Authors' Note:

Hullo peeps, how have you been?

First of all, sorry it took us three months to update but we've both been very busy over Christmas, so you'll have to forgive us. We hope the next chapter won't be as long to come about, even though one of us is trying to deal with depression right now, so inspiration isn't as easy to spike as it used to be.

We've been looking forward to writing and sharing this chapter with you, it was very fun and exciting to work on! We sincerely hope you like it as much as we do.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

Betas: Witchmeister and thepumat, as usual: you rock!

Chapter 4

The paintings weren't speaking with him anymore. He could see their gazes following him as he was strolling down the hallways, searching for some evidence of the strangers' presence, but they were staying deadly silent for the most part. They were disturbed. He could see it in the way the characters of each one were jumping from one picture to another when they thought he wasn't watching, in the way they kept on whispering unintelligible words.

He went back to his office to seek advice from the previous Headmasters' portraits, but they were either asleep or absent from their frames. So, he proceeded to pace in front of his desk instead, trying to think logically. If the strangers wanted to harm the students, then surely they would have done so already instead of just hiding, since they were already in the castle. However, it still doesn't explain how they could have appeared out of thin air in the middle of Hogwarts' domain.

The wards were supposed to prevent anyone but him—as their holder—from doing so; at least, that's what he'd been told by Professor Dippet long ago. Hogwarts' grimoire seemed to be on the same page, so to speak. The only possible way for someone to go through protections as old as they were would be to have a deep understanding of those in particular and a great power. As far as he knew, only the Headmaster carried such knowledge and as of late, few wizards or witches held such power in the known world.

But that wasn't the only question left without an answer. For sure, he hadn't the slightest clue as to how they had been to this day able to literally hide in plain sight, so surely they must be immensely skilled in their magical abilities. The problem was, he hadn't a clue about their whereabouts, and the castle wasn't helping him in any way either. Somehow, he felt like not only the portraits weren't telling him, but the ghosts too. That outburst of magic had seemed to startle them, and they hadn't been acting the same since. What was really going on? He couldn't keep protecting the students in the castle if the danger was coming from Merlin knew where inside!

Although, between that and the Senior Undersecretary roaming the very halls of Hogwarts, he felt more aware of its displeasure day by day. He never really understood the link that bound the building to himself, despite spending fifty years or so to study the occurrence. But such magic always seemed to escape his comprehension.

Albus closed his eyes, opening his mind to the vast and powerful construction that was his school. He saw every room of every floor flash before his shut lids. The castle showed him the students, in class where they belonged, the young Malfoy grumpily sat with a chopping knife in hand, utterly destroying his cabbage. He vaguely heard the murmurs of some paintings and ghosts, seemingly worried, and possibly aware of the situation. In his mind, he went through some of the secret passages and into the hidden rooms he knew of, but there was no sign of the men he was looking for.

He backtracked into his office, rubbing his temples against a forming headache, anticipating a knock.

Faint footsteps came upon the entrance, but the knock didn't strike as he'd expected. The door banged against the wall, blowing the dust from the numerous paintings and strange artefacts piled up against his office walls.

"Poppy…" he started, but he was immediately interrupted.

"Oh, for the love of Morgana, do not 'Poppy' me, Albus! I can't stand it right now. I'm only here to get rid of the belongings you asked me to look at! I must say that I'm not used to stealing from defenceless people. But I should know better with you by now."

Albus opened his mouth, but a glare from the mediwitch stopped him. "I investigated as you tasked. They carried an oddly large amount of knives and daggers on them, something I have not seen since my apprenticeship. Some of them are poisoned, but aside from that, they're mundane weapons. However, when I cast spells on the sword and the rings, they nearly blew me up!"

She gave a long sigh, placing a hand on her forehead and letting it drop again at her side. "Really, Albus, you should have asked Filius. He's far better than me when it comes to charms and enchantments."

The Headmaster nodded, contemplating the mediwitch's words and gave her a small smile. "I understand your concern, Poppy, however I tasked you and you alone to take care of our… visitors' belongings. And I trust you not to fail me. Not that I don't trust Filius," he added promptly, "but at the moment, the less people who know about the situation, the better."

Poppy just looked at him exasperatedly. "That's your problem, Albus," she said in a soft yet unquestioning tone. "You keep too many secrets, and that will be your doom." She turned and started walking back to the door, but she stopped just before disappearing behind it. "By the way, Albus," she turned a heated glare towards him. "If you force me to do that kind of pettiness again, I'll make sure you know who you're crossing. These two strangers aren't the only problem in this castle. You know that, make sure to deal with what I told you about or it'll be Minerva as well you'll have to answer to. She has never been as patient as me."

With that said, she left, leaving the door open and a thoughtful man behind her who was feeling like the years were crashing down on him all at once.

.

.

Harry was in his bed, curtains closed and the Marauder's Map open on his lap, displaying the two impossible names lying still. The day had been long and tedious, Malfoy trying to hex him around each corner and his house companions avoiding him like the plague, calling him a liar every chance they got, as he knew they were doing when they thought he couldn't hear. Harry felt lonelier than ever. Even Ron and Hermione, his all time best friends, didn't understand what he was feeling.

He missed Sirius and Remus. At least, Harry was sure, they would try to talk to him and ease his worries, not that anything, especially words, could do something against Voldemort trying to take over the Wizarding World. But they'd be there for him, and right now, it's all that mattered.

His headache was exacerbating. Harry didn't know much about this particular enigma and truthfully, he didn't want to think about it. Hermione might have the beginning of an answer, knowing how to work those cogs of hers in her brain, but Harry really didn't want to talk to her (or anyone really) right now. All he wanted, for once in his life, was to spend a normal year free of any danger with friends who weren't either ignoring him or calling him a liar.

.

.

Godric slowly regained consciousness, becoming vaguely aware of the room's lukewarm temperature and of the weight of a larger body against his. He sighed softly, his mind still foggy and tried to fall back into a dreamless sleep.

Thump.

What he'd do for a few more hours...

Thump.

His cheek was pressed against the other's chest and he smiled, content.

Thump.

Sluggishly, he held the other body closer to his own.

Thump.

His smile slowly faded away. Something was wrong.

He frowned.

Thump.

Dread came upon him at once and he felt his insides froze. He took a sharp, shocked intake of breath and he opened his eyes widely.

Thump.

That wasn't the beat of his heart. It was Sal's.

And the realising weakness of it made his own tighten.

.

.

The Great Hall was filled with students enjoying their feast, the candles above their heads casting an eerie orange light down on them. The conversations were lively, some of the older students telling scary stories to the first years who were sure to get nightmares that night. The teachers were alert, on the lookout for any suspicious activity from either the two intruders (for those who knew about them) or from the ghosts, who hadn't appeared at all this evening. Though, none were more alert than the Potions Master who seemed to twitch with each laugh reverberating in the Great Hall. Even Filius and Minerva had stopped trying to include him into any sort of conversation and they had retreated to other chairs when the dark aura the professor had started spreading and became too dreadful for them to withstand.

A girly high-pitched laugh suddenly caught the attention of some students and they raised their eyes on the source. A ghostly Ravenclaw student wearing round glasses with pale skin and blank eyes had suddenly crashed into the Hall, a wide smile on her face, the likes of which not many have seen on her. She made her way not to the Ravenclaw table but towards the Gryffindor one under the watchful gaze of at least two teachers. The ghost floated gleefully until she sat on an empty seat next to Harry.

"Hello, Harry dear," she whispered in his ear as she rubbed her arm against his shoulder, effectively preventing him from eating his buffalo wing. "Enjoying yourself tonight?"

Harry placed his food back onto his plate and pushed it back, his already small appetite completely gone. "Hi, Myrtle," he sighed, turning to face her with a forced smile. "Glad to see you here." He waited for an answer, for something, but the silence stretched and all she was doing was staring deeply at him and they started to draw attention to themselves once more. Harry sent a silent call for help to his friends but Ron turned his eyes away, eating all the food his mouth came across while Neville and Hermione glanced sheepishly at him before starting to quietly chat.

Desperate, Harry turned back to Myrtle and to his utter dismay, her eyes started turning glassy and tears poured from her eyes. Before he could say anything, she put her head down onto his shoulder and grabbed his arm. He gasped as he felt a looming chill crawling up his spine. He shuddered.

"Oh, Harry! If only you knew how the others are with me," she cried. Her sobs became fiercer as Harry tried to escape her grasp, in vain. Her grip on him was nearly painful.

Another racket was heard before two more ghosts—a young red-headed man, chains clinging to his wrists, and freckles on his bloodied face, and a young and beautiful woman with dark hair and darker eyes dressed in a long rich robe—appeared behind them, looking quite angry. Harry turned towards them and Myrtle's lips planted onto his cheek. The Gryffindor felt very small next to the tall figures in front of him, arms crossed on their chests and positively fuming. If the dead could give off heat like the living, the temperature in the Hall would have risen at least two degrees higher.

"Myrtle," the bigger spectre said in a controlled voice, "don't mingle."

The other placed a hand on his other shoulder and smiled at Harry before looking at her companion again. "It's not her fault," she said, "she doesn't know any better."

The grumpy ghost grunted. "Enjoy the rest of the night, Harry," he said before floating away without acknowledging anyone else.

Harry blinked. He didn't know the Bloody Baron knew his name. Actually, he never seemed to talk to anyone. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ron shooting him a wide-eyed glance. Definitely irregular, then.

The other ghost gave him an apologetic smile and flew towards a high windowsill where she sat, her legs dangling lightly.

"See what I mean!" Myrtle shouted at Harry before dashing away, the sound of her sobs echoing around the Hall as she left.

"Good to see you again," Harry murmured to himself, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice to avoid looking at the stares the scenes brought on him. Not that he wasn't used to it by now…

A big explosion coming from behind him almost made him choke on his drink, the sound of laughter emerging almost immediately after. A few first years yelped as the explosion was timed just when the Weasley twins were narrating the climax of their story.

"Crabbe," hissed a brown-haired Slytherin. She glared at the one next to him. "Don't feel like you have to help or anything, Blaise! And stop laughing!"

Blaise smirked while she was trying to soothe her scorched hair.

"Warning. Upcoming tsunami," Draco whispered in her ear.

"Uh-huh." With a sly smile, she waited patiently until Blaise brought his cup to his mouth and cast a spell that made his juice overflow and drip onto his lap. Almost choking, he threw the cup back on the table and stood up in a coughing fit, wiping his trousers with his hands and shaking them on his prankster.

"Oohh, looks like you've had a bit of an accident there, Blaise," the witch teased, wiping a few drops off her cheek and resumed eating her dinner as if she had nothing to do with his current state.

"Fuck off, Pans," he growled at her, and she winked in response, satisfied with her well-executed revenge.

Draco rolled his eyes, sipping his own pumpkin juice. Feeling eyes on him, he raised his head. Potter looked away quickly and he frowned, a smirk blooming on his mouth, not having missed the scene with Moaning Myrtle earlier on.

"Even dead, I see girls can't stand you, Scarface!" he shouted. He grinned when the other snarled.

"Ignore him," Hermione advised, "he's just trying to be interesting, as usual." So now she cared? Harry didn't need her advice to do just that. He drew his hand back when she tried to reach it and had a sad look in her eyes when he did. "Harry," she said, worried.

Though, anything else she was about to say died in her throat when two unknown men appeared in the middle of the Hall in a cloud of smoke.

.

.

Severus rubbed his temples, tired of the turn of events. First a hysteric ghost barging in and leaving just as soon, then the Slytherins acting up again—he seriously thought Umbridge was going to storm over to their table at any moment to scold them like the whiny Ministry employee she was. Not only that, but the mission Albus had tasked him to carry was giving no results at all. Every time he thought he got close to finding the men, it either turned out to be students snogging around a corner or Peeves just being himself.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a loud noise echoed in the Hall and two familiar figures popped out of nowhere—the brief description Albus had given him a few days ago helping him identify them. Silence took place as all students turned towards the teachers' table, in front of which the two men were standing.

Well, one of them was.

"I surrender," the red-haired man—still on his feet—confessed in an exhausted voice, turning to the mediwitch and tightly holding onto his unconscious friend's body. Even in this state the poor man looked like he suffered a lot from the poison in his veins.

Albus stared at him with knowing eyes.

"I have to admit, you do not look like you do."

"That's because my words weren't meant for you, thief. It's not to you I'm giving up to, only to your healer."

The students shared confused and worried glances. Nobody ever spoke to the Headmaster with so much scorn, not even Umbridge.

"I've no affinity with this art or the potions knowledge to help my friend and she seemed competent." He gave him a worried look when the other man grunted and broke into a sweat.

"As of now, she's my only option. But do not misunderstand, no debts will arise from this. You're in no position to gain one from me. This castle is a sanctuary and I'll do whatever I have to do to ensure it'll stay that way." He looked pointedly at Albus, quite satisfied when he saw the corner of his eye flinch. "Now if you please, my friend needs immediate medical attention…"

His eyes were hard but there was also despair and frustration shining on his face.

A chair scraped the ground loudly in the deadly silence, and Pomfrey stood up.

"It was indeed time you showed up. I was getting quite worried considering in what state you left us. You're quite the confusing young men, aren't you? Leaving like the Grim was on your heels." She huffed. "Nonetheless, I'm willing to help you if you swear on your magic that neither you nor your friend have evil intentions towards this castle and its inhabitants. Also we will talk when I'm done and you won't leave before at least three witnesses have agreed on both your righteousness. You will not be allowed to contact anyone from outside this castle and you may be subjected to potions or spells that will help us to know of your truthfulness. Do you accept these conditions?"

The man gritted his teeth, but one look at his companion? friend? seemed to melt all his loathing and doubts. He cared for him, this, at least, was obvious.

"I do."

"Do you swear on your magic?"

"I swear. So mote it be! Now—"

"Now you follow me," Pomfrey interrupted, taking charge. "Severus, you're coming as well," she added in a hasty voice, and he followed without asking questions, leaving his dinner untouched.

The rest of the teachers had their gazes turned towards Albus, and he stood up to talk to the assembly of students who were still silent.

"Worry not, students. These men mean no harm to us, and merely need our help. I'll go there myself to make sure they're comfortable, and leave Professor McGonagall in charge."

He stood up and started walking out, but when the students remained motionless, he added, "Eat up now!"

Murmurs rose from all four tables as theories started forming into the pupils' heads, especially from a certain group at the Gryffindor's table. As the teachers made their way out, the two ghosts looked at each other in shock, one with her hand in front of her mouth, and the other looking livid if that was even possible for a ghost.

A shocked gasp was all Severus heard before leaving the hall and walking faster towards the infirmary. He had no doubt Umbridge would have two words to tell them once things settled down.