Notes: Chapters 14 and 15 feature passages with exact time stamps because the timing of things happening on this one day in and around Hogwarts will become important later on. This story is however not going to devolve into an hourly play-by-play in general.
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
4:37 am
"Albus, wake up! There's been a fight in the Grand Staircase! Severus is wounded, and Harry Potter attacked him! Albus!"
The portrait of Hayward Fiddlesticks tried its level best to raise the sleeping headmaster, but it was to no avail. No matter how loud the pudgy wizard shouted from his canvas, egged on by a hysterical Danica Strix who'd crossed eleven portraits to arrive here with a warning – Albus Dumbledore continued to sleep like a stone.
Little did Hayward know about the Charm the headmaster had cast on himself after waking up to an overwhelming sadness hours before. It wasn't so much the loss of sleep that Albus had feared in the dead of night, but the things his ever-working might've shown him until sunrise.
There was only so much sorrow the old man could stomach, no matter how much it was caused by things he had or hadn't done himself.
And so Albus missed — as he would discover much later — crucial hours on what would turn out to be a pivotal day in all Sentinel-related matters. This, he'd reflect upon in the future, would be his greatest folly ever since he'd cast aside his initial suspicions about one Tom Riddle.
"Albus, for Merlin's sake, wake up!"
"It's no use, Hayward." Danica's brushstroke turned frizzy for a second as she became overwhelmed by anxiety. "Maybe he's been hit with a curse."
"Come on! By whom?" Hayward threw his arms up and winced as he hit the left side of his frame. Somehow he could never exit the painting in that direction.
The woman shrugged. "The Dark Lord's acts in mysterious ways."
"Stop quoting old Muggle literature, my dear, it's unbecoming." Phineas Black entered Hayward's portrait frame from the right side and sneered at his audience. "Now what is going on here and why haven't I already been informed of whatever it is?"
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
4:42 am
Minerva was happy to be woken from her dreams, since they'd been about the family she'd lost long ago. Not exactly nightmare material, but even after all those years it broke her heart anew every time she remembered them.
As she hurried to the door, she quickly dried her tears and cast a wordless Charm to clean up her face. It just didn't do to have colleagues or students see her in such a vulnerable state.
As she grabbed the doorknob, the old Gryffindor had an inkling she'd see either Harry or Hermione on the other side.
She was right.
"I'm sorry for waking you like this, Professor McGonagall, but there's an emergency," Hermione pattled as soon as the door opened.
"Miss Granger." Minerva looked around, but there was nobody else around. "What happened?"
"Harry and Snape… I'm sorry, Professor Snape… they had an…" Hermione wrought her hands. "An altercation. On the stairs."
Minerva stopped herself from sighing. "Are Mister Potter's senses overwhelming him again? We need to call Madame Pomfrey!" She drew her wand but stopped when Hermione shook her head.
"No, we already did that, and… it's not Harry who needs medical attention." The girl actually winced as she said those words as if they were harmful if spoken loud.
The older woman blinked. "Come again?"
Hermione swallowed and then looked her in the eye. "Harry found out that Professor Snape was the one who attempted to obliviate me. When… when they met on the Grand Staircase, they… fought."
Minerva knew she should be running towards the stairs as fast as possible right now, but something held her back. And it was just the image of Severs — who, despite all his flaws, she'd always pegged him to be a formidable duelist — being beaten by Harry James Potter.
Or the serious accusation Miss Granger had just leveled against the Slytherin Professor.
No, it was the strange look that Hermione was giving her. Underneath the visible anxiety of breaking such uncomfortable news to her, the girl was… observing her.
Waiting.
For Minerva's reaction to that accusation.
This was a test, and the older woman didn't like being on the receiving end for once. Because she didn't exactly know where she was standing right now, all things considered. Strangely timed coincidences continued to take place in Hogwarts, ever since Harry Potter had set foot in the ancient castle. And recently…
Everything was escalating.
Minerva didn't need to recall the image of a distraught Hermione being brought back from outside, wet and shoeless, or of Harry lying in the Hospital Wing again, to know in her bones that there was more going on right now that she'd been privy to.
And in that moment she decided that she wasn't done breaking Hogwarts' rules just yet. She'd already arranged meetings for her favorite Gryffindors behind Albus' back, and now she'd continue to give those two troublemakers a helping hand. Serious as the accusation might be, if both Harry and Hermione claimed that Severus tried an Obliviation…
How many metaphorical trolls did those kids have to defeat before she'd stop questioning their motives at every turn?
Albus and his beloved secrets be damned.
"All right, show me the way, Miss Granger," she said.
The girl's eyes grew wide, then she nodded. "Yes, of course, Professor. They're slightly above the third floor." If Minerva wasn't mistaken, there was a ghost of a rueful smile on her face.
As they hurried up the stairs, she began compiling a list of hard questions for Albus and Severus. For when they'd have a talk. And this time she wouldn't stay quiet, no matter what.
They continued to run, much faster than was proper, but this was an emergency. Several portraits were awake and called out to her that a Professor had been attacked on the third floor. A few frames were empty. Minerva just raised her hand as she ran by, acknowledging the warnings.
Then she heard voices from above.
Poppy was cursing, loudly. Someone was groaning in pain… she hoped it wasn't Harry Potter again, despite what Miss Granger'd said.
She noticed that the air smelled burned all of a sudden, and then she saw black marks on the walls and stairs in front of her. Those weren't just signs of a duel.
No, Minerva had seen places like this lots of times.
During the war.
Her inner cat, as she liked to call that aspect of herself that'd never completely let go of her animagus form, became defensive and nervous. The property damage was substantial.
Argus Filch would probably have a fit.
Finally, she saw Poppy's head.
And then Severus, behind the mediwitch.
She gasped, involuntarily, as Hermione stepped aside and gave her a full view of the landing between the third and fourth floor. The railing was gone, as was most of the carpet. The stairs going up were missing a few steps, and the nearby balconies appeared to have been demolished by a band of giants. Three meters above her, several broken bits of marble hovered in the air, slowly rotating around all axes and refusing to fall down.
Severus was lying on the landing's floor, badly wounded. Under Poppy's barrage of spells and bandages Minerva could see that his ribcage appeared to be… flattened. He was bleeding from his eyes and ears, but thankfully seemed to be unconscious now.
"What… what happened?" she stammered.
Poppy looked up for just a split second. "If I didn't know it better I'd say he's been trampled by an angry hippogriff, or a dragon. If I don't get him to St. Mungo's soon, he might die."
"Did you call Albus?"
"Yes, but he doesn't answer, so I don't think we can hope to use Fawkes." The school matron nodded grimly. "We need to levitate him outside so we can use an emergency Portkey."
Minerva turned around. "Where is Mister Potter?"
"I'm over here," came a voice from above. Harry was kneeling at the railing of the fourth floor, observing the scene.
"What are you doing up there?" Minerva demanded, her voice growing sharp.
"Madame Pomfrey and Hermione said I needed to step aside," he replied, apparently chastised. Unlike Snape, he didn't look half-dead, if only slightly dirty and his hair was a wild mane.
Poppy sighed. "I sent him away because he's interrupting some of my spells. At least when he's close to Miss Granger." She wiped a bit of sweat off her face.
Minerva turned back to the school matron. "So, her being able to lend him focus isn't the whole story, then?" Wordlessly, she raised her wand and levitated Severus in sync with her friend.
They'd done this more than once.
"As I said before, this goes beyond anything I've ever seen in all my years," Poppy answered and began going downstairs. "Once we've made sure Severus will be alright, maybe we should bring Mister Potter to St. Mungo's as well. It's long overdue, if you ask me."
Minerva turned towards Hermione. "I'm sorry that I spoke as if you weren't present, Miss Granger. We'll bring Professor Snape to St. Mungo's. Please wake the Headmaster or another Professor and inform them of what happened here." She looked up to Harry. "Mister Potter, I'm asking you to stay exactly where you are until I'm back. I'm not locking you up or accusing you of anything as of this moment, but I need to know you won't wander off while I'm gone. Do I have your word?"
Harry's eyes narrowed, but he nodded sharply. "Yes, Professor."
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
6:05 am
When Hermione came back from yet another talk to Professor Flitwick, who'd ordered all prefects to be woken and was currently beginning to repair the extensive damage left by the fight, Harry couldn't help but smile despite everything.
He knew he was in serious trouble, but seeing her walking around being calm and effective somehow gave him… hope? It was hard to say, other than it felt good.
Still sitting precisely where McGonagall had last seen him, he'd decided to dangle his legs through the ancient railing and lean his head on it to peer through its bars. The height of the Grand Staircase didn't bother him in the slightest.
Professor Flitwick had just nodded once after he'd arrived and seen him sitting up here. Whatever Hermione had said to the man must've been very convincing.
Absently, he watched the floating pieces of debris that hovered a few meters in front of him.
What spell had caused that?
He didn't know.
Much of the fight was a blur, even though Harry was able to focus on millions of tiny details in his recollection. It was all drenched in his anger, though, and that made it somehow harder to reflect upon his actions. He remembered some of the things Dumbledore had said to him over the years about anger, but he didn't feel like separating the knowledge from the man and so he dismissed it.
Should he be ashamed that the thought of physically 'dismissing' Snape still felt immensely satisfying? Harry didn't know how to judge his emotions, but he felt he didn't have a choice but to relish his victory. The fight itself had been sort-of useless, sure… nothing of value had been discovered by his duel with the cantankerous Slytherin.
And yet…
There was a limit to what he was willing to forgive.
A mere month ago, the very thoughts that he had now would've felt as alien to himself as the occasional insights he'd gotten into Voldemort's mind in years prior.
How quickly things had changed…
Hermione's scent brought him out of his reverie and Harry turned his head to the side without raising it from the railing.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself."
She sat down beside him and, after a moment of consideration, decided to angle her feet as well. He noticed how her heartbeat increased and how her muscles tensed up because she didn't like the yawning depths in front of them.
"You don't have to sit here."
Hermione sniffed. "S'okay. I can't avoid things that bother me forever."
That sounded suspiciously like an opening for another topic, Harry decided. He didn't know how to respond, exactly. Professor Flitwick's spellcasting distracted him on top of everything because he felt the magic on his skin as if it were warm sunlight.
Seeing some of the cracks and burn marks slowly disappear was comforting, though.
"Harry."
"Yeah."
"What are you going to do now?"
He looked at her again and saw all those hundreds of tiny movements in her facial muscles that made up her current expression. He'd never tire of seeing the multitude of brown hues in her irises, how her pupils dilated whenever she looked him in the eyes…
"Harry!" Hermione smiled. "Focus, please."
He blinked. "Sorry."
They regarded each other.
"I'm not sorry I went after him, Hermione," he eventually said in a low voice. "I know you dislike violence, but after what he did… I couldn't let it go."
She took a long breath. "I… understand, Harry."
"But you don't like it."
"No." Hermione looked more tired all of a sudden. "I don't like it because I believe he needs to answer in court… and because I don't know how I feel about… everything."
Harry smelled her growing anxiety. "What do you mean?"
"I'm still working through what happened, Harry. In the owlery, and when you found me. I know I was waiting for you to find me, it was… " She stopped and licked her lips, drawing his attention to the tip of her tongue.
It took all his might to keep his focus.
"It's not easy, thinking about it," Hermione continued. "Or even talking about it. All of it. There are moments when I'm completely overwhelmed. Only to find a center of calm in me the next moment. Being a Guide… I don't know if it's supposed to be this hard? And for the life of me I can't seem to explain…"
"You don't have to, I understand."
She smiled again and to Harry, it was warmer and more intense than any magical energy he'd ever felt on his skin. "Thank you."
He turned away from her when he noticed a group coming down through the Grand Staircase. His senses told him it wasn't McGonagall but a few of the prefects going to Professor Flitwick for advice. None looked up to where Hermione and he were sitting.
They watched as the Head of House Ravenclaw ordered the prefects to close the stairs between the fourth and the second floor and route all students to a nearby staircase that Berenice Willows had apparently and accidentally discovered at one point between the fight and now.
"What is he talking about?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you about it. It seems that the castle opened a new staircase, randomly, in that hallway over there." She pointed up and across the Grand Staircase. "Twenty or so steps down that corridor, just after the enormous painting in the wide alcove on the left side, there's suddenly an opening in the wall."
"Err… okay?" Harry wondered if he should've noticed that. Normally he felt every movement of the castle around him, especially when stairs or sections of the wall shifted.
"Professor Sprout already inspected it and the stairs go down to the second floor."
"That's… convenient?" He rubbed his neck.
Hermione shrugged. "Well, according to the Professors, it didn't exist before. Nobody seems to know about it."
"Not even Dumbledore?"
She gave him another look. "He's not up yet. Or maybe he's not in Hogwarts."
"Huh". Harry felt himself frown. "Is that… good?"
"Probably not, but what can we do?" Hermione grabbed two bars of the railing and put her forehead against it just like Harry. "I'm tired. I know I should feel more worried about Snape being injured like that, and maybe scold you for being reckless and aggressive, and Merlin knows I should continue to investigate Sentinels and Guides."
He remained silent, letting her find her words.
"But for once, I'm too tired to care about any of that stuff. It wasn't a supernatural event that caused this, it was just… bad timing with Ginny and the others and Snape going up the stairs just then." She sighed again. "Still, it adds up, doesn't it? I feel as if someone dropped yet another weight onto massive scales that we have to balance by ourselves."
"Hm."
"Harry, I think I need some peace and quiet."
Absently, he stretched out his arm through the railing and turned his hand randomly around in the air. He felt her pull on him clearly now, how he was sharper and more present when she was near.
His Guide.
And his girlfriend… maybe?
"Are you going to the Prefect's Bathroom later?" he asked.
Hermione turned to him. "How did you know that?"
Harry shrugged. "Intuition? I don't know. Maybe you did tell me, just not with words. I feel… so many things when you're close to me."
She began to cry.
He smelled her tears before he even saw them rolling down her cheeks, and heard how the drops moved across her soft skin. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I… " he stammered, not knowing what to do other than trying to comfort her.
"I love you, Harry," she whispered.
His heart stopped for a second as he tried to regain his senses. "Wha… we… err…"
She put a finger on his mouth and ever so softly closed it. "Don't answer. Just… accept it, please."
Harry nodded, still dazed.
Wasn't he supposed to say it back? He couldn't just let her say something like that, could he? And how would he phrase it? "Love you back" wasn't exactly dripping with romance, even to his uneducated mind.
All of which reminded him that he was completely pants in the romance department.
Just great.
"Can I… can I say something?" he asked after she'd removed her finger.
Hermione smiled as she wiped away her tears. "It depends."
"You're… the most important person in my life." Harry drew a ragged breath and wondered why that'd been so hard to say out loud. "Just so you know."
"I appreciate that, Harry."
"Okay."
They remained silent for a while, watching Professor Flitwick's progress. Somewhere down below, Argus Filch had begun to sweep away soot and debris. His angry mutterings echoed through the Grand Staircase.
Eventually, Hermione stretched out her hand through the railing and folded her fingers with his. "I have to ask you something."
"Hm?"
"Should we tell the Headmaster about… what happened in the Forbidden Forest?" Her eyes wandered to his forehead. "What you did to your Horcrux?"
The answer was pretty obvious to Harry. "No."
Hermione nodded slowly. "Why?"
"Because I don't trust him. Remember how he was hemming and hawing during our last visit? Something wasn't right. Still isn't right. I can… feel it. " Harry slightly increased the pressure of his grip on her hand. "And I don't believe for a second that Snape went after you all on his own."
"Harry, you can't think that…"
"Do we know?" He stared at her. "What do we really know? Are you willing to take that bet, Hermione? I know you're the Guide in this relationship, bit I don't think I am willing to give the benefit of the doubt to anyone right now."
In her eyes, he saw his own anger and hurt reflected back to him.
Footsteps from above broke the moment. But then Harry recognized those steps, and he smelled summer, and herbal essence. "Ah, the calvary is on its way," he joked lamely.
"How so?" Hermione turned around.
"Ginny and the others are coming down. The lockdown seems to be lifted? I bet folks already know what happened here."
She looked up. "It's really unfair how good your hearing has become."
"Yeah, that's me, all the perks of being a natural-born Wizarding World superstar, and a celebrity life on top of it," Harry deadpanned.
She let go of his hand to slap him lightly. "We never finished our conversation with them earlier," she mused. "Maybe we should do that now?"
Harry shrugged. "I can't move. McGonagall said to wait here, so I'll do just that."
"You have a really funny way of deciding when to obey a Professor's orders to the letter, and when not," Hermione said, slightly annoyed.
"Well… you could bring me a tray up here?"
"You believe Professor Flitwick will enjoy a whole crowd of us sitting at the railing?"
Harry smiled. "Oh, I believe he'll be too busy figuring out that floating debris over there to worry much about us."
Hermione's brows furrowed for a second. "I think I have a better idea," she said. "Where's the Maurauder's Map? We might also need Dobby's help."
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
7:27 am
Nevile woke up because being poked in his sides wasn't something he was used to. Thrown pillows and kicks against his bedpost didn't raise him anymore, but this was… new.
New things were potentially bad things.
His eyes opened, only to find much larger eyes staring at him from the edge of his bed.
"Whaaa!" he yelled and scooted away from the monster…
… and noted it wasn't a horrible creature from his nightmares but an elf. Not just any elf, it was Dobby. He hadn't seen the little guy in a while, but he remembered him well.
"D… Dobby?" Neville asked hesitantly.
In the background, the other boys were tossing in their beds.
Harry's bed was empty.
"I'm sorry, Mister Neville-friend-of-Harry-Potter, sir," Dobby whispered in his high-pitched voice. "I was waking you because Harry Potter asked me to do it."
"Err… Harry said to wake me up?" Nevill sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Okay? What for?"
Dobby shook his head, but then he put a finger in front of his mouth. "Shhh! Neville-friend-of Harry-Potter! We is being on a secret mission."
Neville immediately wanted to ask one or seven questions, but then he decided things would probably clear themselves once he saw Harry. If anything, being roped into some crazy scheme right now was good — at least he could ask him what in the name of Merlin's pants had happened before, and then hopefully relay the answers to Susan and Hannah.
With Harry's permission, of course.
"Yous need to be quick now," Dobby whispered again, eyeing him expectantly. "Everyone waits in the Come and Go Room."
"The what now?" Neville had decided to begin putting on clothes, but that comment made him stop.
Dobby shook his head. "Grangy-friend will explain it, once we arrive. But we must hurry, now!"
"I thought you said Harry sent you?" Neville felt more and more confused.
The elf nodded enthusiastically. "He has, with great urgency!"
"Oh, so they're both there? That's great."
But Dobby began pulling his ears. "No, no, no, 's all wrong. Grangy-friend is awaiting our return!" the elf whispered furiously.
Neville took a deep breath and massaged his forehead. It was way too early to try and decipher Dobby-Speak without Harry being present.
And in the end, it didn't matter. If he'd meet one of the wayward Gryffindors in this weird Going Room, the other was bound to be nearby.
"I'm ready."
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
7:28 am
Albus instantly woke from a dreamless sleep and felt several school wards tugging at his consciousness. How long had he been out? It couldn't be…
Only after he double checked the time did the headmaster remember casting a spell on himself to find rest after that unnerving experience of waking up in the dead of night. Harry and Hermione had done something outside the castle, likely in the Forbidden Forest.
He didn't know how or why, but the old man was sure that the temporary feeling of loss he'd felt prior was connected to whatever news was waiting for him outside his chambers.
The castle somehow felt… busy.
Yet at the same time, it was strangely quiet.
And for some reason, the enchanted portraits near his beds were empty. That'd only happened once before, in 1963, and Albus hoped he wouldn't find butterflies in the Great Hall after going down. There was too much on his plate to have a repeat of that particular desaster.
After a quick morning routine where he decided to bandage his desiccating hand, he went downstairs to his office, eager to make up for the lost time. It'd been a while since he slept so long, even on a weekend.
His thoughts were interrupted by several of the portraits behind his desk. Phineas was notably absent, though.
"Albus! There you are! Where have you been?"
"Severus Snape has been attacked! He might be dead!"
"Someone fought in the Grand Staircase, and half the castle is on fire!"
"Harry Potter turned evil while you were asleep!"
Trying to ignore his rapidly growing irritation, Albus raised his hands. "Slow down, dear colleagues, please. That can't all be true. What happened?"
At that moment, his fireplace flashed green, and a letter came flying out of it — and landed on a pile of mail on the floor that he hadn't paid attention to before.
"Founders," Albus mumbled.
"No, Albus, you need Fawkes!" one of the paintings yelled. "Severus is in danger."
The old Gryffindor nodded. Fawkes' stand was empty, though. "Fawkes?"
Nothing happened.
"Fawkes? Fawkes! I need your assistance!"
No phoenix materialized in the Headmaster's Office.
Albus drew his wand.
This wasn't good.
But, as he hurried towards the door of his office, he almost crashed into it. The door didn't open in front of him as it'd reliably done for so many years. "Open," he said with strained calm.
The doors remained thoroughly unimpressed by his command.
Meanwhile, he still felt the school wards pulling at his consciousness.
Albus' mind was racing. Something exceedingly strange was happening right now, and his presence was desperately needed outside — people might've been trying to reach him for hours! He didn't have the time to break the enchantments on his doors, though, or at least he felt hesitant to destroy such ancient spellwork.
Luckily, he still had other means of egress.
Turning on his heels, the headmaster stepped to his fireplace. "Minerva McGonagall's office!" he exclaimed as he threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames.
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
7:29 am
The moment they arrived, Neville decided that elves really knew how to facilitate Side-Along Apparition. He only stumbled slightly as they materialized in a giant room he'd never seen before. What was that odd name Dobby had used before?
It didn't matter.
"Neville! Glad to see you!" Hermione came to give him a quick hug and he felt slightly overwhelmed. "Thank you so much, Dobby."
The tiny elf almost saluted. "Grangy-friend is also Dobby's friend. Glad to be of service." He vanished without a sound.
Only then did Neville notice the enormous piles of old… stuff everywhere around him.
Tables, chairs, nightstands, lamps and lanterns, books, stacks of paper, tools, and thousands of different other things that he didn't immediately recognize.
Literal tons of crap.
"What is this place? It's enormous."
"Actually, you know it well." She smiled. "It's the Room of Requirement."
"What?!"
"Hey Neville, you guys coming over or what?" Susan's voice sounded from behind a mountain of old books. Hannah, Ginny, and Loona were also there and busy polishing off a couple of trays with breakfast that someone had brought.
"Are we having a picnic?" he wondered. "Here?"
Hermione nodded. "Something like that. Please, sit, and eat something. First, though, you need to know that Harry and Snape fought earlier in the Grand Staircase."
Neville, who'd been in the process of eating a small sausage, stopped mid-motion. "Fhcome agfhain?"
"He gave that evil git a thorough thrashing," Ginny added grimly.
"It's actually pretty bad," Hannah said. "Snape's at St. Mungo's. He was seriously wounded."
Neville swallowed his food unchewed and winced. "Are you having me on right now? Is Harry... is he okay?"
"No, and yes." Hermione gave him a serious look. "It's all true, and it's part of the reason you're here, since you tried to help Susan and Hannah find us."
"Where is Harry?"
Susan sighed and grabbed a pumpkin juice pitcher. "Still at the crime scene, so to speak. He's been ordered to stay where the fight happened until Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore come and get him."
"And that hasn't happened yet?" Neville tried to remain calm. He'd never imagined that anything he'd ever experienced would compare to that night in the halls of the Department of Mysteries. Now he wasn't so sure anymore.
"No. Dumbledore hasn't been seen for hours, and our Head of House is still at St. Mungo's."
Neville looked around. None of the other girls appeared as if this was news to them. But they made an effort to include him, and he liked that feeling he'd developed during their unsuccessful hunt for Harry and Hermione.
To be involved, to… matter.
"So, what's the plan?" he asked.
"Harry and I… we don't believe that we can trust the adults in the castle right now." Hermione looked down on the dusty floor they were sitting on. "Someone doesn't want us to know about what's happening to Harry, and to me."
Neville frowned. "To you? Are your senses hyperactive as well?"
"No, dummy, she's his Guide," Ginny said.
"What's…"
"Just listen, alright?"
Hermione smiled at their exchange the same way Harry often did. "What I'd like to ask you if you're willing, is to be Harry's and mine safety net. In case someone tries to obliviate me again, or Harry, even though I'm not sure that'll work against him right now, we need to…"
"Oh." Neville stared at the bushy-haired witch as some pieces of a giant puzzle fell into place. "Snape tried to obliviate you, didn't he? That's why that tosser wasn't present when Harry found you wandering outside barefoot and that's probably why they fought on the stairs!"
Hannah and Susan exchanged a look, eyebrows raised. "That was quick," Susan said.
"Told you he's sharper than he lets on," Hannah mumbled.
Ginny waved them off. "So you're going to tell us what you know in case you're obliviated so that we'll be able to help you afterward?"
"Almost." Hermione leaned over to her beaded handbag and rummaged inside. Then she removed a few books and notes. "I thought we'd make copies of my findings."
A collective groan answered her and she winced.
"Please?"
"Okay, okay… but you owe us a real explanation, Hermione." Susan pulled out one of the notes. "I've been running up and down this castle like a crazy person for the past two days, not to mention the detention we got for our troubles."
"I appreciate that, I really do. It's all so…" Hermione stopped talking.
"Complicated?" Hannah offered.
The Gryffindor witch nodded. "That's an apt description." She pulled out ink and quills. "Tell you what, if you're willing to help me make a few copies of the things I wrote down so far, I can multitask and answer any questions you might have."
"If you're a Guide and Harry's a Sentinel, what does that mean, exactly?" Ginny immediately asked without missing a beat.
Hermione took a deep breath. "Maybe not every single question…"
Neville raised an arm. "Can I ask why we're sitting between piles of old junk, then? What happened to our training room?"
"Oh, that's an interesting one. See, Dobby was the first one to tell Harry about the Room of Requirement, and it appears that it has different… configurations." She made an all-encompassing motion. "We only learned of this one earlier about an hour ago, when Dobby mentioned it."
"Who'd want a room like this?" Hannah looked around. "Neville's right, this place is a dump."
Hermione's smile turned almost impish. "Well, did you never have something on your hands that you wanted to get rid of? Or hide? Maybe desperately so?"
"Oh." Hannah nodded slowly.
"Precisely."
Neville looked at everyone in turn. "I don't get it."
"I haven't told you about Malfoy yet." Hermione reached into her bag again and removed the Marauder's Map, which she gently put on the floor so that everyone could see it. "Do you remember when Harry was suspicious about him being up to no good?"
Susan grunted. "That doesn't exactly narrow it down…"
"Malfoy's been looking almost ill these past weeks, and he often vanishes, alone. Harry followed him via the Marauder's Map and saw him use the Room of Requirement more than once."
"Damn, the ferret knows? That's bad!"
Ginny hmm'ed. "We should be glad that this didn't all happen during Umbitch's reign."
"And you think Malfoy uses this… configuration of the room?" Neville asked.
"It's a possibility. Harry and I have been so busy with existential crises and nervous breakdowns and spiritual awakenings that we kind of forgot about him, and now that time is of the essence, I thought why not catch two birds with one stone."
"So you expect that Malfoy might come here at any moment, to do… something?" Susan looked around. "Is that why we're not sitting in line of sight to the door?"
"Yes." Hermione pointed to a name tag in the Great Hall. "He's having breakfast right now, but with Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall still being absent, he might try and sneak up here."
Again, Neville felt slightly overwhelmed. On one hand, it was great to be included in all these life-shattering events, but listening to Hermione almost made him dizzy. How could any one person other than Dumbledore string so many things together in their mind?
"What is our plan?" Ginny asked. "Stun him and put him in one of the old cabinets here?"
"First we need to find out what he's actually doing when he comes here. If he even comes to this… version of the room, that is. We suspect he might try and bring Death Eaters to Hogwarts. Or something equally terrible."
"Death Eaters?" Neville reached for his wand. "Merlin."
"Maybe. Like so many things, we don't know for sure."
Hannah grabbed one of Hermione's quills. "Then we shouldn't waste time."
"Just one more thing," Susan added. "What did you mean by spiritual awakening?"
Hermione started blushing.
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
7:35 am
Harry smelled the Potions Professor's robes long before he saw the rotund Slytherin coming up the stairs. Slughorn didn't hide his curiosity and inspected the property damage around him with wide eyes — Professor Flitwick's efforts were still ongoing.
Apparently, repairing parts of the castle wasn't as easy as with any other random medieval building because Hogwarts was literally soaked in magic.
That's at least what Harry had taken away from the tiny Ravenclaw's mumblings.
"I can see you already did a lot of work, Filius," Slughorn said as he arrived on the landing.
"It's fascinating, to be honest." The tiny man continued to wave his wand. "I've never had the chance to analyze the castle's structure quite like this. I need to be both gentle and firm with my Charms."
Slughorn nodded. "The Arcane Balance of Archimedes' Bindings."
"Would you like to give me a hand? I understand everyone's still busy until Albus returns from wherever he is, but…"
"Oh, Albus is back. He never left Hogwarts but was… delayed?" The way the Slytherin said the word sounded to Harry as if the man didn't quite believe the headmaster's explanation.
He remembered what Hermione had told him about the Slughorn helping her by giving her Ossinsky's book. Maybe he was looking at an ally? If he'd be able to stomach the simpering, that is.
"That's good news, Horace. He's probably on his way then?"
Slughorn nodded. "As far as I know, he left to check on Severus but intends to return post haste."
"Good, good."
"Is Mister Potter here, by the way? I was told he was ordered to remain somewhere around here."
Professor Flitwick pointed up to Harry's dangling legs.
"Good morning, Professor." Harry waved neutrally.
"Is that safe, Harry?" Slughorn began climbing the remaining steps. "I'm sure your Head of House would've something to say about sprawling against the railing like that."
"Leave him be, Horace," Professor Flitwick said. "He hasn't moved an inch since I got here."
"Alright, I was just making a point." Slughorn breathed heavily as he reached the fourth floor and turned around to approach Harry. "You can sit, Harry, m'boy."
The man then seemed to notice the empty breakfast tray next to Harry.
"Ah, I see you still prioritize even in these troubling times! Nothing should come between a wizard and a hearty meal." Slughorn chuckled. "If anything, you might've earned a rest, eh? I won't tell anyone."
Harry didn't know what to make of that. The Slytherin was surprisingly hard to read because his increased heartbeat was probably caused by the stairs and the nervousness he detected was the same the man had displayed in his presence ever since that botched attempt to recover the stupid memory.
What did Slughorn want from him?
The man stopped in front of him and looked over the railing. "What a curious thing," he said, nodding to the floating debris.
"I have no idea how that happened, Professor," Harry said truthfully.
"Well, you rarely do ordinary things, do you? Ah, again you remind me of your mother…" Slughorn sighed and shook his head.
"Do you need something from me?"
But the Slytherin waved Harry off. "Founders, no. I was in fact hoping to provide you with something, m'boy."
Intrigued, Harry watched the man look around to make sure they were alone and then cast a Muffliato Charm that wouldn't even reach Professor Flitwick's ears due to the distance. He knew there was no one around to spy on them, just a few curious students peering down from the higher floors every now and then.
"Harry, I need to warn you," Slughorn pressed as he looked down at him.
Harry felt the need to finally stand up. His back cracked as he stretched himself slightly, and suddenly he was overcome by a feeling of exhaustion. After this day, he'd be ready to sleep for a week or so.
"What are you speaking of?" he asked.
Slughorn looked around them again. "The Headmaster will come to see you soon, and I… I think you shouldn't tell him about what you know of Sentinels. He already knows that I gave Miss Granger a book, and he didn't like that."
Harry stared into the man's eyes and found a surprising amount of resolve there. "Why are you trying to help me?"
"I have my reasons." Slughorn nodded to him. "I know you came to me for that memory on behalf of Albus. This has nothing to do with that, however. No, if you really are a Sentinel, then that… that would give me hope."
"Hope, sir?"
The Slytherin eyed him critically. "There are things in the past I believe should stay forgotten. But this… you… no, I won't stand for it." He looked around again. "I must leave you now, Harry. I hope you and Miss Granger will find the answers you need. Something tells me that we might have another talk in the future. Until then, stay safe."
Slughorn patted Harry's shoulder, nodded as if he was satisfied with what he saw, and waddled back to the stairs. "Filius, you probably haven't eaten anything since the dead of night. I'll see that you get some breakfast," the Potions Professor exclaimed.
"Oh, thank you, Horace."
Harry looked down at the men and absently rubbed his shoulder.
What the hell had just happened?
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
7:51 am
While everyone around him was busy discussing the insane rumors about an epic battle in the Grand Staircase, Lane Bitterwood was busy writing a letter. He'd put his Transfiguration books on the table for cover so that folks wouldn't look too close since he was known to be an overachiever in McGonagall's class.
The message he penned was short, but it was important to get the chiffre right so Lane took his time and carefully ran his quill across the small piece of parchment.
He still listened to what everyone else at the Slytherin table was saying, though.
Most of it was rubbish.
Still, Potter and Granger were absent again, and his Head of House was nowhere to be seen — just like the headmaster. Malfoy had even dared to peek inside Snape's office earlier since the door had been left open.
Also, nobody had been able to check the Grand Staircase on the third floor since it'd been closed to traffic. Lane had only heard about a supposedly brand-new staircase that was used as a bypass for students who needed to reach the upper floors, but he planned to check it out later.
First, though, his cousin needed to know about the current goings-on. The Dark Lord had to be warned, or rather informed of what was going on. If Snape was really in St. Mungo's, someone else needed to relay information from inside the castle.
An opportunity like this wouldn't come along often.
Maybe the Dark Lord would take notice of Lane that way.
After finishing the final line of his coded message, Lane blew on the drying ink and then folded the parchment. "I'll get some fresh air," he said to the nearby Slytherins.
"You're not allowed to wander outside until the Headmaster is back, Bitterwood." Maya, one of the prefects, pointed at him with her fork.
"I won't run off into the Forbidden Forest, for Merlin's sake. Just the owlery." He rolled his eyes dramatically and removed the folded parchment from his pocket. "I need to send a letter to my family. My mum is sick, and I need to know how she's doing. Is that alright with you, Miss Prefect?"
"Whatever." She gave him the evil eye. "If one of the Professors catches you, I will deny knowing anything about it."
He smiled venomously. "Thanks for nothing, then."
Lane left the table and strolled towards Hogwarts' great doors.
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
8:19 am
Before he saw the headmaster coming down the stairs, Harry heard a faint whooshing sound and felt a tiny increase of pressure on his eardrums. Had someone just apparated inside the castle?
That couldn't be.
Then he felt the impact of heavy steps coming through the floor he was again sitting on. It originated from somewhere above, only he didn't hear the steps themselves.
Instinctively, he grabbed his wand and stood up.
Then he recognized a familiar smell of lemon drops and hid his wand in the back pocket of his jeans.
At the same time, Dumbledore came into view as he was silently sprinting down the stairs with billowing robes faster than anyone should be able to, especially in his old age. Harry's senses picked up the shimmer of unknown Charms, though, and he suspected the headmaster had granted himself increased speed and agility.
Dumbledore took in the scenery for a second. "Filius, I'm here," he said.
"I'm glad, Albus." Professor Flitwick appeared unbothered about the headmaster's sudden appearance. "Is everything alright? How is Severus?"
"He's fine. It was a good thing Minerva and Poppy brought him to St. Mungo's, though."
"I see."
Harry was about to say something when Dumbledore turned around and looked right at him, showing that he knew exactly where Harry was. "Har… Mister Potter."
"Headmaster."
Dumbledore's face remained completely neutral. "Please follow me, we have to talk about what happened between you and Professor Snape."
"Of course." For a moment, Harry considered asking if his Head of House was informed about him leaving this very spot but now wasn't the time to be cheeky. He'd go along with everything, for now, and he suspected it was partly because deep down, despite his anger, he felt a little bit… guilty.
Something about Hermione's disapproval had stuck with him, even though he knew that she knew the violence had been justified, in a way.
"I assume Madame Pomfrey has checked on you before she left?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
Dumbledore took a deep breath. "So it would seem. Nevertheless, if you'd allow me…?" He was holding his wand now.
Harry felt wary but didn't see how the headmaster would do anything to him out here in the open. There were currently eleven students looking down from high above, their faint whispers echoing through the Grand Staircase. "Of course," he said.
Wordlessly, Dumbledore flicked his wand at him and Harry felt how the grime on his skin and clothes vanished. It was more than a simple Scourgify Charm, and despite his sensitivity to foreign magic, it didn't feel unpleasant.
"Thank you."
The headmaster nodded. "You're welcome, Mister Potter. Now, after you." He didn't point toward the stairs going up but Harry still noticed that Dumbledore's right hand had been bandaged since he'd last seen the man.
As he suddenly smelled what was underneath the white strips of cloth, Harry knew that Dumbledore was being eaten alive by dark magic. That was a Horcrux's taint, he was sure of it.
Yet another secret, and a worrisome at that.
"Filius, please take a rest soon. Someone else can take over the repairs, you should look after your students and get something to eat," Dumbledore said to Professor Flitwick in parting.
"I will, I will, let me just fix this one balcony over there first."
"As you wish."
They ascended the stairs in silence, and the students above them vanished from view. Harry still sensed them in various hiding spots, trying to get a good look at him and the Headmaster on their way up. He picked up whispered words like "killer", "trouble", or "finally", and tried not to read too much into it.
It was like Hogwarts' rumor mill to always twist things for the worse.
As they neared the gargoyles in front of the Headmaster's Office, Harry realized that he hadn't heard Dumbledore's footsteps or his heartbeat along the way and turned around. The old man was standing right behind him, looking him straight in the eyes.
"Why have you silenced your steps?" Harry dared to ask.
"Due to the emergency I found myself in this morning, I had to improve my speed," Dumbledore answered. "Alas, the Charm I used does a variety of things, stealth being one of them. I didn't need it but had no time to find an alternative solution."
"Ah." That sounded both plausible and vaguely suspicious, Harry decided.
Dumbledore motioned towards the gargoyles. "Would you mind?"
"Oh, sorry." He turned around and approached the statues, who immediately turned to the side. As he walked up the stairs, Harry looked at the door in front of him. "If you don't mind me asking, Headmaster, why did you remove the password?"
"I'm trying to figure something out," Dumbledore said.
The door to the office opened in front of Harry and they both stepped inside.
Harry noted that all the portraits were awake and staring at him. In front of the fireplace, dozens of letters had piled up. Fawkes wasn't on his stand, and there were no ashes either. In the background, Dumbledore's strange little devices purred and puffed.
Unbidden, Harry took a seat in front of the headmaster's desk and folded his hands.
Dumbledore strode towards his large chair and sat down gingerly, wordlessly dismissing the Charms that'd made him so quiet.
Without command, the door closed itself.
The old man and the boy regarded each other.
"Why did you try to kill Professor Snape this morning," Dumbledore eventually said in a grave voice.
"It didn't plan to kill him. But I had to confront him for what he did to Hermione, and things… escalated." Harry tried to imagine Hermione sitting by his side, holding his hand, to anchor him. He couldn't lose his focus now, he had to stay sharp.
"What do you believe Professor Snape did to Miss Granger?"
He couldn't help but grunt quietly. "He attempted to obliviate her in the owlery, only it didn't work. Something threw him off her, and she was left dazed and confused outside, wandering into the Forbidden Forest." Harry resisted the impulse to clench his fists. "Without her wand or her shoes, as you will recall."
"I do," Dumbledore said. "I don't however recall Professor Snape being outside at that time. He was in fact in his chambers, feeling unwell."
"I wonder why."
The headmaster shook his head. "This is a serious accusation, Mister Potter. Do you have any proof?"
"How about we check Snape's wand? That should clear things up fast, I believe. Not only will you find an Obliviate in there, but you'll also see what sort of spells I had to dodge in the Grand Staircase. If anything, he tried to kill me."
"Something… is different about you," Dumbledore said randomly.
"What do you mean, Headmaster?"
The old man pointed at Harry's head. "Your scar. It appears to be fading." Then his face hardened as if something had just occurred to him. "Harry… What did you do? What did you do yesterday, in the Forbidden Forest? I know you were outside, with Miss Granger."
Feeling a bit vindictive, Harry decided to play coy. "I don't know if I can adequately explain that."
"I need an answer, Harry, I need to… what did you do? What happened to your scar? Did you meet Voldemort?" Dumbledore seemed to be in shock.
"No." He decided to not make a fuss about the use of his first name right now. "I didn't."
"Are you sure? Would you even remember?" The headmaster pointed at his temple, looking at Harry. "Our thoughts are easily corrupted, easily fooled. Not so long ago you were quite overwhelmed by your new… sensitivity to your surroundings."
"Well, you helped me with that, didn't you?"
"And yet I don't see the Charm on you, Harry. As remarkable as your mental focus is, it leaves you vulnerable."
Harry vividly remembered how vulnerable his reliance on that Charm had made him, but decided not to comment on it. Dumbledore shouldn't be privy to all his thoughts.
The old man seemed to take his silence as acceptance. "In fact, I'm wondering if your confrontation with Professor Snape only escalated as it did because you didn't wear that Charm. Can you reliably say you've been in control of your senses?"
Anger rose within Harry, and he fought to suppress it. "I am of sound mind," he said. "I know what I see, or smell, or hear."
"And your scar?" Dumbledore's eyes wandered to Harry's forehead again. "Why won't you tell me what you did? Or is it that you don't know yourself?"
The quick change of topic felt exhausting, and even though he suspected it to be a deliberate tactic, Harry felt how his resolve weakened slightly. He was still exhausted, after all.
"I'm not sure I want to tell you, Headmaster," he said. He was tired of beating around the bush any longer.
Dumbledore frowned. "Why?"
"Because you've decided that me being a Sentinel is dangerous and that I shouldn't know anything about it. Like you've been keeping me in the dark about the Horcruxes."
A few of the portraits gasped at his words, which made the following silence in the office even more deafening. Harry didn't even register the array of annoying devices anymore.
Dumbledore stared at him, seemingly lost.
Harry waited. His mind was whirling with all the things said and unsaid, his suspicions about the headmaster's true plans and also his worries about how they could go on from here. Having Dumbledore as an enemy wasn't really something he wanted. There had to be a way to make the man see reason if only to buy Hermione more time to figure things out.
Finally, the headmaster leaned back into his armchair. "How long have you known that Severus was a Death Eater?" he asked.
"Err… what?" Harry was flabbergasted.
"It only makes sense, if you know about the Horcruxes. You probably can sense it on their arms, can't you? Yes, the Dark Mark's magic would be hard to miss in comparison." Dumbledore sighed and appeared to age in front of Harry's eyes. "I have to admit, this I didn't see coming."
"I... you're wrong, Headmaster. I didn't know Snape was a Death Eater. Are you serious right now?" Harry couldn't believe it, even though he was sure Dumbledore wasn't acting right now and had handed him proof of his long-held suspicions. "I always suspected he was one. Your defense of him, saying he worked for Voldemort without ever clearing in what capacity… or that conversation with Karkaroff… and him telling Malfoy about success by learning the Dark Arts." Harry slowly rubbed his nose. It felt strange to see something he'd believed in for so long validated by accident.
The old man and the boy regarded each other again.
Harry felt his resolve coming back, now that Dumbledore had made some sort of blunder. It hadn't been the headmaster's plan to tell him this, that much was clear. But what line of thought had made him do it, then? Had the headmaster overestimated him just now? What assumptions lay underneith the things he's just heard spoken out loud?
Maybe another round of hard truths would clear things up.
"How about I show you what happened between Snape and me in the Grand Staircase?" Harry offered. "We can look at it in your Pensieve."
Dumbledore hesitated, then nodded. "If you agree to provide a memory, I'd appreciate that. If only to decide how to protect you from the Ministry, because make no mistake, someone will take note of Severus being at St. Mungo's and the rumors already flowing out of this school."
Harry didn't care much for Dumbledore's supposed protection at this point, but it was a salient point nonetheless. Knowing how quick the Ministry could act if it wanted to, he wondered if his meeting with Remus at noon was still in the cards.
That is if he'd be allowed off the Hogwarts premises to begin with.
"Let me show you," he said, ignoring Dumbledore's implied warning for the moment.
They walked over to the ancient device and Harry watched the reflections in the shallow bowl. It reminded him of Hermione — something about water in general, he mused.
"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked, wand in hand.
"Yes, go on."
Harry mentally went back to a few hours earlier, when he'd sensed Snape on the stairs, and tried to remember everything he'd picked up, all the things he'd sensed and said. He felt Dumbledore's magic touch his mind and allowed it to draw his memories in.
At that exact moment, the headmaster's wand began to… sizzle.
Dumbledore immediately withdrew it to and inspected it. "I believe that's enough to see what you remember," he said evenly.
Harry noticed a whiff of scorched wood and… Thestral hair? What a strange material for a wand core. And why in Merlin's name had he almost set that thing on fire just now?
With a million new questions on his mind he watched Dumbledore pour his silvery memories into the Pensieve.
"It begins just when I heard Snape on the stairs from the Gryffindor Common Room," Harry explained.
"Show me."
