Chapter One
The Journey Begins



Leah Andrews gazed up at the large green steam engine, thick waves of airy smoke curling out from the top. All around her the station was packed with screaming, crying, excited children, all saying their final goodbyes to their moms and dads before they boarded, just like Leah would be; just like she was. She gazed around her in wonder: when had her life become this? More like a fairy tale than reality; so impossible it was unbelievable. If she had known that there was a world like this one, and that she was going to become a part of it, would she have ever been content with the life she'd lived for the last eleven years? Had she been content? She didn't know; she'd had her own share of ups and downs throughout the years.

Standing beside her, her dad looked lonely and lost. Leah didn’t blame him at all; according to Professor McGonagall this was the closest that he would ever come to knowing his daughter’s world. Sure, he would hear all about it from her during holidays and through letters, but he would never experience it first hand, would only ever understand half of what Leah would soon know. Leah only hoped that he would not be too lonely without her for the next ten months in which she’d be gone; that he would not recluse into himself like he’d come so close to doing before.

Tears formed in her eyes, both happy and sad. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered to him.

He knelt down to her level and wiped her eyes dry. “And I you, Sweetie. You’re all I have in the world. Just promise me now that you won’t lose sight of your old man while your busy pulling rabbits out of hats, or whatever it is you’ll learn.”

“Never.” She laughed weakly at his lame joke.

“Your mother would be so proud,” he sighed. “I’m so proud of you. You make sure you learn lots though, ‘kay Leah? Make new friends, and bring home lots of fun stories to tell me during Christmas.”

“Of course.”

“I love you.” He stood up again and stared determinedly in the direction of the train, fighting against his own tears. “You’ve got Soot? All your clothes, books, wand?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, I suppose that’s it then.” He lifted her heavy trunk into an empty compartment on the train and put it on a rack over her head. Leah carried Soot in his cat basket and set him on one of the bench seats, where he lifted his tiny head out of it to peer at her with his amber eyes. Her dad stroked the kitten’s head once, kissed Leah goodbye, and then left, disappearing between the crowded bodies filling the platform and the thick grey steam coming from the train.

Leah sat back on the bench beside Soot, sighing wearily, and closed her eyes as the train gave its last warning whistle and pulled out of the station. She was ashamed to admit to it, but she was relieved that her dad had left so quickly. The last thing she wanted was a big deal over her leaving, travelling across the country to attend a school that they’d never seen and had no proof even existed except for an old lady’s word and this green engine. Her and her dad could do with a little space, she knew; the last few months at home had been tense what with her impending departure hanging over them, too reminiscent of the atmosphere of the house five short years ago.

She remembered when she had first found out that she was a witch, that she could do magic. She remembered feeling as if certain incidents in her life suddenly made startling sense in her mind. She remembered how she had been helping her dad clean cages in the veterinary practice that he ran out of their small home in Toronto when they got the news.

“Leah, go get some clean rags from the laundry, will you? These ones are filthy.”

“I’m already on it, Dad.”

Leah entered the house through the adjoining room that separated their living quarters from the clinic quarters. She went to the laundry room, opened the dryer door, and shuffled through the freshly laundered garments until she found the three white cleaning rags her dad had wanted. Then she went to the kitchen tap and poured herself a drink of water to quench her dry throat.

She was about to return to her dad when a sharp knock sounded at the front door. Quickly finishing her water and setting the rags down on the table, she opened the door, revealing a tall, thin woman with a pinched expression, her full head of grey hair set into a tight bun on the back of her neck and her eyes framed by a thin set of black square eyeglasses.

Before Leah could open her mouth to speak, the woman said, “Are you Miss Leah Andrews?”

“I am,” said Leah warily. The woman’s face didn’t change expressions at Leah’s answer. Her whole demeanour was tense and uncomfortable, and yet Leah got the impression that this was not a woman to be easily pushed around; Leah admired that.

“Is your mother or father here, Miss Andrews? It is imperative that I speak to one or both of them, as well as with you.” She glanced over each of her shoulders in an anxious gesture so swift that if Leah hadn’t already been watching her, she would have missed it entirely.

“My dad’s in his vet clinic. It’s joined to the house; I can go get him now.” She nodded and Leah turned away to get him, but then she looked back to the woman and asked, because it would seem rude not to, “Would you like to step in? It’ll only take a moment.”

When Leah returned with her dad in tow, the pinched-face woman was sitting stiffly in the plush armchair in the living room. She stood up when they entered and shook her dad’s hand. “Mr Andrews, thank you for joining me. My name is Minerva McGonagall, I am the Headmistress of a small boarding school in British Columbia, and I’m here to talk to you about your daughter, Leah.”

“Neil, please, Ms McGonagall.” He took a seat on the loveseat across from her and Leah sat down next to him.

“I have something for you, Miss Andrews.” McGonagall held out a thick envelope made out of some type of parchment and written on with a bright green ink. On the front it was addressed: Miss L. Andrews, The Attic Bedroom, 153 Spruce Hill Road, Toronto, Ontario.

Leah ripped it open curiously and read the letter inside. She skimmed through talk of some Kootenay Academy of Magic, wands, cauldrons, spell books, and her eyes narrowed in confusion and doubt with each new word she read.

She looked up at the woman before her. “This is a joke, right?”

McGonagall did not smile, or show any other expression besides her unusual stillness. “I assure you Miss Andrews, that it is not. You are indeed a witch.”

She didn’t notice at first when Soot decided to jump out of his basket and curl up on her lap, but he meowed softly and she petted him, allowing him to offer what little comfort he could. The tiny black and white kitten had been a going away present from her dad �“ a stray that had found its way to the clinic a couple of weeks back and to whom Leah had grown an instant liking to. He didn’t seem nervous at all about what they were going into, but then again, he was so brave for so small a thing and Leah had never been.

“Um, hi. Is anyone sitting here? Only, everywhere else is full.”

Leah looked up, surprised. Leaning against the doorframe, looking at her expectantly, was a girl of about her own age with long golden hair and light blue eyes that anybody, Leah included, would be insanely jealous for.

“No, go ahead.” The girl smiled slightly and took a seat across from her. “I’m Leah.”

“Gwen.”

“Is that short for Gwendolyn?”

Leah had only meant it as an innocent question; she had honestly been curious. But she saw Gwen’s blue eyes flare in irritation, a frown replace the small smile that had been on her face only seconds before, and she drew back in shock. “I’m sorry, I �“ I just wondered, is all.”

Gwen calmed down, although it looked as if it took much effort, and leaned back in her seat. Outside the window, trees and houses flew by at a dizzying speed, their details becoming a blur, each separate thing’s colours blending into each other. “It’s okay. Yes, Gwendolyn is my full name, but I hate it; I don’t know what my mother was thinking when she named me. I go by Gwen, and Gwen only.”

“I think Gwendolyn’s a lovely name.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, but she didn’t look mad anymore. “Merlin, you and the rest of the world! Ah well, what can you do about it, right? My parents won’t let me get a name change, so I’ll just have to live with it. I’ve accepted that by now.” She propped her feet up on the seat cushions opposite and relaxed.

“It’s really not so bad.”

“Yeah it is, but thanks.”

Not long later the food trolley came down the train, carrying sweets and refreshments for the passengers. At the sound of the wheels squeaking along the tread, Gwen jumped up and flung open the compartment door, vanishing into the hall. When she returned, her arms were laden with unfamiliar packages and she dumped them onto an empty seat in an unceremonious pile.

“I’m starving,” she declared when Leah stared at the heap of sweets with wide eyes. Gwen started to open a small dark blue package and took out the chocolate frog that was inside. As if it sensed a chance at freedom, and as if it was a real frog instead of just a candy one, it hopped off her palm, landing on the glass of the open window before getting caught by the wind and blown away.

Flabbergasted, Leah asked, “What was that?”

Gwen looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted wings and declared herself a flying horse. “A chocolate frog of course … and it flew out the window too! Just my luck.” She slumped back in her seat in defeat.

“I know it was a chocolate frog, but why was it hopping?”

Comprehension dawned on Gwen’s thin face. Her eyes were wide and pitying. “You’re Muggle-born.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Man, that sucks.”

Leah shifted in her seat, having grown suddenly very self-conscious. There was so much she didn’t know about being a witch �“ what if this was one of those things that she should have? “Is it a bad thing, being a Muggle-born?” asked Leah. “If it is, I had no idea.”

The corners of Gwen’s mouth turned down into a frown again but this time it was more in a frustrated way. “No, it’s not; and don’t let anybody tell you that it is,” she said in a direct contradiction to her earlier statement. “There are lots of people who think that magic should be kept in only the old pureblood families, but they’re just a load of stuck up pigs. You shouldn’t need to worry about that though, hardly anyone thinks that at Kootenay, it’s not allowed; if they did, they’d most likely be going to Durmstrang or,” she shuddered, “Hogwarts. Don’t let it fool you though, because in the real world, there are a lot of people who’ll hate you on principle based on your blood status.”

“Are Durmstrang and Hogwarts other magic schools?” asked Leah excitedly, eager to hear more. For the moment she disregarded Gwen’s slight shiver, mistaking it as a sign of coldness. “Where are they?”

“Yeah, but you don’t want to go there, trust me. Really into the dark arts, they are. Durmstrang’s in the far north somewhere, nobody’s really sure where, and they’ve always been a bit of a fishy lot. And Hogwarts is in Scotland. It wasn’t always so bad, or so I’ve heard; my dad went there and in his time, it was one of the best schools for learning about magic that there was. But it’s been a strange place for like, over a decade now �“ Death Eater children going there and all. People don’t like talking about it much. There’s even a rumour that You-Know-Who runs the place.”

“Who?”

She growled. “Sometimes I forget how little people like you know at first. There should be like, an intro course or something before you enter the Wizarding world. You-Know-Who is not his real name, of course, but nobody dares to say his true one, out of fear. But he’s a wizard, an evil one, as bad as you can get they say, and Death Eaters are his followers. About twelve years ago he was trying to take over the Wizarding world, wanting to bring Muggles and Muggle-borns into submission. He started in England, took over Hogwarts, and then branched out into France, Germany and Spain soon after. I don’t know much about it, but like I said, my dad attended Hogwarts and remembers that time; says the world was a different place in England: you couldn’t trust anyone, and those you did turned under suspicion; people were dying every other day. That’s why he moved to Canada. McGonagall used to teach at Hogwarts �“ Transfiguration, I think �“ and after the school had fallen, she came out here to give students like us with less-than-desirable blood status an education. She’s a worldwide hero for it.

“Oh, look! Here’s her card.” Gwen held out a pentagonal shaped card with a picture of the same stern-looking woman who had visited Leah nearly a month ago. She was sleeping, her small chest rising slowly as she breathed. “Every chocolate frog comes with a Famous Witch or Wizard’s card,” she explained. “You can keep that one if you want.”

“Thanks,” Leah murmured. Her head was still spinning in circles from all the information Gwen had just relinquished. Evil dark lords; Death Eaters; taking over the world? What kind of place was this that she was joining? Wanting to move on to a lighter topic, Leah asked, “Before, when the frog was hopping, was that magic? Some spell or enchantment put upon it?”

“Sure was.” And just like that, Gwen was smiling again. It wasn’t mocking or angry towards Leah; Gwen didn’t care whether she had magical parents or not; and despite all of the dire threats against who she was, Leah couldn’t help but feel that with her new friend by her side, her going to Kootenay Academy of Magic would be something that she would never regret.

Smiling herself, Leah flipped over the card in her hand and read the back.

Minerva McGonagall, animagus, founder and Headmistress of Kootenay Academy of Magic. Considered by many to be among the greatest witches of modern times, McGonagall is particularly known for her strong involvement in the war in Britain, and for her sacrifices in the first and second Battles of Hogwarts. She was also a great friend and colleague of the late Albus Dumbledore before the time of his death in June of 1997. Professor McGonagall enjoys reading long histories and raisin biscuits.

Meanwhile, Gwen was searching through her pile of sweets and a moment later she pulled out a small red bag with the logo Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans printed on it. She picked out what looked like a jelly bean, dark yellow with tiny black pinpricks dotting it, and put it in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully and then said, “Hmm, mustard flavour. Here, try one; be careful though, when they say every flavour, they mean every flavour.”

They were having fun with the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, trying to guess each flavour that they got. Leah got some normal ones like chocolate, strawberry, grapefruit, and coconut; and also some stranger ones such as pork chop, grass and hummus. Gwen was nibbling the end of a funny green one cautiously when the compartment door opened and a tall, skinny boy with shockingly bright red hair looked in on them.

“Ergh, sprouts!” said Gwen, her face puckered in distaste. “Yuck!” And she threw the unfinished candy out of the window. Still grimacing, she looked up at the boy. “Who’re you?”

The boy stood there stoically. “Cory Weasley,” he grunted in annoyance. “Look, do you two have the time? We should be getting close, I imagine.”

Leah shook her head, but Gwen continued to stare at him. Her eyes were wide and popping and Leah was afraid they’d fall out if Gwen didn’t gain control over herself. “Weasley!” she gaped. “Like, The Weasleys?”

Cory Weasley rolled his eyes as if this were just the reaction he’d expected and snapped, “It’s a more common name than you think.”

“So, you’re not related to, like, the most famous Wizarding family in the world? The ones who invented Weasley Wizarding Wheezes? The family who knew the bloody Chosen One?” If Gwen kept up like this, Leah was sure she’d go into shock. She’d never met anyone else who’s moods had the ability to do such a drastic flip.

He refused to meet their eyes as he said, “No, I’m not from England. I was born in Romania for Merlin’s sake.”

“Oh.” Gwen sat back and started eating another Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean from her bag, no longer interested in the irritated boy before them.

“Well, I’ll just be going then, I only came to ask for the time.” And he turned around and walked away, the sliding compartment door slamming behind him.

Leah turned to face Gwen. “That was rude, harping on to him about who he’s related to.”

She sighed. “Maybe. But, Leah, you don’t understand, if he were one of the famous Weasleys, we could all be in danger. You-Know-Who hates them; they’re number one on his hit list. Not to mention that it would be seriously cool if he were. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Still …”

“Come on, lets get our school robes on. He was right, we should be almost there.”

They took their newly purchased black robes out of their trunks and slipped them on over their Muggle clothes. The sky had grown dark outside and a chilly wind came in the window. Gwen walked over and clasped it closed. A starry sky surrounded a bright crescent moon, intercepted at regular intervals by the mountain peaks they were travelling through. The train was climbing higher and higher, chugging up the hills at a speed that should be impossible: they had, after all, been on the opposite side of the country only that morning. Gwen and Leah looked out the window, their breaths catching in amazement at the view. A clear indigo lake shimmered before them and behind it, nearly shielded completely from view by even more mountains, a small castle rose majestically against the black sky.

“There it is,” breathed Leah. She had never seen a more beautiful sight. Gwen nodded beside her, too stunned to speak. They continued to watch as the castle grew closer and the train slowed to a gradual stop at the station. They got off the train with the rest of the students, milling around the platform. A loud, deep voice resounded against the walls, echoing and impossible to miss.

“First years! First years, follow me please! Over here!” A man with a dark complexion, brown eyes, and a gentle countenance was waving his hands in the air, drawing the first years to him. All of the older students were getting into the long line of carriages parked on the side of the road and being drawn away in the direction of the castle.

Gwen and Leah found themselves crowded amongst the rest of the first years, the man waiting until the noise died down before addressing the group at large.

“Welcome, first years,” he smiled, “to Kootenay Academy of Magic. I am Professor Thomas and I will be your Charms professor this year. I know I speak for all of the staff and students when I say that we are overjoyed to have you here with us and we hope that the next seven years will be pleasant ones for all of you. Now, everyone, line up behind me in pairs and we will begin our traditional walk up to the castle where it will be decided what house you shall be in and where a magnificent feast is calling our names!”

They started up the winding path to the front doors of Kootenay Castle. Gwen and Leah walked side by side; ahead of them, two rows from the front and walking with a short boy with sandy blonde hair, was Cory Weasley, the redhead from the train. He was talking animatedly with his companion and was acting not at all like the serious, grumpy boy they had met only minutes ago. As they strolled under the moonlit trail, Professor Thomas explained to them about the qualities of each of the three school houses.

“While you are at Kootenay,” he said, “your house will be like your home: you will sleep in your house dormitories, attend classes and eat with others from your house, and spend free time in your house common room. There are three houses, each representing different valued qualities in its students, and you will be sorted according to these. The three houses are Athos, meaning strength and endurance; Talos, standing for courage and friendship; and Chiron, signifying intelligence and kindness.

“While you are here, your accomplishments will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose points. The house with the highest number of points at the end of the year will win the House Cup, a great honour. Each house is wonderful in its own way and you should all be proud of wherever you go.”

Now Professor Thomas was quiet and he held the great double doors to the castle wide open for them. Far away, the first years could hear the excited low hum of hundreds of students awaiting them. “At the sorting ceremony,” said Thomas, “there will be a stone and once your name is called you shall sit before your fellow classmates with it in your palm. Once the stone decides which house you will be in, it will shoot a light up into the air of that house’s colour, and you will join the rest of your housemates at your respective table. A yellow light means Athos, red means Talos, and blue means Chiron. Any questions?” At the terrified shaking of heads and small whispered no’s, the Charms professor let them into the room with the rest of the students and towards their future.

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Chapter Two
The Sorting



Leah, Gwen and the rest of the first years followed Professor Thomas into the huge Great Hall. It was an enormous, impressive room with three long tables set up side by side to seat the students and another, shorter one set perpendicular to them at the front of the room to accommodate the staff. The ceiling was high and tall stone pillars lined the center of the room, engraved with pictures of three animals holding various poses: a giant dignified-looking elephant, an eagle with sharp pointed talons, and a regal stag with a broad chest and long antlers: the house symbols. These animals were also hung over their respective tables on a banner against a background of their house colour.

Leah recognized Professor McGonagall seated in the middle of the Head table; when she saw Professor Thomas leading the first years, she stood up, clapped her hands together, and silence immediately fell upon the Hall. She appraised the group through narrow eyes, nodded briefly to Thomas, and announced, “Let the Sorting Ceremony now begin!”

A three-legged stool was placed before everyone and a small clear jewel that looked very much like a huge diamond was set upon it. Thomas was given a scroll of parchment and he unfurled it carefully. “Now, when I call your name, please pick up the Sorting Stone and sit on the stool to be sorted. Allen, Ashley!” he called loudly.

A small girl with dimples and a mouth too big for her face stepped shyly out of the crowd and took a seat on the stool, picking up the stone so it sat on her open palm, visible to the whole school. Only a second passed before a stream of bright blue light shot towards the ceiling. There was a roar of applause from the Chiron table and she hopped off the stool and joined them under the banner with the stag.

Then, Professor Thomas called the second name from the list. “Andrews, Leah!” Leah cursed her last name silently and walked to the stool. She sat down, cupped the small stone lightly in her hand, and waited with baited breath. The Hall was silent. Leah glanced over at Gwen, still standing with the others that had yet to be sorted, and received a thumbs up in return. Then, a moments pause, and a vivid red light appeared. The Talos table, under the banner with the eagle, was applauding but Leah barely heard them as she sat on an end bench; she’d been so terrified that she wouldn’t be picked at all, that she would be sitting on the stool for hours and hours until McGonagall snatched the stone away from her and declared that there must have been a mistake and she should get back on the train before it left. It seemed as if this whole day must be a dream.

And now the clapping had quietened and started anew, and Leah realized that she’d missed another sorting while she’d been lost in her own thoughts. A black-haired girl with tight ringlets bouncing around her ears stumbled on her way over to the Chiron table. The girl sat next to Ashley Allen and they whispered together excitedly before returning their attention to the ceremony.

Professor Thomas read the next name. “Bones, Maria!”

“Bones, Maria” became the first to be sorted into Athos house when the stone gave off a cheerful yellow light, and she joined the table under the banner with the stately elephant on it.

“Bratwurst, Sean!” After a minute the light glowed red and the boy whom Cory Weasley had been talking with walking up to the castle joined Leah at the Talos table.

“Davis, Landon” was next and he joined the Athos table; and “Patil, Lata” waited hardly a second before the stone declared her a Chiron. Several more children who’s names Leah did not catch followed before, “Seward, Gwendolyn!”

Leah had noticed a strange thing throughout the sorting. Sometimes, the stone seemed to take next to no time at all in deciding where a person best belonged, shooting the colour into the air as soon as they touched it; but other times, the stone took much longer. Gwen took the greatest amount of time yet. The whole hall waited patiently through several minutes as she held the stone until, finally, just as people’s eyes were starting to drift, a deep red light came out of it and applause filled the silence. Leah clapped loudly along with everyone else as Gwen plopped down next to her and shook the outstretched hands of several classmates who had greeted her.

“Congratulations!” Leah grinned at her friend. She felt oddly buoyant and had an unexplainable feeling that at that moment, Gwen did too.

“Thanks!” said Gwen.

They turned their heads back to the front and watched as the line gradually dwindled until only a few students were left. “Weasley, Cornelius” was called to the stool and he walked steadily, glanced once nervously in the direction of the Head table, and Leah was sure that she saw McGonagall nod in response, before picking up the stone and sitting down. Many of the teachers, she noticed, were paying particular attention to Cory and while most of their expressions were merely mildly curious, a single dark-haired, muscular man with even darker eyes and an angry expression did not look only curious: he looked … ravenous, Leah thought.

“Whatever house he’s in, I hope it’s not this one,” whispered Gwen. “He was weird on the train.”

Leah was still wondering about the Headmistress’s familiar nod and the dark teacher’s glare, and she shifted in her seat so she could see better. “I didn’t find him so bad.”

“Oh, he’s probably really nice and all, but you watch, he’ll be one of those annoying little suck-ups whom all the teachers simply praise and adore, who cares more about himself than anything else! And if he’s somehow not, I’ll … I’ll do a million cartwheels through the common room in my bathrobe �“ and that’s a promise!”

A second later, another red light came out of the stone, and Gwen groaned audibly and slumped low in her seat. Leah greeted Cory as he sat down opposite them, then laughed and smiled at Gwen. “Well, I hope you’re good at cartwheels. Don’t worry, I’ll be there to help you to the Hospital Wing once your arms fall off.”

“He hasn’t proven himself yet,” she grumbled.

“Wolff, Brian” was sorted into Athos and then the ceremony was over. Professor Thomas rolled up the scroll of names and waved his wand over it and the stool, which promptly vanished, and took his seat at the Staff table. McGonagall stood up again and said to the entire school, her face stony.

“And that commences this year’s Sorting Ceremony. Welcome students, new and old, to another year at Kootenay Academy of Magic. I am sure you are all exceedingly famished right now, so I will withhold the announcements until after the feast. Tuck in!”

With a clap of McGonagall’s hands, food more delicious and mouth-watering than Leah had ever seen in a single room together at one time appeared. There were steaming bowls of stew with diced vegetables and noodles. Pitcher after overflowing pitcher of pumpkin juice. Large potatoes, and pies, and chicken, and everything that Leah and Gwen could ever have imagined was before them. They took some of everything and enjoyed it all.

But try as she might to persuade it otherwise, Leah’s mind could not help but keep on drifting to what she had noticed during Cory’s sorting. She watched the Headmistress making her way through her dinner, chatting solemnly with Professor Thomas, and it would not have held her attention so if the strange dark-haired professor did not also keep his eyes fixed upon the pair, an almost feral look in them as he took a swig from his hip flask.

Gwen had followed her gaze across the Hall, her eyes focusing on the man. “Creeps you out, doesn’t it?”

“I wonder what his deal is,” Leah replied.

Sean Bratwurst looked up from his slice of apple pie. “Don’t know. Maybe Scott, my brother, does. He’s a third year, he can tell us what’s up with him.” He nodded discreetly in the professor’s direction.

Sean called over a tall boy with a stocky build and the same sandy-coloured hair and freckles as himself to where they sat. But Scott didn’t have any more clue as to what the professor in question was like than they did, and he just shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

“I’ve never seen him before,” he said, frowning. “Must be the new DADA teacher though; we’ll need a new one now that Professor Cassidy’s left to go have her baby.”

“DADA?” asked Leah.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts,” said Scott. “You know … defensive spells, counter jinxes, dangerous creatures … all that kinda stuff.”

“Do you think he’ll be any good?” said Gwen.

Across the table, Cory’s head shot up and he answered furiously, although the question had not been directed toward him. “Well, he can’t possibly be worse than some of the ones my parents got. What’s it matter anyways? He’s only here because McGonagall was desperate, and it was either him or get rid of the subject all together for an entire year.” The rest of the small group stared at him in shock, their mouths hanging open. “What?” he snapped, and he turned back to his supper without another word, ears tinged red with embarrassment.

Gwen whispered to Leah, “What’s got his wand in a twist?” and reached across the table to claim some more chocolate ice cream.

Soon enough, the conversation switched to their families, and Leah only listened half-heartedly as the people around her swapped stories. According to Sean �“ Scott had left to rejoin his own friends �“ he and his brother were Muggle-borns like her and this made her feel slightly better, because despite Gwen’s earlier reassurances on the train, she still felt nervous about her lack of magical background. It was good to know that she wouldn’t be much farther behind the rest of the class because of it.

“I’m half and half,” Gwen was saying. “My dad’s a wizard, mom’s not. He told her all about it when they were dating, but she didn’t take it very well at first. As far as the story goes, my mom was convinced he was a loony on the run and started hollering at the top of her lungs for the whole street to hear! He had to Obliviate her until he could tell her again privately. But she’s cool with it now.”

They all laughed, even Cory produced a small chuckle, and Sean asked, “What about you, Leah?”

“Oh, um, I’m Muggle-born too,” she replied nervously. “Well, I think. My mom died when I was six, but my dad says that if she was magical, she never told him, and he never saw any signs. I always wondered why I was able to vanish the vegetables I didn’t want from my plate, or to throw my toys around the room when I was angry, but I had no idea that I was actually a witch until Professor McGonagall came to give me my letter.”

Sean nodded in understanding. “Yeah, yeah it was like that for me and my brother also. Scared the heck out of our parents, but it all made sense when Scott got his letter two years ago. After that, I always knew that I was a wizard and would one day come here too.”

Leah was just about to ask Cory about himself when all the food promptly disappeared from in front of them and McGonagall stood up, calling the school to attention.

“Ahem �“ quiet now, please. Just a few more words now that we are all satisfied before we turn in. I have a few start of term announcements to give you.

“First off, Mr Tolman, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used outside of classrooms in the corridors. Plus, all Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products are yes, still on the list of banned substances, which is available for viewing in his office for any student who wishes to see it.”

The Headmistress paused and amidst the disappointed moans, she seemed to struggle for the words with which to continue. She hastily cleared her throat and moved on.

“Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term. Any students second year and above wishing to try out for their house team should speak to Madam Hooch or to their team’s captain for the sign-up sheet.”

“What’s Quidditch?” asked Leah in a low undertone to Gwen.

“Most famous sport in the Wizarding world; played up in the air on broomsticks. The rules are a bit complicated �“ I’ll explain later.”

“As always, the black lake on the outskirts of the grounds is firmly off limits to all. It is host to a number of dangerous and mirthless creatures, none of which would think twice before attacking any unsuspecting fool.

“And finally,” said McGonagall, “as all older students will be aware, our dear Professor Cassidy has left us this year on maternity leave. We wish her all the best and she should be back for next September, but in the meantime, please let me introduce to you Professor Masen, who has agreed to fill the Defence Against the Dark Arts post until then.”

A smattering of applause greeted this and the dark-haired, mean-looking professor nodded so slightly, and so stiffly, that Leah wasn’t even sure that he did it. He did not stand up, nor show any sort of friendlier acknowledgement, and she got the funny feeling that he didn’t really want to be here, although she couldn’t have said why she thought that. He looked uncomfortable at being singled out.

“And now, as I am sure that we all wish to be well rested for classes tomorrow �“,” some light-hearted chuckles and groans at this, “ �“ off to bed with you all!”

Benches were scraped back and a loud chattering started. The Talos first years followed one of their extremely bossy prefects through the thickly forming crowds, out of the Great Hall and up a winding stone staircase. Full and sated after the huge feast, Leah’s feet dragged and her stomach felt like it weighed a ton; she was even almost too tired to notice how all of the portraits that they passed whispered and pointed at the walking students. The prefect led them through tapestries hiding hidden pathways behind them, and up more and more �“ an endless amount, it seemed �“ of staircases. And finally, when it seemed as if they would still be walking once the sun came up and brightened the darkness visible outside the windows, they were stopped before the statue of a tall old man at the end of an otherwise empty corridor.

The statue was of white marble and would have looked quite out of place in any other school besides this one, where everything out of the ordinary was always in excess. The man wore layers of great flowing robes and had a long, sweeping silver beard, so long that it could easily have been tucked into his belt buckle. Perched upon his crooked nose were a pair of half-moon spectacles that framed eyes which, even though they were white and carved in stone, seemed to twinkle with indistinguishable life.

“It’s Albus Dumbledore!” gasped a girl behind them, and people covered their mouths and looked on at the statue with newly found awe. Leah remembered the name from the back of McGonagall’s Famous Witch card, but she couldn’t yet see what was so amazing about this man that he deserved his own statue.

The statue’s lips twitched upwards in what may have been an amused smile. “And good evening to you, children,” he said.

The girl blushed but her gaze held steady with the statue.

“Password?” he asked to the group at large.

The prefect stepped forward and pronounced, “Essence of dittany.” Albus Dumbledore’s statue nodded and replied, “Exactly,” before stepping aside and letting them through into the room beyond.

The Talos House common room was round and cosy, with red-velvet plush armchairs and a roaring fire already blazing in the grate. All around, the windows looked down on the grounds in a widespread panoramic view, only interrupted periodically where there were sections of stone wall. In the distance, the black lake was barely discernable from the rest of the land, it blended in so well, and the line of the Canadian Rocky Mountains guarded it. Crickets chirped and the stars twinkled, and it felt so much like home �“ even more so than her house in Toronto with her father did �“ that there was just no other name for it. Leah truly felt, for the first time since receiving her letter to Kootenay, that she would honestly come to love this place and everything it had the potential to stand for.

The prefect directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a thin spiralling staircase and through a door marked “First Years”, they found their beds at last. They were in a small room with a double bathroom joined to one side, with four neat four-poster beds surrounded in soft, dark red hangings. Their trunks had already been brought up and were sitting to the side of each of the girls’ respective beds.

Two more girls followed behind Leah and Gwen into the room and they quickly introduced themselves as Sarah Baker, who was very pretty with large green eyes and a pale complexion, and Nia Lane, an athletic African-American with a long plait of dark hair that hung down the middle of her back. Sarah and Nia quickly secured the bathroom for themselves first and left in the midst of a cloud of their own giggling.

Gwen was surveying the room with interest and Leah watched her. “What is so important about Albus Dumbledore?”

“Oh, he was only about the greatest wizard ever before he died,” she replied in a falsely casual voice. “He used to be a headmaster at Hogwarts. Legend has it, he was really close to Harry Potter, too. Of course, this was all before You-Know-Who took over in England and everything went to Hell.”

“Harry who?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

Just then, Leah saw a dangerous spark enter her eyes, and before Leah could do anything to stop her, Gwen had stood up on her bed that had been so neatly made a moment before, and started jumping up and down. Leah eyed her amusedly before deciding to join her. The two friends hopped in circles around their beds, laughing hysterically in their joy of being there, like the chocolate frog that had taken so much pleasure in escaping out of their train window that morning. They were giddy with happiness; so much so that they didn’t even notice that their roommates had joined them again until one of them �“ Leah couldn’t see which, for her back was turned �“ cleared her throat loudly.

Sarah and Nia eyed them strangely, took one look at each other, and then stifled another round of giggles behind their hands. Gwen and Leah got off the beds, their faces as scarlet as the furniture, and went to take their own turn in the bathroom. As soon as they were refreshed, they all changed into pyjamas, drew the curtains around their beds and, too exhausted to do anything other than wish each other a mumbled goodnight, they closed their eyes and drifted off into a peaceful slumber, waiting for what the next day would bring.





However, not everybody in the castle was experiencing such a pleasant time. Deep in the dungeons, in a small single-bedroom chamber, one man was, in fact, having a very restless night indeed.

That’s not to say that it had been an unpleasant day, of course; just that it had been good in a different respect �“ it was satisfying, and detesting, and interesting, all rolled into one. It was a necessary step though, to have to live amongst this filth, for what he desired to happen to be able to grow into fruition; and he could survive, the man told himself, he had survived in far worse before.

The room that he was in, if tiny, was otherwise quite to his liking: it had deep green hangings lined with silver, mahogany furnishings, and little light. On the floor, curled up on a long suede pillow was his pet snake, looking quite content beneath the single lit oil lamp. He moved over to her and ran one thin, bony finger over her body.

She stretched her neck up so he could reach her better and hissed in pleasure. She was special to him, he mused, like nobody had ever been before. McGonagall and Thomas could definitely not be permitted to see her �“ that would ruin everything, and he could not bear that. And the Weasley boy, too, as a precaution. The chance could not be taken that that worthless father of his hadn’t already given him a multitude of tall tales by now.

At that thought, he felt another of his all too frequent migraines coming on again, but he pushed the nuisance back impatiently and distracted himself by envisioning the turmoil when all of his so carefully laid plans finally came through.

Chapter Three
A Rough Start for Some



Leah awoke the next morning feeling well rested and refreshed. She stretched her stiff arms up over her head, gazing out the window and across the green grounds below, noticing that the sun was already high in the cloudless sky. Beside her, Gwen was stirring and Leah leisurely pulled on some robes over her dressing gown before heading to the bathroom and washing up.

When she returned, Sarah and Nia were long gone and Gwen was sitting up waiting for her. She stood up as Leah approached and together they ventured out of the statue hole and down the long winding staircases and hidden corridors until at last they found themselves before the tall doors to the Great Hall.

Breakfast was already well under way when they finally entered the huge room with its giant pillars and tables. Gwen and Leah found a couple of seats across from their two roommates �“ although they hadn’t really hit it off too greatly the night before (Gwen thought them snobby, and Leah had to admit that she kind of agreed) �“ and started piling mounds of sausages, pancakes, and fruits onto their plates. After the meal, timetables were handed out to all students and they were left alone to find their way to their first ever class of their magic school career.

It soon became apparent to all of them that magic was not as easy as the grown-ups in their lives had made it look; there was loads more to it than just waving a wand and saying a few nonsense words. The classes were difficult and there were mounds of homework that never let up, but it was rewarding, and Leah wouldn’t have traded it for anything else in the world.

Three times a week they had to study the night stars through telescopes from the top of the Astronomy Tower, the tallest tower in the school. Monday and Wednesday mornings were devoted to Herbology, where the Talos first years joined up with the ones from Athos House to plant and re-pot a number of strange, and often dangerous, magical plants and fungi. This class was taught by Professor Platt, a tiny, stick-thin witch with blonde hair and a small, pig-like nose. At the end of each session, every student swore that they left covered in more dirt than they were sure had even been in the greenhouses to begin with.

History of Magic was largely agreed upon by everybody to be the most boring subject. They all had to sit and listen as Professor Monroe droned on in his deep monotone voice about topics that had happened hundreds of years ago, and which nobody alive still cared about. Potions, too, was difficult and tedious, but the atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant in the well lit dungeon classroom, and the teacher was nice enough for it to be reasonably tolerable; Leah enjoyed the smells of the freshly brewed potions that always lingered in the air long after the cauldrons had been cleaned up and put away.

Gwen hated potions. She always became impatient and tried to rush the process, only proceeding in messing up whatever they’d been brewing together beyond repair. Many times after the semester had started they were forced to begin from scratch, something that only frustrated Gwen more, and which usually ended with Leah finishing the assignment all by herself.

Despite being the Headmistress, Professor McGonagall also taught Transfiguration, something about the school already being understaffed as it was and her being the best for the job. It was clear from the very first lesson that Leah was correct in her assumption about her being someone not wise to cross. She surprised the entire group from the start by turning her large wooden desk into a pig and back again.

“Transfiguration is probably the most difficult and complex sort of magic that you will learn at Kootenay,” she lectured them, her eyes narrow and stern, and her voice hard. “It will require a dedication and will that is not needed for many other branches of magic. In this class �“,” her eyes scrutinized the room, “�“ I will not tolerate any foolishness or stupidity; you will be asked to leave immediately should that ever be the case.” And then she changed herself into a tabby cat and the class erupted in applause.

They started off small, just trying to turn matches into needles. They were all dismayed at how, despite her warnings that not much was to be expected of them yet, not one person had managed to turn the match silver or make it even slightly more pointy, or indeed anything at all that might make it possible for it to be discernible as a needle. They all left mumbling curses and threats under their breath and vowing to win over the treacherous subject before it won them.

During their first ever Charms lesson, Professor Thomas read their names off of a long scroll to check for attendance. He made his way slowly down the list, calling names, having people raise their hands when they heard theirs’ so as to place a face to the name. He read Leah’s and she raised her hand, and he moved on quickly afterwards, polite but indifferent.

Sometimes, however, he paused, maybe at a name he recognized from his own school days or from somewhere else. Cory Weasley was one of these people and when Thomas read his name almost disbelievingly, he looked up and scrutinized Cory’s face for several moments. Then he shook himself and moved on.

They spent the better half of the period copying down his messily scrawled instructions on the board on the Levitating Charm. For a while, only the soft scratching of quills on parchment could be heard. Then he had them all practice swishing and flicking their wands in a fashion that was required for the spell to work. When they were done that, he placed a single feather for every two people, which they were to share between themselves as they practiced the charm.

“Now the incantation for the Levitating Charm, class, is Wingardium Leviosa. Everyone, repeat after me!”

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

“Good, good,” Thomas called. “Now, out with your wands! Let me see you all practice on your feathers. And don’t forget: swish and flick!”

Leah turned to her right side to glance at Gwen, whom she was partnering with. She quirked up an eyebrow and asked, “Ready?”

Gwen did not seem extraordinarily positive that she could do it at all, but she put on a misleading upbeat and confident tone. “I was born ready. How about you?”

“Not sure yet. You can go first then.”

She smirked and pushed up her sleeves. “All right �“ Wingardium Leviosa!”

The end result was disappointingly anti-climatic. It already seemed as if Charms was bound to be just as frustrating and mind-numbing as Transfiguration. The feather did not twitch, it remained still on the desktop; and Gwen stood with her wand pointing at it, a scowl darkening her features as absolutely nothing happened.

“Here, let me try,” said Leah. Gwen stepped aside and crossed her arms over her chest as Leah took her place before the feather. “Win-gard-ium Leviosa!” She emphasized the middle of the start of the incantation and did the necessary little swish and flick of her wand.

This time, the feather fluttered a centimetre above the wooden desk, although not for long and then it quickly gave up, falling back down with a lazy swipe. Leah shrugged and Gwen blew out the large breath she’d been holding, and they both glared down at the stubborn object of their scorn, displeasure written clear upon their faces.

“We just need more practice, that’s all,” she suggested.

“How can you still be so optimistic, Leah?”

Gwen tried to float the feather once more. Only one end of it decided to just feebly cooperate and Gwen spent many more minutes trying to telepathically will the other end up too. It didn’t work and she lifted the spell in a huff.

“Of all the rotten �“ ”

“Why don’t you let me see you try, Mr Weasley?” said Professor Thomas’s voice from the other end of the classroom. He hadn’t spoken once since they had started practicing the spell, but now he spoke loud and clear, and the entire class promptly dropped their own attempts to watch, their curiosities peaked.

Clearly uncomfortable with being in the spotlight, Cory performed the spell, but like Leah and Gwen’s, his own feather remained solidly on his desk. “I can’t do it,” he sighed after several unsuccessful tries and looked up into Thomas’s expectant brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Just try again, Mr Weasley. I’m sure �“ with your family �“ just a few more times �“ ”

But the feather refused to move. Leah saw Thomas shooting quick glances between the feather and Cory, and he seemed eager and sad and amused all at the same time. He pondered between them for a few more seconds, and then he seemed to come to some sort of decision because he shot one last hopeful look before moving on to Cory’s partner, Sean.

Leah remained distracted for the rest of the class. What was that look that she had noticed between Cory and Thomas? Why had the professor been so eager to see him get the charm correct so soon? There was something strange between them. But there was nothing she could do for it now, and when the bell signalling the start of the next class came and Gwen was tugging on her arm for them to go, Leah left hurriedly without a backwards glance.





The end of the week dawned grey and stormy outside as a ferocious storm brewed in from the mountains to the grounds and this dreary weather reflected only ever more strongly on the faces of all the Talos first years, who had been greatly anticipating spending their first free afternoon outside, basking in the sun. The rain had not yet started, but the clouds were ominous and oppressing, and everybody knows just how hard it is to remain in a good mood after Mother Nature alters your plans unexpectedly for you.

They all slumped through the morning meal, barely tasting the delectable food as it passed down their throats, before leaving for class. Today they would be starting Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Masen, and had they not already heard numerous horror stories from other students about their new teacher, it may have been a subject they would have looked forward to. Currently, it was just another bleak spot on their already ruined day.

The DADA classroom was situated in the farthest corner of the castle from the Great Hall, close by the Potions’ dungeons, and down a dark corridor lit only by a few flickering candles that cast orange spots against the adjacent walls. Not wanting to be late, Leah and Gwen ran to the room and caught two empty seats at the same table as Cory Weasley. He didn’t seem to notice them as they joined him.

Professor Masen swept into the room, his perpetual scowl firmly in place upon his face, and his long black robes billowing behind him. He strode up the centre aisle between the desks and, with a great air of contempt and displeasure, proceeded to lecture the whole class on his expectations for this term.

“You are here,” he began, and Leah was surprised to hear that his voice was calm and smoother than the finest threaded silk, “because McGonagall and the Ministry want you all to be able to protect yourselves from anything that may wish harm upon you.”

As he glared at them, his lips lifted up into the slightest, most natural looking sneer.

“I, however, disagree. You are children; the matters of adults are of no concern to you; you needn’t learn defence when you have fully learned wizards and witches available to protect you. What could you, an eleven year old child, do against an enemy that would never inconvenience himself enough to hurt you?”

Leah stared astounded at Masen, as was the entire class. One brave Chiron girl sitting in the front row �“ the one with the black curls Leah had noticed at the sorting �“ timidly raised her hand.

“Excuse me, Sir. But what will we be learning then, if not defence?”

Masen’s gaze turned to her and his black eyes spit fire. “I did not proclaim that I would not be teaching defence, Miss …?”

“Bennett, Sir. Jaida Bennett.”

“Miss Bennett, as I was saying, you will of course still be taught how to defend yourself. I was merely stating my own opinion of the matter.”

“But, you said �“”

“You will still learn how to defend yourself,” interrupted Masen furiously, “but the expectations of the Canadian Ministry are sorely lacking. I will teach you on my own terms, in my own way, and they do not require talking!” And he jabbed at the chalkboard with his wand, making a series of complicated notes on protective jinxes appear.

“Others would have only had you on simple, trifling spells; ones hardly worth mentioning, least of all learning. This list of curses, on the other hand, are actually useful. Today you will all copy down the theory and directions from the board and at the end of class we will practice them, and find out exactly how mindless some of you really are. Now get to work. And no talking!”

Without protest, the class started copying down the note on the board. It was way too quiet �“ nothing more than the soft rustle of clothing and some nervous coughing �“ and the absence of sound made concentrating nearly impossible. Masen sat unperturbed at his desk, seeming relaxed for the first time since the period had begun.

Leah was now regretting her previous assumption that Professor Masen’s voice was at all calm or soothing. She’d been wrong, very wrong: it was colder than steel, as tough as boulders, as fearsome as a hungry tiger in a cage. It’s immovable disapproval could pierce you harder and deeper than any bullet would; and Leah had been afraid as she’d listened to him, afraid to even breathe out of line.

He had them team up in pairs once they’d finished the note. Leah and Gwen took out their wands and found a clear space in the room where they could practice their long list of hexes and spells. But they were easier said and written then done, and as Masen walked from pair to pair to study them, he only sniffed and frowned disdainfully.

“It is clear,” he said, “that too much credit has been awarded upon you. Your performances are dismal and I can see that I will have my work cut out for me if you shall all pass your final exams at the end of the year.”

His eyes travelled the room and landed upon a head of red hair far in the back.

“You!” shouted Mason. “Up here!”

Glancing worriedly around at his fellow classmates, Cory Weasley trudged glumly up to the front and stood before Professor Masen, clearly dismayed at having to be the focal point of yet another lesson. Masen’s wand arm twitched, and Cory nearly jumped out of his skin, backing into the desk behind him and stumbling over a stray chair in his shock.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Cory,” Cory stammered. “C-Cory Weasley.”

Leah thought she saw the professor’s dark eyes flare, but then she blinked and when she looked again, they appeared just as hard and as dead as always.

“Show me your Disarming spell, Weasley. Use that one �“ ” He gestured at Sean, “�“ to practice.”

“Y-yes, sir.” He took his stance in front of Sean. “Expelliarmus!”

Cory waved his wand and a bright scarlet-red light shot out; it flew around the room, missed the intended target by a mile, and hit a pile of jars of pickled toads, eyeballs, and other nauseating things in the corner, which promptly shattered upon contact, covering the whole class in a slimy mess.

Masen looked furious. He rounded on Cory, who was trying vainly to force himself to simply shrink out of existence, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “WEASLEY, TEN POINTS FROM TALOS!”

A frightened hush fell. With a wave of his wand the jars were repaired and Masen continued glaring murderously at Cory. A moment later there was a sob, the slam of a heavy door, and then Cory was gone, his scampering footsteps fading quickly down the corridor.

Masen shooed Sean back to his seat and started pacing in front of the rest of the class, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Despicable,” he whispered into the air, “utterly dismal. Now somebody has to go after him.”

Sean stood up, clearly intent on seeing after his friend, but Leah matched him before he could get a word out and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll go.”

And as Leah walked out she shook her head at her own inanity. She liked Cory, and she wanted to help him; she just had no clue of where to look for him. And when she did find him: what would she say then? How could she bring comfort to a lonesome, probably inconsolable boy?

She wandered the empty halls, eyes searching for any place that Cory might hide. Now that she thought about it, she wished she’d just let Sean go after him; they were roommates and he knew Cory much better than her. And although she only wanted to make sure that he was okay, she knew that if she were in his shoes at this moment, she would want to be left alone too.

Although the castle itself wasn’t overly large, it was full of winding paths and secret crevices, making it a great place for a game of Hide and Seek, or for a good bout of misery. Leah peaked her head in some empty classrooms, under stairwells, and behind statues and she was just about to try the next floor, when she heard muffled sobs coming from behind a wall-length tapestry of a young boy sitting atop of what looked like a giant chess knight a good ways away from the Defence classroom.

She gently lifted the edge of the heavy fabric and peaked her head behind it, where a small body with a mess of red hair was hunched over and crying into his arms. It was Cory, and her heart clenched in shared pain as she looked at him. She stepped through into the hidey-hole and whispered, “Hey.”

His head jerked up and he tried to hide the fact that he was quickly wiping his face dry. “What �“ what do you want?”

Leah stood frozen. What was she supposed to do now? “I … um, never mind. Just came to see if you were okay, but I-I’ll leave.”

A pause, then, “You can stay if you want.”

She smiled hesitantly and sat down beside him, leaning her back against the brick wall. Neither of them spoke for several moments, and then Cory cleared his throat and said, “What are you doing here, Leah?”

She gazed at the wall opposite, not really seeing it. “I came to see you, like I said. Masen was out of line. I mean, some of those spells he was having us do, they were third or fourth year level at the least! I can barely make a feather fly, let alone stun somebody!”

“Yeah.”

“So you shouldn’t feel bad about messing up,” she rambled. “Nobody else blames you. And you shouldn’t let Masen get to you, because he doesn’t care, and he’ll just continue to bring you down until you show him you aren’t as stupid as he thinks.”

He laughed darkly. “Oh, that’s rich! I didn’t see anybody else standing up to him, unless you count that Jaida Bennett girl, and he wasn’t making her feel like the scum on somebody’s shoe.”

“There’s no need to get tetchy,” she snapped. She lowered her voice, trying to make it comforting again. “I know you’ve had it rough this last week: homework, being away from home, and then Masen … I just wanted you to know that this week’s not been easy for anyone. And, you can talk to me about it, if you want.”

He sighed. “You’re a good person, Leah. It’s just … while all of what you said is true, it’s more than that, it’s �“ the teachers, they all expect me to do great things because of who my dad is, who my uncles and aunts were, and I don’t want to disappoint them, but … it’s not that easy.

“You see, my family was really involved with the war in Britain, and they’re all dead, and the only one left from that side of the family is my dad. I know he loves me, but sometimes I think that me and my mom and my siblings aren’t enough for him anymore; that he wants his own siblings and his own parents back. That he wants England back.”

“But that’s not fair on you,” replied Leah heatedly. “You’re not them, you’re your own person!”

“Yeah, well, they don’t look at it that way.”

There was silence again. And then Cory stood up and slipped out the hole into the corridor. Leah stared at where he’d been a second ago, confused, before following him.

“Cory?” she called, “Wait �“”

The words halted in her throat when she saw him, more tears gathering in eyes that seemed lost and scared. He was looking at the tapestry they’d just been behind, and when she stood beside him, he pointed at the thread-woven red-haired and freckled boy.

“This castle is full of memoirs,” he said, “and he is just one of them. There are paintings and statues like this at every corner, waiting to remind me.”

“Who is he?”

“My youngest uncle, Ronald; he’s dead.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Cory.”

He shrugged. “I never knew him. How can I miss him if I never even knew him?” For the first time since she’d come to him, he looked straight at her. “All of this history, and I’m a part of it, but I’m not, because nobody talks about it and I’m expected to be like them, like him �“ brave, and loyal, and a master at chess �“ but I just can’t, because then I’d be taking his place in their hearts and while they may think that they want that, I know that deep down they really don’t and they would only resent me for it later.”

“How did he die?”

“You-know-W … Voldemort �“ at least, they think. They say I should say his name. ‘Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,’ or some rubbish. Anyways, he did it personally, at the Second Battle of Hogwarts eleven years ago. It was the Killing Curse. And with him his girlfriend, Hermione Granger.”

His eyes narrowed and he whispered, his voice full of jealousy and awe, “Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, best friends to Harry Potter: the Golden Trio! And my dad is Charlie Weasley, second eldest brother of Ron.”

He turned away. “Can you keep a secret, Leah?”

His question startled her; she’d been lost in the scene depicted in the tapestry on the wall: a young Ron Weasley, no older than they were, sitting astride a huge stone horse. The picture wasn’t animated, but it felt real to Leah all the same. Ron had his fist raised in the air, his whole being radiating courage and determination, as he faced his white-stoned opponents. Even with his face covered in dirt and grime he seemed a hero.

“Of course,” said Leah, tearing her gaze away from it.

“I lied before. I am related to those Weasleys that Gwen was talking about on the train.” He thought for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face, and added, “And because of that, everybody in this school could be in danger right now.”

As the bell announcing the end of classes rang he walked away, leaving Leah alone and, if possible, feeling even worse for him than before.

Chapter Four
Flying and fire



A month passed after their conversation behind the tapestry and ever since then, Leah made sure that Cory felt welcome in joining her and Gwen whenever he wanted to. She would work with him in class, invite him to eat meals with them, and sit with him in the library when the need to study became too big to ignore. She never brought up his confession to her when she was with him, and he never mentioned it again. Leah understood that it was strictly taboo and maybe because of that, the fact it was their secret and one that did not require anyone else to know, a close and happy camaraderie quickly formed between them.

If only things were so simple between Gwen and him. While she tolerated him, Gwen still found Cory trying and weak; she thought that he should stand up for himself to Masen more and leave in the middle of class, upset over their professor’s harsh words, less. Many times in the following weeks Leah found herself playing referee between her two stubborn friends, and though she’d never say it, it was beginning to draw on her last nerves.

October began and the days and nights were continuously getting cooler, meaning that the students were all forced into spending more and more of them inside, hunched over books and practicing spells in the time they could’ve been outside and enjoying themselves. Being on the top of a mountain and farther north than Toronto was, Leah had not been prepared for the quick change of seasons that Kootenay was familiar with.

It was on one of these horrible chilly evenings that the first years were scheduled for their first flying lesson, an activity that had Cory and Gwen extremely excited and Leah extremely not. She’d never been a fan of the airplanes that Muggles used to travel far distances with and she was sure that that feeling would not change when she was forced onto a broomstick she was only likely to fall off of at once.

So at three thirty, she, Gwen, and Cory went down to the grounds, all bundled up in their thick fall cloaks. The rest of the students were already there waiting and, lined up in two rows along the grass, were nearly twenty old and rather gnarled broomsticks.

The flying teacher, Madam Hooch, was a tall woman with short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

“What are you all waiting for?” she barked as she approached them. “Everyone stand by a broomstick now. Come on, before we all freeze to death!”

They followed her instructions, lining up in two long rows. Standing on either side of Leah were Cory and Gwen, and they both gave bright smiles to Leah, whom returned them only half-heartedly.

“Stick your right hand over your broom,” directed Hooch, “and say ‘up!’”

“Up!” said Leah; the old broom wobbled and rolled over a bit but remained stubbornly on the ground.

Hers wasn’t the only one that had, either. While Cory’s had jumped right up without hesitation and Gwen’s had risen slowly but surely, some hadn’t even moved. Once everyone had their brooms in their hands, Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount them without sliding off and she walked up and downs the rows, taking time in correcting their grips.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle �“ three �“ two �“ one.”

Leah kicked as hard as she could before she could better rethink her actions. Around her, her classmates and friends were doing the same.

“And lean forward!” came Hooch’s sharp voice.

Leah leaned forwards but the broomstick seemed to have a mind of its own then, because before she knew it, it was bucking up and down like a bull rider at a fair. She gripped on as tight as she could, forgetting about trying to control it, just hoping she wouldn’t fall. She could hear startled gasps from her friends and Madam Hooch calling sternly for her to, “Come down right now, young lady!”

And then she was flying away, over her gawking classmates, her eyes squeezed shut in fright, and she dared not let go because now the broom was going higher and higher until all the people looked just like little ants scurrying around far beneath her on the grass.

After it had risen several feet, the broom stabilized and Leah risked a peak downwards through her closed eyes. She carefully opened one, then the other, looking away from the sun so she could see the green grass flowing below and a tiny ramshackle hut that was nestled between the trees growing beside the calm lake, its windows gleaming from within.

It wasn’t so horrible after all, Leah mused. It was actually almost pleasant �“ the wind whipping her hair; the flight; the pure exhilaration. It wasn’t something she’d wish to do every day, flying, but it definitely had its own charm.

She saw Cory and Gwen running after her on her crazy broom; Madam Hooch had fallen back minutes before, allowing the younger ones to continue the chase.

She leaned forwards warily and the broom started to fall. It did not lose its speed, however, and soon she was finding herself hurtling towards the black lake, realizing too late that she didn’t yet know how to land or turn. In one swift movement, broomstick met fluid and Leah tumbled off. As the breath escaped her lungs and the water rushed in, her mind went blank and her vision was overcome by a final, startling darkness.





When Leah finally came to, she couldn’t move. First, she tried to lift a hand … nothing. Then she tried the other, but still nothing. Her legs were likewise bound and her head, well, her head was just plain throbbing.

There was something heavy on top of her, that much she was sure of. What it was, she had no idea. She heard barking and she felt a soft wetness on her face, reminding her of a dog’s sloppy kiss, and then a gruff, angry voice was yelling, “FANG! FANG, GERROFF! DOWN, YER GREAT, NOSY MUTT!”

And then the weight was suddenly gone. A huge, hairy face leaned over her and Leah could just discern through the tangles of greying black beard two friendly beetle-like eyes and a worried grin. Being held back with one massive hand was a large, black and drooling boarhound.

“Yeh all righ’ there?” asked the face.

But before she could answer, she heard three sets of pounding footsteps approaching: Hooch, Gwen and Cory.

“Leah!” screamed Gwen. She knelt beside Leah on the grass. “Leah, are you okay?”

Her voice came out raspy and unsure. “Yeah.” She coughed. “Yeah, I’m �“ ”

“You are most definitely not fine, Andrews. Hagrid,” Hooch addressed the large, hairy man that had been leaning over Leah, “by the name of Quidditch, what happened?”

“We already know that,” said Cory, who had up until this point been pointedly looking anywhere but at the one called Hagrid. “Her broom went haywire!”

“It’s true!” seconded Gwen.

“Well … I don’t doubt it meself �“ didn’t look like she knew what she were doin’ from where I was standin’,” said Hagrid. “Nearly drowned, she did.”

“I wouldn’t have �“ ” Leah tried to explain weakly, but nobody was listening to her.

“She was hurtlin’ straight fer the lake. It’s jus’ lucky I was lookin’ out my window at the time. I pulled her out when I realized what was happenin’.”

Madam Hooch just clutched her chest. “Well, thank goodness you were there, Hagrid. Miss Andrews here may very well owe you her life.”

Hagrid shuffled his gigantic feet. “Nah, I dunno ‘bout that.” He looked around and, eyes landing on Cory, he gave a startled yelp, stumbled backwards and just nearly missed squashing Leah, who was just now trying to get to her shaky feet.

“Well, Gallopin’ Gargoyles �“ if yer not a Weasley, I’m a hippogriff! Don’t yeh look just like ‘em!”

Cory blushed brilliantly and shot a hopeless look at Leah as he helped her up. Gwen had stayed silent all throughout Hagrid’s explanation, but now her eyes widened and she pointed at him. She gasped, “I know you! You’re Rubeus Hagrid. You were a teacher at Hogwarts! My dad has told me all about you!”

The man in question chuckled, although Leah thought he was a little too large to be properly called a man. A giant, maybe. “An’ who might you be?”

“Gwen Seward!”

“Seward, Seward … not like Lawrence Seward? Hufflepuff, tall, good wit’ animals?”

Gwen nodded excitedly. “He’s my dad!”

“Well, ain’t that sumthin’? It looks like the two of us have got ourselves sumthin’ to talk ‘bout.” He turned to Madam Hooch. “Best get Miss Andrews here up ter the hospital wing, Professor. I’m no healer, but she did almos’ drown.”

Hagrid looked softly at Cory before he turned to Gwen and Leah. “Why don’t you three come down ter tea next weekend? We can have ourselves a talk, Gwen. I want ter hear all ‘bout yer dad.”

She nodded eagerly before following Cory and Madam Hooch �“ who was pulling a reluctant Leah behind her �“ up to the castle.





In the school’s hospital wing, Leah sat propped up on a bed, Cory and Gwen surrounding her, while Madam Pomfrey, the resident nurse, filled a glass full with a particularly nasty looking potion.

“Drink this. It’s for the dizziness.”

“I’m not dizzy …” protested Leah tiredly for what must have been the thousandth time.

She knew it was no use saying that she was feeling just fine. She had been proclaiming the same thing for the past half hour and nobody ever believed her. And now it seemed Madam Pomfrey felt the same, for she just huffed as if to say she’d heard it all before and then some, and shoved the thick, purple potion into Leah’s hand.

“You very nearly drowned, Miss Andrews, of course you are dizzy.”

Gwen chuckled amusedly from her seat on one side of the bed when she caught sight of Leah’s long, suffering look. “Leah, just take it.”

Cory was more sympathetic. He patted her hand a couple of times in a friendly and comforting way.

Leah tipped the glass up to her lips and downed the entire thing at once with a shuddering grimace. “Ergh … it tastes nasty too!”

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue disapprovingly and Gwen just giggled some more. Gwen was enjoying her so-called friend’s pain a little too much, thought Leah grumpily, so she stared hard at the other girl to let her know that, but Gwen appeared to have gone temporarily blind and pretended not to notice.

Pomfrey left soon after and Leah leaned back on her pillow. “I so shouldn’t have gone to class today,” she moaned.

“Why do you think your broom acted like that?” asked Cory, frowning.

As soon as Cory spoke up, Gwen’s answering tone turned harsh and mean. “They’re old,” she interjected. “They’re not perfect! Not exactly up to special Weasley standards, now, are they.”

“Gwen!” Leah gasped.

Cory stood to his feet, his eyes aflame with fury. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean,” answered Gwen, matching his stance, her arms crossed over her chest so tightly they looked like a pretzel.

“Well, I have no clue, so tell me!”

“No. I shouldn’t have to.”

“Guys …” pleaded Leah. But they were too focused on their argument and once again, she was left forgotten. It was getting rather annoying.

“Tell me, Gwen!”

“Why don’t you tell me how Hagrid knows your last name if you’re not from England!” shouted Gwen.

Cory looked shocked. His jaw fell open and he spluttered for words for a moment before saying, “He knew the Weasleys, he didn’t know me. He said I look like a Weasley.”

“Exactly,” said a triumphant Gwen. “My dad told me once that Hagrid was the Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts! You said on the train that you were from Romania, that you’d never been to England, and that you weren’t related to the Weasleys who knew Harry Potter! But those Weasleys knew Hagrid, so how did he know that you’re a Weasley too!”

“He �“ he didn’t …”

“Yes, he did!”

“No, no he didn’t �“”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Both of you, SHUT UP!”

A ringing silence filled the air. The bickering couple stopped their pointless tirade, exchanged gob smacked expressions with each other, and then stared wordlessly at Leah who had only then realized, a moment too late, that it had been she who had screamed those words.

“Can’t you �“ can’t you guys get along for just once?” she said after a long time of them not saying anything. “Please. I don’t think I’m asking too much. Just … just for once?”

Cory closed his open jaw and Gwen’s expression softened considerably. Gwen unwound her arms and Cory hung his head. Together they mumbled a nearly inaudible apology.

“Sorry, Leah.”

“Yeah, sorry, Leah.”

Finally feeling like she could breathe again, Leah whispered, “Thank you. Now, somebody please tell me why it’s so important whether Cory is, or is not, related to the Weasleys who knew Hagrid. What’s so special about them? Why does it matter?”

On cue, Gwen and Cory’s faces grew dark, like a shadow had passed over them. Gwen said, “Because they knew Harry Potter.”

“And who is Harry Potter?”

Gwen started chuckling, as if the idea that Leah did not know was mad. Cory sent her a sharp look and replied, “Not is … was. Harry Potter was the Chosen One.”

“What?” Leah could feel her nose scrunch up in her confusion.

He sat down on the edge of her bed, gazing down fixedly at his swinging feet. Leah remembered the truth he had disclosed to her weeks ago and wondered whether he was searching for guidance, or maybe answers, in those swaying shoes.

“My dad refuses to talk about it,” he sighed, “at least to me. But I’ve heard a few things over the years and from what I can tell, it’s not a nice story. He won’t allow me to read any books on it either, so what I know isn’t much.”

“My dad gets all sullen whenever somebody talks about the second war,” said Gwen sadly.

“A lot of people do,” said Cory, “and for the longest time I couldn’t figure out why, because they survived, didn’t they? Unlike a lot of people. I started to listen in on conversations when my parents’ old friends would come to visit … and I picked up a few things. There was something about a prophecy, but I don’t know what it said. And some ‘Order’ that was always being mentioned. But the main thing is this: there was a boy called Harry Potter who was supposed to kill You-Know-Who and save the world, but the last time they battled �“ at the ‘98 Battle of Hogwarts �“ something went wrong. When Harry Potter went to meet him, he didn’t kill him, but Harry never came back out alive, either. Nobody saw or heard from them again, until a year later in 1999, when Voldemort resurfaced and attacked Hogwarts for a second time, destroying everyone he found still breathing. He won. There was no sign of Harry; he was gone. And now Europe is destined only for a horrible dictatorship under Voldemort and his followers.”

“That’s terrible,” gasped Leah.

“Yeah, it is. And the Wizarding world is terrified of when Voldemort will expand his sight to the rest of the world, because he’ll want to, one day.”

“And when he does …” Gwen’s whisper was low and forbidding. “No will stop him.”

Cory stood up and walked to the window. He looked far out into the grounds below, jaw clenched and eyes determined. Gwen watched him for a moment before turning back to Leah.

“Harry Potter defied You-Know-Who for too long and the Weasleys were right there with him all the way �“ they were like family, after all. So now that Potter is dead, the Weasleys are at the top of his hit list and when he finds them, they won’t last for long.”

“Which is why it matters that Hagrid’s here. He knew the Weasleys, he knew Harry Potter, he fought against Voldemort in both wars �“ he’s a liability,” Cory finished.

He didn’t turn around, he didn’t raise his voice. Leah wished he would allow her to see his face, to see how much the possibility that he was being hunted down by a dark egomaniac who named himself ‘Lord’ hurt him. Just like that day behind the tapestry after Masen’s class, Leah wanted to erase that pain for him.

He was her friend. He’d earned it.





He sat before the warm fire in his room and stared gravely into the hottest part of the flames, deep in thought. They were beautiful, those flames, in a nostalgic kind of way: bright, dancing, red … just like her hair. He remembered when he used to just lose himself for hours, running his fingers through those brilliant red locks as they lay on the grass together, happy just to be with each other.

But that was all gone from him now; had been for a long time. He cursed himself: he tried so hard not to think of those years. But the memories just kept slipping in �“ as if he wasn’t already tormented enough!

Her hair was not the only forbidden thing those flames made him think of. The Sword. That was definitely not a welcome thought, not when Voldemort could sift through his memories as easily as he could sand. He had another quarter of an hour until He was back though, and so he thought of his plan, playing it over in his mind while that part of him remained his.

The plan must be a success. He didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t.





“So, the broom … any thoughts about that?”

“No,” replied Cory. “It doesn’t make any sense at all.”

The three of them were walking hurriedly down the corridor away from the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had finally released Leah after making them wait a full hour, forcing a promise out of her to come straight back if she started to feel any sickness at all while she listed off a bunch of symptoms and their meanings that none of them had any hope of remembering, and they were now on their way to the Great Hall to grab something to eat before dinner ended.

“I dunno,” murmured Gwen, “it kind of does. Brooms don’t usually go crazy by themselves.”

“Oi!” exclaimed Cory. “What happened to ‘they’re just old!’ ”

“No, listen to me,” she said to him. They’d turned a corner and descended two flights of stairs before she spoke again. She hesitated. “I’ve been thinking about it and, what if it wasn’t the broom?”

“What do you mean, Gwen?” asked Leah.

“You don’t think somebody cursed it, do you?” insisted Cory. His face clearly said he would not believe a word of it.

“Well, why not? It’s not unheard of! And Leah is Muggle-born. Even if prejudice isn’t allowed in Kootenay, it doesn’t mean some still don’t think it. Maybe not a student, but one of the teachers?”

“No way,” replied Cory. “McGonagall handpicked the teachers herself. They’re good people.”

“Even Masen?” Gwen snorted. “You should be the last person on Earth who’d ever think of that monster as good!”

Cory glared but didn’t say anything else, for they’d just come to the entrance of the Great Hall. They could hear the shouts of the students through the heavy doors, but all three of them could tell that there was something off in the tone of the voices. It didn’t sound like the normal, happy talking that should accompany meal times.

Cory, Gwen, and Leah all exchanged worried looks before they opened the large double doors and stepped into what could only rightly be called absolute chaos.

Chapter Five
The Sword of Gryffindor



The Great Hall was in a complete and total uproar.

All of the students were still sitting in their seats at the three house tables, but it was a near thing. The younger students were jumping around excitedly, while the older ones looked confused and a little scared. The teachers were solemn and Headmistress McGonagall, with her face stern and disapproving, was standing by her chair, waiting for the roar of voices to die down.

People were speaking a mile a minute, and the Headmistress kept opening her mouth �“ probably to attempt to control the situation �“ only to close it again the next second. Nobody was listening to her anyways.

Cory, Gwen, and Leah all took their seats with the rest of Talos. Among the lot, their table was probably the loudest. Cory turned to Sean on his left hand side and asked, “What’s going on?”

His eyes were wide and vibrant. He jittered in his seat as he spoke breathlessly, “Somebody stole the Sword of Gryffindor! Can you believe it? And right out from under McGonagall’s nose!”

Both Cory and Gwen immediately directed their full attention towards Sean, their fighting momentarily put to a halt. Leah eyed the change, bewildered.

“No way,” said Cory.

“I don’t believe it!” shrieked Gwen.

“I didn’t even know it was here! My dad said it’s been lost for years.”

Sean persisted anxiously, as if he couldn’t say it fast enough. “I don’t think anybody did, except McGonagall herself. When she told us, the teachers acted as surprised as we did! She came in, in the middle of dinner, her face all stony and hard in the way it gets, and just said, out of the blue, that it’d been stolen! As you can see, it’s all sort of gone downhill.”

“Excuse me,” Leah interrupted, “but what is this Sword of Griffenhord? I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Not Griffenhord,” Sean laughed, unable to contain his excitement, “Gryffindor. And it’s an ancient sword, encrusted with rubies and magical properties, the legends say. It belonged to Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders of Hogwarts!”

“It was thought by most of the Wizarding population to be lost during the First Battle for Hogwarts,” said Cory. “Evidently not, though.”

“I can’t imagine who could steal it,” whispered Gwen, amazed. “Who would even know where it was? And McGonagall must’ve put at least some kinds of protection spells around it ...”

At the Head Table, McGonagall was now tapping her silver spoon against her goblet. She cleared her throat. When the students kept ignoring her and talking amongst themselves, she raised her wand to her throat, said an incantation, and then, sounding as if her voice had been amplified by a few hundred decibels, yelled, “QUIET!”

The chatter broke off with the insistency of a battering ram and with a wave of her wand, McGonagall removed the Sonorus charm.

“Thank you,” said the Headmistress more calmly. “Now, as the majority of you all know, Godric Gryffindor’s sword is a priceless relic, an important historical artefact. I do not think I need to tell you how great the ramifications of this theft may be. If the wrong side has gotten a hold of it �“ namely He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers �“ it could destroy any far off chance we may still hold of winning this war. Since it was taken yesterday morning, the perpetrator has had ample time in which to dispose of it. Therefore, I must urge you all to keep both eyes and ears open to any information on who may have taken the sword or where it is now. If you hear anything, please report it to a teacher or myself immediately. This matter is not to be taken lightly. Thank you. That will be all.”

Then she took her seat and continued eating. There was a stunned silence and then everyone else settled too, eating quietly and talking in hushed whispers.

“This is really serious,” said Sean, his expression immediately sober, his eyes still wide. “I didn’t realize.”

Cory started helping himself to some mashed potatoes before passing them along to Gwen. “Yeah … but why would You-Know-Who want the sword? It’s cool and all that, but what could he possibly use it for?”

“Maybe he got tired of the Killing Curse,” Gwen giggled.

Cory stared, astonished, at her apparent immaturity. “That’s not even funny.”

“They don’t even know that it was You-Know-Who,” said Leah. She looked up from her own plate of food to the Head Table. McGonagall seemed to be in the middle of a heated argument with Professor Thomas, but over what, Leah had no clue. She scanned the table because something was missing; and then her eyes passed over an empty chair and a gap in the bodies of the teachers. She looked more closely at the individual faces there until she knew what it was that had bothered her.

“Hey, Masen’s not here!”

Cory, Gwen, and Sean looked up and followed her gaze to Masen’s empty seat.

Sean’s brow furrowed. “Weird,” he said. “But not unusual. He’s a solitary guy, been known to skip out on the odd meal or two.”

“But today?” Leah answered dubiously. “You would think, what with the sword gone, that McGonagall would want all of the professors to be here to tell them … so they’d be on alert, know what to watch for.”

Gwen shrugged. “Maybe he already knows.”





Her master called and the great snake slithered through the wet grass to meet him. He was standing beneath a hideous gnarled tree, facing her, his hands clasped behind his back. She approached him and she hissed in greeting, raising her long neck for him to gently caress it.

His pale hands stayed behind him, though, and she cocked her head, wondering. She came closer. Something was different in his eyes lately, and they were like that now: they didn’t soften when they saw her; they didn’t smile in satisfaction when she came.

But she was devoted to him above all else; she alone was his best servant, his favourite. And she trusted him �“ not blindly �“ but as if she had no reason not to, for she didn’t. So she did not hesitate to slide up onto his shoulders when he reached his arm out in that familiar way to her, started to curl her strong body around those firm muscles and tendons without second thought.

She didn’t distrust it when that familiar hand grasped her around the neck, the bone-like fingers digging into her skin. She waited for his explanation, unafraid, when he held her up against the rough, peeling bark, but it never came. And when the piercing thing entered her, she just stared at him, her own eyes trusting while his hardened; and she waited, until she could no longer.





The four of them didn’t say any more on the topic of the missing sword for the rest of the meal. The other students had also calmed down from their initial shock and had become interested in other, more light-hearted topics of discussion. Leah picked at her vegetables, her fork scraping around the plate, her head propped up on one hand.

“You know … I’ve always hated turnip,” she mused some minutes later. “All orange … and gross tasting. I don’t see why anybody would like it, or why they insist on feeding it to us.”

“Leah, everybody hates turnip,” Gwen replied distractedly; she was playing with her own dinner, not really eating it.

Leah stabbed a piece of the offending vegetable with her fork and put it in her mouth, grimacing in disgust as she chewed and swallowed. “Well, evidently the teachers don’t, or they wouldn’t force these horrible atrocities on us.”

“Then why on Earth are you even eating it? Pick something else.”

Leah just sighed and put more turnip in her mouth.

Gwen shook her head mournfully. Looking up from the Quidditch magazine he’d taken out of his bag to read, Cory smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

“You remind me of my sister,” he said, “because, secretly, I think you really do like it and are instead just hell-bent on pretending you hate it.”

Leah glared. “Which sister?” she asked, ignoring his second point.

He thought for a moment, and then he grinned smugly. “Both of them,” he answered.

Leah was about to shoot back a retort �“ Cory had two sisters, Molly and Elizabeth, both eight and six respectively, as well as a brother (Will, who was Molly’s twin), and there was no possible way that he’d just paid her a compliment �“ when a high, drawn out shriek suddenly interrupted their banter. The students in the Great Hall, already on edge from the news of the stolen sword, all stopped what they were doing immediately, seemingly stunned in their seats. The teachers at the Head table exchanged similar terrified looks and rushed out of the room, nearly all of the students right on their heels once they’d gotten over their own surprise.

At the moment of the disturbance, Leah had just been about ready to fling a large, mushy chunk of turnip at Cory’s head with her fork; her attention now shifted elsewhere, however, she accidentally let go and none of them noticed where it landed. They were already out of their seats, on their feet, and running full throttle after the mass of students hurrying towards the noise.

They did not have to wait long to find out what it had been that had made that awful scream. Just outside the front doors by an old tree, the mob of students had gathered, all forming some sort of open ring around another person. A small second year girl that Leah had noticed around the school was crying and shaking, clearly in shock, as she gazed unseeingly at the spectacle before her. Leah turned to her friends, wanting to know what they were thinking, and was even more surprised to see Gwen quiet, with dazed, non-understanding eyes. But Cory looked even worse than that: he gaped at what the girl’s stare, and everyone else’s, was fixed upon, his whole torso trembling like a tuning fork, as he let out a small moan.

“No … oh, Merlin, no …”

It was this reaction more than anything that startled Leah into finally seeing what had caught everyone’s attention so thoroughly, though she did not at once understand it. She noticed vaguely that Professors McGonagall and Thomas were looking at each other very significantly, and they shared sinister expressions full of something Leah couldn’t quite name. Leah didn’t know what to think, what to feel, but she knew that something dreadful was certainly happening in her beloved school.

Because, stabbed through the aged elm tree by a gleaming ruby-hilted sword, dangling length-wise down the trunk with its grotesque face captured brightly by the sun was a huge dead and mutilated snake. And on the nearby castle wall, crudely painted with a dark red substance that was certainly the snake’s still wet blood, was one word: HA.

Like Ha ha. A laugh.





The following morning, the Great Hall was deathly silent; all the students sat quietly, not bothering with eating much or talking, all lost in their own thoughts. Between news of the sword and finding the snake the day before, it seemed as if any possibility of a happy meal was now lost. The mystery of who’d done it still weighed heavily down upon everyone and nobody was in a mood to smile. People were on edge, some even going so far as to cast scared glances at the front doors every few seconds, as if at any time they might hear more screams coming from outside.

“What do you think �“?”

“I don’t know, Leah.” Cory’s gaze was fixed studiously on his eggs and sausages and he refused to look up.

“But how did the snake …?” she tried again. Gwen just shook her head.

And that was the end of that conversation, if it could be called one.

When Leah suggested some time later that they should hurry along to class before they ended up late, neither Cory nor Gwen argued; instead, they both stood silently and followed Leah out of the Hall and up to the second floor.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom seemed abnormally gloomy that day, even more so than usual. Maybe it was just that everyone was already in such a depressing mood, or because outside it had begun to rain once more. But Leah thought that it was rather Professor Masen’s deep scowl and burning eyes that bored into each of the students’ so murderously as they took their seats that were the cause.

Masen did not address anything about the events of the previous day. He started right into the lesson, writing impossible directions and unpronounceable incantations on the board. But the ferocity with which he flicked his wand and his horrible silence belied just how agitated he truly was.

“What are you all waiting for?” he barked, turning on them. “Get to work!” His black eyes sparked like embers, whether from the flickering lamps, or as of something else more disturbing that Leah couldn’t imagine, and she followed the rest of the class in hurrying to copy down the note.

When they were done he peered at them each in turn and said, “Now who’d like to be our guinea pig for today?” Everyone shrunk in their seats but Masen had eyes for only one. “Ah, Mr Weasley … perhaps you would be so kind as to try the Stinging Hex for us this time?”

Cory shook his head slowly.

“Now, Mr Weasley, we both know how imperative it is for the class to see the spell put into practice. You wouldn’t want to deprive your classmates of their education, would you?”

Cory whimpered and slid lower in his seat beside Leah. On his other side, Gwen nudged him in the ribs. “You’ve got to stand up to him,” she urged.

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbled. Then, taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and said, just above a whisper, “No, thank you,” to Masen.

Masen stopped for a minute in shock before bristling. “What did you just say to me, boy?”

Cory stood up, ramrod straight, from his desk, his muscles tensed. “I said no, thank you. I would not like to try.”

The students gasped at this unusual display of open defiance. Leah could feel her eyes popping out of her head. The professor looked at Cory, his burning eyes contracting into snake-like slits.

Leah suddenly realized that Cory wanted, more than anything, to run, to flee in that moment; so she grabbed his arm up into a death grip and refused to let go, holding on even while he begged her wordlessly to do just that. He was too far into this now.

“Excuse me?”

“I refuse to continue being your chew toy every lesson.”

“Cory, don’t!”

“Gwen, you told me to!”

She grabbed his other sleeve and Gwen and Leah sat like two sentinels on either side of Cory, ready to pull him back from where he stood at the slightest need. “To say no ... not to goad him. Look at him!”

Cory did and his blue eyes widened in confusion before shifting to horror at the sight of the dark form bending over him. He recoiled.

“DETENTION!” Masen roared, spit flying.





“You guys don’t understand!”

Leah and Gwen hurried along in Cory’s wake as he walked, nearly ran, through the corridors away from Professor Masen’s room. He had spoken hardly a word in the twenty minutes since they had left the disastrous Defence class and Leah was now seriously concerned for his mental health. He looked back at them over his shoulder, his face screwed up as if he were trying to hold in tears.

“Then tell us!” Gwen called.

“I only just realized … I knew I’d seen that sword around here before. I don’t know why Masen of all people reminded me; something about his eyes. Just follow me,” he said cryptically, and then there was no more talking as the two girls huffed along behind him, letting him take them where he may.

They turned another corridor and entered a long, skinny hallway with no windows. On their right hand side was a doorway to an unused classroom and as they slowed down, they heard muffled, raised voices coming from the other side. Cory stopped and plastered himself against the wall, then motioned for Leah and Gwen to do the same, holding one finger against his lips in a silent warning to be quiet.

“�“ But you must see the significance of this, Minerva! If it got out that His snake �“”

“This travesty getting out is the least that I am worried about right now, Rolanda. Surely you realize …”

“Of course I do,” the woman named Rolanda answered curtly, and Leah recognized the voice of Madam Hooch, the flying teacher. “But we all remember what Granger and Weasley told us that thing was, surely!”

“What do you think, Hagrid?” asked McGonagall suddenly.

“Well, I dunno now. We shouldn’t jump teh conclusions,” came the part-giant’s gruff baritone.

Professor Thomas said, “If that thing is indeed Nagini, then we shouldn’t be complaining; we’re one step closer now to finishing him for good than we ever were! I think that the real question should be who did this? Who would have had access to the snake that knows what it was? And have they destroyed any more?”

“That shouldn’t be difficult, there’s hardly anybody left who’d remember,” replied another familiar voice.

“There are a few, Poppy,” answered McGonagall.

Leah shifted uncomfortably in her space against the bricks. There was a sharp edge jabbing into her back, and she was getting rather restless. Beside her, Gwen transferred her weight from one foot to the other and Cory remained still, like a statue.

“Last time this happened it was because of the Chamber �“”

“Dean, you can’t be suggesting … really, You-Know-Who controls Hogwarts now. He already knows how to open it. And he’d never warn us, all the way from Scotland, that he’d opened it, if he had.”

“No, of course not, Minerva … All I’m suggesting is that we call some of the Order �“ Luna, Charlie, maybe Cho �“ for extra security.”

“I agree,” stated Poppy. “Our students could be in danger �“”

“Hush! I hear something.”

The voices stopped and Leah realized belatedly that, as she’d been moving around, she had kicked a small pebble and it had rolled across the stone floor, making a racket that echoed up and down the long passage. They could hear footsteps coming from within and she nearly screamed in surprise, but then Gwen clamped a sweaty hand over her mouth and pulled her back into the shadows of a recess in the wall. The door they’d been listening outside of cracked open, somebody mumbled, “Nobody out there, but we should take this somewhere else,” and it closed again.

In the recess, the trio were breathing heavily, their backs pressed up against the cold wall. A few seconds later the door opened again and most of the staff of Kootenay streamed out, uneasy and stressed-looking. As soon as they’d passed, Cory grabbed both Leah and Gwen’s arms and continued hauling them toward his mystery destination.

He pulled them up a flight of stairs, making Gwen stumble and fall. Picking herself up, she ranted at him madly as she brushed the dirt off her knees, “Cory, if you don’t tell us where we’re going right now, I’m going to put my foot somewhere and it won’t be pleasant!”

“We’re here,” he snapped back.

He was standing in front of a tiny oil painting, his eyes narrowed and holding a spark in them Leah didn’t like to see because it meant that he was upset about something. Depicted in the painting was a dark scene of a boy holding something long and shiny up against a huge monstrous snake that filled almost the entire frame. On the ground, appearing unconscious, was a smaller red-haired girl. The shimmering metal thing in the young boy’s hand, Leah was shocked to see, was a sword with a gold and ruby encrusted handle: the Sword of Gryffindor.

“Do you know the story behind this picture, Gwen?” Cory demanded.

She saw the fury in his face and stammered, “N-no.”

“Well, I do. And I need to talk to Hagrid. The weekend cannot come soon enough.”

Chapter Six
Eyes of the Past

The beginning of November brought the start of the Quidditch season at Kootenay and as a result, the castle was booming with the excitement of the upcoming first match between Talos and Athos. House rivalries were high and it was a rare day when a member of either team could walk down the corridors between classes without finding themselves the subject of a well-timed jinx by their opponents.

After breakfast on the day of the match, Leah, Gwen, Cory and Sean joined the rest of the school who were congregating in the stands around the Quidditch Pitch and found seats with the other Talos supporters. This was Leah’s first match, and although Gwen and Cory had explained the rules and intricate plays of the game to her several times over, she was still anxious to see the real thing for herself.

They pulled their cloaks and scarves tight around them in defence of the vicious wind. Below, Madam Hooch (who was refereeing) blew her whistle and the players �“ Talos in red, Athos in yellow �“ mounted their brooms and took their positions. The tiny fluttering Snitch was released; the heavy, black Bludgers were set free; the large, red Quaffle was tossed, and then the game was on!

They all flew so fast and Leah found it hard to keep her focus. She listened to the commentating happily and let it fill in the gaps she missed, and tried to keep her eye trained on the Chasers as they juggled the Quaffle between them.

“The Quaffle is taken immediately by Talos Chaser Amanda Orion,” said the amplified voice of the commentator. “And she is just weaving through the defence, folks, man that girl can fly!

“It looks like no one can stop her! A good pass to Martin Bletchley; now he’s a solid player, not usually the build for a Chaser �“ more of a Beater �“ back to Orion and she’s going for it, folks �“ no, intercepted in the last minute by Athos Keeper, Randy Pearson. And Athos takes the Quaffle �“ that’s Chaser Annemarie Smith up there, with a neat swerve around Talos Beater Scott Bratwurst’s Bludger �“ she’s almost there �“ no, she drops the Quaffle �“ it’s picked up by Felix Lewis of Talos, and �“ OHHH �“ that must’ve hurt, hit in the gut by a Bludger, sent his way by Lorcan Scamander �“ nice play by the Athos Beater. Now Orion back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes �“ she’s flying fast �“ she dodges another Bludger �“ the goal posts are ahead �“ Keeper Pearson goes for it �“ misses �“ TALOS SCORES!”

Cheers erupted from the Talos stands into the cold air, drowning out boos and moans from the Athos supporters, and the game continued on for a long time before they heard a gruff voice calling out over the racket.

“Budge up there, make room.” Hagrid was making his way through the stands towards them, huge binoculars swinging from his neck. “Cory, Leah, Gwen …” he greeted them.

“Hi, Hagrid,” said Leah as Gwen moved over to allow him to squish in beside her.

“I was watchin’ from down below,” he said. “This yer first game, Leah? How’re yeh likin’ it?”

She grinned. “It’s great!”

“Yeah, it’s really sumthin’, isn’t it? Look, even the teachers have come out ter watch.”

He pointed one of his dustbin-sized hands towards where a cluster of the teachers were sitting; Leah saw McGonagall, Thomas, and even Professor Masen watching the game attentively.

“I don’t like Masen,” said Cory quietly.

Hagrid stared at him, shocked. “What are yeh talkin’ about, Cory; what’s there not ter like about Masen?”

Now Leah and Gwen joined Cory in staring right back at the half-giant gamekeeper, ignoring the game as it played out below.

“What’s there not to like?” exclaimed Gwen. “The man is mad, Hagrid!”

“Sure, he may be a bit different, but he’s nice enough,” Hagrid replied loudly. “Why, jus’ last week he helped me replant some o’ me pumpkin patch: darn dog chased a rabbit righ’ through there and near tore it all up.”

They must have looked unconvinced because he added, “I’ve heard some o’ the rumours ‘round the school, yeah, but that’s all codswallop as far as I’m concerned. I won’ hear a word against him, yeh hear? An’ neither will the other teachers.”

They were saved from answering by Athos Chaser, Chelsea Thomas, scoring the Quaffle through the middle hoop. Around them, students were moaning as Athos evened up the score and beside Leah, Sean bellowed as loud as he could, “OPEN YOUR EYES, BROOKS!" at the Talos Keeper.

Talos scored another goal not five minutes later and by then the conversation was forgotten in favour of watching the game.

“Magnificent goal by Lewis just now,” the commentator was saying. “Now Athos is in possession �“ Cook dives around a Bludger �“ she’s approaching the posts, she’s going for it �“ Brooks catches it �“ but, wait �“!

“I think our Seekers have spotted the Snitch, folks!” the commentator screamed into the microphone. “They’re certainly battling it out down there. Oh, look, Athos Seeker Zack Graves didn’t pull out in time �“ he’s smashed into the stands �“ did Talos make it?” A blur of red and gold shot up into the air, arm extended, waving a tiny, winged ball in its fist. “And she did! Seeker Vanessa Hayes has the Snitch! This game is over: TALOS WINS! ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY TO THIRTY!”

The game had lasted all morning and most of lunch. The crowd went wild as the Talos team did a victory lap around the stadium, and the audience exited the stands: Talos in high spirits and Athos to much grumbling and complaints. Sean, swallowed by the oncoming crowd, had gone to go congratulate his brother on the win and Cory was saying goodbye before they separated for the afternoon: him to detention with Masen, and Leah and Gwen to do some homework in the common room before dinner.





Cory did not come to dinner or join them in the common room at all that night. He wasn’t at breakfast the next day either. Sean said that he’d come in extremely late the night before, shaking badly, and had fallen, exhausted, upon his bed and was still sleeping soundly when he had left for the Great Hall that morning.

They did not see him at all, in fact, until after breakfast, when they were waiting outside the Potions’ dungeons before class began. When he did arrive, it was immediately apparent that something had happened in the hours he’d been with the Defence professor, for his eyes were red like he hadn’t slept in weeks and he was shaking violently. He didn’t say a word and when they tried to force it out of him with shameless begging, he only said, “Not now.”

Professor Kettlewell opened the door and the class streamed in behind her. They started their boil cure potion, lighting the fire and readying ingredients without incident. Leah crushed the snake fangs into a fine powder while Cory stewed the horned slugs and Gwen, easily the worst at potions, was in charge of the simple job of adding the porcupine quills to the cauldron at the appropriate time.

When their potion was successfully bubbling, Gwen asked impatiently, “So, Cory, what in Merlin’s name happened at that detention?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled.

“Nuh uh, no way, you are not getting out of this!”

The ladle he was stirring with dropped with a clunk onto the table as he faced her. “Just stop it, Gwen.”

Seeing where this was inevitably going, Leah interjected, “Cory, please. We’re your friends. We want to help.”

“Well you can’t,” he fumed, picking up the ladle again and viciously circling it through the potion.

“What do you think will happen if you tell us? That we’ll laugh; that we won’t like you anymore? We’re bigger than that and I thought you knew it.” She gave him a pointed look, trying to convey what she knew about his family and that she didn’t care about that either.

He sighed. Choosing some dried nettles from the pile and the rest of Leah’s snake fangs, he added those into the now murky brown liquid. “If I tell you, you’ll believe me, no matter how crazy?”

“Of course,” said Leah. Gwen nodded.

He lowered his voice until it was just below than a whisper. “When I was with Masen,” he breathed, “I messed up … again.” He averted his gaze, ashamed. “I was wiping the classroom desks clean, by hand, and I knocked the bucket of water with my elbow, right onto Masen’s shoes … his very expensive shoes, as he made sure to point out. Anyways, he got really mad �“ too mad for something so small �“ and I looked at him, meaning to apologize. But, when I saw his eyes …”

His voice faded until they couldn’t hear it at all. He shivered, and maybe the cool draft coming through the window into the dank dungeon could be blamed if he hadn’t been wearing his thick winter cloak overtop of his normal school robes like everybody else.

“His e-eyes …” Cory stammered. “When I looked at him, they t-turned … red.”

“What?” Gwen said.

“His eyes, they turned red,” he repeated more insistently.

Gwen’s sharp bark of laughter echoed throughout the silent classroom and Professor Kettlewell shushed her crossly. Adopting a quieter tone at once, she whispered, “Don’t joke, Cory. Nobody has red eyes, except for albinos, and Masen is many things but albino isn’t one of them.”

He glared at Gwen but beseeched Leah. “I’m not. Honestly.”

“But, Cory,” answered Leah slowly, “you know that’s not possible, right? Professor Masen has black eyes.”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” he huffed.

“Cory …” said Leah. “It’s not that we don’t want to believe you, but think about what you’re saying! Masen’s eyes changing colours? It’s impossible.”

“I’m telling you, one minute they were as black as night and the next they were bright red! Just �“ just never mind, all right? Gwen, add the porcupine quills.”

Gwen grabbed the quills and was holding them over the cauldron, which was still on the fire, when Leah saw and yelled, “NO!” She was just in time. Leah had grabbed Gwen’s arm to pull her back and Gwen’s hand automatically closed tighter around the porcupine quills as Cory quickly lifted the cauldron. Once their potion was safe Gwen dropped in the quills, and as soon as the proper shade of clear white steam was billowing happily from the top, the three of them let out a collective sigh of relief.

Cory and Leah shook their heads and Gwen, smilingly sheepishly, just said, “Oops,” and muffled her laughter behind the palm of her hand.

When they left the classroom twenty minutes later, Cory was disgruntled and Gwen was mad. It was up to Leah, walking between them, to intercept glares and swatting hands as they made the journey to Hagrid’s hut by the black lake.

“If you had just waited �“” Cory was accusing. He seemed incapable of forming a complete sentence. “If Leah had been a bit slower �“”

“Well, if you hadn’t told me to add the porcupine quills yet, or had taken it off the fire quicker; you know I suck at potions �“ ” Gwen was replying just as viciously.

Hagrid’s hut was located in a small valley just off of the main school grounds, surrounded by the Rockies and accompanied on one side by the black lake. As the three approached they could make out the hulking shadow of the half-giant and his large boarhound dog, Fang, as the gamekeeper tended to his beloved pumpkin patch, and when he spotted them and waved his large beefy hand, Cory and Gwen miraculously stopped their bickering just long enough to wave cheerily back.

“Hi, Hagrid,” said Leah when they came within hearing distance.

He led them into the log hut (it was too small to be called a cabin) and started the kettle over the fire for tea. Leah, Cory and Gwen took seats at the round, wobbly table, Fang drooling on their shoes. Hagrid sat down in the corner in a cosy armchair that groaned grumpily under his weight, and smiled at them. “So, Gwen, how’s yer Dad doin’?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” said Gwen.

“An’ yer studies? The three o’ yeh are keepin’ up all righ’?”

“Everything’s good,” she replied.

“Actually,” interrupted Cory loudly, cutting across Gwen’s soft voice, “Everything’s not. I wanted to talk to you about something, Hagrid.”

“Eh, an’ what might that be, Cory?” The kettle started whistling and Hagrid heaved himself up to retrieve it from the fire. When Cory said, “Voldemort,” stridently, as if setting himself up for a blow, with his eyes once more blazing and his jaw set, the gamekeeper nearly dropped it, boiled water and all, onto his dolphin-sized feet.

“Don’ say tha’ name!” Hagrid roared. “Who d’yeh think yeh are �“ Dumbledore?”

“My dad said that fear of a name �“”

“Only increases fear of the thing itself; yeah, I know tha’ rubbish. And rubbish is what it is. Who do yeh think told yer dad that, eh? It was all Dumbledore. An’ I don’ want ter hear yeh callin’ him that: bad things used ter happen ter wizards who said the name.”

“But, that’s just it,” whispered Gwen, “it’s just a name. Why be scared of it?”

Hagrid poured them all tea before carefully setting the kettle on the table with shaking hands. “Yeh youngsters can’t understand what it was like in England before he won. Yeh jus’ can’t, and that makes yeh naïve, or stupid. How can yeh know whether he’s put the taboo back on his name until yeh’ve got Death Eaters poundin’ at yer door? Yeh can’t, so it’s better ter jus’ keep good an’ quiet.

“Now, Cory,” said Hagrid. “Yer family are some of the bravest bunch o’ wizards an’ witches I know, those ones alive an’ not, an’ I can see yer jus’ like ‘em, but it does yeh no good ter be reckless an’ yer dad would say the same.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” said Cory. He took a bite of one of Hagrid’s rock cakes from the plate in the center of the table, gagged, and spit it out into his hand again while Hagrid wasn’t looking. “But you can’t run from him forever, Hagrid. Things are happening at this school �“ strange things �“ you must’ve noticed. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Gryffindor’s sword suddenly shows up here of all places, shoved through the guts of a snake �“ His symbol �“ after years of being lost. And then there’s the writing on the wall … the letters: H �“ A. You know that he hasn’t given up, Hagrid: there are still people that he wants dead after twelve years.”

“Longer then tha’,” grumbled Hagrid.

Cory had stood up to pace in front of the fireplace and Leah leaned forward in her seat to better see his darkened face. “That painting you showed us … the one with the snake and the boy … that has something to do with this, you think? With him?” asked Leah.

“I’m sure of it,” Cory replied.

“But what’s so special about that painting? Is it like the other one … is it �“?”

“Another memoir,” said Cory quietly. “Yes.”

“What’s this?” Hagrid asked, but they ignored him.

“Who?” Leah whispered.

“My aunt, and �“”

Gwen’s open palm all of a sudden flew to cover her mouth. “Harry Potter!” she gasped.

Cory nodded and resumed his seat. Nobody breathed for a long moment; even Fang had gone still. Then, Cory said, “My dad told my mom a story once, about his sister �“ my Aunt Ginny. I wasn’t supposed to hear, but I was listening through the door and I caught every word.

“In her first year at Hogwarts, she found this old diary; she didn’t know what it could do at first, how evil it was, until it was nearly too late. She was lonely, didn’t have many friends, only this diary, and so like any other lonely, homesick eleven-year-old girl, she wrote in it. The amazing thing was it could write back! She spilled all of her secrets, hopes, fears into this diary; it was her confidant, her best friend.

“During this time, awful things started to happen at the school. People were being petrified �“ they later discovered it was a basilisk, a huge snake that could travel through the pipes to get where it wanted to go �“ and the school was in danger of being shut down. One day, my uncle and his two best friends discovered writing on the wall written in blood and the caretaker’s cat, petrified, hanging on a torch bracket. The writing said that a girl had been taken someplace hidden in the school and would be killed.

“Well, my uncle and his friend (the second had been petrified not long after) knew that it was Ginny who’d been taken. They found where she was hidden. The friend, he went down there and he found her; she was dying, the diary had drawn her in until her actual soul was very nearly lost. An image of a boy �“ the boy Voldemort �“ came out of the diary and the friend defeated him by piercing the diary with one of the basilisk’s teeth, and then defeated the basilisk … with a sword: the Sword of Gryffindor.”

“You think that the same thing is happening again?” asked Leah quietly. “That there’s like ... a ghost or something of You-Know-Who that’s doing these things?”

“No ... I don’t know. Not the same thing, exactly, but I think the two are related somehow.”

Cory slumped against the back of his seat and Leah rubbed his shoulder gently. Hagrid had flinched at the sound of Voldemort’s name and now he stared directly into the fire, tears trickling down and through his thick beard.

Gwen, meanwhile, was shaking with anger. “I knew it!” she raged at Cory, shooting to her feet. “I knew you were one of the famous Weasleys!”

“Yeah?” he retorted. “So what? I admit it. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Yeh shouldn’t tell stories like that, Cory,” said Hagrid, disregarding the brewing storm between the two. “Yeh hear me? Those were dark times.”

“They’re still dark, or have you forgotten what’s going on in Europe?” He stood up and gestured wildly at the thin air.

“Now, Cory, yer family wouldn't've wanted �“”

“I don't care about what they would have wanted! They're not here to tell me what they would have wanted!”

“What’s this?” demanded Hagrid, his chest puffing out and for once looking just like the half-giant he was. “Yeh ashamed? Why, yer should be proud o’ yer family! Look at what they’ve done for the Wizarding world!”

“Stop talking about them like they’re heroes, like they’re still alive!”

“They did great things in their day �“”

“AND LOOK AT WHERE THAT GOT THEM! DEAD AND BURIED IN THE GROUND!” And then he seemed to deflate like a balloon that’s lost all of its gas. Cory looked from Hagrid to Gwen, the latter cowering under his glare.

Their tea was cold and long since forgotten, but either none of them noticed or just didn’t care.

“You really want to be a Weasley, Gwen?” asked Cory in a deadly voice. “Or you want to know why I didn’t tell you sooner?” She didn’t answer. “It was because of this! When people find out, they don’t see me as me anymore; they just see them or try to see them in me. My dad is the only one of that side of my family that survived Voldemort … and I hate it, I goddamn hate it.

“You mark my words, something is going on at Kootenay and it has to do with him, the sword, and the snake on that tree, but if you don’t believe me, well, that’s your own problem.”

With one final glower he pushed past them and stormed out the door. Gwen stood, frozen in place, confused and angry; she rushed out after a moment too, hurrying in the opposite direction as Cory. Only Leah was left alone with Hagrid, in the middle of a battlefield with no blood or bodies, but which seemed to have killed something all the same.

“They’re always fighting,” Leah groaned. “I never have any peace when they’re together.”

Hagrid chuckled, but it sounded hollow and sad. “Jus’ like his uncle, tha’ one. But give it a few years, Leah, an’ yeh won’ be able ter separate them. Like Ron an’ Hermione, Harry didn’t know what ter do wit’ those two either.”

When she left to hunt down her friends, he stood in the doorway and solemnly watched her go.





Later, when Leah stepped through the statue hole, Gwen trailing behind her, it was only to have to stop short the next minute in fear of slamming into her other best friend. Cory was standing stock still in front of her, his eyes locked onto a small gaggle of boys by the window. One of them, a tall brown-haired fourth year, was talking rapidly, his arms tossing in haphazard circles. His voice sounded loud and clear across the room and it was clearly this conversation that had Cory so shocked dumb. Subconsciously, Leah thought she felt Gwen collide into her back behind her, but she didn’t move out of her way.

The one that was causing all of the commotion suddenly exclaimed in an excited voice, “And then I looked up, and they were black again!”

This seemingly simple statement had a profound effect on Cory. Desperately, he strode forward until he was nearly banging chests with the boy, and he demanded, “You’ve seen them too? You’ve seen Masen’s eyes change from black to red?”

Realizing what this must be about, Leah started to move forward, only to be pulled back again by Gwen.

The boy was confused. He screwed up his eyes and shook his head. “No. No, they changed to green, not red. Bright green.”

Cory opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again, clearly at a lost for words. “Green? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent. Why?”

But he didn’t seem to hear. He gazed off into space and mumbled to himself, “That doesn’t make sense. Why doesn’t it make sense?”

Bored with Cory’s muttering, the boy turned back to his friends and they walked away, talking in anxious whispers and repeatedly glancing back over their shoulders at Cory. He stood in the middle of the common room, not moving, and Leah finally dragged Gwen over to him so that they could force him into sitting down. He continued his far away solitary mutterings and took no notice of anything else the rest of the night.

“What do you think it means?” asked Leah later after Cory had climbed the stairs to bed. “The eye-changing thing, I mean.”

“I have no idea,” Gwen said. “Professors’ eyes just don’t change colour randomly on their own. How could they both have thought they saw the same thing?”

“Maybe he’s using Muggle contacts?”

“A charm or something would be more likely.”

“That what, wears off and then reapplies itself all on its own? I doubt it.”

Gwen shrugged, getting bored with the subject. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe so,” said Leah, “but I’m going to find out what’s happening now. First that snake, and then this … It’s too weird.”

“Mmm,” agreed Gwen vaguely and then they drifted off into silence, thinking their own thoughts, before climbing the stairs to bed.

Chapter Seven
Christmas Cheer

November soon moved into December with a fury �“ snow now permanently covered the grounds and Herbology had been moved temporarily indoors once the plants had started growing icicles on their leaves in the greenhouses. Students could be spotted having snowball fights and toboggan races during breaks and Hagrid was seen one evening during a harsh blizzard dragging ten full-sized Christmas trees from the woods into the Great Hall. The holidays were fast approaching and no amount of cold could squash everyone’s sudden excitement.

On a less joyous note, Cory and Gwen had refused to speak one word to each other since their fight down at Hagrid’s hut last month and Leah was now reduced to taking turns listening to them complain at her since neither of them would consent to be within five feet of the other. It made for awkward pairings in class because both of them only wanted Leah as a partner and she had to pick between the two, always leaving one friend out every time.

“I wouldn’t be so mad if he’d just told me himself,” Gwen had vented to Leah during History of Magic one day. “I think I have a right to know who I’m friends with. You don’t have some sordid secret life you haven’t told me about, do you?” she teased.

“Of course not,” Leah had replied. “Look, would you just talk to him; sort this thing out?”

“I mean,” Gwen continued, distracted, “I asked him, flat out, in the Hospital Wing, remember? On the train to school, too. And he denied it. Looked straight in my face and denied it. What kind of friend is that?”

Leah had even less success with Cory. Every time she brought up Gwen or their fight, he promptly turned his head and wouldn’t speak until she’d changed the subject. The one time she could get him to speak of it he said that it was his family and he, Cory, had every right to disclose as little information about them as possible if he wished, and if Gwen couldn’t deal with that, then he had no business being friends with her.

Leah couldn’t deny that Cory had a point, but so did Gwen; and so she contented herself with just attempting to bring them as close together as possible as often as possible in the hopes that they’d eventually work it out for themselves.

But it was now a week before Christmas holidays and nothing had changed. And there were other important matters to worry about �“ like the snake, and why whoever had done it had seemingly found it so funny.

“You want to find out what’s going on around here, don’t you?” she asked Cory while they were eating lunch in the Great Hall; she had dragged Gwen with her, and now the other girl was slumped moodily in her seat, trying hard to ignore Cory sitting right across from her. “You know �“ the snake, Masen ...”

“Yeah,” he replied, looking up from his apple tart. “I thought I made that clear at Hagrid’s.”

“Good, because so do we.” She indicated herself and Gwen as the latter nodded stiffly in agreement.

“But what can we do about it?”

“Well,” said Leah, “I’ve been thinking about that. You said that your dad wouldn’t let you read any books about the Final Battle? And Gwen: that your dad never talked about it?” They nodded simultaneously. “Then that’s where we start,” she concluded. “We search the library for anything about it we can find, we figure out who was there, who never left ... something must be in all of those books. Because you could be right, Cory; there is something about Masen that doesn’t add up. Maybe we’re biased because he’s so mean, but I believe there’s more to it.”

“And how are we going to balance this, too, what with classes and homework, and visiting Hagrid?” asked Gwen. “It’s going to take forever to look through all that paper!”

“We can start during the holidays. You’re staying here for Christmas, aren’t you, Gwen? Then you can begin searching the library for us. Cory’s going home and my dad ... he’s expecting me, too, but you could catch us up when we get back. Maybe Cory could even try asking his dad again what he remembers about that time.”

“He won’t tell me,” said Cory. “I’ve tried a hundred times.”

“Once more couldn’t hurt,” implored Leah. “He would be our best source for information.”

“Hagrid might know something ...” suggested Gwen thoughtfully. “He fought in both wars, and he lived at Hogwarts for years.”

Leah nodded. “Good idea, Gwen.”

Just then a flutter of wings and sharp hoots singled the arrival of the post as tons of owls swooped into the Great Hall. A brown barn owl landed in front of Cory and dropped a thin envelope into his open hand.

“It’s from my dad,” murmured Cory as he read the letter, frowning. “He says that he wants me to stay at Kootenay for Christmas; apparently he and mum are visiting old friends and Will, Molly, and Liz will be staying at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

“I’m sorry, Cory,” said Leah, seeing his crestfallen face. Then she smiled slowly. “But, I guess you can help Gwen now with research in the library.”

Both of her friends turned identical scowls on her as she grinned.





As the last few days before holidays began, Leah started to rethink her decision of going back to her dad. Kootenay had quickly become a home to her: it was where her friends were, where make-believe and reality seamlessly merged together as a simple fact of life. She even enjoyed the classes a bit. And it was so different from Toronto, where she had always felt a bit discomfited and out of place.

Cory and Gwen could hardly fail to notice her increasing reluctance as the time to depart drew ever closer, and so they set out to solve this latest problem, even going so far as to temporarily put their ongoing argument to a rest and cornering Leah in the common room one morning.

“Why don’t you want to go home, Leah?” demanded Cory, standing with his arms crossed before the fire, as Gwen sat down with Leah.

“I do want to go home,” she protested weakly. Cory just snorted. She didn’t blame him; she was a terrible liar.

“Something’s going on, Leah,” said Gwen honestly. “Do you think we haven’t noticed? You’ve been withdrawn and moody all week. Now spill, ‘cause we won’t let you get away with it.” She smiled encouragingly.

“You made me tell you about my detention with Masen,” put in Cory.

“Does it have to do with your dad?” asked Gwen. “I thought you would want to see him ... I mean, we know you love him �“”

Leah looked into the faces of the two people in the world who meant the most to her; if she couldn’t tell them this one thing, then did that mean she didn’t trust them? But she knew she could trust them with anything, and they wouldn’t abandon her or view her any differently. They had proved it again and again. After all, wasn’t that what she’d been trying to tell Cory ever since he had told her of his secret?

“I do love him,” she began. “I love him so much. But at the same time ... there’s something inside me that just c-can’t.” She was crying now, and so were they, although she had hardly told them anything.

“It’s just ...” she whispered, “You know my mom died when I was six, right?” She took a deep breath. “But what you don’t know is that it was because of me that she died.”

“Oh, Leah, of course it wasn’t,” said Gwen.

“It’s the truth.” She stared into the embers of the dying fire, the words that had been bottled and hidden for so long pouring out like water through a broken dam. “She was driving me to a friend’s slumber party one night, but she hadn’t been feeling well all day. My dad was supposed to take me but he was called out to work unexpectedly �“ a mare had gone into labour at some farm outside of town �“ so I begged my mom to. She was distracted the whole way there, and I kept bugging her, because I was going to be late. She was trying to calm me down when the car in front braked suddenly; she couldn’t stop in time.

“We crashed into the back of the other car. I got away with only a few scrapes �“” Her voice caught in her throat uncomfortably. “But my mom, her head collided with the steering wheel and she died on impact.”

“You don’t have to �“” whispered Cory hoarsely. He looked sick.

Leah shook her head. “I’m almost done,” she said. “My ... my dad ... he was never the same afterwards; he walked around like a zombie that whole first year. My grandfather moved in and he tried to help as much as he could ... but I ended up taking care of the house, and the vet practice, and the both of us. He says he doesn’t blame me, I was just a kid, and for the most part I believe him. But sometimes I’ll catch this look in his eyes when he looks at me; this accusing look. And it’ll be gone the next second, making me think I’d imagined it, but ... well. It’s just so awkward to live together sometimes. Part of the reason I was so excited to come here was for the ten months of space I would get.”

She finally finished and closed her eyes. She felt more than saw Cory sitting down on one side of her as Gwen entwined their fingers on the other. He put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“That’s just awful, Leah,” said Gwen. She made no attempt to tell her that everything would be okay, or that it would get better, and Leah silently thanked her for it.

“Does it make me a bad daughter,” Leah asked shyly, “To not want to go home, to wish to stay away just a little longer?”

“I think ... that you would be crazy if you didn’t feel ... the way you feel ... sometimes,” said Gwen. “Everybody deserves a break.”

“You can always ask McGonagall if you can still put your name on the list of students staying,” said Cory. “I’m sure she’d let you.”

“I’ve looked after him for so long �“”

Gwen squeezed their fingers tightly. “Leah, you need looking after, too.”

But Leah needed to go; her dad would only worry needlessly. Even if she was having doubts, she knew she would always go, because some things just naturally came first, and family was one of them. “No,” she smiled gratefully, “no, I should go home. My dad needs me. But thanks.”

She wiped her soaked cheeks dry and met the eyes of her best friends. Leah knew that they understood each other completely in that moment. And she knew just how truly lucky she was to have them.





When the time finally arrived to leave, Gwen and Cory waved her off at the local station and wished her a good trip. She played Exploding Snap with Sarah, Nia, and Sean in their private carriage as the train slowly chugged its way home. Nia left once they reached the Saskatoon stop, while Sean was with them until Winnipeg; Sarah would stay on after Leah got off in Toronto until she reached Halifax on the far side of the country.

All too soon they were pulling into the hidden magical platform in Union Station. She spotted her dad standing a bit back from the rest of the anxious parents, shifting his feet nervously. He appeared torn between being both elated and lost, and as he waved, she felt a rush of affection for him that had lain dormant for too long. The train had barely screeched to a halt before Leah found herself grabbing Soot and flinging herself from the seat, into his arms; he twirled her around in the air, both of them laughing, and Leah wondered how she could have ever entertained the thought of not being here.

“Hey.” He pulled her tight to him as he guided her to the car. “Feel like grabbing a bite to eat before we head home? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Sure,” she beamed. Maybe the time away had done them some good after all.





“Nothing! Days of searching through all these musty old books and we’ve found absolutely nothing!”

Gwen was, Cory thought, the most annoying girl he had ever had the misfortune of meeting. She was whiny, and loud, and if Leah would have ever talked to him again afterwards, he would’ve happily throttled her a million times before now and then stepped on her a thousand times more just to be sure.

“Do you think you’re the only one that’s frustrated?” he snapped back, flipping angrily through the large tomb he was currently searching through. The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter �“ obviously, their material was dwindling.

“It’s just useless, is all!” she huffed. “It would help a bit, too, if we had more of an idea of what we were searching for. Say we do find something, how are we supposed to know that it’s what we were looking for?”

“We’ll know it when we see it,” he said. He didn’t want to admit that the same thought had crossed through his own mind; there was just so much about the wars: the history, the dead, the living, and the after effects. They had to sift through it all.

“I wonder why Hagrid wouldn’t tell us anything.” She had a pile of yellowing newspaper clippings from England’s The Daily Prophet spread out around her on the library table. “Don’t you think that was a bit strange?”

“No different than our parents refusing to tell us,” answered Cory.

The day before, the two of them had traveled down to Hagrid’s hut again and asked him what he remembered about the war. He had looked completely shaken the moment the words had left their mouths and refused to say a word of it before he had none-too-politely told them to leave and not to come back if they were only going to bring up what was best left forgotten.

She sighed. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“And we didn’t really give him a reason to tell us. Why should he bring up something that’s obviously painful if he doesn’t know the reason?”

“Good Merlin, Cory! Are you on his side or ours?” exclaimed Gwen.

“Nobody said anything about sides, Gwen,” he replied. He flipped through a few more pages in the Skeeter woman’s book, his eyes flicking back and forth across the paper as he skimmed through the text.

“Whatever. The point is, you would think that everyone’d be a bit more interested in their fellow professor, and if not that, then why a bloody snake was killed on the grounds! They’re all ignoring it. Don’t you �“ Cory, are you even listening to me?”

“Stupid load of trash!” he cried suddenly and he flung the book away from him. “That woman is a real piece of work, and I don’t even know her! The things she wrote about Dumbledore ... who would believe that he was into the Dark Arts when he was young, or that he had ever had that type of relationship with Harry Potter?”

Gwen stared at him strangely before picking up the next book on the pile. It was thin and battered with a plain black cover and gold script. She read a couple paragraphs from the middle of the book before tossing it to Cory and saying, “Here, this is guy more boring than Monroe on his best day! You take it, I honestly can’t stand anymore.”

He took it and continued reading where she’d left off. “Gwen ...” he said after a minute. “What was that name that the teachers were saying when we overheard them in the empty classroom; they called the snake it ... started with an N ...?”

“Nagini?” she said.

“Yeah, that’s it. Listen to this: “In the beginning, You-Know-Who did not take part in the battle. Witnesses Weasley and Granger later claimed him to be residing in the Shrieking Shack with his protected snake, Nagini, as his servants fought in his name,” he read in a low voice.

“That snake was You-Know-Who’s?” she gasped.

“Sounds like it,” said Cory, just as stunned. “But then ... how could �“ how did ... it get here?”

They both shuddered at the thought and then silence overtook them. Gwen gazed out the nearby window, where you could see the east end of the lake and the beginning of the forest behind it. As she watched, a dark speck was rounding the water’s edge, coming from the direction of the forest. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at the figure.

Cory followed her gaze to the speck, his eyes narrowing, and whispered, “It almost looks like ... Masen.”

“What is he doing coming out of the forest?” said Gwen just as quietly. “I thought McGonagall said it was forbidden. Or is that only for students?”

“It isn’t.” A hard expression changed his face as he jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process.

“What are you doing, Cory?” she hissed.

“What does it look like? I’m going after him!”

“No, you can’t,” she cried. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t just go running off after him! What are you going to say if you catch up to him �“ ‘oh, sorry, Professor, I just wanted to know what evil thing you’re planning next by going off into the dark forest alone!’”

“Gwen, we need to know what he’s after. What if he’s planning on something really bad?” She tried to grab onto his shirttail as he started to leave but it slipped through her fingers and he sprinted out of the library.

“Why are �“ you �“ so �“ attracted �“ to �“ life-threatening �“ IDIOCY?” she yelled, gasping for breath and running as fast as she could after him.

But he just wrapped his hand around her wrist and tugged her along. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t think �“ all he knew was that he had to keep Masen from whatever it was he was doing. Their heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor and they were forced to weave around crowds of students as they made their way to the Entrance Hall. The sun outside the windows had started to sink, signalling that curfew was approaching, but he didn’t slow down. They rounded a final corner, the great double doors of the castle in sight, and then it happened.

A violent gust of wind blasted their faces, and they shivered against it. A thick mist was surrounding them. Somebody must have left the doors open, because suddenly the temperature dropped and goose bumps raced up Cory’s arm.

The cold was all-consuming. They stopped in their tracks; nobody else was in this corridor with them. The hand of Cory’s that was holding Gwen’s wrist slid down so it was covering her palm and they held on tightly to each other, drawing their bodies closer, as they both felt helplessness and fear take over.

“W-w-what i-is t-this?” Gwen stuttered. She shut her eyes as if in pain.

He couldn’t answer her. His ears were ringing with the sound of horrible screams �“ his brother and his mother crying as one �“ as his brother fell off his broom at an impossible height. His father yelling at him for being so irresponsible; his sisters silent and scared; his mother draped over her youngest son’s hospital bed as they awaited news.

That had been the worst day of Cory’s life. Will had only been four years old. Will had almost died at the age of four because of him.

Cory felt his knees give out and hit the cold stone floor, and then he remembered where he was �“ not at the hospital, waiting to see if he’d killed his brother, but at school, with Gwen, in this corridor that was too cold and too dark. He sensed more than saw Gwen falling beside him, still clutching his hand.

Then somebody was shouting “Expecto Patronum” above them, and Cory looked up, his eyes feasting upon the shimmering white shield that had materialized there. The light was blinding, painfully so, but he felt warm and protected, so he let himself close his eyes and submit to the creeping darkness behind their lids.

Chapter Eight
The Tip of the Iceberg

The letter was burning a hole in Leah’s pocket the entire train ride back to school. Not physically, of course, but it might as well have been. This was the “surprise” that her dad had had waiting for her at home, but she hadn’t opened it yet; she was scared to look at the contents, knowing who had written it.

The train rumbled steadily along its tracks, and Leah slumped lower in her seat, not even bothering to watch the wheat fields that touched the sky as they flew by the window. She didn’t want to be comforted by their tranquility; the way the yellow of the stalks joined seamlessly in harmony with the blue above. She didn’t want to open that letter and read what her mother had written to her before her death. But if she was to have any privacy while reading it, this was her chance.

Sighing, she carefully removed it from the inner pocket of her winter coat, holding it like a precious ancient artefact. The paper was a bit wrinkled from many abandoned years, but the small, sloping letters in bright blue ink were the same as she remembered.

Do it now, the voice of her subconscious whispered.

But what if it’s bad? She silently replied. What if whatever’s in here is horrible? Why else would Dad have kept it from me for five years?

He said he found it only after you left; it wasn’t on purpose. And what if it’s good? Great, even. What do you have to lose?

I don’t know. That’s the problem.

Trembling, she slipped a finger beneath the seal and slit it open, dropping the single folded piece of paper onto her open hand. She unfolded the note and read the short letter, her eyes growing in wonder at each passing word. And when she was done, she replaced it back in its envelope, hid it in her pocket, and waited for the world to stop spinning around her.

The rest of the train ride was just as long as the beginning. Sean stopped by about three hours into it and they chatted for a bit. By the time the large green engine pulled into Balfour Station, it was dinner time and she just wanted to find her bed and sleep until next week. She pulled her trunk down from the overhead compartment, picked up Soot in his cat basket, and had hardly taken two steps from the train when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Ms. Andrews, will you come with me, please?”

Leah turned around to see the Headmistress standing behind her, a strange look upon her face. It was the sort of look that made Leah wish she could run far away in the opposite direction.

“Is something wrong, Professor?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” she declared, and without further instruction started to walk away from Leah, who had to run to catch up. They strode briskly down the dirt path leading to the castle, hurrying past the rest of the students heading to the Great Hall. “Leah �“ may I call you Leah?”

“Of course, Professor.”

“Thank you. Leah, your friends, Mr Weasley and Ms Seward, were coming back from the library late last night and happened across a dementor that had somehow found its way onto the grounds. Do not worry, they are perfectly fine �“ nothing that a bit of chocolate cannot fix �“” Leah must have looked as confused as she felt, because McGonagall quickly backtracked. “Do you know what a dementor is, Leah?”

“No,” said Leah. “What are they? Are Gwen and Cory ok? What happened?”

“Dementors,” said McGonagall solemnly, “are dark creatures, amongst the foulest that walk this earth. They feed upon happiness, upon your most treasured memories, until nothing but every negative feeling or thought you have ever experienced is left. When they are around, they will force you to relive your worst memory �“ even if it is one you do not consciously remember. If they can, they will ‘kiss’ you, which is what we call it when they suck out your soul. They used to be used to guard the Wizard prison, Azkaban, before they sided with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named during the war.

“They are definitely not the type of thing that you would normally encounter at a school, for instance.”

One sentence stuck out in her terror-stricken mind. “They’re not ... it didn’t �“ Gwen and Cory still have their souls, don’t they?”

“Yes, yes. Of course they do. They are perfectly safe now �“ resting in the hospital wing �“ and getting quite anxious to be out of there, might I add. I thought you might worry if you didn’t see them at the feast.”

Well, she was worried now. But she kept this to herself; you just didn’t go around talking back to somebody like the Headmistress.

“I still don’t understand, Professor,” said Leah. “How did this thing ... this dementor, get on the grounds in the first place?”

“That, I am sorry to say, I cannot answer. We have every conceivable type of ward and protective enchantment surrounding the premises; Aurors guarding every entrance. If I knew the answer to that question, Ms Andrews, I would rest far better at night.”

They entered through the front doors and spent the rest of the walk to the hospital wing in silence. “I trust you can find your way now,” said McGonagall when they had reached the door. “I must leave you here; there is a feast to supervise.” And with a swirl of her robes, she was gone.

She was met with a double cry of “Leah!” when she pushed open the hospital wing door. Cory and Gwen were sitting up in two beds beside each other, munching through a huge mound of chocolate, looking very much alive and with souls intact.

“What happened?” Leah asked as she quickly took a seat between them.

“Well, Cory here, decided to play hero by chasing the psychotic professor, and almost got us both killed,” sneered Gwen as she glared at Cory

“We wouldn’t have been killed,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“No, only have had our souls sucked out! Not really that much better!”

“It’s not my fault!” said Cory indignantly. “If you were my friend �“”

“Oh, really ...” drawled Gwen. “Who decided to go after Masen, and who suggested that we not? That makes this your fault! And how in Merlin’s name are we friends? Friends don’t fight so much over stupid, little things like we do. The only thing that we have in common is that we’re friends with Leah!”

“Guys,” moaned Leah. “Please stop. What on earth does Masen have to do with this?”

“What doesn’t he?” muttered Cory. With an indignant huff, he turned his back to Gwen.

Now Gwen rolled her eyes. “We were in the library, researching, when we saw Masen exiting the forest; it looked suspicious, to say the least. Cory started to run after him and I followed, trying to stop him. We had almost made it to the front doors when, out of nowhere, a dementor appeared in front of us!”

“That’s pretty much what McGonagall said,” said Leah.

“We just stood there and ... we saw our worst memories play out in our minds,” said Cory in a low voice. “I was seven and my little brother had begged me to take him flying on a real broomstick for once, not a toy one. My parents didn’t know, and when they came out and started yelling at him to come down ... he fell. He was in the hospital for three days ... He almost �“ he almost d-died.” He shuddered.

Leah felt her hand rise to cover her mouth in shock. “Gwen, what did you see?”

“Nothing as bad as that,” she answered. Her eyes flitted sympathetically at Cory for a brief minute; he didn’t notice. “Just my parents fighting ... that’s all. They hardly ever fight, so when they do it’s always bad. I was really young at the time of the memory, and I was hiding in my room under the covers with my hands over my ears. That’s it, that’s all I saw.”

“We both passed out pretty quickly,” continued Cory. “Madam Pomfrey said it was because we’re so young, and the dementor was nearly on top of us before we were found. But right before that happened, I heard someone shouting and I looked up. Someone was using this spell, and it drove the dementor back. I didn’t see the person’s face ... but they saved us.”

Nobody spoke for a long time, and then Leah remembered what Gwen had said earlier. “What was Masen doing in the forest; isn’t that forbidden?”

“Yeah,” Cory nodded. “That’s why I wanted to go after him. I have a theory �“”

“Which is ridiculous,” interrupted Gwen.

“I have a theory,” repeated Cory, “That Masen is really a Death Eater in disguise, and he went in there to, I don’t know, communicate with all of his Death Eater friends or something.”

“Cory, come on ...!” exclaimed Leah.

“Like I said �“ ridiculous,” snorted Gwen.

“Why would you think that, Cory?”

“Well, think about it �“ what other option is there? He’s cruel, although we know he acts really nicely and all towards the other teachers; he was nowhere to be seen the morning the sword was stolen; his eyes have changed colours multiple times, as if a glamour charm has worn off them; and he’s going into the forbidden forest alone at night. It’s obvious that he’s up to something.”

“That doesn’t mean that he’s a Death Eater,” said Leah. “I admit that some ... well, a lot of that stuff is strange, but you can’t go making assumptions �“”

Leah stopped speaking abruptly as the heavy hospital doors swung open again. McGonagall entered, accompanied on one side by Professor Thomas and on the other, by a tall red-haired man with burn scars covering his arms and neck.

“Dad!” Cory exclaimed, sitting up straighter in his bed.

“Cory!” the man with the burns called. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

The trio of adults approached, and Cory’s dad ruffled his son’s hair affectionately before resting a hand on his shoulder.

“You really are a Weasley through and through, aren’t you?” he muttered. “Any one of your aunt or uncles would’ve done the same ... just run off into the unknown. I’m just glad that you’re safe; you really scared your mother and me.”

“Sorry.” Cory hung his head.

“Minerva,” said Mr Weasley. “How did a dementor get onto the grounds? This school is supposed to be the most secured in all the Northern Hemisphere!”

“Charlie, I don’t know,” she replied. “But what I would like to know is what these two �“” She indicated Gwen and Cory. “�“ were doing by the front doors so close to curfew when they should have been in bed?” She stared sternly at them down her long, thin nose.

Cory looked to Leah, and then to Gwen, who just shrugged in answer. “We �“ we were ... we were following Masen,” he answered.

“Excuse me?” said McGonagall, her eyebrows arching up on her forehead dramatically.

“We saw him exiting the forest through the library window,” said Cory more forcefully. “Nobody’s supposed to be in there. It looked suspicious. He looked suspicious!”

“It’s true, Professor,” Gwen agreed hesitatingly. “He was rounding the lake by the time we saw him; dressed all in black like he wanted to blend in with the night; definitely coming from the forest.”

“We think he’s a Death Eater under glamour charms,” said Cory.

“Cory thinks that,” said Gwen. “But still, there is something just ... wrong with him. He’s cruel to all of the students, Cory in particular, and he �“”

“That is enough!” McGonagall shrieked suddenly. Her lips had thinned into a near-invisible crease and she gripped the metal railing of Gwen’s bed with a fatal force. “There are absolutely no D-Death Eaters in this school. How you could ever accuse someone of such a thing �“!”

“That is a serious allegation, Cory,” said Professor Thomas quietly. He had been so silent before that Leah had almost forgotten he was there.

“Professor Masen is a fine individual,” continued McGonagall. “Besides the fact that the war was over before you were even born, Mr Weasley, and you have no further proof other than that you think him cruel, he has never done anything to warrant such suggestions! Why, it was Professor Masen that cast the Patronus over you and Ms Seward last night, and at the risk of great expense to his own life!”

The words had barely left her mouth before the three children were exclaiming, “He what?” in protest.

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t strong enough to become fully corporeal,” said Cory’s father. “But he did manage to push it back to outside of the gates. If he hadn’t found you ...” He shuddered violently at the thought.

“What’s a Patronus?” asked Leah.

“The Patronus Charm is the only known defence against dementors,” said Mr Weasley. “It looks like a bright, white light and it can scare a dementor temporarily away. If it is cast properly, it will take the form of an animal that you may feel a strong attachment or connection to; if it’s weak, then it will only create a type of shield between you and the dementor, like Professor Masen’s did. It’s a difficult magic to master; not all witches and wizards are capable of it.”

“I believe it is time we allow these three to rest,” whispered McGonagall. Her voice was still unnaturally shaky. “Maybe in the morning, they will be able to think more clearly.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea, Minerva,” Mr Weasley said. “Cory, I’ll be among a group of old Order veterans stationed around the school for extra security, so if you ever need me ...”

“Thanks, Dad,” he murmured.

“Ms Andrews, curfew is in an hour,” said the Headmistress. “I will request the kitchen staff to bring up some dinner for you three here, but after that, I expect you back in your dormitory.”

“Of course, Ma’am,” agreed Leah.

When all the goodbyes were said and done, and the adults had left, the three children finally relaxed, breathing out sighs of relief as they met each others’ gazes across the beds. When food was brought up they picked at it silently, not talking, until Gwen said maybe a lifetime later, “So Leah, how was your holiday?”

“Nothing as exciting as yours,” she said with a smile. “No dark creatures or psychotic teachers ... but my dad did give me this.” She retrieved the letter that she had tucked away on the train and handed it to her. “It’s a letter that my mom wrote me when I was little �“ my dad found it in a box of her old things a few months ago.”

“Oh.” She moved to give it back but Leah shook her head.

“Read it �“ out loud. Go on.”

“Are you sure?” Gwen asked. But she carefully removed the letter from its envelope and smoothed it out so she could read the loopy handwriting.

“My Leah,” began Gwen, and then she paused, looking uncertain. Leah gestured for her to go on.

“You may be wondering why I am writing to you like this when I could tell you in person, but you’re still too young to understand, I think. One day you will need to know: you show all of the signs, just like my little brother at your age. And, I may not always be around to tell you for myself when the time finally comes, so that’s what this letter is for.

“I love your father, but he would understand even less than you, perhaps, and so I cannot tell him either, not yet. The truth is, Leah, that you are magical: a witch. Just like your Uncle Jesse was a wizard. And one day you will receive a letter explaining all of this to you too, but I want you to know, that you’re not alone in this family; it’s not just you. And I’m sure that you will love that world, Leah �“ one that I’ve only been privy to second hand �“ just like Jesse did. Every year he would leave for school in the States and come home with piles of unbelievable tales to tell.

“You never met your Uncle Jesse; he died long before you were born. Because, you see, while there is beauty and wonder and magic in that world, there is also more danger than anywhere else. More greed, more pride, more want. It was this danger that killed my brother in their wars, and I can only hope to warn you, before it devours you as well, because I cannot see an end to their fighting any time soon.

“When you join them, Leah, remember that you are not just theirs’, but ours’ too; you always have a second world to turn to when things become too much. Don’t forget.

“All of my love, Mom.”

Gwen slowly handed the letter back to her. “I �“ I don’t know what to say, Leah.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that was my first impression when I read it, too. It’s interesting �“ about my uncle, I mean �“ but ...”

“It’s not exactly important,” Cory finished softly, and Leah nodded again.

“You’re right, it’s not important. But that reminds me �“ I haven’t asked you guys yet about how the rest of your holidays went?” There was no need for her to explain any further.

"Not much better,” said Gwen, frowning. “Those books in the library were next to useless. They talked a lot about the war and Potter and You-Know-Who, but no speculations on where they might’ve gone: it’s as if everybody wanted to pretend none of it had ever happened. We made a whole list of those known not to have made it, and people whose bodies were never recovered. We even tried asking Hagrid, but he wouldn’t tell us anything. He kind of ... closed up ... when we mentioned the war, and then he kicked us out.”

“We’ll try again later, I’m certain that he knows something,” said Leah.

“But we do think we know where the snake came from,” said Cory. “It was Voldemort’s pet �“ Nagini, he called it. But we don’t know how it got here or who killed it.”

“And now you believe that Masen is a Death Eater,” she concluded. She could feel a headache coming on; the stresses of the day catching up to her.

“Yes.”

“I still don’t believe it, but I guess he could have had access to the snake, if that were the case,” suggested Gwen. “But it still doesn’t explain how the thing’s dead now.”

“Everything just got a whole lot more complicated, didn’t it?” sighed Leah, and neither of them could disagree.





The wind whipped menacingly deep within the woods, the night’s only sound. There were no signs of life other than him: any chirping of crickets, or rustling of woodland creatures. Tonight, the forest was dead.

He entered the clearing, and found the one he was to meet awaiting him, his black hood drawn up and shivering stupidly in the chilly air. He forced himself to reign in a sigh of frustration over the increasing incompetence of servants these days.

“T-the a-army is ready, my L-lord,” snivelled the man, falling to his knee in a low bow.

“Quit your stuttering, Collins,” he hissed impatiently. “Is the dementor back in its place?”

The man only trembled harder, but at least his voice was steady. “Yes, Sir. All safe and sound.”

“Good. And the men ...?”

“They �“ they are getting anxious, my Lord; eager for this to be done. I ... I have heard rumours �“”

“Which are?”

“Some of them ... well, you must understand, my Lord, that some of them do not see why we are here, staking out a school. We already have Hogwarts. And if you just wanted the boy, there are surely easier ways to do it, without focusing all of this manpower on it. You could’ve let the dementor have them, instead of maintaining appearances.”

“It was not ... completely me, who saved them,” he admitted, then whispered smoothly; calmly, “So, you agree with these men then, Collins?”

“No, Sir, of course not, Sir: I know you must have a reason!”

“Which I do,” he answered, “And the rest of you would do well to remember that; I shall deal with them later. But as for now, our plan is set �“ we will move in a matter of days. There are people in this filthy excuse of a hovel whose presence I will not stand much longer. You are to get the others ready for full combat, by the end of the week if possible.”

Collins nodded, still on his knee, and then his eyes jerked upwards and eyed the long, unkempt fringe of black hair peeping out from under his master’s hood. “A-and the other, my Lord? What about him?”

He smiled cruelly. “Oh, I’m going to make sure that he has a front row seat to this particular show.”

Chapter Nine
The Gamekeeper's Tale



Gwen and Cory were released from the hospital wing the next day, and things slowly started to resemble something closer to normal. Classes started again and Leah’s best friends seemed to have reached a kind of tentative truce over the night that they spent in hospital together, because their fighting, which had been ongoing for so long, had suddenly stopped. Leah could only hope that this lull lasted a little longer than the last.

Masen hadn’t spoken a word to them since before the holidays, especially not to confess that it had been he who’d saved Gwen and Cory’s lives from the dementor, and he seemed to prefer it that way. The three of them weren’t going to argue: no matter how grateful they were, he was still a terrifying man and they’d rather just stay clear of him.

McGonagall never brought up their conversation again either, and neither did Professor Thomas or Mr Weasley the few times that they saw Cory’s dad around the school. It was this sudden silence, more than anything, which convinced the three of them that it would have to be them to prove Masen’s crimes themselves.

So it was that they found themselves, two weekends after the dementor attack, trudging once more down to Hagrid’s hut for information. He had invited them to tea after hearing of what had happened, and they’d only too eagerly agreed to take him up on the offer.

“Do you really think you’ll be able to get any more out of him?” asked Cory as they walked. He looked resigned. Picking up a handful of white snow, he rolled it into a ball and lobbed it at a nearby tree, watching in satisfaction as it splattered against the bark. “Hagrid wouldn’t tell us anything.”

“I think that he just needs a push in the right direction,” Leah replied. She watched, amused, as Gwen produced an identical snowball to throw at Cory’s back.

“Yeah,” piped in Gwen sarcastically, “A push until he cracks.” Her snowball hit her target perfectly, and she ducked behind Leah as Cory spun around, already getting ready for a counterattack.

“Hey!” she cried. “Don’t get me involved in this!”

Cory and Gwen looked at each other, and then grinned, causing Leah to scowl. Maybe she did prefer them not speaking to each other; at least then she didn’t have to deal with the two of them ganging up on her. They were merciless when they were on the same team.

“Ah, come on, Leah ... what’s a little snow gonna hurt?” asked Cory sweetly. He held both hands concealed behind his back.

“Only you if you throw whatever that is you’re hiding at me, Cory Weasley.”

But Cory only smiled and shifted his eyes to a spot over her shoulder. Leah didn’t even have the chance to turn before a cold, icy mess was dribbling under her robes and down her neck. Gwen started laughing from behind her, her hands held up in a play of innocence, and then she darted away down the path to Hagrid’s hut, Cory close behind. And laughing as well, Leah bent down to collect her own handful of snow before running after them.

By the time they were knocking on the gamekeeper’s door, they were red and exhausted, and their clothes clung soaked against their skin. The half-giant took one look at them before pulling them inside and sitting them in front of a roaring fire as he set about preparing tea.

“Don’ think I want ter know what yeh three have been up ter,” Hagrid grumbled with a smile, fiddling with the kettle. “Up ter no good, I’m sure.”

“There’s a lot of snow outside,” was Leah’s response. Gwen giggled.

Hagrid let out a loud surprised laugh as he looked at them through small, beady black eyes. “Well, there’s never been anythin’ wrong with a good ol’ snowball fight, has there? I can’t tell yeh how happy it makes me ter see yeh bounce back so well after ... well, yeh know.” He nodded to Cory and Gwen.

“An’ yer not fightin’ no more,” he added approvingly. “Yeh should try an’ keep it tha’ way, eh?”

Their joyous mood evaporated with his words, but they nodded and agreed with him for his sake.

As he poured their tea he sniffled, as if trying to hold back tears; his eyes were suddenly very misty. “I still can’t believe it,” he exclaimed loudly, “a dementor, here, of all things! An’ under McGonagall’s watch!”

Nastily, Cory whispered, “Another gift of Masen’s, probably; I’d bet my broomstick on it.”

“I know yeh don’t like him, Cory �“”

“Hagrid, he’s a Death Eater!” Cory yelled, pounding his fists on the wooden table as he stood. Not wanting her friend to run again, Leah opened her mouth to say something �“ what, she had no clue �“ but seeing the expression on Cory’s apoplectic face, she hurriedly closed it again.

“He’s a Death Eater! I know it! Why won’t anybody listen to me?” Cory raged. He launched into his suspicions once more, but Leah didn’t think that Hagrid was listening. Not until he got to the part about Masen’s eyes, anyways. When Cory mentioned his eyes, Hagrid nearly fell out of his chair.

“W-what �“ I don’t ... no, it can’t be!” He assessed Cory for a long second and then he was sobbing, shedding enormous tears that dripped down his chin and splashed onto the floor. Fang whined and started to lick at the forming puddles. And the three of them watched on in horror as he fell apart right before their startled eyes.

“Hagrid ...!” Gwen gasped. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She stared hopelessly at Leah, scared like Leah had never seen her before. “Hagrid, I don’t understand.”

His whole body stiffened under her gentle touch, an immense feat considering his size; his trembling was like a mini earthquake. “I told yeh two b-before �“ if yeh can’t leave well enough alone, then get out! What g-good does it do ter talk ‘bout it? It’s in the past; it doesn’t concern yeh.”

“It does so concern us,” said Cory more gently. “It concerns us when Nagini is killed at our school; when it’s our lives that are at stake! Everything hasn’t been left in the past like you’d like to think, not when it’s still happening in the present.”

Hagrid looked up, shocked. “How do yeh three know ‘bout Nagini?”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out. The teachers around here really aren’t as sneaky they’d believe. Did you really think nobody would put the clues together about just who that snake belonged to?”

Hagrid moaned and hid his huge, shaggy face behind his hands, mumbling incoherently.

“You know something, don’t you, Hagrid?” observed Leah, watching him closely. “You know something about the war that you’ve been hiding all this time. I’m right, aren’t I?” She knew this with a conviction that took her breath away. She had suspected before ... but now there was no doubt in her mind that it was the truth.

Silently, Leah’s hand joined Gwen’s on the half-giant’s shoulder. “Why did you never tell anybody?” she soothed. “If it’s important ... then maybe somebody could’ve helped.”

“Yeh don’t understand!” he cried as the tears coursed down and through his scraggly grey beard. “N’body would’ve! It’s why I never told n’body what I saw that day!”

“What did you see, Hagrid?” said Cory, reclaiming his seat. “What day?”

“I had to protect ‘im!” he howled miserably. “They would never’ve understood! I never understood but I had ter �“ I promised meself I would protect ‘im!”

“What did you see?” asked Leah. “It’s all right, you can tell us.”

“No,” he whimpered mournfully. “I don’t �“”

“Hagrid �“”

“It was always ter protect him,” he pleaded, relenting. Despite his protests, he seemed to want to tell them what he knew.

“One year ter the day after the first battle o’ Hogwarts,” he whispered, “we were there again �“ but it was different this time ... harder. H-Harry was gone ... dis’ppeared, and then lovely G-Ginny, jus’ six months later. A lot o’ people died before, but it was nothin’, nothin’ compared ter this. Was slaughter, that’s what it was, jus’ useless slaughter. An’ there were b-bodies everywhere �“ an’ b-blood. An’ �“ an’...

The sun hid that day. It hid from the approaching rain, and it hid from the war. It ducked behind the storm clouds that shifted through the grey sky, skipping between them as it saw fit �“ ashamed maybe, of what it was witnessing.

Hagrid could see fire in the near distance. It’s the Quidditch pitch, he thought in the next moment; the Quidditch pitch burning.

Harry would’ve hated that.

He shook his head angrily. This was no time to get lost in Harry, like he always did. This was war. And he had to fight. That was all he could allow himself to think about: to fight.

Steeling himself, he gripped the handle of his pink umbrella tightly in his hand until he heard the tender wood creaking beneath his fingers. He needed a shot, just one perfect shot at one of these monsters, and then he could move on to the next, take them down one after another. From his cover under the trees of the forest, he looked left to right, scanning for somewhere that he could help.

And he found it: over by the Whomping Willow where a tall, cloaked figure was leaning over a smaller blonde girl. The girl was sprawled on the ground, her leg bent in a funny way, and her eyes were closed peacefully as if in acceptance of her fate. The Death Eater had his wand pointed to her heart and was jeering at her. Hagrid felt his blood boil beneath his skin just watching it.

Before he could think his actions through, he charged towards them, bashing into the Death Eater and taking him to the ground. In his fury, he forgot about magic, forgot about everything else, and focused solely on inflicting as much hurt as he possibly could with his bare fists. He had recognized the girl �“ recognized kind Luna Lovegood �“ and he couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t.

The Death Eater’s face was a bloody mess beneath him, and he just kept pounding the murderer harder and harder, even after he finally felt the man’s jaw shatter and his nose crunch. He had stopped squirming long ago, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Hagrid,” a weak voice called; he barely heard it over the pounding in his own ears. “Hagrid, stop.”

Luna’s voice was a balm. When Hagrid raised his head, she was trying to prop herself up using both of her arms for support; he left the man and rushed to her side.

“I think he’s dead,” she said calmly. She looked down at her broken leg. “But I don’t think I can fight anymore, Hagrid.”

“It’s all right, Luna, we’ll get yeh ter the hospital wing. Yeh’ll be fine. Madam Pomfrey’ll fix yeh right up.”

He picked her up in his arms, careful not to jostle her too much. But one look in the direction of the castle and he knew he could never get her there without the both of them being killed. The closest shelter was the greenhouses, and so he carried her over to them when he was sure the coast was clear.

“Hagrid?” a deeper, male voice yelled behind him. Charlie Weasley was running towards them at top speed, his long hair held back in a ponytail that was streaming behind him. “Is that old Xeno’s girl? Is she hurt?”

“Jus’ a broken leg. She’ll be okay.”

He nodded. “I can take her with me if you want? I’ve already got Katie Bell and one of the Patil girls, and we’re going to Pomfrey together; she has a tent set up by Hogsmeade for the wounded.”

“That’d be great, Charlie,” said Hagrid, and he transferred Luna into the younger man’s muscular arms. “How’re things lookin’ over there?”

He shook his head grimly. “Not good. They’re too strong, not listening to reason. It’s ten times worse than last time; we won’t hold them back for long.”

“They have been listening to the Fwoopers’ song,” sang Luna dreamily.

Charlie blinked at her in confusion for a minute. “Huh?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Anyways ... I should probably get going then. Stay out of trouble, okay Hagrid?”

“Yeh too, Charlie. Take care o’ her, an’ the others, o’ course.”

“You know I will,” he said. He glanced quickly to each side and then ran towards the path leading to Hogsmeade. Hagrid watched as they disappeared, Luna’s golden hair flowing like a waterfall over the thick arms supporting her, until they were nothing more than a black speck far away and Hagrid was alone.

“You bastard! What have you done with him?”

Hagrid looked up. Several feet away he saw two people facing another hooded Death Eater. Even from this distance, Hagrid could see the bright red hair of the male and the bushy brown hair of the female standing together. Ron. And Hermione.

No.

He couldn’t lose them, too.

The cloaked figure flicked his wand and suddenly, Ron was writhing on the ground, biting his lip so hard he was drawing blood. Hermione was screaming. The Death Eater lifted the curse after only a second, but Ron just lay on the ground for a long moment, trembling.

He stood up slowly. Now the Death Eater was talking ... just talking. His wand was still pointed at Ron and Hermione, but it seemed more for show than anything else. Hagrid stood rooted to the ground, unable to do anything in the numb haze of horror that was surrounding him.

He could only hear snippets of their confrontation now. All was cold and numb and the world was tilting, spinning round and round in front of him. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t understand what they were saying. He couldn’t help at all.

“I see you understand ... brightest witch of your age.” Cold, it was so cold. He could feel nothing else.

“What are you ... what does it mean?”

“�“ assuming he’s still alive.”

“And now, Harry ... protected me all year. This whole thing couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d planned it myself.”

“HARRY!”

“Harry? Harry, if you can hear me �“ we are so sorry.”

What? Harry? But they were talking about him as if he were still alive; like he was standing right next to them! No, that was impossible. Harry had been dead for a year! Hagrid had hardly gotten used to the idea. But then, who was the Death Eater? Did he know where Harry was �“ if he was still alive? Had he taken him?

Hagrid moved a bit closer until he could just make out the face on the Death Eater. He had taken off his hood �“ and it couldn’t be! It just couldn’t! The young man �“ still a boy, really �“ beneath it had round wire-trimmed spectacles on his face; his head was covered in long, uncontrollably shaggy black hair; and on his forehead, was an old, unmistakeable lightning-bolt scar.

Hagrid gripped the side of the greenhouse, sure that he would collapse to the ground if he didn’t. He knew that what he had seen would haunt him until his dying day. And then, before Hagrid could even draw breath enough to shout Harry’s name, there were two identical flashes of green light and Ron and Hermione lay dead at their best friend’s feet.

“Nex’ thing I remembered was wakin’ up in St. Mungo’s,” Hagrid finished hollowly. “I was hit by no less than a dozen stunners at once. They all said I should’ve been dead too, but yeh see, it was me giant’s blood that saved me. I have tougher skin, and everythin’ else, than a normal person. Any human would’ve been killed on the spot. But not me … I’ve ‘ad ter watch that day again in me head every night since.”

“So you’re … you’re saying, that Harry Potter is alive?” breathed Cory. They were all in a state of shock after hearing Hagrid’s story.

“Not jus’.” His tears had finally stopped, but a haunted look had replaced them. “I dunno how he’s doin’ it, but somehow, You-Know-Who’s been controllin’ him … turned him in ter somethin’ bad like him. Because the Harry I knew would’ve never done that stuff if he ‘ad any choice. An’ now, teh only thing left ter do is protect his secret till he figures a way out o’ it.”

“What if he can’t, Hagrid?” said Leah. “What if somebody else has to find a way?”

He shook his head sadly. “Yeh still don’ get it. Some would try ter help, I’m sure o’ that, but others would only see him as a threat �“ the next Dark Lord, You-Know-Who’s successor. They would want ter only destroy him,” he said, “an’ I won’ allow that.”

“Oh, Hagrid,” Leah whispered.

Now he leaned towards the three of them, and never had he looked so serious to them, or quite so deadly. “Yeh won’ tell anybody, will yeh? Yeh won’ say anythin’? Yeh can’!”

“No,” Gwen said. “We won’t tell anybody.”





We have to tell somebody!” exclaimed Gwen later as they were running back up to the castle after saying goodbye to Hagrid.

“But Gwen, you just said �“”

“I know what I said, Genius,” she snapped, glaring at Cory. “But I only said it to cheer him up. Of course we’re going to tell them!”

“Who though?” asked Leah.

“Well, Professor McGonagall for one. I think she should to know.”

“Can we at least wait until tomorrow?” said Cory anxiously. “It’s getting kind of late ... supper will be starting.”

“Cory, I think that this is a tad more important than food!”

“And what, dare I ask, would that be, Ms Seward?”

Gwen, Leah and Cory stopped in their tracks. Professor Masen had just stepped out of the Great Hall, a smirk gracing his thin lips as he stared down at them. He waited patiently for their answer.

“N-n-nothing, Sir.”

“Very well then.” His eyes flitted to Cory before they drifted over to Leah and rested there. “Andrews, I would like to speak to you in my office before you leave. It is a matter of great importance.”

She could feel Gwen and Cory drawing closer to her on each side. Somebody’s fingers made a fist around a bunch of her robes at her back. “What about, Sir?”

“My office ... now,” replied Masen shortly. Any faint hints of former pleasantness were gone. “I’m sure your friends wouldn’t mind saving you a seat at dinner.” Without another word he turned on his heel, not even glancing back to see if Leah was following.

“Don’t go,” Gwen whispered. It was her hand holding Leah. “Come on. Let’s get McGonagall, tell her what Hagrid told us. She’ll know what to do.”

“I hate agreeing with Gwen,” said Cory, “But this time she’s right. Leah, you don’t have to go with him.”

Taking a deep breath, she murmured, “Just wait in the Great Hall. If dinner is over before I’m back, wait for me in the common room. If I’m still gone another ten minutes after that then go to McGonagall. I’m going to see what he wants; it could be nothing.” And she hurried away before they could stop her.

Professor Masen was waiting for her when she arrived. He stepped towards her, pinning her against the wall as soon as she stepped through the door. His voice was low and cautious as he spoke. “What do you know?”

“What?” said Leah, surprised. She hoped he didn’t mean what she thought he did.

“I know you’ve been speaking with him about me,” Masen hissed. “I don’t know what that bumbling half-breed knows, but I know that he knows something. And he told you and your little friends what it was just now, didn’t he?”

Leah wished she had listened to Gwen and Cory when they’d begged her not to go, that she’d never dared to come here alone. She had thought stupidly that Masen wouldn’t harm her as long as there was a chance he’d get caught. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she rasped. “Hagrid didn’t tell us anything; we just had tea!”

“An awfully long tea, wasn’t it? No, he told you something. I know it. So tell me what it was right now!”

“Nothing!” cried Leah. “Nothing, he said nothing! Please, Professor Masen, you’re choking me!”

He let go, seeming to want nothing more than to tear her limb from limb, and started to pace across the length of the office floor. His black hair stuck up in every direction and his face had a crazy, deranged look to it.

“You will tell me what I want to know, girl. You will tell me what he knows about me!” When she still resisted, he snarled, “Fine. It’s nothing a little memory charm won’t fix anyways.”

He grabbed at her again and started to drag her away from the door, which she had slowly started to inch towards. Desperately, Leah tried to remember the little self-defence her dad had insisted she learn when she was younger. But it was unnecessary, because suddenly Masen groaned, let go of her and hit at his forehead with both hands. He stumbled backwards, still hitting his forehead, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“NO!” he shrieked. “NOT YET! GET BACK IN THERE, YOU ARROGANT FOOL!”

“P-professor Masen �“?”

“YOU STUPID CHILD, YOU WILL OBEY YOUR MASTER IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR �“!”

His screams stopped just as abruptly as they had begun. He fell to his knees, still groaning, both hands clutching at either side of his head.

After a long moment of silence where neither of them moved, Leah tentatively took one step forward. When he still hadn’t moved, she took another. She was about to take a third step when, slowly, Masen raised his head and stood up. He opened his eyes and looked straight at her.

Cory had been right. His eyes were green.

Chapter Ten
We Build Then We Break



Harry Potter still remembered what it felt like to lose to Voldemort even now, twelve years later. He’d had a horrible childhood �“ his happiness and his family stolen away before he could yet hold them in his memory, forced to grow up alongside people who’d never wanted him �“ but losing to Voldemort, all the while surviving �“ well, kind of �“ and knowing with a sickening, gut-wrenching feeling what would happen to everything he loved under his rule had beat all of that. Had hurt him in a manner that neither the Dursleys, nor anything else had done before. Witnessing as his friends were forced to surrender, believing him to be dead, and then to be murdered as thoughtlessly and carelessly as if they were only insignificant little bugs in return, made him want to be physically sick.

But Voldemort thought of sickness as he did weakness and love; something horrendous and not worth his time. And so, Harry withheld the urge (it wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter; back then Voldemort still had an immense hold on Harry and Harry couldn’t have done anything Voldemort didn’t want him to do, no matter how hard he fought). He felt like Quirrel, only much, much worse, because at least Quirrel still had control over his own actions. Harry was no more than a voice inside their shared mind, his body just a host, a Horcrux in which his captor hid from death.

The first year with Voldemort inside of him had been the worst by far. He had fought and cried and prayed, as Voldemort just mocked his efforts, to no avail nor gain. Voldemort found pleasure in his pain, and in his worst moments, Harry wondered where God had gone: why was Harry left to drown in this overflowing torture, to die in the agony of having to sit back and watch as Voldemort regained his strength? Hadn’t he already sacrificed enough? Harry lost faith in any higher power within a month.

And then, six months after the first Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort had kidnapped Ginny �“ his precious Ginny �“ and locked her in a cage like an animal. He’d made them keep their hood up as he threw the Cruciatus Curse at her again and again and demanded to know where Potter was, as if he didn’t know! And she pleaded and begged and cried, all the while insisting that Voldemort must have killed him, because she certainly didn’t know where he was. And only after many hours of this, he finally made Harry draw down their hood. His eyes changed to their dead green, his mouth trembled, and before he could say anything, could tell Ginny to kill him then run …

She had whispered, “Harry?”

Voldemort then addressed Harry in his mind, his voice on the verge of laughter. “Would you like to speak with her, dear Harry? I daresay you may have some explaining to do.”

As if in a dream, a terrible dream, Harry felt himself pulled forward. He tried to explain, to make her understand, but all he could manage was to croak her name in a dry, cracked voice so unrecognizable from the one she’d remember. Voldemort pulled him back inside easily, effortlessly, and then he couldn’t stop himself.

“No, no, Harry, please! How could you, Harry?”

He felt his right arm, his wand arm rise in slow motion. He tried to pull it down, but after so long he knew it’d do no good. He was just a pawn in Voldemort’s twisted game.

“Harry, how could you? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?”

“Avada Kedavra.” And just as quickly as she’d seen and known him, she was swallowed up by the deadly green light.

Gradually over the years following that horrific day Harry had become not used to, but almost … desensitized to Voldemort’s cruelty. Oh, he was still evil, and Harry still felt that sick twinge in his stomach whenever he had to watch it put to use; but while it hurt no less than before, it became slightly easier to bear. And after all, there is only so much wickedness that a purely good person can take before he starts to crack too.

The following decade passed by in a blur. After the second battle, where he got only a handful of words with Ron and Hermione before Voldemort murdered them as well, Hogwarts was transformed into his own Death Eater recruiting ground and the last bit of Harry’s world was taken away forever. Gone were the four house colours, and gone was the merriment, the diversity, and the tolerance. Now, green and silver sufficed for all students and they were all in the mind of which Voldemort liked most: young and fragile, easy to manipulate. During this period Harry grew stronger too, one agonising miniscule amount at a time, until he was able to push that small conscious part of himself to the forefront of his mind again for a few small hours. When he was in control, Harry searched for a way out, a way to win, but he never found anything, not for many years.

And then, one day in the Restricted section of Hogwarts’ library with only thirty minutes remaining before he would be forced to give up for another day, he stumbled across an ancient text with an even more ancient theory. Finally … after nearly ten years … he had something that may work, may save everyone he had let down!

A dementor could literally suck a person’s soul from their body. He, Harry, had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him. What had Hermione told him so many years ago �“ that a Horcrux could not survive without its container, its enchanted body, intact? Then that would mean that if he could remove Voldemort from his mind, suck the soul out of his body ... he would then have enough control over his mind to kill himself and in the process, destroy the soul’s container. And if he could get to the snake ... then all of the Horcruxes would be gone! Voldemort would be defeated!

But how would he control a dementor, when the vast majority of the time he could not even control himself?

Voldemort discovered his plan eventually, as he was apt to do what with the entirety of Harry’s broken mind at his disposal. To say that he was furious would be an insult to Harry’s new daring; Voldemort was completely livid. He would have killed Harry willingly right then and there, but when had that desire ever come easily to him? He could not kill Harry without endangering himself: he needed his body to evade endless eternity as the wraith he truly was. If he wished to stay in power, he must stay in the one thing that was holding him to the Earth.

Harry sometimes thought that the only reason Voldemort decided to take them both to Canada was in punishment for this betrayal. Or maybe he’d been planning it longer, and Harry had only now realized. But whatever it was, there was something personal in that journey, something other than just intended torture for him that he had not fully realized until he met Cory Weasley.

And, despite the pleasing fact that he actually had a plan, Harry still had long ago given up on his dream of ever seeing it happen. So now, finding himself standing before the young, terrified girl whose broomstick he had once made lose control for the chance she and her friends would meet Hagrid, in a country far away from his own home, Harry didn’t dare to hope. He forced himself to the front of their mind, slowly shoving Voldemort back as he did, and removed the black glamour from his eyes before looking up. By the widening of her eyes he knew she’d seen; but she also had no way of knowing what it meant. Still, he had to try.

By telling the girl, he could buy time for the light side to prepare. Voldemort would agonize for weeks, if not months, over his contingency plans. For all of his fondness in bragging, he was even fonder of pomp and ceremony, practically revelled in it, and he would want everything to be perfect on the day when he finally took Cory Weasley.

His voice hoarse and scratchy but not a trace of Voldemort in it for the time being, Harry said, “Look at me, girl. Look at me.”

The girl obeyed, dumbfounded.

“It’s Andrews, right? Leah Andrews?” She nodded. “Listen to me, Leah. Everything is not what it seems. Do you recognize me �“ do you know who I am?”

The girl shook her head slowly, trembling where she stood.

“My name is Harry Potter. Does that name mean anything to you?” he asked, growing more and more desperate as each second passed.

She nodded again, looking doubtful.

“Do you need more proof?” he prodded gently.

He watched as her eyes slowly flitted up in the direction of his forehead, probably searching for the scar that was even more famous than his name. He removed the glamour on that too and watched as some deep knowledge sparked to life in her mind. “Now do you know me?”

She nodded again.

“Good. Listen to me �“ you must get McGonagall, or Thomas, but preferably McGonagall. You have to tell them who I am. Do you understand?”

Harry could feel himself slowly slipping away, his mind being compressed and pushed, forced to retreat, to hide some more. His time was running out.

“You �“ you tell them,” he struggled as he tried to hold Voldemort back as long as he could, “tell them that Voldemort has po-possessed me �“ that I’m the last Horcrux. Dumbledore’s plan was for us to destroy all of the Horcruxes. V-Voldemort unintentionally turned me into one, too, as a baby; I had to die for him to die. But he didn’t kill it! Are you listening? He didn’t kill it!”

The girl was too stunned to agree. Harry put a forceful hand on her shoulder and steered her out the door before Voldemort could find out what he’d done any sooner than was necessary. He released her and she ran down the corridor without a backwards glance, and Harry watched until she rounded a corner and he felt his tentative control leave him. It was all up to her now; he hoped she could do it; hoped that they would believe her. All he had now was her.





Leah ran, stumbling, down the winding hallways. Hot tears escaped her eyes and blinded her, forcing her to nearly fall and slam into the countless crowds of people blocking her path. She ran to the common room, hoping that Gwen and Cory were both there. She didn’t know that she could manage it if she didn’t have them beside her.

“Hungarian Horntail!” she screamed at the statue of Dumbledore that guarded the entrance to Talos Tower. She didn’t even wait for him to move fully out of the way before she squeezed her way through. “Cory! Gwen!” she called frantically into the seemingly empty room.

She had missed them on her first scan of the room, but as soon as she said their names, two familiar heads popped into view over the back of the sofa. “Leah?” said Gwen.

“Leah?” Cory echoed, standing up and moving slowly towards her. “Leah, are you okay?”

She shook her head frantically. The words to tell them what she had just seen were stuck stubbornly down her throat.

Cory saw her wet cheeks, her rumpled hair, and immediately drew his wand as his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What did he do?”

“It ... it ... it was h-him.”

“Leah, who?”

“Him!” she cried.

“Masen?” asked Gwen. “We know you were with him. Leah, you’re not making any sense.”

“No!” said Leah. “I mean �“ yes, it was Masen, at least at first �“ but then he changed, and he was ... he was Harry Potter! He was Masen and then he was Potter!”

Cory lowered his wand a fraction. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know! But it’s true, I swear!” She hastily relayed what had taken place in Masen’s office, her voice breaking and cracking after every other word. By the time she was done, Cory and Gwen were speechless too. “What are we going to do?” she finished. Nobody spoke for a long time.

“We find McGonagall,” answered Cory unevenly into the silence. “And we help him.”

“And what about what Hagrid said?” said Leah through her tears. “About how the others will want to hurt him, or d-d-destroy him.”

Gwen shook her head; she was crying too. “We won’t let them.”

“Come on, let’s go,” said Cory. He stood by the statue hole and waited for them to climb through before he followed after them.

They weren’t even halfway down the hall before Gwen asked, “Does anyone actually know where McGonagall’s office is?”

“I don’t,” whispered Leah. Cory shook his head dejectedly. Gwen moaned and threw her hands up into the air.

Just then, Professor Thomas came into view ahead of them. He nodded his head in greeting and gave a little wave. As one, Cory and Gwen turned to Leah with the question in their eyes; they wanted her to take the lead on this. She nodded and ran up to him, the others behind her. “Professor Thomas!”

“Kids?” he answered as they advanced. “What can I do for you?”

“We need to go see Professor McGonagall. Right now. It’s important.”

“I’m afraid she’s rather busy,” he said. “Surely one of the other teachers �“?”

“No!” yelled Cory. “It has to be her, Sir.”

“But it doesn’t, Cory,” whispered Gwen suddenly. “He said that Leah could tell Thomas, too!”

“But McGonagall might have a better idea of what to do,” said Leah worriedly. She didn’t want to involve any more innocent people than was necessary. “I’d rather it be her.”

“What are you three talking about?” asked Thomas. “If you really need to see the headmistress now, I’ll take you. Is everything all right?”

“No, it isn’t,” said Leah. “Please,” she begged, “Let’s just go.”

With a curious look, Thomas led the way. He walked for ten minutes before turning down a final corridor and they came upon a dead end made of light stone bricks. Leah opened her mouth to ask where he’d taken them, but he just placed his open hand flat against one stone that was slightly larger than the rest and pressed against it. The whole wall slid away to reveal a tall, spindle staircase, up which Thomas started to climb until he reached the door at the top.

Soft voices were coming from the other side of the door, and Thomas knocked loudly. The voices stopped and someone shouted, “Come in!” as the door opened all by itself.

Professor McGonagall and Mr Weasley, Cory’s father, were seated around an ornate wooden desk. Portraits of sleeping wizards covered many of the available surfaces and at least six bookcases full of heavy-looking volumes lined the walls. Both of them stared at the small group that entered silently.

“Cory?” said Mr Weasley.

“Children ...? Mr Thomas ...? What can I do for you tonight?”

Thomas indicated Leah, Gwen and Cory. “These three have something they wish to discuss with you, I think, Professor.”

She nodded quickly. “Fine. Thank you, Mr Thomas. Mr Weasley, if you would please excuse us, we’ll continue where we left off tomorrow.”

Again, Gwen and Cory looked expectantly to Leah. “Actually ... we would like to speak with all of you,” she added hesitantly, “If that’s okay.”

Mr Weasley retook his seat and McGonagall simply raised her eyebrows, motioning for them to all take seats as well. The seriousness of the situation must have been evident upon their faces, for McGonagall replied without argument, “Of course.”

“What’s this about?” asked Mr Weasley when they were still silent.

“We know who Masen is,” stated Cory. There was an air of smug certainness underlying the words.

Immediately, the adults’ shoulders stiffened; McGonagall sighed angrily, Thomas looked exasperated, and Mr Weasley just frowned. “Cory,” he said, “Masen is nobody other than himself. He’s no Death Eater, he’s not in league with Voldemort, and he is definitely not, as you said before, ‘up to something’. You have to realize that.”

“He’s not a Death Eater,” agreed Leah, smiling. “He’s Harry Potter.”

They did not receive the reaction she had expected at hearing this. Were they not happy at the news? Their long-dead friend was alive! And she hadn’t even mentioned the bad part yet.

“That’s impossible,” breathed Thomas.

“Ludicrous,” agreed McGonagall in a shrill voice. “Why on earth would you say something like that?”

“We’re not lying!” Gwen shouted. “Merlin, Cory was right about all of you! Why won’t you listen to us? We wouldn’t make something like this up! How could we? You’re all just so happy to continue playing your roles as brave little �“”

“Ms Seward! You will quit that foolish tone this instant!” McGonagall stood up, both hands clenching into fists on top of her desk. “You talk about being heard ... ask for respect ... but until you learn how to give some in return, we’ll continue to treat you as the children that you are! You come in here spouting off nonsense about Potter being alive, after over a decade ... how do you expect people to react?”

“Kids,” said Thomas more reasonably, “I don’t know why you think what you do, but the headmistress is right, it is impossible. You forget that we knew Harry quite well, and if he were alive today, he would not have hid for twelve years while You-Know-Who was still out there hurting people and he could have stopped it.”

“And besides,” added Mr Weasley, “I thought you were all under the impression that your teacher was a Death Eater.”

“I’m sorry Professors. I’m sorry Mr Weasley,” Leah whispered. This moment was not going like she’d pictured it; she needed them to trust her. “But, you see, we know where You-Know-Who is too.”

“So we were wrong about the Death Eater thing,” said Gwen, “in a way. Sue us. But we’re not wrong about this.”

“Masen is both of them �“ Harry Potter and You-Know-Who,” said Leah. “You-Know-Who is possessing Harry Potter's body and he’s been using glamour charms to change his appearance. I know, because I’ve talked to him. I was with Masen in his office just now, and in the middle of interrogating me about Hagrid, he grabbed at his head, like he had a really bad headache, you know? When he looked up again, I saw that his eyes were green, and then he told me who he was. I think that the first Masen was You-Know-Who, but the second was definitely Potter. Please, you have to believe us.”

“When he’s angry, the charm on his eyes falls away, and you can tell that the irises are red,” Cory interjected. “But one boy even says he saw them turn green as well.”

“And there’s another covering the scar on his forehead,” said Leah, “the one that looks like a lightning bolt. He took it off and showed me.”

Gwen added, “He told Leah that he’s Voldemort’s last Horcrux. Those were his exact words. And during the first battle of Hogwarts, he had to die for it to die, but Dumbledore’s plan didn’t work and the Horcrux, whatever that is, survived.”

All three of the adults stared wide-eyed at them as they finished their tale. McGonagall’s mouth opened and closed for a few seconds before she murmured, “How could you possibly know all of that?”

Mr Weasley gazed out the window, looking lost. “Ron and Hermione said that the snake was the last one. I never even told my wife about them. The only way for you three to know about the Horcruxes would be for �“”

Leah sighed in relief. “It’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” she said.

“Did you ever consider that this could all just be a ploy, a trick to make you think Harry was alive in order to lure you into danger?” asked Thomas. He frowned; but he looked like he wanted to believe them, wanted to badly.

“But I don’t think that it is. You didn’t see him; you didn’t see how desperate he was.”

“Would it be all right, Leah,” said McGonagall quietly, “For us to view your memory of this event? It wouldn’t hurt you, but it may help us.”

Leah turned to Cory and Gwen. They nodded only slightly, but it was enough. If this was what it took ... then she would do it. She would do everything. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” She stood up again, holding her wand, and walked slowly over to Leah until she stood just in front of her. “Now, I’m just going to hold my wand to your temple ... like this ... and I want you to think of the memory, remember every detail like you were back there again. Then ...” She drew her wand away and Leah saw, dangling from the end, a thin silver wisp that fluttered with the light winter breeze coming in through the window.

“Is that ...?” she gasped.

“Your memory of what you just described, yes,” replied McGonagall. “We will view it in a pensieve and then we can examine it fully.”

“Wow.”

She retrieved a shallow stone basin from a cupboard and set it on the desk, depositing Leah’s memory inside where it swirled on the bottom in its own tiny puddle. One by one, the adults gathered around the pensieve. “We won’t be long,” said Mr Weasley. He briefly patted Cory on the back before he bent down, stuck his nose in the silver fluid, and disappeared. McGonagall and Thomas followed.

They weren’t gone more than a few minutes and when they returned, emerging from the basin like an assembly of ghosts, the expressions upon their faces were unreadable.

“Do you believe us now?” asked Cory.

“Honestly,” his father answered, “I don’t think we know what to believe.”

“If it’s ... if it’s really Harry ...” Thomas said shakily.

McGonagall walked over to another cupboard and carefully extracted a box filled with small glass vials, each of them filled with more silver memories like Leah’s, which was still sitting in the pensieve. “These memories belonged to Dumbledore,” she explained. “They’re ones he collected before his death, all labelled with the subjects involved and the date that they occurred. He left them to me, but I ... I could never view them. Now, I think the time has finally come.”

“Many of these are labelled T. Riddle,” Thomas whispered in surprise. “A lot are Dumbledore’s, too, and there’s Snape ... Slughorn ... many people who I’ve never heard of before, but the majority of these memories concern Voldemort.”

McGonagall nodded. “Albus spent a lot of time piecing together Voldemort’s life and how he came to be what he is. If anyone could have predicted this, it would have been him.”

“Do you really think that Masen is Harry Potter?” asked Leah hopefully. “That You-Know-Who is inside his mind and has been all this time?”

“I cannot say,” said the Headmistress sadly. “The three of us,” She indicated Professor Thomas and Mr Weasley beside her, “Will examine these memories together. Maybe Albus knew something, maybe he didn’t, but he left them to me for a reason. And if it’s true ...” Her voice shook. “If it really is Potter ... I don’t know what we’ll do. What we can do. But I will find out the truth. That, I can promise you.”

“Give us some time,” said Mr Weasley softly, “And we’ll let you know when we've come to a decision.”

“Oh, and Ms Andrews,” McGonagall called just before Leah, Gwen and Cory slipped out the door, “Does Hagrid really know anything about this, like Masen thinks?”

Leah turned around. “That’s his story to tell.”

“Then we shall talk to him as well,” she replied, and they left.

Chapter Eleven
The Beginning of the End



Weeks passed. Winter turned into spring, and spring was well under way before anything changed again.

They were all in a state of limbo now: Leah and her friends; McGonagall, Thomas and Mr Weasley; and Masen. They floated around each other, passed each other in the halls, saw each other in class, but nobody actually acknowledged what everybody all ready knew. Masen �“ Leah couldn’t quite bring herself to think of him as either Potter or You-Know-Who just yet �“ seemed to be waiting for them to make the first move, playing cautious, and that was strange in its own right.

On the other hand, McGonagall, Thomas, and Mr Weasley ran around the school like madmen from January through to March. They skipped their own classes, and Transfiguration and Charms had never before seen such a large rotation of substitute teachers in all their years. They left meals early. And there were several occasions in which Leah spotted them shut away in deserted classrooms and corners of the school grounds talking in hushed tones with Hagrid or to other Order members.

She wanted to talk to them ... but she didn’t know how. Harry Potter had been their friend, their student; and she didn’t have much right in pushing them to get a move on when they could be the ones who would save him.

“You just do it,” Gwen told her one day several months after the conversation in McGonagall’s office as they sat high up in the spectator stands of the Quidditch Pitch, watching as Athos and Chiron battled it out for the snitch down below.

Was it that simple, though? Her friends seemed to think so, but Leah wasn’t as sure.

“We’ll go talk to them after the game,” said Cory.

And they had. While the cheering crowd waved their banners and threw yellow confetti into the air in support of Athos’s win, Leah, Gwen and Cory fought against the mass of bodies to catch up with McGonagall and Thomas as the two professors left the stadium.

They must have anticipated the trio’s question as soon as they saw them approach, for neither of the adults slowed down in the slightest as McGonagall said tightly, “We do not know how to help him.”

“We’ll let you know,” Thomas called over his retreating shoulder.

“They won’t though, will they?” Leah had murmured quietly, standing in the melting snow. She watched them leave, hating herself more than a little for feeling so useless.

“Nope,” answered Gwen, “I doubt it.”

It was not the last time they tried for information, far from it in fact. But each time after, they received even less than before, until soon enough they stopped asking all together and could almost believe, deep down, that everything was really okay.





“Who do you think he is today?”

Leah looked up from her notes on the Full Body Bind curse. The rest of the class was still scratching away with their quills, with Masen pacing impatiently in front of them, but Cory was looking at her and Gwen with not even a single word scrawled upon his parchment.

“Cory, be quiet!” Gwen hissed. She glanced furtively at the professor, ducking her head quickly when his black gaze swept across the room and met hers.

“He’s right there,” Leah agreed in a low whisper.

But Cory continued on as if he hadn’t heard. “I think he’s the ... bad one. He usually is.”

“Now really isn’t the time to get into this again.”

Just then, the bell rang to announce the end of class. “Although, it’s not like the other teachers are doing anything about it,” murmured Gwen. She began to shove her notes and writing supplies into her large canvas shoulder bag before picking it up and following Leah out the door, cautious of the professor’s eyes following them every step of the way.

“Should we try asking them again?”

“You can’t push adults,” she replied knowingly. “They’ll only clam up more because they think you can’t be patient. They won’t do anything. To them, the war ended a long time ago.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Leah sneaked a momentary look back over her shoulder toward the retreating classroom door. Students were still spilling from its depths in small groups. But when she looked toward her friends, she realized that something was wrong.

“Gwen ...” she asked slowly. “Where’s Cory?”

“He was right behind �“” She followed Leah’s gaze back down the hallway. “That’s weird. Where is he?”

“Do you think he’s still packing up at the table?”

“No. I could’ve sworn I saw ... well, he couldn’t have gone far!”

They both looked at each other at the same time, fear pooling in their guts. “You don’t think ...?” Gwen whispered at the exact moment that Leah said, “He wouldn’t ...”

“Masen!” they shouted, and they turned their backs and ran.

They were nearly halfway back to the classroom, having sprinted at a dead run, when a new voice filled the castle. High and cold, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, it seemed to bleed out of the very stone and mortar of the walls that were meant to keep it at bay.

“This is Lord Voldemort.”

Immediately, there was a shocked silence and then students everywhere started to scream. They covered their ears with the palms of their hands. Some stood frozen in place with fear; others ran chaotic circles around their friends. Their voices rose in a deafening crescendo until they could almost hope to drown out the interloper’s as well.

“This is Lord Voldemort,” the voice continued. It was the voice of Professor Masen; the voice of Harry Potter and You-Know-Who, excited and smug. “Too long I have let you, my adversaries, be. I have allowed you blood traitors and Muggle-lovers to squander away in secret, belittling yourselves, while the magical community should have stood together, known and united under a single leader. Too long, I have allowed this to go on.”

Leah and Gwen stopped running. Around them, teachers were beginning to shepherd the students into the Great Hall, shouting loudly as they tried to be heard over the increasing ruckus.

“But no more!” Voldemort cried triumphantly. “No longer! Together, we may still receive the honour that we as the superior race deserve!

“But I will not wait forever. Just outside your gates, my dementor and a few loyal followers are awaiting upon my word.” Here his voice dropped into a soothing, yet deadly, lilt. “I have taken Cory Weasley and I will not hesitate to harm him if you do not listen closely to me now.”

“Oh, god,” Leah said. Blindly, she reached for Gwen’s hand. She could feel the horror spread throughout her, from the top of her head to her toes.

“I do not wish for a bloodbath; only to have an audience with just one of you. Take this hour to evacuate your students and staff and when you are done, Charlie Weasley will meet with me in my office �“ I believe that you know to which I refer. You have evaded me for a long time �“ I applaud you for that �“ but I, too, wish for this game to finally be done. Harry Potter is alive and it is past time for him to see the rest of his precious Weasleys wiped right off the face of the earth. I repeat: Charlie Weasley ... my office ... in one hour.”

“Now what?” exclaimed Gwen. She was jittery, uneasy in her panic, and she let go of Leah’s sweaty hand only to flap hers erratically in the air at her side.

“Leah! Gwen!” Professor Thomas called. He was sprinting down the hall toward them, a determination clouding his eyes that was both mesmerizing and terrifying, and as he reached them, he grabbed both of them by their wrists and began to drag them in the direction of the rest of the student body. “Come on, to the Great Hall. Now. You have to go.”

“Wait! We can’t leave!” Leah cried, fighting against him. Beside her, Gwen was doing the same.

“He has Cory!” shrieked Gwen.

“And right now,” replied Professor Thomas impatiently, “the safest place for the two of you to be is away from here. Think, why don’t you? We are talking about Lord Voldemort, here. Cory wouldn’t want you to be hurt because of some misguided attempt at bravery!”

But all that Leah could think about was that Cory was their friend and he was in trouble ... if he was still �“ No. She couldn’t think like that, either. She wouldn’t. She needed to find a way to help so that the worst wouldn’t happen. They were almost to the Great Hall now; she could see the double doors swung open wide, everybody crowded inside. And then a thought came to her �“ a crazy thought, but if this wasn’t the time for crazy thoughts than she couldn’t imagine what was �“ and she jerked the three of them to an immediate stop and screamed: “We need to see McGonagall!”

“We do?” asked Gwen incredulously.

“Yes,” she said, “because I just remembered something.”





“What if I know a way that we can save Harry Potter?” Leah proclaimed as soon as everyone had taken their places around the Headmistress’ office.

McGonagall took in a deep sigh as if to rein back her frustration. “Excuse me?”

“To save Harry Potter,” she repeated breathlessly. “Because if we can save him, then we can save Cory, too.”

A deadly silence fell upon her audience. Leaning against the far wall beside one of the many bookcases, Professor Thomas crossed his arms against his chest. In one of the hard-backed wooden chairs that McGonagall had conjured upon their arrival to her office, Charlie Weasley ran a rough and calloused hand through his greying red hair.

Minerva McGonagall just sat up straighter behind her desk and Leah took that as an invitation for her to continue.

She wrung her hands nervously as she paced back and forth in the center of the room. Sucking in a deep breath, she held it for a long moment before she exhaled. And then she spoke, the words sputtering off of her tongue, and Leah couldn’t tell how much sense any �“ let alone all of them �“ made at all.

“What if it’s like the on-off switch on an electrical appliance?” she said, ignoring their perplexed stares.

Thomas looked ready to interrupt but McGonagall silenced him with a single, stern shake of her head. “Go on,” she said.

“If You-Know-Who had taken over Harry’s soul completely,” Leah continued, “then I don’t think that he would be able to be him for any amount of time. I think that then Harry and You-Know-Who would be one, would be the same person. Does that make sense?”

“But you don’t think that he has,” interjected McGonagall curiously.

“No,” Leah said. “Because we know that sometimes, Harry can be in control too, right?”

“But what does this have to do with Muggle electricity?”

“Because something has to be there to flip the switch,” she explained, her voice rising in her excitement. “Sometimes it’s You-Know-Who that’s turned on, and sometimes it’s Harry. But if Harry is able to be in control sometimes, then they are obviously not one. Inside that body, there have to be two souls fighting each other: both of theirs at the same time. Only ... I think ... Harry being the one in control is a bit rare, because something has to allow the change, like a switch, so for the most part it’s stuck to You-Know-Who. So, if this is true, than couldn’t we permanently switch You-Know-Who off and Harry Potter on, and save Cory at the same time?”

“I see where you’re coming from, Miss Andrews, but what you’re suggesting is �“”

“What? Don’t you want them back �“ either of them?” she shouted. Hot, angry tears escaped and made a beeline straight down her cheeks. "What if it was possible, if there was even the slightest chance?”

Then Mr Weasley stepped forward, his face struggling to remain blank. “Never think that we don’t want it, girls, because we do. We care about Harry more than you can imagine. But think practically �“ what if it caused more harm than good and we only made the situation worse for him?”

“Hasn’t he paid long enough?” whispered Gwen. “Isn’t he worth the chance?”

McGonagall, Thomas, and Mr Weasley all shared a calculating look.

“He is,” sighed Professor Thomas finally from his corner. “And these past few months we have examined Dumbledore’s memories thoroughly, searching for what we missed in the past so that we may fix it; and frankly, some of them were ... disturbing, to say the least.”

“After the first battle,” said McGonagall reluctantly, “I was briefly able to re-enter my office and retrieve the pensieve and the memories that Dumbledore had left behind. However, I noticed that sometime between the last time I’d seen it and the end of the fight, somebody had been in to use it. The pensieve was set out on the desk and there were still memories inside of it. I didn’t have much time though, and so I quickly put the memories into an unlabeled vial, took them, and left. I’d never looked at them and had nearly forgotten about them entirely until our last conversation in here.”

“What we are about to tell you is highly classified information,” said Mr Weasley sternly. His blue eyes locked on to theirs. “No one outside this room knows about it, and it should stay that way.”

“These memories belonged to a person called Severus Snape: an Order spy throughout the war and previous Potions Master and headmaster of Hogwarts. We thought he had turned traitor, too �“ he was the one who murdered Albus Dumbledore,” said Thomas.

“Turns out he’d been on our side all along.” Mr Weasley grimaced, shaking his head.

“It is unclear for whom these memories were intended,” continued McGonagall. “Although we have reasonable proof to believe that they were for Harry to see. They detailed Professor Snape’s childhood and his growing love for Lily Evans, Harry’s mother, and his motives for his actions in the war. There was one particular part ...” She took out the stone pensieve once more and set it on her desk. A silver memory was already inside. With a single tap to it with her wand, it stirred, and two smoky figures emerged, hovering over the top of the basin, in the midst of what appeared to be a heated argument.

"For Nagini?” said the first man. He had shoulder length greasy black hair and a long, hooked nose.

The second man was unmistakably Albus Dumbledore. He appeared exactly like the stone statue that guarded the entrance to the common room, in perfect detail, right down to his snowy white beard and twinkling eyes.

“Precisely,” said the memory-Dumbledore. “If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him, under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry.”

“Tell him what?”

“Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself on to the only living soul left in that collapsing building. Part of Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort’s mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to, and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die.

“So the boy ... the boy must die?”

“And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential.”

The figures shivered and disappeared. McGonagall tapped her wand again, and another fragment of the past rose up above them. “There is also this.”

“Lord Voldemort’s soul, maimed as it is, cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry’s,” said Dumbledore. “Like a tongue on frozen steel, like flesh in flame.”

McGonagall sat back down. Her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “We believe that Harry watched this and then willingly walked to what he thought would be his ... death.”

“In the forest,” whispered Leah.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But Albus was only theorizing when he thought that that would kill the piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him. Knowing Harry, he would have gone to the Forbidden Forest to meet Lord Voldemort during the battle, meaning to make it one step easier for somebody else to defeat him later. Neville Longbottom, a friend of Harry’s, said that he saw Harry walking toward the forest just before he disappeared. We talked to Hagrid, and know that he too saw Harry alive, one year after his disappearance. So then if Voldemort attempted to kill Harry in the forest like he was meant to, instead of Harry dying, the curse may have rebounded again like it did nearly seventeen years before, destroying Voldemort’s body and causing what remained of his soul to once more attach itself to Harry’s.”

“The pain must be excruciating,” added Thomas grimly. “There is so much more of Voldemort’s soul in Harry now than before; there must be enough to somehow ... override ... what remains of Harry’s so that instead of remaining mostly dormant, it is almost like he is truly being possessed.”

“What can be done?” murmured Gwen.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But if there is a way to make this right, than we have to find it. We owe it to him.” He looked around the room as if daring anybody to contradict him.

The headmistress remained silent. Leah, Gwen and the other two adults waited for her acceptance. Her lips visibly thinned and her brow creased; her eyes were both silently worried and determined. “How?” she whispered.

“A dementor,” said Leah.

And now they all turned to face her, and she felt warm blood rush to her cheeks. They were all sharing similar looks of shock and disgust, but she had thought this through over the past weeks, and she wasn't going to back down now. Besides, they didn’t have the luxury of time anymore to second guess.

“We use a dementor,” Leah repeated firmly. “Precisely, You-Know-Who’s dementor. They suck a person’s soul from their body, right? We know that You-Know-Who’s soul is the dominant one, so I think it’s safe to say that it’ll come out first. So we trap them and the dementor together with a strong patronus, and wait until all of You-Know-Who’s soul is safely out, then somebody separates the two souls, or captures the one, or whatever it is you have to do to make sure that only Harry’s soul can return after the dementor is gone.”

Professor Thomas looked thoughtful. “You know, that actually could work. It’d be extremely risky �“ we don’t exactly know the extent of what we’re dealing with here �“ but I can’t see any other choice.” He smiled at Leah. “You are a very bright witch, Leah Andrews.”

Leah smiled too, although it was more like a forced grimace than anything else. “I just think that if his place were switched with one of you, he would do everything in his power to change that.”

“Indeed he would,” said McGonagall softly. “Indeed he would.”

“This is all very nice and all,” said Mr Weasley loudly all of a sudden, standing up. He had stayed silent through most of the explanations until now and the burn scars on his face and arms stood out in stark contrast against his tanned skin. “But we’re running out of time.” He gestured at the clock hanging from the wall. It was all ready ten minutes to the hour.

“Try for a bit of patience, Charlie, please,” McGonagall said as she rose to face him. “We cannot just leap into action. We must strategize; formulate a mode of attack that will not end with a body count.”

His eyes flared and his shoulders tensed. “Do not tell me to be patient!” he roared. “That is my son out there, Minerva! My son! And I will not sit back and twiddle my thumbs while he hurts him! I’ll kill him, right now if I have to, before I let that happen.”

He went to draw his wand, probably thinking he’d blast his way out of the office if they made him. But Professor Thomas just placed himself calmly between McGonagall and Mr Weasley, both of his palms facing out and said, “Stop. Stop! Nobody is suggesting you do anything of the sort, Charlie, but if you go out there unprepared you could get both you and Cory killed, and I know that’s not what you want.”

Mr Weasley glared at his opposition for a few more minutes and then backed away silently. Thomas nodded his approval. And McGonagall rolled her eyes, pursed her lips, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “rash Weasleys, the lot of them,” before she turned back to Leah and Gwen who stood leaning against one wall, watching anxiously, forgotten for the moment in all of the confusion.

“Right.” She clapped her hands once and approached them. “Miss Andrews and Miss Seward, to the Great Hall as fast as you can, you should have left long ago. The three of us will come up with ... something and then make our way to the Defence classroom, together. Charlie, you will not have to go there alone. Come on.” She pushed Leah and Gwen out the door. Her voice shook ever so slightly. “Hurry! It’ll be no good for the two of you to be any more involved in this than you all ready are.”





Leah and Gwen raced down the stairs that lead to McGonagall’s office, through the secret entrance in the brick wall, and emerged out into the deserted second floor corridor at a dead run.

“We’re not seriously going to leave, are we?” huffed Gwen on Leah’s right. Her breaths were coming in short gasps and she clutched at her ribs below her breast where an ache had begun to form.

“What else we can do!” shouted Leah in answer. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but if you have a better idea than feel free to let me know.”

“How about not abandoning Cory to the evil maniac that has him on a hit list, for one?”

“We’re not abandoning him,” said Leah, pushing her rising doubt back as far as she could make it go. “Just ... leaving him in more experienced hands... I think.”

Gwen resigned herself to a scoff and ran even faster.

They skidded around a corner, almost losing their balance upon the slippery floor. They were only able to remain upright because of the strong arm which caught them as they started to fall.

When they looked up it was not to find Masen’s small black eyes, but Voldemort’s red-tinted ones staring down at them. Not Masen’s pale, bony face, but one with a stronger jaw and hollow cheeks and a pink lightning bolt scar on his forehead. And when they tried to scream, it was not Masen’s skeletal fingers, but rougher, more calloused hands, which clamped themselves tightly over Leah and Gwen’s open mouths.

Chapter Twelve
In Fate’s Hands

Charlie Weasley flew through the wide front doors and down the stairs toward the huge blue dome situated across the school grounds. His red hair whipped across his face, blood pounded in his ears, and his heart beat ecstatically; but he didn’t care. All he could see, all he could hear, were his son’s tearful cries as the body of Harry Potter pulled him out of his father’s arms. Beside him, and just as frantic as he was, Professor McGonagall and Dean Thomas ran too, their eyes focused on the task at hand.

Charlie could not remember a time in his life when he had ever been more terrified than he was now. He had felt nothing close to this panic when he was six years old and had gotten lost in the ministry while visiting his father; he remembered how he had spent nearly three hours weaving between giant’s legs, making turn after turn down identical corridors, only getting more impossibly lost as he went along, until finally, his father had spotted him sitting quite desolately on the edge of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He had never been this scared even throughout the long years of the war, even as he watched his closest family and friends murdered one after another. He had never felt close to this. But, when possibly facing the loss of one of his children … the agony was impossible. At this moment, he thought that he finally understood how his parents had felt twelve years ago when the first of their own sons had died.

As he kept getting closer to him, his last painful memory of his eldest son, imbedded now eternally in his mind, played in his head. A twelve-year-older Harry Potter, his eyes remarkably bloody red, grabbing Cory from his grip as they had stood in a standoff in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom; Leah and Gwen already unconscious on the floor; his son screaming as his dead uncle’s best friend jabbed a wand into his throat before Disapparating with all three of the children at once. He could still hear the high, cold projection of Voldemort’s voice emitting from Harry’s mouth. He heard, as clear and real as it had been not thirty minutes before, the shrill voice announcing that he was going to kill Cory because it would hurt the last remaining Weasleys, and what hurt the Weasleys would destroy Harry. Harry … who was still trapped and alive after all this time …

These horrible thoughts only spurred Charlie on to run faster. It was late �“ the sun already gone to warm another place �“ and the waning moon hung, a silent observer, in the dark sky. Ahead, he still saw Voldemort’s immense bubble-shield, encasing Cory and his two best friends within its circle. He saw their tiny shadows lying beneath it and McGonagall and Thomas must have too because all at once, as if by the guide of some silent signal, the three of them pulled out their wands as they continued to draw near.

And Voldemort guarded the bubble, facing towards it and away from them. His attention was drawn away from the direction which they approached by and so, presumably, he did not know they had arrived. They watched him pace in front of his cage, only feet behind him now.

McGonagall had her wand directed toward the middle of Voldemort’s back, “It’s over now, Tom,” she declared.

Tom Riddle turned to face them. His snake-like features �“ only a flicker of a shadow on Harry’s thin face but there all the same �“ held no show of fear or surprise at the appearance of the three before him. “I knew you could not stay away,” he replied.

Behind him, a slight movement in the bubble caught Charlie’s attention and he breathed quietly in relief. They were still alive, thank Merlin.

McGonagall spoke again, her voice fighting to remain calm. “Let the children go, Tom.” Her wand pointed straight at his heart. “Or we will make you.”

But Riddle just laughed coldly and his ruby eyes glowed in the dark with sick amusement. “And why would I do that, now?” he said. “I have waited … so long, for this moment. It would be a shame for it to end so soon, and without any reward on my part.”

“Have you enjoyed yourself?” Charlie heard himself say. His mind and his actions seemed to be somehow detached. A thin fog had settled over his judgement. “Have you found fun in torturing innocent children? And all for what... vengeance? Power ...?”

Voldemort smiled wickedly. “Indeed, it has been quite amusing.” He stopped his pacing and stood facing them head-on. He twirled his wand casually between two fingers.

“So, you have finally found out my little secret, have you?” he mused. “How many hints did you need? Two; Three; a dozen? It took these young ones,” He spared a cursory glance over his shoulder to the children in the bubble, “much less time to see that there was something ... not quite right, with their professor. And yet, when they voiced their concerns, you ignored them, even though the reality has been right before you the entire year.

“So what have you come out here for?” he asked, his voice rising. “You would not dare to kill me �“ none of you are the prophesized one and that scares you; I can see you trembling even now as you stand. And you do not want to harm dear Harry’s body, as you don’t know whether or not he can still be saved. So, I ask you again, what do you think you can do?”

“You are not indestructible,” whispered Dean.

Voldemort chuckled, and Charlie shuddered to see such evil come out of Harry’s mouth. “And you think that the three of you are the ones capable of doing it, of destroying me? It was said that Harry Potter would have the power to do it … and look at where that has gotten him.”

“But we know now what we only thought we did then,” said Dean bravely. “We know everything.”

“We know what really happened twelve years ago,” McGonagall said. “You had two Horcruxes left, the snake and Harry, as well as whatever part of you resided within yourself. Dumbledore thought that if you killed Harry then the part of your soul inside of him would be destroyed, leaving Harry’s soul purely his own again and allowing him the chance to finish you once and for all.”

“But things didn’t work out as planned, did they?” said Charlie. “Everyone who died in place of Harry, for the chance that you could be defeated, acted like a shield against you when you cast the Killing Curse at him. Just like when he was an infant, and his mother sacrificed her life for him, he was protected from you by their loyalty, and you couldn’t hurt him anymore.”

“And that protection not only saved Harry,” Dean finished grimly, “but also spared the piece of your soul within him. So when your body was destroyed again, the part of you that was your conscious mind attached itself to the part of you already inside of him, doubling your hold over him; and that is why you have so easily possessed him since then. Harry was already vulnerable after so much death that day, and he stood no chance with that against him too.”

“And neither do you!” Voldemort cried. “You have nothing on me, any of you! I am the most powerful wizard in the world!”

“This is where you go wrong every time, Voldemort. The most powerful wizard would not be a coward, willing to do anything to escape death … he would’ve known that death was just the next great adventure. He would not have underestimated the power of �“”

“The power of what, Weasley �“ love?” he sneered. “Dumbledore’s age-old antidote for everything? Love is for the weak, the blind.” Voldemort started pacing back and forth again, agitated at their lack of ability to understand.

“Exactly,” said McGonagall. “Love and beauty, friendship and loyalty; they all have a capability which you cannot fathom, simply because you think that you don’t need them. For if you had understood them, then you never would have killed; you never would have done all that you have.”

But the man before them could not see. He was blinded by his own refusal; he who, never loved, could himself never learn how to love in return. Preoccupied and angry, he didn’t realize what the three before him were doing before it was too late, and even then, he didn’t believe he had anything to worry about. He was Lord Voldemort, after all, Master of Death.

Charlie and Dean raised their wands toward him just like McGonagall had done. Charlie started counting down, whispering, “One …”

“Two …” Dean answered at his side.

“Three …” McGonagall finished.

And together, they shouted their best hope to the heavens, and each of them prayed. It was time to put Leah Andrew’s plan to the test.

Dean’s spell shot out first, a sparkling white stream from the tip of his wand. It looked like a miniature Milky Way as it soared towards the man. It flew right into him, spreading through every part of him while the red-eyed fiend shrieked in fiery agony …

McGonagall’s wand let out a purple spell, which escaped over the heads of the four people and the large bubble-dome, hitting the iron lock on the huge front gates to the grounds of Kootenay Academy of Magic. The locks and the invisible wards shattered, the gate swung open wide, and a ghastly black-hooded form separated itself from the waiting army and drifted across the lawn. Voldemort seemed to freeze in terror and the dementor, that had previously so obediently awaited his bidding, swooped down upon its own master …

And last, Charlie drew all of his best, proudest memories to the forefront of his mind, letting them fill him up, warming him from the inside out: his wedding day and the births of all four of his children. They burned behind his retinas, sticking there, so he wouldn’t lose sight of them. A thought flickered in his head in the moment: that, all through the danger and disaster in his past, after the demise of his entire family, he had still managed to be happy and to live … a luxury that had grown increasingly rare for a lot of people in the last decade. With that encouragement, spurred on by hope, he cried out, “Expecto Patronum!” He watched in awe as the great silver dragon emerged from his wand and flew over and around Voldemort, stopping the dementor from veering off its course.

Their jobs done for now, Charlie, McGonagall and Dean all watched the spectacle unfolding before them. The dementor had now slipped its hood off of its head, revealing the ugly black near-nothingness that was underneath, where its face should have been. A hole like a mouth opened in the dark cloud as the dementor prepared for its meal.

And now, the body of Harry Potter with the eyes of Lord Voldemort was glowing, a shimmering white around the edges that reflected exquisitely from the faint shine of the moon above. Dean’s protection spell had taken effect. He collapsed onto the ground and the dementor knelt over him, tipping the head back to gain better access. As the dementor performed the infamous kiss of its kind, the joined souls of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort began to rise into the air and right into the monster’s gaping mouth.

It was a sight unlike anything Charlie had ever seen the likes of. His dragon continued in its slow graceful arc around them, protecting but also imprisoning. But this sight was not even comparable to what was happening in the space between Voldemort and the dementor: in the arc’s centre, the dementor hovered over its prey, slowly lifting the soul out of the body. Like it was being forced by a magnetic pull, a soul of two distinct colours had appeared, pulled tautly between the two; half of it black, and the other pure, miraculous white. Voldemort’s coal black soul had attached itself to Harry’s, leaving his intact, sharing space inside of the host instead of taking it over completely.

When the division between the two souls had neared the dementor’s mouth, McGonagall aimed her wand at the spot and said, “Diffindo.” A streak of light exited her wand, passing through Charlie’s patronus on its way, and sliced the souls at the exact place where they joined. The black soul was quickly swallowed by the dementor, allowing Harry’s to fall back into his body. Charlie banished the patronus and the dementor, pleased with its feast, backed away.

There was a long beat of silence. Charlie, McGonagall and Dean stared, stunned, at the place where Harry lay slumped on the grass. Unnoticed for the moment, the dementor floated a couple of feet away, waiting; none of them saw as it started to shudder and shake uncontrollably.

A feeling of overwhelming relief and happiness stole over Charlie right then. It was over. Harry was saved, the Dark Lord was gone for good, and his son and his friends would all live. It was an almost blissful feeling, too good to actually be true. He could not move, he was frozen where he stood, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then it did, alarmingly, as some noise became audible to the group. There was a hacking sound coming from the dementor; it looked as if it was choking. The three adults turned to the creature. It was shaking and heaving, its mouth opening, and then the recently ingested soul was coming out, forming in the air into the shape of a tall, thin, bald man with a snake-like face.

Nobody saw coming, or even registered what befell next until it was all over, and even then, they weren’t sure if they believed it. There was a stirring on the ground, a body sitting up and supporting itself on its elbows, raising a wand that had fallen beside him when the dementor had performed the kiss. Harry directed the wand at the vision of Lord Voldemort, whose old body was fuzzy and wavering about the edges, and Voldemort did the same. Charlie wondered how a spell could affect something that wasn’t really alive, but evidently, Harry hadn’t thought of that.

“Avada Kedavra,” spat Voldemort as he towered over his worst enemy.

“Priori Incantato!” cried Harry.

The two spells �“ one green and the other red �“ sped at each other at top speed, both very real, and met in mid-air. Harry and Voldemort clutched desperately at their wands, which had started vibrating violently, as a thin beam of golden light connected the two of them. Then that thread splintered and a thousand thinner golden threads diverged from it, arching high over the joined wands. Soon, they were encased in a shimmering, dome-shaped cage not unlike the one in which the children were still secured.

And then �“ Charlie could scarcely believe his ears �“ the most beautiful, enchanting noise filled the night, and it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The beam between them changed again: the spells were fighting each other, first heading for Harry, then for Voldemort, in some kind of exotic, melodious dance. And, as if all of this weren’t enough for a lifetime, something even stranger happened, and Charlie blinked furiously many times trying to convince his mind that this was real.

Shadowy forms were slowly emerging from Voldemort’s wand, one by one, pulling out from the tip and arranging themselves in a large protective circle around Harry. They were in the shape of people, some that Charlie didn’t recognize, but even more that he had only ever dreamed he would see again. There were men and women of varying ages and even a couple of children, and they all faced the incorporeal Voldemort like an army of ghosts. There was his mom and dad, most of his siblings, and Hermione. Some of the younger guards looked no older than Hogwarts students. He saw old professors and many, too many, old friends. But standing in the front, the most surreal of them all, stood two people holding hands, as if daring Voldemort to try and hurt their son one more time: James and Lily Potter.

As Charlie watched, the shadowy forms lifted their wands towards their opponent, who recoiled in fear. A young girl still in her teens with long, flowing hair turned around, however, and reached one translucent hand down to Harry, who sat up in wonder. Her hand gently skimmed his face, cupping his cheek, running over his scar, and she whispered softly to him, “It’s all right, Harry. You know what you have to do. We can buy you some time, but you have to break the connection. At just the right time, break the connection.”

“Ginny …” Harry sobbed.

“It will be all right, love. You’re almost done,” she replied, and her voice turned grim. “I know what really happened now, that day. I’m so sorry that I ever doubted you. I never really believed it, I couldn’t, but I should have realized the truth sooner on my own.”

“Ginny.” He reached for her, but his hand just slipped through her, and he cried out in anguish.

Ginny turned to her last remaining brother and beseeched to him, “Help him, Charlie. You have to look after him for us now,” and all Charlie could do was nod in silent agreement.

Then she turned away and took her place in the crowd of Harry’s dead loved ones, holding her wand out at Voldemort. “You bastard,” snarled Ginny, “I hate you! I hate you, I hate you!” A jet of light shot out from her wand right into Voldemort’s chest.

Lily Potter screeched from beside her husband, “How could you? He was a child! Just a child! You’re a monster!” A similar stream of light exited her wand and hit him too.

James, much calmer than his wife, but his wand hand shaking all the same as his own jet of light entered Voldemort, said, “It is time for you to pay for all your wrongs.”

The rest of the ghostly sentinels all exclaimed similar sentiments, light shooting out of their wands and entering Voldemort, who all the while was shrieking in pain. The light kept entering him, until he seemed to be almost glowing from it. Harry gazed longingly at the group of people surrounding him and then pulled his wand away so that the golden beam finally snapped, and Voldemort’s Killing Curse was striking Harry in the chest. As Harry collapsed, lifeless, onto the cool grass, Voldemort screamed a final time and dissolved into the air; a second later, nothing may have ever been there at all, as the ones who had come out of Voldemort’s wand disappeared.

Whatever it was that had held Charlie, Dean and McGonagall back before broke in that instant. Voldemort’s bubble-shield burst with a pop and Charlie rushed towards his son crying, “Cory! Cory!”

After a minute, McGonagall ordered quietly, “Charlie, take the children up to the castle. Madam Pomfrey will look after them from there.” Charlie conjured three stretchers and lifted the kids onto them, charming each so that they floated ahead of him. With a strained look over his shoulder to where Harry’s body lay on the ground, he followed them across the lawn to the castle doors.

“And Professor Thomas,” she looked to her right where the Charms teacher stood. “Come help me with Mr Potter over here.”





Harry wasn’t breathing, Dean could see that immediately. He dropped to the dewy ground beside McGonagall, the wetness from the grass soaking through his trousers to his knees. The headmistress, Dean was shocked to see, was trying in vain to hide the tears building in her eyes, and Dean found himself fighting his own back too.

“Minerva, he was hit with the Killing Curse. There’s nothing we can do.”

The normally stern and composed woman shook her head furiously. Wisps of her gray hair had fallen loose of her tight bun and they got across her eyes, forcing her to shove them away impatiently. “No, no …” she murmured, “he’s going to be just fine.”

Dean was losing his patience. “He’s dead!” he nearly screamed at her, panicked, though he was sure she still couldn’t grasp his meaning. “He’s dead and he’s not coming back!”

“He has survived it before!” she snapped back, glaring murderously at him. Then gentler, “He will be all right.”

“Well then, what do you propose we do?”

She didn’t say anything, but she leaned over Harry’s body and started pumping his chest with her hands over where his heart lay. She parted his lips and blew into his lungs, breathing for him. After a few seconds she pumped his heart again, but it was no use, his chest refused to rise.

Dean thought that she had gone quite mad; he’d never seen her like this before and he had a feeling that if it was anyone but Harry, she would be a tad bit more rational right now. He wondered also how she knew how to do Muggle CPR, but decided that there was time for questions later.

“Come on, Potter,” McGonagall growled low in her throat. She gave him a couple of more breaths and pulled back.

Dean joined in, just as desperate, pushing her out of the way so that he could force Harry’s chest to move harder and faster. “Come on, Harry, you can do it,” he panted. “Don’t give up now.”

They continued on like that for several more minutes: McGonagall and Dean taking turns breathing for Harry and both of them futilely encouraging him. Finally, after what seemed like hours, McGonagall leaned away to give her lungs a break. The moon was suspended high in the sky, a few lights shone from the castle windows behind them, and the stars twinkled in their black blanket above. The two teachers sat back, hope fading, the victory of earlier feeling pointless, and trying to figure out if the efforts from the past years had been worth it if it was only destined to end like this. Behind them, the bell in the topmost tower of the school tolled �“ once, twice, a dozen times it sang. There was a single, heavy gasp beneath them and they both started. And as the hour hand announced the beginning of a new day, Harry Potter finally breathed.





The hospital wing was oddly eerie later that night when Leah poked her head inside the door. It was as if all of the pain and confusion of these last few months had been gathered up, like they were a physical entity �“ something she could easily reach out and touch �“ and let free to roam in this tiny room. She had been discharged after a quick once-over by the school nurse and sent off to bed almost at once, but Cory and Gwen had been forced into staying overnight: Gwen, with a minor concussion from falling on the hard ground, and Cory while his broken leg, the work of Professor Masen, healed.

But it wasn’t really Masen, she corrected herself immediately; it had been You-Know-Who possessing Harry Potter’s body, constantly keeping up the disguise of a strict professor through glamour charms and allusions. Leah looked around the hospital wing, searching for her friends. On the farthest bed away from her was the curled up shadow of Mr Potter, asleep, his body compressed as he subconsciously sought relief from his pain. But Leah wasn’t here for The Boy Who Lived now. On a couple of beds closer along the wall laid Cory and Gwen, sleeping serenely, both with slight smiles on their closed lips.

She tiptoed carefully to the chair between their two beds, sitting gingerly upon it, being cautious not to wake them. She sighed. They were her best friends, and she could not have lost them. The thought alone of what could have happened …

Images played in her mind on a constant loop, each making her sicker than the last: Voldemort grabbing her and Gwen and throwing them on to the hard office floor beside Cory; Cory, clutching his leg as it stuck out at an unnatural angle. Fighting; crying; and then Voldemort waving his wand ... and nothing, until she was waking up in her own bed in the hospital wing, a million people crowded around her.

“Miss Andrews,” sounded a familiar voice suddenly from behind her and Leah jumped, startled, and turned around only to find Headmistress McGonagall, her lips pressed into a thin line, staring at her. “It is well past time you got yourself a watch, don’t you think?” she demanded. “You were released several hours ago.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Leah murmured, ducking her chin as her cheeks blushed rouge. “I mean, s-sorry Ma’am. I just wanted to see �“ to make sure they were okay …”

The headmistress’s eyes softened marginally and she gazed sympathetically down at Leah before glancing over to the man in the far bed and then back again. The headmistress was displaying more emotion in front of her now than Leah had ever seen in her before, and she knew, without a doubt, that it was because of this lost and found hero right here. “I quite understand, child, believe me, I do. But there are visiting hours for a reason.”

Leah didn’t think it wise to point out that she was here after hours just as much as Leah was but, she supposed, being the Head of a magic school gave you some privileges over the students.

“I know,” she replied instead, standing up slowly. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Good girl. Off to bed with you, then.”

Leah sneaked a last look at Cory and Gwen’s peaceful faces before turning on her heel and preparing to leave.

“Oh, and Miss Andrews?” called McGonagall again. Her gaze remained fixed on Harry’s slumbering form. “Thank you.”

Leah nodded before letting the door snap closed behind her. She leaned back against the brick wall beside it and at that moment her carefully held composure finally broke: she collapsed onto the cold stone floor, sobbing until her eyes burned red, her throat was scratchy, and her stomach ached in protest.

Chapter Thirteen
Aftermath

Much later, Minerva McGonagall was still in the hospital wing. She hovered over Harry, her face a blank mask, as she smoothed his long hair back to reveal the jagged lightning bolt scar that remained vivid red against his chalky pale skin.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Harry,” she whispered in a maternal tone, fixing his covers and fluffing his pillow absentmindedly.

“That would be a nice change,” answered a new voice from the door. She turned around and Dean Thomas slumped into the room, his shoulders hunched and his fists shoved deep into the pockets of his Muggle-style jeans. His eyes never strayed far from Harry as he approached the headmistress.

“I guess none of us are sleeping well tonight,” was her reply.

“Where’s Charlie?” asked Dean. “I would’ve thought he’d be up here too.”

“He is currently bringing Ms Lovegood and Ms Chang up to pace on the events of last night. He was here earlier.”

“Right. Of course.” He paused. “Do you want to know what’s funny about all of this?”

McGonagall stiffened and sniffed irritably. “I cannot imagine what you could possibly find amusing about this situation, Mr Thomas.”

“Oh come on, Minerva, we’re colleagues now. After all these years, surely you can call me Dean.” He smirked. She only thinned her lips in response, so he back-tracked hurriedly. “Not ‘ha-ha’ funny; I meant ironically funny.

“His entire life,” he said, “since he was born and that damn prophecy was made, Harry has always been the hero and symbol for the Wizarding world. His life has always been dictated by ‘kill or be killed’, and I don’t think that anyone actually thought the latter was really a possibility. Everyone knew he would manage it in the end, it just didn’t happen at the time or in the way any of us expected.”

“And twelve years too late,” she added.

A soft snort came from the bed beside them. “You can say that again.”

The two teachers’ heads snapped up at the same moment and immediately turned towards their old friend. “Harry!” Dean cried as he rushed to the head of the bed so that he was at eye level with his former roommate, who was now attempting to sit up and staring at them with hooded eyes, while McGonagall poured him a glass of cool water from the pitcher beside his bed.

“Potter, drink this.” She lifted the cup to his lips and he sipped at it gingerly.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“How do you feel, Harry?” asked Dean nervously.

“Like I’ve just been on the receiving end of a stampeding herd of Hippogriffs,” he grimaced.

Dean chuckled tersely as he sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s to be expected, I say, considering you’ve just had a Dark Lord’s soul sucked out of you.”

Harry’s face instantly crumpled in pain, the quick change of disposition alarming. He tried to take another sip of water, but his hand was shaking so violently that the water just spilled down the front of his pyjama shirt. McGonagall shot a hard glare at Dean for his tactlessness while Harry’s attention was diverted.

“Scourgify,” McGonagall muttered, and the wetness siphoned easily off the flannel.

Dean was studying Harry intently. He looked pointedly at Harry’s jittering hands and then caught the gaze of Harry’s deadened green eyes; Dean felt an intense protectiveness wash over him at the sight. “Are you really all right, Harry?” he questioned.

At first, Harry said nothing, just stared into Dean’s open face, and Dean got the sensation that he was being tested in a sort. Finally, however, he uttered a quiet and ashamed, “No.”

“Well, how could you be?” exclaimed McGonagall. “It is no wonder after all you have been through.”

“Harry,” said Dean slowly. “What do you remember?”

“Of the last twelve years? Too much,” was his weak reply. “How … how did you know what to do?”

“Leah Andrews �“ you know, Cory’s friend? She figured it out. She’s a smart one, that girl. Came up with the Dementor thing all by herself, too. They realized that the snake was Voldemort’s without anyone telling them, and they became suspicious when they saw your eyes change colour.

“Which reminds me,” said Dean. “How did you know what to do?”

“I guess I’ve just had a long time to think about it.” But his eyes shifted uncomfortably away from them to stare at the white hospital wall.

“Then why did you not just come to us, Harry?” sighed McGonagall. “We may have been able to help you even earlier. You couldn’t have possibly thought that you could do it �“ free yourself of him �“ on your own?”

“No,” he answered sadly. “No ... I know I couldn’t have, but would you have believed me if I told you?” He laughed hoarsely; the rough cadence of his voice cut like shards of broken glass between them. “I knew that I had to go to some kind of extreme for you to even begin to believe me. But then Hagrid didn’t know or suspect as much as I’d hoped, and I tried to tell you when I killed Nagini, but Voldemort was fighting so hard that day that I had to stop before I could finish.”

“The blood on the wall ... the letters ... We thought it was meant to be a laugh, somebody’s idea of a sick joke,” Dean mused, shaking his head in awe.

Harry nodded. “I tried to spell my name but I ran out of time; I only managed the first two letters.”

“What else did you try?”

Now, Harry scrubbed his hands over his tired face and through his thick matted hair, before looking down at his covered legs ashamedly. “I knew that he was going to go after Cory. I knew I had to do something ... but I was quickly running out of preferable options, and time. I arranged for them to run into Hagrid; even if he didn’t know enough he could at least make them suspicious about me �“ him ... us.”

“They turned out to be quite the little detectives,” said McGonagall with a disapproving sniff and the hint of an indulgent smile on her lips. “Just like a different trio I used to know.”

“And thank Merlin for that,” Dean added.

“I just didn’t know what to do!” said Harry, looking up at them, begging for them to understand. “And even if I found a way to use his Dementor against him, I didn’t even know how to get to that point! Voldemort was becoming angrier as each month passed, and once he started threatening Leah Andrews, I knew that what I was doing would never be enough, so then I forced myself to the front of my mind for a moment and told her everything. I was past the point of caring if anybody believed me �“ as long as the doubt was there.

“And she behaved exactly as I hoped she would. And, fortunately, so did Voldemort.”

“What do you mean by fortunately?” asked McGonagall crossly.

“I mean that ... me telling her and knowing that she would tell you ... it tripped Voldemort up, at least temporarily. He would’ve taken Cory much sooner if he wasn’t so afraid of what you would do when you knew the truth. The Dementor attack was a part of the original plan.”

“But then ...” whispered Dean, “do you mean that ... Voldemort actually meant for the Dementor to hurt Cory and Gwen?”

Harry looked guiltily at them again. “I managed to stop him just in time. I don’t want to think of what would have happened had I not been able to make that Patronus ...”

“But doesn’t your Patronus always take the form of a stag? This one barely had any shape to it at all!”

“Yes, it does, but ... all of the memories that I once would have used to produce the stag ... they’re tainted now by memories of him.” He spit the last word out like a dirty expletive. “He tainted every part of me! Every good moment of my life! Any happy memories I may have had of my friends! I’ll be lucky to ever see that stag again because all I can remember ... all that comes to me now ... is that none of that can happen again, not for me!”

“Jesus, Harry,” Dean muttered. “I can’t imagine �“”

“No, Dean, you can’t,” he snapped. “Thank God you can’t. You have no idea what it feels like for him to take everything from you and make you watch while he turns it all into dust! I watched him murder Ginny, Ron and Hermione, torture hundreds of innocent children until they did what he wanted, and take away pretty much everyone I’ve ever known or loved; and all the while I was there, and it wasn’t just him killing them, because there was a part of me that was killing them too! You can’t know what that’s like!”

“Harry,” said McGonagall tentatively, “what happened after Voldemort Disapparated from your office? Why did he take you onto the grounds; why have Charlie meet him in the office in the first place?”

Harry sighed heavily. “Look ... Dean, Professor McGonagall ... I understand this is all stuff you need to know, but do we really have to go through it now? I want to sleep.”

“Better to do it now while it is fresh in our minds,” said McGonagall. “I am truly sorry, Harry, but you would not be any more ready for this if we waited years to discuss it.”

“Yeah, all right, I’m sorry. I �“ I don’t know,” he answered her earlier question. He shook his head and wiped the wet tears from his face, his voice a little calmer. “I don’t even know why he took Leah and Gwen too; he was always only going to take Cory. But maybe he just thought that they knew too much? Anyways, we went outside, and the children were putting up a good fight ... but of course they had no real chance; he was just toying with them. He threw the girls on the ground ... broke Cory’s leg ... I managed to regain control for just a second, and he must’ve been afraid that they’d run then, so he put the shield around them. And then the three of you came.” He gazed at them with such admiration that for a moment Dean swore he could see a glimmer of the old Harry in that look. “And, well, you pretty much know the rest.”

“But his Death Eaters ... the army outside of the gates ...” breathed Dean. “I mean, they all scampered as soon as they noticed he was dead, but why didn’t he call on them before?”

“He was tired,” Harry answered with a mocking smile. “Can you believe that? Voldemort was actually tired of the whole charade! Having him in my mind was physically painfully for both of us, every second was total agony, and we lived like that for twelve years! But I think he still would have gone through with his original plan, had the Dementor not removed him from my body. After that, he saw no reason to continue as nothing more than a ghost. I guess eternity didn’t seem so tempting to him anymore.” He laughed again.

“So he killed me.”

He said it so easily, as if it meant nothing, and maybe it didn’t anymore. Because, Dean realized, Harry was tired too, tired of it all.

“And he’s finally out of you now? The Horcrux, is it really destroyed?”

“Yes, he’s gone. I can’t feel his presence at all.”

Harry was still crying; all three of them were crying. It felt like they had never stopped, only hid it well beneath the walls and layers and years that they had built, until the time finally came when they could share their tears with each other.

“What about your spell? The one you used against him: Priori Incantato.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to see them one last time?” he asked, resting back against the pillows. “I didn’t think that I would survive this fight, in fact I was planning on it, and I couldn’t be sure of what I would see on the other side when I didn’t. It worked in the graveyard during the Triwizard Tournament, and I just ... just wanted to tell them ... how sorry I am ... about how things turned out.”

“There is nothing wrong with that,” soothed McGonagall quietly. She grasped Harry’s right hand while Dean grasped his left, and they held on for a long time. “But I’m sure they all ready knew.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do now?” asked Dean.

“You shall stay at Kootenay, of course,” McGonagall answered before Harry could put a word in. “You will be perfectly protected here under the wards and extra security. Just because Voldemort is gone, doesn’t mean that other Death Eaters won’t be looking for you.”

Harry mumbled something unintelligible, making McGonagall and Dean lean in closer.

“What was that, Harry?” said Dean. “Couldn’t make that out, mate.”

And then Harry exploded. He bolted upright in his bed, his hair tousled and his pyjama shirt wrinkled; his eyes were as sharp as emeralds. To say the very least he looked quite dangerous, or maybe insane.

“It’s not safe anywhere!” he cried. His voice cracked twice. “Don’t you get that? Hogwarts wasn’t safe so many years ago, and Kootenay has been in danger ever since I came here. Anywhere I go isn’t safe! I’m not safe,” his voice turned into a hoarse choke, “so it would just be better for everyone if I wasn’t around anymore. I bring everyone around me down too.”

McGonagall gasped quietly. Dean looked sick.

“Don’t say that, mate,” Dean pleaded.

“Harry, what are you saying?” asked McGonagall.

“I shouldn’t exist!” he whispered. “It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble and pain if I’d just died during the First Battle when I was supposed to.”

“No, don’t say that. It isn’t true.” Dean swallowed the bile that was suddenly rising in his throat.

“I’m … hollow �“ empty,” he said gutturally. His haunted eyes, the ones that reminded Professor McGonagall of Sirius Black after he’d escaped Azkaban prison, closed in unspeakable anguish. “I was forced to see things, to do things,” he shuddered, “the nature of which you could never comprehend. And I wouldn’t want you to. But so many people’s blood is on my hands and it wasn’t even worth it. None of it was worth this.”

An awkward silence fell. Dean looked around at the others’ solemn faces and abruptly changed the topic. “Hogwarts is going to be rebuilt. They’re estimating that it should be ready to open again by September of next year. Death Eater free this time,” he said in a falsely upbeat tone.

Harry was only partially listening. McGonagall and Dean knew that he wanted to be left alone right then, but they could not bear to let him close in on himself again.

“There will be lots of job openings, too. You always did enjoy teaching the D.A.”

“I’m tired. Please, just leave,” said Harry quietly.

Then he rolled onto one side in the bed, facing the wall instead of them, and feigned falling into a light sleep. His companions shared a long look with each other before they gave up for now and began to leave the hospital wing, leaving the broken man behind them to his thoughts.

At the last moment however, Harry seemed to remember something vital, for he sat up again and called Dean back.

After he had voiced his request and Dean had left, Harry laid back down and let sleep finally claim him.





Lying half awake in his bed in the hospital wing, Harry Potter tried to let his grief finally come. Voldemort was gone, his mind was at last his own, and there had been no more casualties in the process. He knew he should be grateful, even cheerful; but he wasn’t, and he wondered why.

Charlie had been in to visit again after McGonagall and Dean had left, and they’d talked long through the morning and into the afternoon about any trivial subject which came to mind. Harry had liked that; he’d had enough worry over Voldemort and Horcruxes to fill a couple of lifetimes, and it was nice, to have a person to talk absolutely nothing with again. And while they’d talked, Charlie had also passed along something else.

Carefully, Harry pulled the old crumpled photograph that he had asked for and which Dean had given Charlie to pass to him from its envelope, and smoothed it out: he’d hoped, probably fruitlessly, that seeing that group of happy teenagers decked out in their Quidditch gear would do something for him; finally make him feel alive, or throw up, or just … something, anything.

That far away day had been his old life though, and like it or not, it was long gone and he could never get it back. He didn’t feel sad or angry that it was gone, but maybe that would come with time. And with that thought, Harry finally understood what it was he was feeling, and it hurt no less, made none of it any easier. Harry was finding himself lacking any emotion at all. He felt numb. He felt dead.

He stuffed the picture away and closed his eyes resignedly. He had made a promise to Dumbledore, before he’d made the decision to come back, that he would try to find some level of happiness now in whatever he could; but he didn’t want this emptiness that was inside of him. He didn’t want any of this anymore.





“What’s going to happen now?” asked Leah. The three of them �“ her, Gwen, and Cory �“ were outside, happily taking advantage of the bright spring day by lounging under their favourite tree by the edge of the forest on the far side of the lake.

“What do you mean?” said Gwen.

“Well, what’s Mr Potter going to do now that he’s safe and You-Know-Who is gone? He’s not just going to leave and forget about all this, is he? I don’t see how he could.”

In the distance she could see two people walking together across the grounds. The first was Potter, his Masen disguise discarded for the moment. The other was unmistakably Hagrid, who kept dabbing at his eyes every few seconds with a large handkerchief as the old friends spoke.

Good, Leah thought, satisfied. He deserves some closure.

Cory picked at the long grass with his fingers, rubbing the green strands together and letting them flutter to rest by his feet. His eyes remained fixed on his shoes. “My dad says he’ll be staying with us in Romania, at least for now. ‘As good as family’, he said. It’s going to be weird though. I mean, having Harry Potter living with us. But Mum is thrilled, already has a room made up for him and everything.”

“That’s great!” replied Leah, gazing at him curiously. “Isn’t it? At least he won’t be alone.”

“Yeah, I guess. Both of you will come and visit though, right? Maybe some more familiar faces will be good for him, people that aren’t connected to his life before all of this.”

“We’ll be there,” said Gwen. “What are best friends for, eh?”

Cory snorted, finally letting a reluctant smile spread across his face, and he shoved his shoulder against hers playfully. “Now, I thought that the two of us weren’t friends.”

Gwen grimaced as she leaned her bandaged head against the trunk of the tree. Her concussion was healing quickly, but Madam Pomfrey had said that she should expect her head to be tender for a day or two and not to overexert herself. “Look, man, do I have to spell it out for you?”

At his blank look, she laughed and bumped his shoulder in return. Leah shook her head in amusement. “Boys are so daft,” said Gwen. “Of course we’re friends … best friends just like we are to Leah. How could we have survived everything that we have this year and still not been?”

He nodded, as if life suddenly made perfect sense to him, or at least, Gwen Seward did. “Okay, good. I mean, cool. That’s cool.”

Suddenly, Leah glanced up from the pages of notes she was only halfheartedly reading (they may have helped save the world, but they were still expected to write their end of the year exams, McGonagall had taken entirely too much pleasure in reminding them) and her eyes were mischievous, her smile wide. “Hey, Gwen?”

“Yeah?” The blonde girl’s eyes roamed over to Leah, who was sitting on the opposite side of her as Cory.

“Remember the first day that we all met?”

“Yeah …?”

“So then you remember what you told me during the Sorting Ceremony, about Cory? That if he didn’t turn out to be just another one of those stuck-up, teacher-loving snobs than you’d do one million cartwheels through the common room in your bathrobe.”

Cory looked properly appalled. “You didn’t!” he laughed.

Gwen’s face at that moment most closely resembled a ripe tomato, so brightly red it was. She mumbled a heated curse under her breath, ignoring Cory’s grin and Leah’s teasing tone. “You just had to bring that up, didn’t you?”

“You should probably wait a bit though, Gwen,” continued Leah calmly. “I’m sure that’s one thing that would definitely fall under Pomfrey’s classification of overexertion. Because I think that Cory has proven he is, in fact, nothing of the sort.”

There was silence, and then all at once the three friends dissolved into a round of uncontrollable laughter, their voices ringing out over the whole school grounds. People stopped what they were doing to look up, searching for the source of the commotion, or stared as they passed by; but under the big tree they didn’t take any notice. For they were secure in the power of their friendship that day, and they knew that it would never fade, would only ever get stronger as the years went on. It made them immortal.

Epilogue
Finding a Way

The Australian air was hot and dry for this time of year. Streaks of sunlight filtered through the fluffy clouds onto the cobblestone walk, the sky was a deep sapphire blue, and the cries of children were everywhere. They ran, and played, and weaved their small bodies around each other, making good use of the snow that remained on the ground before it melted for good.

As he sidestepped them, Harry glanced down again at the wrinkled slip of parchment Charlie had handed him two days earlier with nothing more than a quiet word that there may still be one last loose end to tie. On it was scrawled the address he’d already memorized, its visual counterpart standing not fifty paces away.

The house that right now held who he’d come to see was small and homely, a red brick bungalow on the outskirts of town, yet still close enough for its occupants not to feel entirely isolated from the outside world. The door was painted the same blue as the sky; and Harry pushed his round glasses up on his nose in nervous excitement.

Truth be told, the thought to find them had never appealed to him before Charlie had suggested it; the kid would be better off without him and had probably long ago given up the hope of ever meeting his godfather �“ if he even knew that he had one.

Not letting himself think better of what he was about to do, Harry approached and knocked on the door. He heard no movement within the house and was just on the verge of turning back when the door opened, revealing a boy no older than thirteen but as tall as a man, with a heart-shaped face, intelligent eyes, and hair the astonishing colour of a ripe lemon. Harry couldn’t help but stare at the miracle that had presented itself before him.

“Can I help you?”

The boy’s curious voice snapped Harry from his thoughts at once and he opened his mouth, not knowing what he should say, and yet knowing that he needed to say something.

“Teddy! What did I tell you about answering the door without me?”

Hurried footsteps approached and then an elderly woman was standing beside Teddy, her black hair shot through with wisps of gray, her face etched with the lines of many hard years.

“It’s just some man, Gran. Jeez.” He ducked the playful swat of her hand as she pushed him behind her so that she was face to face with Harry.

“Mrs Tonks,” greeted Harry. “You might not remember me �“”

Andromeda Tonks’ tone was all business as she looked him up and down. “Charlie said to expect you.”

“Oh.” He swept a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his sweaty forehead, a nervous habit he was sure he would never lose. He didn’t notice the boy’s light eyes widen in shock as he did so. “Well, that’s ... er, if this is a bad time than I can �“”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” She practically pulled him off of the porch and into the house, guiding him down a hallway lined with framed photographs and into the kitchen. “When would there be a better time?”

It wasn’t a question he was meant to answer, and so he followed her, Teddy trailing closely behind them.

When she looked over her shoulder, her expression was stern. “Teddy, go upstairs, please. Now.”

“But �“”

“Don’t talk back to me, Teddy Lupin! I’ll call you down when we’re ready for you.”

Andromeda sighed as Teddy’s stomping footsteps disappeared up the stairs. “I’m sorry. He’s been moody and irritable since school let out; it’s the teenager in him emerging no doubt.”

“It’s fine,” said Harry.

“Would you like some tea, or some biscuits, maybe? I daresay you’ve had a long journey.”

“Er, yes, thank you. Look, Mrs Tonks �“”

“Call me Andromeda, please.” She set out the platter of cookies and the teacups, pouring Harry’s drink as she spoke. Her face was sombre. “I wanted to tell you before you visited with Teddy, Harry, that I didn’t tell him everything that Charlie told me. He’s believed for his entire life that you were killed in the First Battle; I didn’t want him to know the whole truth ... the part about You-Know-Who that is ... until he was ready for it. I thought that was something you might like to tell him yourself.”

Harry sighed heavily. “I appreciate that. He’s so ... young.”

“But he’s very mature for his age,” she answered proudly. For the first time since he’d arrived, she smiled widely. “Much more than my Dora was, anyways; I suspect that comes from his father.”

“He looks a lot like her.”

“That he does.” She finished pouring the tea and moved towards the stairs. “Why don’t I go get him then? I think I’ve said all I needed to.”

She was halfway up the stairs when she suddenly turned around. “You’re okay now then, Harry? He’s really gone this time?”

“Yeah.” The simple lie came so easily to him these days. “Yeah, I’m okay.” More firmly he added, “He’s gone for good.”

Harry waited as she disappeared after her grandson and tapped his foot impatiently in the cold silence. Would Teddy be happy to see him? Or would he be angry, wanting to understand why it had taken Harry nearly thirteen years to come if he had never really been dead?

It was funny in a twisted sort of way, he thought: without even meaning to, Harry seemed to be turning into as good a godfather to Teddy as Sirius had been to him. The only difference was that Harry’s prison had been in his own mind, rather than a fortress out at sea.

Rapid footsteps raced down the stairs from the floor above and then Teddy was there, standing in the doorway, looking interested but wary.

“So, you’re my godfather, huh?”

Harry stood up so he could greet the boy properly. His hair was now the vivid turquoise colour that he had been sporting in the only photograph Harry had ever seen of him. “Well, it was never made official or anything ... but yeah, I am. I’m Harry.”

He vaguely wondered where Andromeda had gone, for she had failed to reappear alongside her grandson; and then Teddy was speaking again and the question was forgotten in favour of watching this amazing, living rendition of Remus and Tonks in front of him.

“Where’ve you been, then? Gran said you’d died.” He eyed Harry accusingly while they both sat.

He’d expected this, an inquiry. But Teddy was blunt, and it wasn’t any easier to look into his eyes and know that Harry had still failed him in some huge way by not being there for him, even if he hadn’t meant to.

“She was telling you the truth �“ as far as everyone knew,” said Harry carefully. “They thought I had ... died. But I didn’t �“ I mean, I’m obviously still alive. I was held captive by Voldemort, I guess you could say, and I’ve only been free for a matter of weeks.”

“Oh.” It didn’t seem to be the answer he had expected to hear because he began playing with the knees of his trousers, plucking at the loose threads with his fingers as he looked down at his lap. “I thought she must’ve lied, or something,” he mumbled.

“I’m really sorry I haven’t been around, Teddy.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like it was your fault, though, was it? You never asked to be held against your will. Besides, you’re here now,” he added shyly.

“That’s the important part, I guess,” said Harry. “And I can be here in whatever role you need me for. Like, if you just want to hang out sometimes, or want to hear some good stories about your parents ... I don’t know if ...”

“What?” whispered Teddy, looking up.

“I don’t know how much you know about them.”

Teddy thought in silence for a while and then answered with the grace of one treading across thin ice, “I know lots about my mum, but hardly anything about my dad. Gran never really knew him well, either. I mean, I know some stuff ... that he was a werewolf, a Gryffindor, big things like that; but none of the little details. I know that he taught Defence at Hogwarts for a year, so he must have been really smart and liked rules, and such �“”

And Harry laughed hard, for the first time in a long time; a real, genuine laugh that reached him right through to the bone and obliterated any remaining awkwardness that may have lain between them.

“Teddy,” he said more confidently now, wiping tears of a whole different nature from his eyes. “Hasn’t anybody ever told you about The Marauders?”

Mingled excitement and curiosity shone from Teddy like a beacon as he looked at Harry; and finally, Harry understood why he was here, something Charlie had obviously foreseen from the start. A job that only he could do, the knowledge of Teddy’s father that only he was left to tell, would be the gift that his godson had long been missing; a deep pain that he alone could lift. And with this job laid out before him, Harry saw how he could finally begin to move forward.

Nothing would ever be completely okay again; he could never go back to being that seventeen year old boy, damaged and trampled upon, yes, but still, miraculously, somehow whole. He was changed, in a lot ways, forever.

And yet he saw the potential in this new ending, like a whisper of the stolen life that had been taken from him but spinning in a new direction. He could follow it, or he could continue to let his demons win from beyond the grave.

He would follow it. And that new direction, it could start with this boy �“ this almost-man �“ that he should have known, sitting across from him.

Harry smiled and settled deeper into his chair, and began to tell Teddy everything.



The End