4:31 am
Time seemed to slow down the moment Harry vaulted over the balcony.
He knew exactly where Snape was right now — between the second floor and the first landing on the way up to the third floor. The man was running, his heartbeat so fast he must've raced all the way from his chambers in the dungeons, and he smelled of sour sweat.
Snape was running as if he was being chased by a thousand Dementors.
Under his fingertips, Harry sensed the infinitesimal vibrations that the Slytherin's panicked strides caused within the structure of the Grand Staircase and the surrounding walkways and balconies.
On his skin, he felt movements in the air caused by the man down below as well as two other students on the first and on the fifth floor. Somewhere above him, Peeves, who'd probably been waiting to prank a few late Gryffindors, had just decided to get out of this part of the castle post haste, and Harry felt a stir caused by the ghost's ethereal movement.
His hyper-focused mind took note of this curious detail and filed it away, something to ask Hermione about later.
No time to waste, he had to move.
Harry didn't land on the stairs below but on the railing, which he slid down effortlessly to jump over the next landing. Despite his speed, he was able to deliberately place his hands and feet where they needed to be — parcouring through the Grand Staircase felt as natural to him right now as flying.
He grabbed the railing on the far end of the landing and used it as a lever to flip himself over and around it, dropping an entire level. The moment his feet were about to touch the hard floor, he pushed himself forward and rolled over his shoulder to lessen the impact. Oliver Wood had been quite insane, but Harry would never stop thanking the former student for teaching him the basics of falling down properly.
It took him three long jumps to take the next flight of stairs going down, and, feeling his adrenaline rising, Harry used the far wall as a springboard to round the next landing even faster.
His momentum had developed its own draw upon Harry now. He was in the flow, moving, always moving.
Some of the portraits were waking up to complain about the ruckus, but he ignored them. He could hear the magic in their voices, sensing how artificial they really were, like a bad tape recording.
In the time that he'd cleaned more than two floors, Snape had just reached the next landing.
Harry had already decided to not stop and pounce the man from the shadows but just barrel right into him. It might not be the most sound strategy all things considered — Snape was freakishly good with his wand if he needed to — but something within him lusted for physical violence.
He recognized that he didn't just care about being wounded or not, no, he'd rather welcome being hurt right now. Because physical pain was better than the emotional anguish he felt at the very idea of Hermione being obliviated.
Snape would bleed for that and no amount of sneering and dismissive reasoning about things too complex for his feeble mind to comprehend would stop it. Sometimes, an insult had to be repaid with injury.
Still moving, faster and faster.
Harry was also aware of Hermione above, running after him. She didn't call out to him, knowing he'd be able to locate her with ease anyway, but she was probably mad that he'd get himself in trouble on her behalf. He heard her drawing her wand as she took the first steps down, Susan and the others on her heels.
Now that she was so prominent on his mind again, Harry also noticed her immediate and calming influence on his abilities as he slid down another railing, His rage and the yearning to hunt down Snape didn't diminish but the edge of his vision became less jagged and hazy, his instinctive bloodlust slightly tempered by reflection. He still wanted to run straight into Snape if possible but now he was imagining what his very next move after that might be, instead of just completely going with the flow.
His racing mind even had time to express a feeling of vertigo now that his Guide was directly above and his prey was directly below, with him smack in the middle of those two pushing and pulling influences.
And somehow, that felt just right.
The sharp perception of an upside-down balance passed as Harry sped down another flight of stairs, jumped, and rolled off the next landing. He still felt anchored though, and that gave him strength.
All the while he was moving.
Snape was close now, he could hear the man's greasy hair scratch at his robes as he ran, smell that he must have pissed himself and then tried to vanish it. Harry even felt, just by air movements from down below, that his prey was holding a small vial or bottle in his left hand.
He'd see him any moment now, knowing they'd meet on the first landing going up from the third floor. Following a spontaneous impulse, Harry decided not to run straight into Snape but let the man run into him.
He somersaulted over the railing at his side, drew his wand mid-air, and landed in a crouched pose on the landing — just in front of Snape.
The man jerked back but was too slow to react in his panic, so when he took the final two steps he raced right into Harry's outstretched hand that was aimed at his throat. He felt Snape's sweaty skin, tendons, and Adam's apple against his knuckles, and quickly turned halfway to not be hit by the falling man's legs.
Harry felled the Head of House Slytherin within the blink of an eye and watched dispassionately as his prey hit his head hard on the stone floor, his limbs thrashing as the man gasped for air.
Movement ceased for a moment, and the hunt was over.
Instead, violence was in the air.
Harry felt the wood of his wand, felt how his fingers touched hundreds of minor imperfections on its grip, all the scratches that spoke of years of deadly adventures. His magic began to bubble up and flow out of him. He didn't stop it, knowing the well inside him was going to burst otherwise.
Part of his energy flew up, towards Hermione who was racing down, and Harry noted how the hairs on his arms and legs stood up as he stood in a temporary vortex caused by his Guide.
That was new.
Snape, still out of breath, rolled to the side and then backward, using the first steps going below as leverage to stand up with his face turned toward Harry. It spoke of years of defense training. His watering eyes focused on Harry and narrowed.
Then, without warning, Snape made two quick motions with his wand.
Harry dodged the first nonverbal spell easily but was surprised by the second one because it didn't come as a single blast but a thin, wide arc — his shoulder got hit even as he tumbled away as fast as possible.
Intense pain spread through his body and Harry grunted as he felt the nerves in his wand arm being lit on fire. He was about to cast Quietus Animus on himself but disregarded the thought when he realized he could still use his arm.
It was just magically induced pain, almost unbearable in its intensity. Like a minor Cruciatus.
His muscles were actually fine.
Not knowing how he did it, Harry instinctively separated part of his mindscape and pushed the pain into the smaller part, to shut it out, lock it away. Something poured out and away from him, into the vortex and up towards Hermione, and he knew he'd done it.
Somehow.
Only a second of real time had passed.
Returning the silent treatment, Harry whirled around and went down to his knees to fire three harmless blasts toward Snape in rapid succession. As the final blast exited his wand, he preemptively dodged to the side and cast a Shield Charm.
"Protego!"
Snape, who'd deflected Harry's attacks with an erratic motion of his wand the latter had never seen before — the blasts impacted loudly on the surrounding walls — returned fire.
"Stupefy!" The Slytherin's voice croaked terribly thanks to his bruised throat but the command echoed sharply in the Grand Staircase.
Harry was glad to have followed his instincts. He decided to try and trick Snape, not expecting immediate success but to establish a pattern he could exploit a few moments from now. "Expelliarmus!"
Snape moved his wand arm out of the way but stayed in position, three steps down from the landing, staring at Harry.
"Harry, stop! Stop fighting!" Hermione's voice echoed from above as she ran down the stairs with Susan, Hannah, Ginny, and Neville in tow.
Their footsteps were still far above the third floor, though.
Harry noted how pieces of stone and plaster were falling from the walls around them, raining down and filling the Grand Staircase with faint echoes from below. The air smelled of magic cast in anger.
"Listen to them, Potter," Snape spat. "I don't know what madness to hold of your feeble brain this time, but you will…"
Harry angled his head. "Stupefy!" he replied.
"Stop it!" Snape hissed, dodging the spell. "Or I will put you down, Potter."
"Petrificus Totalus!" Another tame spell, to continue the pattern.
"Depulso!" Snape's wand moved really fast, despite the man's visible exhaustion. Harry didn't dodge, though, but used his own wand to redirect the Charm over his shoulder. The wall behind him shook and several portraits called out as two frames fell down and vanished from sight.
"Expelliarmus!"
Snape escalated, and Harry noted that the man's heartbeat spiked at the same time, almost as if he either found the very act exhilarating, or as if he was afraid. "Glacius! Confringo!"
Harry tripped on the suddenly slippy landing, but his supernatural reflexes allowed him to hold himself upright with his left arm. He used his momentum to whirl around, almost like a breakdancer, to fire at Snape from below and then tumble to the side and onto his feet. "Stupefy!"
He caught Snape's chest and the man shortly vanished from sight as he was pushed down the stairs. But Harry hadn't taken more than two breaths when he saw him return, this time coming up all the way to the landing, the tip of his wand unerringly aimed at Harry's center of mass. "Ligatura Tenebris!"
Harry narrowly avoided dark tendrils that tried to grapple him and heard the already damaged railing behind him crumble as it was hit instead.
"Diffindo! Reducto!" he fired back. Snape ducked away and the Grand Staircase boomed with another impact.
"Ventus Vortex!" Debris was thrown up by the sudden whirlwind that surrounded Harry but he didn't try to dodge or dispel it — the flow of his outpouring magic was still strong and he simply dedicated part of his focus to tracking every chunk of stone currently flowing through the air. Unconsciously, he moved his leg to the side when a fist-sized rock flew along, and he saw Snape's pupils widen at his display of control.
The man reacted immediately, though, and aimed his wand down at the landing itself. "Sonorus!"
The sudden loudness caused Harry's vision to blur and he almost lost focus, but soldiered on. "Reducto!"
Snape yelped as he was showered by shards when part of the staircase exploded behind him. Harry wasn't done yet. "Fulgaris!" Lightning arced from his wand and caught the Slytherin straight in the right leg.
As he momentarily lost control of his limbs and went down, Snape yelped "Exanimo!" His aiming was surprisingly accurate but Harry never felt the Curse impact, it instead simply evaporated in front of him. Its glowing remains flew upward, following the flow of energy that Hermione was absorbing.
His Guide being at work, it seemed.
"Bombarda! Bombarda Maxima!" Snape croaked from the ground where he tried to stop his limbs from shaking. Harry whirled around and ducked three large pieces of debris simultaneously as his surroundings exploded.
The Grand Staircase boomed and echoed.
Harry winced, but he already knew what he'd do now and how his actions would sequence. Snape still tried to get up but he'd be too slow. Time seemed to slow down again as adrenaline rushed through his veins. He pretended to attack with another curse, swinging his wand widely, only to switch hands when its tip was aiming at Snape and cast something else instead.
"Expelliarmus!"
The Slytherin lost his wand but Harry just stepped aside as it came towards him and let it fall down into the open space behind him. He took one step toward Snape and pointed his wand at his right hand. "Telum," he whispered.
Then he sucker-punched Snape into his guts, the spell causing the impact of his fist to widen to more than one meter. An audible crack went through the Grand Staircase, and Harry heard bones break and organs being squashed. A cloud ring of dust and debris formed around them as the force of his attack dissipated to the sides.
Slowly, he returned his hand.
It was over.
The depression that'd formed underneath Snape was filling up with blood and Harry found that the faint trickling sounds somehow reminded him of the pond in the Forbidden Forest. His anger dissipated the same way his Horcrux-self had when he'd drowned it and was absorbed by Hermione above.
Harry felt his focus decrease as she arrived with the rest of the group.
Around them, the castle woke up. Portraits raised alarm, and doors were opening.
He'd killed — or rather almost killed — a Professor of Hogwarts, and Harry knew there'd be fallout. But at this moment, he didn't care. All that mattered was that he'd shown Snape he wouldn't tolerate the man's actions any longer.
Hogwarts was his home. His, not Snape's.
"Harry! Are you alright? What… oh no." Hermione jumped across a few missing steps of the stairs above and landed next to him. The touch of her hand on Harry's back felt like scorching fire, yet it soothed him.
"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Really, it's okay."
Ginny swallowed audibly above them. "Merlin, Harry…"
"It had to be done."
Hermione knelt beside Snape. "He's… still alive. But we need Madame Pomfrey, now." Then she turned to Harry, her face strangely unreadable as she masked her emotions.
Harry senses that she is upset, and angry. Her irises narrowed, and her heartbeat slowed down notably. He heard her tongue move inside her mouth as she mentally built the sentences she'd speak to him next.
She smelled so lovely compared to the carnage around him.
Snape's breathing stopped.
"Harry! He needs help, now!"
"Harry!"
"Harry?!"
"Haaaarrry!"
He was confused since he knew it wasn't how that scene had ended, Hermione hadn't called his name like that but instead...
The moment dissolved into vague shapes and silvery mist of swirls inside the Pensieve.
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
8:23 am
Harry felt Dumbledore's left hand on his shoulders as he was being dragged out of the memory. The Headmaster hadn't done that on purpose though — he was falling unconscious, blood pouring out of his nose and ears. Letting his reflexes take over, Harry caught Dumbledore and let him down, gently.
"Dammit," he mumbled.
Dumbledore's heart was beating slowly but Harry could almost hear the man's mind short-circuiting underneath his hat. Something in that memory had completely overwhelmed him. He noticed the stench of Dumbledore's desiccating right hand and saw that the bandage had partially fallen off. Yeah, that taint was definitely caused by a Horcrux, he'd recognize that nasty impression any time.
"What did you do?" He repeated the Headmaster's words from before.
He needed to help him.
Harry rushed to Dumbledore's desk and turned to the portraits. "Dumbledore's fallen unconscious," he said. "Is there something here to help him, or do I just call Madame Pomfrey."
The former heads of Hogwarts immediately began admonishing him for being reckless or a bringer of misfortune, or bickered among themselves. There was an older woman with long gray hair who eyed Harry critically, though. Her portrait frame labeled her as Gillian Slorah.
"Go to the left side of his desk, and open the cabinet. Second drawer from the top, there should be three identical potions. Feed him one of those, quickly."
Harry nodded and followed her commands, ignoring the other portraits. He grabbed one of the three vials and saw that they were some form of Pepperup Potion.
Giving Headmistress Slorah another nod, he rushed back to Dumbledore and carefully poured the liquid into the old man's mouth.
As he held Dumbledore's head, Harry felt his fingertips prickle.
Something in the back of his mind woke, something primal that'd gone to sleep after the fight with Snape.
Rival, it screamed at him.
Opponent.
Danger.
The impulse was so strong that Harry stumbled backward, letting go of the potion vial as Dumbledore's ears emitted steam and the Headmaster woke with a shuddering gasp.
There was a pressure in the office now, the very air suddenly stiff and oppressive.
Harry's eardrums crackled.
Then he felt it all over his body.
Dumbledore's magic was pouring out of him like a spring. The Headmaster's bloodshot eyes, unfocused at first, fixed the ceiling above and then moved to Harry in one motion. He saw how those blue eyes took in every detail of his face, how the pupils focused on pores in Harry's skin, and the tiny cracks of the fading scar on his forehead.
He saw Dumbledore's nose widen at the smells of battle on Harry's robes.
Saw how the man moved his fingers almost imperceptibly over the floorboards of his office to feel the marks left by thousands of boots over the centuries.
His animalistic side hissed.
Another Sentinel, right here, in front of him.
In Hogwarts. His home.
Foreigner.
Intruder.
Enemy.
But just as Harry was about to raise his wand, Dumbledore's eyes glazed over as a well-practiced mask of Occlumency shut everything down inside the man. The oppressive feeling in the office stopped so instantly that Harry gasped at the backlash.
"It's okay, Harry," the Headmaster said and raised himself. "Thank you for helping me. It seems the intensity of your memories was a bit… overwhelming."
He stared at Dumbledore, trying to find cracks in the mask he was seeing now, waiting for a sign of falsehood, of turmoil behind the pretend-calm exterior the man presented. But even his supernatural senses didn't pick up anything.
The Sentinel he'd so clearly seen and felt was just gone.
"Are… what are you?" Harry whispered, his wand still partially raised.
"What do you mean, Harry?" Dumbledore smoothed his robes and readjusted his glasses.
"I saw you just now, Headmaster. You… you are like me!"
The old man gave him a curious look. "I appreciate the compliment, but nothing could be further from the truth, Harry. I'm neither as young nor as brave or talented as you are."
Harry swallowed an angry reply since he didn't know if the Headmaster was fucking with him right now or if he maybe really wasn't aware — however impossible that might seem. "You are hypersensitive, I sensed your focus on my face. Just now. Don't deny it."
Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. While I'd love to claim some level of proficiency in the art of observation, I'm nowhere near your ability to sense minute details, Harry."
"But…"
The Headmaster raised a hand, and Harry stopped. "While I appreciate your concern and your yearning for answers that someone with the same capabilities as you might be able to provide, I'm afraid we must return to the business at hand."
Sentinels were off the menu for now, it seemed.
"From what I observed…" Dumbledore stopped momentarily to touch his forehead as he stared off into space. "It seems that you attacked Professor Snape without provocation, Harry. That's not just something I can't let slide."
"Did you also see what he threw at me? He tried to drown me in my deepest sorrows!" Harry's anger returned. "That spell should be an Unforgivable! Not to mention his attempt to claw at my mind."
"I will talk to Severus about this."
Harry snorted. "Of course. Everything's going to be fine because that bastard is totally going to behave if you give him a stern warning, just like every other time."
"Mister Potter, I don't appreciate your tone." Dumbledore's gaze turned to steel as he peered down at Harry.
"That's too bad. I don't appreciate your lack of action or the fact that you're deflecting. What must Snape do so that you'll finally punish him? What?" Harry shook his head. "And we haven't even begun to talk about the attempted Obliviation of Hermione."
His eyes found the Headmaster's.
"I won't let that assault slide. Punish me all you want, I won't let it stand."
The Headmaster didn't seem impressed by Harry's words, but he nodded. "I understand, Mister Potter. However, in the meantime, I'm afraid that you have detention. I'll speak with Severus when he regains consciousness and to the other Professors, before I decide how Hogwarts will deal with this. Until then, you're confined to Gryffindor Tower outside of classes and meals. Professor McGonagall will assign you your extra work later."
Dumbledore removed his glasses and pinched his nose. It almost looked as if his eyes and ears were still bleeding. "I'm sorry, Harry, but you… I don't have a choice. Someone needs to protect you from yourself."
Harry's anger spiked again. "I understand," he said with barely suppressed rage.
It was all useless. This… was useless. The Headmaster wouldn't help him, wouldn't provide answers. Sure, he'd initiated the fight with Snape, but Hermione… and everything else? Stronger than ever before, Harry felt the urge to defend his home.
Something was wrong here, and he had the increasing suspicion it wasn't him.
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
8:26 am
"Shhh! Did you hear that?" Ginny whispered.
Everyone stopped moving, quills hovering over half-written copies of Hermione's notes.
Somewhere behind the large pile of old stuff next to the group, a door closed.
"Nobody move," Hermione hissed and grabbed her wand. Then she cast Disillusionment Charms on Ginny, Hannah, Susan, Neville, and herself in rapid succession.
"Wow," Neville mumbled.
Susan's blurry shape leaned over the Marauder's Map. "It must be Malfoy, his name isn't in the Great Hall or anywhere else."
"I see him," Hannah answered in a low voice, and the group carefully shuffled to her position for a better look.
A few dozen meters away, Draco Malfoy stalked through the room. He was holding his wand and looked around suspiciously.
"He's up to something," Ginny said.
Susan hmm'ed. "Well, he's breathing."
"You sound like Harry," Ginny added.
"Stop it!" Hermione took command. "Let's follow him and see where he goes."
Slowly, the group snuck between the mountains of bulky refuse around them, trying to keep their distance from Malfoy who wandered off toward the left side of the giant room. They watched him turn around every so often, but he didn't seem to notice them.
Then, the pale Slytherin stopped in front of an old cabinet with sharp angles. It appeared positively gothic and didn't look like something you'd use to store cloaks in.
"What's that?" Neville asked.
Susan shuffled and moved slightly to get a better look. "Now that's a strange cabinet."
"What's he doing? Is he… trying to cast something?"
They watched Malfoy begin an eerie chant, and suddenly the cabinet began to shimmer, lines of runes along its edges suddenly visible.
"Oh my." Hermione leaned forward. "What is that?"
"I think it's…
"That's a Vanishing Cabinet," Neville excitedly interrupted Ginny.
Malfoy stopped and turned around, staring directly at their position. Nobody said anything as the Slytherin made a few careful steps toward them, his wand raised. "Who's there?"
His voice was pressed, more afraid than commanding.
"I said, who's there? Show yourself!"
When no answer came, Malfoy quickly moved the tip of his wand. "Sectumsempra!" he yelled. Behind Hannah, a pile of books was shredded by the curse, and pieces of parchment fell down in a wide radius.
Hermione heard Susan take a deep breath, and steeled herself.
Malfoy looked around once more and then turned back to the strange cabinet…
… only to whirl around and point his wand at Hermione.
"Crucio!"
The Unforgivable raced toward Hermione's blurry face, but when it was about to hit her, it just dissolved and made her silhouette shimmer as the magical energy was drained away.
Neville gasped. "What?"
"Stupefy!" Hermione hadn't stopped aiming and hit Malfoy square in the chest. "Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!"
The Slytherin didn't even have time to gasp as his immobilized form fell backward and hit the floor with a resounding thunk.
Hermione shook her head as if she was trying to get rid of something and wordlessly dismissed her Disillusionment Charm while she approached Malfoy.
"Hermione… what? That was awesome!" Hannah sounded excited. "How did you do that?"
"Yeah." Susan came up to Hermione. "That was an Unforgivable! How did you just… absorb it? That's not possible."
"She's a Guide, Susan. Maybe that's why she didn't dodge." Ginny's voice was low. "Remember that she just told us about being able to absorb magic?"
Hermione looked at the blurry silhouettes around her. "I wonder what gave us away."
"I know." Susan came closer and picked something out of Hermione's hair. It was a tiny piece of parchment that'd landed on her. "He probably saw this."
"My stupid hair again." Hermione sighed.
"Well, if Neville hadn't yelled like that…"
The Gryffindor blushed. "I'm sorry about that. I'm useless at these things."
"Don't worry," Ginny said. "Hermione got the ferret anyway."
Hannah turned around. "Well, what should we do now? Why is Malfoy trying to enchant a Vanishing Cabinet?"
"Maybe it's broken?" Nevill crouched down beside the magical furniture. "I don't know anything about how they work, though. Only heard of them from my nan."
"Why would he need one in working order, assuming you're correct?" Hermione looked around. "And why here, of all places? Sure, it's secret because nobody's supposed to know about the Room of Requirement, but… oh. Oh!"
"What?" Hannah's silhouette came closer.
"I think we just confirmed that this room, this… configuration, exists even if nobody's present."
"What do you mean?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "When we began using it for training, we were discussing at one point how the Room of Requirement works and what it looks like when nobody's here. Does it dissolve? Or is it just the door that vanished, and the room is left in the configuration last used?"
Neville turned around from the cabinet. "I never thought about that, but… that's slightly unnerving."
"I thought so as well," Hermione nodded. "However, I could never find evidence for any one theory. Until now."
"Because of the Vanishing Cabinet?"
"Oh," Ginny said. "I get it! Because, if someone comes through and arrives here, in the Room of Hidden Things, they don't know if someone's already here to have called the room into existence, so to speak."
Hermione gave Ginny's blurry form an appreciative smile. "Exactly."
As if on command, everyone turned toward the Vanishing Cabinet.
"Since we don't know where the other piece is, and if this one works, anyone could just step inside this room, right?" Hermione asked.
"Yes." Susan sighed. "And wards don't stop it from functioning."
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Neville added.
"Me too."
"Yeah."
Hermione eyes the cabinet. It wasn't that big, but that didn't matter if people just went through in a line, one after another… one could bring an entire group here. She glanced at the dark color of the ancient wood, and the sharp angles of the faint runes that ran alongside the corners.
This thing was old.
Likely expensive.
Something that'd become rare nowadays, something that only the older families in the Wizarding World still possessed. It wasn't difficult to see where that line of thought would end. "So the answer really is Death Eaters," she whispered, remembering the fear that she and Harry had shared days ago… ages ago, it felt like. "He's planning to bring them here through that thing."
For a short while, nobody said anything.
"Then we should destroy it," Hannah mumbled eventually.
Ginny turned to Malfoy's unconscious body. "But what about the ferret?"
Hermione looked at the ceiling, playing out scenarios in her head. "Oh, I've got an idea."
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
8:31 am
As soon as the door to the Headmaster's Office closed behind an angry Harry — without anyone's command — Albus leaned heavily on his desk.
Blood was pouring out of all his body's orifices. He couldn't remember feeling so miserable since after his duel with Grindelwald, not even touching the cursed ring had been this painful.
Harry's memories had shredded his mind.
Occlumency was all that kept him standing upright.
"Albus, what is happening? Are you sick?" Headmaster Burrwick's portraits behind appeared rather concerned. "Did Harry do something to you?"
"No, I'm…" He waved the portrait off. "It's going to be fine."
"You don't look fine," Gillian Slorah interjected. "Albus, where are Fawkes?"
The Headmaster looked over to the phoenix's empty stand. "I haven't the faintest idea, Gillian." His mind felt bruised from the millions of sensations that'd almost choked him in the Pensieve, and brutally silenced the memories that experience had awoken.
"What will you do now?"
Albus turned to the drawer Harry had left open and took another Pepperup Potion. "I need to ask questions, and find answers. There's no time to waste."
He knew drinking another one of these potions so quickly was dangerous, but there was no choice. Harry didn't seem yet aware of his control of the castle, but he'd caught a glimpse of Albus' shameful secret.
Now he was forced to do something drastic, something that would burn several plans years in the making.
Albus knocked back the potion and ran out of his office, only to be stopped at his door again. With a resigned look, the Headmaster turned toward his fireplace as steam painfully shot out his ears. "No time to waste, indeed."
He noted that his vision was becoming slightly blurry as the Pepperup Potion burned through his system. His joints ached and his right hands pulsed uncomfortably. Albus only now noted how his bandage had come loose and ripped it off.
That turned out to be a mistake and he hissed as he leaned against his fireplace. His entire right arm felt as if being hit with a Cruciatus Curse.
His left hand shaking from the pain, the Headmaster grabbed some Floo powder and threw it into the flames. "Mi-Minerva... Mc... Gonnag... Gonagall's... Office," he wheezed as his Occlumency barrier began to slip and his mind was overcome by millions of impressions of Harry racing down the Grand Staircase.
As he fell into the green fire and was being pulled in three directions at once, Albus thought that the sheer momentum he'd felt through Harry's senses had been the most... intense thing he'd ever experienced in his life.
Then he lost consciousness again and was swallowed by the Floo's entry point.
~.~.~.o.~.~.~
8:39 am
A large whirl of red fire appeared in the middle of the Headmaster's Office. When it vanished a moment later, it left behind a man.
Remus stumbled slightly but it was more out of his old habit to counterbalance the violent movement of the Floo network — he'd never traveled via phoenix before.
"Oh... wow. Thank you, Fawkes."
The fiery bird on his shoulders preened. "Screee!"
It took flight and glided over to the empty stand and sat down, visibly pleased with itself.
Remus turned around the empty room and saw that virtually all the portraits were staring at him. "I'm sorry for the interruption, I was... Fawkes... can one of you tell me where Albus is? I must speak with him."
"What did you do to Fawkes, Lupin?" One of the old Headmasters sneered. "Did you abduct him?"
"Don't be silly." Gillian Slorah rolled her eyes. "Mister Lupin, the Headmaster used the Floo to go to Professor McGonagall's office. He'd probably like to speak to you about what happened today, but I fear for his well-being."
The werewolf frowned. "What is it?"
"Well.. Harry Potter assaulted and almost killed Severus Snape. Albus looked at Harry's memories and seemed rather shaken as he left his office."
"That damn boy also set the castle on fire earlier. Expulsion, I say!" Another portrait shook its hands angrily.
Remus ignored the bickering that began behind Albus' desk and turned toward the door. He shortly hesitated when it opened in front of him, unbidden. He felt goosebumps as the feeling of entering forbidden territory grew stronger, just like last time.
It might've even grown stronger.
He was entering another's domain.
And even if he knew Harry probably didn't dislike him as a person but his inner werewolf didn't enjoy Hogwart's strange aura at all.
Also, what about the door? Had Albus added him to the list of people with priority access? But why? Had the old man really not seen Remus' mistrust earlier? And why had Albus apparently used the Floo instead of... Fawkes?
Remus turned back to the phoenix but the bird had already fallen sleeping on its stand and he had the distinct feeling that Dumbledore's familiar wouldn't help him any further. Fawkes, for reasons that he didn't quite understand yet, had warned him before that the boy was in imminent danger. Remus had heard its thoughts and intentions clearly after it'd appeared at his home to screetch at him. He had to find out what was going on, and, more importantly, find Harry and somehow spirit him away.
Hermione as well since both Sentinel and Guide were in danger.
He ran out of the office and down the stairs. His nose immediately picked up the scent of burned things, of carnage. Remus leaned over the next railing to peer down the Grand Staircase and saw destruction down below.
"Fuck me," he whispered.
