A/N: Alright, we are back at Hogwarts which means all the new problems can start. Because things have been really low-key, I've actually been struggling a lot to write, but I'm doing my best. Lots of little implications of future issues and conflicts in this chapter. I hope you enjoy. If you do, please, leave a review. Thank you so much :)

Translations:
[Latin] Frater = Brother
[Latin] Paenitet, frater = Sorry, Brother
[English text] Moy drug = [Russian text] Мой друг = My friend

Chapter 51

Leif couldn't explain the feeling he had as he stepped out of the fireplace into the ever-bustling Ministry. Sure the busyness felt a bit more frantic than the normal, everyday busyness, but it wasn't something he'd never experienced before. Truthfully, it wasn't as though anything had really changed aside from Fudge and Lucius being gone, and that should have caused nothing but relief. Yet, relief wasn't what he felt. He didn't know yet what he felt, but he knew it wasn't relief.

He shook his head at himself and pushed aside the strange feeling, weaving his way through the rushing crowds towards the lifts. He drummed his fingers on the strap of his satchel as he waited, not even realizing the motion echoed the habit of both Draco and Harry to do the same thing, and his other hand unconsciously clenched in his coat pocket. He stepped onto the lift with the others waiting and pressed himself against the back, taking slow, deep breaths he didn't understand why he needed. He fought hard not to flinch when someone shuffled through the crowded lift to stand next to him.

"Marcus."

Leif looked to his right at the voice. "Barlow," he returned, feeling tense.

"Scrimgeour's got a lot of interest in you and Snape, not to mention those boys of yours," Barlow told him quietly.

"I figured as much," Leif replied. "Just here to get back to work."

"He'll not make it easy," Barlow said.

"Never is."

The lift came to a stop and people began shuffling to get off, Barlow following.

"Glad to see you back, Marcus. Come find me should you need anything," the Unspeakable said before getting off the lift and leaving Leif alone. He stared dumbly at the lift doors, exiting slowly when it stopped at Level Ten.

The closer he got to the Archives, the more the odd feeling grew and he drummed his fingers more spastically, still not realizing he was copying the boys. He felt a strange tightening in his chest, rubbing his sternum absently as he walked. Turning the corner, he found no one had bothered to fix the golden bars that were meant to protect the Archives and he could see some damaged shelves and scattered papers, telling him no one had cleaned either. He stepped over and through the disfigured golden bars, gazing around with a frown. There were no wards of any kind left, the podium where requests used to appear was in pieces, shelves were shattered and collapsed, papers were burned and shredded, chunks of stone lay everywhere from ceiling and walls, and the marble floor was cracked.

He wandered slowly through the destruction, brief memories of that day flashing before his eyes and the deep, encompassing feeling beginning to suffocate him. When he came upon the aisle where his own pool of blood was now dried on the floor, he stopped and stared, his chest tightening and his left side tingling, almost buzzing. He absently released his bag and rubbed at his left shoulder, at his restored tattoos, and he suddenly understood what the feeling was.

Overwhelming anxiety.

He was anxious being back at the Ministry, back in the Archives, back where he'd fought Lucius, back where he'd failed his family, where he'd nearly…

"Leif Marcus."

Leif turned at the voice, fighting not to jump, not having expected to have company, especially not that of the new Minister.

"Minister," Leif greeted, surprise clear in his voice. "Apologies. I did not expect any visitors to the Archives so soon."

"No, of course not," Scrimgeour said, his easiness putting Leif on guard. It was strange. "I thought I would come down and welcome you back."

"Thank you," Leif said stiffly.

"I apologize for leaving this such a mess for your return," Scrimgeour said, gazing around and even nudging some scorched papers on the floor with his shiny shoe. "I have inherited quite the chaos, you understand."

"Of course," Leif said, still guarded.

"We were able to identify what Lucius Malfoy stole the day he attacked you and with the way that prophecy is acting, well…" Scrimgeour trailed off and looked at Leif whose eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he realized the man was making his agenda known. "I would very much like to speak with those boys of yours."

Leif stiffened despite having known it was coming to an extent from all the updates he'd received from Barlow over the holidays and just previously in the lift. "Of mine?"

"Come now, Marcus, you know how adoption petitions operate, where they go," Scrimgeour said, a lightness in his voice that did not match the direction of the conversation. "I received Snape's application. Interesting company you keep."

Leif said nothing, eyes narrowing further.

"A laughable pursuit on Snape's part," Scrimgeour continued. "While I may not keep the same company as Cornelius, I am smart enough to know that Lucius Malfoy is going to want his son back and no one will give that Death Eater the Boy Who Lived."

"No one or just you?" Leif countered defensively.

He was well aware of Scrimgeour's hatred of Severus. There had been dozens of requests for Severus' file over the years from Scrimgeour as well as petitions, requests, and applications for Severus' dismissal from Hogwarts, arrest, and conviction. When Severus had escaped Azkaban after the first war, Scrimgeour had been furious, having been on the Wizengamot and staunch in his desire to convict. The man had spent the last decade desperately searching for anything that could convince the rest of the Ministry to go against Dumbledore and send Severus to Azkaban.

Scrimgeour gave him a hard look, relaxed aura gone, no matter how fake it had been. "Careful, Marcus. I can easily get what I want and what I want is the boys."

"Why? From what I've learned recently, the Department of Mysteries has already managed research on Elemental and Aether Magic," Leif said, a short flash of Lucius' crystal appearing in his mind and making his shoulder tingle again.

"True," Scrimgeour conceded, "but think what we could learn if those two were in the Ministry's custody. We need live, active magic to continue research and we are well aware you and the vampire will never consent to participation."

Leif stared hard at the man.

"Additionally, I'm smarter than Fudge. I know he's back. Imagine how we could fight with those two, especially considering that prophecy, and just consider the future of defence with their kind of magic in hand."

Leif's expression turned into a vicious glare. Scrimgeour took a small step towards Leif, ensuring they could stare each other down.

"You do not want me as an enemy, Mr. Marcus," Scrimgeour murmured before turning to leave the Archives. "Get this place together. I won't have any more messes in this Ministry."

Leif watched the Minister leave, anger simmering alongside his new anxiety. Shaking his head at the corruption rampant in the Ministry and the threats continuously levelled against his family that had fought so hard to get where they were, he forced himself to walk away, giving his blood one last glance. He headed into his office and sighed; also destroyed. He stood in the broken doorway and stared again, brow furrowed, taking in the paper-laden floor, emptied drawers, and overturned furniture.

He walked in slowly, hesitantly, approaching his desk and sliding his bag from his shoulder onto the desktop. He picked up his discarded chair and slowly sat, eyes dancing around the room until they fell on the open, empty compartment in the corner of the desk. His chest tightened once again and his left side tingled more strongly, feeling closer to a sizzle, like when Lucius…

He huffed at himself.

Why was he so anxious?

He didn't fear the Ministry or the Archives; he was glad to finally be back. He certainly didn't fear Lucius. He'd been through terrible things in his long life and had been horrifically injured more times than he could count. This entire thing with Lucius honestly wasn't new. So, what was wrong with him?

His hand drifted to his shoulder again as the sizzling sensation grew.

He'd been in life-threatening situations before, but…he hadn't, had he? Not really. To anyone else they would've been life-threatening and, while they'd come with long recovery periods, none had truly threatened his life, his immortality. He'd never believed and feared he was dying…until then…until Lucius…

The ghost of the snap, of the cold, fell over him and his fingers curled into his shoulder without him realizing. His gaze grew distant. The water rushed in his ears again. His lungs refused to expand. The darkness crept in.

"Leif?"

It all stopped, became a fading whisper. He blinked and looked at the doorway, finding Alexei standing there and looking at him with what seemed to be a mixture of concern and understanding.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, confused.

The vampire shrugged casually, hands in his trouser pockets. "Thought you could use some company. It didn't feel like something you should have to do alone."

"Coming back to work?" Leif said, further confused by Alexei's responding gentle smile.

"Coming back to where you almost died trying to protect Severus and the boys."

Leif frowned at the blunt comment. "I'm fine."

Alexei's eyes flicked to where he was still gripping his shoulder, making him release it with a sigh.

"I wouldn't change it," he said quietly.

"I know that," Alexei replied, "but that doesn't change what happened."

"No, it doesn't," Leif snapped bitterly. "It doesn't change that I failed and am the reason they almost died, the reason Scrimgeour is now also after them."

"You know that's not true and you know that's not what I meant," Alexei chided gently.

"Regardless, I am fine," Leif said tightly.

"Are you?" Alexei returned and Leif gazed at him. "You almost died, frater."

"It's happened before."

"No, it hasn't," Alexei argued. "Leif, you have been alive for a thousand years and not once in that time has anyone ever destroyed your tattoos. No one has ever broken your magic because they didn't know how…until now. You almost died, actually died."

"I get it," Leif sniped.

"I'm going to take a page from Severus here and tell you that I would be surprised if you were okay," Alexei told him.

"What do you want from me?"

"To admit that you're not okay and that it's okay that you're not because none of us really are yet, not after everything that happened."

There was a heavy pause as Leif stared at Alexei who just gazed back calmly, misty blue eyes so full of understanding and compassion Leif could hardly stand it. Finally, he sighed and slumped back in his chair, hearing the creak that told him it had been damaged in Lucius' rampage through the office.

"I'm not okay," Leif muttered, "but I want to be here."

Alexei slipped into the office and sat in one of the other chairs, also restored from its fallen position and also creaking under his weight.

"I know," Alexei said lightly, "and you'll be okay. We all will."

"Not if Scrimgeour gets his way. He's coming for the boys."

"Ah, what's another corrupt Minister in the grand scheme?"

Leif couldn't help but laugh, Alexei joining in moments later. The cold and dark that had engulfed the Archives began to lift, following Alexei's words.

It would be okay.

When it was McGonagall that stepped up to the podium before the start of the second term feast and Dumbledore was nowhere in sight, Harry threw a look over at Draco who returned it with the same level of obvious confusion. Where was the headmaster?

"Welcome back, students," McGonagall greeted loudly. "I hope you all had a wonderful Winter Break."

For the first time in his life, he could say that, yes, his Christmas and Winter Break had been amazing. Despite the remaining effects of their time with Voldemort, the holiday had been great. They'd all healed, he'd played loads of chess with Draco, they'd brewed with Severus, played outside, and done coordination magic training with Leif and Alexei. It had been amazing and how he'd imagined a real Christmas with a real family would be like.

"Before we begin the feast, a couple of announcements," McGonagall said. "First, as I am sure you have all heard, Professor Umbridge has been removed—"

She didn't get to finish as the Great Hall exploded into cheers. Even the professors looked thrilled at the news and were forcing themselves not to join the students in their celebrations. McGonagall let it go on for a couple minutes before gesturing for quiet and attention.

"Please join me in welcoming our new Defence professor, Alexei Romanov," McGonagall said, gesturing at the vampire who stood and gave a wave with a smile.

Everyone applauded with cheers coming from those who had gotten to know Alexei during their secret duelling club. Harry wondered what would happen with it now Umbridge was gone. It didn't seem needed anymore.

"And the second announcement is for our fifth through seventh years," McGonagall continued. "In February, fifth years will be going through career counselling. You will be given advice on career paths and be connected to any necessary mentors. Sixth and seventh years, you will be given assistance on your applications and interviews will be arranged in the coming months."

The hall buzzed with murmurs and remained busy with conversation as the feast began. Harry gazed around the hall for a moment as the food appeared, recognizing the various empty seats at Slytherin table. Some enemy Slytherins were still there—the Carrow sisters, for one—but many of those that had hospitalized Draco and aided in their kidnapping were gone. He moved his eyes from Slytherin up to the staff table, seeing Severus and Alexei talking closely while Leif's usual seat remained empty, the immortal once again at the Ministry. As he looked around, he felt an odd tingle along the back of his neck and he scratched absently. Feeling a bit lightheaded, he finally turned away from the rest of the hall and began filling his plate with food.

"Any idea what you might want to do after school, mate?" Ron asked and Harry looked across at him.

"I've already decided actually and started the process," Harry told him. "I'm going to be a Rune Mage."

"Bloody hell!" Ron gaped. "Really?"

Harry nodded. "McGonagall suggested it, and Alexei and Siguard are helping with the prerequisite steps."

"Wicked."

Harry chuckled at his friend and dug into his meal.

Dinner was enjoyable for the first time in months, reminding him just how glad he was he'd finally made up with Ron and Hermione. Once they finished, they left the hall and headed up to Gryffindor Tower, still talking animatedly about everything that had been missed over their months of tension. They sat in the common room for a few more hours before retiring for the night.

Harry climbed into bed, bidding Ron goodnight for the first time in weeks, and gazed up at his canopy. As he laid there, he found the tingling in his neck had returned as did the lightheaded feeling. It also felt like his mind was fuzzy around the edges as though he was waking up from sleep or trying to reach for something that wasn't quite a memory anymore. He frowned at himself and rubbed his eyes aggressively before rolling onto his side to get more comfortable.

He was probably just tired.

Draco watched in concern as Severus' arm trembled, his fist clenched, and his face tightened almost imperceptibly. The man was clearly in pain—growing into agony, from what he could tell—and was doing his best not to let it show. He and Harry had noticed over the holidays though. Voldemort was slowly torturing him.

"It's getting worse," he muttered, turning to Harry beside him. He frowned when he found Harry just staring unblinking at the board where Severus had written the instructions. "Harry?" He paused in his slicing and nudged his brother with his elbow. His frown deepened when he had to do it a few times before finally getting a response.

Harry blinked slowly and turned away from the board. "What?"

"You okay?" Draco asked, watching as Harry started placing the scarabs into the mortar and pestle with dried lavender sprigs.

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Harry replied, beginning to crush the beetles and lavender.

"You were just staring at the board," Draco told him.

"What? No, I wasn't," Harry argued. "I've been doing this."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed as Harry indicated the crushing he was currently performing. Harry was really acting like he'd been crushing the beetles all along. Was he unaware he'd seemingly zoned out or was he unwilling to admit he had for some reaosn?

"Looks like the Mark is getting worse," Harry said and Draco huffed lightly at the repetition of his original observation.

"I've been thinking about it and looking at the intro theory stuff Leif gave me," Draco said, resuming his own slicing. "I think I could help."

"Really?"

"Both of us actually. It's just magic and a tattoo."

"Like Leif."

Draco nodded, stirring slowly as Harry sprinkled his beetle-lavender mixture on the potion's surface. "Maybe I can do something to the magic and you can do something to the Mark. It's kind of like a specially designed rune, if you think about it. Maybe it could be our Runes and Magical Theory entry project."

"We've got Runes after lunch," Harry replied. "We can talk to Siguard about it."

Severus' drawled, "Quiet," interrupted Draco from replying and they were pinned with his warning look before the man returned his attention to whatever work he was doing.

Their whispered conversation came to a halt and they continued working in silence though Draco kept glancing between Severus and Harry surreptitiously. Severus' left arm never stopped spasming and the tightly curled hand never relaxed. Beside him, Harry would have strange moments where he would stop in the middle of an action inexplicably as though frozen or forgetting what he was doing before resuming as though nothing had happened. It was all concerning to watch and had him deeply worried about his family.

They were almost at the end of their potion and the double period when Draco became even more concerned about his brother. He was in the middle of preparing their vials for decanting while Harry measured out the final ingredient, white nettle oil. The Gryffindor was slowly pouring the cloudy grey liquid into a measuring flask when he suddenly stopped once again. The oil began to pour directly onto Harry's hand instead of into the flask, instantly eating through the skin. Typically, white nettle would only cause inflammation, irritation, and itching if in contact with skin, but it was far more potent as an oil and in large quantities, like Harry was experiencing. Yet, despite the damage being inflicted, Harry didn't react, continuing to allow the oil to drench his hand.

When Draco glanced at his friend and realized what was happening, he immediately reached out with a shout, knocking over their waiting vials. He grabbed Harry's wrist to pull it out of the oil's path, wincing at the splash that landed on his own hand. As he did, both flasks fell from Harry's hands and shattered on the tabletop.

"Draco, what the hell?" Harry exclaimed before gasping as the pain in his hand registered.

"Me? What the hell is wrong with you?" Draco snapped.

"What are you talking about? You made me drop it and get it all over," Harry argued.

"Are you mad? You were pouring it on yourself and wouldn't stop," Draco fought back angrily.

"I was not," Harry retorted sharply.

"Enough," Severus said as he approached them. "Everyone, dismissed. Potter, go to the infirmary. Malfoy, stay here."

Severus wrapped a cloth around Harry's hand and the Gryffindor left the room, Granger and Weasley close behind him. Draco watched the man vanish the spilled oil before gesturing for Draco to follow him to the storage room. Severus grabbed another cloth, a vial of liquid, and a jar of paste and began treating Draco's hand.

"Why'd you send him to the infirmary and not me or instead of healing him yourself?" Draco asked as the vial was poured over his hand, neutralizing the oil and allowing it to be wiped away.

"Harry's injuries are more severe and require the stronger treatment which is in the infirmary," Severus told him, applying the paste which would heal the chemical burn-like wound. "Plus, I want to know what happened."

"He was pouring it all over himself and not reacting!" Draco said loudly. "I had to stop him before he dissolved his whole bloody hand."

"You are sure that's what was happening?"

"You didn't see?" Draco said and Severus shook his head. "He's been acting odd all period. Not paying attention, zoning out, but it's like he didn't know that's what was happening. Something's wrong."

"He is likely just tired."

"That wouldn't explain how he didn't react to the nettle oil."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Severus dismissed though Draco narrowed his eyes, able to hear the slight uncertainty in the man's voice. "You are both still recovering from all that happened. It is likely another symptom as he heals."

Draco didn't think that was it, but Severus sent him off to lunch before he could continue arguing. He didn't know what was wrong with his brother, but he knew it wasn't PTSD or anything like that.

Something else was going on.

Severus sighed and leaned his head back against the chair, rolling it just slightly to let his eyes fall on the emerald hourglass that now sat on the mantle over the fireplace. Harry's colourful Elemental Magic danced around the top half and Draco's silvery-white Aether Magic fluttered around the bottom. His own golden magic wrapped around the tourmaline in the center, strands reaching up and down to the boys' magic. White runes were embossed in a horizontal line around the very top and bottom of the glass. They would change colour to indicate the physical status of the boys, allowing him to know if they were ill, injured, exhausted, or anything else. It also allowed him to track the boys, if needed.

It was beautiful, the most incredible gift he'd ever received. Additionally, the meaning behind it…echoing his own sentiments in pursuing adoption.

He sucked in a breath and winced at the sharp pain in his forearm and looked away from the hourglass.

"Paenitet, frater," Alexei murmured as he dabbed at the inflamed, weeping Dark Mark. "It is getting worse."

Severus sighed again. "Voldemort is recovering from the boys' attack. I am sure I will feel the full consequences of my betrayal soon."

"We will brew the Pain Reliever with my venom this weekend, but it will not remain effective," Alexei told him, beginning to spread a clear gel over the Mark. "We need a long-term solution."

"There isn't exactly literature to study," Severus said, watching the white bandages be taped over the Mark whose pain had eased. "And Leif has more important things to worry about than searching the destroyed Archives for information that does not exist."

"So, your plan is to let him torture you to madness?" Alexei said sharply.

"You say it like I want this," Severus replied. "There are no options. It cannot be removed and Voldemort controls it."

"This sounds a lot like giving up which, after everything that's happened, is not an option," Alexei retorted. "You have two boys to take care of, boys you are choosing to make your sons. They're going to need more fight from you than this."

Severus gave a light glare. "They are who I'm thinking of. With Voldemort recovering, they are in danger again except it is not a danger I am familiar with so I have no idea how to protect them."

"Which you need to be alive to do at all," Alexei sniped. "This is not an 'or' situation, moy drug. We need to find a way to sever your Mark and we need to find out what Voldemort may do to the boys."

"And deal with Scrimgeour," Severus added.

Alexei just gave a small, mildly amused smile. Severus rubbed his forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he didn't have a headache.

"Harry's been acting odd since we came back last week," Severus said and Alexei nodded.

"He seems distracted," Alexei agreed. "It could be a later response to what happened."

Severus just gazed at the vampire.

"You don't think so."

"I honestly know nothing for certain, but it is not a typical reaction of his even in regards to such trauma," Severus told him. "I fear it could be Voldemort. He was giving Harry nightmares he couldn't remember before. Perhaps he is doing it again or is affecting Harry's mind some other way. The reality is, we have no idea what could happen, what Voldemort could be capable of doing to them now."

"We'll find out," Alexei said, "and we'll stop him."

Severus just gazed up at the hourglass again, hoping saving his sons was even possible.