Hermione Jean Granger woke up screaming. The last thing she remembered was staring down the rune generated red dot optics of her Walther PPK into the eye of the Queen of Basilisks as her iris slid the inner cover over her eye to protect it from Hermione's flames.
She felt her body stiffening, her heart struggle to beat, she had breathed in, but could not let the half breath out for her shooting technique. She pulled the trigger and her finger barely generated the eight pounds of force for the double action shot. The recoil was minimal even though the runic upgrades on the barrel allowed the little .380 pistol caliber round to break the sound barrier before it exited the barrel moving at a little over 4800 feet per second, or 1463 meters per second. She really felt that dabbling in potions to make overpowered rounds had been a mistake. She then had to use runes to harden the barrel and more potions to further temper the frame. Of course then she had to use more runes to harden the bullet for its journey through the short barrel, but with the spin imparted by the lands the interaction between the runes on the bullet and the runes of the barrel could make an array to further increase the penetration.
Honestly, what started as a defense against muggles when she was not allowed to use her wand had turned into a theoretical project to see if she could pack the power of a muggle anti material rifle into the cute little gun James Bond carried. It turns out, you could.
She felt her breathing stop, felt the panic well up as she could not even open her mouth to scream, and as her vision greyed out from the edges as the retinal fluid in her eyes hardened to something less human, the last sight she saw was the eye of the basilisk burst under her shot.
Across from her another form, blond and thinner than he should be also shot up from bed screaming. Draco Malfoy. The look of terror in his eyes was wild and far from sane. It shocked Hermione back into awareness. She was in a bed. She was in the hospital wing. By extension, she was alive. Which suggested, they had won?
A hauntingly beautiful woman threw herself across Draco, her strong arms gathered him into her breast and the overproud twelve year old boy wailed like a terrified toddler and shook like a broken thing.
Narcissa Malfoy gathered her son to her, and glared at Hermione as she spoke to her son again and again.
"Softly my dragon, softly. He is gone. You are well. He is gone. You are strong. You are whole again my dragon. Rest Draco. Rest. No one will hurt you again. Mother will see to it." Narcissa's voice held all the helpless rage in the world, and Hermione found herself turning away from those eyes.
She turned her head and saw something disturbing.
Herself.
Sort of.
Hermione looked upon a portrait of her, a magical portrait. It showed her in Hufflepuff formal robes, which she very much was not wearing in prison or in the Chamber of Secrets. It showed her wreathed in flames, that part was true, hair flying out behind her like a banner, which can't be true. Her hair was pretty much a drool and snot filled mess where it wasn't filled with rat bones from the floor of the chamber and hours of torture. Her eyes blazed and as the Basilisk reared, she plunged what looked like the Sword of Gryffindor through the eye, only to slowly turn to stone as her blade sank home.
Hermione had been sure she had peed herself, her nose was bleeding, her tongue bitten half through, her face was a mass of scratches and her eyes were swollen bruises, her hair looking like she had been locked in a goblin punishment pit for a month. She had put a bullet into the Basilisk at about five meters, just out of splatter range of the most toxic blood on earth. Her weapon was a stubby little Walther PPK designed for concealment, not a great mothering broadsword.
She certainly hadn't put on dress robes and gone to the hair stylist before the final blow, nor, was she sure, had she killed the basilisk. At best, she would have blinded it for a few minutes. She assumed someone had killed it, or she rather expected she would have been added to the lovely collection of bones on the chamber floor.
"What in Morgana's name is that?" Hermione blinked as the magical portrait again cycled through her rising from being bound, struck a heroic pose, wrapped in flames like an avenging angel, and drove her sword through the eye of the Queen of Basilisks, and supposedly killing her as she slowly, and presumably heroically, petrified.
Narcissa Malfoy laughed softly from the next bed where she held a trembling Draco in her arms.
"That is titled "Our Lady of Flame" by former Auror Dawlish. He painted it at St Mungo's as part of his physiotherapy for the loss of his arm. He felt very strongly about your saving his life. He said some rather nice things about you, considering your blood status and his known affiliations, that is quite an impression you made on him." Narcissa said.
" $ Mouse Giver, you are awake. Have the Witch Who Heals give you something to eat. It will not be a mouse, but no one else is your equal. You will have to make do. $" Noodle hissed from where he coiled in what she supposed was an incubator from Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures stores. The snake looked unwell, being in the middle of a difficult molt, his previous skin being grey and quite stony.
" $ Noodle! You are well! I tried to stop her from biting you, and was afraid her gaze already killed you. How did you come rescue me? I thought no serpent could ever raise its fangs against the Royal Serpents. $" Hermione gushed in happy parseltongue.
" $ She should not have threatened my Mouse Giver. Vive la revolution! You will have to talk to Speaker. He has gotten into bed with the oppressor. Also, he failed to introduce her to his mother, so I am pretty sure he will be killed when he goes home. $" Noodle said ominously and went back to his nap.
Narcissa looked at Hermione for a long time. She spoke softly then, as if to herself.
"So it is true. You speak Parseltongue, like the Dark Lord." Narcissa said.
Milicent Bulstrode walked over, holding a tray of food and laughed softly.
"Madame Malfoy, I think you will find we speak Parseltongue better than Voldemort. The last two times I have seen him, all he was doing was screaming and dying. Of course before he was dying the last time, he was making a very good try at killing your son Draco, and we were making a rather hard go of keeping him alive."
Narcissa smiled softly and her voice firmed and hardened before she replied.
"Miss Bulstrode, I give greetings to Lady Selwyn from the House of Black. I am Narcissa Black, daughter of House Black. I have chosen to dissolve my marriage with Lord Malfoy. I had hoped to be a widow by now, but he was still breathing, or at least screaming, when his portkey took him away." Narcissa Black mother to Draco Malfoy and former wife of Lucius Malfoy offered firmly and clearly.
Hermione looked at the usually cold and expressionless face of Narcissa Black, and found something wild and dangerous looking back at her.
"I was unaware that Noble and Ancient marriage contracts were so easily dissolved." Hermione offered carefully.
Narcissa smiled. "I am from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, Lucius Malfoy's house is both newer and lower than my own. In our marriage, I had primacy. With the loss of so many of our clan during the Blood War, mostly falling in the service of the Dark Lord, I chose to let my husband act as the senior, and not press my rights, as the only remaining Blacks were rotting in Azkaban, and I foolishly felt my future lay with House Malfoy."
Hermione picked at her food, looking down at the tray and not at Narcissa as she worked up the nerve to ask her final question.
"What made you change your mind? Hermione asked
Magic gathered about Narcissa Malfoy, cold and dark, the shadows lengthened until they gathered about her in a pool until only the pale shining of her face peered from the whispering darkness that cloaked her.
"When that corrupted creature that called himself a man sent a diary to this school that tried to eat my son's soul. My beloved husband tried to defend his mistake by telling me it would be an honour if our son's sacrifice brought back his Dark Lord. Perhaps he thought his master wearing my beloved son's corpse as a trophy was acceptable for House Malfoy, but House Black cares for their heirs better."
Narcissa smiled soflty, the room lightening as she stroked Draco's hair and kissed his head. "Draco will still inherit Malfoy of course. Where I cut his father before he fled, there will be neither other women, nor other heirs in his future."
Milicent Bulstrode and Narcissa Malfoy shared a very Slytherin laugh, while Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy shared a glance filled with horror.
Meanwhile, in the potions Dungeon, Neville Longbottom found himself standing before Professor Snape's desk with a bottle in his hands and a very determined expression on his face.
Professor Snape leaned back in his chair and swept his robe's trailing sleeves back as he looked down a long hooked nose at the Longbottom boy.
"Mr Longbottom, you have neither destroyed any of my precious cauldrons, nor failed to turn in an acceptable brew in any of your classes, even with your usual and more conventionally competent female cohorts. So," Snape said pausing dramatically.
"Why am I looking at you?" Snape said, steepling his fingers and looking over them like an Acromantula examining something wriggling and interesting in its web.
"Professor Snape sir, do you remember the group project Miss Granger, Miss Bulstrode, Mr Potter and myself came to you about?" Neville asked innocently as only a Hufflepuff could be innocent.
Snape smiled. In all the petrifications, the murder, possession by dead dark lords and general political blood letting, he almost forgot the Granger girls crusade against perverts. One particular potion based Professor pervert in particular.
Snape placed his hands on his desk and eyed the rather large bottle in the Longbottom boy's hands. With growing interest and a great deal of frustrated hunger, he looked at the bottle again, extending his senses.
"Am I to understand you have completed your Amortentia antidote?" Snape asked hungrily.
Neville blushed and pushed the bottle onto Snape's desk. "We think so sir. We based it on our special potion, so it should be quite a bit more powerful than the standard antidote. Hermione was concerned that the sudden reversal of the love effect might trigger a negative response."
Professor Snape took out a sample pipette and in a few minutes made a test strip. He dipped it into Snape's own best Amortentia potion, and the vial of pink love potion turned a sickly green and began to stink rather like fresh Troll.
Neville took a step back in alarm as Professor Snape began to laugh. It was low and soft first, but broke into something that belonged in theatrical villain monologues. It was terrifying, and that is compared to Tom Riddle and a basilisk. Snape got himself under control and with a soft smile he resumed speaking.
"Mr Longbottom, am I to understand that your group is continuing in their goal to write a paper on this amazing new love potion antidote?" Snape asked softly.
"Yes sir. But Miss Bulstrode and Granger asked that I request a proper Potions Master or Healer be present for the test. For safety sake." Neville said softly.
Snape smiled broadly, without showing any teeth. Neville remarked, not for the first time, how much Snapes tooth hidden smile reminded him of Noodle when he looked at a well potioned mouse from Hermione.
"If I recall correctly, your group was interested in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, some concern about potential love potion contamination, no doubt accidental and very minor." Said Severus Snape, looking about as innocent as Noodle when he found Not A Rat in the girls shower.
"Yes sir. Miss Granger should be waking up any day now since you made the mandrake draughts to remove the petrifications. I would like to give her some good news about our group project." Neville said hopefully.
He continued quietly, more than a little nervous about Snape's smile. "Um sir. Miss Bulstrode wondered if you had something to aerosolize the antidote?" Neville said, trailing off in fear of asking the terrifying potions master for a further favour. To his surprise, Professor Snape stood up fast as any serpent and smiled with bared teeth.
"Oh Mr Longbottom. I really must insist. Come. This is your project. Since you have too much sense to ever lower yourself to make those annoying dung bombs the Weasley twins waste their time creating, you will find the technology is fairly similar. I will guide you through the process, and then we will proceed to the DADA classroom together and let you give it a gentle toss in and see what happens." Professor Snape said happily.
Twenty minutes later, Professor Snape had sent a Slytherin Prefect to fetch Professor Sprout and Neville, Hermione and Harry's Head of House, and a rather confused Professor McGonagall as Deputy Headmistress to witness the employment of the Hufflepuff Serpent Collective Antidote (mark 1).
Neville Longbottom was somewhere between elated and terrified. A year ago, he would not have been able to breathe or speak at this point, but a certain number of near death experiences will bring a shift in outlook to any boy. His inner badger tended to stop him from over thinking things. When things got tough, you stopped thinking, put your head down, and dug for all you were worth.
"Really Severus, I am very busy right now. With all the petrifications, and Mr Potter's refusal to open the Chamber of Secrets to allow Professor Dumbledore to harvest the materials from the dead basilisk, the matter of the jailbreak, the question of the legality of Aurors imprisoning Hogwarts students at all without charge or trial. I have quite a few matters that require my urgent attention. Is this really necessary.
Professor Pomfrey had a scowl upon her face as she had been exchanging whispers with her Hufflepuff second year on the trip to the Fifth Year DADA class. She didn't like the suggestion that Gildroy Lockheart was microdosing all his classes with Amortentia. She respected Gildroy Lockheart, she adored him. She absolutely could not bear to think anything bad about him at all.
Having listened to Neville's words, and feeling her own mind and body's reaction, Professor Sprout began to feel her own magic stir defensively as a panic that her thoughts and feelings might not be entirely her own started the old witches magic begin to claw at the layers of almost unheard compulsions that Professor Lockheart had managed to instill, right under their noses.
"Minerva, I think it best we step into the classroom and let Neville make his test." Professor Sprout said, smiling sweetly.
"I think it should be fine to witness from outside the door, don't you think Pomona? I don't want to disrupt a fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The Gryffindor and Slytherin students in there are working towards their Owl exams in just a few months. They need all the time under Gildroy they can get." McGonagall said, not noticing the snickering of Severus Snape.
Professor Snape knocked on the door, before sweeping in with McGonagall and Sprout on his heels. Last and least, Neville Longbottom of Longbottom squared his shoulders, and brought a palm sized red heart, like a large valentine, that had the letters G and L written on it in flowery script.
"Good day Professors, Mr Longbottom. I trust you need me for something important." Gildroy Lockheart said, striking a dramatic pose and flashing a smile that actually flashed in a way that just could not be natural
A class full of supposedly serious witches and wizards preparing for their OWLs were staring at Gildroy with the sort of vapid adoration of devoted fan girls and boys to their first meeting with their idol, not students prepping for a major do or die educational and career qualification.
Neville smiled and held up the monogrammed heart and said loudly enough for the whole class to hear.
"This is from Hermione Granger. She says, good luck." Neville said, then cast the heart down, which erupted in a cloud of pink smoke that smelled of clarity, purity, self awareness. Now muggles would say those things do not have smells, but muggles think potions are just medicines they don't understand. Muggles are weird that way. Potions are magic, just subtler about it, except when they are powerful enough to stop being subtle and start being dramatic.
Gildroy Lockheart felt his skin begin to burn. He sprayed himself with his own formation love potion every day, after drinking his own special antidote. No sense catching yourself along with the next lucky lovely young girl. He sprayed under his ears, his wrists and a single manly puff under each arm so that even if he sweat, it just made him sexier to every one of the lovely young ladies he was picking among.
Right now, those areas felt like they were on fire. Looking over at the smiling full sized portrait of himself, he saw his portrait pointing at him and shouting "You are turning green!"
Lockheart froze. Green was the test response colour to the Amortentia antidote. His own special potion was supposed to suppress that. His potion was microdosed for his classes and fan conventions, but it was strong. His recipe he had stolen from a Potions Master he interviewed, then Oblivated so the poor fool will never remember he created it, let alone that Gildroy stole it. His was stronger than the book version. His was unblockable, untestable.
"Merlin's balls!" Shouted a very angry Slytherin Fifth Year Female Prefect. "I've been love potioned!"
She was the first, but dozens of girls who had some form of occlumency training, felt their mind finally able to cut through the fog and deliver the months of alarms at the changes in their thoughts and shading of their memories.
It was a Gryffindor who fired first, but two Slytherins were shortly behind her. Lockheart threw up a shield and began to try to explain.
"Now now, its not like it sounds. It's only a perfume. Not really enough to make you do anything you don't want to. Right girls? I mean, who can blame you. I'm hard to resist?" Gildroy tried, striking a heroic pose and giving his five times Witch Weekly best smile to the class.
That would be when the Slytherin female prefect lit his hair on fire, and a Gryffindor girl caught him with a full body bind.
"I can't believe I kissed him!" Sobbed one girl, and a second hugged her and confessed the same.
Professor McGonagall's face turned to cold iron, and with a wave of her wand, the stone of the castle floor formed a fist that grabbed Lockheart, leaving only his head exposed.
"Professor Lockheart. I was just called from a very important meeting with Professor Dumbledore and a number of very angry and frustrated Aurors who really want to punish someone. I think it would be lovelly if you joined that meeting, and gave all sides someone we can agree truly deserves a nice meet and greet at an Island spa I feel a very strong desire for you to visit. It is called Azkaban." McGonagall's Scots brogue had thickened to dangerous levels, and it was only the speed of her passage though the class and out the door to Dumbledore's office that put out the fire in Lockheart's hair.
Neville Longbottom felt a claw like hand descend on his shoulder. He looked back in alarm to see Professor Severus Snape laughing helplessly and silently. His eyes flashed in a dark uncomplicated cruelty as he drank in the fall of Gildroy Lockheart and savored it like the finest whiskey.
Straightening up, he addressed the class very firmly.
"I am afraid class is cancelled today and for further notice. The Headmaster will update your timetables when remedial DADA classes can be offered. For now, I suggest you move to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey will give you a thorough check up, and I believe the Aurors will want to talk to you."
Guiding Neville Longbottom out the door, Professor Severus Snape made the unusual gesture of awarding House Points (a thing he gave so rarely to houses other than his own that many swore he had to cut them out of his own flesh).
"Mr Longbottom, advise your potions group that I expect at lest two feet from each of them on the preparation of this potion, beginning with its inspiration, and very definitely including both the Amortentia brewing and the antidote. While for security reasons I will not be able to publish this until you are all safely out of our Headmasters somewhat magically conservative hands, the work both deserves and requires reward.
Assuming I receive complete and satisfactory documentation, I will be awarding each of you ten points."
Professor Snape said, then patted Neville on the shoulder.
"Mr Longbottom, please feel free to come to me with any further special projects your little group conceives. I find you collectively far less dunderheaded than the normal crop of Hogwarts students." Snape said as he walked out of sight.
Neville wasn't sure, but he may have been whistling. He shook his head. No one would believe that. Still, the news that Hermione would not have to apologize to Lockheart would be good to greet her with when she woke up. He smiled, and decided to beat the rush to the infirmary. He wanted to tell the story before the hordes of DADA students started to descend on the infirmary.
At roughly the same time in Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, Amelia Bones and Harry Potter sat around Dumbledore's desk, while two pairs of Aurors, one from the Minster of Magic, and one from the DMLE who theoretically should command both, glared at each other. Since one of Amelia's was Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody, the glaring was anything but even.
Cornelius Fudge glared at Dumbledore. "You swore there was no such thing as the Chamber of Secrets."
Dumbledore spread his fingers and made a patting motion, attempting to quiet the Minister of Magic as if he was an angry student or parent.
"Now, now Cornelius, neither your Aurors, nor my House Elves, portraits, ghosts, or own magic have ever been able to detect it. No one has ever seen the basilisk in all the years, that Hogwarts has existed." Dumbledore offered softly.
Amelia Bones adjusted her monocle and glared at Dumbledore. "They kill with a glance Dumbledore. Myrtle Warren haunts one of your own bathrooms here, of course no one has seen them. They get killed or petrified if they did. The portraits that went dark, the ghosts that got petrified, they are not signs no one has seen a basilisk, they are signs no one saw a basilisk and lived to report back. A rather different statement that."
Dumbledore ground his teeth, then turned to Harry Potter and smiled, his eyes twinkling.
"But now we have found the Chamber of Secrets, and we have the Boy Who Lived who can open it for us." Dumbledore smiled happily. The sale of the parts of a thousand year old basilisk could underwrite the operation of Hogwarts for a decade, without having to go to the Board of Governors and Lucius Malfoy begging for every cost of living increase. Plus, he would be able to find and destroy all of Salazar Slytherin's profane writings. The dark magic of Parseltongue must be expunged. That must be what turned Tom. He would make sure it never turned another.
Harry smiled and spread his hands. "Sorry professor. The Chamber of Secrets was opened because some Death Eater sent Tom Riddle's diary into the school in hopes it would find someone vulnerable, and seduce them into offering it a way into their soul.
Draco did that, and Tom Riddle possessed him. We managed to kill the basilisk, and destroy the diary. Turns out basilisk venom can destroy a Horcrux, but when he died, Tom Riddle went all Voldemort on us and decided if he couldn't have the Chamber, no one could."
Dumbledore took the chance and lanced his Legilmancy into Harry when their eyes met. Dumbledore flinched as his mind slammed into a nightmare forest of coils and scales, his own mind retreating before the flash of fangs, and eyes that glowed killing gold.
Dumbledore looked at Harry in shock, and Harry smiled with all the innocence of Hufflepuff.
Cornelius Fudge was outraged. "You can't say that. That was never proved. That was rampant speculation on the part of Mad Eye Moody and slander of a good wizard whose disappearance was most likely because of Voldemort."
Cornelius was getting farther worked up. "That information was classified, even hearing about Horcrux is enough to get you questioned, and speaking it is worth a trip to Azkaban!" The minister raged.
"Aurors, arrest this boy!" Fudge concluded, waving his hand at Harry.
Amelia Bones sighed and gestured at Mad Eye Moody who loomed behind her. He simply growled, and the minister's security detail remembered who scared them more, and who they legally worked for, and stayed put.
Madame Bones then sighed and stated the obvious for the rather more agitated than alert Minister.
"I rather think he got the name from Voldemort himself, whom he has killed three times now, which rather makes keeping the existence of Horcrux a secret from him rather moot, don't you think, Cornelius?" Amelia suggested, sharing a long suffering glance with Harry.
Dumbledore sighed. "I was rather hoping I would not have to burden you with that knowledge Harry. Even to learn of them taints the soul, dark knowledge like that can twist even the brightest soul. I have been searching for them for several years. It is my intention that you will never have to bother with them. Trust in your Professors to keep you safe." Dumbledore said, smiling serenely, like he didn't just try to mind rape Harry less than a minute before.
That would be when Minerva McGonagall, Pomona Sprout and Severus Snape flowed into Dumbledore's ever more crowded office, towing a green faced, smoking haired Professor Gildroy Lockheart trapped in a giant copy of Professor McGonagall's own fist.
"Ah good Albus, you still have Auror's here. Arrest Professor Lockheart. Send your Aurors down to the infirmary to begin taking statements. You may want to summon more, or you will be at if for days." McGonagall said sadly.
Dumbledore was stunned. Not having a clue what was happening.
"Minerva, why is Professor Lockheart bound, and why haven't his wounds been seen to before seeking Aurors?" Dumbledore demanded, his voice rising in ire as his patience for a day full of disappointments failed him.
Professor Sprout was already answering. "He was dosing everyone with illegal and overstrength love potions Albus. He was taking advantage of students as young as Fifth Year. If you didn't have Aurors here on site already, I have several plants that could use a good source of vitamins."
Moody stumped forward, wand out and stuck very firmly in Lockheart's face. His face was too scarred to hold any expression beyond dangerous, but he radiated that now. He barked out a simple question to his old Head of House.
"Pomona, what the hell is going on in this school? What has he been doing." Moody said his natural eye never leaving Lockheart, nor his wand wavering.
"Three of my Hufflepuffs and one of Severus Slytherin second years," Began Professor Sprout.
Snape cut in. "That would be Mr Longbottom and Potter, Miss Granger and Bulstrode."
Moody's Mad Eye rolled at Dumbledore, then Snape, Harry, and back to Sprout.
"Those would be the ones you tried to lock up Albus, the ones who had to break out of jail to save your bloody school?" Moody snarled.
Dumbledore winced. "That was unkindly put Alastor, but yes, those are indeed, the same students."
Professor Sprout gave a huff of annoyance at all the interruptions, then continued.
"These four students came to Severus with the concern that Harry's familiar Noodle the snake had detected Amortentia in the DADA classroom, coming from Gildroy Lockheart. Miss Granger was concerned that he might be taking advantage of young students whose will was compromised with love potion. Although, no one had reported any assaults or inappropriate contact."
Moody gave a bark of laugher. "They wouldn't would they? I was a bit surprised when he started writing his books and playing celebrity. You see, we used to see him a lot back in the bad old days of the war, every time the battles spilled into muggle lands. Lockheart here was an Oblivator. His job was to wipe the memories of any muggles who saw things they shouldn't. Add that to a pervert messing with love potioned girls and an ugly chain of thoughts starts to form. How did four second years bag him?" Moody asked, turning to Sprout and Snape.
Professor Sprout turned to Snape and asked "Severus?"
The Potion Master smiled and bowed, continuing the tale. "Miss Bulstrode came to seek my assistance as a Potion Master in an experiment. It seemed that Miss Granger was concerned that there was evidence of Amortentia use that was beating the standard detection and counter measures. Since we know that stronger Amortentia cannot be detected or countered by weaker Amortentia, they sought permission to create an experimental stronger Amortentia, and base a new test and antidote off of this stronger experimental version."
The Potion Master smiled. "The test was spectacularly successful. The antidote potion caused a rather strong and instant removal of the effects of both the attraction and the suggestion aspects of the Amortentia. The Fifth grade Gryffindors and my Slytherins chose to express their opinion of being victimized with a fairly vigorous display of the DADA curriculum. Hence Professor Lockhart's current, somewhat battered, appearance."
Amelia Bones slammed her hand down onto the table and snapped at Albus Dumbledore.
"A zombie possessed by Voldemort, a potion pedaling pervert, who do you plan to invite to teach Defense of the Dark Arts to our children next Albus? A vampire? You know Beauxbatons has a very good program. I might have to look at if for Susan if your DADA instructors keep being the Dark thing we need to defend against." Amelia Bones snarled with rather less politeness than she normally used.
Professor Sprout looked at Harry, who was grinning happily at yet another DADA professor who didn't last out the year. She sighed and turned to Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger and Noodle should be reviving about now. Since there is nothing further you need to interrogate my student for, I should like Mr Potter to be free to go see his friends."
Professor Sprout received a tired nod from Dumbledore, a firm one from Bones, and a painful one from Fudge. Harry left to the sounds of several voices all trying to shout at once. Harry grinned. Neville and Milicent would be there when Hermione and Noodle woke up. Everything would be better when they were back together.
Hours later, Dumbledore sat nursing a headache potion a House Elf brought up from the Infirmary. Of all the cheeky insults he had to swallow in his own office. Amelia Bones suggesting he employ a vampire as DADA instructor. The very thought!
Then a thought struck him.
Not a vampire of course. Much too dangerous. Still, he did know a werewolf. With the Sirius Black matter now threatening to become an issue again, it might be good to have this particular werewolf again under Albus protection, and feeling properly indebted for it of course.
Young Harry was already showing disturbing signs of dabbling in black magic. That duel with Tom Riddle and Harry had been like watching two Dark Lords fight for dominance, not like watching the Boy Who Lived trusting in the protection of love and the gift of his mother to end Voldemort by offering his own life.
It would have been a mistake to sacrifice himself before Dumbledore found and destroyed all the Horcrux, but Harry seemed almost to be seeking to meet Voldemort as an equal, as a fellow Dark Lord.
This was Dumbledore's last war, his legacy. His gift to a wizarding world to repay for the sins of his youth. He would end the Dark Lord Voldemort, and make sure none rose after him. Harry just had to be brought around. The right influences, and he could still be saved.
He had come too far to fail.