In the dark of the night, Harry dreamed, his face oddly flushed and hot with sweat, of a hidden garden with a fountain running through it and a profusion of flowers, both the comforting English roses and lilies and petunias of his childhood, but also the more exotic tropical ones, as well as honeysuckles, impatiens, rhododendrons, and many others. 

He was sitting on a stone bench carved with cherubs, bathing his face with some cool water.  He had come a long way, but now he was safe, here in the garden amid the flowers and fruit trees. He turned and found a glass of sweet guava and coconut nectar beside him and drank thirstily.  When he had finished the glass he rose to rinse it in the fountain, he felt refreshed and pleasantly sleepy.

Suddenly, the sound of feet was heard coming down the cobbled path and Harry straightened. Had his enemies found him again? But no, for coming down the path was a small child, a girl no more than five, wearing a pretty dress of gold tissue with a small ruby tiara upon her golden curls. Her plump face was pale and drawn and her blue eyes were wet with tears. She looked like a princess from out of a fairy tale, Harry thought. A princess in distress.

"Help me, please!" she wept, huge tears falling down her face. "He's after me!"

"Who's after you?" Harry cried, drawing his wand.

"A bad man. He wants to steal me away. Will you help me?"

Her eyes gazed up at him pleadingly and he couldn't resist the desperate frightened look in them.  "Yes. I'll protect you."

"Thank you!" she burst into tears.

That did it. He could never resist kids who cried. He knelt down and said, "Hey, you're okay now.  My name's Harry, don't be afraid."

She drew closer to him, her chubby arms reaching out and twining about his neck. "Hold me, Harry.  I'm so cold. Hold me tight and don't let go. It's so cold here. And I'm afraid."

"Shh." He hugged her to him and pulled his robe about her, nestling her in its folds. "I've got you, you're safe with me."

"I know. Hug me," she entreated, and put her head trustingly upon his shoulder.

He picked her up then and brought her back to the bench and sat down, cradling her close.  "It's okay, princess. I'll protect you from the bad man. What's he look like?"

The child hiccupped. Then she whispered, "You'll see." And she smiled, a fierce possessive little smile, though Harry didn't see because she had her head against his shoulder. "So easy. So very easy," she hissed, low enough that the wizard could not hear her. And then she nestled close to Harry and her blue eyes turned a bloody crimson.

Harry did not know how long he sat there holding her, it could have been anywhere from a minute to an hour, but all of a sudden she stiffened and wailed, "He's coming! I can feel him!"

"Where?"

"There!" one tiny finger pointed and Harry saw the shadow of a tall man in a black robe appear at the edge of the path. "Save me, Harry!"

"Give the girl to me, boy," the dark sorcerer rasped, wand held menacingly before him. 

"No! What do you want her for?"

"To destroy her." The other sneered, and Harry could have sworn he had seen that sneer before.

"Go to hell!" Harry cried, and then he cast Sectumsempra.

But the dark sorcerer deflected it, and laughed mockingly. "Pitiful.  Step aside, boy, and let me have her."

"No! She is under my protection, and she belongs with me." He raised his wand to cast another spell, but then felt the ground shudder and suddenly he was falling . . .

"Harry, wake up! Drink this," Severus was shaking his shoulder, and holding out a cup of something that smelled very much like coffee.

Harry blinked and opened his eyes, then started violently, jostling Severus's arm so that the hot coffee sloshed over the cup and landed on his arm.

"Harry, for the love of Merlin!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Are you hurt bad?"

"I've had worse," the Potions Master sighed. Then he handed his apprentice the cup and rubbed at his arm.

"Sorry.  I just . . .was dreaming and you were in my dream . . .sort of . . .it looked kinda like you . . ." Harry shook his head, not wanting to discuss how the dream Snape had tried to kill him and a little girl. He sipped the coffee, finding it dark and rich and it gave him a jolt of energy as soon as he swallowed.

"A nightmare?"

"No.  It was just weird, about a garden and stuff . . ." Harry shrugged, ignoring the whispered voice in the back of his mind, Save me, Harry! He's a bad man.  "Not about . . .about those inferi last night."

Severus merely nodded. "I know you didn't have nearly enough sleep last night, but we must leave soon. Hedwig says Greyback has picked up our trail. Finish that all, it has a few drops of a mild Energizing Draft in it.  It will give you energy enough to fly for about two hours before we'll need to rest." He caught Harry's pointed look and said, "Before you ask, yes I have used it as well, and no, it is not like a Stimulant Draft, it will not make you addicted or depressed.  You will need to sleep after it wears off, however."

"Okay, I'll drink it," Harry said, striving to keep the annoyance from his tone. Really, must Snape hover so, and treat him like some kind of toddling baby? He was almost sixteen, by Merlin's shorts!

He blew on the contents of the cup and drank again, finishing the mug a few minutes later.

Hedwig flew into the small culvert, hooting softly.  Hurry, hawks! That Greyback is pushing his remaining wolves awfully hard and they will be upon you soon!

Severus had the mugs and cauldron packed away in a wave of his wand and then shrunk his pack and transformed.  Harry did likewise with his bedding and changed into Freedom, catching an updraft a moment later and exploding into the sky with a satisfying screech.

Only to be scolded by Warrior.  Hush, you foolish fledgling! Or do you want to tell every living thing in a fifty foot radius that there's a red-tailed hawk about?

Freedom felt slightly ashamed of his outburst, and flicked a wing at the older goshawk in an apologetic gesture before flying northwest at a rapid pace, the potion in his blood giving him energy in spades.  Damn old fart! Always on my tail for everything.  Bet I can outfly him though!

For some reason outflying the uptight goshawk made Freedom very pleased.  Nor would Warrior be able to scold him for showing off since they were supposed to be flying quickly away from the werewolves, whose low howl of anger could be heard far below.  Bloody werewolves! Why can't you just leave us alone?

They flew straight as the crow flies for about an hour, and twice Freedom thought they had lost them, but somehow the werewolves remained on their track.  Hedwig offered to play decoy again, but Warrior refused, saying that was a trick that could be played only once and he didn't want them to separate.

Freedom reveled in the newfound swiftness and energy he had acquired, using the brisk air currents to fly faster and longer than he had ever flown before.  The wind hummed and caressed him and he felt wonderful, as if he could conquer the world.

Conquer the world? Huh? I don't want to conquer the world, just live a normal life with Severus,  Freedom thought, puzzled as to why his thoughts kept straying down paths best left unexplored. 

Do you? hissed a dark voice in his subconscious.  Do you really want to live with someone who is always scolding you for everything and never lets you do anything fun?

Freedom's wingbeat's faltered as he considered, then picked up again as he replied to himself, That's not fair, we haven't had time to have a normal summer at all, hunting these bloody dark objects.  And he only scolds when I need it.

The dark voice purred, all sweet reason, Ah. And did you deserve to be sneered and mocked all those years at school? Did you deserve to feel humiliated and angry? Don't you remember what it was like?

And then he did remember, he remembered the days when he and Severus were at odds, and potions was the class he had dreaded above all, because his teacher was out to get him, and the only thing he learned there was how to scrub a cauldron till it shone and how to dice up rat spleens and write lines.  The memory made him wince, but still he tried to push it away.

That was in the past. It was over and done with and Snape had admitted he was wrong and Harry had forgiven him.  Hadn't he?

He wants to hurt you, control you. Can't you see that?

Freedom shook his head.  No, that was wrong.  Warrior only wanted to protect him.

Not so.  He wants all the fame and glory for himself. And the recognition for destroying those objects. That's why he won't let you carry the dagger. He wants it for himself, the selfish bugger.

Freedom tried to argue back, but he kept seeing Severus's face in his mind's eye as he took the dagger from him back at the orphanage, and it had been relieved and the other had been most insistent that the dagger stay with him.

He said it could corrupt me. He was only trying to protect me.

That's what he WANTS you to think.  He only cares about protecting his own skin.

Freedom quivered.  He had used to think that way about his mentor once, before he got to know him as a person during those weeks he had spent as Severus's familiar.  What if that first impression had been right? What if Snape had his own agenda and was just using him?

Like Dumbledore did.  He lied to you too.

Severus isn't like Dumbledore. 

No? He is Dumbledore's creature . . .his spy.  He knows well the art of betrayal. Do not trust him.

Freedom felt as if he was flying through a fog, all of his thoughts were muffled in cotton, they swirled and meandered through his brain like leaves in a windstorm and he could not get a grip on them.  Confused and upset, he flew silently above a large stretch of forest-they had reached the border of Wales.

Come, Freedom.  I think it is safe to rest here for a moment, perhaps hunt a bit. Hedwig called and then she and Warrior headed down into the trees. 

Freedom followed, still confused and angry at Warrior.

He soon found there was plenty of game in the forest and caught himself a fine rabbit, which he devoured happily all by himself. For some reason he kept seeing an image of himself attacking Warrior and killing him and he quickly pushed the disturbing image aside. He was tired and wanted more sleep, that was why these disturbing images were occurring.

He carefully cleaned his talons and preened his feathers, carefully removing all traces of blood from them before he rejoined his companions resting in the branch of an oak tree. Hedwig glanced over at him fondly before she tucked her head into her chest and slept. Freedom cast her an amused look before eying the big black goshawk with his absurdly snowy chest feathers. 

Warrior had his head beneath his wing, but he lifted it when Freedom returned, chirping a soft, Had a good hunt, Freedom? Or do you need me to catch you a vole?

Warrior's comment had been teasingly meant, but it rubbed Freedom the wrong way and he snapped, For your information, I caught myself a rabbit and don't need your help.  I'm not some fluff-brained sparrow!

Warrior clicked his tongue at him.  Relax, fledgling.  You're tired and out of sorts if you're taking offense at my little joke.  Sleep.

I'm not tired.

Stay awake then. But don't come whining to me that your wings ache after only flying an hour later on. Warrior said and then turned his back pointedly and went to sleep again.

I won't. I'm old enough to know when I need to sleep and when I don't.  And I'm not even the slightest bit tired.  Not at all.  The red-tail told himself firmly, yet four seconds later his amber eyes had closed and he was dreaming again.

"Potter's been crossing lines since he came to this school," sneered Snape to Dumbledore after it had been revealed that Harry's name had been placed in the Goblet of Fire. . .

"Turn out your pockets, Potter! You were seen in Hogsmeade today where the Headmaster specifically forbade you to be.  Now turn out your pockets and let me see what you have hidden there!" Severus glowered, badgering him until he showed the professor the blank parchment that was the Marauder's Map. . .

Snape's robes swished about his ankles as he walked between the rows of cauldrons, eyeing students like a vampire eyes a tasty morsel. He stopped before Harry and looked down at the small second-year, his patented sneer in place. "Potter, what do you call this?" he dipped the stirring rod into Harry's cauldron and it came out dripping with brown gunk. "I seem to remember assigning you a Calming Draught, not swamp sludge. Did you even read the instructions, Potter, or did you just have the brilliant idea to toss everything in, stir it up, and hope for a miracle?"

"N-No, sir. I don't know what happened, sir-"

"Fortunately, I do.  Your swelled head got in the way of learning proper method and instructions and now you've lost 15 points from Gryffindor. Evanesco!"

He banished the contents of Harry's cauldron and moved on, leaving Harry glaring furiously at him. Greasy bat! The only things in your head are potion ingredients and insults.

Freedom twitched and shivered in his sleep, not liking the memories he was forced to relive, but his mind kept dredging them up until finally he woke, still cranky and out of sorts.  Sulkily, he flew off the branch and back into the open sky, ignoring Hedwig's question of how he was feeling.  He felt like bat guano, but refused to discuss anything with either of his companions, it wasn't like they could help him anyway. 

* * * * *  *

Below, the five remaining weres in Greyback's pack sniffed the air for any lingering scent of hawk, but were stymied for the moment by a cool breeze blowing from the south, which blew the scent away from their large nostrils.  They were crouched beside  the oak tree the three avians had rested in not an hour past, prowling and scratching furrows in the damp earth with their claws.

"Grrrr!" Greyback snarled, showing huge crooked canines and he reached up and left deep claws marks in the ancient tree in frustration. "How could you lose the scent after all this time, Mayhem?" He glared at a slightly smaller werewolf who had dark fur that stuck up in tufts all over him, but he was the best tracker in the pack, his nose was so sensitive he could track prey through the air.

"I . . .dunno, sir." Mayhem sniffed long and hard, there was something in the air that reminded him of . . .burnt steel, a sharp tang that made him drool upon smelling it. 

"Anything?"

"Well . . .there is something . . .but it doesn't smell like hawk."

"Then quit smelling it!" Greyback whirled and nipped Mayhem hard on the ear, drawing blood.

"Owww!" the younger were yelped, cringing and showing his throat briefly in submission.

"Ah, quit your ki-yii-ing, you big baby. That didn't hurt.  Lucius ain't paying me to lose the trail now." Greyback pointed out mercilessly, sneering as Mayhem whimpered and tried to stem the blood dripping from one ear with a cloth one of his other pack members handed him.  Lucius had been livid when Greyback had used the Portkey to return from Transylvania without either wizard or the Horcrux, and had threatened to cast the Cruiciatus Curse upon him if he didn't move his arse and fetch the two rogues back immediately. Greyback felt the tips of his ears burn as he recalled the way the aristocratic wizard had treated him.  "The Master never tolerated failure in his subordinates and neither will I. Now find them or find out just what it feels like to have your guts twisted inside out. Understood?"

Then he had given the werewolf a glare from that magicked orb of his and Greyback found himself showing his throat and agreeing to whatever the sly bastard said.  He was still smarting from Malfoy's highhandedness.  Even Voldemort had never treated Greyback like a hired dog. The Dark Lord had respected the master werewolf as a wizard should. Greyback bristled and imagined that one day he would get the arrogant lord of Malfoy Manor alone and he would teach the bugger the real meaning of pain while he ate Malfoy's liver when the man was still breathing.

The bastard's wild hawk hunt cost me half my pack, thanks to those damned wolfen. Ah, guess I can always find more children to bite and bring into the fold.  Have to find some older ones though, so they can keep up with the rest of us. Greyback licked the blood from his lips then turned and looked at Mayhem.

Mayhem sniffled, then gave a low howl of victory. "Sir, I found it! I found it!" he yipped.  Actually, the hawk scent was overridden by the odd metallic taint, but Mayhem did not say so. He had a feeling that by following that scent they would find their quarry.

The strange odor burning in the back of his throat, Mayhem sprinted off through the trees, his unnaturally long legs making quick work of the miles of terrain ahead of them.

"Bloodfang, Destruction, Doom, and Plague, fall in!" Greyback barked and the rest of the pack obeyed. 

They did not worry about being seen, because they could run so quickly that they were mere blurs and any Muggle who did catch a glimpse of them wouldn't be able to tell what he was looking at. Muggles were like sheep, they never noticed anything unless it was right under their nose.

Greyback ran with his tongue slightly hanging out, tasting the breeze.  He wished that bloody Snape was not an Animagus with wings, that way he could taste the terror and fearscent when he closed with him, the fearscent intoxicated the big werewolf almost as much as fresh blood. It was too bad that Lucius had forbade him to harm Snape or the Potter brat, for he would have loved hearing Snape scream when he ate him, one tiny bite at a time, saving the heart for last. Or better still, making the bloody traitor watch while he ate Potter first, just thinking about it caused the werewolf to salivate, and flecks of foam flew off and struck a tree as Greyback raced past.

* * * * * *

  "A wizard is born with a certain capacity to use and store magic," Severus explained as they rested briefly at mid-afternoon, they were nearly to Yorkshire now and thus far heard no sound of pursuit.  As promised, he was telling Harry about how he could cast battle magic and other magic without totally exhausting himself. "Dumbledore really ought to have a class in Magical Theory at school, you should have learned this as part of your magical studies long before." Severus rolled his eyes and sighed. "However, the old coot is a traditionalist, and would keep to the same classes offered in his time, no matter that in his time, young wizards had the benefit of magical tutors before they went to school to explain all of this, except for the Muggleborns, of course, who had to struggle through on their own, poor sods, until they received a mentor. However, I digress." Shaking his head, the Professor returned to his original topic.  "Generally speaking, the stronger you are magically, the greater reserve you have within you, it's usually proportionate to your magical strength.  However, there have been a few cases of wizards having much greater reserves than power, and these wizards could often give another wizard the power they had stored, through a mental link. They were once known as Conduits, and often served the great wizards when they undertook a major working."

"Willingly? Or were they slaves?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Most were willing, back then it was considered an honor to work with a great mage, such as Merlin or Godric Gryffindor or Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. A few, however, were made "permanent servants" as they called it, and served their master wizard or witch their whole life. It is rumored that Conduits helped shape Hogwarts and the wards about the grounds never could have been made to last so long without Conduits assisting their mage masters."

"Really?" In spite of his lassitude, Harry was starting to grow interested in this topic.  "I never read that in Hogwarts: A History."

"Humph! I am surprised you even read it at all.  Or did you simply listen while Miss Granger read the important bits to you?" Severus asked knowingly, and Harry reddened, caught out.

"Okay, I only skimmed it, but Hermione never mentioned anything about Conduits or whatever."

"That book does not contain all there is to know about the castle, Harry. The one who authored it and those who added to it later on probably felt no need to mention the role of the Conduits, since those who helped build the castle were long dead and looked upon as useful tools by most purebloods, not people."  

"But that's just . . .wrong. You mean to tell me that wizards died to make Hogwarts safe from dark magic and they aren't even listed as a footnote?"

"Yes. Have you never heard the saying-the victory writes the history? It was true then as it is now.  There is much in our world that has been hidden, buried away beneath lies and half-truths.  The more you study, Harry, the more you will find that to be true."

"How did you find out about Conduits then?"

"I read a few books on the nature of magic in the Restricted Section and talked to Argus Filch."

"Filch? But he's a Squib. What does he know about magic?"

"He may not be able to use the gift, but he knows more about theory than over half the students who have ever attended Hogwarts, including you, Mr. Potter," Snape rebuked. "Argus is the last Conduit now living at Hogwarts, a fact known only to myself and the Headmaster."

Harry gaped. "Is that why he never leaves the school?"

"Yes. He signed a contract with old Headmaster Dippet that he would remain at the school as steward and serve as Conduit to the Headmaster of the castle for as long as he lived.  And so he has, to this day. In return he is given room and board and a stipend, he can venture as far as Hogsmeade, but no further, and the Headmaster protects him from those who are prejudiced against Squibs."

"But . . .that's just . . .he's stuck there forever . . .No wonder he's such an old crab.  How could he agree to that?"

"We all do what we must, Harry, to survive. Our world is not kind to Squibs and Conduits." Severus said shortly.  "Argus figured he had to make the best of what he had, and better a place to sleep and eat and a roof over his head than living hand to mouth on the street in Diagon Alley. He chose it, Harry, he was not forced."

"Could he ever be freed?"

"Perhaps, were a new Headmaster to take over and agree to release him from his contract." Severus alluded.  "In any case, as a wizard grows older, his capacity to store magic increases in proportion to his magical ability, and so I am able to store a great deal of magic in my personal reserves, more than you are, since you are only an apprentice.  Think of your magical reserves as a kind of . . .car battery, to use a Muggle term. When you are young, you only fill the battery halfway, but as you grow older and more skilled, you can fill the battery to the fullest and tap into it as needed. But be warned, should you ever exhaust your reserves, you will be weak and ill and unable to cast spells until you recover.  But that only happens when you use magic beyond your capabilities or are in a life-threatening situation. Casting spells appropriate for your level of knowledge and power will never even touch your reserves.  Do you understand now why you were so exhausted and I was not quite as bad last night?"

Harry nodded, satisfied with the explanation, but a tiny part of him whined that it was unfair that his mentor was stronger than he was. 

You can be the master.  I can make it so, whispered that tiny voice, and harry felt a quiver run through him and he glared daggers at Severus when the older man's back was turned, resentment and jealousy surging up from some dark place deep within.  Good, because I won't ever be a slave.

Severus turned back around to suggest that they continue on, they had rested for a good hour, when once again the chilling cry of a werewolf on their track drifted through the trees and echoed off the hills.

"Damn it to hell!" Harry exploded. "How do they keep finding us? I thought you warded the dagger!"

Severus scowled, resenting being taken to task like a schoolboy by his own apprentice.  "Mind your tone, Mr. Potter.  I do not know how they keep finding our trail, but the point is moot. I cannot spend the energy right now to increase the wards, since I need to be able to fly without breaking my wings." Then he blurred into Warrior and launched himself skyward.

If he'd let me carry the dagger, I could ward it better, Freedom thought angrily.  But no, he treats me like a sodding baby or an idiot.  His need to hold the dagger was growing with every passing minute, until he felt like stooping down on Warrior and tearing his feathers out until he agreed to let him hold it. 

An instant later, he was horrified, and a part of him, the part that was still Harry Potter, was babbling, What the hell is wrong with me? I don't want to hurt Warrior. Why do I feel so . . .disconnected . . .so angry . . .everything's in a mist . . .

But his weak protest was drowned out by the surge of anger and resentment and somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a little child laughing Fooled you, he fooled you, can't ever trust a wizard, never ever.

Freedom flew harder, pushing himself till his wing muscles burned and ached with fatigue, unsure if he was trying to outfly the werewolves on the ground or the voice within that encouraged him to hate and fear his mentor.      

The werewolves pursued them relentlessly, seemingly able to run without ever growing tired, and the grueling pace was beginning to tell upon all of them, even the veteran post owl.  Warrior could tell the stress of the chase was wearing on the young red-tail, for Freedom was flying erratically and yet when the older raptors offered to let him rest upon their wings for a brief time, he irritably snapped that he could manage on his own and rebuffed them. 

Warrior was tempted to give him a nip for his insolence, but restrained himself, recalling how touchy he had been at that age, and how anxious he was to be seen as capable of fending for himself.  Adolescents are so touchy at that age, and he's under more pressure than any adolescent I know.  Still, when this is finished, I shall make it clear to him that at home, that kind of attitude will not be tolerated. The goshawk gazed down and saw, to his dismay, five werewolves leaping through the tall moor grass.  You will be hunted on all sides, until the end is nigh . . . a fragment of Trelawney's prophecy floated through his head and he huffed and forced his wings to beat faster.  Of all the times for the Seer to be right, why did it have to be now?