with the many duties a professor had — even when the school was on a holiday break. Still, he had spared his evenings, and various small portions of his days to keeping in touch with her, setting up a plan of action as far as research was concerned to find out more about her powers. Quirrell and Hermione mainly handled the research itself, but Harry and Draco were useful in doing some light reading, and keeping things tidy and organized. Hermione sort of figured they were there more on moral support purposes than anything, but it was the thought that counted and was appreciated.

That was the biggest change in her life that alleviated much of her daily stress, a point highlighted by Quirrell was important for her while they worked on learning about and controlling her powers. It had been an emotional outbreak that sparked her loss of control, and it was best for now to avoid those moving forward. Quite a bit of that was seemingly directed more at Draco than Hermione herself. Now, neither Draco nor Harry were about to start treating her like some damsel in distress, that was the last thing she wanted. But it had meant that Draco was more often the cool leader she admired around her, rather than the bossy snob. She still wouldn't exactly describe him as kind, but she didn't need him to be. She liked Draco Malfoy when he wasn't trying to make himself out to be coolest kid in school. When he was just himself, Hermione was perfectly happy to be around him.

Harry, on the other hand, was unapologetically Harry. He seemed to be putting a bit more effort to check in on her — and perhaps they were becoming closer friends than they were before the break — but there wasn't much change in their relationship otherwise. He knew that she wouldn't want that. Normalcy after such a shocking event was best. He had already put it behind him, and he just hoped she would be able to as well. No apologies. People made mistakes and friends didn't hold grudges as far as he was concerned. Furthermore, mistakes out of someone's control were hardly mistakes at all. There was nothing to be sorry for. Instead, Harry focused on what they could do now for one another. He tried his best to help Hermione with the research she and Professor Quirrell were working on, but was quick to realize that he and Draco weren't particularly useful on that front. But the boys were there if and when needed. The rest of his time was split between the homework they had all received during the break — which Hermione had finished long ago and had helped Draco and Harry get ahead on. Aside from that, was Harry's own personal research of sorts.

The philosopher's stone. Harry, with Draco and Hermione, had gone about as far as they could get with the little information Harry and Ron had been able to dig up on Nicolas Flamel in the restricted section. They knew roughly the history on Flamel and what the stone's purpose and use was in terms of how Flamel had been using it. Harry figured that Voldemort was intent on using it not to prolong his life, but to regain his former power. Draco and Hermione were vaguely aware that he was looking into this because of Voldemort. In fact, Draco and Harry had seen Voldemort a few months back in the Forbidden Forest after having been separated from Hagrid, but Draco refused to believe that the vile creature they had seen was the Dark Lord.

Harry disagreed. He was certain it was Voldemort, he felt he had been just moments from death that night. That darkness, that evil, it could only be him. But Hermione had reassured him. Her words still echoed in his mind.

"Who's the one wizard Voldemort always feared? Dumbledore. As long as Dumbledore is around, Harry, you're safe. As long as Dumbledore is around, you can't be touched." There was truth to that, soothing wisdom that Hermione always seemed to share with him. But it wasn't fail safe by any means. Yes, the philosopher's stone was likely brought to Hogwarts in large part because of Dumbledore's presence. But what happened if he left? Did Dumbledore ever leave? He had sent Hagrid to pick up the stone, so perhaps he never left the campus. But what if? That was why he needed a plan. And the first thing was making sure he could even get to where the stone was. Whatever lay beyond the trap door guarded by Fluffy was a mystery. But Harry needed help. Ron wasn't enough. And if Ron wasn't there to help him, he needed others around that could. Other's who at the very least knew what he did.

"It's almost time, Hermione." Draco's voice was calm, if a bit short. He had spent most of his time since the accident with Hermione, Potter, or Both. Potter's presence he could just about stomach now. He still didn't particularly like the twit, but he had admit that the fool did get up to some interesting mischief. If he was going to be an insufferable Gryffindor, which he appeared eager to become, at least was doing something worth getting in on. Even if the purpose around his work was still vague. Draco knew it had something to do with the Dark Lord, and if his father wasn't going to let him learn more about Voldemort, than Draco was going to do some digging on his own.

"Already?" Hermione breathed out, fluttering her lashed open to the dimly lit common room and revealing a deep Amethyst glow within the irises of her eyes. The power within that stare was oddly alluring. Every time he saw it, Draco's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't sure if it was fear, desire, or something else, but it had an effect on him all the same. An effect that he was quick to forget as soon as her typical caramel gaze blinked a few times at him. Any sign of her power was always quick to hide away, as if it had only ever been a figment of the imagination. It was the slightly sore ribs he still had and the fact that she herself talked about it that kept him from believing he had imagined it all to begin with. Whatever this power was, Draco wasn't surprised any more that she had gone this far into the school year without other's catching on that she was different.

Hermione stood, stretching her body from having been sat for nearly an hour meditating. It was part of the training that Professor Quirrell had assigned her. An hours meditation in the morning, and an hours meditation at night. It served her in multiple ways. For one, she was able to use it to help calm and recenter herself. She had found that through meditation, she was learning how to expel the negative thoughts that had once plagued her mind. She felt more relaxed, more confident, and more clear of mind. More importantly, it was teaching her focus and self-control. Specifically, she was learning to center her attention on the magical energies within her. It was a technique of self-reflection Quirrell had learned and practiced in India on one of his many journeys. Whatever it was and wherever he had learned it, Hermione was relieved to have the professor there to teach her. In just a short few day of meditating, of letting the power free within her, she felt so much better. She hadn't realized that fearing the power and shunning it was akin to doing the same to her very self. It was a part of her as much as an arm or a leg was. Now, she enjoyed the feeling of letting it course through her, as if her witch magic and this other power were two birds flying freely within her spirit. Or more likely the same bird finally able to use both wings.

"We're actually five minutes late, but Potter is late himself most of the time, so it shouldn't matter." Draco had lost track of time as well, though not as much as he was letting on. He enjoyed being with her while she meditated. It was peaceful. He found he was able to concentrate on his own work and thoughts with her around, and she seemed to enjoy the company. Kind of odd, considering she was sitting with someone just to purposely ignore them, but he didn't mind. He found himself not minding a lot of things about Hermione recently. Enjoying, actually. He wasn't blind to his emotions. Draco was well aware that his feelings for her were growing. But, inevitably, she was muggle-born and he was a pure-blood. The holiday was coming to a close and things would have to return to normal soon. He'd likely not bully her as he did before. But he wouldn't stop others from doing what they wanted. He had a reputation to uphold and that was the most important thing. As his father had commanded, he would not become a disappointment. And special as she was, friends of her lower class were disappointments waiting to reveal themselves. No special power would likely change his father's mind.

"Late?! Draco, I asked you tell me 15 minutes early so I could grab a bite to eat! I'm famished…" Hermione pouted at him. Her big brown eyes gave him the cutest puppy dog stare she probably wasn't aware she was capable of. It tugged at his heart-strings in all the right ways, but he just flashed her a cheeky smirk instead. Perhaps they couldn't be friends, but he was happy to indulge himself just a little bit longer.

"I'm kidding, Granger. You're still too gullible. We've got ten minutes to get there. Plus, here. Just take this." Draco tossed a small wrapped package to her. It was a sandwich. Not just any sandwich, it was the best Hogsmeade had to offer. One of the farmers down there ran a little Deli booth in town. Just a few hours every couple of days, but the line to grab one was always around the street corner. They were enchanted to stay fresh for near enough a month at a time, so they had become just about another form of currency among the students since the deli opened a few years ago. Hermione had never had one, with first and second years not allowed to go to Hogsmeade.

"Is this… From the Deli? How did you even get this?" He could have bought it from another student, but it was break. Basically every Slytherin allowed to go to Hogsmeade was gone. "Wait, is this fresh?" Hermione squinted at him, bringing her small upturned nose down to the wrapper, not able to sniff it through the packaging, but smelling it anyway just in case it was that far spoiled.

"Of course not!" Draco said defensively, before clearing his throat and calming his voice. "It's… form Professor Snape. You know he's basically an uncle to me. He went into Hogsmeade today and just happened to bring one back for me." That was a lie, of course. Draco hadn't seen Snape all break. A hufflepuff third year, Cedric Diggory, had taken a particularly lucky set of gobstones off of Draco for the sandwich around lunch time that day. Draco had spent weeks perfecting his gobstone play to win them off of Neville not too long ago, all for naught now. A lesson learned. Next time, he'll just have Goyle steal them rather than put in all that effort. "I wasn't hungry. Just take it. You don't want to keep Potter waiting, right?"

Hermione looked down at the sandwich, then back to Draco. If it really wasn't trouble for him, she was hungry enough to let the worry go and just enjoy it. A few days ago she might have spent the next ten minutes complaining about how she didn't deserve it, and then they'd really be late. But now, it was fine to be treated every now and then. It was okay for good things to happen. It didn't automatically mean that someone was up to something. And Draco had proven that he wasn't always out to get her.

She nodded, smiling at him as she opened up the wrapper. It looked as if it had just been made a few minutes ago, a good sign. "Thank you," she said, taking a small bite of it and immediately exclaiming. "Mmm! Oh my… It's delicious!" She beamed, chipmunking the first bite as she spoke before excitedly going in for a second.

Draco stood and turned away from her, starting to make his way out of the common room. The blush, a heavy rose on his cheeks. "Come on! You can eat and walk!" He hollered to her, hearing the jumpy footsteps of the girl as she skipped towards him happily.

The air on the hidden terrace was a stark contrast to the comfortable mood Draco and Hermione had settled into walking side by side moments prior. It was heavy, sullen, and tense enough to cramp a muscle — volatile enough that any slip of the tongue could end badly.

"I've had it just about up to here with your badmouthing my uncle, Potter. Your vendetta against him is unfounded." In truth, Draco didn't know if Snape was a Death Eater. He knew his father was, or had been, officially. The only reason he knew his father was secretly working for a now returning Dark Lord was because he had eavesdropped on conversations he was certainly not meant to hear. Something he had already been severely punished for. Now the level of secrecy his father went through to keep him away from those conversations was beyond his ability to overcome.

"Unfounded? Malfoy, he cursed my broom and tried to kill me in plain view during a quidditch match! He's had it out for me all year long both in and out of his class, and he's made it abundantly clear that his grudge against me is very personal. Who else would be working with Voldemort if not him?!"

Draco's jaw dropped about a half an inch every time Harry said that name. It still brought chills down his spine, but both of his muggle-born companions didn't seem to understand the weight in that name. "Listen here you four-eyed twit!" Draco grabbed at Harry's robes near his collar, yanking him closer. Just as he did, Harry reach up to his head in pain, yelling loudly.

"Draco, stop! You're hurting him!" Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arms, glaring at him. Draco immediately let go, pulling away from Harry and innocently putting his Hands up as Hermione released him.

"I barely even touched him!"

"He's clearly still hurt from the accident! You can't just pull him like that!"

"No! It's not that…" Harry stood and rubbed at the spot on his forehead were they both knew his scar was. "It's this." He pointed at the lightning bolt mark in his head, parting his hair so they could see it. "Whenever danger is nearby, especially something related to Voldemort, it hurts. But I've only ever felt pain like this once before. That was when you and I met him in the forest, Draco. I'm telling you, It was him then, and it's him now."

Draco and Hermione locked eyes for a moment. They had been studying with Harry, researching, learning what he was learning about the philosopher's stone and the vast potential magic within it. The terrifying reality of what would happen if Voldemort got his hands on it. At least, what they believed would happen.

"Aah!" Harry hunched over again, grabbing his forehead. Hermione rushed to him, gently rubbing his back as the pain coursed through his body.

"Breath, Harry! I know it hurts, but just breath. Close your eyes, take as long as you need. In and out. Long deep breaths." Hermione instructed Harry gently, the sharp pain in his head feeling like his skull was going to split open, but her voice pierced through. He did as she instructed, focusing instead on the gentle circles she rubbed on his back and the heavy breaths he drew into shaking lungs, then out through his mouth. The pain lessened, significantly. It still ebbed, a dull throbbing that was a nuisance, but he could deal with.

"I don't really understand why his presence would cause you physical pain like that Harry, but remember. As long as Dumbledore is here, he cannot touch you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Hermione, that's it! The danger makes sense now! Listen to me," he said, gripping onto one her slim shoulders. "The day we talked about Hagrid's egg problem, I went to speak with Hagrid about who he got it from. I figured the more information I could give to Ron's brother Charlie, the better. But he said he couldn't remember. Just some man in a hood. But, he also said that he may have let it slip while drinking that he had a cerberus… a cerberus that you can put to sleep with a song."

Hermione wasn't quite sure where Harry was going with this, but she was beginning to piece it all together. "Do you think that person was Snape?"

"Possibly. Or someone working with him. Anyone that could have known that Hagrid is loose-lipped when he gets drunk."

"And if Dumbledore isn't here right now…" Draco finally chimed, beginning to realize himself the bigger picture.

Harry nodded. "Exactly. I don't see Voldemort anywhere around her, which means the only other thing that could make my scar hurt like this is that something bad relating to Voldemort is going to happen. If Dumbledore isn't here and Snape is taking this chance to go for the stone, we have to stop him!"

"But there's no point in going into a cerberus den if he is. We need to find out for sure if Dumbledore is here or not," Hermione suggested. "Professor Quirrell could help."

Harry turned to her, nodding this time to the girl. Then the pair turned to Draco. He was right. Snape was pretty much family to him. They couldn't ask him to take action against his uncle, but they wouldn't allow Draco to stop them either. But they needn't worry.

"Let's go," he said. Harry was taken aback by his words, but Hermione wasn't. She couldn't help the small smile forming on her lips. She could see that look in his eyes. She knew it well. He was sure. He would help them.

The waves crashing into the sandy shore of the secluded beach were on the wild side tonight. The smell of rain was thick and the wind was unrelenting, there was a storm brewing and the North Sea was feeling its effects. Regulus sat, comfortable and warm near a flame inside the mouth of a cave, just out of reach from where the rain could get him if and when it started dropping. He'd been sat there for long enough to know that no one was going to bother him here. Civilization, muggle or magic, was too far to find him, and even the wildlife didn't much feel the need to venture out in the coming storm.

Yet, there was one person who would make an appearance tonight. One person he was waiting for. As if like magic, as Regulus sat there thinking of what he would say when they first met on the beach, he saw a dark and tattered form pop out from the rolling waves and begin a tiring walk out of the salty water.

By the time the figure was half way up the beach, Regulus had grabbed a warm-looking dark coat in one hand and a fluffy beach towel with cute dog designs embroidered on it in the other. He strode down onto the white sand and met him half way, a wide grin on his face.

"You look a bit worse for wear, brother. Better days on the horizon, as they say. What do we think?" He asked, holding up the two items out to him. "A spot of warmth, or shall we dry you off first?" Regulus was quite clearly holding back a laugh. Sirius on the other hand, had not dropped his gaze from his brother since he had stepped onto the shore. He lifted the soaking shirt off his back and dropped it onto the ground. He stepped forward and snatched the coat out of his brother's hand and shoulder-checked him as he walked past, turning Regulus around, but not sitting him down as he had hoped.

"Hm, a bit doggish, but no worries." Regulus looked down at the shirt and then back at Sirius, noticing his elder brother starting to kick off his trousers. "Don't you think you should have done that before swimming here across the sea? Seems like it would drag you down a bit, no?"

"Shut up!" Sirius howled back.

Regulus shrugged, picking up the shirt and trousers along the way as he followed Sirius up to the cave. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty I suppose..."

Regulus strolled into the cave just as Sirius tossed the coat onto a nearby seat and morphed into his animagus form, a large black dog. "Please don't…" He pleaded, but it went unheard as Sirius shook his black fur free from most of the water on him, splashing most object nearby — including his brother — and morphing back soon after. "Hey! Watch the flames! I worked hard on that."

Sirius resumed his mean glare at Regulus, wrapping himself in the warm coat and sat down, scooting his seat closer to the flames. "You didn't. Those are magical flames cast on what appears to be still wet wood. You're not even burning the logs."

"Oop! Guilty!" He chuckled. Regulus tossed the wet clothes and the towel into a pile, pulling up another seat across from Sirius and plopping down. "Nothing gets past you, does it brother?"

"You don't call me that…" Sirius growled.

"Oh, come now. We're family—"

"We are not!" Sirius interrupted him, booming voice echoing in the cave, louder than it would have been otherwise.

"Calm down, Sirius. I am not here to fight." For the first time, Regulus wore a cold expression on his face. Finally, he wasn't playing, and his wand was out. "And you did not escape that hell to be put right back." The two locked eyes. Regulus would not stand down, and Sirius was too tired and weakened to make a move. "Or did you?"

"I did not," the animagus finally relented.

"Good boy…"

Sirius jumped to his feet, gritting his teeth as he snarled at him.

"I'm kidding! Sirius, please. I apologize, okay? No more jokes, I promise." Regulus put his hands up innocently. He was still being a pest, but he appeared ready to take things seriously for once. Sirius sat back down, pulling the coat just a bit tighter around him, eyes still on Regulus, but not threatening. "How are you?"

"How do you think I am, traitor?! Skip the chatter and tell me what you need," Sirius barked.

"Very well, but get this straight, 'Padfoot.' I was never the traitor. You are." Again there eyes locked together, battling gaze, until Sirius looked away and stared down into the fire, hands poking out from the coat as he warmed them near the dancing orange flames.

"Speak."

Regulus smirked. "If it were up to me, I would have never called you out from your doomed cell." Sirius spat in disgust as Regulus continued. "But there are more important matters at hand. Neither dark, nor light, but Black."

Sirius eyed him questioningly.

"What do you know of our sister Kalliope?" Regulus watched Sirius taken aback, stunned at the mere mention of her name. Then grew severe, wanting to withdraw from the conversation. There was a sadness to him that was immediate. A mix of emotions that Regulus had never seen his brother battle with, and clearly fail to defeat. "Who is she? Brother, please. Regardless of what you think of me, does a man not deserve to know his own sister?!"

"She was the most precious person…" His voice was distant, hoarse. Sirius looked up at Regulus, a tear streaking down his weather-worn cheek. "The most precious."