Dumbledore lowered his hand on the back of Fawkes, lost in his thoughts.

So far, the current term had been the strangest and busiest start of a school year he had experienced. Ever.

Not only had he had to resort to dueling a professor, but he also had contended with a Dark Lord attached to said professor and handled the repercussions of the events surrounding the formerly-believed-to-be-dead Dark Lord becoming public knowledge. It had been hectic, to say the least.

Thankfully, Madam Bones and her two aurors had stood firm and had testified to the truth. The Wizengamot, and thus the Ministry, could not dispute the memories of several upstanding personnel. He shook his head, recalling Fudge's denial even with the indisputable evidence, which also included Quirrell's body. How that man had been elected was beyond him. However, there was now talk that many people in the Wizengamot and the Board had lost a bit of confidence in Fudge because of his handling of the situation. Dumbledore hoped something would come of that.

Severus was also laying heavily on his mind. Something was different about him, something. . . . But he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was exactly. He was still his potions master and spy, but he was . . . different. He didn't even think Severus himself realized how strange he had been acting lately, and that was what was bothering Albus most.

Severus had always been alert and very aware, but now, when it came to his surroundings, the younger man was downright calculating. He was worse than Mad-Eye in regards to it, at least as far as Dumbledore was concerned. When standing in a room, his back was always to a wall, and when he moved, he moved with a fluid grace that was always efficient and quick. He had never been like that, even when he had been an active spy. Billowing cape, yes, but practically majestic in his movements? No.

Was it from meeting Harry? The magic of the Legacy Spell was Old Magic, and sometimes that magic would bring unforeseen consequences to the caster. Had the magic from the Legacy Spell affected him more than he was saying or more than his spy even knew?

Dumbledore had also noticed the change in the man's teaching methods. There had been a drastic drop of crying first years compared to previous terms, which was downright strange, albeit a pleasant change. A few of the students had also brought the modified lesson plans to the attention of the other teachers'. They weren't drastic alterations, but they were definitely notable. Granted, all of the changes were good for the students, so Albus had no reason to bring up the issue with Severus. He did want to talk to him about it though, and yet, he didn't want to give any sign that he had noticed. Severus was odd that way. He didn't want to have to talk about anything he was doing well. Sometimes that man was so humble it was annoying.

His thoughts strayed back to Harry. When he had first seen him in the Great Hall, he had assumed he would be sorted into Slytherin. Admittedly, Albus didn't want him sorted there, but he knew Severus would be able to watch over him so didn't feel extremely wary about it. He had, however, still hoped the sorting hat would place Harry into his parents' house, no matter how unlikely that obviously was. And then the boy had been sorted into Hufflepuff . . . after sixteen long minutes under the hat. The longest anyone had taken in the past three hundred years.

The sorting hat had not really been that forth coming when Albus had asked him about Harry's sorting later, after the feast. However, he had said some things that had caught his interest. . . .

"I do not reveal what I find in students' heads, Headmaster, I have told you before," he said, a little smugly.

"I understand that, sorting hat, but you have never asked a student to pace for you to be able to sort them before, not to mention your reactions during the sorting. You hmm'ed and even gasped out loud."

"He was . . . difficult to place at first."

"Why?"

"He has many traits. I had to examine them all carefully to determine which house fit best for him."

"I see. Was there a close second to Hufflepuff?"

"Well, without telling you the particulars, I will tell you that he is the most cunning, rationally brave Hufflepuff I have ever sorted. Also, I don't believe I have ever sorted a soul as determined to do his best as he is."

Dumbledore stared at the sorting hat for a moment, hoping to be told more. The hat sighed at the old man's annoying patience and silent insistence.

"One last thing, Headmaster - you would do well to always be honest and open with the boy. His trust is hard to regain and is very precious."

Albus blinked. "I will . . . keep that in mind. Thank you, sorting hat."

"No problem, Headmaster. Happy to share."

Had the sorting hat known? Dumbledore looked to the top of the shelf where the hat was sleeping. Most likely, especially with that gasp he had made in the middle of the sorting.

The old wizard shook his head and allowed his thoughts to wander once more.

He had already appraised Pomona of the situation, as well as Poppy Pomfrey. They had taken the news quite well, though it was clear it would take time for them to absorb everything he had told them about Harry. He hadn't told Pomona and Poppy how they had learned what they knew about Harry, and they hadn't asked. Albus was sure they had their suspicions, but didn't want to know.

He smiled. He now had quite a team made up devoted in helping Harry, and part of him wondered if that was Severus' plan all along in finally coming clean with him and telling him about the Legacy Spell and what he had seen through it. That man wasn't the Head of Slytherin House for nothing, after all.

And now, he would be going to the infirmary once he had received word Harry was awake to speak with him. He was really looking forward to it, although he wondered what would come of it all, and the more he thought about it, the more concerned he became.

Were they doing right by Harry? Was this really the best course of action? Should they be adding to his ‘course load' as they were, taking away part of his weekends to have him improve his parselmagic? Was it fair to have him work even harder than he already was in attempt to reach this ‘vision' of Severus'?

Was he, Albus Dumbledore, making another mistake?

Dumbledore shook himself, reminding himself to look at the bigger picture, but then he froze. That was how he had made his previous mistake. He had looked at the bigger picture when placing Harry with the Dursleys.

But this was different, wasn't it?

Fawkes gave a light trill, lifting his spirits and letting him know this was the right path.

"Thank you, my old friend," he whispered, wishing he had listened to Fawkes ten years before, when he had struggled over the decision of where to place Harry.

But he had been too confident, confident that Lily's sister would have a heart and grow to love Harry, thus making the Blood Wards even better than a Fidelius for the boy's protection. But now, they were merely wards. Sure, they were still very strong, and Voldemort would find it impossible to penetrate them, but they were not as strong as they could have been.

They could have been a fortress; they could have endowed Harry with full protection against Voldemort wherever he went. But his plan had failed. The mental assault Harry had suffered was proof. Voldemort's magic, through Quirrell, had been able to touch Harry - and that would have been impossible if the Blood Wards had been infused with the care-giving love Petunia should have been giving Harry for the past ten years.

He should have known, but the hope of Harry receiving the ultimate protection against Riddle had blinded him.

Well, one could not change the past. Not really. It was set in stone. And though he wished he could go back and do things differently, his only hope was in the present. A hope that he was helping shape the future into one he would be content, maybe even proud, to leave to the next generation.

Dumbledore straightened. The little indicator on his desk had lit up, letting him know Harry was close to waking.

O o O o O

Harry opened his eyes, feeling like he had just gotten over a very bad cold. He reached over subconsciously to get his glasses from the side table before putting them on.

:You are in the infirmary, Harry. You have been sleeping for a little over two days: Coral said, raising herself up from his arm.

:How is-:

"Good afternoon, Harry."

Harry quickly turned his head from Coral and to who had just spoken. It was the Headmaster. He was robed in bright orange and purple robes. Harry suddenly wondered if the sight of wizards deteriorated with age, dulling vibrant color and making them believe neon orange was really a soft, light brown.

Pushing the mental tangent aside, Harry quickly sat up.

"Draco? Is . . . is he okay?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, he is quite alright, thanks to you. You saved his life."

Harry sagged down with relief and took a few calming breaths.

"He was released this morning, although Madam Pomfrey has ordered him to take things easy for the next few days."

"His arm, I wasn't able to fix that," Harry said.

"Madam Pomfrey took care of it, not to worry," he said soothingly.

Harry relaxed back on the pillows, still feeling a little out of it. Dumbledore took this moment to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I have taken the liberty of awarding Hufflepuff one-hundred points while you were asleep for your actions Thursday. You will also be personally receiving an award for services to the school."

Harry's eyes widened. "Uh, thank you, sir, but it really isn't . . . I mean, you don't ha-"

"Harry, I don't think you understand what you have done. You saved a life, and without regard to your own discomforts. Did you know that you arrived in the infirmary with third degree burns on your left wrist where your magic was so concentrated within Coral her scales became as hot as fire? You were so focused on healing young Malfoy that whatever pain you felt at the time was pushed aside."

Harry lifted his arm as Coral slithered onto his chest so he could examine the mentioned wrist.

There was scarring encircling his wrist and going up a little at the back of his palm. Looking closely, he could actually make out the shapes of Coral's scales where they had burned into his flesh.

"Madam Pomfrey tried to minimize the scaring, but as it was a severe magical burn, she wasn't able to heal it as well as she would have liked," Dumbledore continued, his voice subdued as Harry traced the edge of the scarring with his right thumb.

"It's alright. I'm just glad she was able to heal the burn itself," Harry said lightly, finding the scar quite cool.

A part of him was actually proud of it, as odd as that sounded, for he had done something to get it. Granted, this was only his second scar, but it hadn't been given to him; instead, he had, for lack of a better word, earned it. All of his other injuries had healed without leaving a mark. Maybe it was his own magic that had healed him so well? Perhaps.

"Harry," the Headmaster said, once again getting his attention. "I have spoken with Professors Snape and Sprout, as well as Madam Pomfrey, and we were wondering if you would like some assistance in improving your parselmagic."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Assistance?"

"Well, I know Professor Snape has already begun helping you, through giving you ‘The Art of Parsel,' but the assistance I am talking about is a bit more hands on."

Harry waited for more explanation.

"Madam Pomfrey has already agreed to allow you to help her on the weekends here, within the infirmary, if you wished."

"You mean, I would use parselmagic to heal whoever comes in here?" Harry asked, obviously becoming excited.

"Yes, but only on the weekends, unless she felt your ability was needed specifically during the week."

"That would be great! Do I start today? It is Saturday, right?" he asked eagerly.

"It is Saturday, but I doubt she would want you to heal anyone so soon after recovering from magical fatigue."

"Oh." Harry slouched.

"But I'm sure next week will be fine," Albus assured.

"What will be fine next week?" Pomfrey asked as she stepped from her office.

"For Harry to begin assisting you next weekend," the Headmaster answered.

She looked at Harry, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his sleepy state and noted his improved color. He had looked dreadfully pale when they had first brought him in.

"We will see. If I find his magic is back where it should be, I won't see any problem in letting him help me," she said, before giving Harry a small smile.

Harry couldn't help but beam.

Dumbledore smiled softly, his eyes twinkling brightly as he became confident he had made the right choice.

With that, Professor Sprout entered, quickly going to her youngest Hufflepuff.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, taking his hand as Dumbledore stepped back to give her room.

"Fine, professor," Harry answered, trying not to blush at the concern she was showing.

"And Coral? How is she?" she asked, looking down at the colorful snake already around Harry's scarred wrist.

:Coral?: Harry asked, suddenly realizing the thought hadn't crossed his mind. He had been too busy thinking about Draco and then about what the Headmaster had proposed.

:I am fine, Harry. Being a magical snake, your magic channeling through me cannot harm me. I am much like a wand in that regard: she said. :Though, if I was a normal snake, I would not have fared as well:

:I'm glad you're alright: Harry said, utterly relieved.

"Harry?" Sprout asked, a little worried as she couldn't understand what was being said.

"Oh, she's alright. She told me my magic can't hurt her while going through her. She's sort of like a wand. I was just relieved," Harry answered, turning slightly pink.

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said. "I assume it is because she is a magical snake?"

"Yes, sir. She doesn't think a normal snake would-"

:A normal snake would have likely died, Harry: she interrupted.

Harry swallowed thickly. "A normal snake probably would have died."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes holding great understanding, as if what Harry had just said solved a riddle in his mind.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, preventing the silence that was about to rise. "Take all the time you need to rest. If you want to reach what Professor Snape spoke of, you need to allow your body and magic to recover. What you had done was quite strenuous, after all."

Harry's eyes widened, suddenly wondering what exactly his favorite professor had told the Headmaster and whether or not Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout knew as well.

Did they know about the Legacy Spell? Had the professor gotten in trouble?

Did they know about the block?

His face must have been like a book, for Dumbledore quickly moved toward him.

"No need to be alarmed. Professor Snape told me, and I felt it best to inform Madam Pomfrey, as she is your healer, and Professor Sprout, your Head of House. What Professor Snape told me will stay between us. I understand this sort of thing can be rather personal," Dumbledore said lightly. "Harry, like Professor Snape, we are here to help you."

Harry blinked, before looking to Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey.

They nodded as Harry's eyes settled on Sprout's gently smiling face, which was glowing with sincerity. Harry had a fluttering thought that maybe this was how it felt to be loved.

O o O o O

Draco slowed his pace as he approached the infirmary doors. He saw Neville and a few other Hufflepuffs waiting just outside in the hall.

"Longbottom," he said, coming to a stop before them.

"Hello, Draco," Neville said quietly.

Cedric Diggory, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Ernie Macmillan were there as well.

Draco and Neville hadn't had the opportunity to really speak since the accident, and they weren't really sure what to say to each other now.

"I heard he has woken up," Draco said, deciding that would do for an explanation as to why he was there.

They nodded.

"Professor Sprout told us he had woken up about a half hour ago," Cedric said.

"Are they not allowing visitors?" Draco asked, seeing as they were still all in the hall and the door was closed.

"The Headmaster and our Head of House are speaking with him," Susan stated.

Draco's eyes widened. "Oh."

They stood there and stared at one another for several seconds.

"So, uh, how are you? I mean . . ." Ernie said, trying to make the moment less awkward.

"I'm much better. Potter . . . he did a good job," Draco said, a little embarrassed for being so honest. He wasn't used to dealing with or admitting weakness in any way to anyone, but he couldn't deny what Harry had done for him. He could still remember the feeling of his magic reentering him. It had been very close.

He was understandably still trying to come to terms with it. The thought of death was not a very tangible thing to him, and the realization that he had been so close to it was very hard to actually grasp and accept.

"That's good. It looked pretty bad," Justin said, remembering what he had seen that day.

They hadn't been really close, but they had followed everyone else behind Madam Hooch, and the color red was easy to spot from most any distance.

"Yes, well . . ." Draco said, subconsciously rubbing his arm that Pomfrey had healed.

"What did it feel like?" Hannah piped up, before shying away behind Susan as they all turned their eyes to her.

Draco cleared his throat. "It, well, it wasn't really pleasant, but it definitely beat being dead."

"So it hurt?" Ernie asked, intrigued.

It was clear Draco didn't really like their curiosity. "No, it felt wonderful. Merlin, what do you think jagged bone digging into raw nerves feels like? And then to have said bone shards align and rejoin to reform your shattered skull? It bloody hurts!"

"Oh," Ernie said, quite chagrined. "Sorry, Malfoy, I was just curious. Didn't mean to remind you."

Malfoy continued to stare at him unwaveringly for a few more seconds, before he softened his expression. "I probably would have asked the same," he muttered after a moment.

Suddenly, the infirmary doors opened and the Headmaster and Professor Sprout stepped out.

"Ah, waiting to visit Mr. Potter, I presume?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, sir," Cedric answered.

"I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will allow you to enter," he said, stepping aside to let them pass.

"Thank you, Professor," Cedric said, before looking to his Head of House.

"Go on, I'm sure he'll be happy to see all of you," she said, before continuing down the hall with the headmaster.

With that, they hurried into the infirmary.

O o O o O

Severus peered over the head table to look at the students below. Harry had been released from the infirmary earlier that day, and, according to Hagrid, had immediately headed to the half giant's place for tea with Neville and Draco.

He looked over at his godson, who was happily chatting away with Nott and Zabini. Crabbe and Goyle were across from them, listening in on the conversation. Severus wondered which path they would choose. He hoped they would not follow their fathers'.

Deciding he would have to wait and see, he turned his eyes to Mr. Potter, who was once again under intense scrutiny by his peers. Everyone was craning their necks to get a look at him, and many of them were trying their best to see the wrist Coral was currently curled around.

Word of the new scar had already become legend, now only barely preceded by the one on the boy's forehead. The past few days had been as Severus had mostly expected them to be after Harry's heroic actions, though some things even he couldn't have foreseen.

It was a livid Lucius Malfoy who had attended the last Board meeting, and, according to those present, he had ripped into the financial committee without any regard to how threatening and frightening he appeared (or maybe that was his point).

It had come to the Head of the Malfoy family's attention that the Headmaster had requested funding for new brooms for the last six years, and had been denied every single time. Such a simple request, one that had been reiterated every year, had been turned down because of the fear of raising tuition at Hogwarts. As a result, their penny-pinching tendencies (or knut-pinching) had nearly cost a boy his life.

Lucius was furious and made it known. Suffice it to say, the Board immediately moved to overhaul and reorganize spending at Hogwarts.

Severus glanced at Dumbledore.

Albus had been pleased with the news, especially when the Board had asked him to provide them a list of things he felt needed a bit more funding.

The Headmaster sent them an in depth, three-foot-long roll of parchment fifteen minutes later with Fawkes.

Severus wondered if a fresh batch of potion ingredients had made it on that list. Hopefully.

He shook his head, berating himself for being so selfish. It wasn't like he didn't have the funds himself to get whatever he wished, ingredients wise . . . well, save for basilisk parts, unicorn blood, dragon eyes, vampire fangs, and banshee hair, but besides those things he could get whatever he wished.

He looked across the head table to Madam Pomfrey.

Harry would be helping her next weekend. He wondered if Madam Pomfrey had anything specifically planned for him to do. Well, whatever her plans, Severus was certain the famous Hufflepuff would improve his overall healing skills, just as he had in the future with her.

O o O o O

Harry scratched the top of Coral's head, just as she liked as they approached the infirmary.

The past week had been a little difficult for him. People were more curious about him than ever, and them whispering . . . it was driving him crazy. Didn't they know he was right there and could hear them?! It was annoying.

To top it all off, he also learned earlier that week that he had made it into the Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, several times since beginning Hogwarts. They had informed the public of his sorting, the fact he was a Parselmouth, and now his actions in saving Draco's life.

He really wondered where they got off believing they had the right to report all of that without asking his permission. Oh well, there was nothing he could really do about it, and he had wanted people to get used to him being a Parselmouth. Perhaps this way had been best. Just like a band-aid. Rip it off and just get it over with. And at least they weren't saying anything malicious.  So far they had been telling the truth, well, for the most part. The bit about him stealing a bit of the Dark Lord's powers when he had been a baby was a bit of a stretch (their attempt to explain where he had gotten the ability to speak Parseltongue). He could only shake his head.

Harry had continued reading the books Professor Snape had given him, and had even reread certain parts in ‘The Art of Parsel'. He wanted to go in the infirmary prepared to help Madam Pomfrey.

He sighed to himself, remembering what he had realized after rereading one of the last chapters in the Parsel book. Evidently, he hadn't needed to pump Draco with as much magic as he had. His method had worked, of course, and at the time it was the best option since he didn't know/understand any other technique, but he had made it harder on himself. That was why he had passed out afterward, and why he had burned himself. Well, it was a lesson learned, that was for sure. Next time (though, hopefully there wouldn't be a next time), he would better manipulate and control his magic he was putting into the patient, rather than simply push and pray for the best.

He entered the infirmary, the door slowly closing behind him.

"Mr. Potter, right on time," Madam Pomfrey said, moving around an empty bed.

Harry continued forward, before stopping a few feet before her.

"I usually only have one or two students come in on the weekends for little things, like stomach aches and minor hexes and injuries, so I have gathered a few of my old healing textbooks from the healing university I attended."

Harry looked over to the bed behind her. Sure enough, four large textbooks were on the side table.

"I understand that Professor Snape has already given you extra reading material?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I've finished most of them, though, so I can take on a few more if you need me to, Ma'am."

She shook her head. "No, I won't assign you outside reading material. You'll be reading while you are here. I was just curious about what he had given you and how far you have gotten."

"Oh. Well, I've finished reading ‘The Art of Parsel,' 'Caring for Serpents,' and ‘The Beginner's Guide to the Art of Brewing: Ingredients.' And I'm about done with ‘The Human Anatomy' and 'Controlling Your Inner Magic.' There's another, but I haven't gotten really far in it yet." Harry hoped she wouldn't ask about that last bit. It was the Occlumency book.

"I see," she said with a smile, quite pleased. "Concerning ‘Controlling Your Inner Magic,' I suggest you make that book your next priority to finish."

"Yes, Ma'am," he agreed.

"Alright, well, why don't we start with the basics?" she asked, turning around and going to the stack of books. She retrieved the one on top before sitting on the edge of the bed and motioning Harry to sit beside her.

Harry did so, wondering if she was going to read to him. He blushed at the thought. No one had read to him before.

She opened the book on her lap, showing him the pages of text and moving images. Looking at the chapter title, he found the words, ‘Inner Core and Network'.

Seeing she had Harry's complete attention, she began teaching, using the book as a guide, rather than a script to read from.

"This image shows a basic layout of how magic flows in the body, however, you need to remember that the flow will adapt to the needs of the patient. A person's magic will automatically flood to the injured area to help aid the body's physical defenses and healing," she said.

Harry nodded, doing his best to soak up everything she was telling him.

O o O o O

"Hey, Neville," Harry said, entering their dormitory and heading for his bed. Ernie and Justin were there as well, playing exploding snap on the floor. It was the afternoon, Harry had eaten lunch with Madam Pomfrey.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said, excitedly. "I just got a letter from my Gran. She's going to take me to Ollivander's this Christmas to get me a wand!"

Harry frowned, confused. "Don't you already have a wand? Are you getting a secondary?"

Neville shook his head. "No. The wand I have is my dad's, but she said she's decided I should go ahead and get my own."

Harry nodded, trying to understand. Why hadn't she taken him to Ollivander's before he got to Hogwarts? "That's good. Everyone needs a wand that has chosen them."

Neville smiled.

"So, uh, how was the infirmary?" Neville asked.

Ernie and Justin slowed their game a bit to eavesdrop.

"Well, only one person came in to see Madam Pomfrey. It was to reverse a simple hex. Anyway, we went over how magic flows through the body and how injuries affects it," Harry answered.

"Cool. So, you're going there tomorrow?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, same time, 9 am."

Just then, Smith stepped in, leaving the door slightly ajar as Harry had.

"Oh, Potter's back from making miracles," Smith stated, crossing his arms as he entered the room.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but decided to remain silent as anything he said would do nothing to appease the arrogant boy. Smith had been throwing him dirty looks all week.

"Have nothing to say?" Smith continued airily, before lowering his tone, his face scrunching slightly into a scowl. "Figures."

"Smith, what is your problem?" Justin asked, having had enough of the slightly older boy's manners.

"Oh, you must ask? I thought it was clear," he said, glancing at Justin with a sneer before refocusing on Harry. "I don't like teachers' pets. People who get everything without even really asking." He glanced at Coral whose head was peeking from Harry's sleeve.

Harry shifted his stance a little bit, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Smith was still sore about what happened in Potions?

"Smith, you need to lay off. Harry hasn't done anything to you," Ernie said, getting up from the floor and abandoning the card game.

"You people don't see it, do you? He's playing you, just like he's playing the rest of the school. The great and mighty Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived who saved us all from You-Know-Who! We should worship him! Bend over backwards to serve him! Pffftt! Pathetic."

"Leave Harry alone, he hasn't asked for any of that," Neville said, stepping up beside Harry.

"He doesn't need to," Smith practically growled. "He has everyone wrapped around his finger. I bet he's never wanted for anything in his entire life!"

Harry narrowed his eyes, no longer merely annoyed. Now he could actually feel a touch of anger growing at his center. Smith didn't know anything.

"I bet at home he doesn't even need to lift a finger to do anything, I bet the muggles are ecstatic with him being who he is," he said, watching Harry's expression closely. Smith smirked at what he saw and decided to continue along that vein. "He's got a life of luxury, no doubt, goodies and special treatment up to his ears, and he's not even a pureblood!"

"Like you, I bet?" Justin interjected sarcastically.

"My family has traced its roots back to Helga Hufflepuff herself, which is more than I can say Potter can claim. His father came from a simple line, though respected it wasn't particularly powerful. And as for his mother. . . ." Smith's eyes sharpened like a predator's, having noticed Harry's jaw clench.

Harry's green eyes drilled into Smith's pale brown, his anger now having grown into a quiet fury as, overlooked by those in the room, a few items on the bedside tables began to vibrate, ever so slightly.

"Don't," Harry stated, his voice thick with a barely restrained rage.

Smith didn't listen.

"His mother was a bloody, good-for-nothing mudblood."

Neville and Ernie gasped, as if they had just heard the most putrid word ever created. Justin blinked, a little confused. Harry, however, was just furious.

He didn't know what that word meant, but it obviously wasn't a nice one. He felt a sharp pain in his heart he had never felt before and fought to keep his emotions in check. Sure, he had been victim to verbal taunts before, especially from Dudley, but even his cousin had never broached the subject of his mother. Granted, that may have been due to Aunt Petunia banning even the briefest mention of her sister, but Dudley had never involved Harry's mother in his spoken assaults.

Harry's hands clenched into fists as Smith opened his mouth again.

Smith was on a roll and wouldn't stop willingly.

"I have to give it to her, though; she did know how to marry rich. Too bad the mudblood wasn't smart enough to prevent herself from getting killed."

"Shut up!" Harry suddenly shouted, his voice contorted slightly by the tightness in his chest, finally having had enough. He thrust his left hand forward, pointing at Smith with Coral hissing heatedly from it as every glass object in the room shattered. "I don't care what you say about me, but leave my family out of it! You know nothing!"

A sharp, magical wind whipped around Harry, his hair and robes being tossed every which way as the small tables in the room began to shake and the curtains on the bedposts slid violently along their rods away from Harry.

Smith was too stunned to move, too scared to step back, too shocked to do anything else but stare, wide-eyed as Harry stiffly lowered his arm.

And then the door to their dorm opened all the way.

"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?"

Harry didn't move. He was still too furious and he could still feel his hair being tousled about magically.

"P-professor Sprout!" Neville managed as he turned to the new voice.

There was Professor Sprout, standing just within the doorway with Cedric peering in right behind her.

Harry swallowed, his eyes still drilling into Smith's as he forced himself to relax. It wouldn't do to make anything else happen. At the Dursleys, he had had to stomach stuffing his magic back within himself quickly after an accident. Failing to do so would have dire consequences.

"Smith has a problem," Justin supplied helpfully, absolutely disgusted with the arrogant prat. "He called Harry's mum a mudblood and said some other rather cruel things."

"He what?!" Sprout questioned, abhorred.

Neville and Ernie nodded, supporting Justin's statement while Harry simply stood there, oblivious to the tears he had been unable to contain that were now pooling just below his eyes.

"I heard part of it, Professor. It's why I came to get you," Cedric said. "When I heard. . . ." He trailed off, not about to say the word his mother had forbidden him to ever say.

"Mr. Smith, what do you have to say for yourself?" Professor Sprout was no longer soft and flowery. She was a Head of House demanding answers.

Smith gulped, knowing there was no way he could get himself out of this. Why hadn't he shut the door all the way?

Sprout shook her head. "Come with me, Mr. Smith," she stated sternly before looking to Cedric. "Thank you for getting me, Mr. Diggory. I understand there were no prefects close by when it happened, and you did right by coming to me. Ten points to Hufflepuff." She then turned her attention on Harry, who had barely gotten himself back under control. He was still standing stiffly. "Mr. Potter, I'll be back to speak with you, so please do not leave the dormitories."

"Yes, ma'am," he managed, briefly turning his face to her as she looked at Neville, Ernie, and Justin.

"The same goes for the rest of you. I will also send up one of the prefects to help repair the room," she added, her eyes taking note of the broken glass and disturbed furniture. "Be careful with the glass."

"Yes, Professor," Justin said as the others nodded.

With that, Smith and Sprout left.

O o O o O

Professor Sprout shook her head as she thought about Smith.

He would be serving detention with Mr. Filch for the next four days, and then with her for the last one. She liked to make sure her Hufflepuffs had learned their lesson, personally.

She had made him recount what he had said to Harry and what the others had said, before bringing the others in to hear their side. It was a grueling hour and a half, but when it was done, she had the full account of the event and knew exactly who was at fault. Hence the five day detention.

And now she was waiting for Harry to arrive. She had asked him to come to her office after dinner to discuss what had happened that afternoon a bit further.

He clearly had a lot of power at his disposal, more than one would think possible at his age and with his home life. She supposed it was in part due to Severus' potions regimen he had him on, the boy's sleeping mage status aside.

She closed her eyes briefly, recalling what she had seen when she had first opened that door.

She had never seen such fury on a child's face before, and she had seen plenty of angry children in her life at Hogwarts. And the power pouring off of him . . . it had almost been unnatural, and yet, the magic had been so pure. But it was not simply the amount and type of magic that had caught her attention. It was the boy's control. The fact he had been able to rein it in as he had without allowing it to cause further damage was quite a feat, especially since the cause of his outburst was still in the room.

Of course, there were things Harry could have done differently to put an end to the drama without adding to it, but he was still a child, and the things Smith had said would have been hard for even an adult to shrug off. She also knew she would need to help Harry with his anger. After speaking with Neville and the others, Harry had been calm for most of the time, and then he had just snapped.

She was certain his ability to bury his emotions had been because of the Dursleys, but it wasn't healthy for the boy, and definitely did nothing to keep accidental magic from occurring when his emotions finally became too much for him to hold. She was also sure his remarkable ability to quiet his magic quickly had been due to his home life as well.

The boy certainly had potential though, and now it was time for her to guide him . . . and in more ways than just in magic.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry asked, stepping into her office while giving the door a soft knock to announce his presence.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Please, sit down."

O o O o O

Severus resisted the urge to slam his fist down on his desk angrily, but then surrendered to his feelings and brought down his closed hand firmly against the mahogany wood with a bang.

He should have acted. He should have found a way to snatch the rat, capture him, reveal him. For all the good he had been able to accomplish since he had come back, he had not been able to foresee all the consequences.

It was a backlash.

One of many that had begun cropping up since he had begun changing things.

Of course, the first few backlashes he had been able to counteract and make the events fallout as he wanted, like Voldemort taking a more active interest in Harry, probably because of his Parselmouth status coming out early. It had been why the boy's scar had begun acting up far sooner than it had in the original timeline. Thankfully, Harry had trusted him enough to come to him about his headaches and he had been able to respond accordingly. It had all been quite fortunate, now that he thought about it.

But what had caused the rat to disappear as he had? Was it the knowledge that the Dark Lord was out there? No, that didn't make sense. Pettigrew had been given enough clues to come to that conclusion long before this. No, something had been altered, something had happened differently and caused Pettigrew to risk leaving the safety of the Weasleys two years sooner than he would have.

Severus shook himself. He may never know what had triggered the change of the rat's actions, but it was clear it all stemmed back to him returning.

With a sigh, he acknowledged that he had become too confident, certain the rat would stick around for a bit longer, as he had the first time. Where had the rat gone? When had he left? As far as Severus knew, he could have vanished before Quirrell had left, which meant he could be anywhere now.

Had Pettigrew fled in fear of the Dark Lord, or had he run to him? Was he hiding or serving?

Severus didn't know which would be worse.

If he was hiding, there may be no hope of ever finding him and proving Black's innocence.

If he was serving . . . who knew what damage he could bring to the Wizarding World.

Severus closed his eyes, knowing he shouldn't dwell on the mistake he had made. He had too much to do to wallow in self-loathing. He had to focus on getting Harry ready for the future, whatever it held.