Hey guys,

So this is the second part of the last post. I managed to do it in a few days which is a big deal for me. I hope you enjoy it!

-REVISED 4/3/2023.-

I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.

Appropriate Incentive

Around five in the morning, Harry zaps Draco with a light stunning spell, waking the silver-blonde boy from a fitful sleep. Draco jumped out of his bed, wand already in hand and aimed at the shadow attacker.

Harry wasn't worried in the slightest about the wand pointed at his chest, and said, "Easy Malfoy. It's just me."

Recognizing the voice, Draco shouted, "Potter!" He wiped his face of sleep and dried tears. "Bloody hell, what are you doing here?!" Harry studied Draco for a moment and made some educated guesses about how little sleep he must get. Somehow Harry knew Malfoy slept about as little as Harry did.

"It's Flamel, Malfoy," Harry reminded Malfoy. "I'm going training and thought you might want to tag along even though I'm giving you no choice."

Draco shook the slumber from his limbs and lamely asked, "What time is it?"

"Nearly five," Harry answered before moving to the door. "See you in the commons," he said before exiting.

A few minutes later, Draco found Harry playing with Nova as they waited by the Slytherin exit. On the way to the grounds outside, Draco asked, "How did you get into my room? I put the best ward I knew."

"Are you a runes expert?" Harry casually asked.

"Are you trying to say you are?" Draco returned, and Harry gave the silver-haired boy a look of pure confidence as an answer. Draco shook his head, saying, "Still, I know a hell of a lot more than I did when I was fourteen. That ward scheme is specifically geared toward me and activates against anyone that doesn't have my magical signature. The second it felt your magic, it should've knocked you out and alerted me."

"That ward scheme has a flaw," Harry casually informed him as they traverse the empty and silent halls of Hogwarts. "It can be resized to any entrance's shape."

"How is that a flaw?" Draco asked, puzzled. "It's a useful ward scheme if you have multiple entrances, all different sizes."

"Maybe," Harry said as they stepped out on the cold grounds. "Have fun up there," Harry told Nova. "I'll be down here." Nova took off with a powerful push of her wings. The sun has yet to breach the horizon, so the grounds were still murky and dark as they walked, but it wouldn't be long until dawn.

"Sometimes people forget the simplest things," Harry said as they walked toward the Black Lake. "In order for a door to open, it has to have space between the frame and the door. Lets say I modified the size of the entrance so the bottom crack of the door is enlarged tall enough for a person to walk through. The flaw in the rune scheme is it will think it's area of influence is being adapted and just correct itself while I walk underneath it. Without even touching your wards, I essentially moved your protection overhead and walked under it. It took all of three seconds to get through."

Rolling his eyes in disbelief, Draco irately muttered, "The bloody crack of the door..."

"It's not a bad ward, Malfoy," Harry admitted, "Just interlace that rune array with at least seven other creative security schemes and it'll keep most out."

"Seven?" Draco repeated, aghast. "It takes long enough just to make one ward scheme. Interlacing it with seven others is just paranoid and a waste of hours."

"And you're going to do it anyway," Harry commanded. "I don't want to go on offense without shoring up my defense, and like it or not, you're on my side. That means I need confidence that they can't get to me through you."

"Careful, Flamel," Draco taunted in amusement. "It sounds like you might actually care about my safety."

"If only just, Malfoy," Harry callously responded.

"So, what are we doing this early in the morning?" Draco asked. They landed on the grassy field near the black lake.

"Running and swimming," Harry started. "We're training our bodies to be stronger, tougher, and quicker. This training regiment is going to be a daily activity, and I don't want to hear any belly-aching about how stupid this muggle way of doing things is."

"I wasn't going to say that," Draco acknowledged. Harry was actually surprised to hear that by the former pure-blood supremacist. Draco casted a quick privacy charm before saying, "Well, you wouldn't know this, but when we took over the muggle world, we had to carry spare wands with us. If one of their muggle fighters caught you without a wand, they could break bones with their fists! They were primitive, but not without fight, and what's a fight if not primitive?"

Ignoring Draco's casual mention of taking over the world, Harry said, "Good. Wizards have such an aversion to pain they wouldn't last long without wands, potions and charms. There's a benefit to physical strength and speed, and I know it'll enhance our fighting abilities." Harry demonstrated stretches that targeted different areas of the body than the ones they already knew from quidditch training.

Once warmed up, they tackled a ten-kilometer run, followed by a forty-minute swim. Harry and Draco pushed themselves to complete the course as fast as possible, and even though they were both sluggish and weak by the end, they felt a certain level of mental clarity because of it. To Harry, this was more advantageous as a training of the mind rather than simply the body. Harry was hoping to find Draco's mental limit rather than his physical one, and to his surprise, Draco continued on right beside him. No matter how wobbly his legs became or how numbing cold the water of the black lake was, he kept up.

"This might be... irrelevant to ask... but did the Upper Order... try anything on you?" Draco asked through labored breathing as the sun was passing through the horizon, illuminating the purplish blue of the sky in a light golden hue.

To Harry, Draco sounded like he was losing his lungs. Harry almost wanted to give him a potion Nicolas made for physical exhaustion, but decided otherwise. Not only was it good to push the body, but it was also far too weird that he wanted to help Draco-fucking-Malfoy feel better. "No, I doubt they had the chance," was all Harry said. "We'll do this every morning, and in the evenings, we'll train magically."

"Sounds like a plan," Draco heaved.

Harry was wondering how many consecutive days Draco could keep this regiment going—especially when he began incorporating weights—before he mentally broke. Harry then felt his spine hum, and his neck hairs rise. On sheer impulse, Harry shoved Malfoy out of the way of a threat Harry couldn't see, much less identify. Rolling to the side himself, he landed crouched, his wand out of his holster and ready as a stunning spell sped through where his right knee would have been. The stunner hit the ground, blowing rock and dirt on a sprawled-out Malfoy.

All aches and pains forgotten, Harry was consumed by his heightened combat senses. His eyes quickly searched the field and located his attackers. There were two people that he could see, both were female and wearing blue robes. Oddly enough, they were circling each other with their wands out, not even looking at him or Draco. It seemed like they were in the middle of a duel until they heard a loud 'SCREECH' call from Nova who flew over to Harry, asking if they had seen them.

Harry stood up as Nova landed on his shoulder, his wand still out but lowered, relatively sure he was not in actual danger. He reassured his familiar, "It's okay, girl. I'm fine."

Malfoy cursed as he put his wand away, while the two girls rushed over to them. An agitated Malfoy dusted himself off by Harry's side as the two girls from Beauxbatons approached, looking worried. The girls stared at Nova most of the way before sharing a look of amazement between themselves. Harry instantly recognized one of them as Fleur Delacour, perspiring in a way that only enhanced her magically enhanced beauty, and more importantly, in a way he could tell they had been training hard for a while. Like a reflex, Harry worried about his control over his emotional stability. A quick intake of air was the only evidence of his uncertainty and he monitored his emotions carefully.

"Monsieurs, we apologize," Fleur started to say in her French accent. She was slightly out of breath as she reached them and asked with genuine concern, "We were not expecting anyone to be out quite so early. Were ei'zer of you injured?"

Harry quickly slipped his wand back as Draco raised his voice in agitation, "Fortunately for you, no, but if not for good reflexes we could've been!" The girls were taken aback by Draco's brashness, and Harry was reminded of the Draco of old.

The girls tensed up when it was obvious the blonde scion wanted to say more, but Harry placed a firm hand on Draco's shoulder, cutting him off as he said, "It's okay, right, Malfoy?"

Harry's stern eyes stared a clear warning to be less hostile.

Draco could easily see the sternness in Harry's kill-me-green eyes and huffed out his agitation. He turned to the girls and glumly agreed. "Yeah. We're fine."

"It was an accident, I'm sure," Harry added. He wasn't sure how he wanted to interact with Fleur. He was happy to see she was alright, though he would prefer to remain distant. Being around her just reminded him of his past and everything he lost because of his failures.

"Eet was," the dark haired girl said in an accent much thicker than Fleur's. "Vee vere dueling and not paying sufficient attention tu our surroundings."

Draco made a show of rolling his eyes but said nothing.

"You'll have to forgive Draco," Harry said. "He's not partial to the unexpected. The last time he was caught by a spell, it didn't go well." Harry removed his hand from Draco's shoulder, who was no doubt remembering the spell he was killed with.

"My name is Annabelle," the dark haired girl cheerfully said before nodding to Fleur. "Zis is my friend, Fleur Delacour. And you are?"

While Annabelle couldn't help but gaze adoringly at the legendary creature on his shoulder, Fleur was looking intently at Harry when he answered, "Ares Flamel."

Both girls react astonished to hear that. "Eet iz tru," Annabelle happily told Fleur. Keeping her composure, Fleur took the lead. "We've 'eard rumors of a 'ogwarts student wiz a phoenix familiar who is 'eir to zee 'ouse Flamel. Are you indeed 'eir to zee immortal alchemist?"

Harry nodded, though, internally, he was getting tired of that question. He said, "I don't really get why that's such a big deal. It's common for a house to have an heir. It means even less in my case if you consider the head of my house is immortal."

"'Ow can you say zat?!" Annabelle cried in surprise. "'E ees ze immortal alchemist who's philosopher's stone can turn any base metal into gold! You can 'ave any life you can dream ov!" While Annabelle was clearly excited, Fleur was still eyeing Harry closely, like someone trying to place a face they couldn't quite recall.

Harry's sure if he stayed longer, Fleur would either figure out why he looked familiar or ask questions he'd rather not answer. "Yes, well, gold isn't everything," Harry answered quickly. "Well, we won't keep you from your morning training any longer. Have a good day."

Harry and Draco turned to leave when Fleur called, "Wait! We cannot just- In keeping wiz custom, it's improper of me to part wiz you wi'zout offering you a token of apology. Given our station, mine as the daughter of the French Deputy Minister of Magic and yours as heir of a noble and most ancient house, it is expected of me to treat you; to maintain or endorse proper relations between our families."

This all sounded like high society gibberish to Harry, but to avoid embarrassing her by relaying how little he cared about such customs—or knows about, honestly—he said with respect, "I appreciate the uh, gesture, truly, but it's not necessary. No one was hurt, and I'd feel as if I was taking advantage of your generosity over a none-issue."

"You should not feel so," Fleur returned with conviction. "Zhis is for zhe benefit of good relations among us as well as our family."

Harry could feel his irritation rise. It wasn't that Fleur's insistence was annoying, but these archaic and benign rules of society were only going to expose him to matters he didn't want to be exposed to. He didn't want Fleur to learn he was the one who saved her because it'd just draw more unwanted attention. "May I ask," Harry began, only after making sure there was no frustration in his tone. "Would you offer the same token of apology if I was not heir of house Flamel?"

Fleur was a little taken aback by the question and shared a small look of concern with Annabelle before answering, "Tradition and etiquette dictate behavior among those of wealth and status sinze zhe possibility of working relations wiz or among zhem is more likely."

"So can I assume if I was a common wizard, you would not extend the same honor?" Begrudgingly, Fleur nodded, then Harry continued. "I only ask because despite my house's name, I believe great friends or relations can come from anywhere. I've met amazing muggle-born witches and great people from lower houses. You both seem very lovely, and I don't want to offend, but I'd ask if we can remain welcoming without tradition... at least in this case." Harry hoped Fleur wasn't put off by his request. He remembered her suffering as vividly in his timeline—infinitely worse than what she suffered at the world cup—as all the others, and he didn't want to be the cause of any pain or even disappointment in this timeline.

'She deserved to be happy,' Harry thought. 'They all do.'

Fleur seemed thoughtful, and her tone was lighter as she said, "Zat is quite irregular." Harry felt he was free to leave when she took a few steps forward. "I respect your point o' view, Monsieur Flamel." She extended her hand. "If possible I 'ope we may speak again, as you say, wi'zout customs obliging us." Her tone was sweet and hopeful.

Harry did not want to shake her hand, but he knew it would definitely be insulting if he didn't. Suddenly, a sweet smell filled his nostrils and Harry wondered why Fleur suddenly looked so amazing. Her flawless skin had a rosy glow, her sensual eyes were blue as the sky, and her silky blonde locks flowed beautifully. He had known she was beautiful since the first moment he saw her, but looking at her now felt like discovering it for the first time.

He was about to shake her hand gratefully when Draco called out, "He would love to talk to you." Harry turned to the blonde scion, who was gazing lovingly at Fleur. Immediately, he recognized the dilated pupils, idiotic grin, and flushed cheeks as being enthralled. Realizing what was happening was all Harry needed to snap out of the hypnosis and right his mind. Draco continued to say lovingly, "he would love you so much, wouldn't you H-"

Instinctively, Harry smacked Malfoy hard upside his head, breaking him out of the allure with sharp and abundant pain.

"Bloody hell!" Malfoy automatically yelped, rubbing at the point of impact.

Shocked faces were on all four students. Draco was out of physical pain and realization of being enthralled. Annabelle was slightly enthralled herself but more because Harry broke out of the allure in seconds. Fleur had met someone who was so unaffected by her allure, it wouldn't be a stretch to say he could be naturally immune—a very rare thing in the world. Harry's shock mostly had to do with Fleur either losing control or using her allure. He wasn't angry at her. Maybe if he didn't have such a singular focus, he would have accepted whatever token of apology she had in mind in the first place. Maybe she didn't have complete control in the moment—it had happened before. As everything stood, he would rather not be involved with her any more than he had to.

He ignored the allure and lightly shoved Malfoy's shoulder to move. "It was very nice to meet you both, but we have to go. Have a good day," Harry told them, rushing Draco back toward the castle before they could respond. Draco shrugged Harry's hand off once they were inside the halls again.

"That's a lot stronger than I remember," Draco mentioned as they walked down to the dungeons.

"A veela's allure is strongest in their younger years," Harry absentmindedly answered. "Fleur told me it gets easier to control the older they get, but it will still affect young knobs and sex-crazed wankers easily." Harry looked at Draco specifically when describing who her allure easily affected.

"I'm not either of those," Draco muttered, ignoring Harry's jab.

"Face it Malfoy, you're a hormonal teenager again," Harry remarked.

"Like you're not!" Draco hotly contested.

"I'm at least focused enough to keep myself from spilling my guts around her," Harry returned just as easily. "You're lucky you weren't in control or you might've lost your magic or your life to the oath. Work on your occlumancy. I don't want to be responsible for your death."

Annoyed by losing control, he simply nodded before mentioning something he'd been meaning to bring up. "You really need to learn proper etiquette."

"The hell I do," Harry snorts.

"Like it or not you're high society now," Draco stated. "Which means you need to act a certain way or it's considered offensive. You nearly offended Greengrass yesterday, and if Delacour was a little more conservative, you could have offended her as well."

"I don't care about all that nonsense," Harry groaned, bothered by the entire topic.

"Maybe you should," Draco argued. "If you want to get into Black Manor, Tracey inviting you to the wedding would be your best bet."

"Wouldn't they just invite the Flamels, anyway?" Harry reasons. Though he didn't know much about the politics of high society, he at least recognized an obvious political ego-stroke like that. "Inviting big family names to boast about all the powerful people you know is normal, isn't it?"

"Most of the time, yes," Draco admitted. "It's a long standing tradition among upper class witches and wizards to have the biggest, most lavish wedding possible. It's as much for political purposes as it is for social ones. It can also be very lucrative. Weddings are great venues for supporting businesses or political negotiations. My gormless father did loads of business during his own wedding; helped catapult the Malfoy name to what it is today."

"Get to the point, Malfoy," Harry implored, unmotivated by hearing about the rich and the stupid.

"If this were a normal wedding you would most definitely get an invitation, but Black is different," Draco said. "He doesn't care about any of that." Harry couldn't help but allow a smile of pride on his face as Draco continued. "He's even marrying a witch who was primarily raised in the muggle world, is a divorcee, and already has a child from a muggle man! That's unheard of for a prestigious house like Black. It's a social snub of the highest order." Harry allowed his smile to widen and linger before Draco wiped it away. "That's also bad for you; us. It's because they don't care that the Flamels, along with a lot of other prominent families, won't get an automatic invitation."

At that, Harry stopped smiling and wondered how else he could break in that didn't involve pretending to care about social niceties.

"I know the wedding is going to be a smaller, more personal affair at Black Manor," Draco mentioned. Harry didn't know where Black Manor was. It wasn't listed anywhere—not that he expected it would be—and it wasn't part of his timeline. But if it was an ancestral home, those wards are among the hardest to bypass, since they're brimming with centuries of latent magic. "And Black is the head Auror which means the best defense you can imagine, plus a good portion of the DMLE, will be there. As you can guess, the best way of getting in, is going by invitation, and that's not happening unless you play nice with Davis."

"Couldn't you do it?" Harry weakly asked, suddenly feeling drained. "You know all this crap a hell of a lot better than I do, and honestly, it's vomit-inducing just thinking about it."

"I do," Draco easily agrees. "But I can't. She, uh, doesn't like me."

Harry wasn't surprised to hear that. Looking at Draco expectantly, he demanded to know, "What did you do?"

"I-" Draco cut himself off before he changed tactics. "Let's just say she has cause, and move on shall we?"

"No, we shall not," Harry said. "She already asked me about you once. Don't you think she might ask again. I don't want to be blindsided, Malfoy. What did you do?"

Draco huffed in irritation and looked away as he hesitantly answered, "I called her a filthy mudblood slag who should get used to her place on her back, and feel honored her miserable existence was at least seductive enough to please her betters." Harry was speechless for several beats before the blond continued. "That was our first meeting. And before the engagement, there were a lot of other similar insults." Harry couldn't even put into words how colossally stupid Malfoy was. "That was before I 'came back,' of course."

"…Of course," Harry repeated sarcastically. "Merlin's balls Malfoy. I could've done without making friends with someone she more than likely hates!"

"I wouldn't say we're friends exactly..." Draco tried to say, embarrassed by his behavior.

"No shit!" Harry yelled. "Neither would I, but she doesn't know that, does she?" Harry exhaled loudly and continued walking down. They nearly arrived at the Slytherin entrance when Harry turned to Draco and ordered, "You're going to apologize to her, and for Merlin's sake, you're going to mean it. I mean, really mean it. Think you can handle that? I know prostrating yourself isn't something you Malfoys are good at-"

"I got it, okay!" Draco yelled. "You don't have to tell me how big of a prat I was; I got it. I..."

Draco seemed to shut down after that, and they silently made their way to and through the Slytherin entrance. For the thousandth time since he had returned from the future, Draco had wondered about his place in this world and the influence he had over it. He had thought about his son and the environment he had helped create that had ultimately snuffed his little life. An iron grip of guilt had constrained his heart, but oddly enough, it had reinforced his determination every time.

Draco had assured himself he would not let it happen again.

Draco's mind had been so preoccupied with his past mistakes and the results of his misleading ideals that he hadn't noticed any activity from the few Slytherins already out and ready for the first day. Harry and Draco had retreated to their rooms to shower and change. Draco had been the first of the two to return to the Slytherin commons. The gallery of students was much larger then than when Draco had first entered. Nearly every student of Slytherin had been seated or standing together, all facing the first-year dormitory's entrance.

Draco hadn't been sure what to make of it. It had seemed like the majority of the house was clumped in their social pockets waiting. He learned why a moment later when he had walked toward the other fourth years—Crabbe and Goyle automatically flanked him. Before Draco could ask his fellow fourth years for news, the Slytherin entrance had opened to allow Dumbledore and Professor Babbling to enter.

"What's going on?" Draco asked no one in particular. Tracey, Greengrass and Zabini don't answer him, not that he cared as much as he would have before his 'return.' Pansy and Theodore eagerly answered instead.

"You're not going to believe this," Theodore chuckles. "All the upper order were found frozen this morning in the first year dormitory. Snape's in there now. He kicked us out so you can't see it but nearly all the Upper Order, including Khan were petrified—probably forever. No one knows how it happened. That or they're not saying. I wouldn't, either. Against the Upper Order, they would've just signed their own death warrant."

"It's terrible," Pansy exclaimed as they all watched Snape talk with both Babbling and Dumbledore. "The rumor is someone must've broken in because none of the other prefects could cancel the ward. They had to bring in Professor Snape to rescue them, and when even he couldn't, he called for Dumbledore and Babbling. Though I can't imagine why they would allow a mudblood into Slytherin."

Pansy's tone describing Professor Babbling was clearly derisive, and Draco couldn't help but use her as proof of his toxic system of support. Between his friends, money, and family, Draco would like to say he had no way of avoiding how he turned out, but he has his doubts.

"Even a Gnome can figure out whatever happened to the Upper Order involves runes and wards," Greengrass answered with an air of aristocracy. "Whatever trapped them in place must be of a high level if Professor Snape felt he had to call both Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Babbling."

"Look at them," Nott brought up, pointing at the happy first years. "It's beyond wrong they haven't gone through the same hazing we did. It's just not fair. They should suffer too. It's tradition!"

"I wonder who could've broken in," Tracey added to the group, but mostly spoke to Greengrass.

Pansy added her view without being prompted. "It's obviously some mudblood sympathizer who's stupid enough to think he can embarrass us."

"How is that obvious, Parkinson?" Greengrass plainly asked, and even without an attitude, everyone could still sense the annoyance.

Raising her wide nose in challenge, Pansy made her point, stating, "No one but misguided peasants would think attacking their betters is a good idea. They were born weak, poor and jealous of everything we have and everything we are. It's the simplest thing in the world," the future mother of Draco's son stated.

Draco wondered how blind he was to think she was the perfect girl for him when a flap of wings produced a strong gust of wind that rustled the robes of everyone nearby. Everyone was startled to see Harry with Nova standing by the group when no one noticed him approach.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Draco in a disinterested tone without looking at him. Greengrass moved to answer, but Draco beat her to it.

"Apparently, the Upper Order are frozen, petrified in front of the first year rooms," Draco said lightly, almost with a hint of all knowing.

"That's it Malfoy?" Tracey asked with clear derision. "No additional quip of pure-blood retribution against misguided cretins. Aren't you going to rally your noble parents to fight this injustice for you like you always do?"

Draco took a moment to stare at Tracey, and recall all the wrongs he'd done against her. "No," Draco easily responded. Tracey didn't seem phased by his response but he noticed Greengrass narrow her eyes skeptically. "It's just as I said," he maintained as he turned to Harry and continued. "The working theory is someone broke in and used wards to stop them from hazing the first years."

"We don't know anything for certain," Greengrass added, eying Harry evenly but speculatively. "It's too careless to assume we know why this happened... but I find the timing very suspicious."

Harry didn't respond and Greengrass didn't elaborate as their eyes met for some seconds. Before any more was said Dumbledore and Snape walked up to the gathered Slytherin. Dumbledore looked around the room before clearing his throat and addressing his students in an overly grandfather manner.

"While our dear professor Babbling is analyzing the unfortunate circumstance keeping a number of our students trapped in place, I would like to inquire if anyone in this room found themselves in a position to witness anything in the late hours," Dumbledore asked. "A portrait made note of a small gathering of Slytherins returning before curfew."

The Slytherins looked around the room eager to see if anyone saw anything. Harry was petting Nova, unconcerned about it all when Snape added, "Come now, speak up. Even if only the smallest detail was witnessed, it is your duty as Slytherins to assist your housemates."

Again, everyone was looking for anyone that knew more about this compelling mystery. Draco noticed Greengrass eying Harry's neutral—almost bored—expression. Draco felt a sudden spike of panic. He had always known Greengrass to have a sharp mind—it was the main reason she irked him when he first met the beautiful girl—but the way she was analyzing Harry, he could almost see the heiress plotting in her mind, or at the very least, compiling an accurate assessment of him. Draco made a mental note to warn Harry later.

When no one spoke up, Dumbledore added, "You can speak with your head of house or myself in private if that would make you most comfortable, but I implore you to voice your observations nevertheless. Currently, the best manner to reverse the restraints on our students is by locating the perpetrator."

"And keep in mind, any aid to this transgression will not go unpunished," Snape sharply added with venomous authority. Harry couldn't help but think how counterproductive his warning was. The 'perpetrator' won't reveal himself and those that know nothing could be questioned and pressured needlessly, possibly to the point they might invent information to show that they are loyal to their house. It was almost fostering misinformation.

"Hopefully that won't be necessary," Dumbledore countered Snape's stern approach, showing all his grandfatherly warmth—it was a good ploy to cultivate trust among the younger impressionable students, Harry mussed to himself. "I know my students will do all they can to assist those in need, if given the opportunity," Dumbledore finished.

There was some snickering and eye rolling among the older students in the pit of snakes that implied otherwise, and Harry almost snorted himself. He could always count on Dumbledore to have faith in everyone, even if the person was holding a wand to his throat. 'But this is Death Eater boot camp,' Harry mentally told Dumbledore. 'And what these snakes need isn't faith and well wishes, but the appropriate incentive to be decent fucking human beings.' And Harry promised to give these children exactly the lesson they needed... or death.

"Perhaps it's as the Headmaster says," Snape said, looking out at the worried Slytherins. "I would hate to learn later that a member of our house was complicit in aiding this deplorable-"

"Genius!" Babbling's excitement echoed throughout the room as she exited the first year corridor straight to Snape and Dumbledore. Harry wondered how young she was because he had never seen a professor skip in joy. She didn't so much ignore every eye that was drawn to her as much as was unable to concentrate on anything but runes and the professors. She babbled over this like discovering an ancient artifact. "In all my years of study, these rune schemes are some of the best defensive wards I've ever come across! They're absolutely genius!"

"Calm yourself woman!" Snape stated. "You sound like an insufferable quidditch wench." Many of the students snickered at the insult.

"Severus," Dumbledore called, eying the professor like a child who's crossed the line.

"Forgive me, Professor," he said evenly, absent any sense of authenticity. "I simply cannot fathom how you feel a dozen of my injured students can be described as genius!" Snape raised his voice. "I am only concerned with their safety."

Babbling seems taken aback by Snape's public shaming but didn't let up. "I am just as committed to our student's well being as any other professor, Serverus. But these runes almost reinvent how I learned them. It's not unlike discovering Skele-Gro can also be used as a Pepper-Up potion. It's just genius!"

Harry, Draco, Zabini and Greengrass don't react like the excited Slytherins whispering to one another about the stunning news. Dumbledore asked if she could elaborate on her findings. She nodded and continued saying, "After casting many diagnostic spells, I've discovered significant points within the ward scheme. I'm sad to say," she relays trying to hide her smirk. "They're beyond me, so I can't cancel the wards. It's also independent of the school's wards which is why the Headmaster is unable to as well."

"What can you tell us?" Dumbledore asked.

"First," she started, tying her hair in a quick ponytail. "The wards are intent based, but on a goblin rune master level. The intent in this case should be harm or ill-will. I can tell from the few instances I was honored enough to study with a horde. It's also why we, along with the first years, were able to enter and leave a room without incident. I can't make out what each array does specifically but I can say the students captured are not in any physical danger. They will however need to be asked pointed questions to determine what set the wards off to begin with."

"So you believe we will be able to speak with them?" Dumbledore asked. "I feared the worst when even I could not cancel the effects."

"Oh, yes," Babbling returned. "Studying each ward, I noticed a pulse-like rune that seems to recycle to a weaker and weaker signal. I believe it to be a timer. I can't determine how much time is left but I know it's not indefinite."

"Is there anything else you can share?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, yes," Babbling gasped, beside herself. Harry almost smiled because she was acting a bit like a groupie. She almost reminded him of Hermione learning about a new book or topic. "So much!" she exclaimed. "The entire ward system is made up of individual schemes arranged like an index, or an order of activity. I can't determine what each array will do but I know it's specific to some effect. The first determines intent. You can imagine, if there's ill-will to the student within the room, the whole thing activates. The second gambit to activate, an array for petrificus totalus. It keeps them in place but awake and aware enough to experience time and even see us. I'm sure I spotted a marker rune, but the arrangement is unlike anything I've ever seen. The next gambit activated seems to be a sensory based effect. I believe they're hearing something, though I can't say what it is."

"Listen to yourself," Snape mouthed low enough for only a few to hear, to the lovely Babbling. "What's needed at this very moment is not your adoration. As much as it would disappoint you, what we need is a method to eliminate these wards."

"Severus," Dumbledore easily stated and Snape backed off, crossing his arms. The old Headmaster turned to a sore and steaming Babbling. "Severus is correct. We need to remove these wards as soon as possible from the first year corridor, or we may have to move all the students until we do so."

"I don't feel that's necessary," Babbling said in a clipped tone. All mirth and amusement gone as she continued. "It's my professional opinion that these wards will not harm anyone within the room they protect. Aside from the Headmaster's office, these rooms might be the safest in the castle, because that's what they were used for; defense! I'd be more interested in learning what intention the older students had in mind for the children inside to set off the wards in the first place." She narrowed insinuating eyes at Snape before addressing Dumbledore again. "As for removing them, I have to admit it would take me three, maybe four weeks to remove one and I can't even guarantee that."

"You are a Rune Master yourself, dear Bathsheda. How is that possible?" Dumbledore inquired, stern of brow.

The room was silent as they listened to Babbling explain, "These wards are so impressive, they're interwoven with ambient magic. They're self-sustaining. It wouldn't be hard to believe natural magic created these wards to protect the children. Trying to remove wards of this caliber is nearly like removing magic from existence. If you're truly desperate to remove defensive wards only meant to keep children safe, I'd recommend hiring a team of Rune Masters or Cursebreakers. As a Rune Master myself, I can tell you it'll only cost a small fortune."

Dumbledore stroked his long beard with a thoughtful expression when suddenly a loud, ear-piercing sound of fingernails scraping against a chalkboard filled the room. The constant screeching and scratching of nails against chalkboard were so excruciating that everyone in the room desperately covered their ears in hair-raising pain. The immense visceral reaction lasted a full seven seconds, prompting a few of the students to run away when it finally stopped. Everyone had a second to breathe a sigh of relief when another sound exploded in the room. This time it was the painful cries of each of the older years trapped in the corridor. Wide-eyed with terror, they were so desperate to escape the hall that they stumbled over or shoved one another out of the way.

Before everyone assembled, the Upper Order had amassed in the commons, tumbling to the floor or over chairs, groaning and humming in pain as they covered their ears. One student was banging his ears with his fists, while most kept their palms locked flat on the sides of their heads. One of the more desperate sixth-years was clawing at the side of his head, cutting into his skin and drawing some blood. Their manic reactions surprised and disgusted many in the room, except Harry. He kept his blank mask on, inwardly enjoying their suffering as the professors tried to help the unwilling students.

It took the professors many moments to calm the students. Snape finally managed to get Khan to focus enough to ask him, "What happened?"

"Ughh," Khan started, shaking his head almost reflexively, like trying to get water out of his ears. "It- It was horrible! It wouldn't stop! It wouldn't stop!"

"What?" Snape tries to ask. "What wouldn't stop?"

"That, that, that, that, that-"

"Mr. Khan!" Snape interjects, snapping the boy out of his loop.

"That noise," Khan choked out. "It- It was like the class chalkboards and... and..."

"Don't say it!" Another student yells.

"It's okay," Snape told the boy. "I think we know what you heard. Can you explain how this happened?"

"I, I don't know," Khan muttered, suddenly getting the shakes. "W-We didn't do anything wrong. We were going to test the first years' wards, and, and, and..." Khan stopped as his trembling worsened. Harry almost snorted at the large boy's wide-eyed expression of horror.

"Let's bring the children to Poppy," Dumbledore told Snape. "I want to ensure they're no lingering effects. Bathsheda if you would please continue to examine the wards and inform me of all you learn. I will consult a cursebreaker I am closely acquainted with to assist."

'Bill,' Harry immediately thought. Harry wasn't sure how good Bill was. He doubted he'd make a difference, but the eldest Weasley did work for the Gringotts after all. He might have better luck than professor Babbling, since his whole focus was breaking wards.

"As you wish Headmaster," Babbling acquiesced. "Though, I still feel these wards are perfectly safe. If you can find the person responsible, I'd even recommend paying this person to add them to every room in Hogwarts."

'If this school disciplined properly, these wards wouldn't be necessary,' Harry mentally interjected.

"I'll keep that in mind Bathsheda," Dumbledore naturally replied.

The Slytherins were whispering and gossiping among themselves when Snape ordered everyone to breakfast. Draco turned to Harry only to discover he was already gone. Looking around, he noticed Daphne eye the entrance to the common room as it closed. Draco caught up to Harry, Nova on his shoulder, in the halls heading toward the Great Hall.

"Well, I can't say I was expecting that," Draco remarked. Harry was about to respond when a winded Crabbe and Goyle scampered up to the future boys.

When they covered each side of Draco's back, Harry gave them each a brief look. Harry smirked as he said, "I hope you boys don't have eggs stuck on your heads." Harry kept walking ahead as the large boys snorted and shrugged. Draco looked at the tops of Crabbe and Goyle's head but saw nothing.

Wondering why Harry would even talk to them, Draco felt the urge to command them as he had always done. In this case, to never put an egg on their heads. But his newfound sense of morality gave him an unnatural code of conduct he was still not accustomed to. Ever since he had come back, there was always doubt; there was always conflict which naturally extended to Crabbe and Goyle. Like every other aspect of his life, one side of his psyche would tell him it was right to command those beneath him. Why did they matter when he was the one born to privilege? Yet, another smaller, louder side of him was telling him it was wrong. No one was better or worse than he was and deserved to be treated as he would treat himself.

'But they stood by while my son was murdered,' Draco thought as they continued toward the Great Hall. "Not only did they bear witness to my son's murder, they were ordered to rape me. And while they both looked disgusted during the act, they nevertheless did as commanded. How could they possibly know any better if they had been taking orders their entire lives and were often celebrated for it?"

Draco turned to his long-time companions; his face stern and unkind. The large boys pulled up at the abrupt stop and looked confused for a moment before Draco addressed them. "From this very moment, I will no longer be dictating your actions. Do you understand what that means? I won't be telling you what to do or how to do it. If you don't want to follow me, then don't. If you want to do something that you thought I'd disapprove of, then do it. I am no longer in charge of you guys." Considering their intellect, Draco clarified some boundaries. "That doesn't mean I'm giving you permission to do bad things. The both of you are going to be responsible for your own decisions and the consequences they might provoke. Think about the people you want to be and if you need help with that... I'll be happy to talk to you about it. But I tell you now, don't be surprised if I stop you from hurting anyone. Don't be surprised."

He glared intently at the both of them unsure they really understood. With a defeated exhale of air, he turned to see Harry observing the entire time. With the slightest of nods, Harry continued his trek to the Great Hall, and Draco followed only just by his side.

Nails on a chalkboard absolutely kills me. I can't think of a worst noise, but if you can, I'd love to hear it.