Harry gazed around at his classmates attempting the newest spell in Defense: the Disillusionment Charm. He’d had it cast on him before, but had, naturally, never cast it on himself. Severus had introduced it only the other day and, so far, no one had been completely successful. Severus was wandering through the paired students, mostly snapping, sneering, and rolling his eyes.

He briefly wondered why the man had switched to Defense. Despite the stress of the classroom, Severus loved Potions and, at least in his memories, had never wanted to switch subjects.

“Potter, would you pay attention?”

Draco’s annoyed voice pulled his attention away from Severus and back to his brother. He snorted and held back a laugh as he took in Draco’s missing head except for a single eye. It was both hilarious and extremely disconcerting.

“It’s…progress,” he said and, by the narrowing of the floating eye, he knew Draco was scowling at him. “You missed an eye.”

Draco cursed quietly and waved his wand, muttering, “Finite.” His head shimmered and reappeared as the Disillusionment was removed. He looked at Harry, crossing his arms. “Well? Let’s go, Mr. Power.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that’s made any difference.”

He went to tap his head to try the charm once again, but paused when he felt a very light ripple in the air around him. Ever since his magic increase, he’d found himself a bit more sensitive to the magic around him, especially Hogwarts’. He could detect changes in power and intent, at least sometimes anyways.

He looked around even though he was sure nothing would look different. He supposed he wanted to see if anyone else had felt the ripple. It didn’t appear so as they continued to practice with Severus hanging over them.

“Let’s go,” Draco pushed, irritated.

“Did you feel anything?” Harry asked.

Draco frowned and shook his head.

“Something changed,” Harry said, deepening Draco’s frown.

“Well, ignore it and let’s go,” Draco said.

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s snappish tone. The blonde had been more aggravated since their conversation the other day. He assumed Draco was upset that he’d had a friendship with Harry, but only Harry remembered. He understood. Being the only one that remembered anything was frustrating in its own way.

He was in the middle of the incantation when the ripple happened again. This time, however, it was followed up by an intense pain in his chest. He grasped his chest and gasped loudly, falling to his knees as his strength suddenly disappeared. He looked around, panicked, to find every other student had done the same thing. Everyone was on the floor, a hand on their chest, and gasping and groaning. The pain was joined by a strange pulsing. With each pulse, he could swear something was being drained from his body.

He found Severus whose face was filled with confusion and concern. He was trying to get answers, but no one seemed able to speak. Harry watched as the man eventually hurried over to him, crouching in front of him.

“What does it feel like?” Severus asked.

Harry took a few deep breaths through the pain. “Ball of pain…chest…pulsing…feels like…draining…” he gasped out, managing to pull his eyes up to see Severus’ expression. The man’s brow was creased as he examined what he’d been told.

“Your cores are being tapped,” Severus said quietly.

“What?” Harry frowned, groaning as the feelings continued.

“Something is draining your magic,” Severus clarified.

Harry stared at him with his own furrowed eyebrows. Why would someone take students’ magic?

“Wha…what do…we do?” Harry gasped, feeling himself getting weaker.

“There is no way to stop magical draining,” Severus said and Harry forced his eyes to open at the pain in the man’s voice. Severus looked worried and pained that he could do nothing to help any of them.

Harry couldn’t hold himself up anymore and his arm collapsed under him, sending him to the floor. He rolled onto his back, his head lolling as his eyes fluttered.

“Potter,” Severus said and Harry cracked his eyes again when he felt the man’s hand on his chest. He felt a small burst of magic at the contact and he frowned. It was hard to focus, but he managed to develop a theory.

“D…Draco,” he stuttered breathlessly. “Ha…hand.”

Severus was obviously confused, but he still reached to the side and Harry felt a hand tangle in his. At the connection between the three of them, Harry felt a stronger burst of power in him and the air pulsed around them.

Hogwarts…help us, he thought.

Where they held each other grew warm and the magic around them increased. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay conscious, but it was at that moment the magic coming from the three of them exploded, sweeping across the castle. He drew in a deep, gasping breath and heard others do the same as the draining ceased.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and joined Severus in gazing around. Everyone was moving slowly and the quiet chatter was filled with confusion. He looked over his shoulder at Draco who had pushed himself back to his knees.

“What the hell just happened?” Draco asked.

“I think Dumbledore’s trying to replace Hogwarts’ failing magic,” Harry said quietly so the others didn’t hear.

“But what did we do?” Draco asked.

“I think we used the Founders’ magic,” Harry said, gaining curious looks from Severus and Draco. “We’re the heroes. We have access to their magic, the magic of Hogwarts the way it's meant to be used. To unite and protect.”

“Will all students and staff report to the Great Hall immediately,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed throughout the school.

Harry frowned, his confusion reflected in everyone around him. Everyone climbed to their feet and headed down to the Great Hall. As they joined up with other students, the chatter indicated that the draining had been widespread and no one had any idea why they had to go to the Great Hall in the middle of class. He filed in with everyone else. They spread out and gazed up at Dumbledore standing at his podium.

“Everyone’s attention, please!” Dumbledore called out and the students quieted down. “I am sorry to interrupt lessons, but an incident has occurred that you should all be aware of.”

Dumbledore paused and his eyes roamed over the students. “As you are all aware, we have had several students in unexplainable comas for many months.”

Harry straightened where he had been leaning against the wall, his gaze sharpening.

“It is with great sadness that I must report the sudden and tragic passing of one of these students,” Dumbledore said and Harry felt his stomach twist as he stared at the headmaster in horror. “The young, delightful Colin Creevey…”

Harry didn’t hear anything else the man said. His ears were ringing with Colin’s name and he wobbled in shock.

Colin was dead?

The air around him whipped his hair and he knew it was Hogwarts communicating. She was heartbroken and furious. One of her beloved children had been murdered.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists and his gaze turned to a hateful glare.

Dumbledore had killed Colin.

Harry let out an angry shout as he violently punched the wall, ignoring the crunching pain in his fingers and the quick appearance of blood. He hung his head with his fist against the wall, not bothering to stop the tears that fell down his face.

Colin was dead.

Killed.

He’d left the funeral the moment it ended, unable to stay around Dumbledore as the man pretended to lament the boy he had murdered. He had no focus to keep up his Occlumency and he couldn’t let Dumbledore know he knew the truth.

“Hero?” a voice said and he looked up at the huge painting over the fireplace. All four Founders had left the core to fill it, all of them looking down at him with concern.

He shook his head. “I’m no hero. Dumbledore killed a student. I couldn’t stop him. He’s going to win.”

“Only if you give up,” Gryffindor said.

“We’re taking too long. We don’t know where anything is. How many more people will die?” Harry argued, finally dropping his hand from the wall. He still ignored the damaged he’d caused himself.

“You cannot save everyone,” Slytherin said.

“Then what’s the point?” Harry spat, angry in his grief.

“To one day have peace,” Ravenclaw said.

“To one day live free,” Hufflepuff said.

Harry sighed sadly, finally looking down at his injured hand. He knew the Founders were right, but it was hard. He had to keep pretending when all he wanted to do was destroy Dumbledore. They all had to keep risking everything because they couldn’t go rushing in. He was too powerful. They had to get the swords or they would lose.

“Potter?”

Harry turned to Severus in the Library’s doorway. The professor was giving him a gentle look. Harry just sighed again. He watched Severus approach him and gently grasp his injured hand. He winced as the man prodded his bones.

“Not broken,” Severus said quietly, pulling his wand to heal the cuts on his knuckles. “It will be sore for a few days.”

Harry just shrugged. His pain didn’t matter.

“We think we know where the Sword of Hufflepuff is,” Harry said, realizing they’d had no opportunity to tell Severus their theory in the last few days.

Severus looked at him sharply.

“Nurmengard,” Harry said. “Where Grindelwald is imprisoned.”

“What makes you think it is there?” Severus asked.

“There were rumours that Dumbledore and Grindelwald were…together,” Harry said. “We don’t think they were just rumours.”

“I see,” Severus said.

“We have no way of knowing if we’re right,” Harry said, regaining his fear at sending his father to such a place and a trial that may not be his.

“A risk we must take,” Severus said and Harry looked at him with watery, shining eyes.

“What if we’re wrong?” Harry whispered. If they were wrong, Severus could die.

“I do not believe you are,” Severus said.

“You trust me?” Harry said, slightly surprised since the man still did not have his memories.

“I do,” Severus said with a small smile.

A couple weeks later saw Severus gazing up at the silhouette of Nurmengard Castle, just barely illuminated by the sliver of moon high in the night sky. The pouring rain made it all the more ominous. The huge tower jutted into the sky, dwarfing the rest of the medieval structure. Even without the dark of night, the prison was made of the blackest stone, made even darker by the sheer evil of the place.

He had no idea what to expect. As far as he knew, Grindelwald was the only prisoner, held in the top of the tallest tower. He had no idea what kinds of protections could be on the prison, what type of security. He also had no idea where to find the sword or what to even look for.

He took a deep breath, gripped his wand tightly, and swept down the hill towards the castle. He crossed the distance and slipped up to the side to sneak around to the front. He peered around a corner, hoping to spot any guards. He frowned slightly when he found none. He silently slid along the wall to the huge double doors, arching an eyebrow at the inscription he spotted on top.

For the greater good.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald appeared to have far more in common than anyone could have ever known. He gritted his teeth and returned his focus to the doors. He found himself growing concerned at the lack of enchantments. It was a wizarding prison that housed the darkest wizard of all time. Surely it should be crawling with guards and enchantments to keep Grindelwald in and others out.

He pushed on one door and it creaked open slowly. He peeked around the door, finding himself in a tall, long, dark hallway. He slipped through the door, letting it close behind him. He stood in the dark for a minute or two, listening, before lighting his wand. He was in a stone hall devoid of windows or light. There was absolutely nothing except stone.

On high alert, he began slowly down the corridor, waiting for a threat. He could hear the muffled rain outside and his own breathing and his light steps on the stone floor, but nothing else. The silence was eerie, keeping him on edge.

He continued down the long corridor for several minutes before coming to a fork. He could take a new corridor to the left or continue straight. He gazed at what he could of each, trying to examine them for clues. Neither had anything to indicate what he would find. However, there was something telling him to go to the tower, so, after contemplating, he continued straight.

As he headed deeper into the castle, he began to pass prison cells, all empty. He glanced into each as he passed to identify possible threats, but he continued to encounter no obstacles. It was concerning.

He turned a corner and found himself at another fork with left or right as the options. Once again, neither gave any indication where it would lead, or so he thought. As he stared down the right, he thought he could feel the remnants of magic. He followed the magic, taking the twisting hallway to a set of winding stairs that led down. At the bottom was a door and he could feel the magic that once covered it.

He pushed it open and found himself in a courtyard, the tall tower’s entrance in the center. All along the outside of the courtyard were stone statues carved to look like suits of armour with various weapons. Circling the tower were stone gargoyles and a huge snake had been carved around the door, its head with its open mouth hovering menacingly near the doorknob. He could feel heavy magic in the courtyard and knew something would happen once he entered.

Readying himself for a battle, he stepping into the courtyard and felt the magic awaken. Creaking, grinding stone echoed throughout the courtyard and he spotted the movement around the outside. The stone statues had come to life and were moving towards the threat.

He spun and dodged just in time to avoid the sword swung at him. He cast a Blasting Curse, exploding the statue before it could continue to approach, only to be grazed by another on the shoulder. Half a dozen statues had made their way to him, attempting to surround him. He dodged smoothly as the swords and clubs were swung at him. He caused a couple to destroy each other, blasted another, only to be thrown across the courtyard when one grabbed the back of his robes.

He landed hard, groaning at the impact to his back. He blinked quickly and his eyes widened when he saw the shape flying directly at him. He rolled just in time as the gargoyle’s stone talons sunk into the ground. The gargoyle growled and he raised an arm in defense, crying out as his arm was torn into. He blasted the gargoyle, wincing at the chunks of stone that hit his face.

He threw up a shield as three statues swung their weapons at him. His shield shook at the impact of the stone weapons and he scrambled to his feet. He dashed away as he dropped the shield, spinning and slashing his wand through the air, causing all three statues to crumble.

He gathered his magic and pushed it outwards in a blast of magic that rushed throughout the courtyard, causing the remaining statues and gargoyles to explode. His breathing heavy from the physical and magical exertion, he pushed his soaking wet hair out of his eyes and slowly approached the door. He glanced apprehensively at the stone snake as he reached for the door handle. Before he could react, the second his fingers touched the handle, the snake came to life, hissing as its tail slammed into his chest, throwing him backwards.

Once again dazed, he fought to clear his head as he heard stone sliding over stone. His vision cleared in time to see the snake’s tail flying towards him again. He waved his wand sharply, destroying the tail and making stone rain down on him, making him throw his arms over his face for protection. He winced at the debris hitting his lacerated arm.

He heard the snake hiss again and rolled to avoid the bite coming his way. The fangs missed him, but still caught and tore through his cloak. He clambered to his feet and raced back to the door, knowing the half-destroyed snake was close behind. At the door, he spun around and immediately sent out a Blasting Curse, the snake exploding inches in front of him.

His heart was pounding and he took a moment to calm his breathing before carefully entering the tower. He was on the landing of a large spiral staircase leading up and down. Like the rest of the castle, there were no windows and sporadic, dull torches causing the entire tower to be encased in near total darkness. He was unsure which way to go. He knew Grindelwald would be at the very top of the tower and wondered if Dumbledore would have hid the sword with or near the dark wizard. He was still greatly confused by the absence of guards which was encouraging him to go up to the top. There was something telling him to go to where Grindelwald was supposed to be.

He headed up, passing more empty cells as he went. Thunder rumbled outside. It took several minutes to reach the top and he stared nervously at the closed, solid iron door. It had a tiny slot to see into the cell and he could feel the strong Locking Charm on the door. He stepped up and gazed through the viewing slot, his eyes darting around when he could see of the cell.

His stomach twisted and his eyes widened as he spotted a partially skeletonized hand off to the side. He took a step back and waved his wand, dismantling the complex Locking Charms. He pulled the door open, cringing at its loud screeching and groaning. Gripping his wand tightly, he stepped into the cell, his eyes instantly falling on the body. He frowned at the slit throat, indicating Grindelwald had been murdered. Rats were crawling all over the body, explaining the missing chunks of flesh. He wasn’t sure how long Grindelwald had been dead, but it seemed to be some time based on the shriveling grey skin.

He sighed and left the cell. So, Dumbledore had killed Grindelwald. Why?

He ignored the question for now. It wasn’t what was important. Realizing something had wanted him to find Grindelwald, he assumed he now had to go to the very bottom of the tower to find Hufflepuff’s sword. He made the descent quicker than the rest of his exploration, understanding that there would be no guards.

At the bottom, he found himself in a round chamber, a dead end. He frowned, confused. Was his assumption that the sword would be in the tower incorrect? Was Potter incorrect about Nurmengard all together? He didn’t think so. Nurmengard made sense as a hiding place for Dumbledore.

He increased his wand light and held his wand higher to illuminate more of the cavern. It was completely empty, but, as he looked, he noticed etchings on nearly every stone making up the walls. He approached the wall and examined the etchings. It was all the words ‘for the greater good’ and a strange symbol made of a triangle, circle, and line arranged together. He moved slowly around the chamber, examining each engraved stone for any abnormalities.

He was starting to think there was nothing to find when he spotted a different engraving. He leaned closer to make out the new etching and was shocked to realize it was a tiny, raised ‘H’ in the very center of the stone. It was extremely difficult to see given how small it was, however, he knew this was it. The sword was here.

He wasn’t really thinking when he raised a hand and pressed his palm to the stone. A power built in him and travelled through his arm into the stone, making it grow warm under his hand. It began to glow with a bright yellow light, streaming through his fingers. He pulled his hand back and watched the yellow light grow, engulfing a large section of the wall. Through the light, he saw the stones shimmer and disappear, the light extinguishing itself and leaving behind an entrance to a black tunnel.