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Chapter Text

An excerpt from Wizarding Tales; an analysis. by William B. Croan.

Chapter 5: The Tale as Old as Time

As we complete the history of the “Tale of Three Brothers”, It now makes sense chronologically to begin my personal favorite wizarding wives tale.

It’s unclear as to the exact date and location this tale originated from, but it’s thought to be Germanic in origin. Wherever it came from, it’s proven to be a childhood favorite for many wizards.

Several different translations, versions, and interpretations exist, in this analysis, I’ll focus on the main, most agreed upon version of the tale.

Most wizards, save for muggle borns, will be familiar with this story. In case a refresher is necessary, or in case my dear reader is unfamiliar with story, a common, shortened translation will be included.

As indicated in all of my previous chapters, any information denoted within (parentheses) will be my own comments, separate from the tale itself.

                The tale as Old as Time

It is believed that an ancient spirit dwells within the very folds of our reality.

This being exists not in our timeline, nor in any other timeline. This spirit exists outside the realm of time, within its own realm.

It is believed to know all.

It knows what is, what once was, and what will be.

Thousands of years ago, the first and most violent wizarding war began. It is believed that nearly half of the wizarding population was killed either directly in the war, or as a direct affect of the war.

Fought between forces of light and dark magic, no end was in sight for the Beelingrow family.

The Beelingrows lived a quiet life in the English hills. Living off of their harvest for their bare necessities, the war took a devastating toll. 

Little Ria grew sicker and sicker as the days passed, mother grew tired as she cared for her family, and father would soon never return, one of the thousands of wizarding casualties.

Noa Beelingrows watched with sorrow as his little baby sister grazed the line between life and death, and mourned the loss of his father.

Noa was in the fields, working to lighten the load for his mother, when he was approached by a bloodred fox.

“hello, Mr Fox. What brings you to our hills today?” The boy asked with curiosity.

“I am here to watch you work the fields.” Replied the fox.

And so, the fox watched.

Hours later, as the sun set, the boy bade farewell to the fox, and left to begin supper.

The next morning, as Noa was fetching water from the well, he was approached once more by the bloodred fox.

“Hello again Mr. Fox.” Said the boy.

“Hello again, Noa. I am here to watch you work the fields”

And so, the fox watched. 

The third day, the bloodred fox appeared once more, and again, he watched.

On the 4^th day, the bloodred fox had a different plan.

“Noa, I wish to make a deal with you.” Said the fox.

Noa was an intelligent boy, and knew better than to make deals with foxes.

“No thanks, Mr. Fox.” Said the boy.

“You must though Noa, I can save baby Ria.” Said the fox, sly.

Noa thought this over, and after a few moments, decided he must hear the fox out, for how could he deny the opportunity to save his sister?

“I can save little Ria, I can restore your mother to happiness, and I can return your father to you.” The fox began.

Noa was shocked, his father, back once more!

“I can do it all, Noa. And I require just one thing.” The fox said.

“what, what?” Noa said, eager.

“Your body.” Said the bloodred fox.

 Noa was quiet for a moment.

“You mean you’ll kill me?” The boy asked.

“No, No! You misunderstand me Noa. I would simply share your body.” Said the bloodred fox.

“I don’t think I understand” Replied the boy.

“You’d hardly notice me there Noa, just think of poor little Ria.” Said the fox.

Noa thought hard for a long time. When he finally came to his decision, the sun was setting and it was nearly time for Noa to go in to prepare dinner.

“Ok Mr. Fox, I’ll do it.” The boy said, standing from his perch on a tree stump. The fox, who had sat and watched Noa intently, nodded.

“I believed you would do the right thing Noa, for this, you can call me by my true name. At home, they call me Spharrow.” Said the fox. Noa nodded.

“Ok, Spharrow. What do I do now?”

“You go home, by the time you arrive, we’ll be one, and you’ll be greeted with a healthy sister, a shining mother, and your father, alive once more.” Said Spharrow.

Noa could hardly contain his joy. He ran all the way home, never noticing a change at all. When he arrives, he hears joyous cries from inside.

He enters his house to find his mother crying tears of joy as she held baby Ria, who seemed fully well once more.

And his father, who Noa hadn’t seen in months, standing in the kitchen, smiling at his family.

Noa ran to his father, but was stopped as he heard a terrible scream from his mother.

“Noa, what did you do?” screeched his mother. Noa was taken aback, and found himself staring into a mirror in the kitchen well.

It wasn’t his own eyes staring back, instead of pupils, there was pure black. Noa was terrified.

“You sold your soul.” Said Noa’s father, staring with hatred in his eyes. “You’re not my Noa.”

“Father, please!” Noa said, tears welling in his dark eyes.

“Begone, and I swear by my own grave that I wont hesitate to kill you if I ever see you again.”

And so, Noa left.

Noa spent years on his own. Once he grew enough to know better, he stopped the violent war, with the help of his bloodred fox.

Spharrow's soul could not exist without Noa's soul. 

It is believed that Spharrow is behind the peaceful endings to seemingly neverending wars, however, his methods are less than admirable, consuming the souls of those around him, Spharrow is only as strong as the body he inhabits.

Spharrow, while not inhabiting a boy’s body, exists outside of our realm. He sees all, and knows the past, present, and future. His notorious deal making has led to thousand of consumed souls, damned to an eternity of emptiness.

The end.

The uniqueness of this story stems from it’s surprising lack of theme. Every tale examined in this book can be interpreted as a lesson, except for this one. I suppose that’s why it was always my favorite one growing up, despite it’s less than happy ending.

Before I dive into the analysis, I’d like to introduce a name for Spharrow that may be more common. My son made the connection and I’ve felt quite silly since. A more well-known name for Spharrow may be “The Well of Knowledge”.

Let’s start at the beginning, the story starts with …

End of Excerpt

Chapter Text

Harry James Potter was not a normal boy.

At only 11 years old, he didn’t really know much. This however, he knew with certainty. He supposed that he hadn’t been a normal boy for his whole life now, but it was only recently did he understand why. It had come to him with a sense of clarity that he had never experienced before. This epiphany came to him whilst standing in the entrance room, slowly reading and re-reading the contents of a letter addressed to his cupboard.

He had barely registered his uncles voice, and had nearly laughed at the cartoon-like purplish face his uncle had sported once he realized what his nephew was holding.

Everything turned out ok for him, Harry thought to himself. The whole ordeal was a lot to take in, and he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Just a few days after Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley, Harry was curled up underneath his ragged little blanket. He wasn’t cold though, and he had with him a few pieces of bread and a whole slice of cheese. The little overhead light that sometimes flickered was holding steady, the Dursleys were all fast asleep, and, best of all, he had his favorite schoolbook open in front of him.

All in all, not a bad night. Harry thought to himself. He looked up from his book and glanced at the makeshift calendar that he made using old paper scraps and a pen he has hidden away in cupboard, he smiled again as he saw the circled “September 1st”, and stuck a piece of cheese in his mouth, chewing slowly and wondering if the 2 days remaining before his trip to Hogwarts could go any slower.

He turned his attention back to his book. After Hagrid had left him back at the Dursleys, Harry had gone through the first chapter of every book in his course load. The Dursley’s weren’t much of readers, so Harry didn’t get the chance to read a lot at first. This would have been fine, Harry thought, if he had been allowed to watch tv, or play some of the computer games that Dudley had.

But the hours spent in his cramped cupboard had taught him that escaping into fantastical worlds, whether it was following detectives solving dark and twisted murders, or following a couple in a dopey romance, was necessary for his sanity. To this, Harry was so grateful to Ms. Figg, his (slightly) dusty neighbor, who also happened to be the librarian at Harry’s primary school. She had provided him book after book, and he devoured them at rapid paces. As he read, he found that he forgot less and less, something in his head was taking every word written on the pages and filing them away for future use. Much to his surprise, he one day found he could recite his favorite book, (The Screwtape letters), nearly from memory.

While his school textbooks weren’t interesting in the way his other books were, they were fascinating in their own rights. He poured over the Transfiguration book, amazed at the labeled illustrations, and the detailed wand movements. He read his Herbology book and History of Magic books, they were less “Magic-y”, as Harry described it, and more like his primary school readings, but they were still interesting nonetheless.

He spent the most time though, with two of his books. Quintin Trembles “Dark forces; how to protect yourself” caught Harry’s attention immediately. He desperately wanted to try out some of the spells taught in the book, but knew better than to disobey an adult when they told him not to do something. His favorite book by far though, was his assigned potions book.

Harry had never had a close relationship with a teacher, but the closest he came to one, was his science teacher. His name was Mr. Gargons, and he had been a Chemistry Professor at a College in London before he moved to Harry’s school. Harry knew this because he had one day come into class with a question about the material they were learning, and Mr. Gargons somehow ended up telling the whole class about a trip he had taken his college students out on once.

Potions, Harry found, was similar to chemistry, at least to what Harry could understand. The book “Magical Drafts and Potions” was at a beginner level, but it seemed to imply that you could create a potion to do just about whatever you wanted. Harry found himself day dreaming about potions that could be used to stave off hunger for times when he got into trouble, and potions that would allow him to sleep through the entire summer, never having to deal with his Aunt and Uncle.

Unfortunately, Harry was still only a boy, and he still had to deal with the Dursleys.

Harry spent most of the night trying to understand the complex text in the Potions book. It used a lot of unfamiliar words, and Harry didn’t have any sort of dictionary that could define the words used. He fell asleep on top of the text, the light dimming to a flicker above him.

“Get up, up!” A stern voice woke Harry up from his slumber. Accompanying the voice was the sound of harsh rapping on his wooden door frame.

“I’m up.” He groaned, rubbing his red face, regretting using a book as a pillow as he stretched his aching neck. He emerged into the bright hallway to come face to face with his aunt. He cringed as she gripped his shoulder, pulling him along behind her as she made her way into the kitchen.

“Eggs, Scrambled.” She said, releasing him all while glaring. “Pancakes with butter, and toast for your uncle. If it’s burnt, you’re not eating.” She glowered. She turned on her heels and headed back towards the sitting room. It was still dark, his aunt liked having breakfast ready for her husband and son before they woke up. Harry sighed, pulling out the necessary pans, and starting to cut up vegetables for the omelet that Dudley would inevitably insist on once he saw Harry had made pancakes.

A little over an hour later, the kitchen was smelling quite good, if Harry said so himself. He still had to use a stool, as he was barely tall enough to see over the counter, let alone flip pancakes. The sun was starting to peak its head up, and light was starting to filter through the window shades. It looked like it was going to be a warm day, and Harry hoped that he would be allowed chores, and not shoved back into his cupboard as soon as he finished making breakfast.

He quietly started on his own breakfast. It had to be small and unassuming, otherwise Aunt Petunia would take it from him. He kept it simple, bread with a little bit of peanut butter on it. His Aunt pursed her lips as she saw him take the first bite, but only said,

“Finish by the time your cousin comes down.” Harry nodded, and began to eat quicker.

As the Dursleys ate, Harry did the dishes, wondering if aunt Petunia was going to keep her promise of driving him to the train station the day after next.

After Uncle Vernon had gone off to work, and Dudley had left to meet up with his friends, Aunt Petunia approached him with a scribbled list.

“This is to be completed by the end of the day.” She said firmly, shoving the paper into his hands and turning away again. Harry looked down at the tidy handwriting. His list was fairly moderate, and he quickly hurried to get changed. He was eager to get outside, even if it was for weeding.

The day passed uneventfully, and Harry was mopping the kitchen floors when he heard the familiar tires of his Uncles car pulling into the drive. Harry paused, an eerie feeling of fear sweeping over him. Shaking it off, he continued, squeezing the dirty water out and into his water bucket.

His uncle came in, quieter than usual. No muttering or door slamming as he usually does after a day at work. Harry felt another wave of fear, this one more intense than the first.

I haven’t done anything. Harry thought to himself firmly. His uncle rarely punished him without reason. Harry bent down to lift a mat up to wash underneath, when he felt a thick hand grab the back of his neck, pulling him upright. Harry gasped in surprise, he didn’t even realize his uncle had come up behind him.

“I will kill you.” The words ripped through Harrys body, fear taking over him.

His Uncle’s voice was low and menacing, not the usual bellowing he did. Harry felt his head pushed down, and his adrenaline went into overdrive when his head was forced into his water bucket. Soapy water filling his mouth, he clamped it shut. His ears were ringing and his eyes were closed. After a moment of keeping his mouth shut, he opened it again. He began to scream, fear coursing through him. He tried shaking his uncle off, but to no avail. His lungs were starting to burn, and he was about to let in a gasp of water when his uncle pulled him out. Harry gasped in heavy gulps of air, not even registering the pressure behind his head building up.

“I will kill you if you show yourself here again.” Once again, he was pushed back into the water. The ringing became louder, and even with his eyes clamped shut, Harry was seeing bright stars in his vision. Screaming and kicking, he fought his uncle’s grip.

'I don’t want to die'. His mind echoed these words over and over, His uncle pulled him back out again.

“If you tell your Aunt about this, If you come back before next summer, if you do anything “Magical” to my family,” he spat the word magical out as if it was venom. “I will kill you.”

He let go of Harry’s neck and straightened up. Harry remained where he was, gulping in air to his burning lungs. Harry felt tears coming down his face. He couldn’t register what was happening, in his head, he was still under the water. The ringing wouldn’t go away, and the pressure behind his ears was unbearable. He was breathing in air, but all he could think of, was

'I don’t want to die, please.'

---

Aunt Petunia didn’t go back on her word. After Harry had spent the whole morning packing, she drove him to the train station, dropping him off without a word.

Harry felt completely alone and confused. Ever since Uncle Vernon had punished him, he couldn’t get his ears to stop ringing. His head was muddled, and he desperately wanted to forget what had happened. His voice was shot due to all of the screaming he had done, and so he was hesitant to ask a worker at the station where platform 9 ¾ was.

After hauling Hedwigs cage, his trunk, and his school bag towards platform 9 and 10, he looked around. It was nearly 10:30, he figured there must be other wizards about, and he hoped to ask one how to get onto the platform.

It didn’t take long for him to be proven right, a large group of people, mostly redheads, were talking and laughing loudly. 4 boys seemed to be carrying school trunks, and 2 of them had owl cages.

“Packed with muggles, of course.” Said the plump woman leading the group as she shook her head. Harry picked up his bag once again and tried to follow without being seen. Harry had already dealt with people gawking when he went through the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, so he flattened his hair down nervously, trying to keep his scar from view.

“Okay Percy, you go first.” The woman said. The boy, presumably Percy, began to run right towards a very solid looking wall. But as he approached, he was swarmed with people walking by, and once they cleared, the boy had vanished.

“Ok Fred, George, go ahead.” Harry watched again, but knew he must be missing something. He hesitantly approached the woman.

“Excuse me?” He had to tap the woman’s shoulder to get her attention, as she hadn’t heard Harrys wispish voice.

“Oh, hello dear, first time?” She asked gently. Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. “It’s Ron's first time too.” She said kindly.
After she had explained how to get onto the platform, Harry grimaced. He attempted to smile faintly at the woman’s encouraging face, and did as she had explained.

Immediately, he knew it had worked. The scarlet train was puffing steam, and there were less people on the platform than on the previous ones. Harry felt a sense of relief.

The woman had rejoined her sons, and Harry thought it best not to interrupt, even if it was to thank the woman. He followed two girls onto the train, and began walking through the carriages, looking for an empty one. He eventually found one that was completely empty, and sat down next to the window.

As Harry looked out of the window to all of the families saying goodbye to their kids, he felt a sense of relief so calming that he contently sighed. He was leaving the Dursleys, he wouldn’t have to see them for a whole year. He didn’t know what he was going to, but he knew it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

A flash of memories attacked Harry as he thought about the Dursleys, water entering his lungs, Uncle Vernon’s cruel laughter, and the unbearable and unrelenting ringing flashed through his mind before the door slid open to his compartment. Startled from his thoughts, Harry looked up. In front of him was a pale blonde boy, eyeing the seat across from him.

“Can I join you? The rest of the compartments are full.” The boy stated lamely. Harry simply nodded, and the boy sat down across from Harry.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked, the silence becoming too awkward for him.

“Draco.” The boy replied smoothly, seeming to have recovered from his awkward entrance. “What’s yours?”

“Harry.” He replied. The boy glanced sharply at Harrys forehead, but to his credit, didn’t make any sort of weird reaction when his eyes landed on Harry’s scar.

“Harry Potter?” Draco asked after a moment of silence. It sounded less like a question and more of a statement.

Before Harry had a chance to respond though, the door slid open once again. This time though, it was one of the redheaded boys, the first year. The boy opened his mouth as if to say something, then noticed Draco. He awkwardly turned around and left, sliding the door closed again. After a few moments, Harry began to laugh.

“He could have sat with us if he wanted.” Draco said, his face turned into what could only be described as a pout.

“You scared him off.” Harry said with a chuckle. They fell into a companiable silence. It had none of the previous awkwardness. Harry was still trying to rid himself of the ringing, and Draco seemed to sense that Harry wasn’t much in the mood to talk. As the train sped off, Harry watched the scenery. The dark green tree’s blurring together, and great expansive pastures passing by at incredible speeds.

Harry had been lost in thought for awhile when a woman pulled open their door, asking if they wanted anything from the snack cart. Harry, who hadn’t eaten all day, jumped up. Draco did as well, and together they bought what seemed like half of the cart.

Piling their food onto the seats next to them, Harry began to look closer at the candies he had just bought.

“Pumpkin pasties?” Harry asked quietly, his voice still damaged.

“Oh, they’re awful. You’d better just let me have them.” Draco replied, his face pinched in false disgust. Harry laughed, and unwrapped a pasty. They fell into silence again as they ate, until Draco finally spoke.

“Knut for a thought, Potter.” He said, biting an arm off a chocolate frog. Harry looked up from the card labeled “Albus Dumbledore” in his hands.

“I’ve never seen Dumbledore before.” He replied. Draco hummed in response.

“My father despises him, but my father despises everyone.” Draco said, eyeing Harry’s pile of unopened chocolate frogs. Harry tossed one to him.

“Even you?” Harry asked, as Draco caught the frog. Harry was curious to see if everyone’s families worked in the same way the Dursleys did. Draco grinned back.

“Only sometimes. What house you think you’ll be sorted into?” Harry knew about houses, he had read about them in Hogwarts, a history.

“I dunno. You?”

“My whole family has been Slytherins. My father says he’ll be very pleased if I follow in his footsteps.”

“I wonder if I’ll be in Slytherin.” Harry said. Draco considered him for a moment.

“I don’t think so, I’d guess Ravenclaw.” He said finally. Harry shrugged, he wasn’t really nervous about the sorting, he knew the tradition, as it was explained in the book, he just wished he wouldn’t have to try on the sorting hat while everyone was watching.

The two boys talked for a little while longer. The sun was going down outside, and Harry had to assume they were nearly to the school. After Harry expressed his interest in quidditch, Draco went on for awhile about it, explaining the rules and the exceptions and the nuances of the sport. It was as he started explaining his belief in that the snitch should only be worth 50 points, that the door slid open once more. Revealing a bushy haired girl and a nervous looking boy.

“Have either of you seen a toad?” The girl asked, rather bossily. Harry and Draco stood up almost immediately, checking under their seats and bags.

“Have you lost your pet?” Harry asked the boy.

“No, Potter, they’re simply out frog-hunting on the train, it’s a quite exciting past-time.” Draco said, sniggering. Harry threw a glare at Draco, trying to look intimidating but failing miserably. At the mention of his name however, Harry noticed recognition in both the girl and the boy. The girl seemed to have the foresight to keep her face neutral, but the boy had let his jaw drop.

“You’re Harry Potter!” He exclaimed.

“And I’m Draco Malfoy!” Draco mocked, rolling his eyes.

“And I’m Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you.” The girl said, ignoring Draco. He took her extended hand and shook.

“You too.” Harry said politely.

“I’m, er, Neville Longbottom.” The nervous boy said. Sounding embarrassed after his outburst. Harry grinned at the boy, hoping to show that he didn’t hold it against him.

“Nice to meet you too, Neville.” The boy smiled gratefully. “Sorry, It seems your toad isn’t in here. Maybe you could ask the trolly lady? She’s been to every compartment by now.” Harry suggested.

“We’re nearly there though, you’d better hurry.” Draco added. Neville and Hermione thanked them and left quickly. And Draco turned back to Harry.

` “We’d best put on our school robes. I wasn’t kidding when I said we’re almost there.” It was now dark outside, the black night sky revealing hundreds of stars. Harry and Draco pulled on their robes, and began clearing up their stuff. By the time the train had begun to slow, they were both ready to leave.

“Lets grab a boat together, Potter.” Draco said. Harry raised his eyebrows in question. “you’ll see soon enough.” Draco said with a little laugh. As the students filed off the train, the both headed towards the loud and familiar voice.

“Firs’ year’s ov’r ‘ere!” Hagrid’s voice reached every students ears. Hagrid led the first years down a path, Harry had to watch his step carefully, as it was very dark. Hagrid led them towards a lake, pitch black and glossy. On the shore, were several small rowboats, which looked as if to carry 5 students each.

Hagrid ordered them to find a boat, and once they were all seated, Hagrid sent the boats off together. Harry and Draco ended up in a boat with Hermione, Neville, and a quieter girl who had never offered up her name. Harry had a hard time enjoying the ride, being so close to a lake was causing his heart to race. Fortunately, the ride didn’t last too long, and soon they rounded a bend and the magnificent castle came into view. All of the students were oohing and ahhing, and Hagrid told them about the lake and a bit about the school’s history.

Once they hit the opposite shore, they all filed up behind Hagrid and followed him to a giant entry door. It was near silent when Hagrid knocked on the door, two loud thumps that echoed in Harrys ears. The door opened slowly and loudly, creaking to reveal a severe looking woman.

Several minutes later, the first years were standing in the dining hall. The enchanted ceiling capturing most of Harry’s attention. He nearly missed the sorting song, as he was so lost in his head. Draco nudged him, and Harry refocused, getting the last bit of the song, as the hat talked about each of the houses.

As the names began to be called, Harry let his eyes stray to the high table, and the many (presumably) teachers sitting and applauding politely as the first years were being sorted.

He spotted Hagrid and Dumbledore, but those were the only two Harry recognized. As his eyes strayed over each teacher, they stopped over a younger looking man with his head wrapped in a turban, sitting next to a pale, imposing man. He was dressed in all black, and his hair looked greasy, reaching all the way down to his shoulders. His face was fixed into a dark gloomy glare. Harry jumped as the mans eyes turned sharply to meet his. Quickly looking away, Harry bit his lip, trying not to let his racing heart get the better of him.

“Malfoy, Draco.” Harry gave Draco a smile as the boy stepped from the group of first years and approached the hat. He sat the hat down on his head, and it took several moments before it declared him a Slytherin. Harry clapped along with the rest of the crowd, and was glad to see that Draco looked happy with his placement. A few names later,

“Potter, Harry” Harry had expected everyone to start whispering when they heard his name, it didn’t help his anxiety however as he approached the hat. He sat on the stool, and allowed the hat to fall completely over his eyes.

'Hm. Tricky one, you are.'

'I’m sorry'. The hat seemed to find his apology funny.

'No need, Mr. Potter. Hm. Where to put you?'

The hat stayed silent for several minutes. Harry was getting anxious; he was worried the hat might never call a house. Eventually though, the hat shouted,

“Gryffindor!”

Harry sighed in relief at having been sorted, and placed that hat gingerly back on its stool. He walked towards the Gryffindor table with shaky legs, and sat between Neville and a sandy haired boy who Harry could not remember his name. Harry glanced at the Slytherin table and met Draco’s eye. Draco gave a quick thumbs up and winked. Harry grinned back, glad to see that Draco didn’t hold Harry’s sorting against him.

The red headed boy, (Harry now knew that his name was Ron), was the last one sorted into Gryffindor, and sat across from Harry, grinning.

“Congratulations to our new students, now, let the feast begin!” Dumbledore declared, the students all cheered. Harry gasped as the plates in front of him were filled with food, and began to serve his plate up, eager to eat as much as he could without anyone taking it away from him.

“Find your toad, Neville?” Harry asked amicably after serving himself up potatoes and chicken. Neville grinned back, plucking a large toad from his robe.

“Ew!” two girls squealed, at the same time Ron said “wicked!”. The feast ended far too soon for Harry’s liking. He had a good time eating and talking with his new housemates, and got to meet the Weasley twins and Nearly Headless Nick. After Dumbledore’s parting words, the first years followed Percy Weasley as he led them to their dorms.

“First years, this passage. Boys, you’re up the left staircase, girls, the right. Curfew is in 20 minutes.” Percy declared, a little pompously in Harry’s opinion. This was soon out of Harry’s mind as he entered his new room. 5 four poster beds were set up with scarlet and gold bedspreads, the ceiling was high and there was a large window placed at the end of the room. Their trunks had all already been brought up, much to Harry’s surprise and pleasure. The 5 boys were all talking excitedly about the feast and their coming school year, but it was evident the food had turned the boys sleepy.

Harry was asleep mere seconds after his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

   Harry awoke earlier than his bunkmates. The sun was just starting to show itself on the horizon, and Harry figured it was close enough to breakfast that he could get himself up now. Yawning, he sat up, digging his hands and fingers into the bedspread. Harry sat for a few moments, letting this feeling sink in.

  How did I survive without a bed for all that time?  Harry thought to himself bemusedly. He shivered slightly as his bare feet touched down on the cold floor. As he dug through his trunk, he could hear someone behind him waking up. Harry quickened his search, wanting to have the bathroom to himself as he got ready.

  After Harry had changed into his school robes, he stood up straight and looked into the mirror.

  The face looking back at him was gaunt, and the morning light shining through the window made him look unnaturally pale. His dark hair wouldn’t lay flat, and he remembered with a start that his glasses were still broken, tape holding the frames together.

  Sighing, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and hoped no one would notice his glasses.

  By the time Harry was ready, his dormmates were up. Neville seemed to be the only morning person among them, he was up and jittering around, mumbling to himself as he prepared his school bag. Harry chuckled at the look on Ron’s face as he glared at the nervous boy.

  It only took a few minutes for Ron and Neville to be ready. Dean and Seamus were still in bed, grumbling about the noise.

  “Breakfast starts in 2 minutes!” Ron exclaimed as he tried for the 3^rd time to get Dean out of bed.

  “It doesn’t end until half past 8” Came the grumbled response.

  Ron turned to Harry and Neville, who were waiting by the door. He shrugged, and followed them out. Once they stepped out of the portrait hole, they came to an abrupt stop.

 “Do you remember the way to the great hall?” Harry asked Ron.

 “I think we came from that direction.” 

  Two dead ends and a poltergeist later, the boys entered the great hall. As they sat down and began to eat, Ron and Neville excitedly chatting, Harry tried his best to focus on his food. With all the noise and movement, though, Harry found it hard to enjoy his breakfast potatoes.  

  Feeling distracted and slightly off balance, he hoped his head would return to normal by their first classes. Percy Weasley came up behind Harry, startling him into dropping his fork.

  “The potions lab is unusable as of right now.” He began.

   Harry let out a hiss when he hit his head on the way back from picking his fork up.

  “So Potion’s classes are suspended until further notice. These are your temporary schedules. It shouldn’t be more than a week or so.” Percy finished. He gave each of them a slip of paper, written on it were their schedule for this week. Harry rubbed his head as he read it over.

  Despite the fogginess, Harry began to feel excited for the day. He had never imagined he would be excited for school, but Hogwarts was proving to be interesting, and he hoped that the “newness” of it all would keep him focused throughout the day.

  Harry was disappointed that he would have to wait before starting potions, It had been the class he was most looking forward too. Glancing up again at the high table, he noticed immediately that Dumbledore’s chair was empty.

 “Percy?” Harry asked. The boy in question turned around.

  “Yes, Harry?”

  “Which professor teaches potions?”

  “That would be Professor- “ Before he could finish, two boys swung their arms around Percy’s shoulder.

   Harry recognized them from the feast the night before. Fred and George, the only two who could get away with treating the Gryffindor prefect the way they did.

   “Little ol Harry” Started George, tutting and shaking his head.

   “Haven’t you heard the phrase, ‘curiosity killed the cat’?” Fred said, grinning mischievously.

   “Asking about Hogwarts most hated professor on his first day of term. He’s a ballsy one that’s for sure.” George finished. Percy shook them off.

   “Oh cut it out.” He bit, pushing past them and marching off.

  It was quiet for a moment, the two twins were looking at Harry expectantly. Harry had no idea what he was supposed to say, so he jammed a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

  “Satisfaction brought it back.” Said a girls voice.

  Harry swung around to see Hermione Granger inching closer on the bench to them. “You said curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.” She said again, eagerly.

  Harry got this weird feeling that this would not be the last time Hermione knew the answer when the rest of them did not. Before Harry could dwell on this thought, and where it came from, he was distracted by the twins.

  “And the prize goes to the fair lady.” George said, as Fred mimicked a bell ringing.

  “The Potions Master, or as we like to call him, the dungeon master, is a big greasy git.” Interrupted a third boy who Harry didn’t recognize. He was slightly shorter than the twins, and had dreadlocks that hung down to his shoulder blades. He had a distinct swagger to him that Harry found amusing.

  “If he could, he’d have a sign on his door saying ‘Gryffindors are not to make any noise-“

  “Not to speak-“

  “Or ask any questions-“

  “And most importantly, not to breathe.” Fred finished.

  The three older boys had lowered their voices dramatically, and the four first years had leaned in close to hear. They jumped as George slammed his hands on the table, grinning.

  “Not to worry though, he ought to go easy on the ickle first years- ”

  “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

   With that, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who’s name had come to Harry during their “performance”, turned away and left, laughing amongst themselves. Ron was the one who moved first, dumping more ketchup onto his plate.

   “He can’t be that bad, can he?” Neville asked, sounding nervous.

   “He’s a professor, of course he won’t be that bad. It’s quite rude for those three boys to be calling him a git.” The bushy haired girl said, sniffing.

   “He lives in the dungeons, Fred and George complain about him all the time. I think they were serious when they said he’s a git.” Ron said, his mouth still full of food.

  Harry grinned and Neville laughed, but Hermione didn’t seem to find it amusing. She pursed her lips and turned away, pushing her food back towards the other side of the table where two other girls were sitting.

  “At least we won’t have to deal with him for a while, could be a sign, eh?” Ron said after a few minutes of silence, in which the three finished their breakfasts.

  “Yeah, a sign that my letter was meant for a different “Harry Potter”” Harry grumbled, his voice still annoyingly hoarse.

..

  The boys began to make their way to their first class of term, Transfiguration.

  Harry was disappointed that he wouldn’t be taking potions for a while, but he was still excited about his other classes. Transfiguration had looked to be the hardest class going by the textbooks. The words make almost no sense to Harry, and the diagrams and charts helped only marginally in his understanding.

  Harry felt very underprepared, but started to feel more confident as he listened to Ron and Neville talking, it didn’t seem that either of them had spent much time with their textbooks, either.

  “I tried! But I couldn’t even understand the name of the first chapter.” Ron complained, after Neville asked if he had read any of the book.

  “Me neither, I hope we don’t start with a quiz or something.” Neville said, biting his nails.

  Ron and Neville continued to talk, they seemed pretty content with letting Harry just listen, humming along at the appropriate times. Neville had stopped asking him questions after Harry didn’t respond, having not heard the Nevilles voice over the waves in Harry’s ears.

  They had found their way to the classroom fairly easily, as it was closer to the dining hall than their dorms. They weren’t the only ones, a few other first years had been milling around the door, clearly not wanting to be late to their very first class of the year.

  A few minutes before the class was scheduled to start, the door to the classroom swung open by itself. The chatter that had filled the corridor stopped abruptly as the students peered inside.

  The classroom was dimly lit, a small window in the back and candles being the only light sources. The front portion of the room was lined with 3 rows of desks, all facing towards the front, where a table sat in front of a black board. Further back, were what looked similar to the lab tables in Harry’s previous science classes. After a moment of gazing around the room, Harry felt his eyes fall onto the thing that every other student was staring at. Sitting on the desk in the front of the room, sat a grey tabby cat.

  Harry snorted as he recognized the cat immediately. Without knowing how, he knew this cat was the stern, grey haired woman that had sat on the right side of Dumbledore at the feast the previous night before.

  This must be professor McGonagall, I wonder if we’ll learn to turn into animals.

   With this thought, Harry stepped around the other students who were all whispering, clearly confused.

  He entered the classroom and walked towards the isle between the rows of desks, hearing Neville and Ron stumbling into the room after him.

  He turned to look at the cat as he made his way towards an empty row that was perfectly not in the front and not in the back of the room.

  The cat was staring at him. Harry knew the cat technically had no eyebrows, but he felt his professor would have had one eyebrow raised if she wasn’t in cat form. He nodded respectfully to her, and turned to Ron.

  “Lets sit in these ones.”

  With that, the class seemed to come out of its reverie. The rest of them filed into the room and started filling up the empty seats.

  With a minute before class began, the students fell silent, the door to the classroom had swung shut, once more seemingly all by itself. Harry watched as the cat’s body began to grow, and gaped in awe as a full-grown woman seemed to grow from thin air.

  Harry knew the cat had been his professor, but he wasn’t expecting such a graceful transformation. The rest of the class had similar reactions, and the woman before them waited until their reactions had quieted before speaking.

  “Welcome to Transfiguration.” She began, the class hanging on to every word. “I wish to make this immediately clear. I will tolerate no foolishness in this classroom.”

  At this point, Harry lost all interest. Despite his goal to remain focused, his woozy head was making it difficult to concentrate, especially on the boring introductions.

  It wasn’t until a half hour into the class that Harry tuned back in. The shuffling movement of the rest of the students digging for parchment and quills spurred Harry to do the same.

  They began to take notes. Harry noted with interest that McGonagall seemed to be teaching in a similar fashion to the textbook, as he copied down several definitions to words that were appearing everywhere in his text.

  Harry let his eyes wander to the rest of the class, Hermione was sitting next to a blonde-haired girl, Lavender. The girl  seemed to be getting annoyed with Hermione, as every 3 minutes Hermione’s hand would shoot up, indicating she had another complex question that no one else seemed to understand. After the 4^th time, Lavender began to glare.

   “Potter!” A sharp voice said. Harry looked up, or rather down, as his eyes had been trained on the ceiling, wandering over the dust mites in the corners of the room.

  “What is so interesting about the ceilings that you can’t look at the board while I’m teaching!” She said, her voice sharp and demanding.

  “Er…”

  “What is more important, the incantation or the wand movement?” She snapped, seemingly annoyed at his quiet and vague responses.

  Harry hadn’t been listening, but he was sure she hadn’t talked about which of the two were more important, and Harry hadn’t the faintest clue. He was about to say so, when he suddenly changed his mind.

  “Neither.” He said, his voice quiet.

  “Speak up!”

  Harry cleared his voice.

 “Neither, they’re both equally important, one can’t succeed with the other. Both must be perfect for a spell to be complete.” He said, his voice still slightly muted. McGonagall frowned, and Hermione put her hand down, slightly dejected.  

 “Correct. Keep your eyes on the board please, Potter.”

  Harry did as he was told, but he didn’t miss the look of confusion that Ron threw at him. Shrugging slightly, Harry figured he must have a concussion of some sort, he wasn’t sure how he knew the answer, and was even less sure of how he forgot he knew it.

 After the lecture, McGonagall sent the first years to the back work stations, where she handed out each of them a small match, with instructions of turning it into a needle. Harry was in a group with Ron and Neville, and they set to work against their matches immediately.

  “No, you’re saying the incantation wrong!” Neville said, shrilly, as Ron's match stayed stubbornly wooden.

  “Well at least I’m not waving my wand around like a mad swordsman.” Ron grumped, as Neville remained unsuccessful too.

  “C’mon, Harry, you should be practicing. What’s so interesting about the window?” Ron said, eyeing it suspiciously.

  Harry turned to his match. He somehow knew he didn’t need to practice, and he said as much. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall had chosen that moment to approach Harry from behind, and heard him.

  “Very well than, Potter, if you need not practice, you wont mind showing off how its done for the class.” Harry felt an ugly feeling in his chest, and was unsure how to label it, but he had the strangest feeling that it wasn’t his. Pushing this thought away for later contemplation, he sighed.

  “Yes professor.”

  He had never done this spell before, and wasn’t sure why he had been so confident.

  As the rest of the students gathered around, Harry noticed Hermione’s needle and smug smile.

  Frowning, he turned to the match, and muttered the incantation. Before his eyes, the match turned into a shiny, pointy needle. Before anyone could say anything, he muttered again, turning the needle back into its original, woody form.  

  Harry was grateful when Ron broke the stunned silence by clapping, and grinned to himself. Apparently, he was right, he didn’t need to practice.

“10 points to Gryffindor.” McGonagall said, and shooed everyone off back to their desks. More quietly, to him, she spoke again. “Impressive, Mr. Potter. Stay after class please.” She then walked away to watch more students and correct their wand work.

“Wow, Harry, how’d you do that so easily?” Neville asked. Harry looked at Neville, unsure of what to say, until suddenly he wasn’t unsure anymore.

 “You’re holding your wand wrong, Neville. Loosen your grip and let your thumb rest on your pointer. When you’re making the loop, imagine you’re shaving a seed for germination, make it tight, and then loopy.” The words spilled out of Harrys mouth without him being quite sure of what he was saying. Harry had never shaved a seed for germination, but the words seemed to strike understanding in Neville's eyes. He turned back to his seed with more determination.

By the end of the class, Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione were the only students able to turn their matches completely into needles. Ron only barely managed at the end, and only after Harry spent a considerable amount of time teaching him the proper way of saying the incantation.

As they were packing their bags, Ron and Neville were talking happily, flushed with their victories. Harry let their happiness spill into him, and he felt lighter than he had in days.

“c’mon Harry, without potions, we have an open block. We can get started on the essay!” Neville said. Ron grimaced at the suggestion, clearly not wanting to have to write an essay he believed he should not have to write after successfully turning his match into a needle.

“You go on without me, I’ll meet you in a bit.” Harry said, Neville and Ron nodded, having heard McGonagall tell him to stay behind.

“We’ll see you in the common room, then!” Ron said, as he and Neville filed out of the room with the rest of the classmates.

Harry busied himself with his bag, pretending to be occupied by packing his stuff very slowly. As the last student drifted out, Harry finally looked up. Professor McGonagall was staring at him from the front of the room. He lifted his bag onto his shoulder and approached her, unsure of what she was going to say.

“You’ve made quite the first impression, Mr. Potter.” McGonagall said. Harry didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet. “I’m expecting a lot from you this year, you’re clearly a gifted boy.” She said, after a few moments.

  “Thank you?” He said, coming out more of a question than anything else.

“You helped the two other boys, Weasley and Longbottom. How did you get them to understand?” She asked, her eyes curious.

Her voice was less sharp, and she sounded truly interested.

Harry looked up at her. In an instant, Harry recognized the flicker in McGonagall’s eyes. He knew she was reminded of his mother. He had heard from Hagrid, and several strangers in the Leaky Cauldron, that he had his mother’s eyes.

Maybe she taught my mother too. Harry thought.

“I have her eyes, don’t I?” He said, quietly. McGonagall flinched almost imperceptibly, but he knew he was right in guessing what she had been thinking.

“Indeed, Harry.” A moment of silence fell between them, Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“He likes plants, he understands them.” Harry finally said, referring to her earlier question. He knew she’d understand what he was talking about. Several more beats of silence followed.

“Off you go, Mr. Potter. I’m expecting great things from you in this classroom.”

                ---

Harry found Neville and Ron in the armchairs by the fire. Only the first years had an open block, which meant they had the common room mostly to themselves. They looked up as Harry entered through the portrait hole.

“How’d it go, mate?” Ron asked, looking pleased to have a distraction from his essay.

“Fine, just asking how I knew all that stuff.” He said, shrugging. Harry felt strange, the lying came easily to him. The lightheadedness was starting to envelope him again, and he excused himself to go lie down, hoping some rest would help.

As he laid in bed, he started thinking about strangeness of the morning. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, and how he knew all of the things he seemed to know. He fell asleep cursing Vernon Dursley, and trying to stomach a strange feeling that things were only going to get weirder.

Chapter Text

A week into the start of term, Harry felt a routine starting to form. As hesitant as he was to acknowledge it, the ringing in his ears had started to subside, and things had started to go smoother.

Harry was unexpectedly the best in every one of his classes. He didn’t know how, but no matter what question a teacher threw at him, he somehow knew the answer.

He had been the only one able to identify the plants Professor Sprout had showed them, and had easily preformed every charm Flitwick had them practice. Ron and Neville, despite being confused initially, had been glad to have Harry, as their success was mostly due to Harry’s ability to translate what the teachers were saying.

Hermione Granger seemed to be getting over the initial shock, and had started asking Harry the occasional question.

Harry was buttering his toast when Percy Weasley approached the first years.

“The potions lab is up and running.” He said, handing out slips to each of them. “These are your permanent schedules.”

Ron groaned as he read over their new schedule. Now instead of the free block they had been enjoying their first week, they had double potions with the Slytherins.

“Just after things were starting to go well.” Ron complained.

“You don’t seem that upset, your appetite’s still intact.” Harry piped. Harry’s voice had become stronger over the past few days. Unfortunately, he still found himself talking too quietly to be heard.

“Git” Ron muttered playfully.

Harry was excited. He was feeling better, the ringing had quieted to a dull pitch, echoing much quieter in his ears.

Mostly though, he was excited for Potions. Every night, Harry had snuck glances at the dark haired man. Harry couldn’t identify what, but something was drawing Harry to him.

Harry wanted to hear the man speak, but he wasn’t sure why.

After the first time at the welcome feast, the man had never caught Harry looking, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the professor knew he was being watched. If Harry had learned one thing from this week, it’s that his “sneaking suspicions” always turned out to be true.

After Transfiguration, Harry hurried to pack his bag. His classmates were abuzz around him, and there was a sense of nervous energy in the air.

Harry knew why, the older Gryffindors had seemed to make it their mission to prepare the first years for “The Dungeon Master”, as they called him. They told tales of horrid detentions scrubbing cauldrons, and of nasty name calling and failing marks.

Everyone but Hermione seemed to take these warnings as gospel.

Ever since the first years got their first marks back in their classes, Hermione Granger seemed to be in a frenzy. She was always working, always talking about something they learned. If she wasn’t scribbling away at an assignment, she was reading a textbook.

Harry was impressed with her motivation, even he found it hard to study as much as she did.

Besides the Professor, (Snape. for some reason, this name didn’t come to him like most did, he had to ask Percy Weasley) the first years were antsy about having their first class with the Slytherins. Harry had begun to feel the tension between the two houses, and was glad that the interactions he had with Malfoy had been amicable.

Neville, Ron, and Harry made their way down to the dungeons. Hermione Granger was chatting away with Neville. Ever since Harry had stopped her from getting a finger bitten off in Herbology, she had spent an increasing amount of time with them. Harry didn’t mind, as long as no one expected him to talk.

The dungeons were much cooler than the rest of the castle, and Harry shivered despite himself.

He was looking forward to beginning potions, even if his excitement had been dampened slightly by the warnings about the Professor.

Harry was hoping beyond hope that everyone had been wrong, and that Professor Snape wanted nothing more than for his students to succeed in his class.

Similar to their first day of Transfiguration, there were several students already waiting outside of the Potions classroom. This time though, most of them were wearing Green and Silver robes.

Harry could feel his classmates energy turning slightly hostile, as if they were expecting the Slytherins to attack them. Shaking his head, Harry approached Draco Malfoy, with Ron, Neville, and Hermione in tow.

“Hullo” Harry greeted, his voice soft. Malfoy turned around, and smirked when he saw the group.

“Potter and crew.” He said, nodding to the other three.

“First potions class, how’re we feeling?” A boy asked, standing next to Draco. His hair was a deep brown, and his eyes matched. Harry knew the boy's name was Theo Knott, though Harry was certain he had never met him before. 

“I’m Theo Nott, nice to meet you.” The boy added, extending a hand to Harry. Harry took it, and felt Nott’s eyes flicker to his forehead.

 The rest of the tension in the room seemed to deflate, and the other students started talking again. Harry was glad for it, he despised petty rivalries.

“Don’t know what to expect.” Ron said in response to Nott.

Harry froze, a feeling of dark apprehension flowing into his blood. Harry hissed at Ron, but the red-head didn’t hear.

“But we’ve heard a right lot about Professor ‘the git’ Snape.” Ron finished. Harry felt shivers, and he didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing behind them.

“Is that so, Mr. Weasley.” Came a low, quiet voice. Ron visibly flinched. He swung around, coming face to face, or more like face to stomach, with Professor Snape. Ron began stuttering, clearly not knowing what to say. Before he could figure something out, Snape spoke again.

“Enough, close your mouth Weasley. 10 points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a professor.” He said, his voice dripping with malice.

Ron turned bright red, before Snape swung around himself, striding into the Potions classroom.

Unlike the Transfiguration classroom, the work stations were built into the desks. The dungeon was colder and much more humid than every other classroom Harry had been in. There were no windows, and the room was filled with bright, but cold light.

Harry didn’t say anything as he followed everyone else into the classroom. The students were dead silent, and everyone was clearly doing their best to breathe quietly.

Harry let Ron lead him and Neville to the back. Hermione was quick to claim a seat in the front.

After all of the students had settled into their seats, they turned expectantly to the man in the front of the room.

Harry was much closer to the man now than he is in the dining hall, which allowed Harry to really scrutinize the mans face. It was hard to get a true impression, Snape seemed to be glowering.

The man began to speak, his voice was low, and he barely talked at more than a whisper. Similar to McGonagall, he seemed to command the attention of a room with ease.

Harry was paying more attention now that he had been at the start of Transfiguration, and so he began to feel a weird feeling in his stomach mere moments before Snape turned sharply from the board and stared directly at him.

“Potter!” The man snapped. Harry sat up straighter, unsure as to what he did wrong.

“Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry had no clue. But when he opened his mouth, the words came tumbling out, as they usually did.

“A sleeping draught.” Harry said, his voice its usual quietness. The man stared back, not saying anything. Harry cleared his throat, and said louder.

“A sleeping draught, one so strong that they call it the draught of living death.”

“I heard you the first time, Mr. Potter.” The man said sharply. Harry snapped his mouth shut, stung.

A familiar feeling was starting to rise within him. Harry was starting to recognize this foreignness that seemed to invade his senses occasionally. This time, however, it wasn’t anger. This time, Harry had to fight the strangest urge to laugh.

“Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?” The man asked again, his face betraying none of the usual emotions Harry could pick out on someone’s face.

“A goat sir, inside the stomach of a goat.” Harry said. This time, Harry noticed Hermione’s arm swinging down, she looked disapointed.

For some reason beyond Harry, he was starting to feel woozy.

“And what, Potter, is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

 Harry felt his ears ringing and his heart pulsing. Alongside this foreign amusement, Harry felt terrified. The combination was enough to make Harry dizzy, and he barely registered what Snape asked.

“There the same, sir.” Harry managed. Snape turned back to the board.

“You should all be writing this down.”

At these words, the students began rummaging around in their bags for parchment and quills, clearly not wanting to be at the end of Snape’s dark gaze. Even the Slytherins seemed weary of him.

Harry began to diligently take notes. Harry had an easier time paying attention to what Professor Snape was saying than any of his other teachers.

Not only did the things Harry had read in his textbook begin to make more sense as Snape taught them new definitions and Potions terminology, but he found that Potions made sense.

Harry was wrong. Potions wasn’t like Chemistry. Chemistry was about observing and understanding chemical interactions.

Potions was different. Potions was creating, and building. Anyone can throw together a bunch of ingredients into a cauldron and stir, but it took something more to understand the why.

Snape had finished his lecture, and had set the first years to making a simple potion to cure boils.

Harry was being diligent and careful. He cut up his roots into perfect even sections, and skinned the peels off of the Dilver Plant leaves.

Harry was working with Ron, who seemed desperate to leave the dungeon as soon as he possibly could. He was content with letting Harry tell him what to do, and Harry found that their potion, alongside Hermione and Lavender’s, and Malfoy’s and Nott’s potions were the only ones doing what they were supposed to be doing.

Snape had been gliding around, his robes swishing dangerously as he peered over everyone’s shoulders. He made no remarks to Harry and Ron, but left scathing insults on nearly everyone else’s.

Harry felt something was going wrong before it happened.

Harry felt the almost familiar tug in his stomach, and he turned around, his eyes scanning the room, hoping to find whatever was wrong before it happened.

He turned in time to see Neville with a pinch of salt in his hands, right above the cauldron. He was about to start sprinkling it in.

Harry knew, even without his gut telling him, that Neville was about to make a dangerous mistake.

“Neville, stop!” Harry said, but he wasn’t loud enough. All Neville did was turn to look as Harry leaped towards the cauldron, his hand outstretched. He tried to catch the salt before it hit the potion, but he was too slow.

The cauldron erupted, spraying dense green fog all over the classroom. Harry had knocked Neville down in his hurry, and he heard the boy groan.

There was shouting and ruckus all over the classroom, and Harry felt a familiar hum in his head, the pressure starting to build.

“Silence!” Shouted a voice.

As quickly as it had appeared, the fog had cleared. Snape seemed to have gotten rid of it.

The class was silent. Harry felt himself grow sick as Snape turned to look at him. With Neville on the ground, Harry was the one standing next to the smoking cauldron.

“Potter, what in Merlins name were you thinking boy-“ He stopped abruptly. Snape was now only a few feet away from Harry, and his eyes were fixed on Harry’s arm. Harry looked down, and felt his stomach clench.

There was almost no skin left. What was there was bubbling and blistering, blood and a dark green sludge dripping down what was left of Harry’s wrist. Harry could see the white bone of his forearm.

His body seemed to catch up with his mind as he stared, and it was all he could do not to collapse onto his knees.   

There was a beat of silence, in which Harry found himself tasting blood. In an effort to keep himself from vocalizing the pain, his tongue was caught tightly between his teeth.

The silence was broken by the sound of a Slytherin girl throwing up at the same moment Ron said “Bloody hell Harry.”

Harry promptly passed out.

--

Severus Snape was a prepared man. He had to be, as a traitor amongst Death Eaters.

It had been over a decade since the wizarding war, yet Snape still acted the part of a paranoid spy. He had no idea how he ended up as a Potions Professor, and still questioned how he managed to survive the war.                

Due primarily to the fact that Snape never imagined that something like this would ever happen, he was quite unprepared for the Boy-who-lived to collapse in the middle of the Potions classroom.

What a splendid start to term.  Snape thought bitterly, as he marched the unconscious boy, floating, up to the hospital wing.

Despite not having James Potter’s son in class for the first week, Snape had to deal with him in other ways.

The other teachers were raving mad for Potter. Snape had expected this, of course, but he had expected it to be for different reasons.

He wasn’t expecting the boy to do so well in his classes that Minerva McGonagall had noticed. Arguably, the only person harder to impress than her was himself.

And the boy had, against Snape’s will, impressed him.

Potter had known the answer to the 3 questions Snape was certain no first year would know.

He had managed to create a perfect potion, albeit a simple one, and he had done it in spite of the foolish red-head he had been partnered with.

Above all though, the boy had been reserved, quiet. He clearly possessed more knowledge than his peers, but didn’t make it known the same way the insufferable little girl, Hermione Granger, did. Snape felt his initial assumption of a miniature James Potter slipping away.

So, in spite of himself, he allowed a closer look of the pale boy. His face was still screwed up in pain, despite being unconscious. Snape could feel the magic aura emanating from the boys arm, his magic was already working to heal the ragged injury.

The boy’s face was flushed and sweaty, his jaw clamped tightly shut, reminding Snape of the boy remaining completely silent as his arm nearly melted off.

Shaking his head, he huffed to himself. Entering the hospital wing, he called for Madam Pomfrey.

“Merlins beard, what happened?” The woman hissed, guiding the now shivering potter onto a bed.

“I have included all of the necessary information in the diagnostic ward, if you’ll excuse me, my class is unattended.”  Snape replied smoothly. He left unnoticed, Madam Pomfrey had turned her attention to the small boy.

Snape was striding down the corridors, hurrying back to his unattended first years, when it happened. The hairs on his neck stood up and he froze.

In one swift movement, he was back against a wall, facing towards the stretching corridor with his wand out.

His eyes swept the corridor, something wasn’t right. He felt something watching him.

After several moments in which Snape stood completely still, he once again turned back down the hall, unnerved. Snape wasn’t a jumpy person, and it took a lot to throw off his intuition. He knew something had been watching, even if he hadn’t seen whatever it was.

With the Potter boy nearly having blown himself up, and Snape's unsettled nerves, he kicked all of the students out of the classroom once he returned, despite having 10 minutes left in the class.

The Weasley boy looked as if he had wanted to ask Snape about Potter, but one well placed glare sent the freckled boy scrambling to follow his classmates out of the door.

In a few moments, all of the students had left but one. Snape had been expecting this, and was not surprised to turn around and see the pale face of Draco Malfoy staring up at him.

“Have you spoken to my father recently?” the boy asked quickly. Snape raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at the boy’s trepidation.

“No, is there a reason I need too?” Snape replied coolly.

“No! I mean, no sir. No reason, I was just, er, curious.” The boy stammered. “Is Potter ok?” He added after a few moments.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and befriended the idiotic child.” 

“He’s not an idiot.” Was all Malfoy said.

Snape had seen the two boys interact, and was curious as to how Potter managed to capture Draco Malfoys attention, as the blond boy was quite the diva. Snape sighed.

“Run along, Mr. Malfoy. I will not save you from Professor McGonagall’s wrath if you are late to class.”

“kay, bye professor.”

The boys footsteps stopped abruptly before he reached the door.

“Sir?” Snape sighed again.

“Yes, Draco?”

“Are you going to hold Potioneers of Hogwarts this term?” the boy asked. How he knew about what this was, was beyond Snape.

“Yes, I can’t imagine I won’t.”

“Will I be allowed to join?”

“That remains to be seen. You must out-preform your peers, and that may manage to be difficult.” Snape was thinking of the muggle born, Granger. In the back of his head, he was reminded of the small boy laying in the hospital wing, too.

“Yes sir!” Was the response. This time the blond really did leave, leaving Snape to his silent and empty classroom.

The rest of the day passed as expected. Snape yelled at several Gryffindor 6^th years, took 10 points off each of the Weasley twins, and dealt with two crying Slytherin girls all before dinner.

Snape intended to find the headmaster before dinner time, but was distracted by Peeves before he could make it to Dumbledore’s office. Relenting to speaking to him after, he made his way to his regular seat.

Snape allowed his ear to be talked off by Professor Flitwick. Something about Whitetail poisoning and new Library books. Snape busied himself with his food, trying to enjoy his meal despite the prattling professor.

Snape was lifting his fork to his mouth when he felt a chill run up the back of his neck. His nerves went on high alert, and his heart started racing. Something wasn’t right once again, and Snape looked up sharply, hoping to find the source of this chilling feeling.

Snape scanned the room, and stopped abruptly on the headmaster. Dumbledore was smiling at something Sprout had said, but the smile was fixed, tight. Snape could feel the tension rolling of the old man, he felt it too.

Snape found his eyes torn from the headmaster.

Something had turned his gaze, and it wasn’t him.

It was a strangely intense feeling, similar yet so different to the feeling of the imperious. He found his gaze directed at the Gryffindor table. It took several moments too long before he realized he was staring at Harry Potter.

The boy had a tight bandage around his arm, but otherwise looked unharmed. His head was angled downward, and his arms were limp to his side. None of his friends seemed to have noticed.

As quickly as it had come, the feeling evaporated.

The tension in Snape's jaw loosened, and he felt a wave of undeserved relief.

The boy seemed to jerk out of whatever trance he seemed to be having, and was fidgeting with his soup. 

Snape was undeniably shook.

“Severus, are you alright?” Flitwick asked suddenly. Snape wasn’t aware the man had stopped talking.

“Quite. Excuse me, Fillius.” Snape muttered, pushing his chair back and standing up.

Without turning to look back, Snape left the great hall. He had been inside for a mere 15 minutes, and yet it felt like he had been in there for ages. Snape made his way up to Dumbledore’s office, intending to wait for the headmaster to finish at dinner.

He truly shouldn’t have been surprised that the man in question was already seated behind his desk by the time Snape made it up the spiral staircase, but Snape was already jumpy.

“Good evening, Severus.” Came the greeting. Dumbledore seemed to be in deep contemplation, and Snape knew better than to interrupt. The greying man took several minutes before he spoke again.

“How can I help you, Severus.”

Snape didn't answer right away, he hadn't thought about how he would bring this up to Dumbledore without sounding paranoid.

“Lemon drop?” The man asked. Snape shook his head mutely. His interactions with Dumbledore were always the strangest.

“Something is happening, and I’m not sure what". Snape said.

Dumbledore seemed to straighten up slightly, looking like he had just realized someone was sitting in front of him.

“So you felt it as well.” He said, thoughtfully.

“Yes."

Dumbledore didn't speak. Snape was used to the silence from the old man.

It didn’t take long for Snape to decide he was leaving. He never could get himself to stay in Albus Dumbledore’s presence for very long. Snape made is way to his living quarters. Soon Snape found himself sitting in front of his armchair with a warm glass of coffee. He let himself stare into the fire, and didn’t get up until his glass was cold and empty.

--

Harry was glad to have not needed to stay in the hospital wing overnight.

The kind woman, Madam Pomfrey, seemed insistent that he did, but when two 3^rd years came in after a wizarding game called “exploding snaps” had malfunctioned and burned both of the tips of their noses, she was distracted well enough for Harry to slip out.

He was currently sitting cross legged on the floor in the Gryffindor common room with Ron and Hermione, trying to finish up a History of Magic essay before they went to bed.

Harry was a bit distracted, he had thought he may have passed out during dinner, but when he questioned his friends about his own behavior, they said nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Harry was sure something had happened though, as he had fresh memory of sitting down with his friends, as well as leaving the hall with them, but what happened in between was completely missing.

“Ron, it’s the Goblin Gold Rush of 1809, not 1859, and you’ve misspelled Goblin.” Hermione said, frowning over Ron's shoulder.

“Oh come off it, Hermione, it’s not a big deal.” Ron grumbled, scribbling out the incorrect dates.

“It’s enough to lower your marks, is that what you want?” Hermione sniffed.

Hermione turned to Harry, her face shining.

“Harry, the potions lab is open in the evenings now after classes for students to use, do you want to come with me tomorrow? I’m going to try the potion we’re studying in class before we have to do it for a grade.” Hermione said, eagerly.

“Yeah, you sure you want me to come?” Harry was thinking about Hermione’s annoyed looks at Harry’s perfect potion, she had seemed slightly threatened.

“Yes of course. It’s necessary for two people to be involved anyways.”

“S’pose I’m not invited, then.” Grumbled Ron.

“Would you come if you were?” Harry said, grinning.

“Besides the point. She just knows I’m pants at potions.”

“Better than me” Neville had joined them, he was carrying a potted plant that held a gnarly looking green nettle.

“Well, both of you are welcome, I just figured you wouldn’t be interested.” Hermione said, miffed. “I’m going to bed now. I can read that in the morning Ronald.” She said, standing up. She turned on her heels without waiting for a response, and headed up towards the girls dormitory.

“Bossy know-it-all.” Ron mumbled.

“Big eyed toad.” They heard Hermione retort back as she retreated up the stairs.

Neville guffawed as Ron’s face went red. Harry grinned, he was glad he had found his friends.

He never had friends in primary school before, mostly due to Dudley’s threats, but it was still disheartening to have to do everything alone.                        

Harry went to bed soon after as well. He had made barely a dent in his essay, but he figured he could finish the next day before class.

Harry found himself laying on his back staring at the top of his four poster bed.

Recently, sleep had been evading him. Eventually though, long after Neville and Ron had prepared for bed and fallen asleep, Harry fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Harry knew something was wrong the second he woke up.

It was a different feeling than the one he had felt in the Potions classroom before Nevilles potion blew up. Instead of the urgent panic harry had felt then, this was a deep, foreboding sense of darkness that was weighing down Harry’s chest.

Harry tried to shake it off all morning, avoiding Hermione on the walk down to the dining hall as she always had a way to sense when Harry was off. Harry hoped it was just misplaced nerves, but knew that it wasn’t as he and his friends sat down at the dining hall.

Usually, food is already out when they come down. Students come and go as they please, depending on when their first class of the day starts.

Today though, the serving platters were out but there was no food. There was the usual talk and chatter in the great hall as the students curiously speculated as to what announcement would be made.

Harry’s eyes started to scan the high table, hoping to glean some information from the looks on his teachers faces.

None of them looked happy, in fact, the only one smiling was Dumbledore, but Harry could tell that it was just for show.

McGonagall looked worried, Flitwick looked like he had witnessed his own mother’s death, and Sprout had the tell-tale streaks down her face, indicating she had been crying. Even Snape looked uncharacteristically unnerved, as if something was truly bothering him.

“Where’s the food?” Ron asked, stupidly. He was looking around, and he hadn’t noticed the professor’s forlorn looks, like most of the students.

“Feel’s like somethings wrong.” Neville muttered. Harry looked at him in surprise, Neville never seemed one to know what was going on around him.

“Clearly somethings wrong, look at the professors!” Hermione said shrilly.

“McGonagall looks worried.” Said Harry.

“Yeah, they all do. Just look.”

“I wonder what happened.” Ron said, clearly more interested in what happened to the food than what happened to worry all of their professors.

 The conversations had started to lull, and it seemed like some of the students were starting to notice that something was off. Eventually, all of the conversation died off, and it was deathly silent save for the sound of the rain outside, and the low rumblings of a coming autumn storm.

“As you have all come to notice, breakfast has yet to appear. Do not fret, however, I require your attention for a mere moment.” Dumbledore began.

He had stood up, and his voice carried through the great hall magically enhanced. It was so quiet in the great hall that Harry could hear Nevilles breathing.

“It has come to our attention that one of our numbers has gone unaccounted for. A second year has been seen neither by teacher or student in 48 hours.” 

Samuel Shaw. Harry thought.

“Any information anyone may deem important about Samuel Shaw is encouraged to speak to your head of house. We implore all of you to make safe decisions. We are all only as safe as we choose to be.” Dumbledore said

With a great swoosh of his wand, breakfast appeared in front of the students. “Breakfast is meant to be enjoyed, so dig in!” Dumbledore finished.

It took several moments for conversation to begin again. The students were all eagerly discussing this news.

“How does one even go missing in a school like this.” Ron said. He was one of the first to reach for the plates of food.

“I’m not sure, but it must be serious, the professors look dreadful.” Hermione noted, nodding towards the high table once more.

“What house was he in?” Neville asked.

“Ravenclaw.” Harry replied.

“How’d you know?”

“Just do. Wonder what happened to him.”

“ I figured you knew, mate.” Ron said.

Harry blushed. His friends had never mentioned or questioned how Harry knew all of the things he knew, he had at first assumed they just didn’t notice, but had come to realize they just didn’t question it.

“Leave it be, Ronald. Finish your food, we have to leave in a few minutes.” Hermione said, as she looked through her bag. “I was hoping to get to Herbology early today, I have a few questions about my homework.”

“Wow, unheard of.” Ron said, sarcasm seeping through his words.

“I’ll come with you, Hermione.” Said Harry. He was eager to get out of the great hall.

So it was the two of them who made their way down to the greenhouses a few minutes later, leaving Ron and Neville to their potatoes.

“Professor Sprout looked like she had been crying.” Harry said.

“I saw that too. I wonder if she knew him, I’d figure Flitwick would be more upset, seeing as he was in Ravenclaw.”

“She didn’t. I think it’s more of a motherly thing.” Harry flushed again when Hermione looked at him pointedly.

“We don’t have to talk about that thing you do, Harry. But if you ever need to then you can.”

Harry paused for a moment, she was being unexpectedly earnest and he didn’t quite know how to respond.

“I honestly don’t know how I know, I just know that I know. That makes no sense though, even to me.”

“Well at least you see that.” Hermione said with a little chuckle. “That reminds me of a film I saw this past summer, It’s called A sixth sense. Have you seen it?” Harry shook his head.

“Oh well, it was fantastic. Maybe you can watch it over break or something.”

“I’ve never been to a film before.”

“oh, sorry, I just thought-“

“I did grow up with muggles, I’ve just never been before.” She was silent for a moment.

“Well, you should get them to take you, I love films.” She said this as they approached the front door of the greenhouse.

She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door swung inwards. Professor Sprout looked to be hurrying out, and jumped in surprise when she saw them.

“Oh! I apologize, I didn’t expect students for another few minutes. You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.” She said, her voice scratchy and hoarse.

“Of course, Professor.” Hermione said, surprised. She stepped to the side to allow the older woman to pass, and turned to Harry with a confused look on her face.

“I suppose we maybe could’ve waited for tomorrow with our questions.”

“Guess so. Let’s sit down, I never finished the essay for Professor Binns.”

Harry had written a few sentences down when the other first years began to arrive.

They had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, which made for quite the pleasant class. All of the students had arrived and were chatting amicably amongst themselves when Sprout all but ran back in.

“Sorry! Sorry! Lot’s of things to do today, split off into groups of 4!”

The class went by fairly smoothly, with Ron and Neville joining Harry and Hermione while they dealt with a Stinkmeal plant.

The lesson was pretty enjoyable, and Harry found himself appreciating the stinking roots for their functions, all while scrunching his nose to avoid the smell.

The class ended much too soon for Harry’s liking. He found that the fresh air coming through the greenhouse windows did much to clear his mind and keep his focus. As he and the others were packing their bags, Hermione spoke.

“Hurry up, Harry. We want to go to the library for our break before charms.” Harry looked up to see Hermione and Neville waiting.

“Who’s we?” Ron said, annoyed.

“Oh whatever.”

The four of them made their way up to the castle, Neville chatting animatedly about Stinkmeal plants to Harry while Hermione bickered with Ron. Neville loved Herbology, and sometimes Harry liked to wonder where his love for plants stemmed from.

They eventually made it to the library, and made their way to one of the empty tables in the back. Harry pulled out his essay for Professor Binns and stood up, wandering to the history section and beginning to look for books on the Goblin empire.

A voice startled him out of his thoughts on Goblin gold.

“Hey, Potter.”

Harry spun around to see Draco next to him, peering at the books on the upper shelf.

“Hi Draco, working on our History Essay?”

“Yeah, that old ghost assigns the worst topics.” Harry hummed in agreement. Eventually, Harry pulled out a couple of books from the right time period and handed one to Draco, who hadn’t had any luck.

“We can swap halfway through this block, so we both get time with each.” Harry offered. Draco nodded, and turned to a table on the other side of the library.

Harry saw Theo already sat at the table, along with a girl named Millicent Bulstrode. After a moment, Harry returned to his own table.

As he sat down, he noticed Hermione acting rather oddly. She was reading a book underneath the table, hiding the cover.

“what are you reading Hermione?” Harry asked, curious. Hermione's head snapped up and she quickly closed the book. Covering the title with her arms.

“Oh nothing, just some recreational reading. Did you find any helpful books?”

Harry noticed the sudden change in topic, but shrugged it off. If she wanted to keep her book a secret, he wasn’t going to pry.

The rest of the block was spent productively, for the most part.

Ron spent most of his time doodling and flipping randomly through the book Hermione lent him. Neville, Hermione, and Harry though all finished their essays, and were reading each other’s over when Draco came around.

Ron looked up and his eyes darkened. Ever since their first potions class, Ron seemed to channel his aggression towards the Slytherins.

“Thanks for the book, Potter. We – “ He gestured vaguely to his own table, “ Wanted to know if you guys wanted to start a study group. It will be handy to have around more people, we can do exam prep and homework together.” He seemed to mostly address the question to Harry.

“No, make a group with some of your Slytherin pals.” Ron snapped. Draco ignored him.

“I think it’s easier to maintain study habits if there’s a group.” Hermione said to Harry. For some reason, Neville and Hermione seemed to be waiting for Harry to make the decision.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds useful. We could all meet up in here after classes today and draw up a schedule.” Harry suggested after a moment.

“Cool, we’ll see you guys then.” Draco said, nodding respectfully to Hermione and Neville, and pointedly ignoring Ron.

It was quiet for a moment, but as soon as the blonde was out of earshot, Ron opened his mouth.

“Save it, Ron.” Hermione said, cutting the red head off.

“I dunno what you were thinking Harry, the Malfoys are bad apples. His father was a death eater through and through.” Ron said, his face flushing red.

“I don’t care what his father was.” Harry said simply. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk, especially about his choice in friends.

“Well, I think it will be more productive if I spend my time somewhere else.” Ron said, his voice still angry.

He stood up and grabbed his bag, heading out of the door towards the Charms classrooms.

The three of them looked at each other, unsure of whether to follow or not.

“My gran always told me to be careful of prejudices, and that ever since the wizarding war, blood superiority is only one side of it.” Neville said thoughtfully. Hermione nodded.

“I’m not surprised, some of the old wizarding families have extreme prejudices, and it’s not just the supporters of Voldemort. Arguably, there’s more of a divide now than there was during the war.” She said.

“Malfoy’s done nothing to suggest we cant trust him though. I know better than to tell my every secret to him, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with starting a study group with them.” Harry said.

“Yes, especially with those lot. In potions, they’re the only ones besides us who can manage to create a passable potion.” Hermione packed up her books as she said this. They didn’t have much time before Charms began.

Charm’s passed without incident, Ron had chosen to sit with Dean and Seamus, and saved no seats for the other three. So they sat on the other side of class.

As soon as the class was over, Ron left with the two other boys. Guffawing at something Seamus had said.

During History of Magic, Harry was confident as he passed up his essay, he knew he would get good marks. It was helpful having people to go over his work, and he appreciated Hermione's attention to detail.

He noticed Ron turn in a single sheet of parchment, despite having been assigned 15 inches, shaking his head, Harry left with Hermione and Neville.

“We can meet with Malfoy now and still have time to grab dinner before we head to the potions lab.” Hermione said as they made their way to the library.

“Sure, Neville, are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Well, I’m not certain yet, maybe some extra potions would do me good.”

“You don’t have to decide now.” Said Harry as he opened the large library door.

The library was empty save for a few older Ravenclaws, so the three of them sat at an open table with plenty of room around it. Hermione had drawn out a parchment and a quill and titled the top “Study Group Schedule.” She then listed down the three of their names.

She had just finished when the library door opened to reveal the three Slytherins.

“Hi guys. Do we want to go around and introduce ourselves or something? Write down your names on this parchment when you do.” Hermione said, passing her sheet over to Malfoy.

“I’m Draco Malfoy. I’ll be useful with Defense and Charms, not so much transfiguration.” The boy said, writing his name in a neat cursive on the sheet. Harry was glad the “introductions” were less of a personal one.

“Theo Nott. Memorizations my thing, History, Herbology, Astronomy, those kinds of subjects. I’m pants at wandwork.” He passed the sheet over to the girl on his left.

Millicent Bulstrode was broad, her hair laid down in a neat braid, and her eyes were a dark brown.

“Millicent Bulstrode, but I usually go by Millie or Mills. My transfiguration is decent, I’m not much of an essay writer though.” Her handwriting was only slightly less neat than Malfoys.

She passed the sheet back around to Hermione.

“I’m Hermione Granger, I suppose I’m much better at written theory than practical work.” She said, gingerly passing the sheet to Harry.

“I’m Harry Potter, I like practical work much more, I’m pretty weak in terms of written work though.” He said.

Hermione sniffed and Neville looked pointedly at him, but neither of them disputed what he had said.

“I’m Neville Longbottom. Pants at everything but Herbology.” He said simply. The others laughed and Neville grinned. The awkward tension was lifting slowly.

“I think a schedule that we all know would be good, one that’s consistent.” Hermione started. The rest of them nodded.

“We have mandated study halls twice a week, Wednesdays and Thursdays after dinner.” Malfoy said. Hermione looked surprised.

“Oh, I wonder why Gryffindor house doesn't do that?” She asked. 

“Probably because it would start a mutiny?” Neville guessed. More laughs, Harry was glad for Neville's ability to somehow twist his own awkward nature into relieving awkwardness for others.

“True, ok then, we can just do our study group on days you guys don’t have study hall. I figure if we start after dinner, we’ll be able to complete most of our homework well before curfew every night.” 

“If we wanted, we could go earlier on Fridays so we can have Friday nights off, we don’t have class in the afternoon.” Theo suggested. Hermione nodded, and began writing on the parchment.

“Ok then, I figure we can do most theory and essays and stuff in the library, but we might want to find a classroom or a place where we can practice practical spells. We haven’t started in defense, but I’m sure it will be important for Charms and Transfiguration.”

“We can ask our prefects if they know of a spot? I think I remember one of them mentioning studying for practical exams.” Said Millie.

“Perfect. Ok, this is what I’m thinking. We can trial run it this week and see if we need to make any changes.” Hermione said. The rest of them watched with interest as Hermione’s sheet split neatly into 6 pieces, with a time slot and table listing the times and locations of meetings.

“Who put her in charge?” Theo muttered playfully. “ You’d think we’d at least get Sundays off.” Hermione smiled.

“I’m open for changes, I just figured we’d want a strong start to the week.” She said.

“I’m only joking, I think Sunday Evenings will be good, we still have most of the day anyways.”

“Great. Tomorrow’s Wednesday, so our first study group would be Friday afternoon. Does anyone have anything to change or add?” Hermione asked.

“How will we organize what we do? It’s probably smart to have a plan so we can be efficient.” Malfoy said.

“We still have a couple of days, if we want, I don’t mind drawing up a more in detail plan for what we do?” Hermione suggested.

“I’m not sure we’ll ever stop studying with a schedule created by you.” Millie said, Hermione blushed while the others chuckled.

“Yeah, Hermione, I think that’d be good. I sure don’t want to do it.” Theo said. The rest of them shook their heads and agreed.

“Ok, I’m glad everything’s in order. Are you guys heading to dinner?”

So it was the 6 of them that made their way from the library towards the great hall.

Harry was glad to see Neville chatting easily with Theo, and Hermione seemed to get along well with Millie. Malfoy had fallen into step with Harry.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you study in action. I’ve always wondered how you do so well in all of your classes.” Malfoy said. Harry smiled for a second.

“Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t really know how I perform well in classes. Hermione’s a much better studier than me.”

“I don’t doubt that, she’s very, er, excited?” he said, looking at the bushy haired girl excitedly plan out their study sessions.

“I think this is the kind of situation she’s most comfortable. She’s very smart.” Harry said quietly.

Malfoy didn’t respond, he seemed to be deep in thought. The group had made its way to the dining hall. Harry turned to Malfoy before the they went to their separate tables.

“I’m pretty sure you can get aged poultice to help with the abrasions. You can tell Madam Pomphrey it’s for a headache.”

He turned before the blonde could respond, but felt Malfoy’s eyes on him as he headed towards the Gryffindor table.

Hermione looked at him questioningly, she had heard what he said. Harry just shrugged, unsure what to say. He knew what aged poultice did, but he wasn’t sure why he felt he had to tell Malfoy this.

The three made their way to the end of the Gryffindor table where the first years usually sat.

Ron was once again sitting with Dean and Seamus, with them, were Lavender and Parvati, the two other first year girls. They were all whispering together, and occasionally laughing.

Harry knew that the three of them were the subject of their conversations. Hermione also realized, as they stopped talking abruptly as the three of them sat down.

“Hi Hermione.” Lavender said loudly. After a moment, the group burst out laughing, as if it was the funniest joke ever said. Harry frowned.

“Ignore them, Hermione.” Neville said, sitting down and serving himself up. Harry and Hermione sat down too, though Hermione looked rather upset.

“Do you want me to talk to Ron?” Harry offered. It was probably the last thing Harry wanted to do, but he felt bad that Hermione seemed to be the target of Ron’s group.

“No, Neville, do come with us to potions?” Neville looked up in surprise.

“Sure Hermione, that was my plan anyways.” She nodded and fell silent, still clearly troubled.

They didn’t spend very long in the dining hall. Ron kept guffawing loudly, and Harry had the nasty feeling that Hermione was at the butt end of most of the other girl’s jokes.

It didn’t take long for Harry to lose his appetite, and Hermione seemed in a hurry to leave too. It hadn’t been 10 minutes before Harry stood up, with Neville and Hermione following suit.

More laughter followed them out, but Harry didn’t notice. The rushing in his ears had started to get louder once more, and he was doing his best to stay focused on the route to the potion’s lab.

Fortunately, Hermione seemed to start feeling better on the way down. She spoke excitedly with Neville about her plans for their study group.

“Hermione, what potion are we working on today?” Harry asked during a pause in Hermione’s spiel.

“Oh! I figured we could practice the Blister- Pop potion. Professor Snape mentioned it would be the next potion we make in class. He’s sure to lecture on it tomorrow, but I figure some practical experience before would make his lesson much more valuable.” She said.

Harry nodded, he remembered Snape saying that too.

Harry was certain he could recite that recipe from memory, it was one of the more complex potions in their textbooks, so it had drawn Harry’s attention.

“Cool, now theirs three of us, I wonder if it might be smarter to make two, so we each get to do some hands-on work?” Harry said. Hermione nodded.

“Oh, no, it’s ok, I think it might be better if I just watch at first.” Neville said, his voice suddenly anxious.

“Don't be silly Neville, we’ll help you. Harry’s right, you’ll be more confident in class if you’ve already done it once.” Hermione said, nodding again. “Plus, this one isn’t too stressful, the timing is easy compared to the Boil-remover we made.” Hermione said.

Neville paled at the reminder of the Boil remover.

Neville had already approached Harry in the dining hall when Harry returned from the hospital wing. He had been crying because he felt so bad for his potion. It took several minutes for Harry to convince him that he was ok and that Harry forgave him.

“Don’t worry, Neville. There’s a professor in there if anything were to go wrong.” Hermione said.

Harry looked up, he hadn’t thought about that.

A few moments later, they were at the potion lab. The door was open, so they went in.

Inside there were 6 stations lined up. Two of them were being used by two older Ravenclaw students. In the back, sitting at a desk and scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, was Professor Snape.

The three of them stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do, when one of the Ravenclaws spoke.

“You three can set your things at a station, there’s a slip you’ll need to fill out about the potion you want to practice. Bring it back to Professor Snape and he’ll approve or deny it.” The girl said. Hermione nodded gratefully.

“Thanks.” said Harry. The three of them set their things at two work stations. Hermione began scribbling away at the slip the girl had mentioned.

It didn’t take long for her to finish, the three made their way to the back. Harry’s head was startlingly clear. His ears had started to ring on their walk down, but now there was sweet silence in Harry’s head.

“Supplies are in the storage room. I expect you to clean after yourselves.” The man said, hardly looking at the slip before vanishing it with his wand.

After they were all settled, Harry and Hermione went to the storage supply room.

In class, everything that was necessary for their potions was set out on a table, so they hadn’t needed to come into the storage closet.

It was a dark but large room, with shelves and isles going up and down. There was a floating bulb in the middle, which turned on as they entered.

“Ask him for what you need, he’ll show you where it is.” Came the Ravenclaw’s voice once more. Harry looked curiously at the bulb.

“Can you help me find pinchwood seeds?” The bulb brightened slightly and began to float away.

Hermione and Harry followed. The bulb stopped in front of a large shelf. In neat, labeled rows, they saw a wicker basket labeled “Pinchwood seeds”. With the bulbs help, they gathered all of the materials quickly and made their way back towards the lab stations.

“We call him Asimov.” The girl said. “Oh, my name is Eliza Thatchers. This is Michal Heinz. We’re 5^th years.”

“Thank you for the help.” Harry said. The girl nodded.

“Asimov, like the cat, or like the writer?” Hermione asked. Eliza nodded, looking surprised, but not clarifying.

“You must be muggleborn, so am I. No wizard has ever gotten that reference.” Eliza said. Hermione smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

Eliza had turned back to her cauldron, so Harry and Hermione refocused on theirs. Harry knew he didn’t need the textbooks directions, but took his out anyways. He figured its better safe than sorry, and he knew it would be easier for Neville to follow along if they had the book out.

Harry was content to let Hermione delegate tasks.

She set him to slicing and juicing the field worms, while Neville worked on counting out the amount of Pinchwood seeds. Hermione herself started on the base of the potion.

They worked in relative silence, only the sounds of Harry’s knife and the sizzling of Eliza’s potion could be heard.

“Hermione, only stir counterclockwise until it turns light green, then stop and add the lemon juice, if you wait until the potion gets too dark of a green, it won’t lighten up even after adding the juice.” Harry said.

Hermione stopped abruptly and re read the textbook. She flushed and muttered a thank you to Harry.

The potions were going well enough. They were sitting and waiting for the potions to simmer, as they each had to sit until they began to steam. The book said it could be as long as 25 minutes. Eliza and Michal seemed to be wrapping up their potions.

“Who is Asimov?” Neville asked Hermione.

“He’s a cat. He’s a character in a childrens book for muggles. It’s called the Penderwicks. I used to really like it when I was younger. He’s also a classic literature writer, in fact, I’m sure that cat was named after the writer, to me though, he’s always been a cat.” Hermione said.

They were speaking quietly, almost whispers, as to not disturb the older students, but more so to avoid the wrath of the looming Professor in the back.

“I think I’ve heard of the book before. Gran used to take me to see muggle films sometimes, and I think I saw a poster for a film with that title.”

“Oh, yes, you probably would have. They made it into a film shortly after the books became popular.”

“Harry, what were your favorite books when you were younger? You seem like you’d be a big reader.” Neville said. Harry turned to the other two.

“Er, I’m not sure. There's too many to choose from.”

“Ok, well what’s one that you like?”

“I liked Lord of The Rings.” Harry said shrewdly.

“Oh, I do love that series too Harry! Doesn’t Dumbledore remind you of the great wizard Gandalf?” Hermione whispered excitedly. Before Harry could respond, Eliza had spoken.

“I think he likes to pretend he IS Gandalf. I’d be willing to place Sickles on it.” She said. The three first years laughed.

“I’ve only ever seen the films.” Neville admitted.

“Oh Harry, the films are so wonderful, you must go see them some time!” Hermione said, turning to Harry.

Harry shrugged; he knew he’d never be able to go to a film with the Dursleys.

“You’ve never seen them? I thought it was super popular with muggle families.” Neville said curiously.

“Well, my aunt and Uncle took my cousin.” Harry recalled, thinking back to that wonderful afternoon when nobody was home.

“Harry’s never been to a film before.” Hermione said. Neville looked up in surprise.

“Huh, well you should definitely try one.” Neville said. Harry just nodded, he didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“But why’d you name the light bulb Asimov if Asimov was the name of a cat?” Neville asked, turning to Eliza.

“He feels like an Asimov.”

“That is quite enough.” Professor Snape’s voice rang through the lab.

Despite him not speaking loud, it felt as if they had all been yelled at. They fell silent, and sat without speaking until their potion steamed up, indicating it was nearly finished.

Eliza and Michal had left. They had cleaned their work stations up and bottled up their potions. 

Harry knew that Eliza had been making a Hair lengthening potion, while Michals had been a standard pepper-up potion. He had never seen those potions before, but he knew that his guesses were correct.

Hermione let Neville add the final touches to each of their potions, two white-pony hairs into each, and their potions looked exactly as described in the textbook.

They began to clean up, wiping down the table and returning their supplies into the correct places. Asimov floated gently along behind them, lighting up their way.

Soon, everything was cleared except for the potions themselves. None of them knew how to vanish something, so Hermione hesitantly approached Professor Snape's desk.

“I will take care of it, you are dismissed.”

The three of them hurried out, not wanting to be chastised again. It was getting late, curfew was soon to be upon them.

“Well that wasn’t so bad, was it Neville?” Hermione asked. Neville shook his head.

“Better than last time.”

“It was nice of Eliza to help us out, It would have been a lot worse if we had to ask Snape what we were supposed to do.” Hermione said as she dug through her bag.

“Yeah. I liked her, she seemed a little bit eccentric though.” Replied Neville.

“I think the potions lab will be good for our study group. Maybe going down once a week or once every two weeks will keep us ahead in terms of practical potion making.”

Hermione finally pulled out her study session plans. Harry sighed, Hermione was just as eccentric as Eliza was, just in her own ways, he thought to himself.

It wasn’t long before the three made their way the common room. They bid farewell to Hermione pretty quickly, it had been quite a day, and Harry was quite tired.

Harry was worried about Hermione being with Lavender and Parvati though, and was remined of Ron’s behaviors as soon as they walked into their room. Ignoring the three boys, Harry changed and drew his curtains rather quickly.

The ringing had started to come back, and Harry wasn't sure if he’d be able to sleep. Eventually though, he did. He fell asleep wondering why his ears only seemed to stop ringing when he was in the dungeons.

Chapter Text

Severus Snape was returning to his quarters after a particularly nasty day. Samuel Shaw still hadn’t turned up. Unfortunately for the Professors, this meant that on top of their educational duties, they had to spend every moment not in class working to find the boy. On top of all of this, were his duties as head of house.

The boy himself hadn’t shown up, and strangely enough, the only thing left of the boy seemed to be his memory. All evidence of Shaw’s existence had vanished. All of his personal belongings had disappeared with him.

This, to Severus at least, suggested the boy had disappeared on his own whim. However, Dumbledore and the others seemed to disagree. They worried that something nefarious was at work within the castle.

Severus detested the thought that a mere third year could possess the knowledge necessary for escaping the castle with no person, ghost, or painting having seen, but he was duty bound to do what was asked for him, and Severus had enough experience to know that disagreeing with Albus Dumbledore meant you were most likely wrong.

It was late, as staff meetings tended to run long these days. This one had been a particular nasty, as some of the teachers complained about no longer having any time to themselves.

Severus secretly agreed with them that the search was fruitless, but knew better than voicing those thoughts.

“Headmaster, this is ridiculous. I am several days behind grading, unable to make my own study hours, and have been forced to eat my meals in my quarters well after meal time is over! Surely this search that has yielded nothing has proven to be in vain.” Professor Mathewws said, his voice louder than necessary.

“Matthewws do not be a fool. Do you think you’re the only one inconvenienced? Dumbledore has led the search himself, and he answers to far more people, and has far more important duties than you. How selfish must you be to want to give up a search for a missing child?” McGonagall snapped, eyeing the young arithmancy professor down.

“Minerva be sensible, it is not fair to our other students to be so unavailable. I admit myself that I have been less than present as head of house, this search has inhibited our ability to do our jobs.” Professor Flitwick said reasonably.

“Speak for yourself, Filius. I am under the impression that any difficulties you may be having are due to your own inefficiency’s.”

Severus was surprised to hear Sprout snap something so nasty to her longtime friend, but it had been quite obvious that the woman had been affected very deeply by Shaw’s disappearance.

“Now there’s no need for that.” Interrupted Bradies, the Astronomy teacher.

“I understand the toll this search has taken on all of you.” Dumbledore said, his voice demanding the attention of all in the room.

“I can only express gratitude. However, I find the thought of giving up on a student most repulsing, and cannot imagine stopping our search until we find young Shaw.”

It was quiet for a moment, before voices started to spring up again. One however, rose above the others.

“It is foolish to waste all our efforts on one student, when it causes us to neglect our others.”

“Any neglecting is due to your own incompetence.” Severus spoke.

The rest of the table fell silent quite quickly, Severus seldom spoke in these meetings, but people tended to listen when he did.

“Your ineptitudes are not enough reason to stop the search. As it happens, opposing the headmaster exposes not only your immense stupidity, but your inability to see past your own self-interest. It is clear to me that this meeting is over-“He turned to Dumbledore. “Unless you have something else, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling, Severus knew that Dumbledore didn’t take his loyalty for granted.

“No, I expect all of you to continue as we were.”

Severus was among the first out of the door. Beside him Minerva walked with a rather ferocious step. 

“This search, I fear it is fruitless.” The woman admitted after several moments of silence. Snape had suspected as much, Minerva tended to see the same things he did.

“I suspect Dumbledore knows more than he’s letting on.”

“His habit of keeping us in the dark is quite maddening.”

“Quite, Goodnight, Minerva.” He said, bidding farewell as they both turned towards their respective quarters.

“You as well, Severus.”

Severus remained deep in thought as he made his way towards the dungeons. It had only been a few days since the boy had went missing, and yet already several teachers had determined their search in vain.

He was certain that Dumbledore knew something they didn’t, and hoped the headmaster would let them in on what he knew soon.

Severus too had been extremely busy. He refused to stop holding open potion labs, despite having to miss dinner every night to hold them.

Enough students took advantage of his lab for him to feel it necessary to keep it running. As he walked, his thoughts turned to Potioneers of Hogwarts.

Typically, he began these meetings in October, once he determined if any first years would be joining.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they didn’t manage to find Shaw, there was no time available for things like that.

He was unsurprised when Eliza Thatchers had approached him about it. She was a curious girl, and extremely clever, she also tended to speak her mind regardless of whether it was prudent.

“Professor, will we be holding Potioneers this year? I’ve noticed our Professors have been busy with the missing boy, and you are a head of house after all.” The rest of her classmates had been trickling out after their lesson.

“I’m not sure yet.” He said, hoping that would be enough for the girl.

“Ok, well, I think you should invite those first years, from that lab the other day.” She said absently.

“You’re dismissed, Miss Thatchers.” He hoped to sound stern, but the girl never seemed to notice if she was being chastised.

“Have a good night professor.” She said as she turned to leave.

Snape had been thinking about Potioneers long before Thatchers had approached him. He typically invites 2 or 3 first years to join.

As a first and second year, you’re allowed only to watch and take notes. Still though, he found that his picks tended to be very successful not just in potions, but in all other areas of school as well.

As he entered his quarters, his thoughts turned to the curious Potion Lab he had held a few evenings ago.

Potter and his two friends had showed up, much to Severus’s surprise. He was half tempted to refuse them, no first years had ever utilized his lab space, and despite there being no rule against, he was not opposed to creating one on the spot.

Despite his first misgivings, he had seen Granger and Potter work before, and was confident they could handle to potion they were creating. He kept an eye on them though, worried about Longbottom’s less than delicate hands.

He had listened (more closely than he would ever admit) to the first years conversations.

He was curious to find that Petunia Dursley had never taken the Potter boy to a film, it seemed just the kind of things young boys loved to do.

Asimov (he couldn’t shake the name, it seemed the knowledgeable bulb had taken a liking to the name Eliza had chosen for him) had also seemed to like the three young students.

The bulb had a nasty habit of only obeying certain people, and sometimes the bulb would even fake shatter if the person asking had been quite rude.

It was late by the time Severus finally fell into bed. He was exhausted, and yet something kept him awake even later into the night.

….

The week was passing rather slowly for Harry’s liking. Ron still wasn’t talking to them. Harry asked Hermione how it was in her dorm with Lavender and Parvati,  but she didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Mealtimes had been the worst. They found that they preferred to skip lunch in lieu of snacks, and spend minimal time in the great hall at dinner.

Neville had outperformed Ron in their last potions class. They hadn’t yet made the potion, but they had a quiz on the theory and timing of the Blister-pop potion.

Snape had refused Ron's work, he had left most of the questions blank. He nodded ever so slightly at Neville's work though, which in Snape language meant that he had done quite well. Harry and Hermione had gotten perfect marks.

Ron didn’t seem to be getting over his anger any time soon, so they didn’t bother inviting him to the study group.

Friday afternoon, after a rather grueling Transfiguration lesson, Neville, Hermione and Harry made their way down to the library.

When they arrived at the library, their usual table was occupied by the three Slytherins.

“Hey guys, glad we all made it.” Hermione said as the three Gryffindor’s sat down.

“We just had the most jaw droppingly boring History of Magic lesson, so lets start with something else.” Malfoy complained. Theo and Millie echoed their agreement.

There was a flurry of movement as they all reached in their bags to pull out parchment and quills. It was no surprise to any of them when Hermione pulled out a several parchment long study plan.

“I took a copy of Millie’s schedule so I could see what classes you guys had when. We have Potions and Astronomy together, so that will be easy to schedule." She took a breath

"I thought we could start with homework review, and then go into studying the theory and terms. Lets start with Charms today.” Hermione finished.

Everyone was agreeable, and so, unbeknownst to them, the first interschool study group in 35 years began.

It had been several hours before the group called it quits. They had found that there was only so much material to go over so early in the term, so they spent most of their time finishing assignments.

“My brain feels full.” Stated Millie. They had all ben quiet for several minutes.

Each of them had finally finished their Potions essays to Hermione’s satisfaction. Draco and Theo both had their heads down and their eyes shut, while Neville was flipping absently through a Herbology book.

“Mine does too.” Groaned Malfoy.

“I’m certain that as term moves forward, We’ll get used to the work load.” Hermione said brightly. She had seemed very pleased at the groups focus.

“Well we’re certainly getting full marks on these.” Neville said, gesturing at the essays still out.

“We could get started on our-“

“Noo Hermione. Tomorrow we’ll start.” Millie said, cutting Hermione off. Hermione blushed.

“Ok then, tomorrow.” Hermione was flipping through a book.

Harry had noticed it was the same book she was reading before that she didn’t want people to know about. He tried to get a glance at the cover, but the book was face down.

A few minutes later, Hermione stood up to leave. The Gryffindor’s bade farewell to the three Slytherins still at the table, and made their way up the corridor to the Gryffindor common room.

“I’m glad the study group went well. I was worried we wouldn’t be productive.” Said Hermione, leading the group up the stairs.

“It was great Hermione.” Said Harry.

“This weekend will serve as a sort of practice run, to see if the study group will actually work. I’m pleased with your work Neville, I think you’ll get full marks in Potions on Monday.”

“I dunno about that, but it ought to be better than last time.”

Hermione and Neville continued to chat as the three entered the common room. Harry had tried to focus on their conversations, but he felt his concentration slipping.

The waves in his ears were roaring again, and he felt a deep sense of foreboding in his gut. He squinted his eyes, trying to distract himself from the noise.

“Alright Harry?” He heard Neville ask, though it sounded faint over the roar in Harry’s skull.

“Yeah, think I’ll try and lie down before dinner. If I’m not up you can go without me.” He muttered. Neville nodded, frowning with concern.

He was glad to find their dormitory empty of certain red-heads. He didn’t bother changing out of his robes, and collapsed on his bed. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

..

Harry opened his eyes to find himself no longer in his dormitory.

Curious, he looked around. He was in a sort of chamber, with a table in the middle large enough to seat several people.

There was a small fire crackling in the corner, and a large grandfather clock stood near a closed doorway. There was a few windows open to grounds outside.

Through the window he could tell he was still inside Hogwarts, though he had never been inside of the room he was in now.

Curiously, Harry found his head eerily silent. It wasn’t just his head though, there were no sounds at all.

Not the familiar crackle of the fire, or the wind outside, or even the regular creaks and groans of the castle. It was completely silent.

Harry looked at the clock. The hands currently read 4:50. He shook his head, blinking a few times, he found that the clock now read 11:00.

Turning away and looking back once more, the clocks hands had changed position again, reading 7:30. He frowned in confusion.

The hand of the clock was ticking back and forth, but no ticking sound could be heard.

Harry had come to the conclusion that he must be dreaming.

Oddly, Harry almost never had dreams as vivid as this.

He was still pondering this dream, and what it could mean, when the doorway opened. Several people streamed inside, and he began to recognize his professors.

McGonagall was first, followed by Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, and several others he didn’t recognize. The last person to enter was the Headmaster, he shut the door soundly behind him, and took the last remaining chair at the table, right at the head.

Harry could see Dumbledore’s mouth moving, but still, no sound reached his ears. After several minutes of conversation, the faint sound of voices began to flutter into his ears.

“… Surely this search that has yielded nothing has proven to be in vain!” Said a professor who was not familiar to Harry.

“Mathewws don’t be a fool.” He heard McGonagall snap.

Harry struggled to hear what she was saying, her voice was still floating too softly to be heard. “How selfish must you be to want to give up a search for a child!”

Harry knew what the teachers must be speaking about. Samuel Shaw still hadn’t turned up, no word or updates had been given to the students, and so Shaw remained a popular topic in conversation between students.

Harry listened to the Professors argue amongst themselves, as they finally stood to leave, Harry found himself being sucked backwards.

Scrabbling to grab onto something, he found that the world around his was fading, yielding nothing to hold onto. With a gasp, he was yanked along.

His vision went black, and after a few gut wrenching moments of pure terror, he found himself standing on his two feet once more. This time in a clearing surrounded by trees, lit up by moonlight.

It took a moment for Harry to gather his bearings. It was still unnaturally silent, so Harry was sure he was still in a dream.

What is going on? Where am I now?  Harry thought too himself.

After Harry got his bearings, he took a proper look at the clearing. To his surprise, he saw a boy, only slightly larger than himself, laying face down in the grass.

His legs were bent at odd angles, and he seemed to be lying in a puddle of green and black sludge.

Harry rushed over to the boy and knelt down. He tried to roll the boy over, but found that he couldn’t touch him, his hands went right through the boy into nothing, as if Harry was a ghost.

Harry didn’t need to see the boys face to know who this was, though.

“Samuel.” Harry said, his voice lodged in his throat, and he couldn’t even hear himself. “Where are you?”

No answer came to him, though. Standing up, Harry looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

His eyes fell upon a cluster of trees. They were trees unlike anything he had ever seen before, they were huge, with trunks as wide as Harry was tall.

They stretched further up then Harry could see. Their trunks were covered in smooth, dark bark, which were almost glass-like.

Harry felt the trunks had a strange resemblance to a marble, or maybe a granite statue. There were 4 tree’s of the same texture, each of the as grand as the next.

Curiously, Harry put both hands on the trees. His hands didn’t go through them, as they had with Samuel. Beneath his palms he could feel the cool, smooth texture. It was there he stood, marveling at the tree’s, when he felt the now-familiar tug in his gut.

With a rush, Harry found himself back in his bed.

 He sat straight up, breathing heavily. Harry opened his curtains on his bed.

He found the Dormitory to still be empty, but the darkness outside suggested it was nearly past dinnertime. As Harry stood up, he felt his knees buckle. Nearly collapsing, he leaned on his bedframe, exhausted.

Harry marveled at the feeling, he wasn’t sleepy, his eyes were wide open. But his body felt as though he had just spent hours running as fast as he can.

As he slowly began to fully stand, the peaceful quiet in his head was no more, once again, the rushing of the waves in Harry’s head were back in full swing.

Harry was trying to recall the strange nature of his dreams. He vaguely remembered a silent grandfather clock, and the feeling of a marble tree.

Shaking his head, Harry made his way down to the common room, then out to the dining hall.

As Harry sat down next to Hermione and Neville, he found himself remembering the table in the room as well.

“Hi Harry, we didn’t want to wake you.” Hermione said.

There were no other first years at the table, which seemed to be putting both of them in a good mood.

“We we’re going to see Hagrid, but we figured you’d want to come. It’s too late now, but we can go tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you alright Harry?” Hermione said after a moment.

“Yeah. I just had a strange dream though.” Harry said. Neville and Hermione looked up curiously.

“Strange how?”

“I’m not actually sure. I don’t remember it all. I just woke up feeling exhausted, I could barely stand.”

“Do you think you’re catching a cold?”

“No, I dunno. Something just felt off.”

Hermione and Neville exchanged a glance, which Harry pointedly ignored.

Dinner passed by rather well, and they spent the night playing gobstones in the common room.

Harry still couldn’t remember anything else from his dream, but he wasn’t forgetting what he remembered either.

He had the strangest feeling that something he saw in his dream was important, but he couldn’t grasp hold on it long enough to know what it was.

--

The weekend went too fast for Harry’s liking. The study group met twice more, and it went just as well as the first.

Harry found that he liked spending time with Millie, Theo, and Malfoy, and that it seemed like the group would quickly become friends.

Harry and Hermione went to go visit Hagrid, though Neville stayed behind to water his several plants.

It had been nice to talk with Hagrid over tea, though Harry avoided the Rock Cakes, claiming he had just eaten. 

Harry had been careful not to mention anything more to his friends about his peculiar dream, though he kept having fragments return to him at strange moments.

He now recalled the Professor’s conversations, but still couldn’t piece together the strange second half, in the forested clearing.

In Harry’s opinion, the best thing that happened this weekend was his conversation with Ron on Sunday evening.

“How’s the study group going?” Ron asked suddenly. The dormitory was empty, as the other boys were still in the showers.

Harry looked up from his pajamas. Ron looked awkward, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to say what he had said.

“They’re going good, you’re always welcome to join.” Harry said slowly.

He had missed Ron’s humor, and Harry had a feeling that Ron was just slightly hardheaded, which Harry could forgive.

“Oh, well, thanks.” Ron said. After a moment of silence, Ron scurried out of the door. Harry shook his head. Ron sure was strange.

That next morning though, Ron had joined Neville and Hermione and Harry on their way to breakfast.

No one said anything, but Harry could tell that the others had missed Ron too.

“You’d think they’d put our two hardest classes on different days. Transfiguration straight to double potions? What a nightmare.” Ron said as they walked from the Transfiguration hall to the dungeons.

“My two worst classes.” Neville groaned.

“Oh it’s not that bad. You both have been doing well in transfiguration, anyways.” Hermione said, rolling her eyes at the two boys.

“Yeah but only because Harry shows us how! And it still takes us forever to get it.” Neville complained.

“Not all of us are as clever as you Hermione, its hard for us!” Ron added. Hermione blushed, pleased with the compliment.

“Oh stop it, I just study a lot.” She said, still smiling.

“To what could you possibly be smiling about right now.” Drawled Theo as the four of them grew near Malfoy’s group.

“Just remembering I don’t have to see you guys twice a week.” Hermione shot.

Ron and Malfoy laughed as Theo’s face turned red. Chuckling, Harry found himself suddenly much lighter.

All weekend, including the morning, Harry had been dealing with the waves in his ears. But like always, as he drew closer to the Potions classroom, the noise seemed to fade.

A few minutes later, the classroom door swung open. Following his friends inside, he found himself paired with Neville. Hermione and Ron were sat at the lab nearest them.

As usual, the class fell silent as soon as Professor Snape walked in.

When he did, he heard Snape's voice echo in his ears, yet the man himself hadn't opened his mouth: “Your ineptitudes are not enough reason to stop the search”.

As soon as Snape shut the door behind him, with his usual black robes swishing behind him, Harry knew that his dream wasn’t a dream.

He had seen something that had really happened. Snape's words that Harry had heard in his dream had really come out of the mans mouth.

He was shaken out of his reverie as Snape began to speak.

“If you have prepared yourselves as expected, today’s class should give plenty of time to create a satisfactory Blister-pop potion. Directions are written on the board, as well as on page 43 of your textbooks. You may begin.”

Harry was glad they had already made this potion once before, it had been easy enough, if not time consuming.

“Alright, would you mind gathering the materials?”

--

Severus Snape loathed trivial conversations, of which he was forced to endure much more then he would desire.

Who knew that becoming a potions professor would require such nonsense? Certainly not him, for he would have never taken the post if he knew.

He was trying to grade during his classes. Though he supported Dumbledore’s decision, the fact was, there wasn’t enough time in the day to complete everything he needed to complete.

Grading during classes is what he has been forced to do.

The Blister-pop potion was simple enough. It would keep his first years occupied, and hopefully give him plenty of time to finish his fourth year’s essays on Engorgement potions.

There was a quiet lull in the classroom. Murmured conversations between students as they cut up their materials and gently stirred their potions.

Around halfway through the class, Severus looked up suddenly.

It had been nearly a week since Snape had felt the strange pull in his gut. Something was off though.

Putting his papers down, he stood up.

Probably not the best idea to leave first years unattended with my grading papers anyway. Snape thought to himself.

He walked through the students’ labs, eyeing potions and leaving comments here or there.

He rarely told a student what they did wrong, as they would never learn. He didn’t however, have anything against telling a student that they had in fact done something wrong.

“Atrocious, Mr. Finnigan. Keep this performance up, you’ll be back in first year potions again next year.” Snape said. Finnigan looked cowed, and soon began cutting his ingredients more carefully.

As he passed Malfoys and Notts potion, he was impressed against his will.

They had managed a perfect potion, in less time then seemed possible. Noticing a handwritten note sheet labeled “Blister-pop”, he sighed.

Lucious Malfoy seemed to be carefully ensuring his son preformed well enough to earn him a spot on Potioneers. Not that Snape could refuse allowing Malfoy to join anyways.

Snape continued to walk around, though his sense of foreboding grew.

It pinched almost painfully as he approached the work stations on the far left, where Potter and his friends were sitting.

With barely a glance at Grangers work, he knew it would be perfect. As he drew nearer to Potter and Longbottom, Snapes heart dropped.

Longbottom seemed to be slightly shaking Potter, as if Potter was in some sort of trance. With one look at the round faced boy, Snape could tell something about Potter was affecting him, too.

No one had seemed to notice besides Longbottom. Granger and Weasley seemed focused on their potions, and the rest of the class remained oblivious.

Snape approached their table, and felt a magic pulse emanating from the brown haired boy. He drew up behind the two, and Longbottom looked up, tears welling in his eyes.

“Somethings wrong.”

Longbottom’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Though it wasn’t difficult to read what the boy was trying to say.

 Snape let his hand fall onto Potters shoulder, and like a slap in the face, suddenly there was an extraordinary roaring noise filling Snape's head. Snape crouched down, nearly eye level with the two boys.

Snape’s hand tightened on the boys shoulder.

Strangely, tension in the boy’s shoulder seemed to release, and he leaned back into Snape's hand.

Looking up at Longbottom, he nodded to the door, hoping beyond hope that the clumsy first year would understand what he meant.

The boy nodded and stood up, nearly stumbling down to the ground, but managing to make his way out of the classroom.

Snape wasn’t sure if any of the other students had noticed, but didn’t have much room to care.

“Potter.” Snape tried. Much to his surprise, he could hear his own voice rather clearly. The boy’s face was still facing towards the ground. Slowly though, Potter lifted his head, and turned.

It wasn’t potter who was staring back at him.

Expecting green eyes to greet him, he was chilled when he realized that Potters eyes were completely dark. No pupils, no whites of the eye, nothing, just black emptiness.

Despite having no pupils, and no way of knowing where the boy was looking exactly, he knew that whatever this was, was staring directly at him.

“Severus.” The boys voice was still his own, yet it came out slightly deeper, quieter, and more menacing. Potter had said Snape's name slowly and clearly.

“What are you?” Snape whispered. His hand was still clenched on the boy’s shoulder.

“ 'Your ineptitudes are not reason enough to stop the search' .”

A cold chill slipped down Snapes back as he realized he was hearing his own words.

“You are not the boy.” Snape said after a moment.

“No, and yet I am nothing without him. Interesting, it seems even you have been left in the dark.”

Quite suddenly, the boy’s eyes shut and his body drooped forwards, nearly keeling out of the chair.

The roaring quieted, though only slightly. Snape wrapped his arms around the boy’s stomach and lifted him back into the chair. Potters head slightly lolling, Snape remained kneeled next to him.

After several moments, Potter lifted his head and turned to Snape. Snape felt an undeniable relief sag through him as he recognized Lilly’s eyes staring back at him.

“Professor?” the boy mumbled, his voice questioning.

“Are you feeling alright Potter?” Snape asked, searching the boy for signs of pain.

“Yeah, I- I think so. It’s all so quiet.” He said, his eyes boring into Snape's. Suddenly, Snape knew that whatever this roaring that was echoing in his skull was, haunted this boy.

Looking away, Snape stood up. His hand slipped from its place on Potter’s shoulder, and the rushing ebbed away.

None of the other students had noticed. Nothing had changed, everyone was still working quietly on their potions. Though Snape caught the questioning gaze in Grangers eyes as she looked back and forth from the boy and back to himself. Sighing, he went to gather his thoughts.

Something was holding him back from dismissing the first years immediately and finding Dumbledore. Something that Potter, well, not really Potter, but Potter said, stopped him.

Snape looked up from his desk. Potter seemed to have no recollection of what happened. He acted completely normal, and seemed perfectly ok, if a little tired.

The rest of the class continued on as normal, but Severus’s mind was whirling. Something about how the boys’ eyes had changed struck a strange chord in his head.

Snape felt a faint memory returning to him, he had seen it’s eyes before, but he couldn’t remember any when.   

“Once your potions are complete, bottle them up and place them in the rack up front.” Snape said as the class neared completion.

He watched as the first years hurried to clean up their work stations and turn in their potions. Potter approached the front table to place their sample. Without thinking, Snape spoke.

“Potter, remain after class.”

The boy nodded, seemingly unsurprised. After the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins cleared out of the room, Potter approached Snape's desk. He stood, clearly waiting for Snape to speak.

“Are you feeling well?” Snape began. Up close, Harry looked far less like James then Snape remembered. The messy hair was the same, but that was the extent of the resemblance.

Potters nose and eyes had the same shape as Lilly's. The boy was small, much smaller than his peers, and as he stood in front of Snape's desk, he seemed to sag, as if he was exhausted.

The boy nodded, but said nothing.

“I heard the waves.” Snape said quietly, not sure how else to describe the noises he had heard.

He wasn’t sure if Potter would understand, but the boy seemed to stand up straighter, his eyes lighting up slightly.

“Sometimes its quiet.” The boy paused before drawing his shoulders up slightly and lifting his chin. “It’s not too loud for me though.”

Snape was reminded strongly of Lilly once more. She had been quite a proud child.

Seeing Potter’s (possibly misplaced) bravery reminded Snape that this boy was barely 11, not old enough to understand what was going on.

He sighed.

“You’re dismissed, Potter.” He said after a moment. The boy nodded, and turned away.

Snape watched him go, and felt a feeling of foreboding enter him. The memory of the boy’s eyes turning towards him, empty yet seeing, shook Snape to his core.

Chapter Text

All of a sudden, and without much of a warning, Harry found himself seated on a worn down swing. The first thing he noticed was that his hands were gripping the rusty chains quite tightly, his knuckles white with pressure. The next thing he noticed was that he was weirdly cold. It took him several moments too long to realize that he was talking. When he finally realized, his voice stuttered to a halt. He looked around, confused.

Harry had never felt more dazed than he did now. Which is definitely why he didn’t realize that he hadn’t just been talking to himself.

“Go on…” Came a voice. Harry found himself staring, open mouthed, at a fox. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was just barely starting to get his bearings.

I’m going crazy. Harry thought to himself. The fox opened his mouth, and Harry flinched despite himself. He had some notion in the back of his head that the fox was about to bite him, his sharp teeth on full display. Harry felt his mouth open into a small “o” when the fox spoke.

“Perhaps.” Said the fox.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Harry said.

“No you are most certainly not dreaming.” Came his reply. Harry stared even more. The shock of a talking animal had worn off mostly, and now Harry found himself pondering how human expressions could translate to a fox, as Harry was sure that he was wearing a smugly amused expression.

“Where are we?” Harry asked after a few moments. Harry found himself studying his surroundings. It was a strange phenomena, the more he tried to focus on the edges of what seemed like a park, the less he was able to see. While blurry wasn’t a great description, Harry found himself unable to determine where the edges of his vision ended and where his surroundings began.

“Does it matter?” The fox asked.

“Er. I think so?” Harry said, turning his attention back to the fox. Harry studied the fox intently. He was laying down on the soft wood chips a few meters away from Harry’s swing. His front paws were laid out in front of him, and his hind legs were tucked underneath him. He looked comfortable, yet able to leap away at a moment's notice.

“You were saying something before you so rudely cut yourself off.” said the fox, in what Harry could only describe as a casual tone.

“I don’t remember.”

“No matter, I’m sure you have much more interesting things to say now that you’re here.” Harry tried to determine if that was an insult or not. He gave up after a few seconds.

“So who are you?” Harry asked suddenly. Harry frowned, he didn’t think he was going to actually say that aloud, it sounded quite rude.

“It’s difficult to distinguish thoughts and spoken words here, no harm.” Said the fox, seemingly unmoved by Harry’s abruptness.

Harry didn’t say anything, and neither did the fox. The quiet was peaceful, and Harry found his eyes drooping.

“I wouldn’t go to sleep just yet, Harry.” said the fox. Harry opened his eyes.

“Why not?” He asked.

“You’ll miss all the fun when you wake up.” Said the fox.

“I thought you said I wasn’t asleep?” Harry said in question.

“No, I said you weren’t dreaming. Just a friendly word of advice, don’t let him out of your sight.”

Harry opened his mouth, probably to ask who he shouldn’t let out of his sight or something of a similar nature, when Harry realized that he was alone. In a blink, the fox had disappeared.

Harry looked around, wondering where the fox could have gone, when he noticed that his surroundings were dimming. It was as if someone had unplugged a lamp, and everything was slowly fading into darkness.

As quickly as he became aware in the park, he found himself in his bed. The only light filtering into the dorm was from a reflection of the moon bouncing off of the ink black lake. Harry’s eyes were adjusted though, so he could see the silhouette of the other first years’ bedposts. It was quiet, and Harry could make out the soft sounds of breathing.

It had been maybe a minute or so, just long enough for Harry to start remembering the strangeness of his dream, when he was startled out of his reverie. Almost simultaneously, Neville and Ron had shot up. Harry hadn’t shut his drapes, so he saw both of his friends rip open their own bed drapes.

“What was that?” Harry heard Neville say, panic evident in his voice.

“Bloody hell, she sounded terrible!” Said Ron. Harry sat up as well.

“What are you guys talking about?” Harry whispered. The other two boys looked at Harry in surprise.

“You must have heard it!” Neville said.

“Heard what?” Harry asked impatiently.

“It sounded like a woman, she was screaming for help.” Ron said, his voice hushed.

“Like she was in pain!” Neville added. Harry frowned, he had heard nothing like that. Harry felt a sense of foreboding. He knew with a certainty that whatever Ron and Neville had heard was not what it seemed.

“It was probably nothing.” Harry ventured. It was dark, but Harry could see the determination on Ron’s face.

“She needs help, and I’m not going to ignore that.” Said Ron. Harry turned to Neville.

“It was probably just Ms. Norris or something.” Harry said, hoping Neville would ignore whatever had called out to them.

“It wasn’t, mate.” Interrupted ron. Harry turned, Ron was bent over and hopping on one foot, trying to slip on his shoe he had neglected to untie. Harry watched, torn, as Ron and Neville disappeared out of the dorm.

“Wait!” Harry whispered, slipping on his own shoes. The fox’s warning echoed in his head. It was lucky that their dorm was at the base of the tower, the older students’ dorm were higher up, so the 3 first years could slip down the stairs with little fear of waking up any other students. As they rounded to the bottom of the spiral staircase, Harry was surprised to see a flicker of light coming from the common room, and voices floating up.

As they neared the bottom of the spiral staircase, the voices became slightly clearer. Harry recognized Hermione’s voice. She seemed to be in a whispered argument with Lavender Brown. Harry could hear the argument as the boys approached.

“Lavender I’ve been sitting here working this whole time, I heard nothing at all!” Said Hermione.

“I don’t know how you could have missed it!” The other girl argued. Both of them froze when they saw the boys approaching.

“See I knew it! They must have heard as well!” Lavender said, triumphant.

“Course we did, it was bloody awful.” Ron said with bravado. Hermione turned to them.

“Did you really hear a woman call for help?” she asked, her voice skeptical.

“No, they didn’t.” Said Harry before Ron or Neville could respond. Hermione gave him a pointed look.

“Yes we did, Harry. Someone clearly needs help.” Ron said, his voice raising slightly. Harry looked up the staircase nervously, someone must have heard them. As Ron spoke, Lavender and Neville were shaking their heads emphatically. Their agreement seemed to encourage Ron.

“Well, then, we should wake Percy up!” Hermione said after a moment. Ron shook his head.

“Someone needs help, right now.” He said. Harry knew with the same certainty he had felt before that Ron was not going to let anything stop him from leaving the common room.

“Ron!” Hermione said, but Ron ignored her, and began towards the portrait hole. Lavender and Neville were close behind. Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a second before running to catch up with the other three.

Ron pushed the portrait hole open. He stepped out, followed by Neville, Harry, and Hermione. Lavender stood on the ledge, looking hesitant.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?”

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when the fat lady spoke.

“We heard someone call for help, did you hear anything?” Hermione asked. As the fat lady was opening her mouth to speak, 3 things happened simultaneously.

First, Harry’s stomach dropped, and he felt himself freeze as he realized what was happening a split moment before it did. The second was Ron taking off down the hall at a dead sprint, and the third, was Neville lurching down the hall in the opposite direction. His movements could only be described as a lurch, it was forced and jerky, and if Harry had to bet on it, he would say it was painful as well.

Harry felt his body spring into action before his mind caught up with it. He whipped his wand out in Nevilles direction.

“Petrolicious, totalus!” Harry declared, and heard a thump as Neville fell onto the floor. Harry had no time to wonder where that spell had come from. In a rush, Harry turned and ran full force into Lavender, knocking her backwards onto her butt, back into the common room. Harry ignored her protest and slammed the fat lady shut, locking it securely with a tap of his wand and a few whispered words. Without a word to Hermione, Harry took off after Ron.

Run, Harry. You must not lose him to the night!

Harry had no time to ponder the thought or its origins. Harry strained his ears, trying to make out footsteps ahead of him. Ron had a head start, but Harry knew he was faster. He just needed to catch up before there was a fork in the passage.

For what felt like an eternity, Harry ran. In the back of his head, he wondered how he had not encountered any patrolling prefects or professors. With a huff of relief, Harry realized he could hear Ron’s patterned footsteps just up ahead, and if Harry squinted, he could make out Ron’s silhouette. Harry pulled out his wand once more and pointed it in Ron’s general direction. With the same words he had spoken before, Ron seized up, and fell face forward. Harry flinched as Ron hit the ground.

Harry came to a stop in front of his friend. Ron was laying face down, arms to his side. Harry knelt next to him.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry.” Harry kept repeating in a whisper as he rolled Ron over onto his back. Harry quickly fell silent as he realized Ron was in no condition to hear Harry’s apologies. Ron’s eyes were glazed and cloudy, and Harry felt a chill run through his core.

Harry sat for a few moments, unsure of what to do, when he remembered he had left Hermione by herself. Harry stood, and pointed his wand again at Ron. Without really knowing what he was saying, a different spell was muttered, and Ron was lifted gently up in the air. With a huff, Harry started back the way they had come.

All was still in the castle, which Harry found strange. He had done his best to be quiet, but Ron had not, and they had made quite a ruckus with their running. Every shadow looked like Ms. Norris to Harry, and he felt paranoia creeping up the back of his neck. He moved quicker.

Despite his misgivings, they made it back up to the tower without running into anything or anyone.

“Harry!” Hermione whispered as he approached the fat lady. Harry gently set Ron on the ground and turned to see Hermione. Neville was still rigid, but Hermione had turned him over on his back.

“I was going to turn him back, but..” Hermione's voice trailed off. Harry had never heard Hermione so unsure of herself, she looked as freaked out as Harry felt. She nodded down to where Neville was lying, and Harry saw the same glazed eyes staring back at him.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” She said, her eyes glistening. Harry shook his head.

“Well you’d better figure it out quick!” Came the Fat Lady. Harry just sighed.

“Come on, let's go put them back and find Lavender.”

It took Harry two trips to get Neville and Ron back into the portrait hole, up the stairs, and into their beds. Harry somehow knew that the moment they crossed the threshold, whatever had placed its hold on them no longer could stay, and Harry felt it was ok to unfreeze both of them once they were safely in their beds. Immediately, their eyes closed and they fell asleep, Ron was snoring in less than a second. Harry watched them both for a moment before turning back to the staircase.

“Lavender was asleep.” Hermione said quietly as Harry approached her, seated in the common room.

“Ron and Neville too.” Harry said.

“Harry, what just happened?” Hermione asked, her expression dark. Harry shook his head.

“I have no idea ‘Mione. Something bad.”

“Do you think the Fat Lady will tell someone we were out of bed?”

“She can’t.” Hermione didn’t ask how he knew this.

“Harry, I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I do too. It's as if I know something horrible is about to happen..” Harry trailed off.

“But you can’t do anything to stop it.” Hermione finished grimly.

“I can’t get their eyes out of my head. It was like they were just gone.” Harry said after a few moments of silence.

“Harry, when they came down, they seemed certain that someone had screamed for help, but you said they hadn’t.” Hermione said with a questioning glance.

“I had woken up a few moments before they did. They just shot up, like they had heard something, but it was completely silent.”

“You just happened to be up?” Hermione questioned.

“Well, not exactly.” Harry didn’t elaborate, but Hermione seemed to sense he didn’t want to be questioned right then.

“Harry, I’ve been thinking. We’ve had no luck coming up with any ways someone could get into the castle, take Samuel Shaw, and leave without being seen or heard.” Hermione started. Harry nodded, he knew where she was going.

“You think something like this could have happened to him?” He asked. Hermione frowned.

“Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? If something can draw him out of bed, maybe he’s more vulnerable. Whatever seemed to- “ Hermione paused. “ ‘take’, Ron and Neville, it only was able to do so once they were out of bed.” Said Hermione.

“More than that, they only seemed to be taken once they were out of the tower.” Harry paused, thinking hard. “I’m not sure why, or how I knew this. But I knew that if Lavender was locked into the tower, she’d be safe. She never fully stepped out of the portrait hole now that I think of it.”

“Harry, did Dean or Seamus wake up at all?” Hermione asked thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Strange, Parvati didn’t either.” She said, humming softly. It was quiet for a moment, and Harry felt he came to a revelation the same time Hermione did.

“Whatever it was that called out to Ron, Neville, and Lavender, I think it must have only been directed to us. The Ravenclaw dorms are similar to ours, in a tower.” Harry said. “Samuel’s year, the 2nd years, live in the dorms closest to the base, the common room. I think whatever it was, It can't reach any further than the first level of dorms.”

There were a few beats of silence as Hermione processed what he just said.

“Harry, what is it that Samuel, Ron, Neville, and Lavender all have in common, that you and I don't?”

“They’re all purebloods.” Harry breathed. He looked at Hermione with something close to excitement. It seemed as if a dam had just broken, through which answers would soon come flooding through.

“I guess that leaves just a few questions now, like was Samuel the only pureblood 2nd year?” said Hermione.

“If he wasn’t, why was it just him who went missing?”

“And if he was, why him?” Hermione was biting her lip. “None of this makes sense. Whatever is going on must be some serious dark magic, why are students being taken?”

“Not students, just student. If this happened to Samuel, why hasn’t it happened to anyone else? No one else has gone missing.” Said Harry.

More silence. The fire was crackling in the firepit, mostly just embers. It was still dark outside, and no light had begun to shine in, so Harry assumed it must still be very early. He had a feeling that neither he nor Hermione would be getting much sleep that night.

“What do you think would have happened to the others if you hadn’t stopped them?” Hermione whispered.

Harry knew with a dark certainty that if he hadn’t been able to find Ron in the darkness, he would have never seen the redhead again. He didn’t have to say this, Hermione knew as well.

“We should go to McGonagall.” Hermione said, without much gusto at all.

“You don’t even believe that.” Harry said. Hermione just shook her head.

“I don’t know, something tells me that the more people know about this, the more dangerous it gets. I feel just sick at the thought of telling anyone.”

“You’re not the only one. My gut tells me that something big is about to happen, and we shouldn’t tell any professors about this.”

“What about Ron and Neville? I’m sure they’ll be terrified when they wake up, they’ll probably want to go straight to a professor.” Hermione said, biting her nails.

“I don't think so.” Harry said softly. There was more silence as the two sat together. Eventually, Hermione spoke.

“Harry, you don’t have to tell me.” Hermione started. Harry looked at her, she looked slightly fierce. “But you don’t have to fight it by yourself. I may not understand, but I can help you figure it out! I want to help, you don't have to do it alone!” Harry didn’t know what to say. He felt an overwhelming feeling of affection for his friend.

“Thanks, ‘Mione. I honestly don’t know what’s going on.” Harry paused. Hermione stared, listening intently. “I just know that I somehow know more than I should.” Said Harry after a few seconds.

“Well, if you ever need to talk, Harry, I’m always here.”

–

They had sat together for most of the night, discussing things here and there, but mostly just watching the burning embers in the fire. Morning light was starting to filter through the windows, and Hermione had begun to snore softly leaning against the armchair, when Harry decided it was probably time for them to return to their dorms before the early wakers began to stir.

He woke Hermione up and they parted ways, Hermione up one passage, and Harry through the other. Harry laid in bed for what felt like hours before he heard Dean and Seamus wake up, unable and not really wanting to fall asleep. Dean and Seamus made their usual ruckus, and Harry felt tension in his shoulders loosen when he heard Ron sit up. A small part of Harry was worried he nor Neville would wake up.

Harry watched Ron quietly, but the redhead acted as if he had woken up from a restful and average night.

“How are you doing Ron?” Harry questioned as nonchalantly as possible.

“Er, good? Why?” Ron replied, looking at Harry like he was a marble.

“Oh, no reason. I just thought I heard you coughing last night.” Harry said quickly. Ron shrugged, and went back to rummaging through his clothes.

As Harry and the other first years made their way down the corridors towards the great hall, Hermione fell into step next to him.

“Lavender acted completely normal, I don’t think she remembered anything at all.” Hermione said quietly. The others were chatting like normal, so Harry wasn’t too concerned one of them would overhear.

“Yeah, neither did Ron or Neville.” He said. They didn’t have to bring it up. Both of them knew that though it felt wrong, the idea of telling any of them what had happened felt worse. Harry just hoped Hermione was as good at keeping secrets as he was.

Chapter Text

Heavy raindrops were falling, echoing loudly across the translucent roof of Greenhouse 3. It was only just after lunch, and yet it was already darkening outside.

Halloween was quickly approaching, and a cool, damp air had settled over the castle. A cruel combination of cold winds and busy schedules meant students were spending less and less time out on the grounds in their free periods. The library was often very crowded, and empty classrooms were used by different study groups.

The days were getting shorter and the air was feeling cooler, the leaves were turning dark shades of reds and oranges, turning the forbidden forest into an explosion of color.

Harry and the other first years were in Herbology, taking notes on the characteristics of Dragonfruit. Despite it being early afternoon, there was a heavy feeling of exhaustion in the air. Students were dutifully copying down definitions in silence. Even Hermione’s enthusiasm had waned, and she hadn’t yet raised her hand to ask any sort of question.

Recently, the first years had been in greenhouse 3 for all of their Herbology lessons. Greenhouse 3 was the only greenhouse equipped with desks for inkwells and parchment rather than plants.

It wasn’t just the first years though, Professor Sprout seemed to no longer care for lesson plans. She had begun to simply read from their texts, defining new terms and occasionally getting lost in thought and staring out of the greenhouse windows until a student hesitantly raised their hand to get her attention.

Harry was sitting next to Ron, who had fallen asleep nearly 2 minutes into the lesson. Harry himself felt like he too could benefit from a nap, but he was valiantly attempting to remain focused on the lesson.

“You should wake him up.” Harry whispered to Hermione. “He’s snoring.”

Hermione shook Ron, who’s head snapped up as he looked around blearily.

“Be respectful Ron.” Hermione snapped.

“m’bad Hermione.” He said, picking up his quill and making a point to copy down the next thing Sprout wrote down.

Time marched incredibly slowly, and Harry felt his thoughts slipping away from the lesson.

It had been a few weeks since Harry and Hermione had stopped Ron and Neville from disappearing, and they still hadn’t told anyone. Harry was slightly surprised that Hermione had continued to believe that the best course of action was to keep what they knew to themselves.

I hope we’re doing the right thing. Harry thought to himself for about the thousandth time.

Harry thought back to a conversation he had had with Hermione just a few days before. Harry had been experiencing something strange. He was hesitant to describe it as a “voice inside his head”, because he knew just how crazy that sounded. Eventually though, without any other way to explain it, he had told Hermione that he was hearing things.

To her credit, Hermione took it well. She told him that she had been doing some research, and she had some theories as to what was going on with Harry.

“Nothings definitive of course, but I’m sure that there are answers somewhere, we just have to find them.” She had said. It was comforting to have someone else know, and he was glad that Hermione had the sense to keep it to herself. Hermione had brought some theories to his attention, but none of them sounded right. Still, every so often, she would find something in one of her books and bring it up to Harry.

It was getting stranger. At first, it was just weird feelings and emotions that felt foreign to Harry, as if someone else was experiencing what he was and having different reactions. It morphed into something weirder. Sometimes he would think something, and someone would answer.

The voice was familiar, and Harry recognized it as the fox that he had met in one of his (not) dreams the night that the strange occurrence with Ron and Neville happened. As the memory faded though, so did the conversation. It seemed the more Harry tried to remember about the fox, the less he could recall. The only detail that had remained clear in his head was the deep scarlet red that colored the fox.

Harry hadn’t talked to anyone about this aside from Hermione. There had been a few times, sometimes after a potions lecture, sometimes as Harry was leaving with Hermione or Draco from an open potions session, in which Harry felt a strange urge to speak with Snape. It was the same feeling he had had the first few nights he came to Hogwarts.

Despite these feelings, Harry hadn’t had another conversation with the potions master. Harry wondered if Snape would approach him. Neville had told Harry that during a lesson a couple weeks into term, Harry had gone rigid and Snape had come over to help, but the day in question was all a blur to Harry, and he couldn’t remember any details.

Harry was disrupted from his thoughts when Sprout announced that the lesson was over. Harry looked at Hermione and frowned, there was still supposed to be 20 minutes left in class.

None of the other students seemed to mind being released early, and there was a rush to pack up, as if students were worried Sprout would change her mind and keep them all for the full class.

The four first years made their way out of the greenhouse and followed their classmates up the winding stone path that led to the castle. The wind was whipping fiercely, and there was a chill in the air. As they were walking up, Hermione stopped. She was facing back down the staircase towards Hagrid's Hut.
\

“Look!” She said, pointing towards the small hut. The three boys turned to look where she was pointing. Down, a few hundred meters from where they were standing, they could see Hagrids large figure. He was walking around what seemed to be enormous pumpkins. From a distance they looked small, but next to Hagrid, they could clearly see how massive the pumpkins were getting.

“Blimey, those must be 2 meters high!” Ron said, his voice raised to be heard over the wind. Harry squinted, he could see that Hagrid was holding a small pink object.

“He must be magically enhancing them.” Said Neville.

“We should go visit!” Said Hermione. Harry agreed, the pumpkins were huge, and he had never seen anything like that.

“Aren’t we supposed to be meeting the others?” Neville asked. He had turned away from the hut in an effort to face away from the wind.

“Maybe after.” Hermione resigned. 

With that, they made their way up the path and into the castle. Ron and Hermione spent most of the walk to the library bickering about Ron falling asleep in class. Hermione felt it was disrespectful.

“Well, maybe if her class wasn’t so bloody boring!” Ron said in indignation.

“Really, Ronald? You have the attention span of a toddler.” Hermione said, tight lipped.

Harry tuned them out.

By the time they reached the library, Hermione had stopped speaking to Ron. She sat next to Millie, on the far end from where Ron had sat down. Millie grimaced knowingly.

“How was the exam?” Theo asked as Harry sat down next to him.

“She forgot to give it to us.” Said Harry.

“God, she’s barely holding it together.” Theo said with distaste.

“Yeah not like there's a good reason.” Neville said. Not quite a snap, as Harry wasn’t sure the round faced boy could even speak in a tone like that. It was as close to one as he could get though. Neville was quite protective of Sprout, probably as she was the only professor who seemed to really like Neville. He had a knack for her class.

Theo raised his arms up.

“No offense, but the other professors seem to be taking it loads better than she is.” he said. Neville didn’t reply, he wasn’t wrong.

“Let's just get started.” Hermione said, breaking the somewhat tense air.

They spent the next two hours working, but it felt halfhearted. It didn’t seem like anyone was much in the mood to be productive.
Draco had been silent most of the two hours, only speaking when it was his turn to raise or answer a question. As they were finishing, Harry spoke.

“What’s wrong Malfoy?” The blonde looked surprised, after a few seconds, he sighed.

“Something happened last night.” He started. This got the group's attention, and they all stopped packing up to face Malfoy. He sounded uncharacteristically serious.

“I was in the Slytherin common room late last night, I was trying to finish the essay for Flitwick.” He said. His eyes flitted around for a moment, as if he was making sure no one was listening in.

“It was late, well past midnight, and I heard something call out for help.”

Harry froze, he quelled his immediate reaction, which was to turn to Hermione. He stilled his face, hoping Hermione would do the same.

“What do you mean, call for help?” Ron asked slowly.

“It sounded like a woman, like she was in pain.” Malfoy said. Harry was about to speak when Theo beat him to it.

“Not this again Draco.” he said roughly. Malfoy turned to face him.

“I know what I heard, Theo.”

“How is it that neither Millie nor I heard it either time?” Theo retorted.

“Either time?” Hermione questioned. Harry turned to her, and was glad to find that her face was passively neutral.

“Draco said this happened before, a few weeks ago. That time he was in the dorm, right Draco?” Draco didn’t reply. “Well, I didn’t hear it then, either.”

“So what happened?” Neville asked.

“Well, the first time it happened, I convinced myself I dreamt it. But the second time, well..” He trailed off.

“He told Snape.” Theo finished.

“That’s not what happened.” Draco exclaimed. Harry didn’t know what to think at this revelation.

“I tried to leave the common room.” Draco said.

“Stupidly.” Millie muttered. Draco ignored her.

“I was so convinced something was wrong I didn’t think about the protective charms.” Draco finished, flushing.

“Protective charms?” Hermione and Harry said at the same time. The Slytherins looked at them strangely.

“Yeah.. the ones that alert your head of house when someone leaves the tower after curfew?” Malfoy said. Harry frowned, he had no idea that was a thing. If that was the case, why hadn’t McGonagall come storming up to the tower to demand why four students had left the tower?

“So then what?” Hermione asked.

“Well, Snape was there within a minute.” Malfoy said. “I tried to explain it to him, but he thinks I dreamt it.”

“What else could it have been, Draco? No one else heard it.” Said Millie.

“I’m surprised Snape didn’t suspend you on the spot.” Ron said. With that, the conversation was over. It seemed like Ron and Neville assumed that what Theo and Millie said was right.

“Hermione, will you help me find a book for my history essay?” Harry asked pointedly. She stood up immediately.

“Sure.”

They made their way to a secluded shelf out of earshot from the others. Despite the distance, they still spoke in whispers.

“Theo and Millie are both purebloods.” Harry said. Hermione nodded, grim.

“And their dorm isn’t a tower like the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor ones.” She said.

“Do you reckon McGonagall knew we left the tower?”

Hermione paused thoughtfully.

“I don't think so. She would’ve come to find us by now, wouldn't she have?”

“It’s strange that we were able to leave the dorm but Draco wasn’t.”

“I agree, but I don’t think we should tell Draco.” said Hermione. Harry looked at her, surprised.

“I don’t think we should either, but I want to know why you think we shouldn’t tell him.” Harry said softly. Hermione just shook her head.

“I don't know, I guess it’s just a feeling. Maybe we could tell him, but not yet.” she said.

“You sound like me.” Harry replied. She shrugged and smiled at him, not elaborating any further. Harry didn’t pry.

Harry had been experiencing relief in his head ever since his strange not-dream. He hadn’t had nearly any waves in his head, and he was glad for it. With his head clearer than ever, he wondered how his friends had never gotten annoyed at his vague and cryptic way of knowing things.

Hermione led the way back to the table. Luckily, none of them seemed to notice their absence. Theo and Ron were arguing about something or other, Draco had already left, and Millie was helping Neville neatly roll up his transfiguration essay.

As the group parted, Harry’s mind was on other things. He had no idea how or why there were no alarms set off as the Gryffindor's had left the tower that night. Not only that, but he was certain that quite a ruckus was made as he and Ron ran through the corridors. He had thought it odd at the time, but now he found it downright suspicious that they hadn’t run into any prefects or professors.

In addition, if Draco’s claims were right, then how did Shaw get out of his tower either? Did whatever draw them out also have the power to override the safety measures placed on the dorms? If so, what was different about the Slytherin protections?

Harry’s head swam with unanswered questions. He barely even registered when they made it to the common room. With a burst of insight, he thought of Hagrid.

I’m sure he has some answers about protections on the dorms. Harry thought to himself.

“Do you guys want to go visit Hagrid?” Harry asked as the four walked through the portrait hole. It wasn’t that late; if they went now they’d be back before dinner.

“Oh yes! Those pumpkins looked huge, and we were miles away.” Hermione said, excited. Ron groaned.

“It’s so cold outside today.” He complained.

With a bit of complaints from Neville because of the cold and some bickering between Hermione and Ron, the 4 first years found themselves marching back down the path towards Hagrid’s hut. It hadn’t gotten any warmer, and the wind somehow seemed more powerful.

The sun was starting to dip low towards the tree’s, and Harry quickened his pace.

It didn’t take them long. As they approached the hut, the pumpkins looming outside seemed to grow. They were enormous, almost as tall as the hut itself.

“Oh my.” Hermione breathed, looking around, she seemed in awe.

“You really like pumpkins, huh Hermione?” Neville asked, smiling too.

“They're simply fantastic.” Hermione said. Harry couldn’t tell if she was responding to Neville or if she was just talking to herself.

Harry thought the pumpkins were cool too, but he was more interested in the warmth on the other side of Hagrid's door. He raised his fist to knock and knocked on the heavy door.

They could hear scrambling on the other side of the door, and it eventually opened to reveal Hagrid, grinning broadly at the 4 first years.

…

It wasn’t until several hours after Snape had dismissed the returning members of Potioneers of Hogwarts that he realized something was wrong.

Snape had just held the first official meeting of Potioneers, though this meeting typically had no actual potions involved. The first meeting of the year was just for returning members, as the invites for the new first years hadn’t even been sent out. This meeting had two objectives, the first was informing the returners who the new first year invites were, and the second was allowing them to, for lack of a better term, “Catch up”.

Snape didn’t like thinking about it like this, it felt too nice. He certainly didn’t care enough to allow the students to catch up with each other, or at least that's what he told himself.

While the first meeting typically didn’t have potions involved, Snape had decided to change a few things up this year. His biggest change was allowing some of the older students to take a larger role in the younger students' education. This is why he allowed his oldest student, Elijah Woods, to plan a simple potion in which would be new for the 2nd and 3rd years, but review for the older students.

Woods was the only 7th year in Potioneers. He was clever, talented, and quick to judge. Snape felt the boy was better suited for blue or green robes rather than the yellow ones he wore.

So, after Snape had briefly greeted the Potioneers and informed them of the new first year picks, he had retreated back to his desk and allowed Woods to take over. This was why he hadn’t realized that something was off until he went to start working on Stomach Tonics for Madame Pomfrey.

Snape had told Woods not to bother packing away the materials he had set out for their potions, as Snape would be using the majority of them. This meant that as far as Snape was aware, the last person to have entered the supply closet was himself. Because of this, Snape felt a prick of dread when he opened the door to find pitch darkness.

“Asimov?” Snape said quietly into the darkness. There was no response from the bulb. Snape took out his wand.

“Lumos” he muttered. With the small light emanating from the tip of his wand, he stepped into the dark room. He focused on the ground, and began walking through the narrow shelves lined with potions ingredients.

After a few moments, he felt his heart sink as he saw the first piece of broken glass. He knelt down next to the smashed bulb.

He let out a breath of relief when he saw a miniscule spark, barely even there, bobbing on the stone floor. After a few muttered words, the glass shards moved to merge back into a whole bulb. He held the renewed bulb next to the small spark.

After a few moments, the light began to spread throughout the bulb.
Once Asimov was healthy again, Snape stood.

“I was worried.” was all Snape said. The bulb bobbed in response. Snape felt his sense of relief morph into anger. Which one of his dunderhead students had broken Asimov and not immediately told Woods or himself?

Before Snape could ponder this any further, he was distracted by Asimov floating back towards the ground. The bulb began to gently bump a small cardboard sleeve. Snape knelt down and drew it out. His anger drained into suspicion. The sleeve was labeled “Cardew seeds”. They were one of the most volatile ingredients Snape allowed himself to keep in the supply closet. Not only were they placed in the wrong shelf, but the sleeve was missing 4 of the 9 seeds that it previously held. His mind immediately began racing.

Snape cursed himself for not paying more attention, he couldn’t recall if any of his students had entered the supply closet. Snape knew that there was no innocent reasoning for needing Cardew Seeds, as they were only called for in dark potions. The seeds were unique enough that they wouldn’t be mistaken for anything else in addition to being labeled.

After Snape had returned to his desk, pushed his thoughts back towards his current tasks, writing out the invitation letters for the three new first years he had chosen.

…

Harry was sitting on Hagrids very squishy couch and holding a piping cup of hot chocolate. Hagrid had been quite pleased to see them, and didn’t seem to hold it against them that they hadn’t visited since the beginning of term.

“Hagrid, how are those pumpkins outside so big?” Hermione asked. Hagrid looked a little sheepish.

“Oh yer know, a bit o’ this bit o’ tha.” The half giant said, determinedly looking away from the little pink umbrella tucked in the corner. Harry smiled slightly to himself.

Hagrid had finished transferring his rock cakes from the small oven onto a tray and handed it to Harry, who passed it on to Ron immediately.

“Hagrid, we had a question about the castle’s protective charms.” Harry said once Hagrid had settled into his enormous armchair.

“Won’ be much help to yer, but I kin try.” Hagrid said, taking a gulp from his mug.

Harry felt Ron’s curious gaze, Harry went on quickly.

“It’s just that Malfoy said something about charms on the Slytherin common room. He said that if a student tries to leave after curfew then Snape hears about it.” Hagrid gave a knowing smile.

“Yer four aren plannin on snaking out eh?” He asked with a wink.

“Of course not!” Hermione said immediately. “It’s just that we were wondering if the other dorms have something similar. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too, not just us.” She added defensively. Hagrid thought for a moment.

“Ye know I don think so. At leas not yer tower.” Hagrid started. “ I don know abou’ the other houses”

Harry glanced quickly at Hermione, she was biting her fingernail.

“Wha brough’t it up?” Hagrid asked gruffly, looking between Harry and Hermione.

“Nothing, it’s just..” Harry trailed off. Hagrids smile faded.

“Yer three are thinkin’ abou tha’ poor secon’ year.” he said. Harry hid his surprise, Hagrid was more observant than Harry thought. Hermione nodded.

“It’s just that we thought that if the Slytherin’s have something like that, then wouldn’t Ravenclaw?”

“Bes’ ter put it out of yer heads, no use dwellin’ on it.” Hagrid said subdued. Silence fell over the hutt, with the only sound was the fire crackling. The lighthearted atmosphere had disappeared, and Harry felt his hands gripping his mug unconsciously.

There wasn’t much left to talk about after that. The first years stayed for a bit, declined a few more offers of rock cakes, and left soon after.

The rest of the afternoon and evening went by uneventfully, and Harry bid goodnight to his friends early.

The next morning, Harry was peeling a boiled egg and listening to Neville chatter about the newest plant he was reading about when the mail came in. Harry had never received any mail before, so he was surprised when he looked up to see Hedwig swooping towards him.

It wasn’t just Hedwig, another owl, a handsome tawny one, landed alongside Hedwig.

“Hey girl.” Harry said, giving her a piece of bacon. Harry untied a small ribbon off her leg and pulled the thin yellow letter. The other owl had landed in front of Hermione, and she pulled off an identical letter. The owls had caught Ron and Neville’s attention as well.

“What’s it say Harry?” Neville asked, his mouth full of breakfast sausage. Harry examined the letter. There was a dark green seal on it, and it was addressed to him. It looked like a completely average letter. Harry pulled the tab and opened the envelope. Hermione did the same next to him.

It was quiet for a moment after Harry and Hermione unwrapped their letters and read what was inside.

To Mr. H. Potter
You have been selected and formally invited to join Potioneers of Hogwarts.

Prof S. Snape
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Potions Master

Harry chuckled despite himself.

“Not very personal, is it.” Hermione said lightly. She passed her note over to Ron and Neville, who read it quickly. Neville made a face.

“Can you decline?” He asked, sounding like the last thing he’d rather do would be to spend more time making potions.

“Probably not if you want to live.” Ron said, grinning. Hermione just shook her head.

“It seems interesting. You’d think there would be more to the invite than just this.” She said, finding the abrupt nature of the letter amusing as well.

“I told you to stop spending so much time at open potions, the dungeonbat got the wrong message.” Ron said. Hermione just gave Ron a stern look, she didn’t like it when he insulted the professors.

“Hermione, is this your owl?” Neville asked, stroking the tawny on the head.

“No, it must be Snape’s.” She said. Neville pulled his hand away immediately. The owl hooted, and took off. Harry fed Hedwig a second piece of bacon. After she realized Harry wasn’t going to feed her a third, she nudged his ear softly and left as well.

“Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.” Hermione said, standing up. The four Gryffindor's left the great hall and nearly ran into Eliza. She was with Michal and a few other people Harry had never met before.

“Congratulations.” She said to Harry and Hermione. She elaborated before Harry could ask what she was talking about. “We’re in Potioneers. Congratulations on getting picked.”

“Thanks.” Hermione and Harry said at the same time.

“Is there anything we need to know, like when we meet? There was nothing in the letter.” Hermione asked. Eliza grinned.

“Yeah that’s Snape’s signature. He’s not very wordy.. If there's something you need to know, he’ll find a way to tell you. We won’t have the first meeting for a bit I expect.” She said.

“What a weirdo.” Ron said, sniggering. Eliza ignored him.

“We have to get to class, see ya around.” Eliza said before spinning away from them and joining her friends walking towards the front entrance.

“Snape’s her favorite teacher Ronald.” Hermine snapped as soon as they were out of earshot.

“So? That says more about her than about me anyways.” Ron said defiantly. Hermione just shook her head. The first years turned down towards the dungeons. They reached the classroom quickly.

Snape hadn’t opened the door into the classroom, so there were a few students milling about outside, including Theo, Malfoy, and Millie. They seemed to be discussing something of importance, as they had their heads together.

“I couldn’t hear!” they heard Millie exclaim as they got closer. The Slytherins looked up as Harry and the others approached.

“What happened?” Harry asked, turning to face Millie.

“It might be nothing.” She started, her brown eyes uncertain.

“Tell us anyhow.” Harry replied.

“Well, I overhead something the other night and I’m not sure what it meant.” Said Millie.

“Who?” Interrupted Ron. Hermione knocked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Sorry.” He winced.

“It was Professor Quirrell, he was talking to someone else, but I couldn’t hear the other person.” Said Millie. “He was talking about something, something that was going to happen on Halloween.”

“He didn’t say what?” Harry asked. Millie shook her head.

“No, but he made it sound like he was going to steal something.”

There was silence before Hermione spoke.

“Why would a Professor try and steal something?” Millie just shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I know what I heard.” She said firmly, turning to Malfoy.

“I just said maybe you heard wrong, Quirrell doesn’t seem like the type for thievery.” Malfoy said.

“What did he say he was going to try and steal?” Neville asked, sounding anxious.

“She didn’t hear.” Theo said before Millie could respond. “Convenient.”

Millie glared at him.

“Whoever was talking to Quirrell seemed to know what he was talking about without having to say it. Besides, I couldn’t even hear the other person.”

“Maybe there wasn’t another person.” Ron suggested.

“I’ve always said Quirrell's a bit mad.” Malfoy added.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione said. “Dumbledore obviously wouldn’t hire a professor if they weren’t mentally stable.” She said this without her usual conviction in Dumbledore’s actions. Harry tucked this piece of information away for the future, he’d ask her about it.

“He’s done stranger things.” Malfoy replied, shrugging.

“Well it doesn't matter, does it? If he’s going to steal something, someone ought to stop him.” Ron said.

“And by someone you mean not us, right?” Neville said. None of them replied right away.

“It’s not like we can exactly go to McGonagall and tell her we think Quirrell is going after something, we don’t even know what that something would be.” Hermione said logically. Millie shrugged.

“Well I didn’t say we should tell anyone, did I?”

Just then, the door to the potions classroom opened, and students began making their way inside. As Harry followed Ron in, his head was on Quirrell. Harrys biggest concern was that if Millie was right, it wasn’t just Quirrell. Someone else was behind it all, and there was no way to find out who that person is.

Harry had the strangest feeling that it wasn’t a someone, but rather a something.

Chapter Text

It was a dark and gloomy Wednesday, the day before Halloween. The more excited the castle seemed to get, the darker Harry felt. 

Halloween hadn't always been his least favorite holiday. He could still remember the day that Aunt Petunia had told him that his parents had died on Halloween night. Harry was six, and looking forward to dressing up like every other boy his age. He had asked his aunt if he would be allowed to dress up for school like Dudley did, when she turned to him. 

“You want to dress up?” she had sneered. “Celebrate the day your good-for-nothing parents died?” 

It had hit him like a brick. It certainly didn’t help to learn that it wasn’t a car accident that had occurred that night.

Harry was dreading the Halloween feast. He wouldn’t even bother to go if it wasn’t for Ron, who was violently excited for Halloween. It wasn’t just him, the whole school was crazy for it. The great hall had been decorated with Hagrid’s giant pumpkins, and the elves had been  serving pumpkin pies for dessert for the past several days. 

Even the Professor’s were getting into the Halloween spirit. McGonagall had shown them how to transfigure small items into different types of sweets, Flitwick had showed them a “spook charm” that made someone more susceptible to getting spooked, and even Filch had dyed Ms. Norris a dark black, in contrast to her usually tawny appearance. 

Harry knew that part of the reason everyone was so excited for Halloween was because there hadn’t been anything in the castle to celebrate for the past few weeks. The thick misery in the air hadn’t lifted, and everyone was looking for something to change. 

Harry hadn’t spoken to anyone about his feelings towards Halloween, but he was certain Hermione had begun to pick up on his mood. Harry tried valiantly to be optimistic for his friends, but he couldn’t help the thoughts in his head. 

It was around this time that Harry usually began to have dreams about the attack. Nightmares of bright green flashes and high pitch laughter usually picked up around October, but this year Harry hadn’t had a single one. 

I guess there’s something to be grateful about. Harry thought to himself, rather bitterly. 

He had been picking at his food most of dinner. He tried to show interest in Ron’s story about meeting what he thought had been a real, actual Hag, but his heart wasn’t in it. He just wanted to sleep, really. 

Unfortunately, he had promised Hermione that he would go with her to open potions. There was a complex potion she had read about and wanted to try. It required three people, and Harry was the only one willing alongside Draco, so he didn’t want to back out. When Hermione had asked, they had also found out that Draco had been invited to join  Potioneer’s as well, but was oddly silent about what he knew about it when Hermione and Harry asked. 

Hermione noticed Harry’s mood. 

“Harry, we can try my potion another day- “  She started. 

“It’s ok, ‘mione. I was actually looking forward to it.” Harry lied, hoping he sounded convincing. Hermione didn’t look sure, but accepted his response. 

“Why don’t you try another night, let's play gobstones!” Ron said with gusto. Harry just gave a tight smile. He’d rather go to potions than have to force a smile throughout an extremely long game of Gobstones. 

So a few minutes later, Harry and Hermione bid farewell to Ron and Neville, who both looked sickeningly content in Harry’s opinion. 

“Should we wait for Malfoy or meet him there?” Hermione asked, to which Harry just shrugged.  

Before Hermione could comment on her dislike of shrugs, the blonde Slytherin appeared carrying a serving of pumpkin pie. 

“Hello” was all he said as he began marching down the corridors that led to the dungeons. Hermione followed, and Harry heaved a sigh. He was thinking about his comfortable bed in Gryffindor tower. 

He took another breath and pushed his thoughts away, he needed to focus if he was going to help Hermione with whatever potion she had set her mind to. 

He jogged a bit to catch up with Hermione and Malfoy, who were discussing the potion Hermione had planned for them. 

“I’ve never heard of it, what does it do?” Malfoy was asking. 

“It’s used in animal emporiums, mostly for owls. It helps an owl regain its directionality after it’s been either physically or magically confused.” 

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Malfoy grumbled, forking a mouthful of pumpkin pie into his mouth. 

“It’s quite difficult, but I don’t think it’s nearly as complicated as some of the other potions I’ve read about. At least, I don’t think Professor Snape will stop us from making it.” 

“Attempt to make it.” Malfoy responded, eyes on a piece of paper he was clutching in the same hand he used for his fork. 

“What’s that?” Harry asked. 

“Oh, those are the instructions for the potion! You can read it after Draco’s done with it.” Hermione said, glancing over. 

After a few moments, Malfoy handed the piece of paper over. Harry skimmed it disinterestedly. 

“You don’t think it will be too much?” Hermione asked delicately, trying and failing to sound casual. Harry saw Malfoy’s eyebrows raise slightly. 

“Course not.” Harry muttered, avoiding both of their eyes. 

They walked further into the dungeons, and it was only a few corridors away from the entrance to the potions lab that Harry started to feel something behind his eyes. He slowed down unconsciously, and brought his hands up to his eyes to rub them vigorously. 

This did nothing helpful of course, and instead made him extremely dizzy, and Harry felt himself swaying on the spot. 

It felt like something was pulling his consciousness out of his body. If it hadn’t hurt so much, Harry would have pondered the feeling; it was the strangest thing he had ever felt. 

It was around then that Malfoy and Hermione noticed Harry had stopped walking, and turned to face him. 

“Harry?” Hermione's voice was immediately concerned. She hurried back to him, but Harry didn’t notice. 

He hadn’t even heard her at all. It sounded as if he was standing underneath a train, the roaring so loud he couldn’t hear someone if they were yelling right next to him. 

The noise had come so suddenly and it only confused him more. Harry dropped down onto a knee, he felt dangerously close to toppling over. 

He started to feel sick. 

So loud.  

This was Harry’s last thoughts as he was finally pulled away from his body. His head dipped down to the ground. 

Harry was gone, and he had no idea where he was. 

..

Severus Snape looked up sharply when someone came bursting into his lab. 

Snape had  been working in silence. Poppy had been out of Flu Remidation for some time, and he had put it off. As the cold season was upon them, she had reminded him once again to begin the stockpile. It was boring work, and required merely a fourth of his attention. Still, he didn’t trust anyone else to make it, so there he was. 

He wasn’t the only one. Two of his Potioneers were working as well. Michal Heinz and 3rd year Blair Gray, who had come in separately to work on projects of their own. All this meant was that he wasn’t the only one startled out of a silent peace when Draco Malfoy came sprinting into the room. 

“Professor, you have to come now!” The blonde said, breathing heavily. 

“Calm yourself.” Snape demanded, moving from his perch on his stool towards the boy. “What is the reason of - “ 

The boy cut him off

“It’s Harry, sir, he’s collapsed, or fainted, I don't know, you have to come!” Said the boy in short bursts. Snape felt a pit in his stomach sink. 

“Show me.” Snape said. With this, the blonde turned on his heels and ran out into the corridor. 

Malfoy led Snape in the direction of the main entrance. It wasn’t far before Snape saw Granger kneeling down over a small figure. 

Snape knelt quickly down by the girl's side. Potter was in a kneeling position, with his head down to the floor. Snape felt the boy’s pulse before addressing Granger. 

“Miss Granger, go to my lab and wait.” Snape said. The girl looked indignant. “No arguments. Heinz, take these two back into my lab and wait. Do not leave until I return.” Snape said, addressing the 5th year who had followed him out. 

The boy nodded, and put his hand on Granger's shoulder. Snape turned his attention back towards Potter. He was shaking, but not as if he were cold. 

He heard the three students' footsteps fade out. Seemingly as soon as they had turned the corner, Potter’s head came up. Once again, Snape found himself looking into dark pits, pupils nowhere to be found. 

“Listen closely.” Potter rasped. 

..

This time it was different, Harry didn’t feel himself fading back into consciousness. There was no gradual awareness to sweep over him. Instead, it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown onto his face. He sat up suddenly. 

It took a few moments of panic to realize where he was, and that there was someone propping him up. 

“Professor?” Harry said in confusion. He coughed, his voice sounded scratchy and dry. 

“Are you in any pain?” Came the man's response. Harry suddenly felt claustrophobic. As if he could read Harry’s mind, Snape drew back, and came to a kneel next to him. Before Harry could say no or shake his head, Snape spoke again. “Do not lie.” 

After a pause, Harry nodded. His head was, in fact, causing him a lot of pain. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Snape said, his voice quiet as he pulled out a small vial from his robes. He uncorked the top and handed it to Harry. 

“I remember leaving dinner.. “ Harry trailed off. He took a sniff of the potion, it smelled faintly of rubber elastic gloves. 

“It will help with your head.” Snape said.

Harry tipped his head back and drank the whole vial in one gulp. It tasted worse than it smelled. He made a face, but he could feel immediate release in the tension between his temples. Snape stood up, and offered a hand to help Harry to his feet. Harry took it hesitantly. 

“What happened Professor?” Harry asked hesitantly. 

“In due time, Potter. For now, come with me.” Snape said, turning down the corridor. It took a few moments for Harry to get his bearings, but he realized Snape was taking him further into the dungeons, towards his lab. 

“Where are Hermione and Draco?” Harry asked, jogging a step to keep up with the man. 

“In my lab.” Said Snape. Harry followed Snape until they reached the the door. 

As they entered, Hermione, Draco, Michal, and another student Harry did not recognize stood up. Harry flinched as they all spoke at once. Hermione’s voice raising above the others. 

“Harry, you're all right!” she said, rushing over. The voices together had startled Harry and he began to feel dizzy again. Before Hermione could pounce on him and probably tip him over, Snape stopped her. 

“He is unbalanced, Miss Granger.” Said the man. Hermione blushed a bright pink. 

“Sorry Harry, we were just so nervous.”

“ s’all right ‘mione.” said Harry. He was starting to feel better. His headache was mostly gone, and he was regaining his balance quickly. 

“What  happened Professor?” Asked Michal. Snape didn’t respond, but he instead turned back to Harry. 

“Do you feel alright?” Snape asked. Harry nodded. Snape eyed him. 

“Honest,” Harry said. Snape’s dark eyes searched him for a bit longer before he turned away. 

“I have to leave, when I return, I will explain as I can.” Snape said, before turning and whisking away. Harry just blinked. It seemed the man had a talent for making a quick exit. 

Harry felt much better. In fact, he felt better than he had all day. It was like something had lifted off of his back. 

There were a few moments of silence after Snape left, but the quiet was broken when Malfoy spoke.

“What happened Potter?” 

Harry sat down at one of the desk benches. The others followed suit. Harry still had yet to find out who the silver haired boy was. He looked older than Harry, but not by much. 

Hermione sat down to Harry’s left, looking concerned. She was eying Harry closely, as if she was worried he’d tumble over at a moment's notice. Draco sat down to Harry’s right. 

“I’m not sure what happened. I don’t remember anything after we left the great hall.” 

“Well it must have been important.” Michal said gravely. “I’ve never seen Professor Snape look so worried.” 

The silver-haired boy spoke up. “What happened?” He asked. “My name is Blair by the way. Blair Gray. I was working here with Michal when Malfoy came in.” 

“We were walking down from dinner when Potter went still and collapsed.” Draco explained.

Hermione still hadn’t said anything. She was chewing her lip, and Harry knew that she wanted to talk to him privately. 

“What’s wrong Hermione?” Harry asked. She looked startled for a moment. 

“Well, it’s just that this isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?” She said after a bit of hesitation. Harry shook his head. 

“No, I suppose it isn’t.” 

“When I asked Neville about what happened that day in potions, he said he couldn’t remember.” Said Hermione. She was speaking just to Harry now. By the looks on the other three boy’s faces, they had no idea what they were talking about. 

“What happened in potions?” Malfoy asked, but Hermione didn’t answer. 

“It’s just that I keep getting this peculiar feeling that whatever’s happening throughout the castle is hiding in plain sight.” she said, sounding cryptic. 

Harry mulled this over for a bit in his mind before turning to Malfoy. 

“Draco, you weren’t the only one who heard that woman scream a few weeks ago. Ron and Neville heard it as well.”   

At this, Harry noticed Gray sit up straighter. Malfoy also looked surprised. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t they say anything? Weasely looked about ready to call me mentally insane when I brought it up!” Malfoy said in indignation. 

“They don’t remember it. When they woke up the next day, it’s like they never heard a thing.”  there was a pause. 

“It was like that with Theo too. He woke up same as I did, but when I brought it up in the morning, he thought I was crazy.” Malfoy revealed. 

“It’s like something is making them forget.” Hermione said. There was a pause of silence.

“You guys aren’t the only ones who’ve noticed.” Said Blair Gray. “I have too. And I’ve been doing some research.” Said the boy. 

“You have?” Michal asked, looking at Gray in surprise. 

“Yeah. I found something too. I just haven't told anyone because…, well, I thought I was being paranoid is all.” He said, looking at his hands. 

“Have you found anything about failing memories?” Harry asked. “Besides the obvious I mean. I don’t think there’s someone going around casting obliviates to all the students in the castle, I think it’s darker than that.”

 Blair nodded. “Have you guys ever heard of Mnemosyne?” 

“Ne moss a knee?” Draco asked. 

“No, Mnemosyne. She’s a Greek goddess.” Blair explained. 

“The Greek goddess of Memory. She’s one of the 12 titans, mother of nine muses.” Michal said. Blair nodded his head. 

“ I found a mention of her in one of the books we’re reading in History of Magic.” Blair started.      “The only mention of her name was when the book was talking about a muggle massacre in 1834, which killed almost 40 people in London. The book said the wizards responsible used a type of dark magic that manipulated the psyche’s of the muggles, causing them all to kill themselves.” 

“I’ve heard of that.” Hermione said, interrupting. “We learned about it in muggle primary school, there’s even a day of mourning for the people who died. According to muggles, there was a mass chemical leak, which made people go crazy and throw themselves off bridges, or hang themselves.” She said, her voice echoing slightly off the cold stone walls of the lab. 

Harry felt himself shiver. He didn’t like all this talk, and he had a feeling they were heading down even creepier roads. 

“The muggles were partially right, but they didn’t realize there were people behind the attack.” Blair said, seemingly unperturbed by her interruption. “No arrests by muggles or the ministry were ever made, and it eventually faded into history, but I don’t think whoever they were disappeared, I think they just got better.” He finished. 

“My father told me if I ever experience a failing memory, I need to tell him straight away. All of the old wizarding families do this.” Malfoy said. “I don’t know if it’s connected, it seems too much of a coincidence for it to not be though.” 

No one spoke for a few moments. Harry had a sudden feeling that someone knew something more than they were letting on. He glanced around. Hermione was biting the fingernail on her thumb, Malfoy had his head in his arms, and Blair was tapping a soft rhythm on the wooden table. When Harry turned to Michal, the older boy was already staring intensely at Harry. Before Harry could speak, Michal opened his mouth. 

“The followers of Mnemosyne are still alive and well. It was never just a legend.” Said Michal. This caught all of their attention, and Harry felt his breathing hitch at Michal’s words. 

“My uncle, Harris Heinz, was murdered by them when I was 11.” 

Hermione gasped. 

“How do you know it had anything to do with Mnemosyne?” Blair asked, his voice awed. 

“We didn’t.” He said. “Well, not for a long while at least.” He paused, looking around at the younger kids. “The followers of Mnemosyne call themselves the Mnemonics, and they’re just as dangerous as they were in 1837. They’re pretty much unknown as of today, the last wizarding war made them nearly obsolete.” 

“Why have I never heard of this?” Malfoy asked, voicing a thought that Harry had had as well. Michal looked torn, as if he was debating whether or not he should reveal what he knew. Eventually, he sighed. 

“It’s not common knowledge. In fact, there’ve been mass cover ups throughout the last century that are all connected to the Mnemonics. The only reason I know any of this is because of my mother, Alyssa Heinz. She works for the ministry, and was a part of a branch of Aurors dedicated to resisting Mnemonic magic.” He said at last. 

“I think I’ve heard of them.” Malfoy said abruptly. “I only ever heard my father mention it once, when the Chief Auror came around the Manor. If I remember, they call them “the forgottens?” Michal nodded before speaking again.  

“The only way to counter Mnemonic magic is to become “Forgotten” in a sense. Erase yourself from the memories of those around you. This is why The Forgotten Aurors are never spoken of or mentioned, even though they take down some of the most dangerous dark wizards to ever terrorize Europe.” 

“This is all interesting, but how do we know any of this has anything to do with what’s happening here, at the castle?” Hermione asked. None of them said anything. Harry was mulling this over when he suddenly realized something. 

“Something’s changing.” Harry said. Everyone turned to him in confusion. 

“What does that mean?” asked Malfoy.

“I mean, that somethings changing. Everything that’s happened, all of this that we’re talking about, it all goes back to one thing, Samuel Shaw. He was the first person who realized something was wrong.” Said Harry. He looked around, Hermione seemed to be catching on. 

“He heard the call for help too.” Said Hermione slowly. “He was the first one to hear it, but it wasn’t on purpose. Something wasn’t luring him out, he was hearing something he wasn’t meant to hear.” 

“When he left, something took him. Whatever it was that caused the woman to scream for help also took Shaw.” Said Harry. “It’s also why no one seemed to see him leave. If he had told anyone, or if anyone had seen him leave, they wouldn’t remember it the next day.” 

Malfoy was pale. “So if I had left the common room that night, would I have gone missing?” 

No one responded to him. Eventually, Blair spoke. 

“I still don’t understand. I get that whatever or whoever took Shaw must be manipulating memories, but what tells you something is changing?” he asked, looking at Harry.

“Because the next time it happened, it wasn’t just Shaw who heard. It was Neville, Ron, Draco, Theo, and probably other people too. Whatever used to slip through the walls unnoticed before, is becoming visible. Something about the mnemonic magic is weakening.”  Said Harry, looking at Hermione. She was nodding. 

“What does this even mean, then? I mean, do we tell someone? Snape? Dumbledore?” Asked Blair, his eyes darting around. 

“No.” Said Michal firmly. Harry turned to look at the 5th year. He looked a bit embarrassed at having reacted so strongly. 

“It’s just that, the more people know, the more dangerous Mnemonics becomes. If we tell a professor, they’ll forget within the hour.” 

“Even Dumbledore?” Hermione asked skeptically. 

“Yes, even him. Only certain ancient bloodlines have resistance to Mnemonics. Anyone else is completely susceptible. I don’t even think Dumbledore knows about Mnemonics at all.” 

It was at this moment, right before Draco asked Michal another question about Mnemonics, in which Harry was abruptly pulled out of himself once more. 

Harry wasn’t in the dungeon anymore. He was in the great hall. The hall was decorated brilliantly for Halloween, and the room was packed. All of the students and teachers converged for the Halloween feast. It was odd though, despite the large amount of people, Harry couldn’t hear a thing. There was movement, students moving about and chairs scraping, but none of it Harry could hear. 

Even stranger still, Harry couldn’t see anyone’s faces. Any time he focused on any one person, there was just a blurred smudge where their face was supposed to be. Despite the issue of no faces, Harry could still identify several people. A faceless Dumbledore was sitting at the head of the teachers table as usual, and Hary could pick out a Snape-ish looking figure seated next to a faceless McGonagall. 

As Harry was looking around and making sense of what was going on, he turned as a man came bursting through the front halls. It was Quirrell. Strangely, his face was crystal clear, and wore a terrified look. He came running up to where Dumbledore was sitting, and with the whole school listening, clearly spoke. 

“Troll… Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know.” Before promptly passing out. There was immediate uproar, which Harry could actually hear. Students talking and prefects yelling for silence. Harry turned to Dumbledore, who was rising in his seat, clearly about to address the students, when Harry was gone again. 

This time, Harry was on a stairwell. A quick assessment of the surrounding classrooms and paintings showed Harry that he was standing on a landing leading to a corridor which held only two doors. One, to the stairwell, and the other, to the out of bounds third floor corridor. 

Harry was standing on a step about halfway up the stairwell, and he was peering over the edge of the railing. A stairwell or two below, he could see the bustling of students. Prefects were leading students back to their dorms, and the air of panic in the air in addition to the unusually loud roar of students made Harry aware that he was still in the same day, and he was witnessing students running to their houses. 

Suddenly, Harry could clearly see a figure making his way through the crowd. He was wearing a dark cloak, but Harry knew with certainty that this figure was Professor Quirrel. The same man who had supposedly fainted in the great hall. Harry watched with curiosity as Quirrel turned up the stairwell towards Harry. 

The man was walking in a way Harry had never seen before. Quirrel had always seemed a bit off, scared, timid, walking like he had something to hide from. The Quirrel here now seemed quite the opposite. He was walking with a purpose, and there was no denying the direction Quirrel was now taking, towards the third floor corridor. 

Harry watched with interest as Quirrel walked right past Harry and made his way towards the entrance to the corridor. As he approached, Harry heard a weird hissing noise that faded as Quirrel progressed further away from Harry. 

Before Harry could ponder this much more, he was back in the dungeon. In a blink, he had returned. 

Harry looked around. After a dazed moment, Harry realized no one had noticed what had happened. Stranger yet, it didn’t seem like any time had passed. 

“When do you think Snape is going to return?” Asked Hermione. Before anyone spoke, Harry cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him again. Harry opened his mouth to speak when he suddenly changed his mind. 

“I was just going to say I don’t think he’s coming back for a bit.” 

The others seemed to accept what he said, and began talking again. Harry looked around at the others. He suddenly wondered how Blair and Michal seemed to know so much about the Mnemonics. It was quite convenient, wasn't it? What were the chances that he, Hermione, and Draco had just stumbled across what might be the only two students in the castle who had potential answers?

Before he could ponder this thought any longer, he heard a voice in his ear. 

“ You can trust them. ” said what Harry assumed was the foxes voice. He resisted the urge to whip around and see if someone had just whispered in his ear, and instead shuddered. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that. 

“Somethings going to happen tomorrow night, at the feast.” Harry said, interrupting Hermione reprimanding Draco for something or other.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, at the same time Michal had asked “How do you know?”

“It’s just a feeling.” Harry said. Hermione turned to Michal.

“His ‘feelings’ are always right.” She added. 

“Well what’s going to happen then?” asked Blair. 

“A troll.” 

“A what ?” 

“A troll, in the dungeons. I’m pretty sure it’s a distraction though. I think one of the professor’s is up to something. It might even have a connection to what we just talked about.” Harry said. He figured that the only reason the Fox had shown him Quirrell's strange activity at the exact moment he had was because it had something to do with the Mnemonics.  

“Which professor?” Michal asked suddenly. Harry shrugged non committedly. Sure, the fox said Michal and Blair were trustworthy, but Harry still wanted to discuss more privately with Hermione and Draco before revealing what he knew. 

“I’m not sure, but I’m certain it’s going to happen.” 

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Snape returning from wherever he had disappeared to. 

Snape had an unreadable expression on his face, but Harry could tell that something was very wrong. 

“Everyone back to your houses at once.” He said, his voice quiet yet demanding. His expression quelled any of the student’s desire to ask him questions, and they all stood up immediately. 

“Not you, Mr. Potter.” He added. Harry stopped moving towards the door. Hermione gave him a strange look, it was evident on her face that the last thing she wanted to do was leave him alone. Harry just nodded at her that it was ok. She didn’t look happy, but she followed Draco out of the room anyhow. 

Harry turned back around. Snape’s stern expression drained into one more alike to exhaustion than anything else once Michal had shut the door. Harry cautiously followed the potions master towards the back of the lab and to his desk. Snape sat down in his chair and rubbed the bridge between his nose. Harry felt deep within him that the last thing he should do is inquire about where Snape had gone. 

Harry hesitated, he was unsure whether he should sit down across from Snape or continue standing. 

“You look awful.” Said Snape. 

This was just about the last thing he thought he’d ever hear from the man, but something was different. This wasn’t the same Snape who taught him potions and doled out detentions. He seemed almost as tired as Harry felt. 

“Er, you don’t look great yourself  Professor.” Much to his surprise, Snape huffed. 

Did he just laugh? Harry never thought he’d see this day. 

“Sit, before you tip over and make this intolerable day even worse.” Snape finally said. Harry hesitated, but sat down across from his professor. 

Snape was watching Harry intently. 

“How often does Spharrow speak to you?” The man asked suddenly. 

“How often does who speak to me?” 

“The fox.” Said Snape. 

“Er, I dunno. Pretty often I guess.” started Harry. His brain caught up after a moment.  “Hang on- Spharrow? How do you know-” Harry’s voice had begun to raise before Snape cut him off.

“Do you recall the day in potions when you were,” He paused, searching for the right word, “when you lost consciousness.” he finished, eyes still focused on Harry. 

“Not really, I mean, I remember Neville telling me about what happened, that's about all though.” Harry said. Snape sighed. 

“How long have you been experiencing these… intrusions? The visions, the headaches, the blackouts? Do not lie to me.” 

Harry swallowed. His initial reaction was to brush it off, insist he was fine, but something about Snape’s expression made Harry pause. 

“Since the start of term.” Harry admitted quietly. “Maybe a bit before.” Snape shut his eyes, as if he was bracing himself against Harry’s words. 

“And you thought it prudent to keep this to yourself?” Snape asked. 

“I didn’t know what to say.” Harry said, voice rising. “Nobody would listen, no one ever does.” 

“Do you really believe that?”

“I know it!” Harry said, emotions bubbling out. He felt memories tugging at his head, but he refused to let them in.

It was an intensely strange feeling. It was as if something had shut his emotions away, let them fester, and then released them. Harry felt tears begin to form in his eyelids. 

He was scared, but why? When had the fear begun to form? He hadn’t noticed until now. Harry was having a hard time catching his breath.

 Of course, the first time Harry lost it, it had to be in front of Snape. He kept his gaze in his lap, refusing to look up at the Potions master. Harry was sure the man was sneering. 

Harry felt like he was suffocating. He began taking in big heaves of breath, but none of it seemed to be reaching his brain. He was so unfocused, that he hadn’t realized Snape had moved. 

Harry was startled when he realized Snape had gotten up and was now crouching in front of Harry’s chair. He held in one hand a dark green handkerchief. 

“You are not dying, Mr. Potter.” he started, quiet but firm. “This is just panic. Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth.” 

Harry heard the words clearly enough, but he couldn’t form thoughts properly, and the only one circulating his mind was ‘why does he even care?’

Harry took the cloth and began scrubbing his eyes, pressing hard enough to see bright colors behind his eyelids. 

It took a couple of minutes, but Harry’s breath began to slow down. Snape had stayed next to him the whole time, occasionally reminding him that he was alright. 

Snape had returned to his seat by the time Harry was completely recovered. Now that he could think again, he was humiliated. Why did this have to happen in front of Snape?

“I am listening, Harry.” Said Snape, breaking the silence. “And I am not no-one.” Harry was surprised to hear Snape call him by his first name. It was comforting, which was an equally confusing emotion. 

Snape continued to surprise him. “I would also like to- apologize.” He said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I was aware that something was going on, but thought it best to… no matter. I should have ensured your continued health.” He finished. Harry was so taken aback. He had never had an adult apologize to him before. 

“It’s alright.” Harry said, uncertain. Silence fell over the room. Snape looked as close to embarrassed as Harry felt the man could look. Harry had a feeling the man never dealt with a crying child so nicely as he just did. 

“Come to me.” Snape began. “If anything else like this occurs. I will listen.” He said. The words sounded sincere enough to Harry. 

Harry nodded, but didn’t trust himself to speak. 

“Are you well enough to return to your house?” Snape asked. Harry nodded again. “You’re dismissed. Remember what I’ve said.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Said Harry. It came out quiet, barely a whisper. Snape just watched. Harry turned to grab his bag and leave. As he was approaching the door, he heard Snape speak. 

“Do not find a way to break your neck or something similar on your trip back.” 

Harry felt a small smile form on his lips, but didn’t turn around. 

“I won’t Professor.” 

Harry could count on one hand the number of people he felt cared about him. Severus Snape was the last person he ever thought would be added to the list. 

Chapter Text

“Listen closely.” 

Snape kept his eyes fixed on the boy. His dark eyes  were unnerving, but Snape refused to avert his gaze. 

“You must fortify your minds, Severus. Protect your memories.” 

“So the Headmaster is wrong, then? It’s not the work of the Dark Lord.” Snape mused softly, mostly to himself. 

“Albus Dumbledore will remain ignorant.” Came the raspy response. “He will find a body within the hour. Pulled from the lake.” 

Snape was startled to hear this, warning bells started ringing in his head. 

“Is it Samuel Shaw?” He breathed. 

“No. Albus will believe it is.” 

“Is the boy still alive?” 

“No. Samuel Shaw’s corpse has been rotting for weeks.” 

Severus shut his eyes hard. He had barely known the boy, he was an average student at best, hardly someone who caught Snape’s attention. Still, it had been the first death at Hogwarts while Snape worked as a professor, and it shook him. 

“Who is it, then? Who is the body Albus will pull from the lake?” 

“It will not be Albus who finds the boy.” 

Snape paused, trying to understand what he had just been told. 

“You should leave now. He will summon you as you near.” 

Snape was surprised at the sudden end to the conversation. He wanted to tell, whatever this was, to wait. He wanted more answers. He blurted the first question that came to his mind. 

“What do I call you?” 

Snape wasn’t positive, but he felt that whatever this was had been expecting his question. 

“Spharrow. Like the bird, but with an extra letter. Now, do not let the boy fall, I would like my host to remain as healthy as possible, and he is quite prone to accidents.” 

...

Snape was turning the conversation over in his mind, wondering what the cryptic advice “Spharrow” had given him truly meant. He had left Potter with Heinz, and hoped the older boy would have the sense to keep the younger students from wandering. 

Snape was striding quickly through the dungeons, towards the main entrance. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. 

Spharrow had never told him who the body belonged to, or who pulled it out. Snape felt uneasy, he had a feeling that this night was more important than what it seemed on the surface. 

The castle was at the odd time of night in which curfew hadn’t yet struck, yet few students roamed the halls. With no evening classes in session this term and supper having been over an hour ago, there was no reason for students to be wandering about in the halls. This meant that it was completely empty as Snape made his way through the castle. 

To his slight surprise, Minerva appeared from a doorway, and fell into step next to him. She looked grim, her lips pursed together in a tight line. 

“You’ve been summoned too.” She said mutely. Snape didn’t respond. They walked briskly through the entrance hall, and Snape watched as Minerva spelled open the large doors. 

As the castle dimmed behind them, they approached the pitch black lake. 

A thick darkness enveloped the pair as they walked down the lawn. There was neither moon nor stars to light their way. The only light was from the castle, which became less and less as they pulled further away.  

Despite the visibility, Snape could spot a small crowd near the edge of the lake. He couldn’t make out much from their silhouettes, but he could count at least five figures in the darkness. 

Snape came to a halt next to the tallest one. Albus Dumbledore was gazing out into the dark lake, Snape could tell the man's mind was miles away. 

“What happened?” He heard Minerva ask tightly to a shorter figure, which turned out to be Flitwick. 

“It’s the boy.” Whispered Flitwick hoarsely. 

Snape turned to face the others. To his surprise, he found Eliza Thatchers standing in between Sprout and Quirrell, silent tears streaked down her face. 

“With me, Miss Thatchers.” Snape said, recovering quickly. He quelled his immediate reaction to demand why none of the other Professors had taken the girl back into the castle. 

He could sense that the girl was in a state of shock. 

Circes curses. He thought to himself. He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her away from the others. 

“Professor, I- I,” She stammered. 

“Hush child.” Snape said, not unkindly. 

He could hear that the girl was about two breaths away from a full breakdown, so he stopped moving her towards the castle. He pulled a vial from his pocket, thankful he had grabbed more than Potter needed, and offered it to her in the darkness. 

She accepted it without much hesitation. She uncorked the top and lifted it to her nose, sniffling all the while. 

“Calming drought.” she hiccuped, before tipping her head back and drinking the entire thing. He felt a surprising pang of pride that she had identified the potion from odor alone. 

 After a few moments, her breathing evened out. Once Snape was satisfied she wouldn’t begin crying at the drop of a hat, he took his hand from her shoulder. 

“Follow.” He said, making his way back up towards the castle. She did, and they walked in silence towards the entrance. 

“Professor, It’s not him.” Said the girl as they stepped into the front hall. He turned to her. In the light, he could see that she looked even worse than she had sounded. 

“Elaborate.” 

“I mean it’s not him, it’s not Samuel.” 

“What made you think I believed it was?” He said, keeping his voice low despite the deserted entryway. 

“That’s what Professor Dumbledore said when he showed up.” She paused and took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. “But it’s not him. I’m certain of it.” 

He didn’t question her, after all, he also knew it wasn’t Shaw with less than explainable reasons. 

“Listen to me. You must not speak of this to anyone, if you have questions, come to me.”

She nodded. 

“Why were you out there to begin with Miss Thatchers?” 

“I was helping Professor Sprout with her Ringby Beans. It got late.” She didn’t expand, and Snape didn’t push it. 

“Are you well enough to return to your dorm?” She nodded. As she was turning away towards the corridor leading up to Ravenclaw tower, Snape added “Mister Heinz is in my lab. There are some younger students there as well, however.” The girl just nodded, and continued. 

Snape returned to the lake. He had half a mind to scold the other Professors once more, but he could see that it would do no good. 

Sprout was shaking and sobbing. Snape had found it odd at first; the Herbology Professor had taken Shaw’s disappearance especially hard. He heard Flitwick saying something about Shaw’s talent in Herbology, and Snape chalked it up to that. 

None of the others, even Minerva, looked fit to be making decisions. Dumbledore was still staring, frozen, across the lake. 

“Filius, take Pomona back to the castle, bring her to Poppy.” Snape said, speaking to the shorter man. Flitwick nodded, and put his arm around the larger woman, leading her away from the lake. 

“Quirrell, fetch Hagrid. The lake must be searched.” 

“Would it not, be b-b-better if I remain h-here?” The man stammered, eyes flitting around their dark surroundings nervously. 

“Go.” With that, the trembling man left as well. 

Snape moved forward, towards the unrecognizable corpse and where Dumbledore and Minerva now stood. 

“What will you do, Albus?” Minerva asked in the darkness. 

“I will visit Shaw’s parents tonight, but we will wait to inform the students.” the man said, his voice soft and forlorn. 

“Why, Headmaster?” 

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Minerva. The students deserve a break almost as much as the professors do. We will proceed as usual, and I will announce Shaw’s death when I feel the time is right.” 

Silence stretched between the three wizards for a long time. Snape finally spoke. 

“Albus, do you believe there is a killer in our midst?” The bearded man heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. 

“Severus I have known you since before you came to Hogwarts as a first year. I trust you with my life. In all of my years of considering you a friend, I have never once known you to ask questions you know the answer to.” 

…..

Harry awoke on Halloween morning to an enthusiastic  Ron, who was jumping around and encouraging his housemates to get ready faster. With Halloween being on a Saturday, the school was hosting some events for the students that they normally couldn’t if it had been a school day. 

The first of these activities, and the one Ron was most excited for at the moment, was breakfast. 

With some more encouragement from Ron, eventually the first year Gryffindors were on their way down to the great hall. 

Harry’s mood had lifted slightly after his conversation with Snape the previous night, but his heart was still heavy. Today was the day his parents had died, the day he had become an orphan. He had celebrated his lack of Halloween related nightmares too soon, as he had a terrible dream the previous night. 

It seemed that every time he had the dream it became more vivid. Bright green flashes blinding him, cruel, high pitch laughter that made his skin curl, and his little fingers reaching for his mothers lifeless body. 

He had always thought it odd he recalled so much of that night, he was, after all, only 15 months old at the time. 

The wizarding world celebrated Halloween not just as the traditional holiday, but also the day Voldemort had been vanquished. This night didn’t just mark his parents death, but the end of a war. For those who had lived for so long in fear, who grieved loved ones murdered in cold blood, this day was one to celebrate. 

Harry couldn't help but be bitter. Sure, the war had ended, but how was it that people so easily forgot the sacrifice made that night to make it happen? As Harry walked the halls in the days leading up to Halloween, there was not a single mention of the ultimate sacrifice that had been made that night 10 years previous. 

Harry’s bitterness towards the holiday is what he chalked up his feeling of foreboding to. He had woken up with a similar feeling as the day Samuel Shaw had gone missing, something deep in his gut that told him something was wrong. Harry did his best to ignore it. 

Harry also hadn’t forgotten his vision of what would happen that very night. He hadn’t been able to discuss it with Hermione, and by the time he got back from Snape’s office the previous night, Ron and Neville were both asleep. 

As the Gryffindors made their way down to breakfast, Hermione pulled back away from Neville so she could walk with Harry. 

“How are you feeling Harry?” She asked cautiously. 

“I’m ok.” 

“What was it that Snape wanted to talk to you for?” Harry could tell what her underlying question really was. 

“He didn’t tell me what he had gone off to do." Harry explained.  "He basically just told me to be careful is all.” Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. 

“He wasn’t at all concerned that you just collapsed?” 

“No he was, I think. I don’t know ‘mione. He always talks so cryptic.” 

She sighed, but didn’t argue. The first years had made it to the great hall. As sudden as a whip, Harry jerked his head up. Something was wrong, again. It was such a strong feeling that Harry knew it couldn’t just be about his parents death, or what he knew was going to happen tonight. 

As the Gryffindors approached their table, Harry kept his eyes trained on the High Table. It was noticeably barren. Dumbledore’s seat, Sprouts, Quirrels, Flitwick’s, and a few more of the Professors Harry didn’t have were all missing. Of his own Professors, only Snape and McGonagall remained. 

Prickles of unease went down his neck and back. 

Hermione and Ron both had noticed Harry’s silence, and sat down on either side of him at the Gryffindor table. 

“What’s wrong Harry?” Ron asked, his enthusiasm hesitantly subdued. 

“It’s nothing, Ron. I  just felt a bit queasy was all.” Harry said, trying to sound dismissive. He felt Hermione’s knowing glance at him, and Ron saw it as well. 

“What is it with you two?” He asked, more confused than angry. “You’re always whispering or giving each other these looks. Whatever it is, we want to know too!” He said, gesturing to Neville, who had begun to listen in. Harry sighed. 

“I was just worried. I think something happened, again. Half of the Professors are missing, and the ones left all look like their puppies have just been kicked.” He wasn’t wrong; both Snape and McGonnagall looked terrible. 

“Maybe they were up all night planning for the activities for today?” Neville suggested hopefully. 

“Maybe. It’s nothing, I didn’t sleep well last night.” Harry said, shrugging. Ron didn’t look convinced. He was still frowning at Harry when Harry decided there was no point in keeping everything from the two of them. He was sure Millie and Theo already knew, the three Slytherins were giving Harry a suspicious amount of looks. 

He told Ron and Neville about what had happened the night before, Hermione chipping in when Harry came to the parts that he couldn’t remember. He told them everything from the Mnemonics, despite Michals warning, to his vision showing him what would happen that night, with the troll and Quirrell. 

By the time he was done, both of the other boys were looking grim. He was listening to his friends discuss what all of this meant when he could feel eyes on him. He twisted his head, searching for who had caused this feeling, when Harry turned up to the High Table. 

Surprisingly, it was Snape. He was watching Harry intently when something strange occurred. 

In the moment Harry caught Snape’s eye, there was a sharp pull behind Harry’s eyes, and he heard a familiar voice echo in his head. ‘

“ Listen.” 

This was all the voice said. With a blink, Harry turned away from Snape. He didn’t want to think about Spharrow right now. Suddenly, he looked up to his friends. 

“Oh- there was something else, too.” He said flushing, suddenly embarrassed. His friends looked at him. 

“What?” Ron asked, when Harry didn’t continue. 

“Well, it’s something Snape told me after what happened last night. It was about what’s causing this all.” 

“You mean, like the Mnemonics?” Neville asked, pronouncing the name wrong. 

“No, No, er- about me. Why I collapsed and why I keep- “ He cut himself off very suddenly. “Snape called it ‘Spharrow.’ He asked me how many times 'Spharrow’ has talked to me.”  Harry looked around his friends, worried they would call him crazy. Unsurprisingly, they all looked like they had been expecting something of that sort. 

“I bet he knows what’s going on.” Said Ron. “Well that’s good news mate isn’t it? I mean if it was something dangerous he would’ve done something about it, wouldn't he? 

Ron seemed to be coming around to Snape, or at least, didn’t see the man as an ‘old slimy git’ anymore. 

Neville chimed in in agreement, but Hermione looked thoughtful. 

“What is it Hermione?” Harry asked. 

“It’s just that the name sounds rather familiar, but I'm not quite sure where I heard it.” She said, biting her thumbnail. 

“Probably in some obscure book then eh?” Ron asked, teasing. Hermione didn’t notice. 

“Yes.. yes you’re probably right Ronald. I think I’m going to go to the library, it just sounds so familiar…” She trailed off. Ron looked horrified. 

“You can’t be going to the library on Halloween Hermione! Hagrid’s hosting pumpkin carving!” 

“Relax Ron, I’ll go right now, before pumpkin carving. I’ll be quick.” She said, taking a few more rapid bites of her eggs before standing up. Harry stood too. 

“I’ll come as well. In case you forget the time.” He said, mostly to placate Ron, who looked appalled at the thought of going to the library on a weekend, let alone Halloween weekend. 

“Whatever, I have a chess rematch with Millie anyways. We’ll meet you guys at Hagrids?” Ron said, who was in no hurry to leave the breakfast table. 

“Yeah, see ya.” Harry said over his shoulder, following Hermione out. 

Draco Malfoy was waiting for them in the great hall. They hadn’t had the chance to speak after the previous night's events, so Harry wasn’t surprised. 

“Where's Theo and Millie?” Hermione asked the blonde. Draco shrugged. 

“Millie said something about a chess rematch with Weasley, and Theo went to lie down or something. It doesn’t matter, something happened last night.” 

“Uh, yeah we know Malfoy, we were there too.” Hermione said, only half taunting. 

“No I meant after. Professor Snape cancelled the nightly check in.” 

Malfoy must have been expecting a bigger reaction, but Hermione and Harry just looked at him. 

“What does that even mean?” Harry asked. 

“The nightly check ins? You know when the heads make sure everyones in the dorms once curfew hits- ?” 

Hermione and Harry just shook their heads. Malfoy threw up his hands somewhat dramatically. 

“Bloody hell what are the Gryffindors doing?” He said, less as a question. “Whatever, but just know that Snape has never cancelled one in history of him being head of house. It’s common Slytherin knowledge that not even the plague could stop that man from making sure all of us are where we’re supposed to be.” He said. 

“What does he do if there’s a student missing?” Hermione asked. Malfoy waved her off. 

“Snape canceled last night. We’ve been discussing it all morning. Something truly awful must have happened. What did he say after we all left?” 

Before Harry could open his mouth to respond, two people suddenly joined them on either side, one next to Harry on the right, and one next to Malfoy on the left. 

“Hiya guys.” Said the one next to Malfoy, who all three of the first years recognized as the boy from the night previous, Blair Gray. “This is Alfred Bell, we're in Potioneer’s, third years.” He said, motioning to the boy next to Harry. Blair seemed to be eyeing the three first years, Harry could tell the boy had questions about the previous night, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Ey but everyone calls me Alfie.” Said the boy next to Harry.  All of this was said as the now small crowd walked in the direction of the Library. 

 Alfie was rather short for a third year, only a few centimeters taller than Harry. He spoke with an Irish accent, despite his very English name, and had a head of near completely black hair. He was wearing Hufflepuff robes, and was grinning at the first years. 

“Er, hello.” Harry said, recovering from the startled interruption. 

“We’ve been asked to give you a Potioneers rundown.” Blair said enthusiastically. 

“We’ve practiced.” Alfie added with a wink.

“First we begin with the first Potioneer’s of Hogwarts meeting, back in 1952, nearly two decades before Professor Snape even set foot in the castle for his first day at Hogwarts.” Blair began, throwing his arms wide in emphasis and nearly smacking a passing Hufflepuff. 

“The founder was Oras Taben, odd bloke, kind of funny in the head.” Said Alfie. “He got together a group of the smartest wizards and witches, and together they formed Potioneers.” 

“Potioneer’s was a small, unassuming community. Never before had there been more than 20 members. It was invite only, very prestigious, most students didn’t even know it existed.” Said Blair. 

“But let's skip the boring old stuff eh? I mean all we care about now is the present, amirite!” Alfie said with bravado. 

“Right now there are currently 11 students in Potioneers, including you three of course. All of the houses are represented- “ 

“Now that you two have joined.” Alfie interrupted, winking at Harry and Hermione once more. 

“And we range from 1st years to 7th years.” Blair finished, eying Alfie. 

“Oddly no fifth years..” Said the dark haired boy. 

“Professor Snape is an excellent teacher, despite what you may believe from his lessons. He’s really quite brilliant, he just doesn’t have the…” Alfie trailed off, searching for the right word. 

“Temperament?” Blair suggested shrewdly. 

“He doesn’t quite have the temperament to be teaching kids who can’t tell their wands from their quills.” Alfie finished. 

“So, like most of us first years.” Malfoy said, smirking. 

“Yeah, like most of you first years.” Blair repeated, smiling. 

“The official meetings are once a week, but there are usually lots of unofficial ones.” Blair said, as the group turned the corridor that led to the library. 

“Yeah, there’s usually at least 2 or 3 of us in open potions every night. We all have our own projects that we’re working on.” Alfie noticed the excited look on Hermione’s face. “Unfortunately… first years are mostly only allowed to observe and assist.” he said. “But you still learn loads!” He added in response to Hermione’s crestfallen face. 

“It’s great having older students to help you with work, usually I can get Eliza or Madeline to help me with work that's not even potions related.” Blair said, grinning wickedly. 

“Don’t even start now Blair…” Alfie said in a warning tone. Harry looked at Hermione confused. 

“But,” Blair said quickly. “Snape tends to have high expectations. Make sure to continue doing well in lessons, just because you get into Potioneers doesn't necessarily mean you’re guaranteed to stay.” 

“Lastly, we’re supposed to tell you that the first meeting will be next Wednesday at 6pm. We meet in the 7th year lab. It’s the one directly across the corridor from the open potions lab.” Alfie finished. 

They had timed their ‘rundown’ perfectly, they were all standing at the entrance of the library now. 

“Any questions?” they asked at the same time.

“Has anyone ever told you two that you remind people of the Weasley twins?” Hermione asked innocently. 

“As a matter of fact we have.” Alfie said, grinning. 

“Those two raisins are in our year. They might be funny, but being funny doesn’t get you anywhere unless you're hot with the ladies.” Blair said, smiling. Alfie flicked him on the back of the ear. 

“Mate, one more time and I’m sending an owl to your mum.” Alfie threatened. 

“Come on, the first one didn’t count! I just mentioned her name, not even her voluptuou- “ Alfie hit Blair again on the back of the head. 

“I was going to say voluptuous wit! Her charm!” Said Blair indignant. The two third years turned back the way the group had walked and continued arguing until their voices faded away. 

The three first years looked at each other briefly with amusement before making their way into the library to sit at their usual seats. 

Hermione whisked off right away to find a certain book, and Malfoy drew out his Potions essay. 

“Homework on halloween?” Harry found himself asking. The blonde just shrugged. Harry pulled out his essay as well, he wasn’t much in the mood for working, but he had nothing else to do. 

“Potter, I just wanted to say- “ Draco started hesitantly. Harry looked up, curious. “I don’t think it’s right that they’ve made this a jolly holiday. There should be something, it could be small even, just something as a reminder.” Said Malfoy. 

Harry swallowed thickly. He felt a wave of appreciation for Malfoy wash over him. Before Harry could respond though, Hermione came over with an armful of books. Harry didn’t even bother asking what they were or what she was looking for. 

They spent the entire morning in the library, leaving just in time to meet the others at Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. Harry had worked on his essay, but he also spent a lot of time thinking. Blair and Alfie had given Harry a lot of things to think about, mostly about Snape.

 Something one of them had said had sparked his curiosity. 1952 was two decades before Snape had started at Hogwarts. If that was right, there was at least a few years of overlap from when Snape had been at school to when his parents had. 

Harry wondered if Snape had known them. This was the thought that occupied him throughout most of the day. He didn’t even notice when Hermione seemed to discover something important from her book, or when she had shown Malfoy what was in her book and he looked at Harry strangely. 

Harry was only thinking about his parents, and what Snape might say if Harry approached him with questions about his mum or dad. 

Chapter Text

The Halloween feast was upon them. Harry had spent most of the day with Neville and Hermione, following Ron around as the redhead dragged his friends to an array of different events. Harry’s favorite was definitely the Pumpkin Carving, in which Hagrid served them steaming hot apple cider and let the first years sit around a crackling fire while they used different charms to carve their pumpkins. 

Harry had also enjoyed the event that Flitwick had hosted in their charms classroom. After appearing quite suddenly, the Charms professor had looked quite tired, and he didn’t explain his absence at breakfast. Despite this, he was doing his best to put on an entertaining event. Flitwick had shown the first years how to charm small paper figurines, and taught them the rules of a classic Halloween game called “Hallow’s Hellfight”. It was basically a strategic battle game similar to Mafia. Harry, Hermione, and Ron teamed up against Millie, Theo, and Draco. They had had a great time dressing their figurines in colorful suits of armour. 

Harry found himself laughing until he was hoarse as he commanded his red and gold clad warriors against the green and silver opponents. After a hard fought battle, there was paper strewn all over the classroom, and Flitwick was announcing the Gryffindors as the champions. This didn’t seem to bother the Slytherins too much, however. 

Snape, too, had held an event. Harry had a sense that Dumbledore had strong armed the Potions master into doing it, as the man looked like it was perhaps the last thing he wanted to do. 

Harry watched Snape carefully, like Flitwick, the man seemed to be tired. Harry knew something must have happened the night before, but it seemed the professors were attempting to act normal. Harry didn’t dwell on it too long. 

True to his character, Snape held a fierce competition game involving logic and potions making. The students had received instructions for a potion that was missing critical information, such as how much of something you needed to add, or how long you had to stir for. In order to get the instructions, they had to solve complex riddles. 

The game was played in a sudden death type way, four students would compete around a large circular table. If you were the last one to solve the riddle and complete the potion, you were out, and a new student took your place. 

Harry found himself in a fiercely competitive round against Hermione, Draco, and Blair Gray, who had joined them with glee. With a lot of sabotage, truce betrayals, and taunting, Hermione was declared the winner, and Snape had sent them away without allowing them to continue playing. 

“Go bother someone else.” The man had said, shutting the door in their faces. Harry hadn’t missed the amusement on his face.

Harry had noticed the man seemed to be watching Harry quite closely. Harry didn’t blame him, he had collapsed the night before. Harry felt a lot better, though, and did his best to make it look like he was having a good time. 

Throughout the day, Harry did his best to keep his thoughts present and in the moment. He sometimes caught himself mournfully reminded of his parents death, but he managed to force the thoughts out for the most part. 

Seeing Snape had also reminded Harry of what Alfie had said, about Snape possibly being in school around the time Harry’s parents were. Harry didn't have the opportunity to ask. 

By the time he was sitting down at the end of the night for the feast, his mood had lifted significantly. He truly had had a fun day, and he had nearly forgotten what was to happen tonight. 

Even with the knowledge of what was to come, Harry didn’t feel nervous or scared, mostly intrigued. Harry felt curiosity was more justifiable than Ron’s reaction, which was one of downright excitement. 

“I hope we’ll get to see it.” Ron said, sitting across from Harry and Hermione, alongside Neville. 

“See what?” Neville asked, rubbing his arm where he had clumsily smacked it against the table. 

“The troll of course!” 

“Shush Ronald.” Hermione hissed, looking around to see if anyone around them had heard. No one had, but Hermione didn’t relax. 

“We aren’t supposed to know.” She reminded him. Ron just shrugged. 

The study group had decided that they would follow Quirrell that night. They had made the plan the previous night in the Library. They had discussed what Millie had overheard a few weeks ago, about Quirrell planning on stealing something. They had decided it was too dangerous to try and stop the man, but too good of an opportunity to pass up by telling another professor. 

Theo and Millie had decided they would go back towards the dungeons once the troll came. They figured that since they were Slytherins, it wouldn’t look suspicious, just that they were going to their house. Instead, they would try to figure out where and how Quirrell had set the troll inside. 

The other four would follow Quirrell. Harry had thought it may be too large of a group, but Hermione had insisted that it had to be at least four, in case Quirrell realized he was being followed and tried to attack them. 

Neville was fidgeting slightly, and Harry could tell the boy was nervous. Neville had been opposed to following the man, but he was overruled. 

“Neville, don’t feel like you have to come with us. We’ll tell you everything we find out.” Harry promised. Neville shook his head. 

“I’d rather go with you guys.” He said, still sounding unsure. 

Before Harry could reply, silence fell suddenly in the hall. Dumbledore had stood up and thrown his arms out wide. 

“Welcome!” He paused, looking around. It seemed as if he was trying to make eye contact with every student there. “I wish to thank our professors, who sacrificed their day to host a multitude of activities and competitions throughout Halloween.” He said. Cheers and applause broke out within the students. Harry caught eyes with Hagrid, who winked at him. 

“Secondly, I wish to thank our students, who have worked hard enough all term to deserve a day of fun.” 

More applause. 

“Finally, I would like to wish you all a happy eating.” The man said. 

This warranted the loudest cheer of all, as the clean platters all became full with all sorts of delicious smelling food. 

Ron began immediately, taking some of everything and scarfing it down. 

“Stop it Ron, you’ll choke!” Neville said anxiously as Ron hacked heartily as something went down the wrong tube. 

“We may have to leave in just a few minutes.” Ron said, not slowing down. “Thth throll coul come an’ minuth!” He finished, after shoving his mouth with more food. 

Harry wasn’t feeling very hungry, but he loaded his plate anyhow. 

In the end, Ron’s approach was right. Not even seven minutes into the jovial feast, the doors into the great hall burst open. 

Heads turned as Professor Quirrell stumbled in, running up to the high table. 

Harry felt a strange sense of deja vu. He knew what would happen next. 

““Troll… Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know.” the man said, immediately fainting. 

The uproar was immediate. Harry kept his eyes trained on the collapsed Quirrell. Hermione, Ron, and Neville were watching too. Harry continued watching as Dumbledore ordered the prefects to take the students back to their houses at once. As all of the students stood up and began moving, Harry’s view was blocked. 

“I can’t see him!” Harry said over the uproar. 

“I do!” Hermione replied back. “He’s stood up! He’s leaving through the side entrance, towards the entrance hall!” 

“Come on.” Harry urged Ron and Neville. “We have to be quick!” 

They pushed their way through the crowd. No one paid much attention to them despite the way they were pushing against the general flow of movement. 

They made their way through the side exit, and found Draco waiting for them. 

“I saw him go through that corridor!” He whispered excitedly. 

The hall was eerily quiet compared to the roar of voices they had just left behind. There were no houses in this direction, so there was no reason a student nor professor would be going this way. 

They were about to take off after Quirrell when two voices surprised them from behind. 

“Hey! Where are you guy’s going?” 

Harry’s stomach sank as he turned to face Eliza and Michal. Harry could have kicked himself. He knew he should have waited to tell Hermione and Draco about his vision. The only thing that could make this worse was if -

“Blimey, you’re really going to follow him?” Came Blair’s voice, appearing the same way Eliza and Michal had. 

“Shh!” Harry hissed at them. “ We are going to follow him, but you guys can't come! We’ll be far too loud and conspicuous.” 

“You’re dumber than you seem if you think you can tell us what to do.” Eliza said, putting her hands on her hips. 

“Does it even matter? We’re going to lose him if we don’t go now!” Draco interrupted. 

“Listen, you guys get to choose. Either we march you right back to your dorms, or we come with. That's final.” She said, full prefect mode. 

Harry was getting a headache. 

“Fine.” he snapped. He turned to Blair. “Go back to your dorm, we’ll tell you everything ok?” 

“Okay.” the boy said, raising his arms up. He turned and went back through the doorway into the great hall without further argument. Harry quickly looked at Michal and Eliza.

“There’s already one here, so don’t bother walking like trolls. At least try to be quiet.” Harry said to Eliza and Michal, before turning away. He ignored their indignant replies and hurried through the door Malfoy had said Quirrell had gone through. 

With the unfortunate small army behind him, Harry made his way up the corridor, until he stopped. Ahead of them lay three passages, one that veered to the left and slightly up, one that continued straight, and one that took a sharp right. 

“We’ve lost him.” Hermione said, disappointed. 

“Shh.” Harry said. 

“How do we know which way - “ 

“Shh.” Harry said again, cutting Eliza off. 

Harry listened hard, praying Spharrow would talk to him. In the back of his head, he noted how odd it was that he was now asking the fox for help rather than stubbornly pretending he didn’t exist. 

“Left, Harry.” 

“We’re going left.” He announced, before taking the passage. He ignored the multitude of “why’s” that echoed behind him, and focused on his destination. 

The corridors were completely empty now. All of the professors would be in the dungeon, finding and containing the troll, and all of the students should now be in their houses, none of them should have any desire to be out of their houses when they could potentially stumble across a troll. 

Harry figured they would have only a few precious minutes of time before Percy or Helen, the two Gryffindor prefects, would notice they were missing four of their first years. Harry had a feeling Snape already knew Draco wasn’t in the dorms. The man seemed quite serious about his protective measures for his students. 

As they made their way up, following Harry’s path through doorways and stairwells, they came to a sudden halt once more. Harry ducked into an empty classroom. 

“It’s Ms. Norris and Filch.” Harry said quietly. They all looked at each other. 

“Any way to sneak by?” Eliza asked. Harry shook his head. 

There was silence for a tense moment, before Nevile spoke. 

“I’ll be a decoy.” he started, surprising everyone. “I can run back down the hall, making lots of noise. He’ll follow me and let you guys go through. 

“Neville, we can’t let you do that!” Hermione whispered. “You could get in serious trouble, what would you even say if he caught you?” 

“I won’t get caught.” The boy snapped, surprising everyone even more. “I’m not that clumsy.” He said, softer. 

“Oh Neville, I know!” Hermione said, voice distraught. “I didn’t mean it like that at all! It’s just, what if, what if Ms. Norris follows but Filch stays?” 

“She has a point,” Ron started. “I’ll go too. Neville can run back the way we came, and I’ll take the opposite hall as the one you guys need. That way they’ll have to split up, and the way will definitely be cleared.” 

Harry felt a rush of appreciation, and nodded at them. 

“Thank you.” Harry said genuinely. 

“Be careful.” Hermione said. “For all we know, the troll may not be in the dungeons anymore.” 

Harry elbowed her in the ribs, he didn’t want either of them to lose their nerves. 

“We’ll see you in the tower.” Harry said. Eliza and Michal had remained quiet throughout the entire conversation. 

“We need to take the passage on the right side, so take the passage on the left. It leads to the charms corridor, you can make your way back up to the Gryffindor tower from there.” Harry whispered quickly to Ron. The redhead nodded, twisting his arms as a form of stretch, looking determined. 

“Neville, you'll just need to retrace our steps. The dining hall should be emptied by now. If you’re quick, you should be able to get to the tower just a bit after Ron does.” The round face boy nodded in agreement. 

“Put your hood up.” Draco suggested to Ron and Neville before they were about to take off. “That way they won’t be able to tell who you are unless they catch you.” 

The two boys nodded, and drew their hoods up. With a nod to each other, they burst loudly out of the classroom. 

Harry listened as Filch called out to Ron, who sprinted past the man with his hood hiding his face. The group waited as the footsteps faded into silence, and then quickly followed as Harry began running down the passage on the right. 

After what felt like forever, Harry came to a stop in front of the door leading to the out of bounds corridor. He pulled out his wand and muttered “Alohamora.” 

The lock clicked open, and Harry stepped through. 

It was dark in the corridor, no windows at all to provide natural lighting. They kept the door behind them propped open, to give a small bit of light. They slowly made their way towards the end of the corridor, but didn’t make it far before Harry froze. 

“Bloody hell.” Michal whispered slowly, as the five students found themselves staring at an enormous, three headed dog. 

The three giant heads each had their eyes trained on the students. Long drawls of spit was hanging down their long, sharp fangs. 

“ Sing.” Harry heard distinctly in his head. 

“What?” Harry asked aloud, sure he must have heard wrong. 

“ Sing, Harry!” 

The voice was so commanding that Harry blurted out- 

“You are… my fire..” he sang, voice shaking. The dogs growled louder, and he could feel the incredulous looks on his friends faces. 

“My one desire.” Harry sang, a bit louder. 

“Harry what the bloody hell are you doing?” Muttered Eliza. 

“Believe, when I sayy.” He paused, the dog had stopped growling. Hermione, quicker to pick up it than the others, opened her mouth. 

“IIII want it thaaat way.” she sang. 

“Someone bring me a gun.” Eliza muttered. 

“For the dog?” Harry heard Michal ask.

“For myself.” 

“Tell me whyyy” Draco sang. 

Harry could just imagine the look on Neville and Ron’s faces when Harry and Hermione tell them what happened after they left. They stood there, singing, until the dog laid down and started snoring. 

“Ok.” Harry whispered, as Hermione and Draco continued. “Only one of us needs to stay here and sing, and the rest of us can find Quirrell.” 

“I am not singing.” Eliza said firmly. 

“Ok, suit yourself, maybe the dog likes tummy rubs.” Harry said, grinning wickedly. He pulled Hermione and Draco away, Michal following closely. They gingerly stepped over the dog, who began shifting around once the singing had stopped. 

“Wait!” They heard her whisper shout. They had gotten further down the hall, but not far enough for them to miss Eliza’s voice. 

“Puff… the magic dragon..” She began, fuming. 

Harry turned his attention towards the corridor once more. To his surprise, it didn’t extend very far past where the dog had been standing. As the four moved down the halls, they peeked their heads into the empty classrooms, but no one seemed to be around. 

They reached the end, and Hermione spoke. 

“Look.” She said, looking down at the ground. 

“It’s a trapdoor” Michal muttered. “Where does it lead to?” None of the others answered. 

“What in the devil is on my shoes?” Malfoy asked. They all looked to Malfoys feet. 

Kind of small. Harry thought to himself. He almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of his head.

“Shine a light on it?” Hermione suggested. Michal pulled out his wand and casted a Lumos.  

Harry froze as the light illuminated not what just covered Malfoy’s shoes, but coated the floor around them.. It was blood.  

“Quirrell must have tried getting through, but the dog must have gotten to him.” Harry said. 

“Uh, did it… you know, eat him?” Malfoy whispered. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left Eliza alone back there.” Michal said. 

“Do you think he made it in? Like in through the trapdoor?” 

“ No.” Came the fox. 

“No, he didn’t make it in.” Harry repeated aloud. “ And he’s a wizard, Draco, he had his wand. So no, the dog didn’t eat him. It must have just bitten him or injured him some other way.” 

“We should leave.” Hermione suggested. Harry nodded, he had no desire to stay in this corridor any longer. 

The four quickly made their way back to Eliza, who stopped singing at once. 

They were well out of the corridor and had locked the door behind them before the dog woke up. 

The castle was still deserted, and the silence was eerie. 

“Please lets never speak of that again.” Eliza said. She was the first one to speak as they marched down towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“Oh come on, your singing wasn’t that bad.” Draco replied. 

“I don’t think i’m speaking to you lot ever again.” She said, high pitched. 

“I wouldn’t mind the silence.” Harry muttered, a splitting headache threatening to make his eyes water. 

“I can not believe you just left me there- “ 

“I thought you said you weren’t speaking to them?” Michal taunted. Harry just sighed. They all had seemed to get over the initial horror of seeing an enormous giant dog that definitely could have killed them quite quickly. They seemed fine, and Harry had more important things to dwell on. Namely, Millie must have been right. 

Quirrell had definitely been trying to steal something, and that dog, whoevers it was, was protecting whatever it is that the Defense Professor was attempting to steal. It didn’t bode well that the dog’s weakness was music. If Quirrell ever found that out, Harry would bet that the next time he’d come prepared. 

They had reached the Gryffindor tower without running into anyone else, professor, student, cat nor troll. 

“We’ll walk you to your dorm too, Malfoy.” She said, correctly assuming what Malfoy was just about to ask. 

“Are you going to tell anyone what we saw?” Harry asked the two older students. Eliza shook her head. 

“No, I don’t really understand what’s going on with you guys, but I know well enough to stay out of it. We won’t tell anyone under the condition that if you guys are going to do something like that again, you’ll tell us.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, and, I’m sorry. That dog could have woken up at any point and- “ 

“Oh don’t worry about it Harry,” she said, waving him off. “I’m mostly joking.” she finished, grinning at him. 

With that, the three turned back down towards the great hall. Hermione and Harry climbed through the portrait hole to an incredibly packed common room. It was a rare sight to find the common room this busy, but with the feast being canceled, everyone had traipsed up and were now eating sandwiches that had been sent up. 

It wasn’t too hard to find Ron and Neville, who both looked unharmed and happy, hopefully meaning neither of them had been caught or identified. 

“I have a headache, but ‘mione can tell you everything that happened.” He said as way of greeting. “I’m happy to see you guys made it back well enough.” 

Without waiting for a reply, he headed up the stairs to his dorm. With every step he took, the crushing pain in his head got heavier. With a huff, he flopped over into his bed and fell asleep. 

—

Excerpt from The Art and Practice of Veiled Truths; Curses and Divination Through the Ages. 

By;  Mortimer A. Kynwick, Professor of Esoteric Arts, Durmstrang Institute of Magic

Chapter 6 - The price of wisdom; Unraveling the Curse of the Well of Knowledge

The "Well of Knowledge" is an exceptionally rare and dangerous curse, categorized as a curse of possession. Its manifestation is bound to highly specific and unusual conditions, making it one of the least understood magical phenomena in existence. The curse only takes root a year past the decade of a large-scale war that results in significant loss of life. Even under these circumstances, it cannot be deliberately administered; rather, it emerges unintentionally.

The curse activates when one person fatally strikes another. Upon death, the victim is unnaturally revived by the curse itself. This revival is not an act of mercy but a transformation: the afflicted individual is granted access to a seemingly infinite reservoir of knowledge, encompassing every conceivable discipline of magic, history, and beyond. However, this extraordinary gift is accompanied by an equally profound cost. The victim’s life no longer belongs to them; instead, it becomes the property of the curse. Those afflicted are compelled to use their newfound knowledge, often in ways that lead to tragedy or their own inevitable destruction.

The paradoxical nature of the Well of Knowledge lies in its duality. While it bestows unparalleled intellectual and magical prowess, it simultaneously binds its victim to a fate of ruin. Their brilliance burns intensely, but only for a brief period, as the curse appears to exact its final toll in the form of an early and untimely death.

Historically, there are only two confirmed cases of the Well of Knowledge curse. The first recorded victim was Erasmus Blackthorn, a wizard of extraordinary intellect who revolutionized magical transportation and rune-based defense systems in the late 11th century. Blackthorn’s unparalleled genius was tragically short-lived; he perished at the age of 26, his body surrounded by incomprehensible magical diagrams that defied even the most brilliant minds of his era.

The second known victim was Calista Viremont, an 18th-century seer and enchantress whose prophecies shaped the political landscape of wizarding Europe. Viremont’s insights into future events and her innovations in enchanting techniques were decades ahead of her time. Yet, like Blackthorn, her life ended abruptly at the age of 26 in a catastrophic magical explosion that leveled her entire estate. The incident is widely believed to have been the curse claiming its final toll.

The Well of Knowledge curse continues to fascinate and terrify magical scholars. Some theorize that it is a manifestation of collective grief and desperation born from the immense suffering of wartime. Others believe it to be an ancient magical construct designed to enforce balance—granting immense knowledge only at the cost of immense sacrifice. Whatever its true nature, the curse remains shrouded in mystery, its victims remembered as both tragic figures and legends of unparalleled power.

Chapter Text

 The events of Halloween night had been a popular topic of conversation throughout the days that followed. Dumbledore had yet to announce an explanation for the troll, which made for an excellent opportunity for rumors to run rampant. 

Harry and his friends had thoroughly discussed Quirrell's actions that night, yet no explanation seemed to satisfy them all. Harry was under the impression that the three headed dog had been protecting something that Quirrell had been attempting to steal, along with Millie and Hermione. Ron and Theo seemed to believe that the man had been trying to steal the dog itself, and the trapdoor wasn’t really relevant at all. 

True to his word, he had explained all of this to Blair Gray, who was eager to hear what had come of them after he departed. Interestingly, he had something to share with the group as well. 

“When I went back through the Great Hall, it was completely empty of anyone besides a professor. He was looking around the high table and got really angry when he saw me there.” The boy had said, after Harry had shared what they had seen. “It was strange though, he didn’t mention me not following Dumbledore's orders, but made me promise not to tell anyone he had returned to the hall himself.” 

This got everyone thinking. 

“Which professor was it?” Neville had asked. Blair shrugged. 

“I’ve never had him, maybe the muggle studies teacher? It could've been Ancient Runes too.” 

Nothing further had come from this.They weren’t able to figure out which Professor it had been, and resolved to have Blair point him out in the future. 

Draco had come up with a theory himself, in which he believed Quirrell hadn’t even gone in the room, and it was someone else’s blood they had found. His proof was that they hadn’t exactly seen Quirrell enter the third floor corridor, and the man had returned to class without any visible injuries. He was stuttering more than ever, but made no suggestion that he had been grievously injured just the few days prior. 

Harry had privately thought that none of these other theories held up at all to his own, but he let it rest. His mind had moved on to other things. 

Harry was currently lying in his four poster, looking up at the ceiling. It was completely dark in the room, the overhead clouds blotting out any possible light from the moon that could have shined into the dorm. It was late, far later than Harry had wished to be up. All of the other boys were fast asleep, and Harry could pick out each one of their distinct snores. 

He shuffled around a bit, trying to get comfortable. Harry had no idea why he wasn’t able to fall asleep, he felt tired and his eyelids were heavy. 

His thoughts had drifted to the upcoming day. It was Tuesday night, well, probably Wednesday morning by now. That evening Harry would attend his first ever Potioneer’s meeting. He wasn’t quite sure what to feel. Hermione was excited, she had hardly stopped talking about it throughout the entire day. Harry knew Draco was excited, but that was only because Harry had found out that Draco had known what Potioneer’s was since before he arrived at Hogwarts. 

Harry also discovered that Snape was Draco’s godfather. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

Throughout the past couple of dates, Blair and Alfie were joining Harry and his friends while studying. Harry could tell that Ron didn’t much like Alfie, but the black hair boy took it in stride. 

Both Ron and Neville had been pretty good sports about not being invited to Potioneers at first, Harry knew that they were both aware of the fact that neither one of them were naturals at the subject. Despite this, he could tell they were both tired of hearing about how excited Hermione was, and how much she was looking forward  to “finally learn more complicated things.” 

The more Harry thought about it, the more excited he felt. Harry truly did enjoy potions. He had a faint memory of it being his favorite subject to read about during the summer. Harry’s misgivings were mostly about juggling another thing on top of his already heavy workload. 

Eventually, Harry fell asleep, and he opened his eyes to find himself on a familiar swing, gripping the ropes just as tight as he had the first time he found himself there. 

He swung his head around wildly for a few seconds, before relaxing. He’d been there before. 

Harry looked to the ground and found the fox, laying exactly as he had done the first time, a meter or so in front of him. 

“Hello.” The fox said pleasantly. 

“Hi.” Harry said lamely. Harry found himself studying the fox more intently than he had before. The fox’s pelt was a scarlet red. It was striking, and Harry found himself wondering how he hadn’t noticed that the first time. As if the fox could hear his thoughts, he responded. 

“You were quite preoccupied, and it’s rather easy to miss.” Harry just nodded, shifting his focus to the fox's eyes. They were completely dark, no pupils. It felt as if Harry was staring into complete darkness. 

“So… are you Spharrow?” 

If fox’s could grin, that was what this one was doing. 

“I am. I was pleased when your Potions professor told you my name, I was getting tired of being referred to as “Him”. “ 

Harry was about to ask a follow up question when the Fox stopped him. 

“I’ve been wondering Harry, what is the name of that giant man who lives at the edge of the forest?” 

Harry was surprised at the abrupt question, as well as the strangeness of it. 

“Well, I thought you would’ve known, but his names Hagrid.” The fox nodded. 

“What purpose does Hagrid serve at Hogwarts?” 

Harry found this question quite odd as well. 

“Er, well he’s the…” Harry trailed off, trying to remember the official title Hagrid had introduced himself as. “Keeper of… something or other. I don’t remember. I think he takes care of the animals and stuff, he also substitutes for a class that the older students take, Care of Magical Creatures or something like that.” Harry blushed, suddenly embarrassed that he didn’t seem to have a very good memory without the fox’s help. 

The fox nodded, seeming to not notice Harry’s embarrassment. 

“Why?” Harry asked. “I mean, why are you wondering.” he finished quickly, after the fox turned to him with a skeptical look. 

“How important is it to you that I answer that?” 

“Um, not that much?” 

“Okay then.” Spharrow said, standing up. The fox shook itself aggressively, bits of wood chips from the park spun in all directions. “So what about Nicholas?” 

“I’m sorry, I er- I don't know any Nicholas.”

Spharrow was stretching now. He had reached his front paws way out in front of him and was stretching, similar to how a cat would. 

‘

“Nicholas Flamel.” He said after straightening up, sounding impatient.

“Still don’t know who that is.” 

“Well he’s rather important, is he not?”

“How should I know if he’s important or not, I don't even know who he is.” Harry said, starting to feel annoyed at the fox’s inability to speak normally. 

The fox huffed. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“You’ve just had one.” 

Harry paused and frowned. 

“Why are you in my head, and what even are you?”

“See now you’ve just had two more.” 

“Just answer.” Harry said, frustrated. Surprised, he found that he had kicked off, and was swinging higher and higher, using his legs to propel him forward and pull him back. 

“I thought it was quite obvious, have you never seen a fox?” 

Before Harry could open his mouth to say that of course he’d seen a fox before, and Spharrow definitely doesn’t qualify as just a fox, when he was suddenly sitting up straight, back in Gryffindor tower. 

Harry rubbed his temples, a headache threatening to form. He flopped back down onto his pillow and immediately fell into a dreamless sleep. 

…

Harry was eating breakfast, oddly hungry. He was contemplating his dream the night before. All Harry could really recall was that the fox was a striking red color, and that he had mentioned a man named Nicholas Flammel. 

Harry wasn’t surprised to find that he had no idea who or why this name was in his head. He had come to the conclusion that Spharrow had a sick sense of humor, and would help Harry out in transfiguration class but wouldn’t tell him who, what, or why this name felt so important. 

He decided to bring it up to his friends. 

“Do you guys know anyone named Nicholas Flammel?” 

Ron and Hermione had been arguing over something trivial, but turned to him. 

“No.” Ron had replied at the same time Hermione said “Doesn’t ring any bells.” 

They all turned to Neville, who shook his head. 

“Why?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s just something- “ Harry paused, it was still strange to talk aloud about this despite his friends knowing pretty much as much as much as he did. “It was just something Spharrow mentioned to me.” 

His friends all nodded knowingly. They seemed to become rather serious whenever he mentioned the fox. 

“Well it’s probably important then. I’m certain that we can find him in the Library if he was an important person.” Hermione said thoughtfully. 

“Well what if it’s not, what if it’s a student, or someone random who’s done nothing to be put in a book about?” Neville said. Harry nodded, he had a good point. 

“It could be some muggle accountant for all we know.” Said Ron. 

“Well even if you’re right, it’s still good to cover bases.” Hermione said. “We should at least try to find him. Besides, his name sounds rather old. When was the last time you met someone born within the last twenty years with that surname.” 

Ron just sighed. 

“Guess there's no harm. We were in the library all day yesterday, why not do it again.” the boy said, looking glum. 

“Oh, cheer up Ron. Weren’t you happy when you received your Transfiguration marks? We don’t  study for no reason.” 

Hermione continued trying to motivate Ron the whole walk to Charms with no avail. She didn't have to worry, though. They received their essays back with their grades, and Ron was significantly cheered that he had earned an E, the first he had earned in Charms. 

With restored vigor, Ron didn’t seem to mind so much that the plan was to go to the library after Charms. The plan was to complete their Transfiguration essays before their final class of the day. 

As they sat down and settled at their usual table in the corner of the Library, Harry felt a rush of heaviness.  They had spent more time in the library than any other place in the castle, and the work just kept coming. 

“Is it ever going to get easier? Less?” He groaned after pulling out his ten inch parchment that was still depressingly blank.   

“God I hope so.” Came a voice behind him. Millie, Theo, and Draco had arrived from their Herbology lesson. “That was a nightmare.” Millie finished. 

“Has Sprout come back? Or is it still… what’s his name? The dopey guy?” Ron asked as the Slytherins sat down.  

“It’s still Professor Molworth. Poor Sprout must be bedridden.” Theo said, not looking sorry at all. 

“Come off it Theo. Everyone knows it’s not DragonPox.” Millie snapped. The whole group turned to her. “Oh come on, you guys feel it, right? Something happened again, the night Harry collapsed and Snape disappeared.” she said, speaking as if it were obvious. 

Harry remembered the strange feelings he had experienced Halloween morning, walking down to the great hall. He also remembered a strange occurrence in which he heard Spharrow speak after he made eye contact with Snape. 

Harry had had so much on his mind recently, that these events seemed insignificant, but he began to ponder them more after Millie brought it up. 

“Well yeah, the teachers were acting odd and a lot of them were gone that morning.” Hermione recalled. “But they seemed normal the last couple of days during lessons.” 

Millie scoffed at this. “Since when has it been normal for everyone to feel so miserable all the time? Halloween was fun, but it felt like it was just a distraction from everyone being so sad. Sprout still hasn’t recovered after Samuel, and it’s been two months!” 

There was silence after her declaration, but the group was shaken out of the reverie when Eliza and Michal sat down at the two remaining seats around the table. 

“We were at another table, but we couldn’t help but be distracted.” Eliza said, eyeing Millie. Millie didn’t look away, looking defiant.

“You’re right, you know.” Michal said softly. Everyone turned to him. Michal had this sense about him, he didn’t speak much, but when he did, people listened. 

“This isn’t normal. Something’s been poisoning the air. It’s like misery and anger are contagious, and it’s never been like this before.” 

Eliza nodded her head in agreement, but eyed Michal cautiously. Harry assumed that Michal had told Eliza what the group had discussed in Snape’s lab the night before Halloween. Everyone seemed to agree that Michal’s theory on the memory disrupting magic had to be true. 

“Does anyone know who Nicholas Flammel is?” Harry asked, breaking the silence. 

Nobody did, and with that, everyone pulled out work and began their assignments, silence falling over them. 

The table was full, yet Alfie and Blair somehow managed to pull chairs up to the table to join. When Harry reminded the boys that there were plenty of open tables, Blair said, while grinning-  

“Yes but we felt left out with the whole crew sitting together.” 

Around an hour into the session, Theo broke the concentrated silence, making Harry jump slightly. Harry had made a solid dent in his Transfiguration essay, and was quite pleased with his work so far. 

“Nicholas Flammel is the only known keeper of the Philosophers Stone.” He said, reading from a book. Harry’s head snapped up. 

“What’s the philosopher's stone?” 

“It’s a stone that makes the elixir of life.” Blair said, reading over Theo’s shoulder. 

“So Nicholas Flammel is an alchemist?” Hermione asked. Theo nodded. 

“It says here that Flammel was born in 1330, and has been using the elixir of life for the last six hundred years.” Theo said in awe. 

“Bloody hell, who’d want to live that long?” Ron asked in disbelief. 

“It also says that the thirteen uses of the elixir of life were discovered by Flamel, and his research partner, Albus Dumbledore.” Blair added. 

“Do you think Dumbledore is six hundred years old?” Neville asked. 

“No, he was born in 1881.” 

“Mate, how do you even know that?” Alfie asked Michal . 

“I’m a Ravenclaw?” he suggested. This made everyone laugh. 

Harry was thinking hard. He had just remembered something else about his dream. Spharrow had mentioned Hagrid a weird amount of times, and Harry didn’t feel like this could be a coincidence. 

Harry was trying to find a way to connect everything together when Neville asked him what he was thinking. The whole group turned to Harry, and he hesitated. 

“I was just thinking about how this could have anything to do with Hagrid.” Harry said slowly. 

“Hagrid?” Draco asked. 

Harry looked around the table. At this point, what did he have to lose? Spharrow had told Harry that Michal and Blair were trustworthy, and didn’t that extend to Alfie as well? Spharrow must have known that Blair tells Alfie everything, so Harry figured he could trust the dark haired boy too. Everyone else already knew as well, or at least partially knew. And besides, eleven heads thinking on it was much better than one. 

“I had a dream.” Harry admitted. He was feeling extremely scrutinized as ten pairs of eyes watched him with curiosity. “I think it may have something to do with Quirrell, and I only remember the names Nicholas Flamel, and Hagrid.”

“Blimey, are you like one of those magical future readers or- what do they call them?” Alfie started, turning to Blair. 

“He means divination, you know, seeing the future and stuff in dreams or whatever.” Blair explained. 

“Hate that class.” Alfie muttered. 

“There’s a class for that?” Millie and Neville asked at the same time. 

“Yeah, and it bloody sucks.”

“Hey, please, language.” Eliza said.

“Can we stay on topic?” Harry asked, amused. . “There’s a connection somehow, I know it.” 

With this plea for help, everyone started brainstorming. Ideas were brought up, argued over, and shut down for the next hour. Everyone had their own ideas, but none of them seemed right, until Neville hit the nail on the head. 

“Well, wasn’t Quirrell trying to steal something?” He asked, his voice rising above the others. He seemed to become excited. 

“Well, if we work under that assumption then- “ Theo was interrupted by Neville. 

“If someone wanted to keep something protected here at Hogwarts, they’d probably have something to guard it.” He said. Harry was starting to catch on, and so was Hermione. 

“If you wanted a magical beast that could protect something, you’d need someone with the knowledge and the know how to find you the right animal.” Hermione said. Neville nodded. 

“And if you’re at Hogwarts, who would that be?” Neville asked triumphantly. 

“Hagrid.” they all said in unison. 

“So, the philosophers stone is here, and Flammel- or Dumbledore, wants to keep it safe, so they ask Hagrid to find something suitable to guard it.” Blair said, piecing it together. 

“That sounds like it could be right.” Ron said, sitting back. 

“Yes but why would Dumbledore, or anyone for that matter, think that letting a giant killer dog roam a corridor in a school full of children is acceptable?” Draco asked. He'd been playing devil's advocate this whole time, shooting down ideas left and right. “I mean, even after his cryptic warning at the beginning of term, lots of people probably didn’t take it seriously. For god's sake, the door wasn’t even properly locked! We used Alahomora and it just opened!” 

“Well Dumbledore isn’t exactly a man of precautions.” Hermione burst out. Everyone looked at her, she seemed slightly embarrassed by her outburst. It was obvious to Harry that this was something she’d thought of before. 

“What I mean is,” She started again, “Is that he seems far too busy to mind that his students could be in potential danger. She finished delicately. 

“Dumbledore’s very interested in the safety of his students.” Eliza said, “his rules regarding prefect and head boy and girl duties show that, he’s very serious about those types of things.” 

Not exactly. Harry thought to himself, thinking of the night when Neville and Ron had almost gone missing themselves. Harry could tell Hermione was thinking the same thing. 

“I’m just saying, he’s supposed to be the greatest wizard of all time, and he can’t figure out a way to ensure no trolls get inside the castle while we’re all eating.” Hermione finished, looking grim. 

“If Neville’s right, and it sounds like he could be, it just raises more questions than anything.” Harry said, sighing. “Like why Flamel wants to hide it here in the first place? I mean he’s been doing pretty well with it for the last six hundred years, why change it up now?” 

“And why would Quirrell even be trying to take it?” Millie asked. 

“Well, blimey I mean, it’s immortality innit? A better question is how Quirrell even knows it's in the castle.” Alfie said. 

Harry was going to reply when Eliza interrupted. 

“We want to hear the rest of what you guys come up with, but we have to leave for class.” She said, standing up with Michal. “We’ll see you guy’s tonight.” she said, referring to Potioneers. 

The two older students left, and Harry realized they needed to as well. 

“It’s pretty late, we should go if we don’t want to be late to History.” he said, glancing at the fancy clock that was perched above a bookshelf. 

With this, the group split. Harry’s head still thinking hard about what the possible connection could mean, and if the Mnemonics was possibly tied into it all. 

…

Harry followed Hermione and Draco into the 7th year potion lab, where they would be meeting the other members of Potioneers. To their surprise, they were the last ones there. 

“I thought we were fifteen minutes early.” Harry whispered to Hermione as they approached the center of the room. She shrugged, apparently too nervous to speak. She had spent the entire walk down to the dungeons talking about how important it was that she make a good first impression. Harry felt that she needn’t worry, but he let her rant anyhow. 

The lab was quite different from the other labs Harry had been in. To start, it was much smaller than they usually were. Instead of rows of benches and workstations with a chalkboard up front, there was just one rather funny shaped table. 

The table looked like a large rectangle, if just the perimeter of it was a table. Harry took in the structure and figured it was so Snape could walk around the center, observing more carefully what the students were doing on the other sides. 

Harry wasn’t completely surprised at the small room or funny table. The 7th year potions class was very advanced, and it was usually only taken by students interested in a career involving potion making. He had heard Eliza talking about it to Michal one day in the library; she was worried that Snape wouldn’t allow her into the course, as he was very picky about who he would teach at that level. 

None of the students sitting around the table looked up when the first years entered. They seemed to be engaged in an important discussion. 

“I maintain you have no right to have any opinion,” They could hear Eliza saying, sounding defensive. “Until you’ve tried it.” 

“We don’t need to try it, we can smell it”  Said a boy Harry didn’t recognize. 

“I get how people like different things, but it smells like melted dirt that's also burnt at the same time.” Said another boy who looked like he might be the oldest student there. 

As the first years drew nearer, Harry realized that Snape wasn’t in the room. He also realized that there were 3 open seats available, none of them sitting next to each other. The third thing he realized was that something did indeed smell quite foul. As Harry, Draco, and Hermione sat down, Draco pulled a face. 

“What’s that smell?” He asked the group, who had finally seemed to realize that the first years had arrived. 

“Its a -” 

“Don’t even ask mate, and never take a sip when she offers.” Alfie said, interrupting Eliza. He was sitting to the right of Draco. 

“It’s not even the smell, it’s the visuals, too. It looks like someone blew their nose into the cup, then threw up all over it.” Said a short, blonde girl sitting next to Eliza. 

“What an image.” Michal said, grimacing. 

“Picture this.” Eliza said, speaking over Blair who had just begun to insult whatever it was Eliza was drinking as well. “Someone recommended a book to Madam Pince, and she hasn’t read it yet. She’s so certain she won’t like it, she refuses to read it. Years go by, and her friend keeps recommending it to her, and she keeps saying no, thinking she’s much too good for it.” 

The older boy snorted, but Eliza ignored him. 

“On her deathbed, she cracks the book open and reads the first line. She’s so blinded by the pure knowledge and passion from the book that she just cries and cries knowing she missed out on a life altering experience because she thought the book looked like bogeys and throw up. ” She glared around at them all, appalled at the image. “And then she dies a miserable sad death. The end.” She finished. 

There was a pause before an older girl spoke. 

“I’m not seeing a connection.” 

Harry cracked a smile at this. 

“Oh bugger off.” Eliza said, taking another sip from her steel bottle. 

“That is quite enough, Ms. Thatchers, leave your foul smelling concoction in the corner.” Everyone looked up; Snape had arrived. 

Eliza slouched over to the corner and placed her jug on the floor before returning. Thankful, Harry began breathing normally once more, the bitter smell gone. 

“I presume you have used the sufficient time I allowed to introduce yourselves to the new members?” Snape asked, addressing the returning students with an eyebrow raised. 

“No sir, not yet.” Said the oldest boy. Snape didn’t look surprised. 

“Continue, then.” 

The potions master whisked away and sat at his desk. 

“Erm, ok then, Well we all know your names, but we’ll go around and say ours?” Said the oldest boy. “I’ll start. I’m Elijah Woods, a 7th year. I’ll be helping Professor Snape with some of the lessons this year.” 

Harry figured that the boy must have been a 7th year. He looked extremely comfortable, and hadn’t batted an eye when Snape arrived. Woods had been a student of Snape’s for seven years now, Harry wondered if he’d ever feel that comfortable with the potions master around. 

“I’m Michal, a fifth year.” Michal said, winking at the first years. 

They continued like this around the table. Harry made note of the names he didn’t already know. There was Thomas Graham, a slytherin 4th year, and Adeline Darby, the other 4th year who was in Ravenclaw. The only 6th year was Madeline Beckwith, who was a slytherin. 

Everyone else he had already met. Eliza used her introduction as an opportunity to explain what was in her cup. 

“It’s like muggle coffee, except it comes from Gryon Beans instead of Coffee beans.” 

She said this very quickly, as Elijah Woods was quick to interrupt her. 

“Okay… moving on to Alfie!” 

They had finished introductions and had moved on to trolls when Snape returned from his desk. The group fell silent, waiting for Snape to speak. Eventually, he did.

“Welcome to the 39th official year of Potioneers of Hogwarts. It’s a reflection of your work ethic and talent that has allowed you to be here.” 

The room was silent, and the air felt tense. Everyone seemed to feel it, that is, except for Alfie and Blair. 

Due to the oddly shaped table, there was nowhere in the center where Snape could stand and see all eleven of the students. He currently had his back turned to Alfie and Blair, who were mouthing along with Snape. Apparently, the man used the same introduction speech each year. 

“Far from a social club, Potioneers is a purely academic exploration. I have no interest in hosting social events or facilitating “connections” for you.” The man made a slight face as he said “connections.” 

“I will not put up with any sort of childish antics. House rivalries, petty squabbles, and trivial disagreements will not be tolerated. As a representative of Potioneers, you will behave as such, while you are with the group and while you are not.” 

Blair and Alfie had been mouthing the entire thing. 

“As an example of what not to do,” Snape started, a glimmer of something foreign in his eyes, “Refrain from mocking a professor while you believe he can not see you.” 

The two boys' mouths snapped shut, and they both turned red with embarrassment. 

Blair and Alfie couldn’t see it, but Snape showed a miniscule smile, barely noticeable. 

“Lastly I would like to add an addendum to what is expected of Potioneers members.” 

Everyone straightened up, and Snape paused. Harry could tell it was for dramatic affect. 

I wonder when he became a fan of theatrics. Harry thought to himself, amused. 

“If you wish to bring any sort of food or drink in the lab, ensure it is odorless.” 

…

It had been nearly an hour, and Harry's bum was beginning to sore. After Snape’s speech and Eliza's subsequent objections, Elijah Woods had taken over. The boy went over the rules of the lab, which were quite similar to the rules in the other labs with a few additions. Woods had also gone over requirements to remain in Potioneers, project proposals for the older students, and a brief and very vague schedule. 

Snape hadn’t addressed the group again, he seemed far more interested in the papers he was grading in his corner. When Harry whispered to the 6th year Slytherin, Beckwith, she had replied that Snape would be much more involved once potions were actually being made. 

Harry was leaving with Draco and Hermione when Snape’s voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Stay, Mr. Potter.”

Draco and Hermione paused, looking unsure, but Harry just shook his head at them. 

“We’ll wait for you outside.” Hermione said before leaving. 

They had been the last ones out, which meant Harry was alone with Snape. Harry figured it was more awkward to wait until Snape summoned him over than just to just go over to the man's desk right away. 

It had been less than a week that Harry had sat in front of Snape's desk after Harry collapsed, but it felt so much longer than that. Harry noticed that Snape looked better than he had that night, albeit tired. 

“You’ve met everyone?” Snape spoke after a few seconds of silence. 

“Er, yeah, mostly.” Harry said, thinking that he hadn’t really spoken to Adeline Darby, but the other new faces he had talked to at least a little bit.  

“Good.” Was all Snape said. The potions master was watching Harry with a strange look on his face. Throughout open potions, classes, and the recent events that had been happening, Harry felt like he was getting better at reading the man, yet he felt intimidated by the intensity of Snape’s gaze. 

“Was there anything else…” Harry trailed off, fingers wringing his hands together behind the desk. 

“I believe it would be prudent of you to surround yourself with the underclassman Potioneers members.” Snape said eventually. Harry thought for a moment, he knew what Snape was getting at. 

“How did you even know that we hang around Eliza and Michal?” Harry asked, curiously. Snape snorted. 

“I am a head of house, I know everything that’s going on.” 

“Okay, but why?” 

“Your job does not include asking questions, simply obeying what I say.” Snape said, slightly sharp. Harry frowned, why was Snape asking him this? 

“Well we don’t even initiate it, they sit with us.” 

“Find a new seat, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry just shrugged non committedly. The potions professor looked as if he was going to say something more about it, but decided against it. 

A few moments of silence later, Snape exhaled heavily. 

“You’re dismissed.”

Harry found that Draco was waiting for him, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. When Harry asked where she had gone, the blonde had just shrugged. 

“She said she wanted to do something quick in the library before curfew.” 

Harry walked Draco to the Slytherin common room, his friend was telling him about how he had found the kitchens, and the house elves were always willing to make food if you just asked. 

They bid farewell at the entrance to the slytherin dormitory, and Harry made his way back up the castle. 

Harry had settled himself into finishing his transfiguration essay in the near empty common room when Hermoine appeared in the portrait hole. She looked flushed, and Harry noticed it was a minute past curfew. 

“Where were you?” Harry asked. He knew before Hermione answered that whatever was going to come out of her mouth was a lie. 

“Nothing, just wanted to grab a book from the library.”  she said, lying miserably. Even without Spharrow’s intuition, Harry could alway tell when the bushy haired girl was being deceptive. 

Harry was making progress with his essay, and didn’t feel like prying, so he let it go. Before long, she had bid him goodnight and disappeared into the stairwell leading up to the girls dormitory. Harry settled back in front of the fire and began his conclusion paragraph. 

Chapter Text

The morning after Harry’s first Potioneers meeting, Dumbledore announced that the professors had found Samuel Shaw. 

Harry could feel it deep in his gut, whatever it was that they had pulled from the lake, wasn’t Samuel Shaw. 

…

The days leading up to Halloween, Halloween itself, and the week that followed, were all filled with curiosity and excitement. A lot of stuff had happened to Harry and his friends in the short period of time. Because of this, when the following month passed by with almost nothing of interest occuring, Harry found himself wishing for something, anything, to happen. 

The days had gotten chilly, and the leaf covered grounds soon began to frost over at night. It was already December, and Christmas break seemed closer than ever before. With the break approaching, the mood in the castle should have been lifting. Festive cheer should have been infecting the castle. To nobody's surprise, this wasn’t quite what was happening. 

Millie’s theory had been right; the Halloween cheer had been a mere bandaid on a much deeper wound. 

Instead of Christmas Spirit, the air felt heavy. Even the beginning of the quidditch season didn’t seem to be lifting the mood. Harry had never witnessed anything like quidditch, but even the novelty of it couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had been a constant companion throughout the weeks. 

Harry found himself spending most of his free time doing something potions related. 

Ron and Neville seemed aghast that Harry was willingly doing extra potions research on top of his workload, but Hermione and Draco were doing much the same. They found themselves at open potions at least three times a week, sometimes more. 

Harry really enjoyed Potioneers of Hogwarts. All of the students were welcoming, and never minded answering questions Harry had. They were also all very talented at potions, and Harry found himself overcome with amazement with what some of the older students were able to create. 

Snape was also a very different person with the Potioneers. He wasn’t quick to compliment, but Harry had never heard the man verbally approve of anything a student had created until he joined Potioneers. Snape covered most of the Potioneer lessons. They were fast paced and full of complex things that Harry still didn’t completely understand, but he felt himself getting better at Potions every day. 

The days Snape didn’t lead the meetings, Elijah Woods held lighter, more fun lessons. They were less content heavy, but Harry felt that he almost enjoyed these meetings more. Snape was hardly ever present at these meetings, and the other students were all much more lively and excitable without the Professor around. 

The one downside of Potioneers was that Snape’s expectations of Harry, Hermione, and Draco had increased significantly. They were no longer able to get by in their regular potions classes by just doing well; they had to be excellent. Another problem was that each of them were partnered with someone else, meaning they usually had to succeed in addition to babysitting whoever else they were working with. 

In the beginning, Ron and Neville had both been deadweights to work with, but lately they had been doing a lot better with second hand knowledge and help from Potioneers that the three members would share with them. 

Snape was incredibly hard to please, and Harry was left dissatisfied nearly every time he left class. He wanted to prove to Snape that he belonged in Potioneers. 

He could feel himself getting more and more frustrated with himself. He was certain that the mood in the castle wasn’t helping him, either. 

Harry was in the Library, like usual, talking to Eliza. Well, a better description would be that Harry and Draco were currently begging for a favor from the older girl. Harry was doing his best to ignore the stench coming from Eliza’s metal jug. 

“You guys know I can’t just get anything from the restricted section.” She said, slightly miffed at the interruption of her homework. “I need a permission slip and everything.” 

“Like you can’t forge one in an instant.” Draco accused. She frowned at him.

“That isn’t a very convincing argument.” She said dryly. 

“It’s not anything dangerous at all.” Harry said quickly, cutting off an undoubtedly sassy remark from Draco. Eliza raised an eyebrow. 

“What’s the name of the book, then?” 

“The magic of Memory.”  Harry said after a moment. She snorted. 

“You’re trying to tell me this has nothing to do with what Michal told you the night before Halloween?” 

“If we did, would you say no?” Harry asked shrewdly. She sighs. 

“I told him not to tell you guys about all of that. Did he tell you that each year he’s been here, he’s found something to tie into that crazy cult? He’s obsessed with it, and every year he believes  that he’s going to make the connection and catch them.” 

Harry shifted uncomfortably, he hadn’t known that actually. She continued. 

“I get it, things are weird right now.” She paused heavily.  “Hogwarts hasn’t had a death in almost a century. It’s bound to change things around here.” she sighed. “I just don’t want you guys getting caught up in Michals conspiracy theories. I love him, but he’s a bit paranoid.” 

“We didn’t realize.” Harry muttered. She frowned again. 

“If I get the book for you, will you promise not to get caught up in it all?”  She lowered her voice slightly. “Remember what Snape says anyways. Make a theory based on connections and facts, don’t jump to desperate connections and half facts to fit a theory.” 

Harry nodded. It was a paraphrase, but Snape did often say things like this, mostly when it was relevant to potion making. 

“We promise.” 

Eliza muttered something to herself, she had a habit of doing that, and stood up. Harry returned to their table where their friends were waiting. 

“What’d she say?” Theo asked. 

“She’s getting it.” Draco said, sitting down. 

“I still don’t think we should’ve asked her.” Hermione said darkly.

“Oh c’mon ‘mione, she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t think it was ok.” Ron said mildly. Hermione didn’t respond. Harry watched her for a moment, she was gripping her quill tightly, and her jaw was clenched. 

Eventually, Eliza returned to the table with the book in her arms. She placed it in front of Harry. 

“One more promise.” she said. 

“What?” 

“If there’s anything important, or dangerous in there, you’ll tell me.” 

The tip of Hermione’s quill had snapped from the pressure she was using on her page. She muttered an excuse and went to go get something to clean up the ink mess. Eliza paid her no mind. 

“Ok, we will.” Harry promised. She nodded and paused, as if she wanted to say something more. Harry had a feeling he knew what she was thinking. 

“It’s fine Eliza, we get it. You have O.W.Ls coming up, you have to focus. If we find anything serious we’ll tell you.” 

“Ok, good then.” 

Hermione returned a few minutes after Eliza left. She held a few napkins crumpled in her fists, but took her wand out and cleared the mess with a swipe. 

“Learn that from Snape?” Draco asked, sniggering. She just ignored him. Hermione’s last potion had gone awry and spilled over her cauldron. Snape had vanished it instantly, telling the girl to be more careful. She had been embarrassed for the rest of the night. 

“What is it with you and Eliza?” Millie asked suddenly, looking at Hermione. Harry too was curious about this, and wasn’t surprised that the dark haired girl had noticed as well, she was quite perceptive. 

Hermione sniffed. 

“I just think we should stick to the underclassmen is all.” 

“Bollocks. Michal practically wrote my history essay for me.” Ron said grinning. 

Hermione looked miffed, but didn’t say anything. Theo broke the silence that had spread throughout the group. 

“I think you guys should ask Hagrid about the dog.” Harry sighed, they had been over this a few times. 

“He’ll just deny it.” Millie dismissed. “And then he’ll wonder how we knew about it in the first place.” 

“He might even go to Dumbledore if he thought we knew something we shouldn't know.” Neville added. 

“Yeah but we’re never going to get anywhere without more information.” Theo argued. 

“And besides, Hagrids a wretch with secrets. Remember he was supposed to keep quiet about the events for Halloween, but he spilled his guts anyway.” Ron added. “If he tries to lie to us we’ll know, and we’ll probably learn valuable information with the way he reacts.” 

“Plus I don’t really see him snitching.” Theo said. 

“What will you even do if he tells you, huh? You’re just a first year, no one would take you seriously. Besides, you don’t even know enough magic to be able to do anything about it in the first place.” Hermione snapped. 

Millie eyed Hermione, speaking as if she was trying to diffuse a bomb. 

“The cons outweigh the pros, on an off chance Hagrid goes to Dumbledore or anyone, it’ll be a lot worse for us, and not worth the chance that we find something out about the dog.”

“If we know where Hagrid got the dog, it may tell us who’s trying to take him.” Theo retorted, eying Hermione’s glare. 

Hermione snorted. 

“You really are quite dull if you think the dog is what Quirrell was after. Did we not decide that Hagrid’s dog was protecting Nicholas Flamel’s stone?” 

“Well it made sense then, but we’ve no clue if the stone is even under the trap door.” Theo said. 

Harry wasn’t surprised when the boy said this. 

“All we have anyway is Harry’s dream. It could’ve just been a dream! Has anyone thought of that?”

“I’m not stupid, Theo. I can tell the difference between a regular dream and something else.” Harry said lightly. The boy in question raised his hands, as if in surrender. 

“I never said that, I just brought it up. Truth is, we really have no idea what Quirrell's motivations were.”

Harry didn’t respond to this, he was right after all. As far as Harry knew, Spharrow could simply be a symptom of some sort of mental disorder. Apparently, Hermione didn’t think so.

“Have you not been paying attention? Harry’s ‘dreams’ aren’t just that. I would have thought you’d notice by now.” Hermione said before slamming her book shut and standing up. She shrugged her bag onto her shoulder  and left without another word. Theo looked at Ron and the redhead just shrugged. 

“She’ll be fine, she’s probably just stressed. I’ll go talk to her.” Harry said, standing up as well. Harry bid goodnight to his friends and reminded Draco that there was a Potioneer’s meeting that night. It was technically voluntary, but those things weren’t ever really optional.

Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor tower. He doubted he’d find Hermione there, but he wanted to drop off his things before he went to Potioneers. As he walked, he found himself thinking back to the veiled warning Snape had told him back after Harry’s very first Potioneer’s meeting. 

Harry hadn’t really taken this warning seriously, as Spharrow knew that both Eliza and Michal were trustworthy. That day in the library was the first time Hermione had voiced something similar to Snape’s warning, but thinking back, Hermione had been acting odd towards the older students for a while. 

He made a mental note to ask the girl, and made off to find her. 

In Harry’s opinion, finding one of his friends after they left upset was an art. Each of his friends had different habits, different places they’d go to cool off. Harry had quickly checked all of the usual places that Hermione frequented, but didn’t find her anywhere. 

Finally, Harry made his way down to the potions lab. He was quite certain that if he wasn’t able to find Hermione in the other places, she would be in the lab. 

Harry swung open the door that led into the open potions lab, and saw Hermione bent over a cauldron in the far corner. She was the only student there that night, and Snape was sitting in his usual position behind his desk, scribbling furiously. 

As Harry entered, both of them looked up. Snape turned back to his work, but Hermione caught Harry’s eyes. She smiled tiredly, and Harry made his way over to her station. 

“Hi ‘mione.” Harry said quietly. 

“Hey.” She replied. She returned her focus to her potion, and Harry watched quietly, knowing that it was important to have few distractions when one was working. Harry recognized the potion she was making as the one that she had screwed up the last potions meeting. Harry wasn’t surprised she wanted to get it right. 

Harry too had destroyed his first potion in Potioneers, and he couldn’t get it out of his head until he had made it perfectly. 

When Hermione finished the hard parts of the potion, and was letting it simmer, Harry felt it was safe to speak. 

“It looks like you did it perfectly this time.” He complimented. She smiled wryly. 

“I added in the Lacewig flies too slow last time, I think I’ve got the timing down now.” 

“What happened in the Library?” He asked, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t prying. Hermione  sighed, gently stirring her potion. The liquid in her cauldron was thickening the exact way it was supposed too. 

“I’m just tired.” 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot.” Harry said quietly. She looked at him oddly before turning away again. 

Together they sat and watched the nearly finished potion turn a fantastic shade of purple before settling into a pale blue color. As they let it sit for the last step, Harry felt something knock gently against his head. He jerked up suddenly, surprised. 

It was Asimov, the floating bulb. Harry had never seen him outside of the large storage closet. Hermione looked surprised as well. 

“Hey.” Harry said as a greeting. The bulb didn’t light up like it usually did when Harry greeted it. Instead, the bulb knocked into Harry’s forehead again, rather urgently, 

Hermine and Harry looked at each other, unsure of what to do. 

“Do you think something’s wrong?” Hermione asked. Before Harry could respond, Snape appeared next to them like a hawk.  The man was quite perceptive when it came to spotting something off, possibly second only to McGonagall. 

“Watch your potion, Ms. Granger.” Snape muttered before following the bulb into the storage closet. Harry and Hermione took that as they weren’t being kicked out. 

“I wonder what’s wrong.” Harry said curiously. Hermione didn’t respond, she was chewing her thumbnail again, a clear sign that she was thinking hard. Before he could ask her if she had an idea about what could be wrong, she spoke.

“I talked to Professor Snape.” She said rather abruptly. She spoke quietly, aware that the man himself was just in the next room. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry asked,  surprised. 

“Well he sort of asked me not to.” She said lighty. “He mentioned someone had broken Asimov.” 

Harry was surprised. “Why would he not want me to know that?” 

“He didn’t say if he thought it was an accident or on purpose,” She said, ignoring Harry’s question. “But the context felt like he maybe thought that someone had tried to break him intentionally.”

They had been speaking in near whispers, not wanting Snape to hear them. They didn’t have to worry though, because Snape did not emerge from the closet. 

Hermione and Harry waited for several minutes, and it was nearly time for them to head over to Potioneers, when they decided that they should make sure the Potions master wasn’t dead or something equally horrible. 

They whisper argued for almost a minute trying to decide who would go in first, when eventually Harry lost. Chagrinned, he stepped into the dim closet, Hermione close behind him. 

Harry had been in the storage closet quite often because of Potioneers and open potions, so he was pretty familiar with the layout. As he entered he first went right, as there were only a few isles of potions to the right. 

With a quick glance down both directions, he quickly determined the right side was empty. He hesitantly started towards the left. He could feel adrenaline racing through his veins. It was completely silent in the room, not a sound to indicate Snape was inside. Despite this, Harry knew the closet well enough that he was sure there was no exit other than where he and Hermione had entered. 

Hermione was as silent as he was, and she followed him as he went further down to the left, checking both ways down the aisle ensuring it was empty. 

As they approached the last few isles, Harry froze. He could hear a faint hissing sound coming from the last aisle against the dark stone wall. He turned to look at Hermione, who had fear written all over her face. 

“Go.” 

Harry heard Spharrow’s voice. The fox sounded incredibly bored, and Harry found himself distracted with the idea of the fox relaxing at the park while Harry was facing down what he felt was a terrible beast of some sort or other. 

With a nudge from Hermione, Harry continued forward. As they reached the end and turned to face down the aisle, Harry froze again. 

“Do not make a sound.” Came Spharrows voice. 

“ Wasn’t really planning on it.” Harry thought back wryly. In front of him and Hermione, a few meters down the narrow aisle, was the largest serpent Harry had ever seen in his life. Its scales were a shiny black, and it was coiled around itself. It had to be at least 30 centimeters wide, and at least 6 meters long. The last bit of the snake was raised up above the rest of itself, and Harry could see that it was hissing at Snape. 

Snape was beyond the Snake, stuck between the stone wall and the increasingly angry serpent. The man was holding completely still and silent. 

Harry heard Hermione’s breathing behind him. She still hadn’t made any noise, and he was certain the girl recognized what snake they were dealing with. 

Harry was no expert on serpents, but he had learned a fair bit about them from doing a presentation on them when he was in primary school. He had been so interested, that he had once borrowed Hermione’s book Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them to read more about magical snakes. 

Because of this, Harry didn’t need Spharrow to inform him that Snape was currently facing down the Blind Boa. The Blind Boa was the most dangerous magical snake native to Europe, responsible for many muggle farm animal massacres. The danger of the Snake was that it was extremely aggressive.  

Luckily for Snape, the Blind Boa’s name came from the fact that the Snake had no eyes. The way the snake usually attacked its magical prey was because it could sense magic. Even luckier for Snape, the potions master had left his wand at his desk, meaning the usual concentration of magic he held with him at all times was currently absent. 

Harry supposed this was also unlucky, as he was sure the Potions Master was more than capable of taking care of the snake if he had carried his wand into the storage room. 

As it had happened, Harry and Hermione hadn’t brought in their wands either. 

When Harry and Hermione had appeared from behind the shelving, Snape's eyes had snapped up to them. Harry could tell from the mans glower that he was not impressed with their initiative to come and find him. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t say a word, the snake could still hear. 

Unfortunately, Harry’s mind was utterly blank of ideas. Snape was currently in a bad position, there wasn’t much he could do, and he could hear Hermione's breathing start to speed up; she was losing her edge. 

Harry didn’t blame her, the snake was quite terrifying. He willed her to calm down however, as they had learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts that dangerous beasts can’t sense fear, but they can respond to your emotional stress, as the body's natural core of magic starts to flux. Hermione didn’t calm down, and before Harry could think of anything to do, the snake turned it’s head to face him. 

“Oh god.” Hermione slipped, unable to help it, her voice trembling. The snake reared its head, hissing, and began quickly uncoiling and moving towards where Harry and Hermione were standing. 

Of course, at that moment, Harry’s leg froze. He willed them to move, to run, but he couldn’t get his feet to go. 

The snake was closing distance quickly, and Harry heard quite clearly as Snape declared loudly to “Run.” His voice made the snake falter, but it didn’t stop moving towards them. 

Harry could only watch as the snake approached with Snape hurtling towards them as well. The man was too far behind, he wouldn’t make it. 

“ Help me.” Harry thought desperately. He felt a pulse in his head, and then suddenly, his legs could move. 

Instead of running though, he stood up straighter, almost possessed. He could feel that he wasn’t in complete control of his body. 

Harry’s arm lifted of his own accord, and quite suddenly, the snake froze. He watched in awe as the snake lifted into the air, floating. It was hissing more and more, confused as to what was going on. Snape had stopped as well, staring at Harry. 

With a quick movement from his fingers, the snake twitched unnaturally, and dropped to the stone floor, dead. 

Harry felt strange, and was staring at his hand when he heard Hermione spoke. 

“Harry?” 

He turned around, and she gasped. Harry tried to open his mouth to speak, to tell her he had no idea how he did what he had just done, but he couldn't. 

“Harry, your eyes.” She said softly. Snape had arrived next to them, and he too looked at Harry. Harry knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t say so. 

“You wish to make yourself known?” 

Snape had spoken, and Harry was lost. He had no idea what that cryptic question meant, and by the looks of it, Hermione didn’t either. 

“He asked for help, Severus.” 

Harry had said those words, hadn’t he? Why? That wasn’t what he had meant to say. Harry found himself watching through his own eyes as something else was in control. 

“What happened, who did this?”  Snape demanded. 

“You did.” Harry spoke again. 

Before Snape could respond, Harry fell to his knees. He had suddenly been given control back, and he wasn’t prepared. He felt a similar pulse in his head as Spharrow drew back, and he could open his mouth now. He did so, gasping for breath. 

“Miss Granger, go fetch my wand.” Snape said. The girl nodded, worried, and scurried off quickly. Snape knelt next to Harry. 

“It’s over now, you’re in control.” The man said softly, putting a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry felt his breathing calm, and he was pretty much recovered by the time Hermione arrived with Snape’s wand. She had also brought Harry’s, and he took it gratefully. 

Snape had stood up and pointed his wand at the snake's body. With a flick, it was gone, as if it had never been in there before. 

“You should have never entered the storage room without permission.” The man said, turning back to the first years. Harry could tell the man was trying to be stern, but when he turned to face the two first years, he gave up. 

Hermione was sniffling, her arm around Harry's shoulders.

Harry could tell that he probably didn’t look too great either. He still felt a bit shaky on his legs, and could feel that he was as pale as a ghost. 

Harry felt a bit uncomfortable at Snape’s scrutinization. After a few moments, the hook-nosed man sighed, and began toward the exit of the storage room. 

“Come.” 

…

In the end, all three of them were late to Potioneers. Snape had told Harry and Hermione that they would be excused from the meeting, but neither of them really wanted to miss it. 

Snape sent Hermine and Harry over to the 7th year lab a few minutes before Snape would follow. He claimed he needed to do a few things before he came over, but Harry knew the man just didn’t want to have to answer unwanted questions. 

Harry was distracted the entire meeting, and he could tell Hermione was too. Harry knew with only one look to Draco that the blonde knew something was up. 

Hermione was silent the whole time as well, which was much more strange compared to his silence. By the time they were dismissed, Harry was quite sure the whole group knew something had happened. 

Before anyone could stop them, both Hermione and Harry left as soon as Snape dismissed them. Draco had been stuck talking to Thomas Graham, but Harry knew the blonde wouldn’t forget their strange behavior. Harry knew he’d have to explain eventually. 

Hermionewas jumpy the entire way back to the Gryffindor tower, and they bid each other goodnight rather quickly. 

Harry laid awake, scared that he’d see the giant snake if he closed his eyes. 

…..

Night of the first Potioneers meeting, three days after Halloween. 

Hermione didn’t know what to do. She was currently sitting in the empty 3rd year potions lab. She had just lied to Draco Malfoy, which was something pretty new to her. She always thought that lying was an abhorrent act and could never be justified. She didn’t quite feel the same about keeping secrets, she always felt “lying by omission” was an inaccurate statement. 

She had told Malfoy that she was going to the library before curfew, but she was actually just waiting for Malfoy and Harry to leave. 

This was all very impulsive. 

What am I doing? She asked herself for the fourth time. She didn’t have much time to ponder this, as she heard Draco and Harry pass by the door she was waiting behind, speaking in quiet voices. 

Hermione waited for as long as she could before she could change her mind, and left her hiding spot. Instead of turning right up towards the tower, she turned left deeper into the dungeon, back into the 7th year lab where Snape was. 

She came to a halt in front of the door. Her hand froze an inch away from the door, about to knock. She was suddenly seized by realization of what she was about to do. 

The well refined argument that had been going through her mind for the last week played again through her mind. It always led to the same conclusion, Snape was the only person it made sense to go to. 

With her mind set, she knocked. To her horror, it was so quiet she was certain no one could have heard it. 

Aren’t you supposed to be brave Hermione? Was her thought as she knocked again, much harder. 

After a moment of what Hermione was certain was surprised silence, she heard Snape speak. 

“Enter, Miss Granger.” 

His wards. She thought to herself before shaking her head. Surprisingly, knowing he knew who was at his door gave her confidence. She pushed open the door, and before she could lose her nerve, she spoke. 

“I’m sorry to bother you but I need to talk to you about Harry.” She blurted. 

Hermione faltered as she realized Snape was staring at her. He had been sitting at the square shaped table. It looked like he was writing a letter. 

Hermione felt a sweep of embarrassment, and almost ran out. She let out a breath and forced herself to stay. 

Snape turned back to his letter, stamped a dark green seal onto the lip of the letter, and turned it back around. He gestured to the stool across from him. 

“Sit.”

Hermione did as he said immediately. She was about to apologize when he spoke again. 

“Need I remind you, Miss Granger, that Professor McGonnagall is your head of house?” 

Hermione felt her temper rise ever so slightly. How could she get him to realize that McGonagall was part of the problem itself?

“I don’t think she can help.” 

She did her best to sound respectful, hoping Snape wouldn’t think she was trying to insult her transfiguration professor. She had her reasons, but she didn’t particularly want to share them with the man. 

“What is it you wished to discuss?” Again, a question, but it didn’t sound like one. 

“Professor, I know Harry’s being possessed.” 

“Those are serious claims, Miss Granger.” 

Hermione bit her lip. She was certain Snape knew about the fox, as he was the one who told Harry it’s name was Spharrow. Despite this,  she didn’t want to give Harry away, for she wasn’t certain that he was supposed to tell her about the things Snape had shared with him. 

She decided to just tell the truth, she did want his  help after all. 

“Professor, Harry told me that you told him that the fox's name was Spharrow, and I think I know what he is.” She said, cutting to the chase. 

The man eyed her, and she felt strangely vulnerable.

“Elaborate.” 

“Sir I found a book about old wizarding wives tales. Fables, fairy tales, things like that.” Snapes face was unreadable. “I recognized the name, Spharrow, but I couldn’t remember where I heard it.” 

“I presume you found  it?” 

“Well yeah, I did. Are you familiar with the story, “A tale as old as time?” 

“Vaguely.” 

“Well that’s where the name Spharrow comes from, and in the story, he’s a bloodred fox.” 

Snape looked thoughtful, which spurred Hermione on. 

“The fable is old and pretty common, and mostly it’s just that, a story. But in this book I found,” Hermione paused,  pulling out a wrinkled library book. “Spharrow is another name for the curse;  Well of Knowledge. At least, that's what this book said. I haven’t been able to find anywhere else that makes the same connection, but I think it’s right.” 

She couldn’t read the man's face, and couldn't tell if he was skeptical. 

“And you have reasons to believe this I suppose.” 

“It’s been almost 12 years since the end of the war. Traditionally it’s thought that it’s two years past the decade anniversary.” 

“If you had done enough research, you would know that if this was true, Mr. Potter would have had to have died. The Dark Lord attacked him 11 years ago, the timeline wouldn’t match.” Snapes tone was dismissive, and Hermione bristled. 

“I did my research.” She said angrily. “Sir.” she added after Snape raised his eyebrows. 

“I don’t think Harry died that night you-know-who attacked him, I think something happened more- well, more recently.” she said, hesitantly. 

“What would make you believe that?” 

“When he came to school, something was off with him, he was hiding something. But now, well now it’s like he doesn’t even remember anything that’s happened this summer.” 

Snape didn’t reply right away, he was once again scribbling down on the envelope, but Hermione could tell he was deep in thought. 

“Miss Granger, I would appreciate a straight answer to my first question.” he said eventually. 

Hermione paused, she didn’t really want to reveal everything she believed about this school, but she wanted him to take her seriously. Plus, thinking about it got her all riled up. She wanted someone to just listen to her!

“Draco Malfoy told me about the nightly Slytherin meetings, where you make sure all of them are in their dorms. He also told me about the wards, how you know immediately if a student leaves.” She said.

He was watching her closely, and Hermione had a feeling he knew where she was going with this, but it seemed like he wanted her to spell it out. 

“Well, we don’t have that. And as far as I’m aware, none of the other houses do. It’s not the headmaster’s doing, it’s yours. You’re the only head of house who even- “ She cuts herself off. She didn’t want to reveal too much. 

He didn’t respond, and the silence made her uncomfortable. She spoke again. 

“Harry Potter is smart, so smart it’s suspicious.” She put her hands on her hips. “ I’ve been thoroughly unimpressed with our other professors. What, do they just think Harry, who comes from a muggle home, just knows everything? Do they think he’s a walking textbook? Sure he reads a lot, but nobody could know as much as him!” She stopped and took a breath before continuing. “They’re all so wrapped up in how much he knows and how much he can do that they don’t even stop to wonder how!” 

Snape watched her ever closely, and didn’t speak for several moments after her outburst, when

“How do you know your Head of House doesn’t know if you’ve left the tower?” 

Hermione flushed at this. It didn’t take a genius to realize the question was a trap. She clamped her mouth shut.  

“Miss Granger, I am aware of Mr. Potter's situation, though your insight has been helpful.” The potions master said. “I have a request for you.” 

Hermione straightened up. 

“Yes sir?” She asked, trying to hide her eagerness. 

“I have told Mr. Potter I believe it’s best if he remains away from the older students.” The man paused. “I believe one of them tried to break the bulb.” 

Hermione tried not to gasp. She was amazed that the man was telling her this. 

“If you’ve already told him not to be around the older students, what do you want me to do?” She asked. 

“I was approaching that, Miss Granger.” Hermione flushed and clamped her mouth shut. “I do not believe your friend took my warning to heart, and it is of utmost importance he listens. Do you understand?” He asked, his voice quiet once more. 

Hermione thought so. She nodded. 

“I get it.” She said. 

“I will consider your words carefully. I must ask you to take your mind off of it. Remain by your friend, I will ensure his safety.” 

His words sounded entirely sincere, which surprised Hermione. This Snape seemed different then the one she knew. She wondered just how much Snape had interacted with Harry. 

“Thank you sir.” She said before standing up. She knows when she’s being dismissed. 

She returned to the Gryffindor tower, and did her best to hide what she did from Harry. He was sitting in front of the fire, scribbling on his essay. She knew he saw straight through her, but was grateful he didn’t pry. 

She fell asleep thinking about Snape’s demeanor, and the thought that maybe Harry had more people in his pocket then he knew.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up the Friday before the last week of break with the same feeling he had woken up the day Samuel Shaw was announced missing. Harry was nearly crippled with the anxiousness he felt, the sense of foreboding that something horrible was going to happen that day. 

Harry’s dreams for the past week had been nothing short of nightmares. His mind would frequently jump from horror to horror, reminding Harry of everything in his first term at Hogwarts that left him with a dark feeling of terror. 

When he was awake, he’d often snort at the dreams he had. They’d start with Harry staring down a giant serpent, jump to him being pulled away from his body and being possessed, then move on to a giant bloodthirsty three headed dog that strangely liked music. He found it a bit amusing that finding out he was being possessed by a fox of all things was the least of his concerns. 

He couldn’t find anything amusing now though, and he spent breakfast completely silent, trying to calm his nerves,  telling himself that nothing terrible was going to happen. 

He was ignoring the conversations his friends were having, they were all talking about how excited they were to go home for break, and how they felt it was well deserved with everything that was going on. 

Harry knew that if his friends had known he had no place to go for break,they wouldn’t be talking about it. As it was though, Harry had yet to inform them. 

Harry found his eyes wandering up to the high table. Dumbledore hadn’t been at meals since the morning he announced they had found Shaw. Along with him, Hagrid was also noticeably missing, but that might just be due to him taking up three people's worth of space.

Harry was curious, Hagrid had been gone for the last two days, which was the longest he had been absent from meals. In the back of his mind, he felt this might be important. 

The nerves that he was feeling didn’t subside. When Ron declared he was finished with breakfast, the first years left for their first class of the day. 

With Harry’s nightmares, he had been having a hard time sleeping. He found himself tired nearly all of the time. Despite this, Harry hadn’t fallen behind on his school work. He found that he barely had to apply himself, he just wrote and the things he wrote down were inexplicably correct. 

Harry followed his friends to History of Magic. As Professor Binns droned on and on, Harry found his thoughts drifting to Samuel Shaw. 

It had been several weeks since he was announced dead. The official story was that there was an accident, and he had drowned. Apparently, they had found his body in the lake. 

Harry's instinct was that whatever was pulled out of the lake wasn’t really Shaw’s body, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Shaw drowning in a lake wouldn’t make any sense. 

Harry wasn’t an expert, but he was pretty certain that a corpse wouldn’t mysteriously show up on shore after weeks of being hidden. He was also pretty certain that this knowledge wouldn’t be revelational, and that if he thought it was strange, the professors most certainly knew as well. 

This logic was why Harry felt that there was a chance everything would resolve itself. Despite Spharrow’s advice that Harry could trust Michal, Harry wanted to believe that Eliza was right. A paranoid student would be a much better outcome then a dangerous group with nefarious plans within the castle. 

Every time Harry had hoped that maybe Michal was paranoid, and maybe Dumbledore and the Professors would fix the whole thing, Harry thought about the night that Neville and Ron nearly went missing. There was no explanation for that; at least not one that Harry could think of. 

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by the scraping of stools and general movement. Binns had dismissed them without Harry realizing. 

He stood up and stretched, watching with faint amusement when Hermione flicked Ron on the head, waking him up. He followed dutifully behind his friends, not looking forward to forcing himself to pay attention in Transfiguration. 

The rest of Harry’s day went by much the same. He found himself drifting off in thought so many times that Hermione had begun to ask if he was tired. 

Lunch was a quick affair, and the first years marched off to Charms as their last class of the day. 

Flitwick had been ill the day previous, meaning he paired the Slytherins up with the Gryffindors, as the Slytherins had missed their lesson. This meant that Harry and the others could sit with Draco, Theo, and Millie, who had all already found a table when they walked into class. 

Harry, whose anxiety hadn’t eased since breakfast, was ready to go to bed. He kept waiting for a shoe to drop, for something to fulfill what his chest was telling him was going to happen, but nothing did. By dinner, Harry was starting to wonder if he was simply ill, or maybe he was just confused. 

There was a Potioneers meeting that night, and by the time Harry and Hermione had left the Gryffindor Tower, Harry was feeling as if the day may pass with nothing of note occurring. 

As they made their way down towards the dungeons, Harry let Hermione talk his ear off about something in regards to Charms. He was only 25% listening, but Hermione was accustomed to talking with a partially listening wall. 

“Late dinner?” Hermione said. Harry looked up, surprised by the sudden change in topic, when he came face to face with Draco. The blonde had just come from the Dining Hall, which would be nearly empty at the hour. 

“We were in the library longer than we thought.” He said, shrugging. Before they could turn back down towards the dungeon, they heard footsteps approaching from a corridor to their right. Harry could smell Eliza’s drink before he could see her. 

“Hey.” She greeted. Harry felt Hermione tense slightly next to him. He had forgotten to ask her about that. 

“Where’s Michal?” Draco asked curiously. 

“He’s already in the lab, I had some other work I had to finish.” 

“Did you really have to bring your…” Hermione trailed off, looking at the steaming bottle in which Eliza’s drink was being held. 

“Yes, actually.” 

With that, they made their way down towards the dungeon once more. The now familiar pathway felt strangely peaceful. It was dark, and only small lanterns on the walls illuminated their path. The damp air usually felt musty and thick, but it seemed almost pleasant tonight. 

They didn’t make it very far. 

Harry had time to feel a small pang of pity for Eliza, who was probably growing grey hairs at this point, before he found himself doubled over, clutching his head. 

A violent scene pulsed behind his eyes. It was Quirrell, and the man was dying. Harry didn’t study the surroundings, but he had no doubt where the man was lying. The third floor corridor had haunted Harry’s dreams enough times that he recognized it at once. 

Quirrell’s face was pale, blood seeping from his eyes. His face was frozen despite the rest of him twitching unnaturally. Harry could feel the thick scent of blood filling his nostrils. 

Harry recognized the expression the dying man wore, it was terror, and as quickly as it had come, it went. Harry was left holding his head in his hands, kneeling over. 

It took Harry several moments to gather his bearings. His heart was pumping wildly in his chest, and he couldn’t calm his breath.

Harry realized someone was shaking him gently, and looked up to meet Hermione’s eye. 

Harry must have looked terrible, because he watched her face visibly pale at the sight of his expression. 

“What’s wrong Harry?” She whispered, her voice trembling slightly. 

Quirrell's body flashed back into Harry’s vision for a moment. The scent of death was still thick in Harry's throat, and he stood up shakily. 

It occurred to him with a sense of certainty that he had just witnessed the future, not the present. With this thought echoing around his head, he turned back the way they had come and began running. He didn’t spare a glance behind him, but he knew that at least Hermione was following him. 

Harry knew the way by heart at this point, and didn’t need to pause or ask Spharrow for directions to the third corridor. It occurred to him briefly that Quirrell may have been attacked by the giant, three headed dog, and that running straight for it may not be the best idea, but the thought wasn’t enough to slow him down. 

Another thought occurred to him as he was sprinting through the empty corridors. Once more, it seemed the castle was abandoned, neither teacher, student, nor cat roamed the halls, which felt off at this hour. 

Within minutes, Harry found himself panting outside of the entryway into the third floor corridor. Seconds later, Hermione, Eliza, and Draco appeared next to him, clutching stitches in their sides and breathing heavily. 

Harry didn’t let them catch their breaths or demand answers, he turned towards the door and tried the knob. It opened without any fuss, and Harry stepped inside. 

The first thing Harry noticed was the sound of a soft melody floating through the corridor. It was a melancholic tune, something Harry had never heard before. It gave a sort of nightmarish atmosphere, as the second thing Harry noticed was the smell. 

It was unmistakable, the scent of death. 

The third and final thing Harry noticed before the rest of his friends could step past the threshold, was the color of the walls. It was as if someone doused the room in blood, the floor, walls, and parts of the ceiling were streaked red. Even the lanterns had blood splattered all over, meaning the light in which they could see was tainted red as well. 

It was all Harry could do not to freeze.

We’re too late. He thought, horrified. 

“Bloody hell.” He heard from behind him. He turned, half a mind to tell them to stay outside, when he realized they had all already joined him in the corridor. Hermione’s face was pale, her eyes darting around in fear. Eliza was disgusted, her face turned up from the smell, and Draco was expressionless, as if he had recoiled inwards. 

Harry’s attention was caught once more by a sound of movement coming from the opposite end of the corridor, so quiet that Harry was certain he shouldn’t have been able to hear it. 

He turned back to his friends. 

“Stay here.” He said, his voice sounding a lot braver than he felt. 

He started towards the other end, pointedly ignoring the giant, snoring, three headed dog that was curled up on the right side of the hall. It was snoozing to the sound of a harp playing itself.  Harry figured it must be charmed, and that it was responsible for the music. It was sitting right next to the dog's second head.  Harry hugged the left and walked past it, silent. 

At the far end, right next to where Harry remembered the trapdoor to be, was a crumpled figure. Harry had no doubt who it was. 

As he drew closer, he heard Eliza speak again. 

“Oh God .”

They were now standing less than two feet away from Quirrell. He was lying face up, his arms twisted oddly, and his legs bent in shapes far from normal. Like in Harry’s vision, the man wore an expression of horror, and there was blood pooling under his eyes. The man was so unnaturally pale that he wasn’t surprised when Hermione spoke. 

“Five liters.” She spoke, her voice a terrified whisper. “We’re supposed to have five liters of blood in our body,... I think he was - “ She broke off, not needing to finish what she was saying. Harry had the feeling that the blood lining the corridor was all courtesy of Quirrell. 

Harry was still, frozen to the spot, and he watched as Eliza and Hermione began approaching the man. 

Harry watched with faint horror as Eliza knelt next to Quirrell, who was twitching every few moments, and pressed her finger into the man's neck. 

“What’s she doing?” Draco asked, breaking his silence. 

“Checking for a pulse.” Hermione replied automatically. Her habit of answering questions seemed to be intact.  

“What for?” 

“It’s to tell if he’s alive.” 

Harry felt it was quite obvious that if the man was still alive, he wouldn’t be for much longer. 

As Harry stood and watched Eliza lower her ear towards Quirrell's face to presumably listen for breathing, Harry’s head exploded with pain again, and something new pulsed between his eyes. 

It was the corridor they were standing in, except it looked as it had the first time Harry had seen it, without the lingering smell and appearance of murder. Harry could hear voices, at least three distinct ones, coming from one of the classrooms attached to the corridor, maybe 5 meters back from where Harry knew Quirrell's body was now lying. 

Like the vision he had in the dungeons, it went away just as quickly as it had come. Harry came to his bearings quicker this time, and realized he had collapsed to the floor. Bony arms were holding him, as if someone had caught him as he fell. 

“What did you see?” Harry heard Draco’s voice in his ear. The blonde must have stopped Harry from falling. 

“We need to hide.” Harry said, his throat scratchy. 

“Why?” 

“Draco, we have to hide right now.” Harry said, more urgently. The realization of the meaning of what Spharrow just showed him was beginning to dawn on him. 

“Eliza.” Draco hissed, with more urgency in his voice than Harry could muster. 

“We have to get help.” Eliza said, turning around at Draco’s voice. She faltered when she saw the two boys' expressions. 

There was some sort of unspoken communication between Draco, Hermione, and Eliza, that Harry didn't quite understand, and he didn’t have the energy to contemplate it at the moment. Harry was relieved when Eliza drew away from Quirrell without any argument. 

Draco helped Harry to his feet, and Harry led the way back towards the stairwell. Instead of turning out of the door and leaving, he led them to the classroom directly across the stairs. He could sense the confusion behind him, but none of his friends said anything. 

Once they were all inside, Harry turned and locked the door behind him. 

“Translucens Veto.” Harry whispered with a swish of his wand. The spell, in which Harry had no idea where or how he knew it, turned the solid door translucent. The four students had complete visibility of the entrance to the corridor, as well as the stairwell beyond. 

There was silence for several minutes. None of his friends spoke, and Harry watched intently, certain that something was going to happen. 

Something did happen. It was quick, so fast that if he blinked he may have missed it. Two figures emerged from deeper in corridor. They were dressed in all black gowns, with black caps that pointed high in the air.

Harry hesitated to say they were running, it seemed more as if they were floating lightly above the floor. However they were moving, they were moving fast. The two figures disappeared out of the corridor and down the stairwell before Harry could see any identifying information. 

Harry turned around to face his friends. 

“They were in the classroom, across from Quirrell.” 

Hermione gasped. 

“Did they hear us?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry paused, listening intently. Something else had changed, it was eerily silent. The music that had been playing was no more, and Harry could hear the faint shuffles of what could only be the giant dog waking up. 

“Let's go, before the dog wakes up completely.” Harry muttered. He was fairly confident that the two figures wouldn’t hang around. 

With this, the four quietly crossed the corridor out into the stairwell, and Harry shut the door firmly behind him. 

“Oh Harry.” Hermione whispered, her voice trembling. Hermione’s face was lined with tear streaks. She was clearly terrified, and it wasn’t just her. Draco was as pale as a ghost, and Eliza looked uncharacteristically serious. 

“What should we do?” Draco asked. “Just go back to our house and pretend nothing happened?” 

Eliza shook her head, she seemed to be calming. Harry found himself looking to her, like Draco and Hermione were now doing. She suddenly seemed much older than Harry. 

“I’ll tell Snape. We’ve missed Potioneers, and he’ll want an explanation. You three go back to your houses. Snape will tell Dumbledore, and they can deal with Quirrell.” 

“What about those people we saw?” Hermione asked, scared. This time, Eliza turned to Harry. She pursed her lips. 

“Harry, do you think they saw us? Do you think they know what we’ve seen?” 

Harry thought hard. He didn’t have to wait very long to feel the telltale pull of Spharrow. 

“They know we saw, but they don’t know who we are.” Harry said, certain. 

“Right. Well then, we have nothing to worry about.” She said, straightening up. “I’ll tell Snape everything that happened, and he can decide what to do.” 

“Don’t wander, go straight back.” She added in an afterthought, as she turned to the stairs. 

“Hadn’t planned to.” Draco muttered. The three first years followed after Eliza, and turned down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. None of them spoke, not even when Draco clambered through the portrait hole with Hermione and Harry. 

Harry knew Draco wouldn’t want to be alone, but also knew that if they said anything, the blonde would be too embarrassed to say it aloud. 

The common room was relatively empty, with just a few students out doing work. Neville and Ron hadn’t made a habit of  staying up for Harry and Hermione to return from their Potioneer meetings, as they often ran late. Tonight, though, the two boys were seated next to the fire, cross legged on the carpet. 

Harry figured it probably wasn’t yet past curfew. Seeing the aftermath of Quirrell’s murder seemed to throw off Harry’s perception of time, it had felt like it had been hours, but he knew Potioneers probably wouldn’t be dismissed for a few minutes. 

Ron was joking about something or other, watching Neville deliberate over his next move upon the chess board between them, when they noticed Harry, Hermione, and Draco had returned. 

“Hey Malfoy!” Neville said, slightly surprised to see the blond. It only took a few seconds for Neville and Ron to realize something was wrong. 

Their chess board sat abandoned next to the fire as the first years sat together in a tight circle, listening raptly to Harry as he explained what had just transpired. 

Ron and Neville didn’t question anything Harry said. One look at Hermione and Draco was all the convincing they needed. 

Silence fell thickly between them once Harry finished explaining what happened. Neville and Ron had both become pale, all jokes from just a few minutes previous were forgotten. 

“I don’t understand your second vision.” Hermione said, breaking the silence. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I just don’t get how you knew that those two figures were still there.” She said, her voice quiet. “I mean like it could have been from before, how did you know that they hadn’t left?” 

“I heard three people, if  one of them was Quirrell, well then there must have been two other people involved. Quirrell was still –” Harry trailed off slightly. “He was still.. You know, moving.” 

“More like twitching.” Draco said, his voice slightly disgusted. 

“Twitching, moving, whatever. He hadn’t been dead very long when we arrived.” Harry thought for another moment. “Well that, and also the fact that the harp was still playing. If whoever killed Quirrell wanted it to look like the dog had done it, they would’ve taken the harp with them when they left.” 

“I didn’t even think of that.” Hermione muttered. 

“So who do you think those people were?” Ron asked. 

“Who what people were?” Asked a voice from behind Harry. The first years all jumped in surprise. They had been speaking quietly, but Ron’s questions had apparently been loud enough to overhear.

Harry turned around to come face to face with Fred and George, Ron’s older brothers. They were wearing their characteristic, identical grins. 

“You guys are clearly talking about something “serious”, and you must have thought no one would notice an enemy in our common room.” Fred said, eyeing Draco. His voice was light, but Harry could tell he was partially serious. 

“I hope ickle Ronnie hasn’t been getting into trouble…” George added. 

None of the first years spoke. Draco was eying Fred with a frown. 

“There are no rules saying he can’t be here.” Hermione said, speaking first. 

“Yeah besides, it’s none of your business.” Ron added, annoyed. 

Silence fell for a few seconds. Harry watched Fred and George’s faces fall into something more serious. 

“Well, don’t do anything stupid.” Fred said, serious. 

“Yeah sure, that means so much coming from you guys.” Ron said, snorting. 

“We’re serious.” George spoke. 

“If something is actually wrong, don’t do anything stupid.” Fred finished. 

Harry could tell that the redheads were concerned with the expressions on the five first years faces. Harry wasn’t particularly good with hiding his emotions, and Ron and Neville wore their hearts on their sleeves. Fred and George weren’t stupid, Harry was sure they could tell something was truly bothering them. 

Despite this, Harry didn’t feel it was wise to tell them. There were already too many people involved, and Harry felt the twins may not be the best at keeping secrets. 

“Don’t worry, we won't.” Harry promised. The twins looked at him. Harry remembered the first day he had properly met the two boys, they were teasing him about something or other, and Harry had accidentally called Fred by his name. Harry wasn’t sure how he knew Fred was Fred and not George, but he never had had any issue telling them apart. For some reason, this seemed to glean respect from the two older boys. 

So Harry wasn’t surprised when the two boys just nodded and turned away, not questioning the first years any further. 

“Blimey.” Ron said, his brows furrowed. “I’ve never seen them let go of something like that.” 

Harry shrugged, his thoughts elsewhere. 

… 

Harry hadn’t realized he had drifted off until he found himself lightly swinging at the now familiar park. 

It had gotten late, and Harry and his friends were getting tired. Their plan was to stay up, as they were certain Dumbledore or some other professor would burst in at some point, demanding explanations. 

It never happened, and Harry's friends had begun to fall asleep one by one. Harry had so many thoughts whirling around his head, he heard each one of their breathing even out. 

Harry must have drifted off as well, and he found himself watching the fox stretching. 

“Hullo.” Harry said, dragging his feet in the woodchips to slow himself down. 

“Hello Harry.” Spharrow said pleasantly. 

“Erm.. “ Harry trailed off awkwardly when the fox didnt say anything. 

“You’re wondering why you’re here.” 

“Well, sort of.” Harry started. “I just mean that usually when I’m here you have something to tell me.” 

“Well observed, I do have something to share with you.” 

“What is it?” 

There was a heavy pause. 

“You’re getting very close, Harry.” 

“Close to what?” Harry asked, confused. 

“Close to crux of it.” Said the fox blithly. 

“You’re not really being clear.” Harry said, frustrated. 

“I never claimed that it would be easy, I can’t be expected to just tell you what will happen” 

“We could’ve helped Quirrell, he could be alive right now if you had told me with enough time..” Harry muttered, he was liking the fox less and less. 

“ Professor Quirrell, Harry.” Spharrow said, sly. 

“Well not anymore, seeing as he’s sort of unfit for the job now.” Harry shot back, his brows furrowed. 

The fox ignored Harry’s bite, looking rather amused. 

“It’s one like him that you’re looking for. The key to all of it.” Spharrow said conversationally. 

“Like him how? Do you mean the Mnemonics? Was he one of them?” Harry asked, sitting up straight. 

“Didn’t I just say I wasn’t going to just tell you?” 

“Well you didn’t give me much I didn’t already know.” Harry muttered. 

“Is that how you really feel?” 

Harry frowned. He wasn’t really in the mood to play games with the fox, not tonight. Harry faintly wished he was awake. 

With a snap, Harry was back in the common room.

He didn’t  really have time to ponder the exchange, nor tell Hermione about it. His mind immediately went to Quirrel, and how strange it was that no teacher nor headmaster had awoken them in the night, demanding explanations.

…

Earlier that night

Snape knew something was wrong. 

It was mostly a culmination of several things. The first of which was when the two twin dunderheads were the first to arrive at the potions meeting.

 Snape hadn’t been following the time, and the usual indicator that he had an hour before the meeting began never arrived. 5th years Thatchers and Heinz had made a habit of working on their own projects for  roughly an hour before potioneers. It must have been the first time in three years that they hadn’t showed up.

 The lack of the girl’s foul smelling drink and her quiet friend was a faint relief that morphed into suspicion the longer they remained absent. 

The second red flag as the meeting approached was the missing first years. Snape had found he had developed a vested interest in the well-being of a certain possessed child, a child who had managed to collapse in a dangerous manner nearly every chance he got. He presumed it was this interest that made him hyper aware of the time passing without the three, very loud first years bursting in through the door.

The final realization came right after Snape dismissed the attending Potioneers, when the 5th year Ravenclaw knocked on the door. 

Yes, Snape had known something was wrong. The expression on the girl's face was the exact same as it was the night she had found Samuel Shaw’s “body” in the lake.