Izar was released from the hospital wing on Wednesday afternoon, having spent the last four days confined to the bed under Madame Pomfrey's watchful eye. The time had crawled by, each hour feeling heavier as the world outside carried on without him. His bruises had healed considerably, though a faint ache still lingered in his ribs, and the memory of Avery's attack clung to him like a shadow.
Oliver had told him he would come and meet him, but he had been given detention by Umbridge, for apparently speaking out of turn, after she mentioned that Hogwarts was a safe place and Oliver brought up his attack and that he had been in the hospital wing for several days.
As he stepped out into the cool corridor, the sound of students chattering and moving through the halls felt almost foreign after the sterile silence of the hospital wing. Izar tugged his cloak tighter around himself, still feeling slightly detached from everything around him. The normalcy of the bustling castle was jarring, a sharp contrast to the turmoil still brewing inside him.

He knew that word of the attack had spread, though the details were hazy for most. Avery and his own name had likely been whispered in every corner of the school by now. Despite that, the looks Izar received were more curious than hostile, at least for the moment.

As Izar approached the stone wall leading to the Slytherin common room, his steps slowed, hesitation creeping in. He wasn't sure he was ready to face the others yet, Draco's confrontation still hung in the air, and though Izar hadn't seen Avery since that day, the thought of encountering him again sent a chill down his spine.

Taking a deep breath, Izar steeled himself and muttered the password, the stone door sliding open with a soft rumble. The familiar cool, green-tinged light of the Slytherin common room greeted him, but it felt different now. Less like home. More like a place filled with ghosts of what he had been trying to escape.

The few students lounging around glanced up as he entered but quickly returned to their conversations. He appreciated the lack of attention for once. Izar crossed the room quietly, heading toward his dormitory. His mind was spinning, still trying to process everything that had happened. There was too much to think about, Avery, the Dark Lord, even his future felt uncertain now.

Just as he reached the door to his room, a familiar voice called out from behind him. "Back from your little holiday already, Lestrange?"

Izar turned, feeling his stomach twist at the sight of Avery leaning casually against the wall, a mocking grin on his face.

Izar's pulse quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm, his gaze locking onto Avery's. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice flat, unwilling to engage in whatever game Avery was playing.

Avery's grin didn't falter. "Oh, just curious how the little Slytherin traitor's holding up. Heard you got out of the hospital wing, thought you'd be limping a bit more."

Izar's jaw tightened, the temptation to lash out almost overwhelming. But he wasn't going to give Avery the satisfaction. Not again.

"I'm fine," Izar said evenly, his eyes narrowing. "You should be more worried about yourself."

Avery smirked, his lips curling into a cruel, satisfied grin. "Big words for someone who spent the last three days recovering from a beating," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. Slowly, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a letter, its parchment creased and worn. He waved it slightly in front of Izar, the flicker of triumph in his eyes unmistakable. "But me? I've got nothing to worry about."

Izar's frown deepened, his gaze shifting to the letter in Avery's hand. A cold feeling settled in his stomach as he spoke, his voice cautious but firm. "What's that?"

Avery's grin widened as he unfolded the parchment, holding it just out of Izar's reach, like a taunt. "A little something from our dear friend, Professor Umbridge. Seems she's taken a liking to me and my... contributions to keeping the school in line. This," he waved the letter, "is proof that no matter what happens, I've got protection."

Izar's heart sank, but he kept his face neutral, trying not to show just how rattled he was. "Protection? From what, exactly?" His voice was low, carefully controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

Avery laughed, the sound cruel and sharp. "From consequences, Lestrange. See, Umbridge and I have an understanding. I do a few favours for her, help keep certain... troublemakers in line, and in return, she gives me immunity. No detentions, no expulsion, no consequences for... little incidents like the one we had the other day." He leaned in slightly, his eyes glittering with malice. "I can do whatever I want, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Izar's blood boiled. The idea that Umbridge, of all people, would go so far as to protect someone like Avery, someone who had assaulted him, was sickening. But he couldn't let Avery see how much it affected him. Not now. Not when he needed to keep his head clear.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're still a coward," Izar said, his voice cold as ice. "Hiding behind Umbridge because you know, without her protection, you'd be out of this school on your arse."Avery's smirk faltered for a split second, but it quickly returned.

"Call me what you want, Lestrange. Doesn't change the fact that I can do whatever I please. And if you cross me again… or tell anyone what really happened…" He trailed off, his meaning clear, before tucking the letter back into his cloak. "You better watch your back."

Without another word, Avery turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing ominously down the stone corridor.

Izar stood there, his fists clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. The unfairness of it all Umbridge's blatant favouritism, Avery's smug invincibility gnawed at him. But as much as he wanted to lash out, to do something, he knew that any rash actions would only make things worse.

Taking a deep breath, Izar turned and opened the door to his inside, he slammed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Blaise, who was lounging on his bed reading, looked up from his book, eyebrows raised. "Well, at least we know your back," he laughed, "Rough day already?"

Izar let out a breath, pushing himself off the door. "You could say that."

Blaise closed his book, sitting up with a curious expression. "What happened?"

Izar hesitated for a moment. He wasn't sure how much to share, but Blaise had always been level-headed, not quick to judge. "Avery. He's got some kind of protection from Umbridge. She gave him immunity for... everything." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "It means he can do whatever he wants, and she'll cover for him."

Blaise frowned, clearly displeased. "Immunity from what, exactly? You think she's just going to let him get away with what happened to you?"

Izar nodded. "That's exactly whats going to happen, she's given him total immunity for it. And knowing Avery, he'll push it as far as he can. I don't think he's done with me."

Blaise sighed, pushing his book aside, his expression growing darker. "That's messed up, even for Umbridge. But you're right—Avery won't stop. He's the type to push until someone pushes back."

Izar sat down heavily on his bed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "I don't know what to do, Blaise. If Avery really has that kind of protection, I'm out of options. Even McGonagall won't be able to help."

Blaise leaned forward, his eyes thoughtful. "Maybe… maybe you can't take on Umbridge directly, but there's got to be something she can't ignore. Avery might feel untouchable, but no one's perfect. If he slips up, even Umbridge won't be able to cover for him without it blowing up in her face."

Izar nodded slowly, his mind already working. "I just don't know what I'm looking for. He's smart enough to keep things subtle, especially now."

Blaise gave a small, humourless chuckle. "Maybe. But he's also arrogant. Guys like him always think they're invincible until they make a mistake. If you can be patient, he'll trip up. You just have to be ready when he does."

Izar looked at Blaise, a sense of gratitude swelling in his chest. "I don't know what I'd do without you keeping me grounded."

Blaise shrugged, his usual calm returning. "Just looking out for you, Izar. That's what friends are for. But be smart about this. If you go after Avery, you're going to need a plan—and backup. Don't take him on alone."

Izar sighed, running a hand through his hair again. "Yeah, figure something out, a way to expose him publicly and get him to show his true nature to everyone."

Blaise smirked. "Now you're thinking like a Slytherin. Just… don't get caught in the crossfire. The last thing we need is you ending up in the hospital wing again."

Izar chuckled, though there was no real humour in it. "Trust me, I'm done with hospital beds."
He stayed in the room talking to Blaise, catching up on what he had missed for the last few days.

As Izar and Blaise continued talking, the tension slowly started to ease. Blaise's pragmatic approach, while sometimes bordering on cold, was exactly what Izar needed. It grounded him, reminded him to think things through rather than react impulsively.

They discussed upcoming classes, homework assignments, and the various bits of gossip circulating through the school. It was almost comforting to dive back into the mundanity of everyday life, but the shadow of Avery's immunity still lingered in the back of Izar's mind.

After a while, Blaise leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Izar carefully. "So, what's your next move?" he asked, clearly curious about how Izar planned to take on Avery without walking into a trap.

Izar sighed, his fingers tapping absently on the table as he thought. "I need to find a way to make Avery show his hand. Something that'll force him to act recklessly, in front of others. Once he's exposed, Umbridge won't be able to cover for him, no matter how much immunity she's given him."

Blaise nodded thoughtfully, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Just make sure it's something that doesn't blow back on you. Avery's dangerous, and Umbridge is worse. If this goes wrong, you'll be the one paying the price."

"Don't worry, I won't do anything unless I am sure it will work" Izar said, "I just need time to figure out it out."

After wrapping up his conversation with Blaise, Izar grabbed his cloak and made his way out of the Slytherin dormitory. His mind was still racing with plans and possibilities, but now wasn't the time to dwell on Avery. Olivers detention would likely be over soon and he would meet him before dinner.

As he stepped into the corridor, the cool draft of the castle brushed against his skin, a stark reminder of the winter chill that still clung to the air. The hallways were relatively empty, most students lounging in their common rooms, or in the Great Hall. It made for a quiet walk, something Izar appreciated as he headed toward the spot where he and Oliver had agreed to meet.

They hadn't been able to spend much time alone together, there were always others around when he was in the hospital wing and even when they have a few minutes alone, Madame Pomfrey would be around to check on him.
When Izar reached the snow covered courtyard, he spotted Oliver leaning against one of the stone columns, his arms crossed and a casual grin on his face. The sight of him immediately made Izar's heart lift, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

Oliver looked up as Izar approached, his grin widening. "There you are," he said, pushing off the column and closing the distance between them. "Was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."
Izar rolled his eyes playfully, "Like I could forget you" he smiled, "how was detention with Umbridge?" He asked, giving Oliver a peck on his lips.

Oliver's grin faltered slightly as he rolled his eyes. "About as awful as you'd imagine," he replied, shaking his head. "Another hour of lines with that bloody quill of hers." He held up his hand, showing the faint, red-etched words I must not tell lies still visible on his skin. "It's like she enjoys watching us suffer."

Izar frowned, his fingers gently brushing over the back of Oliver's hand, careful not to press too hard. "I hate that she's doing this to you."

Oliver shrugged, trying to brush it off, though his eyes betrayed a hint of frustration. "It's not just me. She's targeting everyone who doesn't fall in line. But it's fine. I can handle it," he said with a determined smile, though Izar could see the exhaustion creeping through.

Izar's lips twitched into a small, wry smile. "I know you can. But you don't have to do it alone."

Oliver's expression softened, and he leaned down to press another quick kiss to Izar's forehead. "I know. And that makes it easier. How are you, though? You shouldn't be worrying about me after what happened."

Izar sighed, leaning into Oliver slightly as they began walking together through the courtyard. "I'm alright, I guess. Just… I don't know. There's a lot going on, with Avery and everything. I want to focus on us, on just being… happy. But it's hard when there's always something else."

Oliver nodded, understanding in his eyes. "We'll get through it. We just need to stick together, alright?"

Izar gave him a grateful smile. "Alright."

They walked in silence for a while, the cold air crisp but refreshing, their hands linked together swinging back at forth as they walked. The two enjoyed the silence together as the walked before Oliver spoke.
"I've been writing to my parents" he said, "Telling them all about you" a small blush appeared on his face.

Izar glanced at Oliver, a small, surprised smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah? What've you been telling them?" he asked, his tone light but curious.

Oliver chuckled softly, giving Izar's hand a gentle squeeze. "Mostly good things, don't worry," he teased. "I've told them how brilliant you are at magic, how you've got this ridiculous ability to put up with all my nonsense… and how much you mean to me."

Izar felt his heart skip a beat at Oliver's words, warmth spreading through him despite the cool air around them. "You really told them all that?" he asked, his voice softer now.

Oliver nodded, his expression sincere. "Yeah, I did. They've been asking a lot about you lately. I think they want to meet you—properly, I mean. Not just in passing."

Izar's breath caught, the thought of meeting Oliver's family suddenly making his stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nerves. "Meet your family?" he repeated, glancing up at Oliver. "Do they know… about everything?"

Oliver's smile softened, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of Izar's hand. "They know. They know we're together, and they know you've been through a lot. They're invited you to come visit during Christmas break," he smiled, "I know your with your aunt, but if you could make it for a day? They just want to get to know you, see who's been making me so happy."

Izar's heart swelled at the thought of Oliver's parents knowing about them, accepting them. It was more than he had ever dared to hope for. "I'd like that," he said quietly, a small, genuine smile pulling at his lips. "I'd like to meet them."

Oliver's eyes brightened, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to Izar's temple. "Good," he whispered. "I think they're going to love you." He pulled Izar close to him and into a deep kiss, and in that moment it was just the two of them.
The peace did not last long however, as the sound of footsteps echoed in the courtyard. Izar pulled back slightly, turning just in time to see Professor McGonagall approaching, her usual stern expression in place but softened by something unreadable in her eyes.

"Mr. Lestrange," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I've been sent to fetch you. The Headmaster would like a word."

Izar's heart dropped. He glanced at Oliver, whose brow furrowed with concern. "What's this about, Professor?" Oliver asked, though Izar could already sense the weight of what was coming.

McGonagall's sharp eyes flicked between the two of them. "I'm afraid I can't disclose that at the moment, Mr. Butler," she said, though there was a flicker of sympathy in her tone. "But I assure you, it's important."

Izar swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the full weight of everything he had been trying to push aside. The Dark Lord, Avery, the pressure of the choices he had made—it all came rushing back in an instant. But Oliver squeezed his hand gently, grounding him.

"I'll be right here," Oliver said softly, his voice full of quiet reassurance.

Izar nodded, forcing himself to stand a little taller as he turned to face McGonagall. "Alright," he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. "Let's go."

As McGonagall led him away, Izar felt Oliver's eyes on him. He knew this most likely had to do with what Hermione had told him, but Izar couldn't shake the growing sense of dread gnawing at his insides.

McGonagall walked briskly, her usual composure intact, but Izar could sense that she wasn't entirely unaffected either. She always had a way of keeping her emotions well-guarded, but the flicker of sympathy in her eyes earlier was enough to confirm that whatever this meeting was about, it was serious.

When they reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office, McGonagall muttered the password, and the stone creature sprang to life, moving aside to reveal the spiral staircase behind it.

Izar took a deep breath, trying to steel himself as he followed her up the stairs. His mind raced, with worry about what would happen and Dumbledore would they reached the top, McGonagall gave him a brief nod before knocking on the large wooden door.

"Enter," came Dumbledore's calm voice from within.

McGonagall opened the door and stepped aside to let Izar in. As he entered the office, the familiar scent of old parchment and the soft hum of magical artefacts filled the air. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his blue eyes sharp but kind as they rested on Izar.

"Ah, Mr. Lestrange," Dumbledore greeted, gesturing to the chair in front of him. "Please, have a seat."

Izar obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest as he sat down. The headmaster's expression was calm, but there was a gravity in his eyes that made Izar's nerves spike.

"I imagine you're wondering why I've called you here," Dumbledore began, folding his hands on the desk in front of him.

Izar swallowed his throat dry. "Its to do with the Dark Lord, isn't it, Sir?"

Dumbledore's gaze remained steady, his blue eyes seeming to see far beyond the walls of his office. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the weight of Izar's question.

"Yes, Mr. Lestrange," he said gently. "It is indeed to do with Voldemort."

Izar's stomach tightened at the sound of the name, he wasn't use to someone saying it outbound . There was something about Dumbledore's tone that made it feel more real—more immediate.

"I assume you've already sensed the shift," Dumbledore continued. "The Dark Lord is growing more… restless. He is beginning to act on his plans more overtly, and I believe you are aware that his attention has turned toward you."

Izar clenched his fists in his lap, forcing himself to meet Dumbledore's gaze. "Hermione mentioned… Harry's been having visions" he admitted, his voice quieter, "the Dark Lord speaks about me?"

Dumbledore's expression softened, his gaze momentarily flicking to the window as if considering something beyond the room. "Yes, Harry's connection to Voldemort's mind is becoming more pronounced. It is a delicate situation, one I have been monitoring closely."

Izar swallowed hard. "But why me?" he asked, his voice tight with frustration. "I'm… nobody, I've distanced myself from my family, from everything they stand for. Why does he care?"

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Because, Mr. Lestrange, you are a symbol of defiance to him. You have chosen a path that opposes everything Voldemort represents. Your lineage, your heritage, your parents, it is significant to him. By rejecting that, you pose a threat. You are a reminder that not even bloodlines can guarantee loyalty."

Izar sat back in his chair, trying to process Dumbledore's words. He had always known his choices would have consequences, but hearing them laid out like this… it felt like a target had been painted on his back.

"Am I safe" Izar asked, "Is Oliver safe?"

Dumbledore's expression grew more serious, and a shadow seemed to pass over his normally calm features. He regarded Izar for a moment, choosing his words carefully before speaking.

"Safety, in these times, is a fragile thing," Dumbledore said softly. "As much as I would like to tell you that you and those you care about are safe, the truth is that Voldemort's reach is long, and his determination to reclaim those he deems valuable is relentless."

Izar's heart sank, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "But Oliver…" His voice wavered slightly, the thought of something happening to Oliver making his chest tighten. "He shouldn't be involved in this. This isn't his fight."

Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze softening but remaining steady. "Oliver is involved, whether he chooses to be or not. By standing by you, he becomes part of your struggle. I suspect he is well aware of the risks of being associated with you, but he is choosing to stand by you none-the-less."

Izar's hands clenched into fists in his lap. The weight of it all—the threat against himself, against Oliver—felt suffocating.

Dumbledore's voice, though gentle, was firm. "However, I assure you, we will do everything in our power to protect you both. Hogwarts remains one of the safest places in the magical world, and for now, I believe he will not act publicly"

Dumbledore paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in before continuing. "But as you well know, Voldemort prefers subtlety when he cannot act openly. He will not forget your defiance, nor will he ignore your growing influence among your peers."

Izar swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had never wanted this kind of influence or responsibility. All he had wanted was to escape the shadow of his family's legacy, to find a life that was his own. But now, it seemed as though his every choice had drawn him deeper into a conflict he couldn't escape.

"He'll come for me eventually," Izar said quietly, his voice tinged with both fear and acceptance. "Won't he?"

Dumbledore regarded him with a somber expression. "Voldemort will not allow any who defy him to go unpunished, especially one from a family so deeply entrenched in his inner circle. But it is precisely because you've chosen to break away that you give others hope, Mr. Lestrange. And that is something he fears far more than rebellion alone."

Izar let out a shaky breath. "And what am I supposed to do until then? Just… wait for him to come after me?"

Dumbledore's gaze softened, and he shook his head. "No, Izar. You will continue to live your life, to make your own choices, and to fight for what you believe is right. You will find strength in those who care for you—Oliver, your friends—and in your own courage."

Izar's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions. Courage. It seemed like such an abstract concept when the reality of the danger he faced felt so tangible, so close. But he knew, deep down, that Dumbledore was right. He couldn't let fear dictate his life.

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect him," Izar said, his voice firmer now. "To protect Oliver, and anyone else who matters to me."

Dumbledore smiled faintly, a look of quiet approval in his eyes. "That, Mr. Lestrange, is what sets you apart. And it is why you are so dangerous to Voldemort." He looked at Izar, his eyes seeming to ready deep into Izar's soul "We will be prepared for whatever may come. You are not alone in this fight."
Izar sat there, feeling the weight of responsibility settle onto his shoulders, but this time, it didn't feel as crushing. He had people by his side, people who cared, and as long as he had that, he knew he could face whatever came his way. "Thank you, Professor" Izar said, a smile on his lips as he met the professors gaze.
"Now, perhaps onto happier topics, I have been informed your Aunt, Andromeda Tonks, has taken over your guardianship from the Malfoys," Dumbledore said, a smile on his face as he did so.

Izar nodded, his thoughts drifting back to the brief, time he had spent with her in the three broomsticks. "I haven't moved in with her fully yet," he clarified. "But, we've met up in Hogsmeade, and been exchanging letters I'll be staying with her over Christmas. She's made it clear I can come anytime... It's just a bit strange, still."

Dumbledore gave him a thoughtful look, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. "Adjustments like these often take time, especially when it comes to redefining what family means. But I have no doubt that you will find a sense of belonging with her."

Izar hesitated, glancing down at his hands. "Yeah, I think I will. It's just... complicated. After everything with my parents… and the Malfoy's, it feels almost wrong to accept her kindness, like I'm betraying the family I used to have."

Dumbledore's voice softened as he spoke. "It's natural to feel conflicted, given the circumstances. But your parents made their choices, and you must be allowed to make your own. Andromeda offers you something they could not, a life free from the shadows of your past. It is not betrayal to accept that."

Izar sighed, feeling the weight of Dumbledore's words sink in. "I know you're right, Sir. It's just... strange, being part of a family that doesn't expect me to live up to some impossible standard."

Dumbledore smiled gently. "A strange feeling, indeed. But a good one, I think."

Izar allowed himself to smile. "Yeah. I guess it is." He paused before continuing. "She's even talked about helping me get settled after school, away from... everything. It's just nice to have someone care, you know?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again. "I daresay you will find many who care about you, Mr. Lestrange. You need only open yourself to those possibilities."

Izar nodded, feeling lighter as he stood up to leave. "Thank you, Professor. I'll keep that in mind."

Dumbledore offered a final nod, his expression one of quiet encouragement. "Remember, you are not defined by the choices of your family. You are defined by the choices you make, and you've already made quite remarkable ones."

"Thank you, Professor," Izar said quietly, nodding before turning to leave the office.

"Remember, Mr. Lestrange. The strength of your choices lies not in the path they follow but in the conviction behind them," Dumbledore said, his voice soft.
As Izar made his way toward the door, something caught his eye, perched on a shelf behind Dumbledore's desk was the old, worn Sorting Hat. Its brim twitched slightly, as if aware of his gaze.

Before Izar could turn away, the hat's raspy voice called out. "Ah, Mr. Lestrange. It seems you've found your way back to me."

Izar froze for a moment, glancing at Dumbledore, who gave him a small, knowing smile. It was rare to hear the Sorting Hat speak outside of the Sorting Ceremony, but Dumbledore didn't seem surprised.

"I remember you well," the hat continued, its tone almost contemplative. "You were a tricky one, indeed. I had my doubts about placing you in Slytherin, didn't I?"

Izar's chest tightened. He had only ever told Oliver bout his sorting experience. But now, standing here, speaking to the hat, it all seemed so real. "Yeah," Izar said quietly. "You wanted to put me in Gryffindor."

The Sorting Hat's brim curved slightly, almost as if it were smiling. "Indeed I did. I saw courage in you, a kind that often hides beneath the surface, masked by fear and uncertainty. It's no wonder you felt drawn to Slytherin, there was much to fear in defying the expectations of your family."

Izar swallowed hard, memories of that day flooding back. "But I wasn't brave enough, was I?" he muttered. "I asked you to put me in Slytherin because I was scared."

The hat's voice softened. "Fear is not the absence of courage, Mr. Lestrange. Choosing to survive, to endure, is its own form of bravery. But make no mistake, I still see the Gryffindor in you, as I did that day. Perhaps now, more than ever."

Izar blinked, taken aback. He had spent so long thinking about what might have happened if he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, if he'd had the strength to choose differently. And yet, here he was—still fighting, still making choices that went against everything he had been taught.

"I made the right choice for you at the time," the hat continued. "But now, your courage speaks for itself. You've grown into someone I always knew you could be."

Izar's throat tightened. He didn't know what to say. After all these years, after everything he had been through, to hear the Sorting Hat tell him he had that kind of strength… it meant something.

Dumbledore's voice cut through the moment gently. "The Sorting Hat rarely makes mistakes, Mr. Lestrange. But it is also not infallible. What matters most is not the house you were placed in, but the choices you make once you're there."

Izar nodded, the weight of those words settling into his chest. He had always wondered if he would've been better off in Gryffindor, but maybe it wasn't about the house at all. Maybe it was about who he chose to be, regardless of where he started.

With a final glance at the hat, Izar nodded his thanks. "I guess I've got some Gryffindor in me after all."

The Sorting Hat's brim twitched once more. "More than you know."

Izar left the office with a strange sense of clarity, the words of both Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat echoing in his mind as he stepped back into the corridor, feeling just a little more certain of himself.