Albus would likely never admit it to anyone, but he was panting by the time he made it to entrance of the final chamber; however, he didn't stop to breathe, but entered, his wand held aloft in case he needed to cast immediately.

His eyes quickly took in the room, finding the Mirror of Erised shattered at the far wall directly in front of him. He pulled his eyes away from the broken surface and looked elsewhere, trying to find Severus.

The residue of dark spells was pungent in the room and all of the walls were covered in horrible marks, but one wall was by far the worst, for it had the unmistakable red of blood smeared across its surface. A dark form was beneath it.

"Severus!"

He hurried forward, fearing the worst as he caught sight of a pool of blood beginning to gather under the potion master's limp form.

On his way forward, Albus swiftly scanned the rest of the room, quickly determining the intruder was long gone. He and Severus were alone.

Shifting Severus onto his back, grateful but worried upon hearing the young man's ragged breathing, Dumbledore promptly spelled the upper half of the black robes open to quickly find the source of the bleeding. He was horrified by what he found. It was a massive gash. It started just below his right collar bone and went all the way down and around to the tip of his lowest right rib. Albus' heart lurched, for the wound was not only long, but very deep. He could see the white of bone.

"Severus, hang on!" he urged, despite knowing his former student was unconscious. He pointed the tip of his wand at the top of the long gash, before slowly moving his wand down over it and back again several times. "Vulnera Sanentur . . . Vulnera Sanentur . . . Vulnera Sanentur. . . ."

Slowly, much of the blood that had soaked Severus' robes and had pooled around him began seeping back into the wound, the flesh around it pulling back together and rejoining. The Headmaster was not a licensed Healer by any means, but he wasn't a novice either.

Once certain he had treated Severus the best he could, he levitated him up and hurried to the infirmary.

O o O o O

Sitting on the bed in the infirmary, Harry and Neville swung their legs back and forth, waiting for the 'lock-down' to be lifted. Harry wondered what was going on. Had Voldemort entered the castle again? Had he used Norberta as a distraction? It certainly seemed so. It would explain why his scar had hurt, and why Dumbledore had hurried off as he had.

When he asked the professors what was going on, they didn't really give him an answer, though they did appear worried, which unsettled him. Where was Professor Snape? And why had Dumbledore said he needed to find him?

Suddenly, Harry got his answer as the doors to the infirmary opened and the Headmaster swiftly entered. Professor Snape was hovering beside him, as if being carried by an invisible stretcher.

"Poppy, Blood-Replenishing Potion," Dumbledore stated, sweat actually visible on his brow.

It was clear to Harry and the others he had likely ran the entire way from wherever he had found the Potions Master.

With a gasp, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the cabinet as Dumbledore brought Snape forward and gently placed him on the bed near the back of the infirmary. Harry got off the bed he had been sitting on and hurried over to help as well.

"What happened?" Harry asked, dismayed by the state of his favorite professor. There was blood on his robes and his skin was very pale. Also, on his chest was a long, very fresh scar.

Dumbledore didn't answer him; instead, he turned to Lupin and Flitwick.

"I've already sent a message to Minerva. The students will remain locked down in the Great Hall until we are certain the intruder is out of the castle. I've sent for Pomona and a few of the other professors to help us with the sweep."

He looked back to Professor Snape, who was still unconscious. Harry was now right by the bed.

:I sense dark magic, Harry: Coral warned.

:Yes, I do too: Harry answered.

Poppy came forward with the potion, pausing as she found the Headmaster looking intently at Severus.

"Call me when he wakes. Also, no one outside this room is to know he has been hurt, understood?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes lastly falling to Harry and Neville.

"We understand, sir," Harry answered as Neville nodded.

The Headmaster motioned to Lupin and Flitwick and promptly left with them.

"Neville, if you would, go retrieve a jar with the label 'dittany' for me," Madam Pomfrey said as she waved her wand over the professor to ensure there was nothing dangerous . . . to any of them. She then spelled the blood-replenishing potion into him before nodding to Harry to begin his own work as Neville brought her the dittany.

Not needing to be prompted further, Harry placed his left hand on the man's bare shoulder, a few inches above where the top of the scar began.

:What's wrong?: Harry whispered, sending forth his magic as images flashed in his mind's eye.

He saw the nicks on Snape's ribs where the curse had slashed into him and he saw close up images of the scar tissue gathered where the Headmaster had just recently closed the grievous wound. There was also swelling at the back of the professor's head, as if he had slammed his skull against something hard several times. Thankfully, there were no skull fractures. There was also some odd swelling on his inner left forearm, but it wasn't as severe, so Harry paid it little mind. There were more serious injuries to be concerned about at the moment as he was then shown very quick flashes of something else entirely.

His breath caught; the images he was witnessing now were very similar to something he had seen once before.

Thankfully, these were not as severe, but it was still alarming and he swallowed thickly.

The professor's nerve endings in his fingers and extremities were damaged, and the tissues surrounding them were swollen. In fact, nearly all of the man's nerves had suffered some degree of trauma, and Harry's mind quickly came to the answer.

Just like the Longbottoms, Professor Snape had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, his voice a little unsteady. "The Cruciatus Curse."

Her eyes widened, pausing in her preparation of the dittany. Neville went white.

"When he wakes, I will give him the potion to drink. Unfortunately, I can't spell that into him like the blood-replenishing potion," she said resolutely, deciding now was not the time to ask Harry how he knew it was the Cruciatus Curse, or even how he knew of the curse.

Harry nodded, looking back down to the potions master.

"I'm going to heal what I can," Harry said, before pausing. "Madam Pomfrey, do you want me to try healing the scar?"

"No, the dittany will do that," she assured.

Harry nodded, stretching his magic out and focusing on the task before him.

Healing the nicks on the ribs was easy, and eliminating the swelling on the back of his head was as well, but Harry paused as he questioned whether or not he should move on to the nerves or not.

:Should we, Coral?:

:We can try reducing the swelling, that should help ease the pain: Coral suggested. :As for the rest . . . I don't know:

:Okay: Harry said, falling back into 'healer mode' and carefully sending a bit of his magic forward to take a firm grasp on the man's magic.

The potion master's magic definitely had a different feel to it than others he had healed. It was rich, thick, and, in certain ways, more powerful than even the headmaster's.

Exhaling, Harry zeroed in on the swelling around the nerves, guiding his mind's eye to show him as much as it could.

It was strange, to say the least. There was swelling around the nerves and the amount varied on the severity of damage. It was worse at the professor's palms and the tips of his fingers. However, that was not what was strange.

Surrounding the majority of the nerves was a thin 'membrane' of magic. Looking closer, Harry noticed that much of the curse residue lay outside of the membrane, but on the other side, against the nerve, there was very little. It was as if the membrane had acted like a screen. Continuing his examination, he found the membrane had been stripped away at the tips of the nerves. There were jagged edges where the curse had been able to fracture and tear away the membrane, allowing it to attack the exposed nerves without any further interference.

Harry healed the nearby swollen tissues, but didn't like the idea of leaving curse residue behind. Unfortunately, he didn't know what to do about that, so, instead, he decided to help rebuild what appeared to be the professor's defense, leaving the residue alone. He figured rebuilding the membrane wouldn't be too hard to do; it would be like rebuilding layers of skin in his mind, and he had done that many times.

Taking a moment to examine the magic surrounding the nerves, he wondered if every wizard had such a defense, and if it rose the split second they were put under the horrid spell. He supposed it was possible; though, Mrs. Longbottom had no magical membrane surrounding her nerves. Granted, perhaps all of hers had been destroyed.

:Membranes, rebuild and strengthen: he stated, slowly, very slowly, easing his magic forward and moving it with the Professor's around the nerves.

Pulling slightly at the existing membranes, he asked the magic to copy the membrane's makeup and purpose before stretching it back and over the bare nerves. Then, like a paint brush, he glided the left over magic he had devoted to the task over the rest, strengthening the protection and reinforcing sections that had begun to suffer wear. Several minutes later, Harry eased back, pleased with what he mentally saw.

:I think that's as much as we can do right now: he said.

:I agree: Coral said.

O o O o O

Dumbledore shifted slightly in the chair beside Severus' bed. It was late, but Albus couldn't bring himself to head to bed just yet. He actually might not head to bed at all.

The castle had been thoroughly searched and there was not a trace of anything to give a hint as to where the intruder had gone . . . or that they had even been there at all, save on the third floor where Severus had confronted them. It was quite frustrating. He had a suspicion the attempted thief had used a secret passage and had somehow covered his presence magically to enter and leave Hogwarts.

He believed the intruder had been Voldemort, but, until he spoke with Severus, he couldn't be certain.

Albus closed his eyes. If he had been a few minutes later in getting to Severus, the young man may have perished from blood loss.

He honestly didn't know what he would have done if he had gotten there too late.

He quietly exhaled, calming himself as he reminded himself that Harry was in the bed beside Severus'. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout felt it best that he sleep in the infirmary for the night, in case he was hit with any more headaches.

Dumbledore turned his eyes to Severus, part of him wishing he hadn't agreed with Madam Pomfrey to let the young man sleep. However, as much as he wanted answers, he knew the young man needed to rest, especially after learning he had been held under a crucio for an extended amount of time.

So that left Albus theorizing what had happened.

Had Voldemort discovered Severus was a spy? Why hadn't he killed him outright? Was it because he wasn't strong enough to cast the killing curse in his current form, whatever it was, and then hurriedly left? Or perhaps he had been punishing Severus because he was unable to procure the stone for him? Neither case made sense.

He put his wrinkled face in his old hand, the image of Severus motionless and crumpled against the wall flashing before his eyes once more.

For a split second, he had thought. . . .

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. It would not do to lose himself while anyone could see, especially a student who was lying in a nearby bed, despite said child likely being asleep.

The back quarter of the infirmary had been cordoned off with a thick curtain. Though it didn't provide as much privacy as a wall, it was easier for Madam Pomfrey to maneuver around and organize the room this way. Also, students occasionally saw the curtains closed, so this wouldn't appear too out of the norm if they passed by the infirmary and glanced in. Harry and Severus were on the same side, out of view from passersby.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey was not anticipating either of them staying for too long. Very likely, if the Potions Master was true to form, he would be up in the morning and grumbling his way back to his own chambers. As for Harry, this was just a precautionary measure for the night.

Dumbledore lowered hand from his face and looked at Severus. Merlin, he could really use some hot cocoa.

"Continue sleeping, my boy. I will be back soon," he whispered softly, giving Severus a gentle pat on his right arm before standing up.

O o O

Harry wasn't asleep. He was actually wide awake, despite the chaotic events of the day. Though, the fact the Headmaster was seated on the far side of Professor Snape's bed also may have had something to do with his wakefulness.

From the cover of his blankets, he watched the Headmaster, and had been since the man had entered the infirmary an hour after Madam Pomfrey had kindly tucked him in.

The room was shaded in darkness, but he could still make out the Headmaster's movements and features. Even from where he was, Harry could tell Dumbledore was troubled, and, if his intuition was correct, it had something to do with the attack on Professor Snape.

Harry was also troubled by what had happened, particularly concerning the cruciatus curse. But he had been reassured by Madam Pomfrey that the professor would fully recover and that his parselmagic had already helped a great deal. Harry tried not to feel too proud about that, but it was nice to know he had really helped the man who had done so much for him in such a short time. He owed him so much.

Harry swallowed, watching as the Headmaster put his face in his hand. It really looked like the old wizard was about to cry. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw an adult cry, especially the Headmaster. Adults weren't supposed to cry, especially men.

Releasing an internal sigh of relief, he watched as the Headmaster seemed to collect himself, pinching his slightly crooked nose before lowering his hand.

Suddenly, the Headmaster leaned forward slightly and whispered something before patting Professor Snape on his arm.

The action jogged something in Harry's memory, making him recall the odd swelling on the professor's inner forearm.

As his thoughts focused on that, Dumbledore stood, turned, and silently disappeared behind the curtain. He heard the Headmaster's footsteps leave the room.

Harry couldn't believe he had forgotten about the strange swelling on the potion master's arm, but, with everything that had been going on at the time, it had completely slipped his mind. Well, it was probably nothing, but it wouldn't hurt to check and make sure it was gone, whatever it had been.

The Professor had probably just hit something when he had faced the intruder.

Sitting up, Coral stirred.

:What are you doing, Harry?: she asked.

:I'm going to check the professor's arm. I had forgotten to earlier. Want to help?: he asked.

:Sure:

Coral uncoiled from her spot on his pillow and wrapped around his wrist.

Quietly getting up, Harry made his way to the left side of the professor's bed. Normally, he would have felt like he was intruding in the man's space, but right now, in a way, Professor Snape was his patient. It was his responsibility to make sure he was alright.

Slowly, and a little hesitantly, Harry placed his hand with Coral on Snape's left arm, sending a bit of his magic out.

What he had felt before was still there, but, as Harry examined it more closely with his magic, there was a bit more to it than simple swelling. There was a concentration of magic focused there, and it wasn't the professor's magic. It was dark, ugly, and malicious. It felt almost alive.

Frowning, Harry moved his hand and carefully pulled up the professor's sleeve as he turned his arm. Even though the only light was coming from the infirmary windows, Harry's eyes had long adjusted to the low light and could make out . . . something on the man's skin.

A tattoo?

:What is that?: Coral asked.

It was pale gray and in the form of a skull and a snake. It was a little unclear, as if it had been washed out by something or had been worn away. However, there was a dark misty hue surrounding it all, and it seemed to shift in the dim light.

"It's called a Dark Mark."

O o O

"-my boy. I will be back soon."

Severus remained still and kept his eyes closed as he quickly determined who had just spoken and unknowingly pulled him from his slumber by patting his arm. Focusing on his surroundings, he heard the Headmaster leave the room and could sense there was another individual still nearby.

Relaxing, he concluded it was Harry. It was no surprise. Knowing Pomfrey, she would have wanted him close by in case his scar began acting up again — as it likely had when Voldemort learned Dumbledore had tricked him.

Quickly assessing his injuries, he was surprised he wasn't feeling more of the effects from the cruciatus. Perhaps he had Harry to thank for that. His chest was a little stiff, and he knew that was probably due to the application of dittany, but overall it didn't feel too bad.

A noise to his left suddenly drew his attention.

Ah, parseltongue, and Harry no doubt getting up from his bed. Perhaps he should say something and deter Harry from sneaking off; though, he doubted that was what Harry was doing. Perhaps he just needed to use the loo?

However, why was he now by his bed?

Severus didn't move, wanting to see what Harry would do, though he had to fight really hard not to react when Harry touched his arm through his sleeve.

He couldn't possibly. . . ?

And then he felt the boy's magic seep into him, examining his left arm.

It was utterly surreal when he felt Harry turn his arm and begin to pull up his sleeve, and in that moment Severus was forced to make a split second decision.

Should he reveal he was awake and stop him? Or should he let him see?

In the end, Severus decided to let him see. This secret wasn't worth keeping and perhaps it would help matters later. It also wasn't like Harry wouldn't be able to figure it out on his own already. He had enough clues. Heck, perhaps he already knew.

Opening his eyes, he heard Coral hiss what he felt was a question as he saw Harry staring down at the worst mistake of his life.

"It's called a Dark Mark," Severus stated softly.

Saying that was actually easier than he thought it would be; though, perhaps seeing Harry jump back in surprise helped.

"Professor! I'm sorry, I wanted to make sure — I mean, earlier —" he began, frazzled.

"I'm not angry with you, Potter," he said, sitting up and trying not to wince at the twinge his movement caused to the recently closed wound.

"You shouldn't be moving, sir," Harry said, before swiftly closing his mouth.

Severus smirked and had to fight back an amused smile. "Taking after Madam Pomfrey already, I see."

Harry bit his lip, an action Severus had seen him do many times before when he was thinking or was nervous.

"So the dragon was taken care of, I take it?" Severus asked, turning his arm back over and placing his right hand over it. He couldn't help it. Even though Harry already saw, he was self-conscious about it.

Harry nodded, trying not to turn his eyes toward the now hidden mark. "Yes, sir. Neville and I found her. The intruder had made her huge and she blocked off the entire corridor. But Neville and I handled it. He helped put her to sleep by humming, and I shrunk her back to normal."

Severus could tell that was a very rough summation of what had occurred. He would likely get the more detailed and elaborate version from the Headmaster later.

"Shrunk her back to normal?" he asked, motioning Harry to simply sit at the edge of the bed by his knees as he shifted over to give him plenty of space.

Harry tentatively came forward and sat on the edge, feeling a little awkward at first, but he got over it soon enough.

"She was only a baby. Hagrid's taking care of her now." Harry smiled. "You know, Hagrid told me he wanted a dragon the first time I met him. I bet this is a dream come true for him."

Severus allowed himself a soft smile, thinking back to Norberta in the future. She had certainly come in handy, and she had remembered Harry. Between her, Harry, and himself, they had been able to hold back over a dozen Death Eaters and four Dark Lieutenants long enough others to flee into the safety of the underground tunnels.

Severus blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts.

"He told you too?" Harry asked, thinking the professor was recalling a conversation with the half-giant and not a battle he had fought in the distant future.

"Not in so many words, but it's widely known Hagrid likes creatures most fear to even approach," he said simply.

Harry nodded, obviously unsure how to continue the conversation as he glanced at Severus' left arm.

Severus fought back a sigh. He turned his arm back over and exposed his mark once again. He trailed his finger down along the inner edge. Harry stared.

"I got it in my youth. I was foolish, young, and afraid," he began quietly. "I was approached by a few people who knew of my potion skills and other abilities. They offered what I thought I wanted. Power and recognition."

"Who were they?" Harry asked in a nearly silent whisper.

"Death Eaters. Followers of the Dark Lord."

Harry blinked, and Severus could tell he was doing his best to work out what this meant in his mind.

"He brands his followers with this. It allows him to call us to him, no matter where he is . . ." he said, before darkly adding, "among other things."

Harry swallowed, but his eyes did not quite hold the amount of fear Severus had been expecting. There was fear, certainly, but where there should have been more of it, there was understanding and respect.

It reminded him so much of the Harry he had left that he had to look away.

There was a long silent pause.

"I think I understand, sir," Harry whispered. "You don't have to say anymore."

Severus turned his eyes back to him, amazed to see how swiftly the boy was becoming the young man he had come to know and respect in the future. His intuitiveness and gentle understanding had always been there, he supposed, but to see it emerging at this age for himself was rather astonishing. He reclined back against his pillow and pulled his sleeve back down over his mark, but he was not done talking.

"I am in a dangerous position, Potter. In one hand, I hold my life, and in the other, I hold the lives of others. One day I may be forced to choose."

"I think you've already chosen," Harry stated softly. "It's why you came back hurt, isn't it?"

Severus clenched his jaw. The boy's maturity in certain things, particularly in matters of life and death, always took him aback, even in the future. It reminded him that even though the boy was young, he wasn't quite a child, at least, not in the way most people would think he ought to be.

He was about to answer Harry, but he suddenly sensed another presence in the room. He quickly recognized it as the headmaster's. Conscious what he said would be overheard by the man, he chose his words carefully.

O o O

Albus, cup of hot cocoa in hand, quietly came to the infirmary, careful not to make a sound. He didn't want to wake them. Pomfrey would be most displeased if she learned he did.

"It's why you came back hurt, isn't it?" he heard Harry ask as he opened the door.

Dumbledore stopped, for a moment unsure of what to do. He didn't like the idea of eavesdropping, but he also didn't want to interrupt a conversation that was obviously very sensitive. However, his curiosity could hardly be ignored either. And so, he waited in silence and listened.

"He wished to make it appear I had fought him and lost, so the Headmaster would believe my position as spy had been compromised."

"Why would Voldemort want that?"

"I try not to understand the minds of Dark Lords, Potter, but perhaps he believes the Headmaster will now tell me things he wouldn't have before."

"Why would he think that?"

"The Dark Lord has ways of extracting information, even from wizards able to combat unconventional methods like myself. The Headmaster keeps things from me because of this, and it is just as well. If the Dark Lord were to even suspect my treachery, he would interrogate me at his first opportunity, and it would only be a matter of time before he learned everything I knew. This is why the Headmaster doesn't inform me of everything. But even so, I know things the Dark Lord must never discover, and that is why I submit myself to him, even if it is . . . unpleasant."

"What will you do if he ever learns the truth?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

"I will do what I have been doing all along, Mr. Potter. Fight."

Dumbledore felt his heart swell with pride for Severus.

"The Headmaster was here earlier," Harry stated after the brief pause.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he was sitting by your bed."

Albus really wished he could see Severus, but the curtain was in the way. Well, tone of voice would have to do.

"Is there a particular reason why you brought this up?" Severus asked calmly.

Albus could tell by the pause that Harry was likely unsure of how to continue.

"He looked really worried about you," Harry admitted finally.

Dumbledore could barely keep himself from fidgeting, now seriously beginning to feel bad about eavesdropping, but now he was stuck. If he were to make any noise now, they would learn he was there, and that would be even more awkward. And he wasn't about to risk wordlessly casting a silencing spell. Knowing how sensitive Severus was to magic, that would give away his presence just as quickly.

"The Headmaster holds his staff close to his heart. I suppose, in a way, we are family to him. I'm not surprised you saw him visiting me. He can be rather sentimental, but it is not disagreeable. It is part of what makes him Dumbledore, possibly the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen."

"Hagrid says he is the greatest," Harry pointed out, a smile in his voice.

Albus could have sworn he just heard Severus bite back a laugh.

"He very well may be, but as I didn't personally know the headmasters before him, I cannot say that he actually is."

"I suppose that's true," Harry agreed.

"You have seen a side of the Headmaster very few see, Potter. The public views him as a powerful icon, like yourself, and much of the Ministry sees him as an invincible leader who can solve their problems. Very few people consider the fact that he is just a man."

"I think I understand."

"You likely understand it better than most, Potter. Now, if we do not want the wrath of Madam Pomfrey in the morning, I believe we should get to sleep."

"Okay, sir."

Dumbledore waited for fifteen minutes to pass after he heard Harry move back to his own bed before he quietly entered, doing his best to appear as if he had just come in.

He looked at Severus, who appeared to have fallen back to sleep, before turning his eyes to Harry. The boy had curled himself into a ball under the covers and had his back to him. Coral was coiled up by his head on the pillow.

With a soft smile, he eased himself into the chair beside Severus' bed and silently sat, sipping at his now lukewarm cocoa. He would happily take the reprimand he would receive from Pomfrey in the morning about staying up all night, for in that moment there was nowhere else he would have rather been.

O o O o O

The school never learned what really happened, although a number of bizarre rumors ran rampant for a few days afterward. The only thing Dumbledore revealed to the school was the fact there had been a dragon, as Sir Nicholas had stated. He did not confirm or deny there being an intruder or that they had dueled Severus. It was decided the students didn't need to know the details; particularly the fact that the feared potions master had suffered injuries demanding a night in the infirmary.

Unfortunately, the fact Harry Potter stayed the night in the hospital wing had not been missed by the student body. Elaborate tales involving Potter and a giant dragon soon rose to insane heights, and the damage Norberta did to the walls and ceiling only served to strengthen these. Nothing Harry or Neville said mattered.

Harry and Neville quickly became 'dragon tamers' among the student population.

As for Norberta, Dumbledore had quickly made arrangements for travel to her new home — the Flamel's, to the great disappointment of Hagrid, who had only been able to care for the baby dragon for about a day.

All in all, the following week was filled with awed speculation and wonder about Harry and Neville, many wishing to know the 'truth' of the giant dragon in the corridor and how the two first years had managed to subdue it. They didn't believe that the dragon had actually only been an enlarged baby dragon (as Harry and Neville tried to explain). They felt it was a story the staff had told them to say, as it was clear there was more to what had happened than what the professors were admitting.

Eventually though, rumors settled, particularly when the end of the year exams got closer and everyone was scrambling to prepare for them.

However, for the professors, things remained tense. The fact Voldemort had once again been able to infiltrate the castle understandably had the professors worried, and made them eager for the arrival of summer so the wards could finally be improved. But until then, the Headmaster told them to be especially vigilant and to report anything out of the ordinary, no matter how small.

O o O o O

"He tells me his scar is still hurting off and on," Professor Sprout stated with a sigh.

"Perhaps he is just feeling waves of Voldemort's frustration at having failed to acquire the stone?" Filius suggested.

The two of them were in Filius' office off of the Charms classroom.

"I had made the same suggestion to Harry, but he didn't seem convinced that was even a possibility."

"You think Voldemort could be planning something else?"

"How could he not be? Severus had stated the monster mentioned he would go a different route now that the stone was beyond his reach," Pomona continued, now clearly getting agitated. "Oh, I just wish Harry didn't have to deal with any of this."

"He does seem to be coping rather well though," Filius pointed out, trying to be encouraging.

"Yes, he is, despite the whole rumor fiasco with the dragon."

"I know what you mean. And while I agree it was for the best that the students weren't told everything, it can't be easy for Potter and Longbottom."

"Yes . . . 'dragon tamers'," Pomona said, shaking her head.

"The students are certainly not without imagination."

Pomona sighed, slightly frustrated with it all. She felt as if her hands were tied.

"I'm sure this will pass over and become yet another part of Hogwarts' lore," Filius said. "Already, things are beginning to calm. The end of term tests are next week, and even the students know they can't afford to be distracted."

"You're right, Filius. I just wish all my Hufflepuffs only had tests to worry about, instead of Dark Lords, overbearing rumors and the like. It's too much for a child to handle, or anyone for that matter. Have you spoken with Severus at all since it happened?" she asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"Of course, though the conversation was shorter than I would have preferred," Filius said. "But all conversations I have with Severus are short, so it's no surprise."

"He told Harry."

"Told him what?" Filius asked, confused.

"Evidently, Harry had noticed something off about his left arm the night Albus brought him to the infirmary."

Filius' eyes widened, instantly understanding. "So he just told him?"

"Severus stated to me that he saw no point in hiding it. He felt Harry already knew of his position."

"How could Potter possibly know?" Filius asked incredulously.

"Remus."

Filius frowned. "That doesn't seem like something Remus would do, unless. . . ." He trailed off, seeing Pomona nodding.

"Yes, Harry asked," Pomona explained. "I don't know the specifics, but his inquires were enough to make Remus feel he should tell Harry a few things, but only what Harry would be able to find out on his own in public records."

"So Remus saved him the trouble and likely explained it in a responsible manner," Filius reasoned out loud, now not as worried as he had been.

Pomona nodded.

"I suppose it was for the best then," Filius said after a moment. "I do question the wisdom of telling an eleven year old about being an active spy though, with or without there being public records."

"It's why I brought it up with you. I'm fairly certain Harry understands the danger of Severus' position, but I don't quite know what to do to help at all."

"At this time, I don't think there's anything you need to do. Just be there to answer his questions and be honest with him. From what I have been able to see, Potter responds best to complete honesty."

Pomona nodded thoughtfully at that. "Yes, that has been my observation as well. When he first began taking lessons with Poppy, I had been a little concerned. I wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with certain parts of medical knowledge, you understand, but I've seen how Poppy explains things in a straightforward, no nonsense manner, and he seems able to digest it accordingly and with very little embarrassment or awkwardness — unlike others his age."

"That's very good. I'm sure Potter will be able to become a fine Healer when he graduates."

Pomona nodded. "I know Poppy has already begun speaking with a few of her old friends she met at the University and at St. Mungos. I am sure there are already a number of people looking forward to possibly hiring Harry when he is of age — fame aside."

"Yes, I can image," Filius said, agreeing.

"Well, I need to prep the plants for the fourth years' tests next week."

"I need to finish organizing a few things as well," Filius said, hoping down from his seat. "I'm glad we had this little chat. I admit I have been curious about how Potter has been doing in your House. I suspect Minerva has been equally curious."

"I may have a conversation with her later. I wouldn't mind hearing some of her thoughts, as she had known a bit more about James than most. I'd like to know if certain quirks of his have been passed down to Harry or not."

Filius smiled. "Well, from what you have told me, he resembles Lily more than James, but even then, Harry is quite unique. I doubt there has ever been anyone like him before."

O o O o O

Harry pulled the curtains around his bed, deciding to call it a night. The past week had been very busy, studying and taking tests, but he was confident his efforts had been enough to get at least E's in most of his subjects. For History of Magic he would be happy with an A, though getting an E didn't seem entirely impossible. The test had been easier than he had thought it would be. Granted, reading the book during class as Binns droned on and on about some goblin he had already discussed fifty times before probably helped.

:Sleep well, Harry: Coral hissed, curling herself on the edge of his pillow.

:Night, Coral: he said, getting under the covers.

With a sigh, Harry closed his eyes, glad the busy week had resulted in his peers leaving him alone. The rumors and questions about the dragon had finally ended, and the school seemed to have moved on from inquiring about his and Neville's 'dragon taming' abilities. Not that it mattered all that much, as the summer holidays would begin the following week and their fascination with him would likely disappear over the break anyway. At least that's what Ernie assured him.

Harry couldn't really blame the school for being curious, but the incessant whispering and amazed looks were annoying, though, they did distract him from the pain he was feeling in his scar.

It was now nearly non-stop. It was actually getting worse. He had told Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey, but they unfortunately couldn't do much to help. Pomfrey had given him some pain reliever of course, but Harry hated the way the potion made him feel lighter than he knew he should be. He hated the 'floaty' feeling and actually preferred the pain over it. At least he could endure the pain and ignore it, at least for the most part, and it wasn't like the pain was unbearable, just there. Sort of like a cold sore.

But it wasn't as simple as that, and Harry knew he shouldn't just brush it aside, but at this point there was little else he could do. He also knew he shouldn't allow himself to keep thinking about it, it wasn't healthy, but he did anyway. What was Voldemort doing? What was he thinking about? By the faint traces he was getting from the scar, it certainly wasn't anything good. He was gearing up for something, and it was very soon. It was as if the Dark Lord was eagerly waiting for Christmas morning or something.

Harry only hoped they would be able to thwart him once again whenever he did strike.

On another note, he had gotten back to reading the Occlumency book and practicing the simple exercises. With his school work done for that year, he felt the potions master would approve of his shift in studies.

Harry smiled. He was confident he had done well on the Potions test. When he had turned in his test and potion flask, the side of the Professor's mouth had turned up, ever so slightly, in a way Harry had been able to identify as pride. It was a strange feeling. To his knowledge, he had never made anyone proud before. Maybe he would be able to do it again? He would certainly try!

With that final happy thought, Harry surrendered to sleep.

.

.

.

Harry grimaced, the pain in his scar mounting to such a degree it had woken him from his slumber. It felt so strong, even stronger than the times when Voldemort had been in the castle. It was thick, so potent that it felt as if the monster was right there in the room. . . .

With that, Harry's eyes snapped open, and he was suddenly aware of Coral right up against his shoulder, her flickering tongue by his ear.

:Something just entered: she whispered softly. Harry had almost missed her words. :I can taste them:

Harry remained still, his heart hammering in his chest as he now sensed a presence just on the other side of his bed's curtains. Harry's eyes turned to the dark cloth, hoping to see something, even though he didn't have his glasses on.

Silently, Harry slipped his wand on his forearm free from his holster just as he caught movement at the edge of the curtain.

A hand.

It was gripping the edge of the cloth, and Harry knew something was going to happen soon. Whoever was on the other side, Voldemort or not, was going to open the curtain, and he had a very strong feeling it would not be good for him.

The curtain was ripped aside, and Harry only had a split second to grab hold of Coral and leap off the bed.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Green light exploded forth, striking right where he had been lying as he launched himself back, falling onto the floor and ripping down the curtain on the bed's other side. The bed was instantly obliterated by the dark spell as the covers fell at his feet, somehow not having tangled around him. Coral was in his left hand as he clumsily threw forth the spell Smith had cast against Draco all those weeks ago.

"Everte Statum!" Harry cried, precariously aiming at the blurry dark form on the opposite side of the bed before snatching his glasses from the bedside table as Coral instantly wrapped around his wrist.

The spell was easily deflected by the dark wizard, who seemed to growl in annoyance.

"Can't you just die, Potter? !" he snarled before flicking his wand.

Harry's wand was yanked from his grasp, but before he could react, the wizard thrust his wand at him again.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted again as Harry's wand clattered to the floor somewhere near Justin's bed.

Harry barely managed to roll behind the cylindrical furnace at the center of the room. The green spell rocketed to the floor and cracked it, shattered stone going everywhere.

With his glasses now firmly on his face, Harry could make out the form in the low light. He was fat, short, and had frightening bright, slitted, red eyes.

"Harry?" Neville cried as Ernie, Justin, and Zacharias shot up from their beds.

"Run!" Harry shouted, now having to squint as the pain in his scar increased.

Justin fled the room, being closest to the door. Smith was petrified in terror on his bed while Ernie wisely took refuge behind the side of his bed. Neville followed Ernie's strategy, falling alongside his bed and taking cover while pulling out his wand. Neville's curtains were not closed, as he preferred them open when he slept.

"You will trouble me no longer, Potter."

"You're the one who's been troubling me — Voldemort," Harry shot back, now hoping to keep his would-be-murderer's attention on himself.

"You are intelligent at least," Voldemort stated, before throwing another spell, this one aimed at Harry's cover and forcing him to flee behind Neville's bed as the heater splintered. "Hiding will only postpone the inevitable." He shot another spell, this one hitting the wall beyond Neville's bed. It missed their heads by mere inches.

Crouching lower, Harry grabbed Neville's arm. "Close your eyes when I head for the door," he whispered urgently as he removed his mother's wand from his calf holster.

Neville nodded, tightening his grip on his own wand.

Voldemort stepped forward. They could hear his feet crush some of what was left of Harry's bed and the room's heater. Voldemort cast another spell, and the bed they were behind launched upward before flying across the room and slamming against the far wall near the door. Neville's side table slid from the wall several feet, but remained upright, stopping where the end of Neville's bed once was.

Harry squeezed Neville's arm in what he hoped would be interpreted as a signal before he dashed forward, his mind no longer trying to work out desperate strategies, but reacting.

"LUMOS!" Harry thundered, his voice nearly cracking with his bellow as he slammed his eyes shut and threw as much power as he could into the spell.

"AHH!" Voldemort screeched as the ray of white light, brighter than a flash of lightning, shot right into his face.

Voldemort stumbled to the side slightly as he blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. He was now closest to Justin's bed, to the horror of Smith who was the next closest.

Harry's momentum carried his small form forward, which was unfortunate as he tripped over the debris now covering the floor. He landed with a resounding thud and his head struck a slab of bent iron that had once been straight and part of the heater.

Breathing hard, dazed and now bleeding, Harry looked up as the rather fat Dark Lord roared.

Neville scrambled forward and took hold of Harry's foot and promptly yanked him back, sliding him across the floor as he desperately tried to get them both back behind the closest form of cover, which was now Harry's dilapidated bed.

Voldemort was furious. "I'll kill you all!" he declared as he blindly turned his wand to a random target.

Neville.

"Avada Kedavra!"

There was nothing either of the boys could do in time. Time seemed to slow and Harry could only watch, from the floor and on his side, as the green beam raced toward Neville's chest.

His eyes widened as he tried to move, tried to kick Neville away, tried to do anything to save his friend, but either from shock, exhaustion, or a concussion, he could do nothing.

But he didn't have to.

From the corner of his eye, he made out . . . something . . . something small sailing forth from the top of Neville's side table and directly into the path of the green beam.

"Ribbit. . . ."

It was over in an instant, and the faint 'plop' of the small shape landing right by his head rang loudly in Harry's ears. All the while, Voldemort was firing spells randomly about the room in some kind of fit, totally having lost control of himself.

"Trevor?" Neville breathed, utterly stunned as he stared down at the first meaningful gift he had ever received laying right beside his best friend's bleeding face.

Harry's heart clenched for his friend, but he knew now was not the time for grieving as he quickly struggled to his knees, scooped Trevor up, and shoved Neville the rest of the way behind the cover they had almost gotten behind.

As their forms hunched down behind the mound of shredded mattress, curtains, and bed frame, Voldemort continued his assault, but his tantrum was soon answered by an unwavering declaration and a powerful blasting hex right at the center of his flabby back.

"PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!"

His body catapulted forward, slamming into the wall directly in the path of the door as the room's lights were turned on.

Professor Sprout had arrived.

Harry and the others remained where they were as Voldemort rotated about. He was even more atrocious in the light than he had been in the dark.

Although the overweight man Voldemort was obviously occupying was cleanly shaven, it did little to help his appearance. His hair was wiry, although combed, and despite his dark and sleek clothing, it made him look more like Uncle Vernon attending a funeral than an intimidating wizard.

He lifted his wand, revealing his right hand which was missing the forefinger.

At the sight, Sprout released a quick gasp, before immediately continuing her offensive and entering the room.

With precise flicks of her wand, she launched chunks of debris from the floor at him, forcing him to dodge or deflect them instead of casting as many curses as he would have otherwise.

She was relentless, but he wasn't the most feared Dark Lord since Grindelwald for nothing.

Deflecting the items being magically thrown by Sprout (though many struck him anyway, as he seemed to have been at least partially blinded by Harry's powerful lumos), he brought his hands to his chest. His wand was directly in front of his sternum as he gathered his magic, ignoring a slab of wood striking his shoulder.

"Rah!" he shouted, opening his arms in a terrifying display of magical prowess.

Everything in the room was ruthlessly slammed back away from him, including Harry and the other boys. Fragile items, like glass and pottery, exploded as the pulse of power brushed past them. Harry's glass lenses cracked, but thankfully, due to muggle technology, they remained in their frames. Professor Sprout stood her ground, but had to protect herself from the items tossed about from the wave of thick magic.

And then Voldemort truly went on the offensive.

Harry and Neville stared in absolute horror as he whipped his wand about, and though it was clear he was having serious trouble seeing, his casting ability had not been hampered.

Fire erupted from his wand as a harsh series of hisses came forth from his mouth.

"Boys, behind me!" Sprout cried, dashing forward and sweeping her wand before her with an earnest purpose.

Harry and the others didn't need to be told twice, though Ernie had to pull Smith with him from the bed as they all fled behind Sprout while Voldemort expelled even more flames from his wand and sent it out toward them all.

Harry was the last one behind Sprout, turning as he felt the heat of fire licking at his back.

"Professor!" he couldn't help but cry, alarmed as Sprout simply stood there, the flames rushing toward her.

But she was not idle.

She shifted her stance, swinging her wand in a mighty arc toward the ceiling. A clear dome appeared over her and the doorway, absorbing the heat and protecting them as she swept her wand across again. The fire was slammed aside, being propelled up and back as she thrust her free hand in that direction as well, forcing it into the top, right edge of the room.

Through his shattered lenses and the transparent, conjured dome, Harry was barely able to make out Voldemort's form under the flames as something utterly bizarre happened.

Voldemort was shrinking, and very quickly — transforming into something entirely inhuman.

A rat?

As Sprout continued to battle the flames, they saw the rat scurry to the left wall, where Harry and Neville's beds had once been, vanishing into a hole at the bottom of the stone wall.

Suddenly, Harry felt himself yanked backward, away from the doorway and further into the hall of the dormitory. There were many sounds of movement, but all Harry saw was a rush of colorful robes closely followed by pitch black and a flurry of other robes of varying color and size.

"Get them back, Severus!" a voice, clearly belonging to Dumbledore, shouted.

Harry gasped as someone continued to pull him further away, before they suddenly stopped and applied pressure to the wounds on his face. Blinking, the wadded cloth was shifted so he could see, and he quickly found himself on the floor and in the arms of Cedric Diggory, who had removed his own outer robes and were using them to slow the bleeding.

To his right, he saw Professor Snape's back and realized he had somehow been taken to the Hufflepuff common room in that time of chaotic movement. From the angle he could see, he noticed that the potion master had his wand out, and was blocking the entryway.

He turned his eyes away, trying to see who else was in the room.

He found Smith and Ernie on the couch beside some prefects, who were making sure they were alright. Justin was talking to Professor McGonagall and Neville was kneeling quietly beside Cedric, his eyes falling to Harry's left hand.

Oh. He was still holding Trevor. Coral lowered her head sadly toward the amphibian.

Sitting up, Cedric adjusting the cloth accordingly, Harry raised his eyes and met Neville's gaze.

"Here, Neville," he whispered, gently offering the limp toad to him.

Neville's eyes were already filled with tears as he took Trevor and quickly brought him to his chest.

There were no words to be said.

O o O o O

"It's a beautiful place to have him rest, Neville," Hagrid said gruffly as he gave the lumpy stone a firm hit with his fist to stick it in the earth.

Harry, Neville, Professor Sprout, and Hagrid were behind Hagrid's hut, gathered before the small resting place of Neville's former pet.

They would all be heading home the next day, allowing the Professors to finally begin placing and improving the castle's wards later that week. The attack on Harry by the 'dark wizard' (the Ministry did not wish to confirm it was in fact Voldemort, possession or no) had been made public, as it was impossible to keep it a secret when so many students in the dormitory had heard the curses and Professor Sprout combating flames. Not to mention the completely ruined dorm room. . . . Thankfully, the things in their trunks had made it unscathed. The flames had not had time to burn through them, so things like Harry's invisibility cloak were completely fine, to their great relief. Professor Sprout had also been able to return Harry's primary wand to him, though its handle had been slightly charred. Other than that though, it was undamaged and was still able to be used.

The hours following the attack had past in a blur, being checked over and cured by Madam Pomfrey (she didn't allow Harry to use parselmagic due to the concussion and mild magical fatigue) and questioned by the Headmaster. In the end, they determined the Dark Lord had managed to possess an animagus and infiltrate the school as a rat would — through the crevasses in the walls. Harry suspected there was more going on, but, at this point, he didn't want to know.

Neville sniffled, giving the small gravestone a gentle pat. "I'll never forget you, Trevor."

He stepped back beside Harry, both of them looking down at the stone, which had carefully been engraved by their Head of House.

Here Lies Trevor the Toad

The Unexpected Hero

Familiar of Neville Longbottom

August 27th 1991 – June 26th 1992