"Sit down over here, Mr. Potter," Severus instructed, leading him to the black leather chair next to the fireplace. "The Headmaster will be here shortly."

Severus was thinking furiously, trying to manipulate the situation to his liking. He had seen the opportunity presented to him the moment Harry told him about his peculiar headaches and immediately reacted. Now, he was glad he had, for he had just seen the damage the Dark Lord had done to the boy's mind in a mere week's time.

No wonder it had been so hard to teach him Occlumency in fifth year! Harry's mind had been under assault in his first year nearly non-stop when his magic was in its early and fragile stages of development. And then, later, there was what had happened in fourth and fifth year. . . .

Harry's mind had undoubtedly been weakened, and then, on top of that, there was the treatment he had received from the Dursleys. Severus felt like an absolute dunderhead. Of course, in the future, he had realized Harry's mind had suffered under the Dark Lord, making his mastering of Occlumency extremely difficult for him, but it was only now that he fully understood the extent of the mental damage the original Harry had had to overcome.

The respect he had for his young, old friend grew, and a part of him saddened, knowing he would never see him again — at least, not quite.

Severus looked at the boy before him, finding his bright green eyes full of concern. The sadness in him receded, knowing the Harry he had left would want him to look on the positive side of things, and recognize the chance he had been given to make the future brighter, not only for the Wizarding World, but for Harry and . . . yes, even himself.

"We will stop this from continuing, Mr. Potter," Severus said, deciding he needed to offer some sort of comfort. "You have my word."

That seemed to ease the tension in Harry's shoulders greatly, for which Severus was thankful.

Just then, a green flash came from the fireplace, the colorful Headmaster stepping out with Professor Sprout right behind him.

Severus wished he knew what Dumbledore was thinking just then. It was not every day that a Head of House would come directly to his office and ask him to go with them to the office of another Head of House — let alone Slytherin's.

Severus suddenly wondered what Sprout had told the Headmaster.

"Headmaster," Severus said, bowing his head slightly as he stepped beside the large leather chair, which dwarfed Harry. The boy's feet were dangling over the seat's edge, his tiny frame almost completely hidden behind the armrest and cushioned side panel. It was angled, so it was not directly facing the fireplace.

"Severus, what has happened? Pomona said you just discovered one of her Puffs was being mentally attacked," Albus said immediately, keeping his calm exterior, though his eyes revealed his alarm.

"Yes, Headmaster." Severus turned to Harry, alerting Dumbledore to his presence.

Harry bit his lip as the old wizard turned his blue eyes to him. "Hello, Headmaster," Harry managed, doing his best to imitate Severus' respectful nod.

The potions master could tell Harry was nervous, and, perhaps, in awe of the wizard he had no doubt read about in his self summer studies. Then again, he may have been confusing Harry's expression — it could simply be gratitude, since the headmaster had given him permission to have two pets. Seconds later, Harry proved it was the latter.

"Thanks for allowing me to have two pets, sir. I hadn't been able to thank you properly," Harry said after a moment.

Albus smiled. "It was no trouble, my boy," he said as Coral raised her head and looked up at him.

Harry smiled back shyly as the small snake waved the end of her tail. The old wizard blinked, though his eyes briefly twinkled before he looked to Severus expectantly.

"I don't know how much Professor Sprout was able to tell you, but I have reason to believe someone has been trying to invade Mr. Potter's mind. They have already made a disturbing amount of progress, as Mr. Potter's young mind has no defenses for such attacks."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, before he looked at Harry worriedly, making no effort to mask his emotions.

"He has been suffering headaches in Defense Against the Dark Arts and occasionally in the Great Hall. Headaches that start at his scar and spread out to the rest of his skull," Severus explained further.

Albus kneeled down on the floor to get to Harry's eye level. "Harry, tell me when this first started and how it felt," he stated.

Harry told him about his first DADA lesson, and then how he began having headaches in the Great Hall too. He told him how the headaches would begin as a dull throb at his scar before growing into a burning pain that encompassed his entire forehead. He said it was always worse in DADA.

Moving forward, the headmaster gazed intently at Harry's scar, slowly lifting his old wrinkled hand before he paused. "May I, Harry?"

"Yes, sir. I understand you're trying to figure this out. I don't want to have these headaches anymore," Harry said honestly.

Albus smiled, before brushing Harry's hair away so he could have a clear view of his scar. He then brushed his thumb over the legendary mark, his blue eyes staring at it intently before muttering a few words Harry couldn't identify, but they were definitely in a foreign language. Latin, if he had to guess.

With the words uttered, a gentle coolness came from the old wizard's thumb and brushed away the growing headache Professor Snape had unavoidably caused. As that happened, Harry watched as the Headmaster's eyes closed in concentration.

Harry glanced to Snape beside him without moving, not wanting to interrupt the Headmaster. He found the dark robed professor intrigued, before he looked to Professor Sprout. She looked anxious and a little concerned as she continued to watch Dumbledore do whatever he was doing.

Harry was certain the Headmaster wasn't doing anything with his mind. He felt no pressure and could sense no presence or growing throb he learned to associate with a mental invasion. Instead, there was an energy dancing across his skin, leaving a tingling sensation on his scar before dissipating with a soft pulse.

With his eyes still closed, Dumbledore patted Harry tenderly on the cheek before lowering his hand. Harry got the strangest impression that the Headmaster was trying to contain his emotions.

"Pomona, inform Minerva and Filius that all students must report to their dormitories immediately and remain there until further notice, no exceptions. Tell the Prefects this is a direct order from me and said order is to be carried out as a lockdown," he said levelly, still not opening his eyes. "Go now."

Pomona gave a nod before disappearing into the fireplace with a green flash.

"Headmaster, if this is what it appears to be, you should not approach him on your own. May I suggest calling the Aurors? Madam Bones can be trusted and her assistance may be needed if this goes to trial," Severus said sagely.

Harry wanted to ask what was going on, but by the look on Severus' face he knew he should remain quiet. Now was not the time to ask what Aurors were or who the Headmaster should not approach on his own. Maybe he would be able to ask later.

"I agree, Severus." He opened his eyes, looking straight at Harry. "Thank you for trusting your Head of House and Professor Snape enough to bring your concern to them and being honest. I cannot tell you how important it was, at least, not yet."

Harry looked down, a little embarrassed with the sentiments.

:He is very angry, Harry. Whatever he learned from touching you . . . he is very angry. His magic is furiously bubbling at his center. I can practically taste it: Coral hissed quietly. :Can you feel it?:

Harry blinked, looking back up at the Headmaster. Yes, he could feel something. It was hot and pulsing very quietly around them. Was this magic? Was this Albus Dumbledore's magic barely being contained and controlled?

"I just wanted the headaches to stop, sir, and I hoped they would be able to help me," Harry admitted.

"Well, just the same. You could have ignored it and hoped the pain would go away," Dumbledore said kindly, before standing up. "I believe it would be best for you to take the floo to your Common Room, Harry. Once you get there, do not leave. Professor McGonagall should be making the announcement soon."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, going to the fireplace where Professor Snape held out a bowl of powder.

"It's floo powder, Mr. Potter. Take a handful, step into the fireplace, clearly state, 'Hufflepuff Common Room,' and throw the powder down. You will then arrive in your common room. Be careful, it can be a rough landing if you are not expecting it," Severus advised.

"Yes, sir." Receiving departing nods from the professors, Harry did as he was told, and disappeared in a flash of green.

O o O o O

The moment Harry was safely away, Albus turned toward Severus, his eyes now a dangerous ice blue. "I had known something wasn't quite right. . . ." He shook his head, his hands forming into tight, angry fists. "Quirrell has been in contact with Voldemort; his magic has been tainted heavily by Tom's dark magic. One way or another, that man will be out of Hogwarts before the day is done."

Severus blinked, not even needing to feign surprise as Dumbledore grabbed a handful of floo and went to his knees, throwing the powder in the fireplace to make a floo-call.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement!"

Severus watched as Dumbledore spoke adamantly with Madam Bones, the head of the department, quickly giving a brief outline of what was going on. He left out who the Hufflepuff was, but made it quite clear he was furious that it had happened and that he wanted the culprit to be caught and tried under the full force of the law.

Just then, McGonagall spoke over the magical intercoms, informing the students in no uncertain terms to get to their dormitories immediately. Severus was certain no one would be disobeying that order after hearing the stern tone in Minerva's voice.

Focusing back to his mentor, Severus could not hear what Madam Bones was saying, but got the gist of the conversation simply by listening to Albus' replies.

"I am confident it is Quirinus Quirrell. I was able to sense the man's magic on the student," he stated flatly, barely containing his outrage. "I have already issued a lockdown and want this to be taken care of immediately. I do not want that man a minute longer than necessary in my castle and near my students!"

A moment after that statement, he must have gotten the answer he wanted for he was up and heading toward the door. Severus was about to follow when the fireplace flared, spitting out three individuals: Madam Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a wizard Severus was certain was called Markus Aralium. He was a strong wizard but had unfortunately been killed early on in the war, not long before Hogwarts had fallen.

Madam Bones and the two Aurors quickly fell into step behind Albus, only giving Severus a brief nod as they went.

"He is in his office," Dumbledore stated.

No one questioned how he knew this.

Severus knew it was from being Headmaster. While on the grounds, the Headmaster could ask the magic of Hogwarts to inform him where certain people were, especially if they were suspected of heinous acts.

Going down the hall devoid of all students, they headed to the DADA classroom. Once the door was in sight, they could suddenly feel the power of Albus' magic radiating from him. Severus briefly recalled the exploding bookcase and hoped his mentor had better control of himself this time — though, a morbid part of him did hope to see Quirrell splatter against a wall.

"Do not underestimate him," Dumbledore stated. "I doubt he will come quietly."

He opened the door and took a few steps in, the others entering behind him.

Quirrell was at the front of the room, situating the things on his desk.

"H-headmaster, h-has som-something ha-happened? I-I h-heard P-prof-fessor M-McGonagall ear-earlier." he said. "I-is someth-thing th-the ma-matter?"

Dumbledore came to a stop in the middle of the room, staring quite harshly at the stuttering professor.

Severus shut the classroom door behind him and subtly called his wand into his hand, which was easily hidden by the sleeve of his robes.

"Quirinus, you are to relinquish your wand and leave with Madam Bones and the two gentlemen with her," Dumbledore stated.

"W-what? I-I don't un-understand, He-headmaster," he continued to stutter.

Severus wanted to hex his mouth off.

"You mentally assaulted a student. I will not stand for that and will not permit you to remain on the grounds of Hogwarts, let alone be a professor within her walls. Now leave," Albus stated, his blue eyes flashing angrily.

And that was when the stuttering professor lost his confused and concerned expression.

"I can't do that," he stated, his voice torn between rage and terror.

"KILL THEM!"

The extremely hateful voice had seemingly come from Quirrell himself, but his lips had not moved. However, the Headmaster and Severus both recognized the voice.

Severus acted instinctively just as Quirrell lifted his wand hand toward Madam Bones. Evidently, he was not confident enough to aim for Dumbledore, his closest target.

A green bolt shot toward Madam Bones, only to be intercepted by a table Severus had just summoned to fly in front of her. The table exploded, shards of wood going everywhere, the largest piece slamming into her. It looked painful, Severus thought, but at least she would live.

Albus and Kingsley returned fire, but Quirrell was not Voldemort's host for nothing. He twisted out of the way, weaving his wand around himself as it released a hideous black smoke.

"KILL THEM!" the voice shouted again, this time as a harsh hiss.

"Severus, seal the room!" Dumbledore ordered as he thrust his wand forward and stepped in front of Markus, who was moving to assist Bones.

Severus did as he was told, knowing the black mist was a death warrant for any who touched or breathed it in. They could not allow it to leak into the rest of the school, no matter the cost. The potions master turned back after casting to see what Dumbledore was doing. He had conjured a bubble and it was absorbing the blackness, its movements being controlled by the Headmaster's free hand.

"KILL!" the voice shouted again.

"I'm trying, Master!" Quirrell answered, his wand spewing the dark mess all around.

But Dumbledore kept at it, not allowing the smoke to come near them, until Quirrell abandoned that route, and moved to cast something else.

"No more of this!" Albus roared, utterly furious, his beard whipping around him as he slammed the tip of his wand into his palm.

KAHBOOM!

Severus and the others were propelled back, the very walls and floor shaking violently from the blast that came from the center of the room. With the resounding boom, the potions master was certain the entire school had felt it. Forcing himself to sit up, he opened his eyes to find the black mist gone and a blue liquid speckling the floor. His eyes widened. Dumbledore had just done Alchemy. Advanced Alchemy.

Moving to get up, he suddenly felt something trickle down from his right ear. Blood. With a wince, Severus realized his eardrum had burst from the sudden pressure difference that had resulted from the reaction. He was certain he was not the only one who had blown an eardrum, but thankfully his left was alright and Madam Pomfrey could heal the right easily enough.

Shaking himself, he looked to where Albus had last been, only to find his mentor still standing boldly in front of Quirrell, who was back against his desk.

"You cannot stop the Dark Lord," the no longer stuttering man said.

Albus said nothing, but narrowed his eyes and tilted his wand ever so slightly.

"He will return! And he will kill the Potter Brat!" Quirrell ranted, any hint of a sound mind completely gone now.

"Yessss, I will," the voice agreed.

Kingsley and Markus were frozen on either side of Bones, who was just now opening her eyes. Severus was on the other side of the room, closest to the door. Dumbledore remained where he had been, in the middle of the room, blocking Quirrell's escape.

"Stop hiding, Tom," Albus stated flatly, flicking his wand sharply to the side and causing Quirrell's turban to unravel.

Quirrell gasped and tried to stop it, but he was too slow. Madam Bones and her two Aurors had a clear view of his master from where they were.

"Voldemort . . ." Madam Bones breathed. Kingsley and Markus were speechless.

"Yesss, you ssseee? I am not dead . . . I cannot die . . ." he said, making Quirrell turn his head so he could better look at them.

Just as his hideous face was fully facing them, Quirrell faltered, his legs giving out from under him.

"M-master!" Quirrell cried. "I-I can't f-feel my legs!"

"You fool!" Voldemort screeched.

"You poisoned yourself, Quirinus," Albus stated, his eyes shining with his magic. "You should have been more careful when you had been casting. The Black Death is spreading throughout your body right now."

"No!" he gasped as his body continued to fail, making him crumple against the side of his broken desk.

"Old man," Voldemort said, no longer caring about the state of Quirrell as he made eye contact with Dumbledore. "I will return, just wait. Nothing will prevent me from doing so."

"And so I will remain here, in your way," Albus replied. "Nothing will move me."

Voldemort sneered, before his incorporeal self rose from Quirrell's now motionless body. Dumbledore responded by throwing several bright spells from his wand, which immediately resulted in Voldemort's quick departure. . . .

O o O o O

Severus leaned back in his leather chair, grateful the hectic day was done.

Madam Bones had spoken to the Wizengamot and had given them her report about Voldemort and Quirrell. She had even given her memory about it. Kingsley and Markus were quick to offer theirs as well, but it was not needed.

The Wizarding World was in for a shock the next morning, he was certain about that. Thanks to Madam Bones' backing of Albus Dumbledore, the entire Wizengamot accepted the fact that the Dark Lord was not completely gone. This, understandably, resulted in votes of setting up higher security within the Wizarding World and providing Hogwarts the means to place more powerful wards, which Albus had requested many times in the past, but had been turned down due to the belief that such precautions were unnecessary and overkill.

Well, it definitely wasn't unnecessary or overkill now.

Severus whirled the liquid in his glass, trying to calm himself.

The only unfortunate thing in all of this, besides the light structural damage (from Albus' Alchemic spell), Quirrell's demise, their burst eardrums (which Pomfrey immediately fixed when they came to her), was the fact the improved wards would not be able to be placed until the summer holidays. It would take several weeks to place the runes and stones on and around the grounds, and then another week to fully activate the new and improved wards on top of the old ones.

Severus wished they could place them sooner, but it could not be helped. However, there was solace in knowing that once the wards had been placed, harmful objects (such as that accursed diary) would not be able to enter the walls of Hogwarts. Such items would immediately be detected and quarantined, until released and taken by the Headmaster. This sort of ward information was only privy to the Heads of Houses and the Headmaster himself.

Severus smirked.

Lucius would fail much sooner this time.

But Severus quickly shook himself. He could not allow himself to get ahead of the present. He was changing things; so much of the future was already null and void. He had to be cautious and very vigilant. Which reminded him, he needed to speak with Draco soon, and make sure things were developing there as they should. He did not want a Lucius Jr., and did not want Draco to suffer what he had last time . . . agonizing regret.

O o O o O

The Wizarding World was in a state of shock. The Wizengamot had just disclosed the events that had transpired on Friday.

The fact Voldemort had been on the back of Quirrell's head was not quite made public knowledge. However, what the public did know included how Quirrell was caught, the fact he was a devout follower of the Dark Lord, and that he had been host to the spirit of You-Know-Who, who was not quite as dead as they had believed.

Some people didn't know what to think, but many others believed. To them, it was enough that the Wizengamot had ruled it true, and enough that the Ministry was taking action against the not-so-dead Dark Lord.

One thing was certain, however, no one could question Albus Dumbledore's devotion to and protection of his students. As soon as they had been able, the students of Hogwarts wrote home, telling their families of the large explosion they had heard and how it had rocked the entire castle. That same day, at the Wizengamot, Dumbledore gave a statement, saying he was the one who had caused the blast, and that it was during the duel with Quirrell. He did not go into detail, but later the Aurors reported that Madam Pomfrey had healed the Headmaster's eardrums, as well as those of the others who had been present, and that she said that the Headmaster told her he had needed to perform alchemy to combat the Black Death spell, which Quirrell had cast.

With that news, the press went crazy, speculating about how grand the duel had been and how the Headmaster of Hogwarts had stood against evil once again, protecting his students.

Dumbledore was not present to comment.

O o O o O

The weekend passed in a blur. The school was all hyped on what had happened and how Aurors had gone through the school soon after it had happened to search for any other evidence and to take quotes from professors. The only thing the students knew for sure was that the ex-professor had mentally assaulted a Hufflepuff student, and that that student had been wise enough to report the odd feeling to their Head of House who was then able to bring the student to the Headmaster.

Of course, rumors of who that student was ran rampant. A few people believed it had been Cedric Diggory, since he had been called after class for something earlier that week in DADA, but he denied having anything to do with what had happened. Others thought it was Harry Potter because, well, he was the boy-who-lived and would be the obvious target of an agent of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry pulled a Cedric and denied it as well, especially after hearing the whole story from Professor Snape.

"Mr. Potter, I trust you will keep what I have told you to yourself," he stated after giving a blunt overview of what had transpired after Harry had left his office Friday. "Although you may disclose these things to Mr. Longbottom, if you must."

"Of course, sir." Harry shivered, despite being next to the fireplace in Snape's office. "He really had him at the back of his head?"

"Yes, which is why I believe your scar reacted the way it had. Being an old injury from him, it is sensitive to his magic."

"So when he tried getting in my head . . . ?" Harry asked, before biting his bottom lip in unease.

"Correct. Which brings me to the other reason I asked you here." Severus pulled a book from one of the bookcases on the side wall and handed it to Harry. "I want you to begin reading this. It is not particularly crucial you finish it before the end of term, as you have more pressing priorities, like school work, but I felt you would appreciate having it at your disposal."

Harry looked down at the cover and read, 'The Art of Occlumency: One's Mental Defense.' His eyes widened as his hand moved over the bindings. "Thank you, sir."

"Reading this will not protect you yet. For that, you will need personal instruction in Occlumency, which is explained in detail within."

"Are you going to teach me?" Harry asked suddenly, bringing the book closer to himself. Coral's tongue flicked over the book's title.

"Perhaps, but your magic must be a bit more mature than it is right now. Teaching you this too early can hamper your development, and as you still have to overcome the block and previous treatment from the Dursleys, I feel it would be unwise to begin serious instruction of this before your third year."

Harry's shoulders slouched a little, but he understood what the professor was saying.

"Okay, so you're giving me this to read to get me ready for when I do learn it?"

"Yes. The book will help prepare you for future instruction, as well as help you begin the process of building up defenses. However, it is no substitute for real training."

"I understand, sir. Thank you."

"One other thing, Mr. Potter. Do not read that in the open. It is . . . not quite a book that is widely accepted. Some argue it is a side door into the Dark Arts. Granted, it can make one interested in the offensive side of the mind, Legilimency, but that in and of itself is hardly Dark. After all, it is how one uses magic that makes it good or evil."

"So Voldemort used Legil . . ."

"Legilimency," Severus supplied.

"Yeah, he used that on me?"

"He did, but then I had used it to discover what was happening. Do you see now, Mr. Potter?"

Harry tilted his head. "I think so, sir."

"Very good; however, if you have questions, don't stop yourself from asking me. I will always be honest with you, Mr. Potter. I may not always be able to tell you everything, but what I do say will always be the truth."

"Okay, Professor. Um, I will always be honest with you too," Harry answered.

"And that is all I expect in return, Mr. Potter," he said, his black eyes holding a rare softness.

O o O o O

Harry entered Potions on Monday, still feeling a little overwhelmed with everything that had happened. He had told Neville what had occurred in Professor Snape's office, and what Dumbledore had said and done. He also gave a short summary of what Snape had told him about Quirrell.

It was all very strange. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Quirrell had played host to Voldemort's spirit, and the more he thought about it, the more grateful he was to Neville and Coral for convincing him to go to the professor. He knew it had likely saved his mind, maybe even his life.

He sat down in the seat he had claimed as his own. Neville sat beside him.

They hadn't been able to visit Hagrid during the weekend because of the Auror investigation that commenced, but had sent him a note with Hedwig that they would try to visit him the following weekend.

"We should be learning about the uses of Rosemary today," Neville whispered. "I wonder if he'll discuss its uses with other plants."

Harry shrugged, looking forward to the lesson himself. He was hopeful that lessons would bring things back to how they had been earlier the previous week. He just wanted to get past what had happened and his place in it all. He wanted to get back to working hard and learning about magic.

Harry's wish was granted, and as the day continued, talk of Quirrell became more scattered and less rampant. The students went back to talking about lessons and spreading pointless rumors about who liked who and what so and so had done during the crazy weekend. Talk about flying lessons also surfaced. They would be held for all houses later that week, on Thursday.

Entering DADA, Harry was hopeful the week would continue without incident.

"Are you sure he's not just hiding in our dorm room?" a boy asked the red haired boy.

"Yes, he's not anywhere," Weasley muttered sorrowfully. "I've looked everywhere. I don't know where he is. He's just disappeared."

"I'm sure your pet will show up, Ron. I mean, that Longbottom boy's pet is said to disappear all the time, and he comes back."

Weasley sighed. "I hope so."

Harry felt for the boy. He didn't know what he would do if Coral or Hedwig went missing. He hoped Weasley would find his pet soon, even though it was a rat.

"Good morning," the Headmaster greeted the first year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students with a smile as he stepped into the room. "I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts until a more permanent replacement can be found." Dumbledore looked at them all, pausing ever so briefly on Harry.

The students were staring at him in awe. No one had told them the Headmaster would be filling in for DADA.

"Well, I think a practical demonstration may be beneficial today. Two volunteers, please?" he asked.

Immediately, a dozen hands flew up. Harry spotted Granger as one of them, as well as most of the Gryffindors. Only a few Hufflepuffs raised their hands. Harry and Neville did not.

"Ah, Ms. Bones and Mr. Thomas. Thank you," he said, motioning them up to the front of the room. "Now, today we are going to work on a simple defensive spell that is still often used by aurors. The wand motion is like so." He demonstrated, showing it to them from several different angles. "Once you have cast it a few times, the wand movement is not as vital, and you can learn to cast it silently with practice."

Many of the students 'ooo'ed at that.

"The incantation is 'Expelliarmus'," he continued, pronouncing it clearly. He then had them repeat it after him. "Very good. Now, Ms. Bones, I would like you over here," he said, silently casting something that placed pillows and padding on the walls behind her before doing the same behind Thomas. Making sure there was nothing near to hurt them, he nodded. "Face each other and cast when you are ready."

Dean Thomas looked at Susan Bones, both of them straightening as they got ready to cast at each other.

Feeling they were both ready, they cast, trying to move their wands correctly while saying the incantation.

Dean's spell veered off course, hitting the wall behind Susan just as Susan's spell left her wand. It hit Dean in the elbow and caused his wand to fly up into the air.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore congratulated. "Both of you, you have done well for that being your first try. Mr. Thomas, work on your aim and you will be marvelous. Ms. Bones, work on your speed and you will be a difficult opponent."

Pleased with the praise, they both beamed.

"Now, I would like the rest of you to pair up and do just what they had," he instructed as all of the walls became padded. When the students left their desks, the desks vanished and their bags moved to the far end of the room.

"Wow," Harry breathed, fascinated with the magic before turning to Neville.

"Ready, Harry?" he asked nervously, wand in hand and in position.

Harry nodded with a smile. With that, they cast the spell, or, in Neville's case, tried to.

Neville stumbled back and fell as his wand landed beside Harry. Harry hurried to his friend.

"Neville, are you okay?" he asked.

Neville nodded, embarrassed. "Yeah, the floor's cushioned too."

Getting up, Neville looked up to find the Headmaster stepping beside Harry. Neville silently decided Dumbledore could be a daunting figure if he wanted to be, for the way he was currently standing beside Harry, he no longer looked like the dotting head of the school. Neville was reminded that this was the wizard who had listened to Professor Snape and had taken down the stuttering professor who had fooled them all.

"Alright there, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, helping him up.

"Yes, professor," Neville managed with a heavy swallow.

"You were holding your wand too tightly, Mr. Longbottom," he said lightly, before holding out his hand back to where Neville's wand was and calling it to himself. He then handed it to Neville, who was now wide-eyed at seeing wandless magic. "Here, let me help you," he said, moving to stand behind him.

Neville just blinked before looking at Harry.

"Mr. Potter, please return to your previous position and cast again when you are ready."

Harry nodded and hurried back.

The other students had stopped practicing and were now curiously watching.

Dumbledore was standing right behind Neville and had his hand over Neville's right, which was holding the wand.

"Loosely now. Your wand is not a sword to be swung, but a brush to stroke on a canvas," the old wizard said.

Neville nodded, before beginning to cast, Dumbledore's hand helping guide the motion.

"Expelliarmus!" Neville shouted, just as Harry did the same.

Two wands clattered to the floor soon after, having flown from the hands of their owners.

"Well done," the Headmaster said, before looking to the other students and causing them to get back to practicing.

Neville and Harry were smiling broadly at each other as they prepared to do it again.

After the lesson ended, all of the students were thinking the same thing. Albus Dumbledore was definitely a better teacher than Quirrell. They also privately hoped it would be a long time before a replacement was found.

O o O o O

Severus opened his door, allowing Draco to enter.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Draco asked, a little uncertain with why he had been told to come to his godfather's quarters after dinner.

"Yes, I did, Draco," he said, using his first name to let him know he was there as his godson, not his student.

The boy smiled softly and looked a little more at ease as Severus motioned him to sit down at his couch.

His outer quarters, which was where they were, was open to his Slytherins, though only if they felt they needed to speak with him about something. It was not a study area or a place to relax. It was a place to talk.

"I see you have made at least one friend outside of your house," he began lightly.

"If you're talking about Potter, Godfather, maybe."

Severus gave Draco a rare small smile. "I am glad to hear that."

Draco blinked, not exactly surprised but uncertain. "You are?"

A few of the Slytherins snickered when they learned he was friends with Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived who had been sorted into the house of left-overs.

"Mr. Potter would be fortunate to have a friend like you beside him, just as you would be to count him as one of your friends."

"So, he will be a strong wizard?" Draco asked, his trained mind going back to the things his father had told him about gaining useful allies and 'friends'.

Severus narrowed his eyes, just enough to show Draco he did not approve of where his thoughts were going.

"Whether he will be or not is immaterial. What I am telling you is that your friendship could be very powerful, and no, I am not referring to a friendship that would bring you power in the things your father talks of, but in something much more everlasting."

Draco's eyes widened.

"What I am talking about is a genuine friendship, one where he trusts you implicitly, and you return that trust equally."

"You mean, like I would trust my life to him, and he would trust his life to me?"

"Yes, and even the lives of others, if need be."

Draco frowned. "What are you saying, Sev?" he asked, using the nickname he had given him as a toddler.

Severus knew he had to tread carefully here. He had to remind himself Draco was still only a child, and not the adult he had left. He did not know the horrors of war and of death, did not know the cost of betrayal or failure, nor the salvation held within true mercy and forgiveness.

"I know it will be difficult for you to understand right now, but I need you to trust me and keep the things I tell you to yourself. I am putting my trust in you that you will do this," he said, looking Draco in the eyes.

"Yes, Godfather."

"Including from your father, Draco. For his protection and for yours," he stated very seriously.

Draco swallowed, nodding. After the years of knowing Severus, Draco had learned the man's words were better than his father's, and that the things he said should be heeded.

"What has this to do with my friendship with Potter, though?" Draco questioned after a moment.

"Your father will only see how Potter can be used. He will not see the true benefits of a real friendship. I trust you understand the nature of your father in that regard."

Draco nodded sagely at that. He often wondered why his father was the way he was. Why he had no friends, only 'allies' and 'useful workers'. Sure, he used the word 'friend', but it did not hold the real meaning.

"You can grow to become a better man than your father, Draco. You can grow to become a better man than myself. You just have to realize sooner than I have where true power lies."

"I think I understand, Godfather."

"I hope you do, Draco. My greatest wish is that you will become all you should be. I do not only wish for you to become a great wizard, but to be a great and, yes . . . even a kind man all people can respect."

Draco tilted his head. "Has something happened? Is it why you are telling me this?"

"I have discovered some things."

"Is it because of Quirrell and You-Know-Who?"

Severus fought back a sigh. Draco really was an inquisitive child.

"That is only part of it."

"But you can't tell me more," Draco gathered, a little bummed.

"Not right now."

"But you will tell me someday, won't you?" he asked, suddenly earnest.

Severus smiled sadly. "I hope . . . someday." And he really did.

"Okay," Draco said, not really knowing what to think about this conversation, but content in doing what his godfather had said.

Sev had never steered him wrong . . . unlike his father.