The Headmaster removed his glasses once Minerva had left his office. There was really too much going on to keep straight. Even with the help of his pensieve, he was finding it difficult to fight back the forming headache as he tried to organize it all and determine what options he had and which he should choose.

The fact someone was actively trying to kill Harry troubled him greatly, more so than knowing Voldemort had it in for the boy. At least he knew Voldemort and knew what to expect, more or less. But this . . . assassin, he didn't know anything about them, only that they were quite adept at sneaking around and knew how to get into one of the most well protected places in the Ministry. Granted, that was hardly miraculous, but still, to do so without anyone having proof of their actions . . . it was frightening.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, once again recalling the moment he had learned Harry had been attacked right in the walls of Hogwarts and in the middle of the Great Hall. His heart still clenched from the memory. If it hadn't been for Severus. . . .

He sighed. There was another thing he was having trouble wrapping around his mind. Severus' ability in halting the curse, though very fortunate, was . . . disturbing. Very few had such a grasp on dark magic to manipulate it in such a way, and for him to be able to quell the mass of horrid magic meant the man's magic was, to a certain degree, attune to such malicious power. It was very troubling, to say the least. When had he obtained such dark, magical intuition?

Ever since he had turned from Voldemort, Albus had kept a close eye on Severus, for his own good, and for the safety of everyone around him, including the students and the rest of his staff. Dark magic was a very dangerous trap, it could get nearly anyone addicted, and very often it took them beyond the point of no return if they did not have someone beside them pulling them back every so often. Dumbledore had hoped he would be able to be this person for Severus, but it seemed he had failed somehow; though, it seemed Severus had a handle on it, for which Albus was grateful.  

But the question remained, where, when and how had Severus gained such strength and power over that which would corrupt and dominate lesser men?

He supposed he could have obtained some of it during the summers. There were times in which the young man would disappear for days on end. Until now, Dumbledore had been certain it was the way Severus prepared himself for the next school year, like a mini-vacation. Of course, Severus had never called it that, but that was what Albus had assumed it was, after all, what else could it be? But now, he was not so sure.

Dumbledore shook himself. Even if what he now suspected was true, there was nothing he could do about it now. Besides, it seemed the younger man had it well in hand - he always did have an unusually strong grasp on dark magic - and it had certainly come to good use, so he couldn't really say anything against it now.

The Headmaster decided to refocus on more recent events, which were equally, if not more, unnerving.

Lucius Malfoy had brought Severus disturbing information. Dumbledore had no reason not to believe the man. Not only because of the life debt but because everything he had told Severus fit, and, after digging around on his own, he completely agreed with the blond pureblood. Something untowardly was going on in the Ministry, and it definitely led him to believe someone, or a group of individuals, had gained access to the Forbidden Library. Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing how much access they had gained, or for how long. He would have to assume Lucius had been right in his estimate, though, as he had been correct in the other things, it stood to reason he had been right in that as well.

Why would someone take so much time and trouble to obtain such a curse? There were other curses one could have used to send through in Manx parchment. Though, nothing as rare and difficult to destroy.

And there it was. That was the reason. All of the other spells Dumbledore knew of, dark and light, that could be attached to a letter and prove dangerous to the opener could be countered by most knowledgeable healers. Only this curse reacted contrary to what one would think, and often persisted until the victim's demise. Whoever had sent Harry that cursed letter truly wanted him to suffer and perish, and the fact they had targeted his hands was not missed by Dumbledore either. Just as they had placed the ICW seal on the letter, it was clear they liked sending underlying messages. Which told Albus something else about them. They were likely very intelligent and liked playing mind games.

Well, he had of course alerted certain individuals to his suspicions concerning the Forbidden Library, specifically Madam Bones, Alastor, and Kingsley. He left Lucius' involvement out of it. It would not do if whoever was after Harry discovered Lucius was on to them.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, his mind going to the events the day before.

Professor Sprout had contacted Smith's parents, and they would be coming down for a meeting in her office later that week. Besides that, Pomona had taken fifty points from Hufflepuff because of Smith's actions against Draco. The fact he had inadvertently harmed Harry was not put into account. That could be argued as an accident, no matter how deadly it could have become.

But the truth remained that Smith despised Harry.

It was rare that a student would be so malicious toward another member of their own house. It was actually nearly unheard of, and the fact that it was happening in Hufflepuff, arguably the most loyal house. . . . Albus knew it was a bit embarrassing for Pomona, as well as the rest of the Hufflepuffs.

He knew a number of students would be shocked Smith would not be expelled, particularly since his actions had almost killed someone. But it all had to be looked at objectively, and ultimately Smith's actions had been childish and done out of anger. If every student who behaved in such a way was expelled, he daresay at least a quarter of the student body would be gone before their third year.

However, Smith's actions would not go unpunished. Far from it.

As with all serious offences, the punishment was decided by the student's head of house, and so it came down to Pomona to decide Smith's punishment. On top of contacting his parents and removing fifty points, Pomona had assigned him a week of detention with her and a type of probation period that would last for two weeks. He would not be able to leave the Hufflepuff common rooms except for classes and meal times. If and when he had to go to detention, the infirmary or the library for any reason, he would need to be escorted by a prefect. Also, at all times, Pomona would know where he was. This would be done through house elves and prefects.

Oh, yes, for the next two weeks, Smith would have a very boring and restricted existence.

Albus only hoped it would wake the boy up and not make him become even more hateful.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, his thoughts fell to Harry.

The boy was advancing in magic faster than they had first anticipated when they had learned about him being a slumbering mage; although, his advancement was more out of necessity than actual conscious practice. He was proud of the boy, but also worried. Would they be able to provide the instruction he needed when his magical prowess continued to mature? Since his return to the wizarding world, Harry's abilities had developed leaps and bounds beyond his first expectations, and he had already expected a fair deal initially.

The lad was already ahead of where Albus had been at his age; granted, having parselmagic did certainly give one an advantage, but even excluding that, his knowledge was beyond most of his peers. For right now, the only person who could give him a run for his money was Hermione Granger. He was truly amazed the girl hadn't ended up in Ravenclaw.

He refocused.

Harry's hands had once again escaped critical harm; though, like last time, they were not left unscathed.

The only consolation was that his bones had been completely mended by whatever Harry had done. According to Pomfrey and Severus, Harry had smashed the curse with his magic, smothering and completely obliterating it before it was able to respond to his magic and carry out the terrible reaction. Thus, Severus believed much of the magic and physical compounds left over from the destroyed curse had reverted back to the form it had been originally. It seemed that the reaction that had created the fire had been reversed by Harry's actions. The downside was that his nerves had been damaged in the process. The overwhelming surge of magic had acted much like a cruciatus curse. 

Albus shook his head.

To compare the damage, a healer examining Harry without knowing what had happened would think the boy's arms - and only his arms - had suffered under the cruciatus for nearly a full minute without any pauses. It was not untreatable, but certainly not something one would wish on anyone, least of all a child.

Well, Severus had already set to work making the necessary potions, and, with any luck, Harry would be back to his old self by the end of the month at the latest.

O o O o O

Harry looked down at his hands and slowly closed them into fists. They were doing much better today. His fingers would still give an occasional twitch, but the involuntary spasms that had been prevalent the day after he had destroyed the curse were becoming rare now - thankfully. At first, he had been afraid of using his wand, in case a spell would go badly and make a buffalo land on him like it had that one fellow he had learned about.

He shook his hands out, happy the slight tingling sensation on his ring and pinky fingers was almost completely gone.

It had been nearly a week and a half since he had gotten his bones back. Professor Snape's potions seemed to be working well, and the potions master told him he was confident his hands would be back to normal in a few days. Harry was ecstatic. Although things were not as difficult as they had been when his hands were wrapped, he was looking forward to things going back to normal, and, who knew, maybe Professor Sprout would be able to begin giving him those lessons.

As for the individual responsible for his current state, Smith was practically a ghost now.

He had completely ostracized himself after lashing out at Malfoy. No one would willingly interact with him now, and even the prefects who were obligated to escort him to the library and such rarely spoke to him. It was clear they were quite displeased with him. Lost points aside, what truly irked them was how his attitude and actions had reflected poorly on their house. Hufflepuff was supposed to be the house of friendship and loyalty, not hatred and jealousy. Part of Harry actually felt sorry for Smith, but he had brought it on himself.

Smith's detentions with Sprout had ended, but he was still on a sort of house arrest. He still had a few days of it until he would be ‘free' again, and hopefully he had learned his lesson. Only time would tell.

O o O o O

"Very good, Harry," Professor Sprout said with a smile as the tip of Harry's wand gave a slight glow.

He had been learning to cast a Lumos silently for the past few weeks. This had been the first time he had succeeded. Professor Sprout told him this was one of the best ways to train his magic to respond to his will and allow him to begin consciously controlling his magic outside his body (parselmagic excluded), with and without his wand.

His lessons with Professor Sprout were now every Friday during the free hour he had between his classes. At first, he had been a little disappointed in only having one day a week with her, but quickly changed his mind when he realized how much work he had from his other classes, on top of still helping Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing and learning from her. In the end, Harry acknowledged the need for him to have some down time, particularly with his friends.

He and Neville had, for the moment, given up on their research. Besides it being all a bit over their heads, the books they had access to didn't provide enough detail to fill in the massive gaps they were missing in medical knowledge - or at least that's how Harry felt. He had learned enough from his old muggle school to know that there was a bit more to the heart than it simply being a muscle that pumped blood. It had passageways, chambers, valves, and a network tied to the lungs to oxygenate the blood and send it back out to the rest of the body. For some reason, the books didn't go into the specifics like that, and though a paragraph or two would comment on what organs did, they would never detail how.

And Harry knew, if he was ever going to be able to help the Longbottoms, he would need to know a bit more about the nervous system than things like ‘nerves are important, they send signals to the brain.' Well, duh.

In place of research, Harry had taken to teaching Neville. For a few hours a week, they put aside time to do the exercises Professor Sprout had taught Harry the previous Friday. It was helpful to Harry, as he had someone to practice with, and Neville was happy to learn another way to improve his magic abilities. Perhaps then his grandmother would not think so little of him.

Within the following month, the Ministry had begun distributing the vaccine among the population wishing to accept it, and a vast amount of werewolves had already received it. It was very likely Remus Lupin's words on the matter comforted many hesitant individuals unsure of the validity of the cure-through-blood-transfusion. He had agreed to be interviewed by a reporter from the Prophet by the name of Mark Carneirus the day after it had been verified he had been cured. Carefully monitoring the blood donations from former werewolves and those with the immunity, the Ministry was confident the werewolf population within England would drop well over 300 percent before the beginning of summer.

It was certainly good news, and the public was happy to hear the existence of werewolves may soon be a thing of the past. The Minister, of course, ate up the good press and basked in the glow of the historic moment. Harry was fine with the man doing that. The more attention he had, the less Harry had to deal with - though, of course, Harry's name was mentioned extensively within every article concerning the cure and white magic, but at least he was not being hounded by reporters.

"I think you'll have this spell down before classes end this term," Professor Sprout said as Harry smiled. "Casting silently is difficult to master, and though it isn't unheard of witches and wizards silently casting under stress, it's very hard to do successfully when one has never practiced it before, even with adrenaline."

"So, when would silent casting be good to have, exactly?" Harry asked.

"Well, Professor Flitwick would probably be the best to ask that to, but silent casting is mostly used in wizard duels. It makes it more difficult for your opponent if they don't know what spell is coming at them. Of course, some spells can be identified on sight, but not all."

Harry's eyebrows lifted slightly. "So, you could learn to cast any spell silently?"

"I suppose it's possible, but some spells are very difficult to successfully cast even when said out loud. Words are very important to the control of magic. With words come focus, intent, and power. You will always be able to make your spoken spells stronger than your silent ones. With your voice comes emotion, and emotion influences magic a great deal, more than anything else can. From what I understand of your parselmagic, this is especially so."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Besides speaking in parseltongue, it's really just about feeling and intent. As long as the words match that, it should work - well, while guiding the magic of course," Harry said with a shrug.

Professor Sprout gave a soft smile, wondering if he knew how amazing his abilities really were.

"Have you done anything other than healing with parselmagic?" she asked, curious.

"No, not yet. I've read the things that were in ‘The Art of Parsel' concerning protective magic, but it's different from the healing aspect of parselmagic and I want to have more control before I try anything with it. The book warned that you could hurt yourself if you don't know how to deal with it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't exactly understand it all yet, but the book said it's like building a castle.  If you build the walls wrong, it could fall in on you. You have to place the stones correctly."

"I see. Wards are much the same way; it's why the Headmaster is going to wait until the summer to strengthen the wards here. The magic on the grounds must be completely calm, and having hundreds of students about is not conducive to that," she said lightly.

Harry was about to ask more about wards, but, before he could, a white hot pain erupted from his scar and a feeling of dark elation flashed within it. With a pained hiss, his right hand flew up to his forehead and he stumbled back into the desk behind him.

"Harry? !" Professor Sprout asked, instantly by his side.

And then, just like that, it was gone, though there was a lingering soreness at his scar and an odd sense that something was coming together.

"What's wrong?" she asked again as he slowly looked up at her.

"I don't know. My scar just suddenly felt like it was burning."

"How does it feel now?" she asked, her eyes looking at it when he lowered his hand a little.

"It's just a little sore now," he said, rubbing it. "It's never felt like that before. With Quirrell, it would slowly build up to that, not suddenly flash. Does . . . does it mean Voldemort is close or something?"

"Let's go see the Headmaster. Perhaps he will know what is going on," she said, already guiding him toward the door.

She clearly wasn't going to fool around with this, and Harry was glad for it. Even now, it was strange to have teachers who actually paid attention to him and were so quick to help. At his old muggle school, he was lucky if he even received a smile.

Walking beside Professor Sprout, they made it to the entrance of Dumbledore's office.

"Sherbet ice cream," Sprout stated, causing the gargoyle to move aside.

O o O o O

Albus looked up from his desk, a bit surprised to learn who was at the door, but he kept his face unsurprised and cheerfully called them in. Perhaps today one of his staff would accept a lemon drop!

"Oh, hello, Harry, Pomona," he greeted. "Lemon drop?"

"No thanks, Headmaster," Pomona answered quickly, already motioning for Harry to come in front of her.

Harry looked up at her, a little uncertain of how to begin.

"Is something the matter?" Dumbledore shifted forward a bit, quickly becoming serious and wanting to know what was going on, lemon drops temporarily forgotten.

"Harry and I were in my office a little bit ago, and while we were talking, he suffered a brief but intense bout of pain in his scar. As the last time this happened, You-kn- . . . Voldemort was near, I decided it would be best to immediately come to you," she said.

Albus stood up and came around the desk and stopped in front of Harry.

This was definitely troubling, but surely Voldemort wasn't still somewhere in the castle. . . . Dumbledore frowned, trying to figure out why Harry's scar would act up when, to his knowledge, Voldemort was gone. After that brief confrontation in the forest before Christmas, Albus was fairly certain he had forced him away, as he hadn't been able to detect Tom's presence again. However, the fact Riddle had been capable of using magic against him like that had been alarming and he wasn't about to put his guard down. He wasn't sure how Voldemort had been able to explode the clearing, but couldn't help but fear Tom had found another willing host or had taken enough magic from Quirrell to temporarily ‘manifest' himself into a physical being. Either possibility was worrying, but he hoped, whichever the case, Tom would not be bothering Harry again anytime soon.

"What did you feel exactly when it happened?" Dumbledore asked, motioning Harry to take a seat across his desk.

"Well, sudden pain and . . . I don't know, excitement, maybe?" Harry said uncertainly as he sat down.

"Excitement?" Sprout asked, confusion clear in her voice.

"It was weird. It was like I learned something good was coming, and I couldn't wait for it to happen. It was only there for a second, but. . . ." Harry shook his head. "I don't know, maybe I imagined it. My scar was very hot, and it startled me. I don't understand where the feeling came from or why I felt it. I'm not exactly sure now what I felt, but I felt . . . something."

Albus frowned, a disturbing theory rising up in his mind.

There had never been a scar like Harry's before. It made sense that there would be unexpected and unforeseen consequences with it.

"Headmaster?" Pomona asked, looking up at him and finding his eyes holding a grim and troubled light.

"Harry, from the moment I saw your scar, I knew it would be unlike any scar in existence," Dumbledore said softly, kneeling down beside Harry's chair. He really didn't want to tell Harry his theory, but, recalling what the sorting hat had told him and knowing he couldn't not tell him now, he gathered himself and continued. "I have a theory, no more than that. It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong emotion."

Harry swallowed. "Professor Snape told me my scar is sensitive to Voldemort's magic because it was created by him, and that's why it hurts when he's close - but there's actually more to it than that?"

"You and he are connected by a curse that failed. Such things have happened in the past, but never with such a dark curse. Never with a curse meant to instantly kill. If I am not mistaken, Harry, he unintentionally forged a deep bond between himself and you that night. To cast the killing curse, one must saturate their mind and heart with hatred and an intent to kill so potent that it is the only thing they are aware of in that instant."

"That must be a lot of hate," Harry whispered, conscious of Professor Sprout stepping to the other side of his chair.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, and that is why I think this bond formed. His hatred for you had touched you while it was still connected to him, while his focus was still completely on his intent, and when the curse failed and returned back to him, I believe that connection was never severed."

O o O o O

Neville slowly sat down beside Harry. They were by the lake, and it was Sunday. The snow had long since melted and Spring had finally begun.

 "Hey, Neville," Harry said softly.

"Hey."

Harry had already told him what he had learned from Dumbledore. Neville turned his eyes to the lake, wondering how Harry could appear so calm about it. If it was him, he'd have locked himself in an empty room and cried.

"I'm okay," Harry whispered after a long silence.

Neville returned his gaze to Harry, amazed to find his friend's unwavering eyes staring right back at him, but he knew Harry was not alright, despite his brave front.

"No, you're not," Neville stated, part of him appalled he had just blurted that, but he knew he was right as Harry looked away and closed his eyes. "But I know you will be," he added softly.

After a moment, Harry slowly nodded, his shoulders no longer slouching as he focused his eyes across the lake.

"I hate him, Neville," Harry stated, his voice so tight it sounded as if it might break. "I hate him, and the thought that I can feel. . . ." He swallowed thickly. "This connection will not last forever. I will make sure of it. Someday, I will finish the job that reflected curse started." Harry looked back at Neville. "He won't kill anyone ever again, not if I can stop it."

Neville didn't break eye contact as he nodded stiffly. "And I will help you."

Harry looked back across the water and gave a soft smile. "I know."

O o O o O

With less than three months left of classes, the professors were really beginning to pile on the assignments, which caused Harry and Neville to claim the far corner table in the library. It was the late afternoon and the library was beginning to empty, as dinner was approaching.

"I've gotta go back to the common room before dinner. I promised Hannah I would. Later," Susan said.

"Okay, bye, Susan," Harry said as she gathered her things and headed out.

Harry put down his book and retrieved his transfiguration homework to check something. He rubbed his scar with his free hand.

His scar had stubbornly been aching on and off since the previous week. It had gotten to the point that it was more an annoyance than anything else. Professor Sprout said to come to her if it suddenly changed or got worse, but unfortunately there was nothing anyone could really do at the moment to stop the pain.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said, glancing around and noticing they were alone.

"Yeah?"

"You think you could show me again what Professor Sprout taught you Friday?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, quickly putting away his things. He had just about finished anyway and wanted a break. "Okay, so what you want to do is get your silent lumos to work, and then hold it. Once you have that down, you fluctuate the magic you let into your wand, so the light at the tip blinks."

Neville nodded, pulling out his wand as Harry followed suit.

Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds and then reopened them. A second later, narrowing his eyes in concentration, the tip of his wand lit up. Coral lifted her head out of his sleeve a bit as the light began to flicker, blinking on and off, but Harry couldn't remain focused and the wand tip went out and remained dark.

"It's a bit harder than it sounds, but Professor Sprout said it helps teach our magic to maintain spells for a longer period of time and while we're distracted. Go on and try it, Neville," Harry said with a shrug.

Neville nodded, scrunching up eyebrows and focusing. Blinking several times, his eyes fixated at the tip of his wand, before it slowly began to glow. Beaming triumphantly, Neville unfortunately lost his concentration and it dimmed before completely going out.

He sighed.

"You'll get it, Neville," Harry encouraged. "A few weeks ago you couldn't even get it lit."

"Yeah, that's true," he said, before concentrating again.

Harry smiled, before trying it again himself.

"Hey, look!" Neville said, forgetting he was in the library, but, oddly, Madam Pince didn't come and hush them.

"Very good, Neville," Harry said, watching as Neville had been able to silently make his wand's light flicker for a five seconds. "Hey, let's try to match each other's blinks."

"Okay," Neville said excitedly.

Harry smiled, amused by Neville's enthusiasm.

:Hey, Harry, are you two planning on going to dinner any time soon?: Coral interrupted.

:Huh?:

:I think dinner has started: she stated. If snakes could smirk, she would be.

"Neville, I think we're late for dinner," Harry said, hurriedly standing up. "No wonder it's so quiet in here now."

"What? How-oh, oops. I guess we got distracted," Neville said, stuffing his wand up his sleeve to his holster and quickly gathering his things.

"Good thing we were already planning on carrying our things with us to the Great Hall. We'd miss half of the feast if we had to go back to the common room," Harry said, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Neville agreed, before dashing out of the library beside Harry, happy Madam Pince wasn't there to tell them to slow down.

Jogging down the corridors, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by how quiet the castle was. It was strange to know everyone was at dinner and it was only him and Neville out in the halls.

"You think we'll be in trouble with Professor Sprout?" Neville asked worriedly.

"No, it was an accident that we lost track of time. Besides, it's not like we're missing the entire meal," Harry said, going around a corner - only to come to a dead stop.

"Oooph!" Neville couldn't help but gasp as he ran right into Harry's outstretched arm which had shot out the second he had come around the bend.

"Don't move . . ." Harry breathed.

And Neville instantly obeyed, for there was a humungous scaly thing blocking the entire corridor in front of them.

A dragon.

For a long moment, it didn't seem to notice them. It was too concerned with dislodging its wing from the corner of the ceiling where it was pinned. It squirmed about, its hard scales grinding up against the stone walls and causing the stones to crack and crumble. Turning its head, trying to shift its way free, it suddenly noticed Harry and Neville. It froze.

:Aww, she's only a baby . . . : Coral hissed sadly, as if she was seeing an adorable little puppy instead of a giant, fire breathing reptile.

:A baby?: Harry asked, astonished, staring up at the creature whose body was touching all sides of the hall and likely covered the whole length of it beyond where they could see.

How could this be a baby?

Though, now that Coral mentioned it, she, the dragon, did look a bit disproportioned like a baby. Her wings seemed too small for her body (though they were still huge), and her large eyes gave her an adorable look (if one ignored the dangerous claws, teeth, and spikes).

"Harry?" Neville whispered, terrified. "What should we do?"

"Not sure yet," Harry admitted very quietly, keeping his eyes locked on the dragon. "Coral says she's a baby dragon."

"Baby dragons are not this big," he answered, their voices so quiet they sounded more like scratches on a wall.

:Comfort her, Harry: Coral urged, obviously pained by seeing the young dragon's discomfort.

:How?: Harry asked rather loudly.

He had no idea how to comfort baby dragons!

But Coral didn't answer as the dragon suddenly moved her head closer to them, her long neck curving down as Harry's hissed question echoed around them.

Harry held his breath, wondering how fast fire could kill. Perhaps if he pulled Neville and himself back around the corner they would be safe from any flames?

But she didn't breathe any fire; instead, she looked at them curiously, particularly Harry.

"Hello," Harry said uneasily, but that caused her to rear back suddenly and defensively.

:No, no, Harry, speak parseltongue: Coral advised quietly in his sleeve.

Harry kept his arms down and his hands visible, keeping his eyes locked with the dragon's. Shouldn't he and Neville be running?

:Hello, please don't hurt us: Harry said, a bit unsure of what to say.

Would she be able to understand?

Well, it didn't look like she understood, but she did respond to Harry's voice by easing her head back down, becoming curious again. Harry was beginning to believe Coral was right. Only a very young creature would act like this.

Harry motioned Neville with his hand to stay where he was.

:Well, I suppose I'll just keep on talking: Harry said, allowing his voice to grow louder and echo around the corner and down the hall behind them. The dragon seemed to like that and grew calmer.

Harry glanced at the walls with her scaly body pressed up against them. That couldn't be comfortable, and that also raised an interesting question. How in the world did she get here? The doors were not big enough and certain corridors were too narrow and low to allow her passage. Strange.

:You're stuck pretty good, aren't you?: Harry asked, before tentatively taking a small step forward. :We're not going to hurt you: he soothed, earning a low growl from her as he approached, but it wasn't exactly a threatening one, and it wasn't even a real growl. It was more like a dragon moan. A whimper.

:She's injured herself: Coral stated.

Harry nodded in agreement. :Should we go get help?:

:We can't leave her alone, she might hurt herself more: Coral answered.

Fighting back a sigh, Harry refocused. :I'm going to come closer, alright? I'm going to see if I can help you. So no fire please, and no biting: he said.

His only answer was the cocking of her head, as if she was wondering what to do with him. Harry hoped she wasn't thinking about food.

"Harry?" Neville asked worriedly, remaining by the corner.

Harry glanced back. "It's alright. I don't think she's aggressive."

:Careful, Harry: Coral said, having watched how the dragon tensed slightly when she heard English.

:It's alright, I was just talking to my friend, Neville: he said, motioning to Neville and trying to make it clear Neville was friendly.

That seemed to appease her, but she then shifted again to try to get comfortable, only to break off a chunk of the ceiling's decorative crown molding with her pinned wing. The hunk of stone plummeted down, shattering on the floor and narrowly missing the dragon's neck.

The dragon swung her head wildly and nearly struck Harry with her stubby horns on her head.

"Look out, Harry!" Neville shouted, stumbling forward as shattered rock peppered the hall.

Harry dived backward, feeling a number of small stones shower his arm, neck and shoulder as he twisted about. The dragon gave a strangled and frightened rumble as the sound of the granite shards resonated around them.

Then it was over.

Harry sat up as Neville knelt beside him. Both breathing heavily, they looked to the dragon who was now resting her head on the floor. Harry shifted forward and crawled the five or so feet to her.

She looked at him, too hurt and tired to really move any more, though she still tried.

:Shhh, don't move: Harry said, approaching her large head, which could probably swallow him whole without too much difficulty if she had the energy.

She gave the pitiful whimpering sound again before Harry placed his hand on the side of her nose. At his contact, she grew silent and still.

Harry didn't know why, perhaps it was because he didn't know what else to do or because the hall had grown too quiet, but he began humming. He didn't really know the words to the song, but it was a melody he had learned at school. It was some sort of lullaby, and he had some times hummed it to himself when he was locked in his cupboard. It was a slow, comforting tune, and he could hum it quietly enough not to bother the Dursleys.

Neville quickly caught on and joined in his humming as Harry slid forward, moving by her neck to make sure the rock had actually missed. He glanced at Neville and nodded at him to continue humming as the dragon closed her eyes.

Harry allowed his magic to move down to his left hand, and, with Coral, he assessed the dragon's injuries. Only Neville was humming now, but the dragon didn't seem to mind. Harry couldn't help but frown as he felt an odd sort of magic covering her. It reminded him a bit of the hexes that students would come in with sometimes, only, this wasn't a hex, it was . . . a charm? As for her injuries, they weren't serious, so he focused on figuring out what to do with the charm.

:Cancel it: Coral stated. :Maybe it's what's made her so big:

Harry had watched Madam Pomfrey cancel hexes and other spells on students, of course, but for the life of him he couldn't remember the incantation. However, he decided that wasn't a problem. He'd lifted curses, why not charms or other spells?

Well, here goes nothing, Harry thought, preparing his magic.

:Spell, be canceled:

O o O o O

The feast, as always, was delicious, but Pomona was distracted.

Where were Harry and Neville? They normally sat near Susan, Justin and Ernie, but they weren't there, in fact, unless she was blind, they were not even in the Great Hall.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time a student or two had skipped dinner, and knowing Harry and Neville, they had likely taken advantage of the empty common room and were practicing the silent lumos.

She turned her eyes away from the Hufflepuff table and looked to Filius who was saying something to Minerva. However, she wasn't able to hear Minerva's reply because Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost, came barreling through the doors of the Great Hall.

"Headmaster, there's a giant dragon near the library, fourth floor!" he shouted.

And the Great Hall promptly fell into chaos.

Only for it to be utterly smashed by Dumbledore as he stood up and roared, "SILENCE!"

He hadn't even used his wand.

He then turned and glanced at Severus, Hagrid, Remus, and Filius, making it clear he had selected them to accompany him. He then spoke softly to Minerva.

"Seal the Great Hall behind us. I will send a patronus once it is safe," he said, barely being overheard by Pomona.

As Filius moved to follow Albus and the others, Pomona leaned toward him.

"Harry and Neville are not in the Great Hall. Find them," she said quickly.

Filius looked back at her, startled by the news. "We will find them, Pomona," he promised.

With that, the five professors hurried out, leaving the other professors with the rest of the students. McGonagall sealed the Great Hall the moment they were out.

O o O o O

Severus and the others hurried toward the library, but on the second floor, the Headmaster grabbed Severus' arm.

"The wards on the third floor have been breached," Dumbledore stated.

"Find that dragon, I'll investigate the breach," Severus stated, already turning to go the fastest route to the forbidden, third floor corridor.

With a nod, Dumbledore and the others continued on.

Wand in hand, Severus ran. Although the real stone was not in danger, it would not do to make it appear that way. And who knew, perhaps this wasn't Voldemort, but some other thief who had somehow learned about the stone being within Hogwarts. They had certainly come up with an interesting distraction.

Coming to the doors, he could tell Fluffy was agitated. Well, that likely meant the thief had gotten past. Waving his wand, he conjured a magic flute, playing a soft lazy tune. Cracking the door open, he let the music work, allowing him to go down through the trapdoor without incident.

It did make Severus wonder how the thief had gotten past so quickly without leaving any blood behind though, as it was clear Fluffy had not been put to sleep by them.

Going past the other defenses was a breeze, though Remus' had not been what he had expected.

Entering the room, he could quickly tell the person before him had simply blasted their way through, as shards of weapons were everywhere. Perhaps they had been charmed to attack intruders?

Moving further into the room and toward the door that led to Dumbledore's ‘final' protection, he heard an odd sound to his left.

Turning, and lifting his wand slightly, his heart couldn't help but clench tightly in his chest at the sight before him.

On the floor was the rune network Harry had made to send him back, and, kneeling at the edge, finishing it, was . . . Harry.

Not the young man he had grown into, but as he was now. A first year, innocent and unburdened by the turmoil of war. Severus could even see Coral around his small wrist as he etched the rest of the network into the floor.

Severus held his breath, recognizing this was somehow part of the protection Remus had placed, but at the moment too shaken to care.

Suddenly, the ‘phantom' Harry stopped and looked up at him.

He smiled. "Will I have to die and send you back again?"

"Riddikulus!"

The boggart fled, and Severus swiftly conjured a cabinet and slammed it in there.

Calming his raging heart, for the appearance of the boggart had admittedly taken him by surprise, Severus forced himself to calm.

It was only a boggart, playing on your doubts and fears, he told himself furiously. It was not an omen of coming failure. Harry would not have sent you back for that!

Severus refocused, forcing down the chill that had risen inside him. After all, there was an intruder, and he had to catch them, whoever they were. He could not afford to be distracted.

Adequately collected now, Severus moved toward the door leading to the final chamber where the Mirror of Erised resided. Crossing the threshold, Severus felt the faintest trace of a detection ward. It had not been placed by Dumbledore. He pressed on.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, he found a cloaked figure standing in front of the mirror. The stout man was standing straight and stiff, as if he was very important.

"Ah, Severus. How fortunate it was you the old man sent," the man stated.

His voice was slightly garbled, as if layered over another voice.

Severus felt his mark warm slightly and his eyes widened.

Thinking quickly, Severus selected a course of action.

"My Lord," he answered, bowing his head submissively.

"Yes, Severus, it is I," Voldemort answered, turning around.

Severus risked a glance up with his eyes, but kept his head bowed and his wand down, no matter how much he wished to curse the being before him. With his glance, he could not see Voldemort's face. His hood obscured it, as it seemed to be spelled; however, he could see two glaring red eyes glowing through the darkness within the hood.

"Come to me, Severus, aid your master," he said.

Severus went down the stairs, trying to identify the voice Voldemort's was overlapping. It sounded familiar. Very familiar. And then it clicked.

Pettigrew.

With his mind occluded, he kept his gaze away from the surface of the mirror and hoped he would be able to keep all emotion from his voice.

"Retrieve the stone for me, Severus."

Severus swallowed. "Master, the stone is not here."

The temperature in the room plummeted, and Severus' hand tightened around his wand.

"Do you know where it is hidden, then?" Voldemort asked dangerously.

"Dumbledore did not tell anyone where he hid it," Severus lied. "But he did tell me he placed it under a Fidelius."

"And who is the secret keeper?"

"Dumbledore, my Lord."

Severus could feel Voldemort's rage growing, his magic suffocating the room. Furiously, Voldemort sent a blasting hex at the mirror, shattering it spectacularly as it was slammed into the back wall.

"Then this course is closed to me. I will go another route," he stated.

"My Lord, do you need assistance leaving the castle? I can misguide Dumbledore and the others away," Severus suggested, sounding as helpful and as willing as he could while he tried to determine what he should do now.

"That will not be necessary, my loyal spy. You must continue to act as you have to keep the old man fooled." Voldemort's wand fell from his sleeve and into his right hand.

"My Lord?"

"Duel me, Severus, or has the ten years of teaching snot-nosed brats softened you?" he asked, before leaping back and firing a diffindo at him.

Severus deflected it instinctively.

"Good good, Severus. I see you have kept your reflexes. But have you kept your power? Crucio! Incendio! Sectumsempra!"

Severus dodged and deflected them all.

"Come now, Severus, surely you can send something back? It would be suspicious if only my spells marked the walls. Show me my spy is still the best of my servants!"

At that, Severus returned fire.

Mindful of his advanced abilities, he downplayed them. However, he was finding it difficult to do so. Several times he had to consciously miss Voldemort, knowing if he scored a hit the Dark Lord would be enraged, and may view him more as a threat than a worthy servant.

If Voldemort was not possessing Pettigrew and had his own body, Severus might have thrown his lie of being the Dark Lord's spy aside, but as it stood now, even if he struck Voldemort down, his spirit would live on. Voldemort had no real attachment to anything he possessed, no matter how deeply entrenched he was in them.

"Enough, Severus," Voldemort stated, stopping suddenly. "I am satisfied."

"Thank you, my Lord. I am here to serve you," Severus said, bowing his head again.

"Now, to seal this ruse," he stated, lifting his wand once more.

Severus didn't move, knowing this was going to hurt and there was nothing he would be able to do about it, not unless he wanted to discard the progress he had just made in strengthening his position as a loyal, dark spy.

"Diffindo! Crucio!"

Severus felt the first spell slash into him, and he couldn't help but grow alarmed as he felt it grind against his ribs, but then those concerns were pushed aside as pain all over assaulted him.

Perhaps he had not downplayed his abilities well enough. . . .

Voldemort held the crucio longer than Severus had anticipated, but he endured and did not scream. He would not give the monster that pleasure and would let him think it was another display of ‘worthiness', rather than the defiance it really was.

Finally, it ended.

Severus didn't bother to look up.

"Stupify!"

O o O o O

Dumbledore led the professors up toward the library, confident Severus would be able to handle whoever the intruder happened to be.

Slowing slightly as they approached the hall leading to the library, they suddenly heard . . . giggling?

Dumbledore came around the corner, finding the last thing he had expected.

The hall was a complete mess. There were chunks of rock everywhere and parts of the floor had been cracked by, what he was able to conclude, falling stone. The molding on the ceiling had taken a beating and the walls appeared to have been scraped by something very hard.

However, this was not what surprised him most.

Standing in the middle of the hall were Harry and Neville, and in Harry's arms, wrapped in robes, was a very young dragon. The dragon butted its head against Harry's, causing both boys to laugh at the dragon's playfulness.

Suddenly, Neville looked up.

"Headmaster!" Neville gasped.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling brightly. Remus' eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline and Filius gave a surprised squeak. Hagrid hurried forward.

"Aww, isn't he just the cutest thing!" Hagrid gushed.

"Actually, Hagrid, he's a she," Harry gently corrected as the professors came closer.

"She was huge when we found her, but Harry canceled the spell and she immediately shrunk down," Neville explained as the dragon snuggled against Harry, which only made Hagrid grow more paternal.

"May I hold her, ‘Arry?" Hagrid asked, his eyes brimming with hopefulness. Harry couldn't say no.

Slightly disturbed by the large man she was being handed to, the dragon gave a few panicked, chirpy grunts.

:It's alright, girl. Hagrid won't hurt you, he's very gentle: Harry comforted as he gave her a gentle pet on the head.

Seeing her uneasiness, Hagrid quickly dug into his pockets and pulled out . . . a chunk of meat. He broke off a bit.

Harry blinked but decided not to question it.

"‘Ere we go, let's see if she'll like this," Hagrid said, holding it out for her.

She didn't need much encouragement to go into Hagrid's empty hand after that, chomping down on the red steak with vigor as Hagrid held her.

"Just look at the little darling," he said as she nearly took a chunk of his finger with the meat.

Harry could only shake his head in amazement before looking to Dumbledore, Lupin, and Flitwick.

"I am very glad to see you two are safe and, I must say, I am quite impressed with how you two were able to handle this. Usually dragons are very difficult to approach, no matter their age," Dumbledore praised.

"Well, we couldn't just leave her. She was hurting herself and her wing was pinned against the ceiling. Besides, she was actually rather calm. I think she was relieved to be found," Harry said.

"Yeah," Neville agreed. "Once Harry touched her nose and started humming, it was easy after that."

Flitwick perked up at that. "Humming?"

Harry reddened. "Well, Coral said she was a baby, and I knew this lullaby tune . . . figured it might help, and it did."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes glowing with amusement and pride before glancing at Hagrid. "I trust you will be able to care for her until I can arrange a new home for her, Hagrid? I believe I have a possible place in mind."

"Of course, Headmaster," Hagrid immediately answered, utterly thrilled. "She needs a name though. How about Norberta?" he suggested helpfully.

"Er - alright," Harry answered, a bit unsure about the name, but it did seem to fit - in an odd sort of way.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore said, about to motion them to follow him, but he stopped when Harry gasped.

Hand flat against his scar, Harry grit his teeth and closed his eyes in intense pain.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, placing his hand on his shoulder to stabilize him. Remus looked alarmed.

"He's furious. Mad that he's been tricked," Harry managed, before having to swallow back bile.

"Filius, Remus, escort Harry and Neville to the infirmary. Seal it once you are within. Hagrid, I will leave you to the dragon. I need to find Severus," Dumbledore stated, before turning and bolting to the third floor as fast as he could.