CHAPTER 29

22 March 1993 - Slytherin Common Room, 3:49AM

The fire crackled warmly throughout the expansive room, providing just the right level of ambient comfort for deep thought and relaxation.

The latter certainly wasn't the case for Cassius Warrington, who was currently tucked into a corner of one of the sofas facing the fireplace. He was wrapped in his favorite whizzing snitch blanket and covered in multiple Honeydukes chocolate wrappers, currently working his way through his eighth chocolate frog. Placed gingerly next to him were three letters, two opened, the other unopened.

He couldn't sleep, hadn't been able to sleep for the past weeks, mind entirely too overrun with too many thoughts he wasn't able to face.

It's been a little over two months since he and his associates'…confrontation of Jim Potter, all wearing the face of the boy's identical twin brother. The plan had been perfect, and had worked perfectly. It'd been immensely satisfying then, showing the dirty halfblood the true superiority of Pureblood strength and ability. It was too bad that the blood traitors Weasley and Rossum had interrupted, but they'd all managed to escape before getting caught and ruining the plan.

'It was going so bloody well too!' Jim Potter had truly believed his brother had orchestrated his demise, and very nearly killed him in a combat duel as retaliation. Cassius had been absolutely delighted during the entire fiasco, watching with bated breath for Harry Potter to meet his well-earned demise.

But then, everything had gone to complete shite.

Jim Potter, Gryffindor Boy Wonder Extraordinaire and the Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived, had hissed at the abominable magical snake he and his twin had freakishly conjured, single-handedly establishing himself as a Speaker of Salazar Slytherin's sacred tongue. Shock and fear had been the dominant emotions running through Cassius when that moment had occurred. Because if the countless rumors were to be believed, the true Heir of Slytherin. Which also meant that Jim Potter possessed a unique connection to the Dark Lord that made him infinitely more dangerous than Cassius had ever anticipated.

An asset. A useful and (as loathe as he was to admit it) powerful tool that could be swayed to their side and seduced with…darker ideologies. If Jim Potter was truly the Heir of Slytherin, then he could be utilized to finally rid Hogwarts of the mudblood filth and general riff-raff that loitered Hogwarts.

Unbidden, Cassius turned to look at the two opened letters. Specifically, the two that he'd received the two months prior from Cousin Cassilda specifically asking for a status update regarding his Potter Project. Foolishly, he'd chosen not to reply, too focused on his revenge plan against the Slytherin Potter. He'd been so sure that he'd be writing to Cousin Cassilda to tell her (gloat really) about successfully infiltrating Harry Potter's circle and subsequently annihilating him.

Obviously, that was no longer an option. He wasn't even sure he could still infiltrate Potter's circle at this point, and quite frankly, he didn't bloody want to. He didn't want to have to pretend to be chummy with a stupid halfblood git who thought entirely too highly of himself and abilities.

But Jim on the other hand…

With deliberate slowness, Cassius reached for the third letter, subconsciously startled that his hand was lightly trembling. It was marked from 'A Very Special Friend', the same special friend that had provided Cassius with the modified Polyjuice Potions and the intel on Jim's detention schedule to catch him unawares. He'd initially assumed that it was an older and very clever Slytherin, possibly a Sixth or Seventh Year who was using the 'Heir of Slytherin' moniker to continue the Founder's noble work.

With Jim Potter's true reveal however…Cassius was now convinced that Heir Potter was the one behind all the schemes, had been behind all the schemes. Mrs. Norris had been a test run for the Parselmouth, moving on to bigger prey when he'd succeeded. Felling his filthy mudblood mother had proven his ruthlessness and commitment to the Dark Lord's cause, however twisted that logic was. Still, he'd done what was necessary. While Warrington wasn't sure exactly how Jim had pulled off the Petrifications, he was confident that a Parselmouth descended from Salazar Slytherin himself would have an arsenal of dark spells at his disposal for that exact purpose. If Heir Potter was determined to bring about this noble cause, then Warrington would ensure he did his rightful path. He would succeed, and Cousin Cassilda would have no choice but to be pleased at his accomplishments.

Slowly unfurling the letter, Cassius took his time to read over the instructions. Included in the letter was a separate note containing a unique runic sequence that Warrington recognized from his work in Team Backdoor. Specifically, the overly loopy chicken scratch George Weasley claimed to be handwriting. The minute he finished reading the last word of the letter it erupted in its customary 'POOF!' of green flame. The runic array, however, did not. Cassius quietly tucked that away in his robes to be used at the appropriate time.

Unbeknownst to him, Kyna had been watching his every move to report back to the Hydra, specifically Mara who would relay it to the Claimant's intermediary serpent. While the puff adder hadn't been able to read the specifics of the runic array parchment, she did recognize that it was a series of runes arranged in some form of triplicate with what looked to be repetitions of Kenaz…or Laguz, she wasn't too sure based on the angle. Either way, she hoped the young Claimant would be clever enough to sort it out before the Warrington boy succeeded.

Potions Lab, 11:54AM

"Slytherin Potter, please stay behind once you've completed your station cleanup."

Harry and Neville exchanged a nervous glance, but otherwise continued their tasks to clear their work areas. Once complete, Neville squeezed Harry's shoulder as the boy approached the Professor's desk, with Hermione, Theo, and Blaise giving curious glances as to what was going on. One by one the students left the classroom in an orderly manner, finally leaving the Professor and his student alone.

"To my office." Not waiting for a response Severus swept into the room as Harry dutifully followed behind. Once seated, the older wizard had the Slytherin elf drop off a full tea set for the both of them to enjoy. A few minutes comfortably ticked by as the two wizards enjoyed their beverages and pastries before Snape asked:

"So, when were you going to tell me that you suffered a stress-induced psychic seizure?" Harry choked and sputtered for a few seconds, wondering out loud how the hell he'd discovered that! "Easily; read the lips of you and your classmates during lunch a week ago. Muffliato may be effective in interfering with sound, but it does not distort the movement of your lips to those clever enough to look for it." He smirked as Harry grumbled.

"I'd…I'd planned to tell you, but things just kept piling on after the fact. I lost nearly half of my Inner Circle in a fell swoop, and mum is…mum is still…indisposed. I've been running on autopilot with all of that plus schoolwork plus working on Lockhart's research teams. Really haven't had enough time for much." He paused to take a sip of his tea before looking directly into Severus' eyes with as much sincerity as possible. "I'm sorry I haven't reached out earlier to you Severus, truly." The Potions Master stared unblinkingly for a few moments, before nodding in acquiescence.

"Well enough. We'll do some guided Occludic decompression and meditation exercises, their effects maximized by the linking of our minds. Quite frankly it will aid me as well, it's been a rather stressful few months." Harry's expression softened in understanding, feeling a touch guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Severus. I've been so caught up with myself I haven't really given much thought as to how all of this has affected you, especially with mum. How…how have you been?" Severus winced before sighing.

"I've…I've been better Harry, I very much appreciate the sentiment. It's exceedingly difficult to see my sister-in-all-but-blood laid Petrified in a hospital bed, a feeling worsened by seeing three of my very young students in the same position. I have yet to be able to sort out the mess of the Secret, no thanks to Tom Riddle's enduring Slytherin precociousness." He sneered impressively, causing Harry to snicker despite the severity of the older wizard's expression.

"Yeah, it's a right nightmare. The Hydra hasn't been much help either."

"Oh?" responded Snape. "Tom didn't inform the Hydra of the Fidelius? Huh. I am surprised it's not in the know, considering its enduring significance as the Founder's living relic and position of power within Slytherin House." Harry just blinked, realizing that he hadn't thought to ask the Hydra if they did in fact know of the Fidelius, and, circumstances permitting, if they were - as a collective - the actual Secret Keeper. He internally berated himself at his stupidity as he endeavored to do exactly what later in the evening.

"Yes, there's that…and the fact that they do know who the Heir of Slytherin is and all about the general commotion that he's been causing." Snape choked on his tea as Harry politely snickered.

"Well?! Who on earth has been causing all of this?!"

"Ah, I should have clarified." The older wizard frowned. "While the Hydra does know who the Heir of Slytherin is, they cannot tell me because they've been sworn to secrecy. They can neither confirm nor deny that the Heir of Slytherin is an Emeritus who may or may not have been Prince or Consilierii. Oh, and he or she may or may not be a Parselmouth." The Potions Master snorted while refilling his tea cup, though his expression remained no less thoughtful.

"I wonder…" he said after a few moments.

"Wonder what?"

"Perhaps I can inquire to the Hydra about the Heir of Slytherin. There is an exceptionally slim possibility that I may be on equal rank with this individual, if and only if we are both Consilierii. If said Heir is a Prince, then…well…we can forget about that option."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "It's worth a shot for sure. We know it's not Tom behind this."

"Indeed. And the most recent Prince Emeritus perished under rather suspicious circumstances, Death Eater activities aside."

"Hang on, Regulus Black was a Death Eater?" Severus sighed in apparent disappointment.

"Unfortunately, the expectations of House Black were his ultimate undoing. Walburga and Orion were rabid pureblood fanatics, true believers in the dogma. When Sirius ran away in his Fourth Year, all of his parents' attention was directed towards Regulus. He was to take his place among the Death Eaters, to bring about the Dark Lord's 'noble cause'." He sneered, expression twisting viciously as Harry mentally tucked away those tidbits. Sirius, as expected, tended to be quite cagey when discussing his estranged (and now deceased) little brother.

"Nevertheless, I reckon it would be worth the effort." He set his tea cup aside. "Let us begin our exercise. Are you ready?" Harry nodded in agreement. "LEGILIMENS!"

And with that, Snape established a psychic link with Harry's mind, carefully evaluating the state of his mindscape. The integrity of his secondary thoughtstream was intact with no abnormalities (like a looming unwanted Personality) detected. Harry's memory palace, an expansive landscape of the apple orchards at the Evans Keep, was in good condition. His actual memories weren't the apples as one would expect. They were buried deep within the trunks of specific trees, contained in glistening amber sacs like tree sap. There were minor stress fractures present, remnants of his seizure that hadn't been healed or repaired. Severus was internally relieved to see that there was no evidence of Harry abusing his growing Occlumency abilities to repress his emotions. That was a danger they couldn't hope to risk.

After completing his assessment, Snape guided Harry through a series of joint Occludic decompression and healing meditative exercises, the cobra symbol glowing unseen on his hidden cuff as it provided an additional psychic bolster. About half an hour later, Severus broke the connection in satisfaction.

"Merlin's beard! Don't think I'll ever get used to that sensation." Harry shook his head in a Padfoot-like manner, before refilling his teacup to take a hearty sip as he nibbled on a still warm croissant.

"Indeed. But is it a necessity." Severus stared unblinking at Harry, before seemingly making up his mind. "I'd intended on waiting until the summer to do this, but now is as good a time as ever. Especially with a mad Petrifier on the loose." He snorted, causing Harry to chuckle.

"Well, what is it you plan on showing me?"

"It's a unique Occludic ability called psychic shelling. The ability to create a protective mental shell around your thoughtstream. Or thoughtstreams if the Occlumens is advanced enough. It is the most useful defense against a Legilimens subtly hijacking your mental processes once he or she launches a probe. It can be rather effective too; while you're busy protecting the sanctity of your memory palace, the invading Legilimens has dug roots into the very forefront of your mind, a virus left to hibernate and spread unchecked. This technique will help stave or entirely prevent such an event from occuring."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds good to me."

"Excellent. LEGILIMENS!"

An hour later, an exhausted Harry and Severus formally ended their session. They caught up on a few other topics as they enjoyed a late lunch courtesy of the Slytherin elf. Once complete, Harry thanked Severus profusely for all his help, promising to come by more often and not as a result of going into shock-induced seizure.

"I'm glad to hear it," replied Severus. "Now pip pip, hurry along to your class. As laissez-faire as Professor Lockhart is in his approach, I doubt he would appreciate tardiness. I have some things I need to cover on my own end."

"Oh?" asked Harry curiously, securing his knapsack on his shoulder. "What are you up to?"

"A nice long talk with a certain painting of Nobby Leach. He's been avoiding me for the past month, somehow conveniently never there when I need to speak with him. I am highly suspicious that he may, in fact, be the elusive Secret Keeper we seek, which would explain his behavior. I asked Mab to…keep him on hold once he returns to his portrait." He smiled deviously as Harry snorted before bidding Severus a warm goodbye and making his own exit.

An hour later, a furious Severus would exit from his Floo, once more equal parts incensed and disappointed to discover that his inquiries had yielded absolutely nothing useful.

"If I never hear the words 'I'm not the Secret Keeper' ever again, it would be too damn bloody soon!"

16 April 1993 - Greenhouse 3, 1:44PM

With gentle deliberation, Fred Weasley carefully spritzed the repotted mandrake plant, taking extra care to not get any of the distilled aloe water solution into its eyes. The little beasties were plenty temperamental, and the younger Weasley Twin was in no mood to further agitate it. By some great miracle (or ultra-devious prank, he still wasn't sure), he'd let Lockhart convince him to help out with brewing the Mandrake Restoration Draught. The DADA Professor was thoroughly impressed with his potions brewing prowess, and had somehow managed to convince Professor Snape - a noted non-fan of the Twins' mischief making - to allow him to assist once the brewing process started.

"Ugh, what I wouldn't give for a Bubblehead Charm." George wrinkled his nose in disgust, causing his twin brother to start snickering. The older twin was using his free period to support his brother's mandrake grooming efforts. In truth, it was a bit of a ruse for him to spend some time with his younger twin. As a consequence of being in Lockhart's research project teams (and his private pep talk with each brother individually), both had been more or less…invested in their coursework than they otherwise would've ever been. While they still spent time planning for their future joke shop, a considerable amount of their pranking time had been diverted to their studies. For the first time ever, both had signed up for extra elective classes (serious ones) for the following year; Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

A groan of complaint from Cormac McLaggen interrupted Fred's thoughts, causing him to frown. McLaggen had spent some time as persona non grata in Gryffindor House for his use of the m-word slur against Hermione. His reputation seemed to be on the rebound once Jim's parseltongue abilities had been revealed, allowing the boy to divert his energy and focus harassing to maligning the Boy-Who-Lived as the true Heir of Slytherin. It was working too; many in the house avoided Jim like the plague, disgusted and terrified that he would end up killing them in a pique of Slytherin-induced anger. While Fred wasn't the biggest fan of Jim Potter, neither he nor his Twin approved of him being harassed by the McLaggen gobshit.

"Oh quit your whining McLaggen, we're almost done." Amy Wilkes sneered at the blonde boy, causing him to narrow his eyes dangerously as the Twins snickered rudely. The two younger Gryffindors were still on very bad terms; not only had he not apologized to Hermione for calling her a mudblood, he'd tried to hex her behind her back when she'd physically intervened to prevent Cormac from jinxing Jim behind his back! An incensed Amy hadn't hesitated to cast a Boils Hex at the boy's face, before the two had devolved into a mini-duel that Professor McGonagall had walked in on. Both had lost a combined 30 House Points and were assigned a two full weeks worth of detention, the first round of which they were completing by helping with Mandrake repotting.

A cleared throat from Neville was enough to break the tension, a subtle encouragement for the Gryffindors to complete their task. Longbottom had received special permission to assist Professor Sprout with the Mandrake cultivation, a testament to both his prodigious Herbology skills and his Gran's desire to start a mandrake farm closer to home.

About thirty minutes later, Neville carefully put aside the last of his repotted Mandrake, sighing in satisfaction. He went around to inspect the others' work, pleased to see they'd all followed his instruction and done quite a good job of things. "Well, I think that ought to do it!" Looks like we can finish up early here." He directed Fred and Cormac to help him drag the remaining dragon dung against the greenhouse walls, while Amy and George put away their tools. Once complete, they went through the necessary decontamination protocol in a small adjoining clean-up room.

"Have you ever wondered why they look so human-like?" asked Amy quietly. "The mandrakes I mean. Can't imagine that they're actually sentient…right?" She looked uncertain and a touch green at the prospect that they were actually growing little plant people for the strict purpose of pulping them into chunky bits of soup.

"Nah," replied Neville confidently. "Not even close. Normal Muggle mandrakes are the roots of the Mandragora plant, and ancient Muggles used them for healing, though they're poisonous if you take too much. Sometime long ago, before the time of Hypatia, some wizard bred a subspecies of magical Mandragora to use as potions ingredients. All the legends about mandrakes actually come from our magical version."

"Okay," said Amy, "but why did the mysterious wizard breed them so that they would act human-like? I remember Sprout saying a few months back that they were acting like 'moody teenagers' and that they'd probably be throwing wild parties soon." She wrinkled her nose in confusion.

Neville grimaced a bit before responding. "Well, she was joking about the parties ... I think. As for the rest, no one knows for sure, but the theory is that by making them look like tiny humans and giving them the ability to mimic certain human behaviors ..." he coughed diplomatically, "you get some of the benefits of incorporating a human sacrifice into your potion without actually killing anybody." Everyone looked rather unnerved at that theory, with Cormac actually turning a light shade of green. None spoke again as they continued their decontamination tasks. Satisfied, Neville gave them the green light that they were good to go.

Grabbing their belongings, the Gryffindors made to leave the greenhouse with Cormac leading the charge. About two feet away from the exit proper, there was a soft flash of light from the floor beneath his feet, and suddenly George Weasley yelled at the top of his lungs.

"CORMAC, FREEZE! DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP!"

Startled, the others looked at him and saw that George's face had gone pale. He was staring in horror at an increasingly pale McLaggen's feet which they now noticed were surrounded by softly glowing runes he'd unwittingly stepped upon. Runes that were alternating repetitions of Kenaz, Nauthiz, Jeraa (inverted widdershins), and quite a few others that made George's face grow paler. He then noticed that the rune a now-sweating Cormac was standing on was one of three; the other two lined the floors of the opposing walls, glowing to signify their activation.

"Is-is that what I bloody think it is?!" Amy looked horrified, eyes widening in recognition at the runes they'd briefly learned about in Team Backdoor (her secondary research team).

"What the bloody hell is it, Wilkes?! What the hell is going on?!" Cormac's tone was frantic, but he was still following George's instruction by remaining stock still.

"What the hell is going on here?" asked Fred and Neville simultaneously.

"These, um ... these are ... explosive runes." George said in a shaky voice. While he was trying to put on a brave face, it was obvious he was terrified. "I learned about 'em from Lockhart." Cormac balked in horror, becoming like stone for fear one wrong step would blow him to smithereens.

"And just how explosive are we talking about?!" asked a horrified Neville.

George studied the runes for a second and then looked round the greenhouse. "With all this reactive dragon dung in here? Easily enough to blow up this whole building and everything in it." Neville swore as Cormac whimpered, barely resisting the urge to break down in tears.

"That's not the worst part." The boys' heads whipped to Amy. "See the connector lines between the three rune sequences?" She gestured toward the long glowing lines that connected each rune set to the other. "Those connector runes are part of a duplicator set per Lockhart's teaching, I'm guessing a series of six. These are the first three…" Her voice trailed off weakly as her face blanched.

"So…where are the other three?" Neville's question went unanswered for a few moments, before Fred swore viciously in response when it finally clicked.

"The Hospital Wing." Four sets of eyes widened at Fred's whispered statement. "Think about it; whoever is behind all this is trying to blow up the mandrakes just when they're almost ready for harvest. Once they're destroyed, what's left? The bloody witnesses that ended up bloody Petrified!" His expression turned notably grim. "No loose ends." He ran a frustrated hand over his face as the other Gryffindors exchanged nervous glances.

"Right!", exclaimed George with a loud clap of his hands. "Here is the plan: I'll stay here with Cormac, he shouldn't be alone at this time. We'll cast a Protego Orbis so we can…hopefully…make our way out of this one. Fred, you'll take Neville and Amy far away from here, at least 100 yards away. Then find a competent Professor to go with you to the Hospital Wing. None of the runes will detonate unless Cormac steps off this one, but we have a little under two minutes since these are timed. Not sure if you lot will make it in time-"

"Ugh Neville, you bloody idiot!" And with that non-sequitur he unholstered his wand and cried "EXPECTO PATRONUM!", summoning the massive glowing form of his bear Patronus Elby. He'd finally succeeded in casting a corporeal form a mere three weeks prior, a feat he was more than grateful for at the current moment. "Go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him to go to the Hospital Wing immediately! There are explosive runes that are set to go off!" And with that Elby raced off to deliver his message.

"Blimey," said Amy in wonder. "I'd love to learn to cast that."

"I reckon you will soon enough." And with that, Fred cast a Featherlight Charm on his, Neville's, and Amy's feet and as one, instructed the others to leap over the rune Cormac stood on. The boy sputtered indignantly, wondering out loud why he couldn't do that.

"Because you'll blow up the minute you do, idiot." Cormac frowned but didn't respond as George leapt into the rune circle with him. He and Fred exchanged a very tense glance, but ultimately nodded at each other before Fred raced off to the Hospital Wing with his charges.

"Right then." George clapped an arm around Cormac and with much more confidence than he felt, demonstrated how to cast a Protego Orbis shield to the terrified but determined boy. "Well…here goes nothing!"

In record time Neville, Fred, and Amy made it to the Hospital Wing, relieved to see the Headmaster already there with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. Flitwick and McGonagall were facing the easternmost wall where the faint glow of the second set of runes lined the floor. Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore stood protectively over the Petrified occupants, ready to cast protective spells at a moment's notice. Their beds had been moved and placed together, close to the entrance of Madam Pomfrey's office. Amy and Neville made their way over, ready to cast spells to assist. Fred went to stand by Flitwick and McGonagall, wand unholstered and ready to assist.

"Mr. Longbottom. An update?" asked Dumbledore gravely.

"I reckon now's a good a time as ever sir." The three Professors exchanged terse nods and began to cast their protective spells as the Gryffindors added their own to bolster the effects.

Suddenly a loud and powerful 'BOOM!' as the explosive runes flared to life then subsequently erupted. The glass panes of the window exploded and mingled with large chunks of earth debris, pelting against the triple shield that held up. Fred in particular winced in pain, already starting to feel the strain on his magic for keeping up a Protego Maxima shield. Thin fissures appeared over their shields due to the sheer strength of the explosive force, spreading past to appear on the surrounding walls and masonry as the Hospital Wing's foundation quaked and trembled. Dumbledore and Pomfrey had cast overlapping Protego Totalums over the patients, with Neville and Amy providing additional magical support with their more feeble (but no less effective) Protegos.

From the farthest point to their collective left, the three witnessed Greenhouse #3 be blown sky high as a floating magical orb containing two students shot up like a cannonball through the greenhouse's damaged ceiling. Shards of broken glass and the screaming mutilated remains of fifty burning Mandrakes rained down upon the area below. Thankfully, no one was nearby to be harmed by the plants' death cries.

Soon the explosions ended, and slowly all the Infirmary's occupants allowed their shields to lapse. A panting Fred quickly made his way out of the room to go to help his Twin, followed closely by McGonagall to help administer first aid. Dumbledore and Flitwick began to diligently apply Reparos over the shattered windows and the wall, helping to restore the wing back to its initial state. Neville and Amy assisted Madame Pomfrey gently move the beds of the Petrified patients back to their original positions. They all worked uninterrupted for a few minutes before the sudden 'pop!' of the Slytherin house elf sounded throughout the room.

"Headmaster! Come quickly! There's been a terrible incident in the Potions lab!" Without hesitation Dumbledore grabbed the elf's hand before quickly disapparating. The room's remaining occupants all exchanged horrified glances, wondering what would constitute an incident so terrible that Professor Snape of all people would require a house elf's intervention.

Fifteen Seconds Later…

Albus could only stare aghast at the horrific sight before him.

The entire Potions Lab had been blown to smithereens, nothing more than chunks of masonry, ash, melted equipment, and broken potion phials that covered several students in Snape's NEWT-level class. The entrance had been blown in as well, nothing more than a big hole in the wall.

In one corner of the room was a barely conscious and bloodied Percy Weasley protectively huddled over a blacked out Penelope Clearwater. Ravenclaws Roberta Lutterworth and Christopher Hemsley laid in a bloody heap against one of the walls, well beyond consciousness as spilled unidentified potions hissed ominously around them. Martin Beccles of Hufflepuff was slumped in a corner, head covered with a melted pewter cauldron with both legs broken in unnatural angles. Slytherins Nerys Orpington and Gabriel Lithgow were covered with multiple slabs of debris, slowly and steadily bleeding out.

As for Professor Snape, the man was slumped against the chalkboard, right arm and left leg twisted in an awkward angle with a deep and bloody gash nearly splitting his face in half as he breathed in shallow breaths.

"NITWIT! ODDMENT! BLUBBER!" Three simultaneous pops sounded throughout the room as the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw house elves appeared, gawking in horrified shock at the scene before them. "Kindly transport Professor Snape and his students to the Hospital Wing, and provide Madam Pomfrey all the necessary assistance she will need to help their healing process." The elves immediately got to work, conjuring stabilizing stretchers and transporting all the injured persons to the Hospital Wing in less than two minutes.

Turning to Tweak, Dumbledore asked for his assistance for clearing the debris and returning the lab back to some semblance of normalcy.

'And to think, I thought things were finally starting to look up!'

AN 1: The chapter title "Forti Animo Estote" is in reference to the Gryffindor House Motto in canon, which translates to "Be of good courage". A most-fitting title for this chapter IMO.

AN 2: The concept of 'psychic shelling' will be relevant in an upcoming chapter and some chapters of Book 3.