Thanks for the constructive reviews, always appreciated! Check out Aileen O'Heidin and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor (and its sequel) written by XxNightAngelusxX. It's one of the best Next Gen Harry Potter fics I've ever read, and sorely underappreciated for the quality of writing that it is. the attention at least would be most appreciated. Thanks again. ~F

Chapter Twenty

A Reflection of the Past

Khadgar looked out forlornly upon the wide wastelands of Deadwind Pass. It had been nearly a year since the fall of the Horde at the Dark Portal, but the Archmage still felt very uneasy regarding some of the loose ends. Not only were there several vital clans completely unaccounted for, namely the Bleeding Hollow and Black Tooth Grin, but the leaders of the Alliance of Lordaeron still had very little understanding of what had shattered the Horde's conquest in the first place.

Khadgar himself had questioned many of the green creatures, desperately trying to understand, but only those who had been direct members of the Blackrock clan had had any information to give. Apparently two of their more numerous clans, the Stormreavers and Twilight Hammer clans, both under direct or indirect influence of the Warlock Gul'dan, had abandoned their posts near Quel'Thalas upon the eve of the fateful battle outside Lordaeron's Capital city, retracing their steps back to Hillsbrad and setting sail for the far western sea. Whatever they had unearthed from the raging water had been enough for Ogrim Doomhammer, the Warchief of the rampaging orcs, to peruse the renegade clans at the cost of their victory, and butchered both clans.

However, regardless of how he phrased the question, Khadgar could get nothing definitive regarding neither leader of the Stormreavers fate, the warlock Gul'dan, nor the existence of a human boy with the Stormreavers at the time of their demise. Sure, plenty of the orcs willing offered that there was a human in the Horde, but as to where he went or what he was doing; it was as though the boy had just vanished after they appeared in the northern part of the continent.

Khadgar paused mid thought, even as he watched the shade of the old keeper of the tower, Morose; amble past him with the old man's customary blinders in place. The tower of Karazhan was still in flux from the massive power backlash when Medivh was killed so long ago, and the spirits and phantoms had grown in magnitude to encompass even those of that time, like poor Morose. Khadgar could even talk with the old man every once in a while, but not generally for long and only occasionally did the keeper of the tower have any recollection of things in a semblance of order.

Returning to the thought at hand, Khadgar tried his hardest to remember that day, when the Horde had arrived on Lordaeron's shores for the first time. There had been a massive battle, yes, and they had pushed the Horde off to the east, toward the Arathi Highlands, but when he had stopped to regroup with the other Alliance leaders… he…had…

And Khadgar remembered the black haired youth that had the most powerful spark of magic he had ever felt before, and foolishly, not thinking in the moment he had directed the boy to Dalaran with his personal recommendation, to learn the magic of the Kirin Tor.

He had been such a fool as to forget what he had seen. Without even a pause in though, Khadgar swung the greatstaff of Medivh, Atiesh, in a semicircle in front of him, tearing open a rift in space to allow him to warp directly to the Violet Citadel. Naturally the governing body of the mages were not all present at the time, many personally taking leave to study the rift that had remained after Khadgar himself had obliterated the Dark Portal with raw magic, while others assisted in the creation of the Alliance watch post of Nethergarde.

He would be lucky to find just one of the other Archmagi to speak with regarding the boy, whose name Khadgar himself had never known. His appearance had still managed to create quite a stir among those of the lower ranks of wizards, and as he went from corridor to corridor, the apprentices in the Citadel parted to make way for him. Spotting a more senior wizard among the throngs of young men and women, Khadgar grabbed the older student by the arm, "Where are any of the Archmagi, I need to speak with one urgently."

"Only Archmage Kel'Thuzad is left with us right now," the young man said, his knees growing weak with how suddenly the master of Karazhan was close to him.

"Take me to him, immediately," Khadgar demanded, sprinting after the young man as he led the way up to the chambers of the Archmagi, and then across the floor to the great library of Dalaran. It was there that the man was found, in the restricted section of the library, pouring over a literal pile of dark tomes, and seeming oblivious to the world around him.

"Lord Kel'Thuzad…" the young wizard said, reaching a hand to attract the Archmage's attention. It was violently batted away as Kel'Thuzad glared over at them both.

"What part of I do not wish to be disturbed does no one in this Citadel understand!" he half roared at the young wizard, who flinched back in fright. "M…my Lord, Archmage Khadgar is here and wished to speak with you…"

Kel'Thuzad looked as though he was about to shout again, but paused, registering the words the young man had said, before composing himself and sitting up straighter, "Of course, my apologies, I should have realized that you would only disturb me under the most important of matters, you may go, and send him in."

"I am already here, Archmage," Khadgar said, stepping into the torchlight from the doorway to the forbidden part of the library. Khadgar could already feel the dark aura of the books that the other Archmage was so desperately researching.

"What can I do for you, o great master of Karazhan?" Kel'Thuzad said; only allow a small amount of venom to pour out at the title.

"I need to know what happened a year ago to the boy I sent here for training under the Mages of Dalaran. It would have been just after…" Khadgar started, but Kel'Thuzad interrupted him.

"Tobias Banu, I know… I was the one to train him you know… before…" the wizard trailed off, almost turning back to the books piled in front of him.

"What happened, I need to know…" Khadgar said urgently, stepping closer. He caught a few words of the book as he did so, and was revolted by the descriptions. They were tomes of Necromancy, an art all but forbidden by the Kirin Tor.

Kel'Thuzad sighed, long and painfully, "I gave that boy every opportunity possible. You were right; by the way, he was the most potentially powerful magic user to set foot in theses walls in a thousand lifetimes. But he… he threw it all away, and stole from the great library before running back to that devious orc spell caster…"

"Gul'dan…" Khadgar supplied, and Kel'Thuzad nodded.

"I followed him, all the way to the edge of Quel'Thalas, and fought with the warlock, trying to save Tobias, and bring him back here to Dalaran. But even as I threw my hearthstone at the boy to remove him from the conflict, that monster did something that overcharged the stone, and when it struck Tobias, he disappeared. Banished into the void or dead, I do not know. Such a loss of potential…"

Khadgar put a comforting hand on the Archmage's shoulder, "Indeed, but I fear that potential was already turned from us before we ever met the boy. It is clear from your story that he was in league with Gul'dan, but the question is for what end?"

"Well, we can't find out now, can we?" the Archmage said irritably, throwing off Khadgar's arm, "Tobias is dead and Gul'dan is who knows where. We can only wait and wonder…"

The Master of Karazhan paused for a moment at the other wizard's words, even as the man groped for the book he had been reading and returned to its pages. "If you have no further questions, please leave me to my grief and my studies. There is much yet to be done."

Raising an eye to what he was seeing before him, Khadgar stepped away, almost immediately being ignored by Kel'Thuzad. It was as though the man was possessed with finding some lost, and incredibly dark, technique to return the dead to life. Surely the man wasn't thinking there was a way to bring his old apprentice back to Azeroth?

Khadgar left, knowing from his studies of the remnants of Medivh's library that the darkness held no true powers to return loved ones to the mortal realm. Necromantic arts as well as the powers of the demons that granted it could only destroy and bring ruin. Kel'Thuzad was wise enough to learn that for himself in time, and then Khadgar was confident that the man would give up his foolish quest and return to his own life, in assisting the running of the Council of Six for the benefit of all Dalaran.

But it still left him personally with many questions. Khadgar had not said anything to Kel'Thuzad, but the fact that a hearthstone was instrumental in supposedly killing the boy apprentice of Gul'dan, Khadgar was rather suspicious that the boy was indeed dead.

True he had been nowhere to find, and he was sure that Kel'Thuzad's first course of action had been to try and scry out his wayward apprentice's location with magic, clearly to no avail. But the fact remained that it was highly unlikely that the boy had been killed in that, as a hearthstone only served to return the user to the place they called home. Could it be that the boy had not completely been what he had claimed?

At first, Khadgar entertained the idea that the boy had been a powerful demon in disguise, but that was impossible. Even while distracted Khadgar would have sensed something absolutely wrong if the boy had been a demon under an illusion, walking the streets of Southshore. Barring that, Dalaran had wards to protect themselves from demons, meaning that if he had been one, the boy wouldn't have been able to so much as enter the city.

No, there was some other explanation to this matter. Khadgar mused as he teleported back to Karazhan. It may be possible, incredibly slim for sure, but after all the Orcs had come from another world via a massive tear in the fabric of space and time. What if either the boy had been on their red world with them before being carried to Azeroth, or even perhaps he had come from another world altogether, one as of yet unknown to the denizens of Azeroth, wheeling out in the cosmos of the Nether…

There were so many questions, and it seemed answers were not going to be forthcoming ever. And unfortunately, as he set foot upon the causeway leading toward the Guardian's old habitation, Khadgar spotted an Alliance delegation awaiting him. More meetings between the various human nations and their petty squabbling for power over the ruined Nation of Alterac or the like, perhaps, unless it was their seeking the knowledge of the master of Karazhan to tell them what they must do to rid themselves of the orcs infesting Khaz Modan.

The largest section of orcs still in power in Azeroth were led by the Dragonmaw clan, situated around the dwarven kingdom of Grim Batol, and the main issue with removing them had been the red dragons that they had captive there. None in the Alliance were certain why the winged creatures sided with the green skinned outsiders, nevertheless they were the Horde remnant's most powerful ally, and all but prevented travel through the Wetlands below the mountain fortress, almost perfectly bisecting the land into North and South.

Khadgar would say that they must do as Lord Anduin Lothar would have had them do, and storm the fortress to rid their lands of the Horde, but there was few who had the strength that the old Stormwind Knight Captain had held, and fewer still with the grit to lead such a force into battle.

Khadgar would have chosen Turalyon for this, but the Paladin was more than preoccupied with just keeping the peace between the Alliance members, and monitoring the Dark Portal via Nethergarde, not to mention the beginnings of the rebuilding of the Nation of Stormwind. There simply was too much to do to deal with the Dragonmaw at the present time, which worried many, Khadgar included.

"What ho, Archmage Khadgar!" the lead knight said as their group rode up to the approaching wizard.

"What news do you bring?" Khadgar asked without preamble. The sooner these knights gave their message, the sooner they could return to their other duties, and leave Khadgar to his mysteries and other problems.

"We bring news from Nethergarde, Archmage," The knight said, and Khadgar felt his heart drop like a stone. It was unlikely that their troubles with the Horde were even close to over at this point. All his thoughts and worries concerning Gul'dan and his servants would have to wait, if this news from the area of the Dark Portal's rift was indeed true.

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Albus swept through the sea of students, his pace causing his normally stiff joints to creak in protest, but nevertheless, he had to put an end to the scene before him. "Argus!" he called, silencing the distraught man from ranting at the innocent students around him. In moments, he had swept past the front rows of frightened and pale faced students, gently removed the still and rigid feline from her place of public display, and beckoned to the caretaker to follow him.

It must have been apparent that he was brokering no arguments, as even the muted students parted to make way for him in his return. Professor Lockhart, ever to appear important, stepped forward as they were making their way out of the crowd of students, "My office is nearest, Headmaster… just upstairs… please feel free."

Loud and self important though the man may be, but at this moment Albus was grateful that deep in the blond's heart there was some shred of decency left. "Thank you, Gilderoy," Albus said as they past him, the man following in Albus' wake.

The frightened stares of the student followed them as they passed, but Albus had time only to meet the gaze of one student, the question already forming in his mind. Harry Potter stood somewhere near to the back of the crowd, watching with a level of concerned interest, but neither amusement nor malice, which both relieved and worried Albus all the more. He was certain that if the boy had been behind this, he would not have been old enough to keep a straight face with the amount of reaction that it had stirred.

But if Harry was not involved, then there was an even greater threat to the school afoot, which was cause for great concern. Both Minerva and Severus joined their procession up to the Defense against the Dark Arts Professor's office, all but ignoring the flurry of motion from the vain self portraits that lined the room as they gathered around the main desk.

The real Gilderoy lit candles and set them around the perimeter of the table to add light, for which Albus was grateful. His eyesight had deteriorated with age after all. Laying the feline upon the surface, Albus immediately went to work examining the inert form, bending almost to the point of touching the cat with his nose as he searched for any signs of life and what sort of magic had inflicted her so.

While his normal senses failed, and even his knowledge of wizardry fell short to discover exactly what had happened, Albus was somewhat impressed that the simple act of connecting with the ambient magic of Hogwarts came to his aid in this moment, allowing him to sense, and almost see the wafting of dark magic emanate from the furred creature. After some unsuccessful counter curses, he was finally able to come to a conclusion. "She's not dead, Argus," Albus said softly, silencing the room of both Lockhart's rambling and the Caretakers sobs.

"Not dead?" the man choked, looking through the wizened hands that had been covering his tear stained face. "But, why's she all… all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been petrified…" Albus confirmed. "But how, I cannot say…"

The man broke down again, but Albus continued in a soft, reassuring voice, "We will be able to cure her, Argus. Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

That seemed to be the end of the matter for the time being. Lockhart and Severus seemed to get rather at each other when the Defense Professor suggested that he brew the Restorative draft, but Albus did not pay any attention to either of them. Charging Minerva to deliver the petrified feline and the still sobbing caretaker to the hospital wing, he stared out of the office window for a long moment, his brilliant mind reaching back fifty years to the last time that the dreaded Chamber was heard of.

Oh, Albus had a sinking suspicion of who may be behind this, especially if Harry was clear of any wrongdoing, for which Albus was eternally grateful. But the real question was how Tom Riddle managed to once again infiltrate the school under Albus' watch. It seemed illogical that another would have both the abilities that the man possessed, as well as the knowledge and background to unleash the monster of the Chamber.

And like last time, Albus wondered what poor student would be standing ready to take the blame one news of these attacks (for he had no doubt that there would be more, little though they could do now to prevent them,) made it to the Ministry and the Daily Prophet.

If he could work fast enough, perhaps he could seek out the source of this and put a stop to the madness before anything got too out of hand. But it would require help, and of a most unusual nature.

Albus thought hard, approaching Harry for this level of assistance would be a gamble, but the boy had clear insight to the workings of the castle and his magic was unparalleled anywhere else in the student body. Surely there would be little harm in requesting the boy's assistance in locating the Chamber or at the least keeping his, and that of his follower's, eyes and ears open for any disturbances in the magic of the castle.

The Headmaster just hoped that he hadn't been too quick to pass judgment over the boy, and that he was sinisterly hiding some motivation for causing this disturbance, but there was little time to lose in this event, and Albus wanted nothing more than to avoid the catastrophe that had haunted Headmaster Dippet to his dying day.

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Nobu'tan couldn't say he was shocked when Professor Dumbledore summoned him up to his office a few days into November. He was however surprised when he entered and the old man was not seated behind his desk, but rather pacing the room in long, sweeping strides. "Ah, Harry. Please, have a seat." The Headmaster said, not even pausing in his rounds about the office, and Nobu'tan obeyed, curious watching the man's progress.

"Naturally you are curious as to why I've summoned you," Dumbledore said after another two laps around his office, "and I will firstly assure you that you are in no trouble, nor under any suspicion of the current events of the school. If anything, I wish to add your mind to mine in trying to solve this mystery before anything else had a chance to occur."

The straightforwardness caught Nobu'tan off guard, and he blinked once silently as he watched the Headmaster pause in his pacing, looking over at him through worn eyes that had lost their usual merry twinkle.

"I… yes, I accept." Nobu'tan managed to spit out, wondering what sort of game the old man might be playing, but knowing that he had little choice but to play along, for now.

"Good, I am very glad that you're willing to help me," Dumbledore said, before continuing his rounds of the office, "Not that you'd be aware of the matter, but I will fill you in on some of the details that surround the shock after the Halloween feast. Fifty years ago, a series of attacks on students occurred, perpetrated by someone calling them self 'the Heir of Slytherin'. Naturally that in and of itself contains quite a deal that we could discuss at a later time, but for the sake of keeping to the basics of this case, I will be brief for the moment."

Dumbledore stopped in his pacing and started to finger through some books on his walls, speaking even as he did so, "This heir, whether they were what they claimed or not, had some means of, according to legend, unleashing a monster into the school that attacked and petrified several students, much like Mr. Filch's cat. The disaster ended with the death of a student, before someone was caught and blamed for the attacks, although I still hold doubts that the person caught and punished was in fact the culprit."

The Headmaster gave up looking for whatever book he was seeking, and continued his rounds of the office, "If, somehow the same person, or another like the first is going about the same actions, they must be stopped before another death can occur. Hogwarts was nearly closed permanently last time, and I shudder at what the Board of Governors and the Ministry would want to do if word got out that it was happening all over again. For the time being, I urge you to inform your friends, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, to keep themselves safe and their eyes open, along with their associates."

Nobu'tan refused to react to the snipe at the Headmaster knowing about the connections that the warlock had made in the school, as he had already surmised that the man was learning the power of Mages already, as it sang in his blood from halfway across the school.

"I understand Headmaster, and what shall I do in the meantime as well?" he asked, wondering what the old man might have in store for him personally.

"I want to use your keen observational skills, and quite frankly, younger eyes, to help me investigate this matter, as well as tap into the Arcane magic that you have in abundance to see if we can root out the cause of this before it gets out of hand again. I believe it is time that we both put past events from last year behind us, and work together for the sake of the school and the other students." Dumbledore answered honestly.

Nobu'tan however, felt no duty toward the other humans here, as he wanted nothing more than to achieve his goal and return to Azeroth, but nevertheless he smiled, "I'll do it, but there has to be a level of trust between us for it to work, and I'm not only referring to me teaching you about the Arcane."

Albus nodded, silently accepting the terms that he would hold no more secrets from Nobu'tan. "You are quite unlike either of your parents, Harry. But I still think they would be very proud of the young man you have grown up to be…"

The orc raised human doubted that severely, if the old man only knew, but held his tongue. "Shall we begin immediately?" he asked, and the Headmaster smirked, the twinkle returning to his eyes at last.

"I had thought you would never ask," he said, beckoning for the warlock to join him as they left the office. Trekking through the familiar corridors with the Headmaster was a rather abrupt change of pace for Nobu'tan, as he had not thought that he would be working so close to his effectual enemy here, least of all for a common goal, but the danger to himself that this 'Heir of Slytherin,' presented could not be ignored either.

It would simply be his rotten luck, which he had stubbornly had since entering this world, that the unknown person or persons would be after Nobu'tan himself in the end, and he would have been pulled into this mess at a later time regardless.

The scene of the attack was much the same, although someone, probably Filch, had cleaned away the water that had been covering the floor from the girl's bathroom to the area where the red letters still gleamed in the torchlight.

The pair took opposite ends of the corridor, investigating everything that seemed out of place as they worked toward each other. Nobu'tan remained quiet, trying to draw upon the powers of the castle itself to lend any aid to his senses, just in case there was some clue that he himself wouldn't be able to find, like a magical signature, but there was nothing.

Although there were a handful of clues of a more mundane nature to be found," Professor," Nobu'tan called, staring at the nearby window as the old man came over. Pointing, the warlock drew the Headmaster's attention to the long line of spiders that were systematically leaving the caste through a tiny crack between the stone and the glass of the window.

"That is extremely odd," Albus said, frowning, "I've never witnessed spiders acting in such a peculiar manner. It could very well be related to what happened. Good work, Harry."

Turning back to an area of the stone floor near the wall, Dumbledore pointed, "I too, have found something out of place. See these marks here, scorch marks in an enchanted castle that should either have resisted such damage, or quickly repaired it of its own accord; a clear indication that whatever happened here was the work of some powerful spell or magical creature."

"Any ideas what may be the cause of such lasting damage?" Nobu'tan asked, wondering if the old man had already starting working out the question.

"A few notions, but it's far too soon, and there's too little evidence to support any of it just yet." The Headmaster said with a small shrug of defeat.

"Have your keen powers of the Arcane sensed anything regarding this area Harry?" Dumbledore asked after a few more minutes of searching. Nobu'tan had no answers for him however. "Nothing, at least that I can passively detect. There are rituals and small spells I could try, but they usually require a specific target, therefore knowing what I'm looking for is a large factor, otherwise I'm liable to find just about anything, related or not."

Then, wanting to divert attention from the inability for the Arcane to crack this puzzle wide open, Nobu'tan asked, "Sir, where did the water come from that was on the floor here that night?"

"That, my dear boy is a very good question, and luckily one that we may have a witness to account for," Dumbledore said, beckoning him and heading toward the girls lavatory. The young warlock halted just outside the door, unsure if it was permissible for him to enter, even in the company of the Headmaster.

"Do not worry Harry; I highly doubt that any girls have used this bathroom in years, at least with any sort of regularity." The older man reassured him, and hesitantly Nobu'tan entered, bypassing a large 'Out of Order,' sign.

The interior was rather gloomy for a bathroom, Nobu'tan thought. the mirror above the row of sinks was cracked and spotted in many places, and the young warlock wondered what this meant for the whole 'self repairing, damage resistant,' castle bit that Dumbledore had tried to feed him earlier, but then again, there could be a reason for this room being an exception to that.

The floor was exceedingly damp in places, while the stall doors were flaking and covered in scratches. One of them was even hanging barely onto its frame by rusted hinges, one of which had already broken.

"Myrtle," Dumbledore called, "Could you come out for a word please…"

There was a small gasp of surprise, and a pale, translucent head came floating up over the stalls. It was a girl, no older in appearance then the other students at the school, but the robes she wore were decided of an older style.

"Professor Dumbledore." She said respectfully, "Yes, what do you want to talk about." The girl eyed Nobu'tan for a moment, and the orc raised human felt rather uncomfortable with the look that the ghost gave him. It was frighteningly familiar to the look that Sarti would give him when the Succubus wanted to stay around and play games with him, not that he ever allowed that.

Suppressing a shudder, Nobu'tan listened as Dumbledore asked about the night of Halloween, and the ghost answered that she had indeed flooded the bathroom that night, on account of some other specter upsetting her at a ghost-only party that had been held in the dungeons the same night. "Did you happen to see or hear anything going on just outside when you flooded the room?" he asked in the middle of this, taking a moment where the Headmaster lulled in his questioning.

"I wasn't paying attention…" the ghost said dramatically…

"Ah, well. Thank you for the information Myrtle, and do keep a sharp eye out in future. There's something strange going on here, and we could use all the extra sets of eyes we can get to find out who was behind this." Dumbledore said, and the ghost child nodded enthusiastically.

When they turned to leave, she sent Nobu'tan a little wave, which he hesitantly returned, before quickly catching up with the Headmaster just outside the bathroom. "Well, I'm afraid that seems to be all that this scene will tell us for the moment, Harry." Dumbledore said, brushing a tiny specks on his robes, "I will review what we've learned, and when we next meet, say, next Saturday evening, I shall give you more information of what I've deduced from this information, as well as more background to what happened the last time. Hopefully from that, we can together start making some headway into this mystery."

"As you wish, Professor," Nobu'tan said, absently checking the time, and finding it an hour and a half after midnight. Dumbledore saw the time as well. "Yes, it's probably best that you go right up to your dormitory now, I shall escort you, just in case we happen upon any of the other teachers. Wouldn't want you to get into unnecessary trouble when you were assisting me, now would we?"

Nobu'tan shook his head, but was inwardly annoyed. Not only was he more than capable of getting from here to Ravenclaw tower undetected on his own, but he would have rather taken the time to continue preparing for a small excursion that he was contemplating, for himself and possibly Theodore and Draco, to head into the forest and learn how to fight alongside their demonic minions in real life situations.

Unfortunately, that would have to be postponed until some far distant time, as it seemed that Dumbledore was keen on taking his weekend evenings now for their little excursions around the castle to try and solve this case regarding the Heir of Slytherin and his mysterious chamber.

If Nobu'tan recalled correctly, wasn't there something in the book, Hogwarts, a History that mention Slytherin in connection to a hidden chamber? He'd have to look at the book the next opportunity it presented itself.

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Severus wasn't terrible sure what the purpose of himself and Albus learning the strange Arcane magic that Potter had shared with Miss Granger, who then in turn had started teach her fellow non-Slytherin students, but as the Headmaster was adamant that it would be useful to them, he spoke of none of his complaints aloud.

Still, he had to admit that it was actually was quite a rush when he first made connection to the magical powers that had been hidden dormant under the school, and proved to be a most intriguing subject to learn about every time he and Albus had their weekly meetings to discuss the progress of the school, and indulge in a bit of practice.

Although it was clear that the older man was quite distracted of late by the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets; Severus had never encountered anything like it in his own school days, granted James Potter and his little club of miscreants were trouble enough for him to not want to actively go searching for more in those days, but the fact that so much had happened in just the two years that Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts was rather… disconcerting.

When he had brought this notion up to the Headmaster, Albus had just looked at him for a long moment, "Naturally all this would start occurring the moment Harry returned to our world," he replied nonchalantly, as though it was the most basic fact of life there could be. "Aside from the mysterious means that the boy returned to us, there are simply far too many of Voldemort's old supporters that would wish harm on the boy to simply allow him a normal childhood. And that's not to mention the work of Voldemort himself to try again to kill the boy…"

Severus remained silent, the point conceded to Albus. "but that is not to say that this event in particular has, as of yet, anything to do with Harry, it simply had the bad luck to be occurring while he is here at Hogwarts," Albus continued, but the words didn't seem to quite reach his eyes, which had remained dull at the thought of the Chamber of Secrets and its constant threat to the school.

"You're still working with the Harry to try and find out what exactly is causing these attacks?" Severus asked. It had been a month since Halloween, and there had been another attack, this time on Muggleborn Gryffindor first year, Colin Creevey, who had apparently snuck out after hours to get food from the kitchens, although why was still unknown. They had found the boy's petrified body on the stairs leading back to Gryffindor tower in the night, and promptly brought him to the Hospital Wing, to wait with Filch's cat for the antidote from Professor Sprout's mandrakes.

"Of course, Harry has been extraordinarily helpful with the task," Albus said, smiling slightly, "I hope that through this, he may yet grow to trust us here at Hogwarts a bit more, and perhaps the remainder of out hesitancies with him will just disappear."

Severus highly doubted that, but said nothing. "And what more have you two discovered regarding the case?" he inquired.

"Unfortunately little," Albus said, his face returning to a grim frown. "The attack on Mr. Creevey was identical to that of Mrs. Norris, aside from the absence of water on the ground. We did find that the boy's camera, which he had been holding to his face, was ruined by whatever attacked him, which is an even more interesting puzzle, but not an answer to anything we already wish to know."

"Harry did make an interesting connection that whatever was happening was a reaction to the reflections, either from the water for the feline, or the many small mirrors within the camera, but that just leads us back to square one. We are no closer to discovering what spell or creature or artifact is causing the damage, and we are less likely to find out if its abilities are being modified or hindered by the circumstances of the attacks." Albus added, which seemed at least hopeful in Severus' mind.

"It's a direction at least," he commented, and the Headmaster nodded, casually conjuring an orb of frostfire in his hand, before letting the spell dissipate and starting over. Severus was rather envious of the old man in that regard. This new magic was something that Albus had thrived in, it being more instinctual and less of study.

Severus on the other hand had a more difficult time with it, but was still coming along, though his time to practice was more strict than the Headmaster, who was expected to be locked away in his office for hours on end, while Severus had classes to teach and essays to grade that sapped quite a bit of his time.

"How have your private sessions with Harry gone, while we're on the topic," Albus commented, and Severus smirked in spite of himself. The boy was quite gifted around a cauldron, knowing exactly what properties many herbs had, and even had interesting ways of combining them for potions and oils that even Severus hadn't heard of before.

"He is, quite unlike what I had expected," he admitted, having even been allowed to watch as the boy used various herbs to create enchanted ink for his quills, a process that while normally would have been dull and tedious, Severus had found quite interesting and extraordinary in its concept. "The boy treats everything in his life like magic, as though he was raised knowing nothing but a magical existence, and it comes to him as easily as breathing."

"That is the same impression I've come to conclude as well," Albus agreed, "Harry has grown up surrounded, not by the magical world we are accustomed to, but by magic itself. It beats within him like an extra heartbeat, and I doubt that anyone could convince the boy to go into the muggle world again and hide who he is. I realize that the Dursleys household was a terrible mistake now, and I won't attempt to make the boy return there again."

Severus nodded, that seemed to be for the best. Aside from Petunia's intense dislike for her sister and anything that reminded her of Lily, there was indeed a lack of magic that was quite disagreeable to Harry Potter, who seemed to be the height of a Magus, factoring in the powers he held that were by and large unheard of in the rest of the wizarding world. The legend that the boy had accumulated from simply living when he was one year old would only grow exponentially when, and if, it was revealed all that the boy could actually do. That alone would frighten his opposition into trying to kill the boy before he could realize his full potential.

Which led their thoughts back around to the beginning, "It makes sense then, why so much occurrs around the boy," Severus stated, piquing Albus' interest. "He is a natural repository of magical energy, a nexus if you will, and events gravitate toward him because of his power, even those who are his enemies and want him dead won't be able to leave him be even if they wanted to. Unconsciously they will be drawn to him."

"Which just indicates how much more work we have in making sure he's kept out of these disasters." Albus agreed, walking right into the trap that Severus had laid.

"Then how do you explain allowing him to walk headlong into this disaster, Albus. We know that the boy has Dark Magic, and uses it from time to time, albeit not recently. And no matter what he says, that fact alone negates any argument to the contrary. So why in Merlin's name are you allowing him to seek out whatever dark magic is attack those within the castle?"

"Your concern is valid," Albus replied, casually talking up a cup of tea that had been brought to his office by a house elf, unseen by Severus. "But I feel that there is merit to this, as the darkness that Harry uses, and the dark magic that undoubted is petrifying our charges, is still quite different. You see, as I've grown to understand the Arcane, I can tell that it is a pure expression of Magic, and therefore incorruptible by dark magic. Even when feeling powerful emotion, it requires one to collect themselves to cast a spell of any magnitude, even the intensity of fire magic. The Dark Arts, as you well know Severus, are born out of the wild rampage of emotion."

Severus saw the connection, "You believe that there is something else that the boy is hiding, like another magical ability that he possesses that he has conveniently not mentioned."

"More than that…" Albus pointed out, "I believe, that as our magic has its Dark Arts, that there is an opposite of the Arcane that is dark in nature, and that that is what Harry practices. As whatever is attacking our students is a somewhat known entity, in that it happened fifty years ago, it cannot be related to Harry and his powers, and whether the boy would admit it or not, I can tell that the school has grown on him during his stay here. Harry will do what he can to help us, even if he does not trust us, at the least to gain favors, perhaps freedom to go as he pleases during the summer."

The Headmaster held up a hand as Severus was about to argue that point as well, "I know, letting him wander freely is most unwise, and I certainly do not wish to allow that, but there has to be a point of compromise and trust to make this work, and if Harry refuses to trust us at all, he will not allow such a compromise to be made, let alone honor it. He needs to be given chances to show us that he is willing, and we need the opportunity to show him that we are willing to give him that trust, if he works to earn it as well."

"If you say so Albus," Severus replied, frowning, "I just hope that you know what you're doing,"