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Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 1: Wild Eyes

He had wild eyes. A simmering, emerald green that practically glowed with power and danced with knowledge. He had a handsome face too, with pale skin, pink lips, and gently arched eyebrows. The lady at the orphanage called him 'ethereal,' but Harry knew better. Fragility was only an appearance. He learned early on that survival demanded more than a brain. The Dursley's hadn't particularly concerned themselves with his intelligence. No, he had to have something more than his wits about him if he were to survive there, and thus, he perfected the wonderfully useful art of deception.

Harry lifted himself off of the thinning lawn, brushing dried grass from his second-hand jeans as he did so, before starting the short journey back to Penelope's House, the orphanage the Dursley's had abandoned him in when he was four. Mrs. Haydn, the manager of the orphanage, would be cross with Harry should he come any later to dinner, and yet be decidedly irritated should he come any sooner. Her reasoning was that Harry scared away potential parents if he hung around the orphanage. People typically wanted young children, and they'd feel pressured to adopt Harry if he were present. Harry wouldn't want to be taken out of guilt, would he?

And so, Harry was stuck outside for the most part of the day, minus meals and when he went to bed. Though her pitiful justification hardly convinced Harry, even he could not deny the fact that freaky things happened around him. Like garden snakes hanging around the back door, or having the entire hall suddenly clean when it was his turn to scrub it, or summoning things so that he'd have them right beside him without even knowing how they got there. Mrs. Haydn didn't say that was the reason she wanted him out, but she needn't have. Harry knew- everyone knew.

But why should he deny it? As long as he could control it. Why pretend things didn't happen when they did?...at least in his imagination. Harry had a rather vivid imagination; at least, that's what Mrs. Haydn insisted. Sometimes he thought he could see owls flying, despite it being the middle of the night, and sometimes he saw owl breeds whose natural habitats were nowhere near London. When he told Mrs. Haydn, she said he simply dreamed of owls, and so, everything else that was wonderful in the world, that only he could see or believe, well, those were dreams too.

Harry had previously been doing some quality daydreaming on Red Mill's Hill, smiling at the clouds that sifted past like soulless specters keeping watch. He often came to the hill when Mrs. Haydn just couldn't take it anymore and demand he get some fresh air for his own health- which was every day. Harry slipped his hands into his sweatshirt pocket- a gray hand-me-down ten years in the lost and found bin- and shivered as a gust of cool November air hit him through his clothes. It was only ten minutes until he reached the house.

"Wonder if she's making something hot." Harry wondered to himself, pushing open the old crooked door. The building didn't have a competent heater, but it was still warmer than the outside. He basked in the warmth, taking his hands from his pockets because he knew that it made the other kids nervous if he had something hidden in there. Kids could be really thick sometimes. Harry owned nothing to hide. Further into the room, Mrs. Haydn was busying herself with the dinner preparations by setting the table for twenty-seven little mouths. At the sound of the door opening, she looked up, graying hair falling into her eyes, to find Harry standing in the doorway. For once, her heart didn't fall when it was Harry - she actually had something to say to the boy.

"Well come in, Harry, don't just stand there! You could help me with the bowls too, here, take a stack." Her voice was crackly from years of cigarette smoking, although she quit a while back because her doctor was a nag. Yet, she was sixty something, and fifty something years of smoking did not leave your voice in peace even after you quit.

Registering her almost pleasant tone of voice, Harry gingerly approached the table before doing as bid, drawing out an almost satisfactory grunt from his supervisor. Mrs. Haydn wasn't a disagreeable person really, but something about that 'Potter boy' threw her for a loop. He seemed so odd- like he belonged in a completely different world- and she got the oddest sensation of goose bumps when around him. She had told herself she was being silly before, but four years after receiving the poor kid from his aunt and uncle, and she was wholly convinced something was wrong with the boy.

For one, he didn't fit in. The other kids would listen to him like they would an adult- with a smidgen of respect that amounted to nothing come another five minutes. He didn't play with the others, preferring to scamper off to god-knows-where when she demanded he get up from his book and play. And that was another thing: the books! Penelope's House was just down the road from the nearest library, and Harry frequented the place often. Which didn't alarm Mrs. Haydn too badly, for she knew Harry needed books to stimulate his young mind.

No, what bothered her most was the ability at which he read. Last week had been The Count of Monte Cristo, this week, it was The Lord of the Rings. The child was eight. Eight for goodness' sake! Mrs. Haydn didn't know what to make of it. It seemed impossible for him to understand everything, but he answered every question she threw at him- in an attempt to get him to realize how little he truly did understand- and he answered them, even going insofar as to explain intricate character personalities. Peeling away layer after layer of appearance versus internal personalities versus conception. If anything, it only proved to show Mr. Haydn how little she understood Harry...and classic literature. She chalked it up to his being a child prodigy- or having some high functioning autism of sorts, but still, even with that, something wasn't quite right.

"Mrs. Haydn? Mrs. Haydn?" Harry asked politely, hesitating whether he should tap her or not. She had been unresponsive for a few minutes, and Harry had half a mind to call the police.

"Yes, Mr. Potter? What is it?"

"The table's ready. Should I go and fetch the kids?" His language was much advanced too, Mrs. Haydn noted, very formal, and he seemed to separate himself from the other kids too by referring to them in such an apathetic manner.

"In a minute, Harry. I've got to tell you something." She took a deep breath, wondering rapidly why it was that she was so nervous. He was a kid after all, he couldn't detect her excitement.

"What?" Harry asked her with an innocently open face. But being around him for so long, Mrs. Haydn was able to pick up the slight narrowing of his emerald eyes.

"There was a man who came today. He wants to adopt you!" she squealed happily.

Harry let his face go blank. No emotion. No emotion. Someone wanted him. There was hope. He wasn't forgotten. No emotion. No emotion! "Um, Harry?" She knew that look and her eyes widened in fear. "Harry?"

And just like that, the moment was gone. She relaxed as the world fell back on its axis. But just for a moment, well, silly as she was, she thought she felt a breeze. How silly! There was no wind in here!

"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Haydn. You were saying?"

"Well, yes. I was saying that someone wants to adopt you."

"Me?" Harry gasped, not even having to fabricate his astonishment. "Me?"

"Yes, you Harry." Mrs. Haydn smiled, and she thought she saw Harry quirk a lip up. That was good: if the boy wanted to be adopted too, then things would go so much smoother...

However, Harry's thoughts were far from coinciding with her conclusions. Happy? Why should he be happy? At first, maybe. But then he took a step back to analyze it, and suddenly, it made sense. Mrs. Haydn wanted to be rid of him. She wanted it so bad she probably recommended him to every visitor who came. His eyes widened fractionally as he was hit with another epiphany: He was being forced on him. The man didn't really want him, and once Mrs. Haydn was gone and rid of him, his new guardian would kick him out also, demanding a nicer child. One without so many issues...Harry almost sniffled at this thought, but managed to keep his face schooled into a blank mask of innocence. Practice made perfect, did it not? Mrs. Haydn seemed to buy the act, for she visibly relaxed, her wrinkles ceasing to crease quite so much on her forehead, and her shoulders sagging down. Yes, this way it would be easier. If she thought he wanted to go, she wouldn't suspect a thing when he made a run for it. With his plan firmly in place, he could only now hope that dinner would be as rewarding.

.oOo.

The next morning found Harry Potter wide-eyed and beaming at his soon to be ex-supervisor. All the younger kids were still asleep and the older kids were already playing outside.

"Mrs. Haydn, I'm going to miss you. I appreciate your caring for me." Harry told her candidly, letting warmth flow through his words. "But...could I have some time to say good-bye? Take back the Lord of the Rings book and say bye to Mr. Ted, the librarian?" His eyes were docile now. A soft, tame sage that melted Mrs. Haydn's heart. How could she deny him?

"Alright..." she agreed with some reluctant, "but the man's coming in an hour, and something tells me he'll be punctual. So be back by noon, got it?"

Harry nodded eagerly, booked tucked safely under his arm, and ready to leave this isolated world for good.

"I promise, Mrs. Haydn." he said, but smirked on his way out. How the lady could be so blind was beyond him! Honestly, spending some quality time with the librarian? Who bought that crazy nonsense?

Harry held the book tighter in his hands; it was "The Return of the King" where Aragorn had taken back his rightful place, amazing everyone as he had kept himself hidden under numerous alibis for the majority of his existence. He was known as so many things, but Harry always thought of him as just Strider. Just that guy in the room that no one ever thought to pay two thoughts to... He was Harry's idol.

The book he held was worn from countless readings, a hard-back with a scratched off cover and imprinted title that was losing its ink. But Harry didn't mind one bit. Looks could be deceiving, but the content of the book didn't change, much like Strider, and much like Harry. He supposed that's why he was so keen to protect what little he was. As much as he liked to indulge himself with childish fantasies of wielding magic staffs and defeating evil dark lords, Harry knew he just wanted to save himself from more hurt. Pretend to be someone you're not, and no one can hurt you. Not the real you. So Harry had spent the last two years molding his outward appearance to fit that of a polite and docile little boy. But inside, he was a secret king. The idea of having an alias sprouted much around the time of his fascination of magic stories. If he were to be a wizard, a great Light wizard like Gandalf, or a Dark Lord like Sauron, what would he be called? And if he were so called that, what would he look like?

Harry knew it was only a fantasy, juvenile at best, but he let himself play in it like one would a sandbox. The sand always shifted. His mental playground was alive.

Approaching a small trickling stream, a bit further down from Red Mill's Hill, Harry sat down to rest, legs folded against his chest as he gazed at the water running over the large smooth pebbles.

If he were a wizard...if he could be anyone he wanted to be, far away from Penelope's House, and far away from ignorance and isolation...Who would he be on an adventure? He had thought about this before. Many times actually, ever since he determined he was different. He looked at his distorted reflection in the bubbling stream and smiled.

"Hasan." he said to himself, then giggled. It sounded so unique, as it should be, for he made it up with the garden snakes one day. They enjoyed the sibilant sound and so did he. He wanted it to be his, and he knew it was him, but...it was different. "Hasssan." he whispered possessively, falling into the tongue of the snakes. The 's' lingered on his tongue. "Hassssan."

The name just seemed right for him- even if it was just a mask to use inside his own mind. He giggled and looked at the water again, only to open his mouth in mute horror.

A boy, his age, with medium-length brown hair and jaded green eyes, so dull it scared him, gaped at him through the water.

That can't be me- can it? he thought panicked. Harry lifted a hand to his face, and the reflection did much the same. Oh, for the love of life! But it was him. Change me back! Change me back! He shouted over and over in his mind, before he felt a familiar tingling through his body. When he cracked open his eyes again, it was only he who sat there, alone next to the stream.

Relieved, but now extremely curious, Harry wondered if he could do it again. He tapped into this strange power once more, squeezed his eyes really tight, and opened them to find that peculiar image of that boy that was him.

Harry knew he was different- ever since he woke up on the roof with no recollection of how he got there- but he remembered a full moon. Beautiful, bright, and enchanting. No matter how it was that he got there the view had been worth it. But eight years of continued bouts of this-this magic, and he began to suspect something wasn't right. He just couldn't be normal, could he? He distanced himself from the kids, talking with Mrs. Haydn only when necessary. He wasn't sure why. He just did.

Harry picked up the book left fallen by his side. Oh, if only it were true. If only he really did have magic. But Harry knew better than that- he knew he had some sort of medical condition of hallucinations- Mrs. Haydn said so- and knew he was just imagining things... But that was his favorite thing to do. Dreaming. And now, with this new discovery, he could truly be just Hasan the wizard, the secret king among kings, and never have to return to orphan Harry again.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 2: The Leaky Cauldron

Bent by the stream with his book, Hasan pondered where he should go from here. The orphanage wasn't too far off from 'civilization' though in itself, it was pretty isolated. Hasan knew that his best chance of survival would probably be blending in and finding a small job in London. It wasn't far, he surmised, for Mrs. Haydn went to London nearly every other Saturday and came back by dinner time. With that in mind, Hasan began his own adventure, his book clasped between his fingers.

He walked past the little farmer's market, down the road, across the bridge, and further until he hit actual asphalt. By this time, however, Hasan was exhausted. He seriously underestimated just how far off the beaten path the orphanage was! On the bright side, the weather was nicer today,...yet he was in desperate need of a tissue and possibly a cup of hot chocolate. But he had to go on! Looking about him, he realized he was in a small neighborhood, and was happy he had made it so far as civilized society. A few more minutes of walking and he found himself on the edges of a small shopping street. Not quite London, but he was sure he was close. Following his gut, Hasan continued on his path, when he saw the most peculiar sight: a man with an owl. The man wore black robes, like a dress, and he was reading a letter on, hang on, a scroll of parchment? Hasan rubbed at his eyes. Heaven knew his eyesight was terrible- he was probably hallucinating again. Stopped by a red light, Hasan turned to a woman beside him and asked which way to London. She nearly laughed in delight.

"Oh, just past this street here and you'll be in the very heart of it, dear."

The woman had a sweet face, slightly frizzled red hair, and a baggy, moss green peacoat. Hasan thanked the lady, and was just about to step into the street when she grabbed his arm. Oh, this was not supposed to happen.

"Where are your parents, dear?" the woman asked, face drawn in concern.

Well, not like it was any of her business.

"Oh, just down the street Misses."

"Mrs. Weasley." she supplied kindly, letting go of his arm. Hasan managed to smile back.

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley." And he scampered off before she could even process he was lying.

"Oh, the poor kid." Molly thought to herself. "Probably some runaway..."

Hasan, meanwhile, was leaping with joy. He had made it! He was in London! So it was only half past five, and he had set out at eleven, but a victory was a victory, was it not? He wondered if the man Mrs. Haydn mentioned, had already come to the orphanage. Was the man very disappointed? He shouldn't be. After all, there were twenty-six other wonderful kids to choose from- most of whom were abandoned at birth. Who would willingly want Harry-no- Hasan. Especially if he learned of Hasan's issues.

Sighing, he tore his eyes away from the large clock tower to focus on his environment. People were bustling about in all sorts of styles, holding briefcases, handbags, suitcases, dog leashes. It seemed everyone was going somewhere, and no one paid any mind to Hasan. Could this day get any better?

He picked up the pace, wondering if a kind baker would throw him some scraps or if he'd just starve the first night. This idea didn't bother him too much- for the people in his book starved relatively often- but reality was a whole other matter. He needed food, or so help him, he was going to die from something as ordinary as starvation. And wouldn't that just be a sad adventure.

His first attempt at soliciting food was a complete and utter failure. The baker screeched for him to get out or he'd call the cops. His second attempt was much the same...Must he? Hasan looked at his worn book with detached fondness, and figured it was for the best. Gathering his courage, he sold his treasure to a used book store for ten pounds. Half of which, Harry was sure he only got because the shop owner took pity on him. But money was money, and Hasan continued merrily on his way until he came to a pub with delicious smells wafting from the windows. He noticed that none of the other passerby's so much as glanced at the pub. But surely they could smell those heavenly scents! Figuring hunger made him sensitive to food, he didn't think too much of it and glanced upwards.

The Leaky Cauldron.

What a funny name for a pub! Hasan thought, then pushed open the door, money clutched firmly in his little hand, to be met with thunderous chatter. He took a step back, and the noise muted, a step forward, and he could hear the chinking glasses and lively conversation as clear as day. It was like his appearance. Magic! A warmth spread over him as he acknowledged that this was where he belonged. Plus, there was heating in here, and that certainly helped a body get warm!

"Hey there, kid." a tall man with an apron smiled down at him. "Looking for your parents?"

Hasan began to panic though the waiter could only detect his deepening breaths.

"Uh, no, no sir." Hasan mumbled out, ready to slide past him.

"No?" the employee asked, side stepping Hasan's escape route. Damn! Hasan was forced to look up at him to keep his cute little boy cover. "Are they somewhere else perhaps? I could help you look?"

"They're dead." Hasan said flatly, really not in the mood to play the game anymore. He was sooo hungry. He couldn't even think straight.

The man in front of him apparently couldn't either. Was this kid lying? He searched his jaded orbs but found nothing but weariness. Perhaps he just got into a fight and ran away? Yes, that was a much better alternative.

"Y-you hungry, kid?" he finally asked, attempting to stall him long enough to contact his parents and get them over here.

"No, just let me-"

And then his stomach released a loud growl.

"Well, come on then, out of the doorway." the waiter said briskly. He grabbed Hasan's hand despite the fact it was balled in a fist, and led him quickly to the bar. "I'm Marcus, by the way." he said as they walked. Hasan found himself not caring.

Honestly! He had money! He could just buy a loaf of bread and be done with it, forget about the questions that would arise. But...the lure of food did sound good. He decided to play nice for just a bit longer.

"Hasan."

"Hasan? That's...nice. Very nice." Marcus nodded slowly, then called over the bar, "Tom!"

In no time, an older man with a striped black and white apron came peering over the ledge.

"What is it Marcus? Oh! I see you have a friend here." He used light tones, but his arched eyebrow told another story.

"He needs to eat." Marcus said, and the man nodded cryptically like they had exchanged a million words with those four.

"Bring him to the back." Tom said, and flew off to get what Hasan hoped was his food. Marcus led Hasan to the back room as instructed, taking in his shabby appearance with a frown: withering sweatshirt, ripped jeans. He looked homeless but for his clean brown hair and clear face.

"This is where the employees eat." Marcus explained, indicating that Hasan take a seat on the bench while he sat across. "Tom's the owner. He's fixing you a plate."

Hasan nodded, jaded eyes taking in everything around him. The floor, walls, and ceiling were worn wood, and the light overhead was a tiny iron chandelier. And, wait a minute, was it floating? Hasan rubbed his eyes, and blinked. I must be dreaming, he thought.

"So...where do you live?" Marcus asked uneasily, praying for Tom's swift arrival.

Hasan folded his hands in his lap and looked somewhere to Marcus' left.

"I don't live there anymore."

Ah! So the boy had gotten into a fight, maybe with his parents? Marcus was so relieved he nearly sighed in delight.

"Look, kid, you can tell me. It's okay, I promise they won't be mad at you, that is, assuming you didn't do-"

"I didn't do anything!" Hasan protested. "I just don't live there anymore."

He could hear how bratty he sounded, but it was like someone else was speaking. Besides this man deserved it. What part of: My parents are dead and I don't live anywhere, did this man not understand?

"Ah, I see." Though he clearly didn't. "Where is there? It could help us to locate your parents."

'I told you!' Hasan wanted to shout, but instead it came out in a deadly whisper: "They aren't here. They died."

Before Marcus could protest that he shouldn't joke about things like that, Tom came in with a plate of fish and chips, and a tall glass of water.

"How you making out?" Tom asked Marcus, taking a seat beside his employee.

Marcus gave a histrionically audible sigh.

"He keeps saying his parents are dead." Marcus said, throwing his hands in the air.

"Because they are." Hasan mumbled. "Why would I lie about that?"

"Because you clearly ran away from somewhere!" Marcus shouted.

"Hey! Hey!" Tom yelled. "Everybody, just! Marcus, shhh. We'll get to the bottom of this." Turning back to Hasan he gave a tired, fatherly smile.

"What's your name, kid? How old are you?"

Hasan tried to determine if there was an ulterior motive, but wasn't as pro as Gandalf. He ended up with the truth, or at least, his truth.

"Hasan. I'm eight."

"Ah, Hasan. Hasan what?" Tom pried. Hasan shrugged. Gosh! They hadn't given him time to construct a surname! What did they think he was? A name generator? Tom seemed to understand that Hasan was unwilling to divulge such information because he quickly moved on.

"Alright, Hasan. Marcus here seems to believe you ran away from home. Did you?"

Home? Was Penelope's House considered a home? Technically a house was a home, unless you were one of those sentimental people that believed a home was so much better. The orphanage was a hole where they shoved freaks without parents. Was that considered a home? Perhaps he should have asked himself: did he feel at home there?

Uh! The thinking was giving him a headache.

"I ran." Hasan finally said in an even tone. That was fairly obvious.

The two adults shared a look as Hasan began to devour his meal. It was actually quite tasty.

"Slow down, you'll get sick," Marcus chided concernedly, "You'd think you haven't eaten in-" he stopped himself, finally seeing the error in his ways. He looked to Tom for support, but the older man just raised an eyebrow. You dug your own grave.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast." Hasan told them, and they instantly relaxed. That wasn't so bad, right? It wasn't like they had a full blown street rat on their hands. Plus, the kid seemed nice enough, polite enough anyway.

"Hasan...look at me." Tom asked softly from across the table. The tone was so low and gentle that Hasan complied without much thought. "I'm willing to believe you." he said firmly, "Now do you have anywhere to stay?"

Hasan shook his head. They weren't possibly-? Could they-? His heart fluttered with hope. This was an inn after all!

"You can stay here. For one night!" Tom announced, his strictness giving way with a warm smile. He didn't exactly condone running away from home, but there wasn't much else he could do. If the kid wouldn't talk, assuming he was lying, then there wasn't anything he could do that wouldn't have him running to the hills- or worse- Knockturn Alley. Yes, best to keep him safe at the inn and hope his parents followed him.

"Thank you." Hasan whispered, green eyes filling with tears. He was just a harmless little runway... The idiots. Once Hasan was finished eating his fill, which included a hot chocolate with whipped cream as dessert, Marcus led him upstairs to his room at the far end of the hallway.

"This is where you'll stay the night. Just touch the knob and it'll unlock for you."

Seemingly satisfied, Marcus walked away; Hasan touched it and it opened.

Magic.

Giddy with joy, Hasan entered the little room, shut the door, and fell fast asleep on the bed. He couldn't help himself, it was so incredibly soft, that he felt his eyelids shutting as he touched it.

He only wished that his dream wouldn't end when he woke up.

.oOo.

Down the hall, Marcus was shaking his head at Tom, wondering how on earth they were going to pull this off.

"Hopefully his parents will come in the morning." Marcus murmured. Tom, however, stayed silent. "You don't- You don't actually think-?"

"Marcus, I'm not sure. He seems genuine enough, and he is only eight. I'm prepared to take his word for it."

"And if he is, by some miraculous stretch of the imagination, telling the truth?"

Tom sighed, "Then we'll just have to see what we can do. Won't we?"

They each cheered to that, butterbeer overflowing in large mugs, as the last customers emptied out. Tom plunged the pub into total darkness with a wave of his wand, and Marcus began to bolt up the door, when a lone figure seemed to materialize right outside of it.

"It's closing time." Marcus called out, but opened the door anyway.

"What is it?" Tom asked, turning from his ascent up the stairs.

"I'm terribly sorry, Tom." the man outside said, taking down his hood, "But I seem to have lost my son."

Why that little urchin! Marcus thought. He turned to the supposed father and gave a warm smile, then began to show him upstairs.

"The poor fellow's asleep, Marcus. We can't just-"

"Oh, no matter," the man said in a pleasant baritone. "I can simply apparate us back home."

Marcus nodded happily. He knew that boy had been lying! Tom, however, didn't seem so sure. The man in front of them was tall, dressed in a heavy black cloak, with thick brown hair that fell just past his shoulders. His eyes were a pale blue, and his eyebrows were heavy on top of them. Despite his informal shout of 'Tom,' Tom was positive he had never seen this man before in his life. Granted, the Leaky Cauldron was extremely busy and there was a chance he hadn't met someone before, but...

"Well right this way Mister!" Marcus was saying.

Tom just shook his head. It was getting late; he was tired. He allowed Marcus to show the man upstairs to Hasan's room, while Tom continued on to his own chambers above his business.

"So what did he do?" Marcus asked conversationally.

"Do?" the man repeated absently.

"Yeah, to run away like that."

The man paused.

"I'm not sure."

They had reached the boy's door by now, and Marcus was mumbling the incantation to allow him in.

"He said you were dead, you know. You and your wife! I couldn't believe it!" Marcus continued, getting carried away by his own triumph.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I'd give 'im a talking if I were you."

A grim smile came over the man's face.

"Indeed."

The father entered the room, while Marcus left to give them privacy. The bedroom was dark, nearly pitch black but for the lone candle flickering in the bathroom.

"What a small body to contain so much magic." he whispered, approaching the bed.

The boy was peaceful looking while asleep, brown hair tangled around his shoulders and the gentle rise and fall of his little chest.

The man had been tracing his trail for a while now: since noon to be exact, when the little cretin decided to make a break for it. You see, this man was highly sensitive to magic ever since he had ingested some fairly dark potions that didn't react well in his system. His new ability didn't bother him much, but it certainly gave him a shock when a highly powerful source was radiating from a barely populated town near London. He made an investigation of it, finally reaching a little known orphanage called Penelope's House.

How the woman thought kids could even be found, let alone adopted, was beyond him. But he was thankful for it nonetheless, for the boy hadn't been adopted yet. At first, he hadn't known what or who was radiating the powerful magical aura, but after asking a few strategic questions, he had a pretty good idea.

Only one child was known to be...strange. Only one child that was set apart from the whole and treated with respect despite the lack of any reason. It was his aura. The man told Mrs. Haydn he would very much like to meet this little boy, and the woman practically cried with happiness. "Noon, then?" she had asked, and he had nodded. And now, here he was, after blindly following his more bothersome-than-useful power, kneeling at the bedside of a child he didn't know. But if he trusted anything in the world, it was his gut.

He reached out to touch the boy's arm, and with a faint pop, they both vanished into the night.

.oOo.

Altair Castell was a quiet man of forty something years, who kept mostly to himself at the Castell Estate, located within some unplottable territory in France. He was quiet for two reasons: 1) He was not on speaking terms with his family and wanted no part in the war. 2) He was supposed to be dead.

The first was fairly easy to explain. Altair was the last of the British branch of Castell's, meaning that he was distantly related to the House of Black. And with this came the Malfoy's, the Lestrange's, and the rest of the bloody Dark Lord's escort. Which simply begged the question: why wasn't he with them?

The second point answers this. In the time of the Dark Lord's reign, Altair had been hunted down as mercilessly as Slughorn, except that he had family that pressured him as well. He had a knack for what some like to call 'getting into trouble' and often found his nose where it didn't belong.

This being said, he was the ideal spy, stealthy, amiable, easy-going, but very smart. Well, mostly. While pursued by the Dark Lord, he was running out of options. He had to get away, and well, desperate times did call for desperate measures, and so- in his desperation- he decided to down the closest few potions on Snape's desk. (Snape had his own mastermind space at Riddle Manor.) Back then, Severus was fighting for the Dark Lord's favor, much like everybody else- and he did so with inventions, whether it was spells or potions. It just so happened that the particular few he chose to ingest did not kill him, but instead, gave him a little known condition Snape decided to creatively call: "Magical Sight." It was a nuisance to be honest, but he had his out, and who was he to complain?

Thus, the next few years were spent in hiding, and while hiding, Altair began to invest in defensive training to prepare for the inevitable. His instructors were always obliviated afterwards, but he was a patient man, and eventually built up a repertoire of different battle styles.

When news of the Dark Lord's demise reached Altair's ears, he had already achieved a level of expertise in martial arts, as well as sword fighting, your basic hand-to-hand, and of course, spells both dark and light.

But he wasn't entirely cut off from the world. Due to his condition, he needed to take a potion known as "Muted Sights." twice a month, formulated specifically for him (and named) by Severus Snape. Usually, Snape would apparate to a meeting point where they would exchange few words, but yesterday had been particularly hectic. Unable to take the time off, it seemed, Altair had volunteered to go himself, personally, to London. It would be like a vacation, he told himself, except that he would have to be on high alert everywhere he went- which wasn't a change at all.

Altair took the three Galleon portkey to London at 5 in the afternoon, and apparated to Hogsmeade where he waited patiently for the man there. As he waited, however, he kept feeling a certain prickling in his mind, which meant a particularly loud, or bright, (he was never really quite sure how to describe it) magical source was nearby. He shook his head, trying to shove it down as he recognized the black robes billowing in the distance.

.oOo.

Snape was his usual acidulous self, but he honestly did like Altair, if like was such a thing possible for a man like Severus. Altair suspected it was because that he could see, all too clearly, himself in Altair's shoes. He didn't treat Altair like a coward for finding an out, but he did suspect Snape envied him from time to time. Even with the Dark Lord gone, Snape was still on edge, always preparing for the next course of action. Altair almost pitied him.

"I'm going to be late with the headmaster now because of you." Snape sneered, tossing him the potions. The two vials clanked in the paper bag as Altair swiped it from the air.

"Is the Light Lord still into lemon drops?"

"Don't be absurd!" Snape snapped. "Of course, he is!"

The two friendly acquaintances looked at each other and smiled fractionally. Snape still had greasy hair due to the potion fumes, obsidian eyes that could probably set someone on fire, and a tongue that could lash someone quite brutally. He hadn't changed in, in...well, he hadn't changed. Altair, however, was under a simple glamor that made him look much older than he really was.

"You should really take those right away." Snape insisted, indicating to the bag. "You've waited too long, we're already into November."

"Yes, I know." Altair sighed. But he didn't want to yet, even as those obsidian eyes watched him acutely, he couldn't bring himself to mute the powerful tug leading god knows where.

Snape was still staring. "You know the effects of too much exposure. Especially so near Hogwarts, I suggest you do it now."

"I will..." Altair paused. Should he tell him or ignore it? Drink the potion and pretend it was never there. Snape was never one to coax- he just waited rather impatiently for Altair to come to an answer. "There's a powerful magical energy near here." Altair finally bit put.

Snape raised a supercilious eyebrow. "Indeed. And the castle is not-?"

"Severus, it's...it's not the castle. The castle's aura is gold; I'm sensing a pulsating emerald. Somewhere...somewhere near here."

"And it's not Hogwarts?" Snape asked again, looking at him like he grew another head.

"No." Altair said definitely.

Snape leaned back in his seat. "Then by all means, sate your curiosity, Altair. But the castle's most likely interfering with your already hyperactive senses. Why you didn't contact me until the beginning of November..."

Altair felt himself grow angry. How dare this man not believe him! But he was a gentle bull by nature, so he just shook his head.

"Thanks, Severus. Go run along to Gandalf now." Altair made a shooing motion with his hand earning a glare from the other.

"You're just lucky I haven't told Gandalf of your existence." he said lowly, "But if you do find something..." he left it at that, before striding briskly back to the castle.

But Altair knew better- Severus would never rat out a potential ally. Plus, Altair was too excited to be scared by an old school friend. What was this wild green energy? Who was it? How did it form? Was it real?

He pocketed the potions in his clock and apparated to Diagon Alley. From there, he then continued on foot until he reached a little suburb. The glow was brighter now, the tugging more adamant, and he joyfully followed his senses past a small family-owned farm, a red large mill, a hill, and finally, he stood before the most pitiful orphanage he had ever seen in his entire life.

Penelope's House.

.oOo.

Hasan awoke to a soft hissing coming from somewhere to his right. Yet, he made no move to declare his return to consciousness, for what if it be more advantageous to remain immobile? He sent his senses out, hearing the hissing, but also smelling coffee, and feeling the soft covers and mattress of his bed. Thinking back to last night, the covers of the Leaky Cauldron had been of average quality, mediocre at best (not that Hasan knew much about quality), with an extremely fluffy pillow that his head kept sinking into. Now, it felt just right and extremely luxurious. Either he wasn't remembering correctly or he wasn't there at all.

"I know you're not asleep." a low voice intoned from across the room. "You can get up now."

Hasan, determining that he had discovered all of importance from just his senses, had little reluctance with opening his eyes. The man knew he was awake anyway, right? Hasan sat up gingerly, blinking into the bright room with a false air of ignorance. His gaze swept left and right, but his eyesight was never really good.

"How are you?" the voice asked again.

Hasan's eyes narrowed on the speaker who was busy stroking a small black snake. What an odd animal for a pet, Hasan thought, but otherwise had no opinion. It wasn't nice to judge. The room was richly furnished with old mahogany desks and drawers, a table, two couches, and a large mantled fireplace.

"Well enough..." Hasan answered slowly. The man simply nodded.

"That's good. My name's Altair, by the way, Altair Castell. This is my pet, Tina."

:Hello: Tina hissed.

Hasan appeared unfazed- he had talked to snakes before. But when he had told Mrs. Haydn she had called him a rather imaginative young man, and looked at him a little more oddly ever since. So Hasan remained quiet about his ability. It wasn't nice to judge, but people did it anyway.

"Where am I?" Hasan asked, not needing to feign his curiosity and growing panic.

"France." Altair said lazily. It was that one word that jolted Hasan from his thoughts. France? Wait, who the hell was this guy? Why was he here? How did he get here, how long had he been unconscious for?

Hasan bit his lower lip.

"You kidnapped me." It was a statement.

Altair was struck at the nonchalance. "No, I've got the paperwork right here."

That's when Hasan noticed the small manila folder. He made two realizations at once. One, this was the man who wanted to see him yesterday. Two, Altair knew his real name. His dream was over.

He was just Harry.

To any other, this news would elicit sobs that would rack one's small body. To any other, they would scrunch their eyes tight and pray for a hug.

Harry did no such thing.

"What's my name?" he asked slowly. Anything to keep the dream going... He so desperately wanted to be Hasan the wizard, but if the man knew his real name was Harry Potter then there was nothing he could do about it. "What's the folder say? Why did you come? How did you find me?" His persona was falling apart as he spoke, but his voice remained eerily calm- a trait from some mental disorder, he recalled Mrs. Haydn saying.

But surprisingly, the man simply chuckled in front of him. They were little sounds escaping at first, but soon grew into full-bellied laughs. Harry was frozen on the bed.

"Sly thing." Altair was chuckling. His icy eyes met Harry's jaded ones and he stood up to approach him. "You will make a great Slytherin yet, or perhaps a Ravenclaw."

Harry frowned.

"A-a, excuse me, a what-?"

Altair ignored him, "I'm sorry,"-he struggled to get his laughter under control,-"The paperwork doesn't exist."

Something slid from his sleeve into his hand, and a swish of arm brought the manila folder to flames.

"You don't know my name?" Harry breathed out, relieved, hardly registering the fire in the background in his delight. "Mrs. Haydn didn't tell you my name?" His was getting suspicious now, but also hopeful, as all children will wont to be when the best case scenario presents itself as possible.

Altair shrugged. He remembered the conversation vaguely, but he was never one for details. Also, the Magic Sight had been wreaking havoc with his mind, and if the woman told him he could meet the boy the next day, then how was he to know he should have kept the information firmly in his brain? Yes, Altair was a lucky man, but sorely blinded to some obvious things.

"No. I don't believe so." Altair said with a frown, "But I have adopted you, and I would really like to know your name."

Hasan relaxed slightly: his identity was still his secret.

"I call myself Hasan."

A pause.

"Hasan Castell. I like it."

Hasan still felt incredibly awkward in bed, so he made to get up. Altair didn't stop him, so he continued on until he reached the snake. It rose up to greet him, though that wasn't saying much because he was short, even for an eight year old due to the orphanage food, tongue sticking out in flashes.

:Hassssan:

Hasan blinked. Suddenly, the snake was green with bright yellow diamonds. What? The snake was a color changer?

:It isss my ability, little one:

The snake turned fiery red then deep sapphire blue, all within a few seconds, as if to prove its point.

"Altair?" Hasan asked suddenly, his back turned to his new father and eyes entranced by Tina, "Do you believe in magic?"

This puzzled Altair, for the boy nearly spilled over with pure magical energy!

"What? Of course I-" and then it struck him. It struck him hard. "You didn't know- don't know... you're a wizard." he stated ineloquently.

He felt his mouth grow dry as he stared at this little boy, head tilted slightly, so oblivious of the power he contained. How could he have overlooked this detail in his curiosity, determination, and then frustration?

"I dreamed I was a wizard." Hasan said loftily, reaching out to pet Tina. "I fear I must still be dreaming."

Her scales were smooth emerald now, glittering with an iridescent sheen.

"No, Hasan. Look at me." Altair said.

He did so, dull jade eyes gazing up skeptical at icy blue. "You're a wizard... I'm a wizard. Magic is real."

Hasan was petrified, turned to a marble statue as the emerald snake climbed onto his arm.

:It isss true:

"Hasan? Hasan, are you alright? I'm not lying to you: Magic is real."

Tina slithered up around his neck and tasted his cheek with her tongue.

"You better not lie to me." he said eventually, pointing to the pile of ash that was the folder. "I might just burn."

Just then, Tina returned to bright carmine, looking like a bloodied noose around his head. Altair nodded sadly, staring at his hands, knowing now that his display of fire probably didn't do much to ease the boy's concerns. When he looked up, Tina was already back on the table.

"Will you teach me?" Hasan's little voice enquired, hands tangling in his old, tattered sweatshirt. Altair made a mental note to go shopping later. "Magic, I mean." Hasan elaborated.

Altair felt a smile grow over his face.

"I'd like nothing more, Hasan, my son."

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

Three Years Later

Hasan Castell felt trapped. No, scratch that, he was trapped. In this body and in this dream...

The past three years had been wonderful: Altair had taught him all he needed to know to excel in his first year of Hogwarts, from social norms, to prejudices, to spells, texts, and self-defense. Altair had called him a natural, and loved to watch his son burgeon before his eyes. But Altair, as we know, had a knack for finding himself where he should never have been, but apart from his apparent luck, he was a human like all the rest. He didn't notice Hasan's distress at all. Perhaps it was because it wasn't Hasan's distress but Harry's.

Hasan liked to separate the two, though he knew they were the same. (He wasn't that stupid.) It just made it easier if...if one day he woke up and it was all gone. The magic, the spells, his father. He'd wake up and just be Harry, and life would go on. The thought terrified him. He wanted to be Hasan with all his heart! But he knew the truth. Now, if only his reflection would understand.

Hasan touched his face in the mirror, tracing his rounder jawline, jade-green eyes, and average brown eyebrows. Sometimes he imagined he could see himself...his old self- in the mirror, but a blink later and he was gone. His hair had grown some in the past years, only hindered by two annual haircuts, so that it fell gracefully to his waist. That was another thing he missed: his inky hair that wouldn't lie flat no matter what he did. This style was just too tame, too controlled.

He fought against making a metaphor for his life, and opted to just stare. Stare at the him that wasn't him. If dad found out...would he hate Hasan for deceiving him?

Which brought Hasan to his next issue: He was alone. It did not matter that Altair loved him, because Altair loved Hasan, and Harry was pretending. He had never truly left Red Mill's Hill: he was still there, staring into the sky, and dreaming. It broke his heart.

.oOo.

:Hassssan: Tina slithered into the bathroom, coming up onto the counter.

:Yes, Tina?: Hasan hissed back.

:You are still dreaming that you are not you.:

If snakes could look sympathetic, then that was exactly how Tina looked. She was white at the moment but for a large black dot on her back.

Hasan sighed softly.

:But I am not I*: Hasan hissed sadly, running his fingers over her scales. He was still in his pajamas, but to be fair, it was only five o'clock. He had been up early for today was July 31st.

:That iss sstupid human logic.: Tina told him firmly, :I can be pure white (the black dot disappeared) and then change ssso I am pitch black. (She demonstrated). Yet, I am alwasysss I.:

This managed to bring a smile to the boy's face as the snake changed to a calm turquoise.

"Yeah, I know." Hasan mumbled to himself. He knew he was being melodramatic, but today just brought back thoughts...He splashed water on his face, stroked Tina, and then exited the bathroom.

Perhaps the one thing he missed most was his eyes.

.oOo.

Downstairs, Altair was sipping his coffee with the Daily Prophet opened out onto the table. He always got a bunch whenever Severus came around (which was every month) and therefore, his news was always outdated. But still! He enjoyed keeping up with Wizarding Britain. He still hadn't told Severus of his young charge yet...but why did the man need to know everything?

He was probably more knowledgeable than most of the Wizarding World from being with the Dark Lord and Gan- Dumbledore all the time. Well, not so much the Dark Lord now for he was supposedly dead by some Harry Potter or other. Which reminded him: Harry Potter was going to be going to Hogwarts this year. What a coincidence!

"Morning, Hasan!" Altair cried cheerfully, waving his month-old newspaper with a flourish.

"Morning, Dad." Hasan said, trying not to fall into nostalgia at the name. Honestly, it was just a name! He could be Harry anytime he wanted! Yeah...he couldn't even lie to himself.

Altair dramatically read the last few lines of the paper (making it clear when he had finished reading) as Hasan grabbed some croissants, before shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON!"

Hasan smiled at his overenthusiastic father, and settled in beside him with a cup of hot tea and his breakfast.

"I feel old." Hasan grumbled playfully. "If I'm only eleven I wonder what Gandalf feels like."

"It only gets worse from here, son!" Altair ruffled Hasan's hair affectionately, though it straightened back out in seconds. Another thing Hasan tried to ignore.

"Did you see the mail yet?" Altair asked nonchalantly while taking a small sip of his coffee.

"No, I'll-" But as Hasan turned around, Altair swiftly shoved an envelope right under his nose.

"Wha-!" Hasan gaped, before taking the heavy parchment in his hands.

There was an insignia of a lion, snake, badger, and raven, pressed in red wax, which Hasan immediately correlated to the four houses of Hogwarts. Altair told him all about them, plus some other miscellaneous information on some cup of Helga's, diadem of Ravenclaw's and other such nonsense...

Hasan turned over the envelope and read:

Mr. H Castell

The Second Bedroom

Castell Estate, France

"See, this place is so unplottable, we don't even have a proper address!" Altair said happily, taking a generous bite of his food.

"It really came." Hasan breathed, tearing open the letter and reading it hungrily.

"Of course it did! I wouldn't have prepped you on fourth year incantations if I didn't think you'd get in, would I?"

Hasan looked at him dubiously. The man would've prepared for everything and anything if only they had time.

"So does this mean I get a real wand now? I don't need to borrow yours?"

Altair grinned. "Yes! But you know, it's not my fault they upped the wand age."

Hasan grinned playfully, "And you're just oh so law abiding, aren't you?"

.oOo.

Three years ago, Hasan would have only been dreaming of wizards with long gray beards and magical staffs, hoping and hoping to wake up one day and be one. He still wasn't sure if he accepted it-who he was- or was becoming. Or that what he lived as Hasan was not all some elaborate, imaginative, dream. To be honest, Hasan knew very well. He wasn't an idiot. But he still couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty whenever he remembered who he really was.

Birthdays tended to trigger bothersome emotions like that.

Altair smiled at him as they entered Diagon Alley in through the Leaky Cauldron, and past the brick wall which Altair tapped opened with a grin.

("Hey isn't that?" Tom asked as the ends of their cloaks disappeared out the door. "No, couldn't be.")

Hasan was amazed at the sheer 'magicalness' of everything and wondered how, three years ago, he had missed all the colorful robes and hats. Everything was just so exciting! In France, they had to disguise themselves as muggles, not daring to go into the Wizarding World until it was time. Plus, it wouldn't do any good to be caught in something or other with a foreign government. They didn't do anything that would warrant such attention, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

All around them were families and many many children, and teens getting ready for the coming school year. They had on wizards' robes and witches' hats, and some even had owls in cages! When Hasan first confessed to seeing the owls, Altair had only laughed and told him that many owls were disillusioned so that muggles couldn't see them, and the few that did, didn't think much of it. Altair wasn't a muggle hater, but he did think they were rather doltish sometimes, and being raised in a pureblood family, he was more than aware of the blood prejudices. Thus, Hasan knew all about them too.

.oOo.

Hasan was dressed in a grey v-neck and black jeans, with a white scarf to keep him warm. His brown hair was in a thick braid hanging in front of his right shoulder. Altair, glamored to look older, beside him, donning his usual black cloak and keeping his eyes on where they were going. The two passed the apothecary, the quidditch store, Gringott's (they really didn't want to inadvertently set off any alarms), a second-hand robes shop, as well as many others that Hasan just couldn't take in at once. Finally, they reached the very end of the strip, and Altair immediately steered him into an ancient-looking edifice that was supposedly a fine wand shop by the dusty sign out front. But stepping inside, Hasan knew instantly that this was a very genuine place.

Stacks and rows and shelves, of boxes upon boxes of wands lined every surface of the room. Altair was starting to get a mild headache from all the magical energy in the shop and pressed a hand wearily to his forehead.

"Hello?" Altair called out, wanting to be gone as soon as possible, which meant beginning as soon as possible. Just then, an elderly man with wild white hair and myriad wrinkles appeared from behind a shelf, so full, that nothing could be seen behind it.

"Why, hello there! Just be a minute!" Ollivander called out, followed by a crashing sound.

Hasan looked questioningly at his father and frowned in concern when he saw how the man was suffering.

"Why don't you wait outside?" Hasan suggested gently, "I'll just be a minute. Perhaps you could get the other things on the list?"

Altair was reluctant to leave Hasan by himself, but then again, he wasn't too peachy about his migraine either.

"Alright, Hasan. I'll meet you in front of the Menagerie, yes?"

Hasan nodded, and the man was happy to be out the door at last. Many parents would find that buying their child's first wand is a simply resplendent experience, but Hasan had been wielding wands and other weapons for a while now. This was only like replacing a pair of shoes for Altair!

Hasan didn't mind in the least really. He turned to face front- and then immediately rethought that statement, for right in front of him stood the wand-maker, and his silvery eyes that seemed to stare straight into the depths of Hasan's soul. Perhaps he should have had Altair stay?

"Hasan, is it?" Ollivander asked with lips quivering in a sort of smile.

Hasan gave slightly less than graceful nod, for it seemed that Ollivander knew him. Him, as in him, him.

"Yes, sir." Hasan answered dutifully, trying and failing to peel his eyes away.

"Hmm." the man seemed lost for a second, but then jerked back to life. "Well, we best get started then. Which arm would be your wand arm, boy?"

"Right."

The man nodded thoughtfully as a measuring tape floated off the desk and began to take calculations. It was similar to when he went robe shopping, or rather, when Monsieur Etienne came to the house, provided Altair with what he needed, and then left without any recollection of what just happened. But this was far more interesting! Everything from his hands to his eyes were measured and it continually just kept moving about! Meanwhile, Ollivander had whirled around and snatched a few dozen boxes seemingly at random. Once the measuring tape settled back down, he tossed a box to Hasan, who caught it, and then eyed him in confusion.

"Just wave it around." Ollivander said like it was obvious but without any trace of haughtiness. Hasan barely brushed against it when the box was taken from his grasp, and replaced with another. Hasan swallowed nervously and tried again, but to the same result.

"Ooh, a tough one! I like challenges." the old man was muttering to himself. "Hmm, perhaps?"

Another box was given to him, and Hasan's fingers managed to hold it, before it was again removed from his fingers.

"Ah! But maybe—?" Hasan was beginning to wish that Altair had stayed for surely this man was mad as a hatter! There was a stack of about fifty wands piled higgly-piggly up on the desk, which was already cluttered with notes and such things. It seemed like he was never going to find a wand just for him, but then, Ollivander returned with yet another wand. Miraculously, the wand-maker seemed to grow happier as the search lengthened and it did a wonder for his face.

"Eleven inches, holly wood, containing exactly one phoenix feather." Ollivander announced. Hasan's fingers wrapped around it, and a sudden warmth ran up his spine. "Wave it!" Ollivander commanded.

Hasan's face broke into a broad smile and he flicked the wand expertly around (though he needn't have) to be rewarded with a bright shower of silver and gold sparks.

"Yes! Yes!" Ollivander was shouting, hands clasped in joy. "And that, Mr. Potter, is a very curious thing indeed."

The sparks ceased instantly.

"Is my appearance down?" Hasan asked pleasantly, feigning nonchalance.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter. I must say, I was second guessing my intuition except that, well that is to say, up until you tried that wand." Ollivander confessed, silver eyes boring into Hasan's as he paid for the wand in shiny, newly converted francs to Galleons.

"What do you mean?" Hasan queried suspiciously. "What about this wand?"

"The wand chooses the wizard- always remember that. But it just so happens that, that wand...Why, its brother gave you that scar."

Hasan gaped at him.

"I got hit in the head with a stick?" Hasan cried in disbelief. Freak, orphan, dreamer, and now...the most pitiful person on earth. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told him he got it in the car crash that killed his parents, but he liked to believe in his free time that he got it from a heroic battle- like the fatal arrow gone astray, or the blow that nearly killed him. Though he knew both of these were absolutely false, for how could a baby fight? Or better yet, survive? Still, if others at the orphanage asked about it, he would feed them the first creative story that came to mind: I got it when I almost died. The other kids were so freaked out they never asked again.

Ollivander's face fell flat in horror. "Ooooh, dear..." he groaned, his gaze wavering for a split second. Then he seemed to revive himself. "Well, I believe your father is outside!" and then he ushered the boy out before Hasan could process that he wanted to know, more than he wanted to be gone from the man's gaze.

.oOo.

True to his word, there stood Altair outside of the wand-shop, holding a small black owl in a silver cage. Hasan gave one look at the owl before running to hug his father.

"Hey, son." he greeted. "I admit, I hadn't thought it would take as long. But, it all working out, didn't it? You now have your very own wand, and I managed to find this little guy. Happy birthday, Hasan."

"He's ("she's" Altair coughed) oh, she's for me?" Hasan breathed in disbelief, "Thank you so much, dad!"

"Yes, she reminded me of you for some reason." Altair recalled thoughtfully. "She's small, but I don't know. I just tend trust my gut with these sorts of things."

"She's lovely!" Hasan beamed. "What's her name?"

"It's up to you, Hasan. Just, please, name her something creative, won't you?"

Hasan snorted, "Yeah, like Tina? Fine then," he grumbled playfully, "How about Raven?"

Altair stopped in his tracks, "Please don't tell me you're serious!"

Hasan's jade eyes widened dramatically. "Why? You said be creative-!"

"Yes, but Raven?"

"Alright, alright! Goodness, it was only a joke." Hasan stared at his new familiar with innocently large eyes. "Do you like Raven?" he asked her. She hooted once with what Hasan insisted was joy. "See, dad! She loves the name."

Altair heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine, just remind me never to let you name something else ever again."

Raven squawked indignantly and spread her little wings.

Hasan grinned. "Don't listen to him Raven! He's just jealous because he's stuck with the name Altair!"

Altair grinned fondly down at his young charge, and knew he had made the right decision. He had been tempted to get a large, snowy white owl, but knew that Hasan appreciated stealth and discreetness in all things. Raven (he shuddered inwardly), just seemed to call to him, not to mention she was an adorable mass of feathers. Not that, not that Altair really thought things could be adorable...

"Where are we off to now?" Hasan asked eagerly. "I've already got my wand, robes, owl...!"

They continued to walk, passing a quidditch supply shop where a mass of kids were oohing over some broom called the Nimbus 2000. Hasan had only gone flying a handful of times, and though he was talented, he rather preferred staying on his own two feet, thank you very much. There were just too many dangers with flying that Altair was quick to point out by jinxing his broom those number of times. Hasan wasn't terribly interested anyway. Maybe it was because brooms circled about quidditch, and sports never appealed to Hasan. Kids at the orphanage would play ball from time to time, but Hasan just sat alone and read his book. He barely gave the broom a glance.

"We can head to the book store, then the Cauldron shop. Maybe we'll even have dinner out tonight at the Leaky Cauldron, and then finish off the day with ice cream at Fortescue's?" Altair was saying, stopping outside of the book store. Hasan looked up at Altair with pure love in his eyes. He nodded excitedly, knowing that it cost the man much to be out in public, for Altair was supposed to be dead, he knew. Which made it all the more meaningful. This was the best birthday yet!

The two spent the next two hours buying supplies and conversing with shop owners to see which brand they preferred or what texts they recommended for enrichment reading. While Altair was paying for his potion's supplies- the last items on the list, thank the heavens! -Hasan was occupied studying a reaction chart. It had a list of potion ingredients on one side, and when touched, it would explain the properties, and how to neutralize or emphasize a certain feature. It was rather fascinating, for Hasan was curious about the potions his father took each month, but had yet to try his hand at the art of potions making.

"Oh, is that very fascinating?" a cheery voice spoke from over his shoulder.

"Oh-!" Hasan slowly turned to find a girl his age, with bushy brown hair, soft chocolate eyes, and a dazzling smile. He had been so engrossed by the chart that he hadn't even notice her sneak up on him!

"I'm Hermione Granger by the way. What's your name?"

Hasan smiled warmly as he shut the book and slipped it back on the shelf.

"I call myself Hasan Castell." he said. His eyes flickered to her obviously muggle clothes, and then to her parents (the lost looking, but curious people in the doorway), and realized that she must be a muggleborn. "Do you need help finding anything?" Hasan asked sweetly.

"Oh no! I just bought my things but then I saw you and thought I should really see if you've found something interesting!" she spoke swiftly, but seemed comfortable enough in his presence. It must have been some habit, Hasan thought. "I'm super excited for Hogwarts!" the girl went on, "I've read up on everything I can! Did you know that the Boy-Who-Lived will be in our year? I can't wait to meet him! I bet he's super courageous. That would put him in Gryffindor, I suppose. I think I'm much more of a Ravenclaw, but I don't know. I'd really love to be with Harry."

Hasan gulped, "Harry?"

"Oh, yes? Didn't you know? Harry Potter's the Boy-Who-Lived! They say he's got a lightning bolt scar! Yes, right on his forehead! You didn't know?"

Hasan nodded at her absently, though his mind was racing. The Boy-Who-Lived? Harry Potter? How could it be that a muggleborn knew all this and yet, he did not? He'd have to ask Altair about it later.

"Oh, I really like your owl by the way!" Hermione continued, peering at Raven through the bars. "I think I might need one to send letters home and such."

"Perhaps a grey and white one? I've already got names picked out! Most are saints or have Greek significance...What's your owl's name?"

"Er, Raven." Hasan cringed.

"How creative!" Hermione beamed. "She's so small. It is a she, isn't it? Good, thank goodness! I would never have thought of a name like Raven to name an owl..." While she was rambling, Raven let out a sweet low hoot, and Hermione giggled at its adorableness.

"Oh, who's this dear?" Hermione's mother came over to greet him finally, when Hermione was seen engaged in avid conversation. Her mother had perfect white teeth and the same curly brown hair, though much calmer looking than her daughter's.

"This is Hasan, mum! Hasan, this is my mum!"

"How do you do, Hasan? I'm Helen Granger, and that's my husband, Jeremy."

"Hello, Mrs. Granger." Hasan said politely.

"Is this your first year at Hogwarts, too?" she asked kindly. She wanted to help her daughter establish relationships before she was out of their grasp. It wasn't that Hermione had trouble making friends, well, it was just that others were jealous of her natural talents! Anyway, Helen mentally shook herself, she wanted what was best for her baby girl. Perhaps that's why her smile came off as so saccharine. Ironic really for a dentist.

"Yes, it is." Hasan told her proudly. "I understand Hermione's going to be in my year too. At least we'll both be going in with a friend." Hasan said this all with such innocence that Hermione's eyes watered, and Helen's gratitude rolled off her in waves.

"Oh, do you really mean it Hasan? I mean, I'm so glad we're friends!" Hermione squealed, before fluidly hugging him within her step. Helen beamed at the two children, knowing that Hasan was a good match for her child. Hermione could be somewhat pushy at times, but Hasan seemed calm and patient enough to take it.

"Hermione, did you want that book?" Helen asked, needing a diversion to stop her from tearing up, by pointing to the reaction chart. Hermione nodded vigorously- she would never deny more books- and Helen called her husband over (he was currently admiring some no-grease: hair protector,) to pay for it. That's when Altair made his appearance, looking one minute like an ominous secret agent emerging behind a shelf, the next like a welcoming old father.

"Hello, pleased to meet you. Altair Castell at your service!" Altair smiled broadly at Hermione and her mother alternatively.

"Helen, a pleasure, and this is my daughter Hermione."

"She's a first year just like me." Hasan whispered helpfully. Altair nodded, glad to be privy of such information when he could 'stick a face to it,' and said with as much regret as he could muster: "I'm terribly sorry, but Hasan and I must get going..."

"Oh don't be, we were just on our way as well!" Helen informed them as Jeremy returned with the now paid for book. Hermione gave Hasan one last tentative hug before scampering after her parents to the Owl Emporium.

"Muggleborn?" Altair asked lightly as they exited the shop and headed to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes. She seems rather bright for an eleven year old." Hasan remarked.

"Right, because it is such a pain to be around dunderheads all the time, isn't it?" Altair joked, knowing that Hasan was wise beyond his years.

"Of course." Hasan returned playfully as they turned into the pub.

.oOo.

The interior of the Leaky Cauldron was just as Hasan remembered: it was warm, cozy, and extraordinarily loud! They ordered their food and Hasan got a hot chocolate as Altair drank his butterbeer. Hasan looked around at all the witches and wizards before noticing a rather large man. His head nearly reached the ceiling! And that was saying something for the ceiling was quite high.

"Ah! That is Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the keys at Hogwarts." Altair said, following his son's gaze. "I think he's also half-giant... or at least that's what I've heard." (Altair tended to hear all sorts of odd knowledge.)

Hasan listened closely as the half-giant began to speak animatedly with Tom:

"An' I delivered 'im there! I took 'im ter live with those muggles! Even the headmaster thought it was fer the best!" Hagrid wailed quietly.

"Perhaps he has been adopted by someone else?" Tom suggested helplessly.

"No, I wen ter the orphanage righ' before an' they say they've never seen 'im. Those muggles were lying! Probably turned 'im out on the streets!" Hagrid sighed. "Well, if ya see 'im. I've a got ter get a package fer Professor Dumbledore."

With that, Hagrid made to leave, except that he bumped into someone he greeted as Professor Quirrell. Quirrell seemed to babble a lot and his eyes kept dancing frantically around the room. Altair made a grunt that captured Hasan's attention immediately.

"What is it?" Hasan enquired.

"That...man. Stay away from him, Hasan. I'm getting rolls of dark magic off him." The likes of which he hadn't even seen since...the Dark Lord. "I think he's going to be teaching, just try not to get any detentions with him..." Altair whispered.

"Dark magic?" Hasan enquired. "If he teaches DADA, then shouldn't he be exposed-?"

Altair was shaking his head. "This is different Hasan. Very different."

.oOo.

After their early dinner, Altair and Hasan were on their merry way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, when in the distance, a group of wizards in brown trench coats were huddled in front of Gringott's.

"Aurors?" Hasan asked. Altair nodded grimly and led Hasan away. "Why are there aurors?" he asked again when Altair ignored him. "They couldn't have found you, you know. Maybe they're looking for that missing boy. The one Hagrid was talking about?"

Altair frowned. He was torn between staying and giving Hasan a treat of freedom, but he was also terrified. Aurors were aurors no matter their current purpose and if somehow, they recognized him. Asked him a question. Saw Hasan with him. Oh, dear. He quickly cast another glamor to turn his hair white before he was comfortable enough to continue on to the parlor.

Hasan held on to his owl's cage, while his supplies were shrunken in his jeans' pocket. He waited patiently on the bench, staring curiously at the aurors across the street. Where they really here for one missing boy? Hasan thought back to when he had run off from Penelope's House and how no one had sent a search party out for him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to be jealous because he was just too grateful to be here. Now. In Diagon Alley. Altair had come to find him, and that was worth more than a bunch of Ministry minions anyway. Besides, he wouldn't have appreciated the attention. He felt safely tucked away behind jade green irises and dark brown hair. They were his mask of sorts, even if he knew what emerald was lurking beneath.

Suddenly, a blonde-haired boy was right in front of him, giving Raven a pointed look. When he noticed that Hasan had seen him, he straightened his posture, and said in a rather haughty voice,-

"Draco Malfoy." He had platinum blonde hair, and piercing grey eyes (for a kid at least), with a pointed chin and slight mouth. Gray robes hung over a green vest and dark gray trousers, giving him an overall studious look. "What's your name?" he all but demanded, assessing Hasan from head to toe. He seemed to decide Hasan was decent enough to be seen with for he sat himself down next to him. Hasan glimpsed Altair out of the corner of his eye- he was still in line, behind a woman with bubblegum pink hair.

"I call myself Hasan."

"You call yourself?" Draco repeated dubiously.

"Yeah, I grew up in France." Hasan explained (having come up with this years ago.) "In French, we say 'Je m'appelle,' which means I call myself."

For fear of looking slow, Draco nodded as if he understood.

"You don't have a French accent." he pointed out.

"My father's British. I rarely leave the house." Hasan said as if it were obvious. In reality, Altair just cast spells on them so that they could understand and speak French fluently, but Hasan had picked up a few things here and there. Draco blinked in surprise before smiling slightly. A recovery, Hasan noted with interest, and not a fast one either. Though he was beginning to see potential in the Malfoy boy. He adapted quickly (enough) and knew good fashion when he saw it, Hasan thought with a smirk.

"What house do you think you'll be in at Hogwarts?" Draco asked, ready to move onto a subject he knew something about.

"They all sound good," Hasan sidestepped the question, "And you?"

"Slytherin!" Draco said proudly. "My whole family's been in Slytherin, can you imagine being a Hufflepuff?" he laughed a bit at his own joke before he noticed a tall, white-haired man loom over them. He had two ice-cream cones in his hand, one with chocolate and one with vanilla- it kind of nullified his ominousness.

"Come on, Hasan." his voice was low but left no room for argument. Hasan let a mask slip onto his face, not knowing if he did something wrong, or if the aurors had come or if Draco was also covered in dark magic. He gave Draco a polite nod before letting himself be dragged off. Once they were out of earshot, Altair handed him the cone and told him they were leaving. Too many aurors, too many faces.

But Hasan knew better. As they were leaving, he managed to see a taller, prouder, and much more dangerous version of Draco emerge from where he must have been spying in the tiny shop next door. The blonde man that reminded Hasan of a type of older and more sinister Legolas, turned slowly to fix Hasan Castell in a predatory stare. He murmured a few words to his son, Draco, who then looked over at Hasan rather tactlessly, before Hasan was hidden by the crowd. It was palpable now that Altair had been scared of this boy and his father, and that just caused more questions to arise. He resolved to ask about this later as Altair apparated them out.

Draco looked from Hasan to the old white-haired man, back to his father.

"Oh, that's Hasan!" Draco answered. "He seems nice enough. Pureblood I expect."

"And his companion?" Lucius enquired.

"I'm not sure. He looks old enough to be his grandfather."

"You didn't get a last name?"

At this, Draco was looking at his father suspiciously. He never asked a lot of questions unless he knew the answer and was waiting for Draco to come to the same conclusions. But what conclusions could be drawn from a simple hello?

"No, father. They're from France, I think." Draco added rapidly, trying to appease his father. "Why? Is Hasan not a pureblood?" Draco was beginning to get very worried. His father disliked mudbloods, blood traitors, and muggles with a passion, and Draco had better avoid them if he could help it, not initiate a conversation and then been seen with the kid!

Lucius thought for a moment, then replied.

"I want you to keep an eye on him, Draco. I am not aware of a Hasan on the Black Family Tree, but that would be explained if he is from France. I do wonder why he's going to Hogwarts then if he's closer to Beauxbatons."

"He didn't have an accent either." Draco said. "But I'll keep my eye on him, Father... Oh, Mother!" he exclaimed, as the golden-blonde witch advanced with bags full of clothes...

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 4: The Hogwarts Express

Their ice cream was mostly finished now, eaten carefully and somewhat sadly in their hidden manor. Hasan wished they could have finished them in Diagon Alley- it would have made his birthday complete- but he also knew there was a reason why they had to have left. And Hasan was going to get to the bottom of it.

Hasan watched his dad, whom had already finished his cone, down his last potion of the month, shudder, and then put the stopper back in. They were sitting in the living room, where on his first day there, Altair had magicked a bed across from the kitchen. Today, the two couches sat perpendicular with the longer one facing the fireplace, and the shorter one with its back to the kitchen. Hasan bit off the bottom of his cone, and then turned to stare at his father. His school supplies were already packed away, and his new owl, Raven, was sleeping in her cage on top of the trunk.

Altair noticed Hasan's look and feigned ignorance, but he was never one to put up with unsaid conversations. He ended up sighing and asking the inevitable question:

"What?"

Hasan bit his lower lip, an affectation he had adopted for his demeanor of 'Hasan,' dull jade eyes studying his father's now brown hair, (the white hair was kind of odd, so Altair had taken down the glamour as soon as they arrived), as he began the interrogation.

"Why haven't I ever heard of the Dark Lord?" His words hung in the heavy air, betrayal infused with the slight strain on his voice. "Why did Hermione Granger, that muggleborn witch I've met today, know more about Wizarding society than me? Have you been lying to me? Keeping things from me? Is this why you've been training me? Because of some Dark Lord who's supposed to be dead?"

Altair flinched back at his son's harsh words. Hasan didn't shout, he didn't ask questions that Altair didn't have the answers to, but this came too close. Too uncomfortably close to a truth Altair had wished to delay the disclosure of.

"Hasan..." he began heavily, "Do you remember when I adopted you?"

"Yes. You set the bloody folder on fire before I knew what magic was." Hasan answered apathetically, wondering where this was going.

Altair chuckled at the memory, but the sound was half-hearted and pitifully melancholy.

"And you know I must take those potions twice a month." Altair said, gesturing to the vial.

Hasan nodded. Yes, he wasn't a complete idiot.

"I am alive, you know. But what does that have to do with me?"

"Oh, I'm not sure if I should work backwards or forwards." Altair sighed to himself. "Well, let's start backwards until I can't retell any further, alright?...So I found you at the Leaky Cauldron, tracing you from Penelope's House to there. I suppose you assumed I had just cast a point-me or something, but we found out later that you're unplottable. I can only guess that you've had a tracking charm on you before and your magic rejected it in a time of need. I suppose that raises more questions though, like who and why, but the point is that I did not cast a spell to find you."

Hasan nodded slowly, watching his father's face for signs of distress or indications of falsehood. He only found a tired man, made to turn out his only valuable possessions. But Hasan didn't care. This man had lied to him! Or at least hid the truth, and though nothing could indict him yet, there must have been a reason for the secrecy.

"How did you find me then?" Hasan asked to get the story moving along.

"I followed your magical aura." Altair said, a proud gleam in his eyes. "Yours was so powerful and...pure. I have the ability to sense magic in that way, which was why I had to leave the wand shop or risk a killer headache. These Muted Sight potions nullify my power, or dampen it at worst. But I was not born with this power, this Magic Sight. I had taken a random assortment of potions, many years ago, hoping that it would kill me. It did not."

"You tried to kill yourself, but instead got a power. You found an orphan with power and adopted him, and you hide in France when it's clear you belong in Britain. Why kill yourself? What was the alternative? Was someone after you— it was...the Dark Lord wasn't it?"

"Yes, Hasan, the Dark Lord." Altair shuddered. "V-v-voldem-mort."

"Flight of death." Hasan whispered. "It's French, so why are we hiding in France if you're trying to get away,...unless he too belongs to Britain."

"Yes, he was British, and he was a madman. He wa-is obsessed with blood-purity and immortality! The former was how he gained his initial followers. The latter was what twisted him beyond repair. His name was Tom, did you know that?" Altair trailed off.

"But he's gone." Hasan whispered. "Hermione said that the Boy-Who-Lived killed him." She also said that the Boy-Who-Lived was Harry Potter, and that he would be coming to Hogwarts this year. Hasan shoved these thoughts down, not wanting to have to deal with the guilt of his deception. Hypocrite, indeed, he was hiding more than his father would have ever thought.

"I've heard that rumor too." Altair sighed. Hasan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you not telling me? Why was Voldemort after you?"

"I'm not a great Potions Master, or a skilled duelist, but you see, I've got this knack of getting into things I shouldn't. Not that Voldemort cared about luck, but I would have made the superb spy. The Dark Lord wanted to install one into Hogwarts, and I was truly terrified. The Dark Lord killed millions of families during the First Wizarding War. He was a ruthless killer, something entirely less than human! I had to get away, so I drank the potions. It was a bargain, but my luck pulled me through."

"You don't seem to rely on luck much now." Hasan remarked dryly, remembering the grueling training sessions accompanied with the words 'luck can't save you all the time.' "And I'd wager, you don't believe Voldemort's gone either." Altair really did flinch. "What?"

"You-Know-Who, or the Dark Lord. Never Voldemort." Altair said. He had wished to keep from saying this, but he really didn't want to hear that name more than was necessary. Besides, what would Hogwarts think of a boy who said Voldemort?

"Okay, the Dark Lord..." Hasan paused, knowing that fear over a name was stupid, but respected his dad enough to abide by his request. He thought over the day and how many questions he had over it. "Why did we have to leave just now? And don't tell me you were seen, you couldn't have been if you faked your own death, and I know for a fact it wasn't the aurors."

"Got me there." Altair grumbled. "That boy you were with...he just looked familiar, that's all." Altair tried to keep an air of nonchalance, but a heavy sadness drew over him like a shroud. Hasan remembered the cool stare of Draco's father and knew that his father must have known him. Perhaps at Hogwarts.

"His father." Hasan breathed. "You knew his father."

Altair nodded, looking suddenly as if miles away.

"Yes, Lucius Malfoy. He practically runs the Ministry of Magic with all the wealth he's got. Not to mention other incentives. He's a right bastard, through and through."

"He's dangerous, basically." Hasan confirmed slowly.

"Yes."

"He was a supporter of the Dark Lord?"

A nod. "Yes, he is."

"And you aren't forbidding me from befriending his son?"

Altair hesitated. "N-no."

"Even if his father wants him to watch me?"

"How did you-?"

"I figured." Hasan yawned. "Draco made it pretty obvious that they were discussing me. If you had forbidden me from seeing him, it would only cause suspicion. His father would want to know why I was avoiding them, and if they thought my parents had something to do with it, then they might just pry a little too far."

Altair smiled proudly at his son. "Sometimes I forget just how smart you are. You'll do great at Hogwarts, I know it."

"Thanks dad."

"And don't forget it. Just because I didn't give birth to you doesn't me you aren't my son."

"Dad!" Hasan laughed.

"Go to bed, son. Maybe even crack open a potions journal- there's no need to hide what I take any longer."

Hasan obeyed, eager to learn more.

But Altair stayed up many hours later.

.oOo.

"ALBUS! I TOLD YOU THAT THOSE MUGGLES WERE GOOD FOR NOTHING ORDINARY OBSESSED PEOPLE!"

"Minerva, dear!"

"DON'T YOU DARE 'DEAR' ME, ALBUS!"

Pomona glanced at Poppy uncomfortably as they entered the room side-by-side. Minerva and Albus were usually in total agreement, so when they had been called up to the headmaster's office, they had not expected to find one irritated Severus Snape (actually they had), one distraught Hagrid, and exactly one Albus and one Minerva at war.

"What's going on?" Pomona ventured as she drew closer into the room.

"Ask him!" Minerva screeched, pointing accusingly at Albus.

"Albus?" Pomona enquired. Albus shuddered slightly before answering rather reluctantly, as if ashamed of his past actions.

"Yes, well...(Albus cleared his throat.) Ten years ago, Harry Potter was taken to his aunt and uncle's house, related through Lily—"

"Professor Dumbledore, no! It was ME! I took 'im there! I sentenced lil' Harry to those terrible muggles!"

"Be quiet, Hagrid!" Minerva said sharply, having already had enough of his wails, "It was not your fault! Albus and I came later and could have taken Harry away if only someone hadn't insisted on the bloodwards. Which, by the way, were not detected at the Dursley residence last time I checked!"

Albus had the sense to look abashed.

"Minerva, what are you saying?" Poppy piped up. "Is Harry not going to come to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, just like his father! Too cool to show up to get an education!" Severus sneered. His lips pressed into a fine line as he continued his mental libel.

"Severus, is that really necessary? Harry isn't James, besides, you haven't even met the kid." Poppy chided, then turning to Albus. "Now, Albus, what's the matter?"

"Harry's gone." Albus said quietly. There was a hush that fell over the room. "His relatives dropped him off at an orphanage near London called Penelope's House, when he was just four. When Hagrid went to the orphanage in search of answers, the one manager had no recollection whatsoever of such a boy existing. None of the kids did either."

"But surely their memories could have been tampered with!" Pomona shouted outraged. How could you just lose a kid? Harry Potter, no less!

"Yes, we thought of that. But either the person who erased the memories was talented enough to not leave any traces, or the Dursley's lied, which isn't so hard to believe. Did you know they made the boy live in the cupboard under the stairs?" Minerva exclaimed. "Yes! We searched the house and there had been signs of someone actually living under the stairs!"

There was a long silence, only broken by Snape's usual insightfulness.

"If he does not show up tomorrow, the Wizarding World will be in an uproar. I suggest we fabricate some sort of story that the Boy-Who-Lived is off training in the mountains." He tried, really he did, to not sneer Harry's epitaph, because he was, really and truly, concerned. Which was funny really, seeing how he was determined to hate the Potter boy.

"And when he's not here next year and the year after?" Poppy shook her head. "No, this is just terrible! Does the rest of the staff know?"

"Only a few." Albus said. "I'll continue to see if I can reactivate the tracking charm I've placed on him, and then we'll look into scrying..."

The staff members nodded solemnly as the truth sunk in. Harry Potter, the boy they had been waiting for forever, the boy who they'd talked of during staff meetings, and the boy who was the savior of the Wizarding World was missing. And if Dumbledore couldn't find him, then it was a very worrying thing indeed.

"What's odd about this," Minerva started quietly, "is that the book hasn't erased his name." She walked to the back of the office, and summoned the large tome underneath the sorting hat. The book opened to the correct page as if reading her thoughts, and she placed it on the headmaster's desk. Written in beautiful script was the list of this generation of Hogwart's students, ranging from Hannah Abbott to Blaise Zabini.

They frowned at the not-crossed-out name of Harry Potter asking themselves what it could possibly mean. That had gone over the list of students so many times that it seemed so real and natural that Harry Potter would be coming this year. Apparently he would not.

"We still need to prepare for the Welcoming Feast." Albus said sadly, dismissing the rest of the staff with a wave of his arm. Sad glances caught each other as they walked out. How could this have happened?

What no one by Severus saw, however, was a rather peculiar jotting of Hasan Castell. Severus made no indication of having seen it, though, and swept immediately to the dungeons upon being dismissed. Striding down to the Potions Classroom, he thought of the Muted Sights potion he had yet to make for September for a certain Altair Castell. Why the idiot decided that ingesting mystery potions was the best way out, Severus would never know, but what he did know, was that Altair did not have a son. He knew this positively, as did the rest of the Death Eaters sent to investigate his sudden disappearance.

Perhaps the boy was adopted then? How odd. Altair wasn't one to go out of his way, preferring to lay low least someone recognize him from their school days. Still, it begged the question: How? And suddenly, Severus Snape wasn't so bored at the prospect of more cretins entering the school. Even if one of those cretins was his own godson.

This was going to be an interesting year indeed.

.oOo.

(One Month Later.)

Altair Castell and Hasan materialized in a small alleyway near King's Cross Station.

"Here's your ticket, Hasan. Have a fun year, use that head of yours."

He kissed his son's brow and handed him his trunk and owl, before disappearing with a 'pop'. Hasan understood his father's paranoia just a little bit better now, and didn't feel too bad about walking alone to the station, while everyone else was surrounded by loving family. He passed a group of redheads, causing quite a cacophony in the parking lot, and wondered how the mother could live with them all as he entered into the building.

Platform 9 and 3/4, easy right? Hasan looked around the large station, spotting the Platform 10 sign quite easily in the distance. He hurried towards it, dragging his small trunk behind him, eager to be on his way to the Hogwarts Express. But as he neared it, the tell-tale white-blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy was right in front of him. Shit indeed.

Next to Lucius was a lovely woman with golden hair, the tassels falling elegantly down her back. Both parents wore a set of resplendent dark green robes, trimmed with black that looked silver when the light caught it. Draco was looking at the wall apprehensively, wearing black robes with his platinum hair slicked back. He carried a small leather trunk, most likely under a shrinking charm, and an owl in a silver cage in his other hand. The trunk's wheels slowed, indicating that the family had just got there, and that Hasan had been following them for some time, despite not noticing it. Or maybe, Draco was just scared.

"It's alright, Dragon, just walk right through. We'll be right behind you." the woman beamed, placing a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder.

"A Malfoy is never scared." Lucius stated as sympathetically (or rather pathetically) as he could. Emotion wasn't exactly his strong suit, at least, not directed at his son or wife, or any other family member. But he did have some fatherly instincts that made him want to soothe Draco's worry, that, and he hardly needed people talking about Draco's nervousness.

Draco gave a curt nod to his parents and stepped through the barrier, his mother right on his heels to be there for him on the other side. Hasan found himself pondering a mother's affection for her child, and wondered absently if his mother held any of the same sort of love for him. From Altair's patchy answers yesterday, Hasan had managed to stitch together an accurate picture of Harry Potter's beginnings as well as discover a few other things:

First of all, the Dark Lord was rumored to be vanquished...by a one-year-old, (he had pieced his age together from the Dursley's complaints. Apparently, he had intruded on the family when he was only a year old.) This meant that the Dark Lord had probably killed his parents. For, apart from the Dursley's, who would leave a baby unsupervised?

Second, Lucius Malfoy and Altair knew each other and Altair was terrified of discovery, yet, he was allowed to befriend the Malfoy heir because Altair loved him like a son.

Third, Lucius Malfoy was a follower of Lord Voldemort, who was not dead (if Altair was correct), which meant if Voldemort came back and decided to kill him again- a very likely possibility since he was known as the Boy-Who-Lived- Lucius would probably want the glory of delivering Hasan to the Dark Lord.

So basically, Hasan would have to make sure Draco and he were very close in order to have a fair warning of his possible death. Either by Draco going out of his way to find something out and report back to him, like a spy, or Draco's behavior would be so familiar that he would give himself away by acting out of the ordinary.

Hasan was pretty complacent about his new plan. It was all common sense, really. Thoughts of friendship were so far off the mark that Hasan didn't feel the least bit guilty about hoodwinking another innocent soul. He never had any friends, and didn't entertain the prospect of gaining any more in the future. With these happy thoughts, Hasan watched Lucius step through the barrier after his wife, and then he followed.

.oOo.

Hasan passed through the barrier gracefully, blinking in wonder at the sheer mass of hidden people. Families were packed comfortably throughout the hustle and bustle, kissing reluctant kids, or beaming at eager children ready to be sent off to yet another lovely year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hasan glimpsed the Malfoy's off talking with some other (probably pureblood) family, and walking away. Damn, they moved fast. Hasan was actually in indecision at this point. He didn't want to make it so blatantly obvious as to follow Draco like a lapdog, but he was determined to get close one way or another. Yet, why cut off your other options? He smiled charmingly around the crowded station, and picked his way through until he reached a familiar face.

"Hasan!" the bushy haired witch screamed, running and giving him a hug. She was already in her witch's robes just as Hasan was in his wizard's. The excited girl seemed to remember herself a minute later, however, because she hastily removed herself from his person and blushed at the ground.

"Hello, Hermione!" Hasan replied smoothly, before beaming up at her parents. The mother looked extremely pleased that Hasan had remembered her daughter, the father, on the other hand, looked positively calculating, probably to remember his face in case Hasan 'messed' with his daughter later on in life. Helen seemed to know what Jeremy was thinking for she nudged him slightly in the arm. The husband nodded then slapped a semi pleasant smile on his face, seeing as Hermione was only eleven, but well, fathers will be fathers, and he was only looking out for her.

"I'm Jeremy, Hermione's father."

"Mr. Granger," Hasan smiled, "I call myself Hasan."

The man looked oddly at his sentence structure, but before he could comment, Hermione pounced.

"Where's your father?" Hermione queried innocently, looking around at the space behind him.

"He had to work really early today, but he was kind enough to drop me off." Hasan said cheerfully, though he felt anything but.

"Oh, that's nice of him." Hermione agreed readily, but Hasan thought he saw a glimmer of understanding in her chocolate brown eyes.

"I think the Express is scheduled to leave in five minutes." Helen remarked to Hermione's absolute excitement.

"I can't wait!" she squealed, hastily giving her parents a hug.

Hasan watched them as they embraced, with slowly blinking eyes. He added this to his list of things he knew about love and family, which was admittedly very short, seeing as his only real (he used this word loosely for he was never quite sure what real was) family was Altair, and even that was just for three years. Yet remarkably, Hasan didn't feel a pang of jealousy, or regret at not having parents. Goodness knew he had his own moments of emotion but generally speaking, he was rather unattached to his sensitive side. It wasn't like he knew his parents. It didn't make sense to mourn over ideas.

As Hermione turned back around, her parent's handed her her owl and trunk, before she waved good-bye to them and walked with Hasan to the Hogwarts Express.

"You've got an owl." Hasan observed, nodding to the gray and white feathered creature.

Hermione nodded eagerly. She had actually gotten in the owl in hopes of being more like Hasan, and having something they might share. "I named him Caelus. After the sky god, you know?"

The two clambered aboard, and quickly found an empty compartment near the back of the train. Hasan put his trunk on the floor and Raven beside him. Hermione watched him and then did much the same. Just as the train began to move, blowing a cloud of steam with a high-pitched whistle, their compartment door slid open rather suddenly, revealing a pale, red-headed boy with freckles dotting his nose.

"Er, hi." the newcomer said, letting himself inside and plopping his things down before glancing up wearily. "Um, everywhere else is full." he said rather lamely. "Do you mind?"

Hermione glanced at Hasan before nodding her assent. The thing about Hermione was that she desperately wished for friends, approval, or praise in general. This didn't make her a bad person or a weak person, but it did make her agree rather easily to things she obviously wouldn't have been too sure of agreeing to otherwise. For instance, this boy's manners clearly startled her (offense was too strong a word for the first encounter), but she wanted to make as many friends as possible, whether that meant having this new boy's acceptance, or Hasan's approval.

"Hi, I'm Ron, Ron Weasley." the freckled boy said quietly, settling awkwardly next to Hasan. He kept about a foot of space between them, his hands fidgeting as he looked at them both.

Weasley...Hasan vaguely remembered Altair saying that the Weasley's were what some considered blood-traitors. Altair didn't believe in such inane drivel as blood prejudices, and had even began a study on why blood had no effect on one's magical output.

"I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione introduced herself quickly. "And that's Hasan Castell."

"Hello." Hasan said kindly, shaking the Weasley boy's hand. "That was close. Did you get here late?"

Ron's pallor suddenly flushed a brilliant tomato red. "Um, I came on time, but I was just looking for someone."

"Really, who?" Hermione asked with interest. Ron fidgeted some more before cracking.

"Harry Potter." Ron admitted with some reluctance.

"Why? Surely you know that he's been training in the mountains! It was in the Daily Prophet this morning!"

Wait, mountains? Hasan thought dubiously.

"Yeah, that's what the fifth compartment I checked told me." Ron said. "Knew I shouldn't have trusted Fred and George." he muttered. Hasan assumed that these were just two of his brothers, the twins if he remembered correctly.

"It's odd, I know. All through August the aurors were searching Diagon Alley over for Harry Potter. It seemed they were trying to keep his location under wraps from the Ministry, whoever sent him for training that is." Hermione said thoughtfully.

Just then a tiny squeak could be heard from Ron's robe pocket. A tiny brown nose peaked out, and then a little rodent head.

"You have a rat...as a pet?" Hermione stated, looking between the rat and Ron alternatively.

"His name's Scabbers, got him from Percy." Ron said proudly, taking the rodent in his hand. It's nose swiveled back and forth in the air, as if dancing before looking back at Ron.

Hasan couldn't quite place it, but it seemed as if the rat had been listening. As if it were intelligent, as strange as that seemed. Then again, he was riding on the Hogwarts Express to a magical school, so what did he know anymore?

"Hey, want to hear a spell?" Ron asked, which immediately caused Hermione to rave at top speed about everything she had done and knew and learned for Hogwarts. Hasan had zoned out during this time, a time long enough for the sweets' trolley to visit them (then pass on as Ron had a squished sandwich and Hermione was talking and Hasan didn't care), until Hermione had gone silent, letting Ron actually start the spell.

"Sunshine daisies-" Hermione's frowned dubiously as she debated whether to tell him that it wasn't a spell. She wanted to be polite, but she just knew things about spells, and that certainly was not a spell, "-Butter mellow!-"

Luckily, she needn't have worried so much over it, for the compartment door slid open at that precise moment. Hasan picked his head up at this, finally something to break the boredom, and his eyes brightened considerably when he saw the familiar face of Draco Malfoy, and two boys who looked more like bodyguards than friends, on either side of him.

"You call that a spell?" Draco sneered, glancing at Ron's wand hovering over the rat with distaste. "And what is that? A rat? How fitting: hand-me-down robes, red hair and freckles. You must be a Weasley."

"Go away, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, though he quickly stowed his wand and rat away.

"No, you see, I actually want to talk to someone here."

"Who?" Ron asked challengingly, raising an eyebrow in such an amateur way that Hasan fought hard not to roll his eyes. At least Hermione had more brains. She looked to Hasan with curious eyes, wondering if this new boy was a friend or a foe.

"Hello, Hasan. I'm sorry we couldn't find you before now, but don't worry. We have room for you in our compartment."

"Who says he wants to leave with you?" Ron said, force wavering just a bit.

"Who wouldn't?" Draco then swept his eyes over Hermione and landed on Hasan. "You'll soon find that some witches and wizards are better than others." His eyes lingered on Weasley as he said 'others'. "Come on, I can't stand to be in a Weasel's presence any longer."

Hasan glanced at Draco's offered hand of friendship and resolved to start his plan.

"Of course." Hasan said evenly, somewhat amused as Ron gaped at him, while he grabbed his trunk and owl. Hermione was staring at him sadly, not sure what to do anymore. "If only there's one more spot for an extremely intelligent witch." Hasan knew he was laying it on thick, and that Ron was on the verge of a heart attack, but Hermione seemed too intelligent (and too dependent) to let go. Hasan knew this witch had potential, and it all started with friendliness at the beginning to gain a powerful ally in the future.

Draco didn't need to think twice, he only really wanted Hasan anyway. So what if he brought a friend along? He didn't even ask if she was pureblood in his happiness.

"Whatever you wish."*

Hermione's face lit up at not being forgotten, but then she looked at Ron and frowned as her guilt took over. She didn't want to be a hypocrite and abandon Ron, but then...Hasan smiled at her, and she remembered how nice the boy had been the other day. And Ron had been incredibly rude by barging into their compartment. Really, Ron didn't belong with them anyway. But even as she followed Hasan out of the compartment, guilt was flooding her heart.

.oOo.

Ron was gaping. What the bloody hell had just happened? He had thought he had friends, or, er acquaintances at least. Leave it to Malfoy to take everything away from him just because his family was a bunch of blood-traitors. Ron didn't fully understand the prejudice, but he knew it was wrong. So why did they follow him? Why Malfoy of all people? (Not that he knew Draco at all). Perhaps he had been too assertive coming into their compartment. Maybe obnoxious even? Ron frowned as he began to wonder: Well why wouldn't they go with Malfoy? At that moment, he decided on his own to be more courteous. Maybe if he had, they wouldn't have left quite so quickly...He unwrapped his squished turkey sandwich and ate sadly before a boy poked his head in and asked about his toad...

.oOo.

Meanwhile, Draco had sent his goons (introduced at Crabbe and Goyle) up ahead, so that he might get to chat with the two first.

"I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself properly." Draco said superciliously. "Draco Malfoy." He held his hand out for Hermione to shake, who did so carefully.

"Hermione Granger." she said quietly. Her eager attitude was somewhat dampened by her guilt, but in reality, Hasan much preferred this less hyper version. Malfoy brought her small hand up to kiss delicately, thinking he might as well do the whole nine yards.

"Granger...I'm afraid I haven't heard that name before." Draco turned his silver eyes to Hasan. "Is she a relative?"

"A muggleborn." Hasan said blandly, watching as Draco struggled for an inkling of what to do. Holy hell, he had just kissed, not just touched and talked to, but kissed a mudblood!

"A mudblood?" Draco echoed, unable to stop himself. Apparently, he was unable to stop the derogatory tone in which he said it, because Hermione was suddenly very nervous. Perhaps she should have stayed with Ron...She played with her fingers and wet her lips unconsciously.

Hasan knew how offensive 'mudblood' was, yet he didn't appear to be too concerned. It was the same thing with Voldemort, he reasoned. Words made people react a certain way, but words were entirely separated from the emotion. It was like dominoes, a game he played at the orphanage a lot when it rained. He supposed his 'heartlessness' was just another thing to mark him as weird.

"What's a mudblood?" Hermione whispered to Hasan, her curiosity outlasting her instinctual offense.

"Mudblood is a word only the filth of the Wizarding World use, Hermione. Don't be too upset that Draco's not a thesaurus."

Filth? Filth! Malfoy's were many things but certainly not the scum of the Magical community! That lay with the mudbloods and the blood-traitors. Why? Well, he wasn't entirely sure. Still, he was angry, and while angry, he reminded himself he needed desperately to know Hasan...to please his dad. Actually, pleasing his dad would have been the answer to the former question. His next question: What on earth was a thesaurus? But he knew he had to appease Hasan somehow, so he quickly stuck a remorseful mask on his face and told Hermione in the nicest of terms:

"It's just a word, Hermione. I shouldn't have used it."

So, not a direct apology, but it was as close as anyone was bound to get! Besides, Hermione seemed to take his...explanation at face value.

"Oh, erm. That's okay?"

He turned to Hasan who was eyeing him speculatively.

"I never meant to insinuate you were filth, Malfoy. I simply stated a fact." Hasan observed tonelessly.

It was then that Malfoy had that bitter experience of half-satisfation and half-indignation that came from a half-assed apology. He then realized with a jolt that that was exactly what he had done to Hermione, but Malfoy's were Malfoy's, he wasn't about to apologize again. Still, it peeved him that Hasan was able to create these emotions in him, but when he looked up Hasan wasn't smug or complacent, he was just there. There existing and stating facts- just like he had said.

"Well, the compartment's this way," Draco said, leading them further down to a room on the left. Hasan followed, rather bored, but Hermione was a bundle of nerves. Draco slid open the door, ushered them inside to be met with,-

"Dray, who're they?" a pug-faced girl asked with obvious disgust.

"My friends." Draco stated, shooting the girl a glare that basically dared her to make another noise. "This is Hermione Granger-" Draco started with her first in order to get the whole blood thing out of the way. Predictably, Blaise Zabini, a black boy with catlike eyes, quirked an eyebrow at her name.

"Draco, she's not a pureblood. Why'd you bring her here?" All the pureblood families were related in some way, and Granger was certainly not on that list.

Draco fixed him with an icy Malfoy stare that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

"Blood has no effect on the mind, and Hermione despite her birth, clearly has a brilliant mind." Draco emphasized her first name to indicate his approval and familiarity with her. Even if the others didn't like it, Draco was still the boss, and exceptions were quite common.

Hasan's jade eyes widened imperceptibly since he knew Malfoy was totally winging this. But why was he going out on a limb? Why not turn the girl out and say it was a mistake? Perhaps Malfoy really was desperate to spy on him through gaining his favor...or maybe Draco was just so impressionable he was changing.

Some of the other members of the group were also quite surprised at this. Pug-face was still licking her wounds by frowning at the ground, and Blaise appeared rather confused. Crabbe and Goyle didn't appear to be paying any attention, while the other two, a quiet boy with light brown hair and a strong jaw, and a seemingly gentle girl with soft blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair, were listening patiently.

"And him?" blue-eyes urged him along, while at the same time giving Hasan's long brown braid a curious glance.

"Hasan. We met at Diagon yesterday." Draco said, before sitting beside pug-face and indicating for Hasan to sit on the other side of him, next to the door. Hermione seemed lost for a moment as Hasan and Draco left her standing alone, before the blue-eyed girl offered the space beside her.

"What's his last name?" Blaise asked, seemingly under a compulsion charm to know everyone's blood status through their last name.

"I-" Draco paused and then frowned. He didn't want to be seen as an idiot, so more for self-defense than common courtesy he said, "Hasan is here you know. You can ask him."

The other occupants of the compartment turned expectantly to the jade-eyed boy. Hasan knew that out of all of Hogwarts, these kids would immediately know what his last name meant. Then again, if Altair had really wanted secrecy, he would've changed Hasan's last name so that the envelope would be addressed to someone else. (Come to think of it, Hasan didn't know how the letters were addressed.) Or better yet, send him to Beauxbatons.

So having happily deduced there was no harm in telling these kids what would soon become common knowledge, he elucidated their oh-so-pressing curiosity.

"Hasan Castell."

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 5: Sorting and Classes

"Hasan Castell."

As soon as the name left his lips, he was sure there would be much more commentary on blood this or family that. What he was not expecting were several blank looks, interspersed between confused glances.

"Castell...?" Blaise repeated quietly for the group, glancing at the faces of his Slytherin friends as if searching for clues. Finally, the little pundit seemed to have racked his brains through his entire library full of extensive pureblood knowledge, for he gave up and just decided to ask the damning question: "Are you pureblood?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" strong-jaw muttered, rolling his eyes much to Hasan's amusement. "Blood doesn't dictate everything!" With this, he met Hermione's eyes steadily, before biting his lip and looking hastily away. Tracey caught the glance and stifled a smirk behind her hand. The exchange captured Draco and Pansy's attention at least, which was good he supposed, because Hasan wasn't entirely sure what to say.

He knew he was Harry Potter, and though Altair had most helpfully kept away any knowledge of Harry Potter from him, Hasan had indeed figured out some things on his own. If Voldemort (he insisted on saying his name inside his head at least), was so obsessed over blood purity like Altair had told him, then the Potter's were probably not pureblood. The imperio would have taken care of opposition if they were, but if they were not, it wouldn't be worth the hassle. This left the options of half-blood and muggleborn, and Hasan was pretty sure his parents weren't muggles. (For this would ask the question: Why had Voldemort gone after those particular muggles? Why not massacre the lot?) In addition, Hasan was pretty sure Draco wouldn't appreciate defending yet another muggleborn.

"Half-blood." Hasan answered promptly, and then he realized he was an idiot: Altair Castell was a pureblood. Oh, if they just looked up the name! He thought rapidly and added, "I'm from France so we may have distant relatives in Britain under the same name?...Désolé, sorry."

He knew it was an unnecessary precaution, a bit of fine print that would probably cause even more suspicion (should they choose to pry), but now Hasan had a safety net: if they found out the Castell's were pureblood then they'd just think, but oh, Hasan's from France...Nothing like the prospect of international research to shake curious Slytherins from a search!

"Like Bulstrode." Pug-face cut in, "Not bad I suppose." she nodded reluctantly. Blaise still seemed putout, but otherwise didn't comment.

"I think it's only fair we know your names." Hasan said. Hermione nodded her agreement readily and Draco began roll-call.

"This is Pansy Parkinson." Draco said, indicating to Pug-face next to him. "That's Crabbe and Goyle, you have already met them, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott beside him (that was strong jaw) and finally Tracey Davis beside Hermione. We're such a large group that some of the girls had to go to the next room."

"And what group would that be?" Hermione asked, seeming to be more comfortable with asking questions with Tracey by her side, and Theo smiling from across.

"Well, we all expect to be sorted into Slytherin." Tracey informed her matter-of-factly. "It's, er, it's a house at Hogwarts."

Hermione flushed profusely, "I know, I read Hogwarts: A History."

"Wow, I haven't even cracked a book open yet." Theo said in admiration.

"Oh, well, I was excited." Hermione admitted, a tinge of pink on her cheeks.

"Of course you were-" Pansy muttered, just barely restraining herself from tacking on 'Mudblood' for fear of offending Draco.

The rest of the train ride passed much in the same fashion: Theo and Tracey being nice. Pansy trying to get Draco's attention, and Hasan watching everyone closely. By the end of the ride, Hermione felt she had made a new friend. Hasan, on the other hand, was busy entertaining Draco with petty questions like "What is your owl's name?...Why is that your owl's name?"

Draco was easy enough to keep occupied, his favorite subject was soon discovered: himself.

This was going to be much easier than he thought.

.oOo.

Hagrid watched as the last of them piled in the little boats. He tried suppressing a salty giant tear that was gathering in his eye, but it grew too heavy and dampened his large, wild beard. He was sure he would recognize Harry anywhere.

Those emerald eyes, Lily's eyes...they couldn't possibly remain hidden, nor ever be forgotten! The Daily Prophet had already come out with an article with Snape's proposed "Out-in-the-mountains" plan, and therefore the kids weren't as crazy about searching for the Boy-Who-Lived amongst their ranks. Yet he did catch a few that continually looked about them, that Longbottom boy for one, he seemed to be searching for something rather intently...all Hagrid could do was smile, hold back tears and announce to the next generation of students that Hogwarts would now, and forever, be their home and family.

.oOo.

A tall, stern looking witch in rich green robes and a pointed green witch's hat met them at the entrance of the Great Hall. Her name was Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she had a very elegant air about her that Hasan immediately latched onto. As she explained to the first years the Opening Feast, the Sorting Ceremony they were soon to take part in, the house points, and the house cup, Hasan noticed her eyes rove over them keenly, yet half-heartedly, as if searching for something she knew to be gone. She nodded firmly before bursting open the double doors of the Great Hall...

Hermione stuck very close to Hasan, almost annoyingly so, who in turn was never more than three feet away from Draco (and certainly not from Hasan's doing). Nearby, Ron Weasley could be seen with a boy who introduced himself with "Hi, I'm Neville Longbottom. Have you seen my toad?" Ron sent a half-longing half-loathing glance their way before blinking, rather startled as a loud RRRRRIBBET! cut through the air.

Even Professor McGonagall looked startled for a moment before Neville cried,-

"TREVOR!" and tried desperately to catch the hopping toad. Most of the girls shrieked, and cringed back in terror, which in turn caused some of the occupants of the Great Hall, closest to the doors, to look outside in curiosity. Oh, those funny first years!

"Neville! Catch him!"

"He's over here! Eeeeek!"

"Neville!"

"Longbottom!"

By the time Neville had managed to grasp the poor toad with both of his hands, most of the Great Hall was talking about the strange boy named Neville and his funny toad named Trevor, making his cheeks flush form pink to scarlet. McGonagall sighed, giving Neville a sympathetic look with the words "Keep a good hold on him now," before leading the first years up the center of the hall, so that they could begin the Sorting.

Hasan gazed at the enchanted ceiling in awe, through the millions of floating candles, thinking how wonderful magic was. Apparently others did too as they goggled at it, and Professor McGonagall had to quickly inform them that it was enchanted to show the actual sky above Hogwarts before their chatter got too out of hand. As the kids came into view, whispers of Neville soon dissolved into gossip of the Boy-Who-Lived, and 'Did you see that Daily Prophet article?' 'Yeah, what a letdown.'

Despite knowing that the Wizarding World's savior was off fighting mountainous dragons and such, the rest of the school had more enthusiasm than ever in examining the fresh meat. Neville was easy to spot out as his face was still flushed, that and he was standing next to Ron Weasley with his flaming hair. It also didn't help that two kids in the crowd (Fred and George, Hasan's mind supplied) kept shouting things like "Ickle Ronnykins!" drawing even more attention to the flaming duo.

When the noise had quieted down some, an ancient, weary man walked up to the front of the staff table, wearing sky blue, shimmering robes and a floppy blue hat. He reminded Hasan of a very elderly Gandalf, if there was such a thing, and he seemed to protrude wisdom and magic. He also had twinkling starry blue eyes resting behind a pair of half-moon spectacles that seemed to give him a grandfatherly glow. But Hasan knew better- he didn't need Altair's weird ability to be able to tell that this wizard was a force to be reckoned with...

Dumbledore said some artful nonsense, something about the third floor corridor being forbidden, and some other things about Harry Potter training in the mountains that Hasan didn't particularly care about. No, he was much more interested in the people sitting behind Professor Dumbledore than Professor Dumbledore himself.

The first teacher to catch his interest was Hagrid, some part giant, he was sure, but only because he was so hard to miss and Hasan had seen him twice already- once in the Leaky Cauldron, once at the boats. He looked a bit distraught over something, and continually dabbed his leaking eyes with his cloth napkin.

Logically, the second Hasan's eyes sought out was Professor Quirrell, wearing a gaudy purple turban, probably called amethyst to make him feel better. Quirrell was odd, and even from far away, Hasan knew that his father was probably right: this man was dark and most likely hiding something. Probably under an analogous turban...how funny...until their eyes met and Hasan received the tiniest yet sharpest of pinpricks to his forehead. Gods, it just felt so...painful! He made no movement, though, not hinting that anything was wrong, even as Quirrell turned his attention away from him, his mask did not fall. The pinpricks disappeared immediately and Hasan was left wondering why on earth he had reacted like that. The scar...He'd ponder it later, he decided as his gaze fell on the greasy-haired man beside the DADA professor.

This man had stern features too, yet was so unlike McGonagall (not that he had proof of that yet), that he couldn't help but bite his lip and frown. Greasy-Hair had a slightly hooked nose, sallow cheeks and thin lips, a gaunt figure overall, yet Hasan could tell his eyes were a glittering, obsidian black. He peered at Hasan with remarkable focus, and Hasan peered back-

"Oh, that's Severus Snape, my godfather." Draco drawled proudly. But just at that moment, Snape turned his entire head ever so fractionally towards the first years in general, and Hasan immediately snapped his attention back to the front. (Draco caught his eye and waved though, which was met by a barely palpable nod.)

Presently, Professor Dumbledore took a slight bow and students cheered as Professor McGonagall quickly slipped in his place. She held up an old, fraying black hat, probably older than Dumbledore, and declared it to be the Hogwarts Sorting Hat. Ron sighed out a relieved breath at this before glaring in the general direction of his twin brothers...he had been so scared, and it was just a hat! An ugly frown settled on his face and some of the kids even edged away from him.

McGonagall settled the artifact carefully on a low wooden stool ositioned at the front of the hall, and the room immediately became silent, buzzing almost in anticipation. Dumbledore couldn't remember a time when the room was quieter, but he supposed the reasoning was that Harry Potter hadn't been missing then. It was pretty obvious that they were all just interested in hearing the 'P's, but decided to be polite in general. Dead silence. And then the hat began to sing...

.oOo.

...The Hall erupted into loud applause as McGonagall yelled with a magically magnified voice, "Abbott, Hannah!"

The girl in question scampered to the stool, let the professor drop the hat on her head (and cover her eyes) before, amazingly, the hat called out,-

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hasan heard, rather than saw, Draco smirk beside him, as the Hufflepuff table welcomed her eagerly. The pattern repeated itself: name, hat, house. And Hasan found himself quite interested as to how the hat did what it did, and where the hat would place him.

He wondered absently if his parents belonged to a particular house, and if Voldemort did as well. He figured that Voldemort was probably in Slytherin from all the blood-purity drivel, infused within the Slytherin wannabes. Hmm, that was food for thought.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!" McGonagall called, pulling a haglike witch from the crowd of firsties. So that's the half-blood Pansy was talking about, Hasan thought. She pulled the hat onto her own head, as her hands went to ball into fists in her lap.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The girl hopped down from the stool, practically threw the hat back on the stool, and went hastily off to the Slytherin table on the left side of the hall. Hasan watched as a few kids made room for her, the half-blood: apparently some Slytherins didn't care about blood status or they were just ignorant. Perhaps some were even kind. Hasan wasn't much for categorizing people: shoving them in a box, as he called it. And so, tried to withhold judgment of the house of snakes. He'd have an open mind when confronting the hat, yes, well easier said than done...

.oOo.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips as she took in the name before her: Castell, Hasan. How odd! She couldn't recall a Castell since, goodness! 1965, Lucius Malfoy's year! She glanced at the list, just to make sure was reading correctly, for in all their time reviewing the list she had never once read that name...

But maybe, they were all so obsessed with Harry Potter that they had overlooked a student? Minerva fell into a pit of ashen guilt. They had all vowed not to treat the boy any differently when he got to Hogwarts, but it seemed as if they already had! How could she have missed this child? Wasn't he every bit as deserving as Potter? In all her time at Hogwarts, she had never once forgotten a name from the list! She hadn't noticed how long her inner musings had been going on until Albus cleared his throat loudly from the staff table.

By this time, however, all the students were curious about the holdup. They hadn't gotten to the P's yet, had they? Decidedly not, even Crabbe and Goyle knew their alphabet!

Minerva cleared her throat.

"Castell, Hasan!"

Severus' onyx eyes snapped to the crowd of children, eager to identify this puzzle piece of sorts. He guessed why Minerva had hesitated: She probably felt guilty about overlooking a child, and with her Gryffindor pride, had not once thought that the name wasn't there but a few weeks before... He was happy in a way though, because none of the other staff members ever realized how much lenience they had already given the Boy-Who-Lived. It was about time someone woke up and realized that all kids should be treated the same way! (He was such a hypocrite on this account, but chose not to dwell on it in the glory of the moment.)

From the huddled group of first years, a lean, handsome boy with rich brown hair in a thick braid down his right shoulder emerged. Oddly enough, he seemed to have been standing with his godson! Oh, Merlin! Could he never catch a break? Was Lucius prying too? Severus watched as the boy strode gracefully over to the stool, accepted the hat graciously from Minerva (whom had handed it to him, probably out of guilt), and seated himself primly.

Then, with the whole hall watching, Hasan dropped the hat onto his head, plunging his world in darkness.

"Oh, what do we have here?"

Hasan bit his lip, but otherwise relaxed with his hands holding the edges of the stool.

"You can speak?" Hasan wondered, finding it fascinating how the voice was speaking from inside his mind.

"I much prefer to sing. I'm a song writer, you know. "the hat said cheerfully, "But it's my job, first and foremost, to send you kids where they need to be!"

Hasan wasn't sure how he felt having a hat dig inside his mind, but it wasn't like he was given a choice. The voice inside his head was quiet for a few seconds while it thought before saying,-

"Ah! This is a remarkable discovery indeed...Mr. Potter."

Hasan wasn't stupid enough to ask 'how do you know?' but he did ask if the hat would tell anyone. "Why would I?" the hat countered. "Technically you are, for all intents and purposes, Hasan Castell. You mind seems to separate the two, and as long as you continue to think of yourself that way, then that is who you are and have become."

"It's because I'm dreaming." Hasan explained. "If I wake up one day back in the orphanage, then I'll just be Harry."

Hasan thought he heard the hat sigh if hats could sigh.

"Hmm. A rather interesting notion, Mr. Castell. Logical enough to make a Ravenclaw proud, but your intent behind it...now that is Slytherin. Self-preservation, protection, deception, those are most Slytherin tactics indeed." the hat murmured. "You even hid it from your own father."

"He's not really my father." Hasan informed the hat. "He's more of a mentor. My real parents are dead." Hasan thought for a moment. "By the way, where were they sorted?"

"Well, your parents, Lily and James were both lions, but that shouldn't have any bearing on what you will become." the hat said confidently. "In fact, you know better than I that it's not on the outside, but what lies within...so better be-"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"...thank you..." Hasan thought.

He slipped the hat fluidly off his head, to stare at the silent hall before him. Everyone's eyes were peering at him curiously, but he wasn't shaken by the attention. Instead, he lithely alighted from the stool, and handed the sorting hat back to Professor McGonagall with a nod of thanks. The stunned witch accepted the proffered hat with an inscrutable expression on her visage. The child had been under the hat for nearly ten minutes! TEN MINUTES! It wasn't unheard of, certainly, but...goodness! The hall protruded deafening silence, but Hasan seemed to ignore it all. He made his way carefully over to the Slytherin table, and as he was walking, the applause seemed to grow from a single clap to a thunderous roar.

A thin boy, a year old than Hasan, made room for him at the table before shaking his hand with, "Hello, I'm Adrian Pucey."

"I call myself Hasan." he said, though he felt ridicules seeing as Professor McGonagall had already said it. A boy next to Adrian, about the same age, but with a large build and blank face introduced himself as Cassius Warrington, and Millicent Bulstrode, across the table looked at him curiously. Up close, the girl wasn't that bad to look at. She was no doubt strong, judging by her large arm muscles, but she had pretty black hair and a pleasant enough face. As the older students clambered to shake their new housemate's hand, Cassius asked,-

"Did you and the hat have a nice long tea party? You must have been under there for an hour!"

Hasan shrugged. "I'm not sure about an hour, but the hat was definitely talkative." It wasn't that he couldn't identify the jeering tone, but that he just chose to ignore it. Millicent seemed to respect him for this because she let a small smile brighten her face. It was an amazing transformation really. The four Slytherins chatted quietly, Tracey Davis joining soon enough and making it five, until Granger, Hermione was called to the front, and Hasan withdrew immediately from the conversation.

.oOo.

Hermione now was in a situation: she wanted to be in Gryffindor originally, because she knew Harry Potter fit the mold, but Harry Potter was not here! And so, Ravenclaw suited her best. But Hasan had just been sorted into Slytherin! She wanted to join him, but thinking back to the uncomfortable train ride, she knew she would never feel at home with her Slytherin peers.

She thought all this as she walked shakily up to the hat, placing it carefully on her head, and waited.

"Just place me where I belong! Wherever I belong!" Hermione chanted over and over to herself.

"Why, of course! I always do!" a cheerful old voice spoke in her mind.

It caught Hermione by surprise, even though she had suspected something like a conversation with it. Still, having a foreign anything in your mind was not a usual experience.

"Hmm, you've got a brilliant mind, that much is clear...oh, potential, great potential, yes! And a natural born leader."

"Leader?" Hermione repeated in disbelief. She had the lowest self-esteems in the world! Which was subsequently why she needed to impress others with her knowledge.

"Yes! You have very strong opinions, it's all in here...in your mind. But that doesn't mean you need to force your opinions on others...Ah! I see you want to follow Hasan and Tracey, but why? You're a leader, not a follower. I see that you agree. No, Slytherin is not where you will reach your full potential...Not even Ravenclaw...No, you can achieve so much more if you're in-

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat decreed.

The Gryffindor table, on the far right, exploded in applause as the brown-haired witch hopped happily off to join them. But she couldn't help but send a sheepish smile to Hasan, until, surprisingly, he smiled too. Right, Hermione, you're a leader! A leader! Don't worry about what others think, Hasan obviously approves. Her smile grew even more radiant as she sat with the lions, near Lavender Brown and the Weasley twins.

Hasan was also happy. Hermione Granger might be intelligent, but he didn't want to babysit her twenty-four seven. Hasan saw potential in her, but also knew she had to grow before she might be of any use to him...

The rest of the feast was also rather uneventful. Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Hermione were sorted into Gryffindor (plus a few others), as Millie (as they called her), Tracey, Daphne, Pansy, Draco, Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were sorted into Slytherin, making a little first year group near Hasan. It was the first time he had met many of the girls, and Hasan could tell that Slytherin guys and girls played in very different fields. These girls were cold and calculating for their age of eleven. Well, Tracey was alright, though he was sure that was a persona too, and Daphne seemed nice enough (only because she knew Malfoy really well and Hasan was his friend.)

The food was delicious, but he couldn't help shaking the feeling that someone was watching him very closely.

.oOo.

After a few days, Hasan felt rather settled in good old Hogwarts! Once he got over the owl deliveries in the morning, the rest of the magical culture including the ghosts didn't surprise him as much. The Bloody Baron didn't even move much from his own secret lair in the dungeons. Which wasn't much comfort since the Slytherin dorms were located in the dungeons. But on the bright side, they were simply lovely to live in, in that creepy 'death resides here' way...and he loved the green décor. It wasn't exactly emerald green, but it was still better than those noble scarlet and gold colors. As an added bonus, the snake was the Slytherin mascot! He thought of Tina often, and when he spoke of her to Malfoy, he was pretty sure Malfoy believed Tina to be a dog...it amused Hasan to no end.

On the first night, Professor Snape introduced himself to the first years. He had rather oily hair that fell to about his chin, and glinting black eyes that seemed to take in everything about him.

"...for the next seven years, this house will be your family. Many do not look kindly on Slytherins, and you will soon learn the benefits of unification. I expect you all to uphold this name proudly..."

Amazingly, his was the only voice in the room. He had that sort of aura about him that basically stifled any opposition. Hasan found this magical. At the end of the speech, Snape took leave of them with his cloak billowing behind him, and the prefects led the new snakes to their dorms. It was a shock really when they came upon a small hallway, from which jutted five separate rooms.

"Do the other houses have dorms like these?" Theo asked. The prefect blushed scarlet before snapping,

"How the hell should I know?"

Apparently they did. Hasan supposed it was because out of all of the houses, Slytherins had about as much trust as one could throw them, and with Crabbe and Goyle, well, that wasn't exactly far. Draco choose the door at the end of the hall facing the entrance, Crabbe and Goyle flanked him (doors facing across from one another), Blaise and Theo were on the other side of their rooms, and Hasan was at the very end, closes to the exit.

The interior of the chamber was admittedly much larger than the outside suggested (by the proximity of the doors.) The walls were cream-colored, with a black chair rail, and black wall trim in squares underneath. Under the chair rail, the walls were a pale sage green. A chest of drawers lay off to the side of the bed, the bed itself being a large four-poster with cream and green covers, and silver curtains to draw around oneself for privacy.

Hasan found his trunk at the foot of his bed, with Raven settled on top.

"Hey, girl." Hasan whispered, poking his fingers through the cage. Raven looked at him tiredly, before shutting her eyes again. "Must be tired." Hasan murmured. "I wonder if there's anywhere to keep her..."

He turned back to his trunk, lifted Raven's cage off of it, and cast engorgio to return it to it proper size. Hasan quickly got dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and long gray pants, then head out to the bathrooms which they had passed.*

.oOo.

Severus Snape spent the next few days completing the Muted Sight potion. On Thursday, he went down to the Hog's Head inn and pub, and waited in his usual dark corner. It was nearly midnight, and he was thoroughly exhausted from dealing with all the dunderheads that made up the mass of Hogwarts' student body. He waited, contemplating what he would say to the man. Perhaps starting off with a friendly: 'Why the hell didn't you tell me?' and then following it up with a 'How the hell is this laying low?'

Thinking back to the sorting, he was rather surprised to observe Hasan's ease and indifference to the silence. He seemed very calm and collected...a very Slytherin trait. The boy was handsome, but when he glimpsed the boy's eyes, Merlin!

They were blank.

Oh, it wasn't that they were pitch black, or milky white, or that he was missing a pupil or had cataracts or anything, no, they were just...blank. He couldn't identify what about them threw him off, just that, they were too perfect, or unnatural, or simply too natural. It was all very concerning. Hasan Castell had the dullest pair of jade green eyes Snape had ever seen. Not that green was an altogether common color, but jade should certainly be uncommon, yes?

When he finally broke out of his thoughts, he noticed it was 12:20. He found that he wasn't really surprised. Well that settled it, Altair Castell was definitely involved. Snape trudged back to the castle, strode to his private office and almost froze as he saw a large brown owl on his desk. It blinked at him, holding out a leg with a little note attached to it. It had the usual anti-theft, disillusionment, anti-tamper, &c. spells on it, but Snape undid them easily with a wave of his wand. He took the letter from the owl, whom promptly flew out the window (a tiny one leading out to beyond the Great Lake), and sat in his desk chair to read it.

"Severus,

I can live without the potion for a few months. It's too risky, Lucius spotted me in Diagon Alley and told his son, Draco I think, to keep watch. In my defense my hair was white...anyway, keep watch over my son, won't you?

Castell"

Severus sighed and nearly growled. This! This letter proved just how little brains the man possessed. Luck, certainly, good ears, very, but putting all this information in a letter? Putting both of their names in a letter? Thinking a change in hair style would serve as adequate protection? Salazar, help the man!

So then,...how had he managed to raise a son without him knowing?

.oOo.

Professor McGonagall was sad to say the least. How had she failed two boys already? Poor Harry who was dead for all they knew- all because she didn't have enough Gryffindor courage to tell the headmaster 'No'- and Hasan Castell who she had managed to completely overlook! Well, never again! She licked her paw absently, waving her short little tail so that it hit the edges of her desk. It was always a great source of amusement for her when she got to play this particular trick on the firsties! She waited patiently as the children filed in. Ravenclaws and Slytherins, she believed, watching as they found a chair, chatted, and checked the door every few seconds. Comments like:

"McGonagall has a cat?"

"Is that Filches' cat?"

"Why is it watching us?"

Brought a smile to face, though in her cat form, her whiskers would twitch. Finally, the last pair of students, Draco Malfoy and Hasan Castell, no less, made it into the Transfiguration's classroom.

She drew herself up, ready to leap off the desk and transform in one fluid, feline movement, when a toneless, yet pleasant, voice rang out.

"Professor McGonagall? Is that you?"

It was Hasan Castell! Minerva leapt in the air as the children looked between her and Hasan alternatively. Within a second, the full grown woman people learned to love as Professor McGonagall had materialized in front of them!

"Correct, Mr. Castell! Ten points to Slytherin."

Draco gaped as she was known to favor her own house quite often. Perhaps she would prove to be alright.

"How did you know?" Draco whispered.

"I didn't know. I just asked for confirmation." Hasan replied with a shrug.

"And you have received it. Well done!" Minerva beamed.

Hasan felt it slightly odd that the woman was quick to please, despite her strict reputation, but he felt that this woman had a heart, and that presently, that heart was swamped with guilt. Over him.

After class, a rather boring one as she explained the basic laws of Transfiguration (like not being able to transfigure something into food), Hasan stayed behind. Draco gave him an odd look, but Hasan waved him on, saying that he'd be at lunch in a moment.

The Transfiguration's professor looked surprised at his behavior and made the usual inquiry of 'why?'

"Well, I can't help but notice that -"

Oh no! Was he going to call her out as he did about her cat? Did he detect her feelings of guilt and resolve to redeem herself? Wait, why was she nervous? It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong! She only gave him the points he deserved!

"-Transfiguration is a difficult subject."-(Minerva sighed out imperceptibly.)- "Would you be willing to help me?" Hasan asked, pleading with his jaded orbs. "I just feel so odd, being muggle raised in with the Slytherins. Everyone knows everything already." Hasan looked down at his feet as he fiddled with his fingers.

Oh the poor dear!

"Mr. Castell, I believe something can be arranged. I realize how hard it must be to just enter into the magical community, so if you have any problems, any, even if it has to do with quills or owls, please know that I will do all in my power to help."

The statement was sealed with a tilt of her chin, and Hasan couldn't have been happier.

"Well, thank you, Professor!" he chirped sweetly.

As he left, he imagined Minerva smiling warmly within herself, knowing she had done some good.

Noble Gryffindors.

.oOo.

(The Next Day.)***

"Ah! We've got Potions with the Slytherins!" Dean Thomas whined at breakfast.

"I've heard that Snape can be a real bastard." Ron grumbled as he shoveled cereal into his mouth. "Then again, Fred and George say a lot of things..."

"Oh, I don't know. We get to see Hasan again!" Hermione beamed like a puppy.

"But Hermione! You see him every day!" Ron said, piling more bacon onto his plate.

"Yes, but you don't. He's actually very nice, just...a bit, awkward?"

"Look, I can only take one awkward kid and that's Neville!" Ron shouted callously with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose.

"Um, hi guys." Neville cleared his throat from behind Ron, whom promptly shut his mouth.

"Oh, Neville! How...nice, we were just discussing Potio-"

"Yeah, I heard what you were discussing." Neville told her dejectedly, before turning away and out the hall.

"Odd that one-"

"RONALD!"

Potions came soon enough however, with the Slytherins leading the way, and the lions looking for all the world like they'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban.

"Hello, Hermione." Hasan greeted her as she walked in with the unhappy red head.

"Hasan!" she cried, assaulting him with a hug.

"Salazar, it's like they never see each other." Draco muttered.

"Tell me about it," Ron said, before he realized he had just agreed with a Malfoy. He turned his back, snapping his jaw shut audibly. Draco rolled his eyes, Weasley's...

When Hasan and Hermione were finished their tiny reunion, they all took their seats on the respected sides of the room. Basically, it was a straight line cutting Gryffindor from Slytherin, with Hermione and Hasan joining the ranks of those brave souls on the border's edge. Draco sat next to Hasan, that stupid smirk on his face as Pansy glared envious daggers as Hasan. On the other side of the room, Neville had been forced to a border seat as well because he was Neville, and no one else wanted it.

"Watch this." Draco whispered giddily to Hasan as Snape made his grand entrance into the room, cloak floating behind him in a batlike fashion. "He's going to make that Longbottom boy wet himself."

Sure enough, after Snape's intimidating 'Welcome to Potions, you are going to fail' speech, he shot question after impossible question at Neville Longbottom.

"Tell me, Mr. Longbottom, what would I get if I added Powdered Root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up immediately, but Neville was on his own.

"I-I"

"Speak up, Mr. Longbottom!"

"I don't know,...sir." he added hastily.

"Let us try again." Snape sneered as he paced the front of the class. "Where would you look if, Merlin forbid, you need use of a Bezoar?

"D-don't know, sir." At first, his terror had been contagious, but now, a few giggles were poorly stifled. Hermione's arm shot ramrod straight, and she drew herself up in her chair. Snape ignored her. Hasan ignored her.

"And finally, what is the difference between the plants Monkshood and Wolfsbane? Let us hope third time's a charm."

Hasan's head immediately perked up at hearing that familiar phrase. It was quite common in the Lord of the Rings book, but he had yet to hear its use in everyday speech- if Snape was considered a good example of an average person's vocabulary.

This time, Hermione was on her feet before Ron tugged her down with a harsh whisper. Hermione glared at him with a hmf, before turning her bushy hair in his face.

"I-I don't know, sir...but um, I think Hermione does." Neville said tentatively, looking at Hermione in horror (as she was now sitting down), causing Draco to smirk with glee. Snape snapped his head so fast towards Hermione that she actually blinked in surprise.

"I think not! For your information, Mr. Longbottom, the Powdered Root of Asphodel and Wormwood would make the Draught of Living Death, a very powerful sleeping potion. The Bezoar is a stone, taken from the stomach of a goat and will be a cure for most poisons. As for the third, they are the exact same plant which also goes by the name of Aconite."**

While Altair had never formally trained Hasan in potions (probably another way of keeping Hasan from finding out about his magic seeing condition and thereby the truth- idiot logic really,) even Hasan knew these three answers.

His previous depravation of knowledge made Hasan do some serious pre-reading during his last month of summer, and the first answer was found in the middle chapter. The second question about the bezoar wasn't necessarily a potions question, as it was also basic survivalist information. As for the third, that was in the beginning of his A-Z potion supplies book. (Something he bought for enrichment.)

"Well, why aren't you copying that all down?" Snape bellowed, causing an immediate search for quills, ink, and parchment. "And thirty-three points from Gryffindor for inadequate preparation!"

Hasan glanced at Draco as he was one of the only daring ones not moving, but Draco murmured that he had known all the answers already. Hasan did too, but he also knew it would draw too much attention to them both if they were both sitting still. So Hasan took out his writing supplies and made a short-hand note complete with equal signs and arrows. Draco's lips quirked up in amusement.

The rest of the lesson was rather uneventful. They went over potion's supplies and equipment, as well as the basic properties of different cauldrons, and how simple directions like mince and cut should be taken very seriously. Hasan found this all very interesting, as did Hermione, he could tell, but he was almost positive that Neville hadn't heard a word. The class was dismissed soon enough.

Neville was the first one out.

.oOo.

One week later brought the Slytherins and Gryffindors back together again, in their first flying lesson of the year. The children spilled out onto the field that was already laden with twenty beat-up brooms, ten for each row. The houses naturally faced each other, sneering and smirking and glaring back defiantly. Hasan and Draco were parallel with Hermione and Neville, though it was Ron who captured the Malfoy heir's attention. Ron, tactful as ever, was glaring so heatedly at the Slytherins that his face was turning red.

Draco nudged Hasan's elbow and snickered, but Hasan was more interested in the nervous boy who had lost his toad on the very first day. It seemed that sometime during the instructions 'don't fly,' Neville Longbottom had risen rapidly into the air, with his hand grasping desperately at the broom. The poor boy's face was close to tears as he flailed around helplessly to the now unhidden snickers. At then he began to fall. Madam Hooch quickly cast a cushioning charm, but not before Neville's wrist hit the ground with an audible crack.

"LONGBOTTOM!" Madam Hooch cried. "To the infirmary with you." She walked to poor boy back herself (when no one wanted to volunteer) with strict instructions not to disobey her this time. Once she was out of sight, however, Draco grinned and snatched up a small glinting object in the grass.

"Hey! That's a remembrall!" a girl screamed.

"Wait, that's Neville's you can't touch it!" Ron growled. "Give it back!"

Draco cocked his head to the side.

"Really? Who's going to make me?" Draco sneered, hopping onto a broom and whizzing upwards with ease.

Hasan thought this all incredibly juvenile as far as instigations went, but Ron was on his broom in seconds.

"Ronald!" Hermione pleaded from the ground, but he ignored her. Soon the two boys were face to face in the air, Ron having had practice before with his brothers. What an idiot! Hermione thought.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Ron demanded, holding a hand out and causing his broom to quake under him.

"Hm, I suppose I will." Draco smirked, tossing it behind him. It took Weasley a few seconds to react, but he chased the falling object with passion!

"Whoa!" Lavender Brown oohed.

The ball was nearing the ground, Ron was fast behind it, Draco had already landed safely as if he had never gotten up in the first place, the grass, the ground, feet, inches.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

CRACK!

Ron's shoulder connected with the hard packed dirt with a sickening crack, the remembrall landing softly with a little thud. What the hell? It had a protection charm on it? Ron's eyes shut in agony as he clutched his shoulder with his good arm.

"Ronald Weasley! What were you thinking? You could've been killed!" Madam Hooch screamed as she ran onto the field.

"Malfoy! He-" Lavender protested.

"I don't want to hear it! I told you all specifically not to fly!"

"But Malfoy!"

"That is enough, Miss Brown! Ten points from Gryffindor for not being able to follow simple instructions!"

As Madam Hooch led the injured Weasley away, Hermione wiped away a tear. She just felt so guilty...when she was in ordinary school, she would always stand up for people, but then...she hadn't any friends in ordinary school either. She was so conflicted: Should she have spoken up? But the rational side of her brain told her that Lavender had spoken out and it did no good. And besides, Ron shouldn't really have...

She felt a hand at her back, and she turned to find Hasan smiling slightly at her. His jade green eyes soothed the conflict just a bit as he gave her a hug.

"Don't feel too bad Hermione." he said. "Now he knows not to be rash. It is better he learns now than later."

Hermione nodded, pulling away from the brown haired boy. She didn't know why, but the comment felt so divine, heartless yes, but it made sense. It would help Ron in the long run, right? Still, it just sounded so wrong coming from a child's mouth, as if he knew what was right and wrong just like an adult. She was affronted and in awe all at once. Just then, Draco popped up beside Hasan, a large grin cracked over his pale face.

"Did you see that?" he nearly bounced in joy, "A broken shoulder and points from Gryffindor!"

Pansy was giggling hysterically with her group of Slytherin girls, even Tracey, who was probably only there for peer pressure than anything else was following along, stifling laughs behind her hand. Draco himself was doubled over, laughing as Hasan looked on stoically.

"I'm afraid my vision was hindered by an ignoramus." Hasan said wryly, "I was gagging at the infantile tête-à-tête."

Hermione was the only one who seemed to understand the entire line, and was smiling pitifully through her tears.

"What?" Draco asked dumbfounded. Even though the language was extremely unusual (he wouldn't admit to advanced) the tone was unmistakable. (Which was saying something because Hasan was usually toneless, unless he put forth effort.)

"I think he called you an idiot." Theo piped up helpfully, respect reverberating in his voice.

"And childish!" Seamus was laughing. "Even I know what an infant is!"

Draco glared at them to back off, but was startled at the sudden hand on his shoulder.

"Let me show you how's it's done." Hasan smiled gently with a tilt of his head. Draco froze.

"Some people prefer to target pressure points." Hasan whispered, pressing softly behind his collar bone. Draco stiffened under him, trying his hardest not to let it show.

Everyone was watching now, wondering what on earth was going to happen between the two Slytherins.

"Others use brute force." Hasan said lightly, adding a smidgeon more pressure. Altair had made sure his son was well advanced in combat of any sort, and Hasan was thankful for it now.

Draco didn't react at first; he was too regal, too dignified to squeal or retreat, but then he clenched his jaws, and sought out Hasan's eyes for indications of play. He was horrified at what he saw. Cold jade eyes stared evenly back at him, those of murderer, or his father after missions when he was just a child. Draco's face paled further, turning from milky to chalk to ghostly white... "But speed always adds a factor."

Hasan could hear footsteps echoing off the castle stones and knew he had to play this just right.

"Three...two..." His lips moved without motion and his words were carried without sound.

Hermione let out a gasp, but couldn't seem to look away, hands hiding all but her eyes.

"One."

Draco jerked backwards as Hasan leapt lithely away.

"What the HELL!" Draco screeched, rubbing at his delicately bruised shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Hooch cried, affronted, entering purposely back onto the field. "Such language! Ten points from Slytherin and a detention to you!"

Draco's mouth hung open in outrage, before snapping shut as he gazed warily at Hasan.

The boy's face was back to blank. Jade eyes dead as ever. No remorse, no joy, not anything.

Was his father's approval really worth this much? Could he even get close to such a monster? To such a machine? To such a doll? All to create an even more superficial friendship than what was already established?

No, that would simply be a waste of time. It was not for his father that he was doing this, but for himself. And so help him if he wasn't going to make Hasan Castell his friend.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 6: Dumbledore's Predicament

"Hermione, I'm telling you! That dog was guarding a door!" Ron insisted. He had just arrived at the Gryffindor table, and was already begging for Hermione's curiosity to outweigh her morals.

"That's no excuse for a detention, Ronald! Professor Dumbledore said not to go anywhere near the third floor corridor, let alone go into the locked room! You're lucky Filch only caught you as you were heading out!" Hermione whispered harshly with a cold glare. She knew that Ron had been fooling around the forbidden corridor the other day, probably so he could appear cool in front of all his friends (cough, Neville, cough). So it was quite natural when he landed himself a detention...with Draco (Ron's nemesis), out into the forbidden forest. Well, see if she was going to be a sympathetic pair of ears! The prat deserved it.

"Oh come on, Hermione," Ron whined, "what could a three-headed dog have been guarding?"

"I don't know! Stop thinking about it!" Hermione snapped angrily, slamming down her fork.

"Hey guys." Neville shuffled in, seating himself across from Ron. "What are you talking about?"

Neville was still extremely awkward, but had managed to warm up to the two bickering Gryffindors. Sometimes he fancied he was the only bridge between the two, or that he was just a buffer to stop them from eating each other's heads off.

"Ron got a detention with Draco." Hermione hissed.

"Oh. That seems scary." Neville said. "What for?"

"Snooping around where he didn't belong-" "Finding a dog guarding a trapdoor-" The two said at the same time.

"That's cool..." said Neville carefully, not having heard anything, "So what's it guarding?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, "Honestly, Neville! He wasn't supposed to be there in the first place!"

Neville shuffled his feet beneath the table before sipping his pumpkin juice.

"Aw, don't be too hard on him, Hermione." Ron whined. Hermione silenced him with a glare, and made to get up. It was only the last week of September, honestly! How had he managed to get a detention this early on? Boys and their recklessness...

She wasn't even sure how Neville and he had become friends unless they had bonded when they were both stuck in the Hospital Wing, bored as Hell. So really, they were only together because of their foolishness during their first broom lessen! How sad. With a frustrated huff, she strode to the library, ready to take her mind off Ron with a bit of studying.

.oOo.

(Near Midnight.)

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had a bit of a problem on his hands. First and foremost: Harry Potter. It wasn't that he was only a manipulative old codger, but he was a sad old man that felt he had lost his prized possession. But that didn't necessarily mean Albus did not care for the boy. No, in fact, ever since...well, ever since Ariana, Albus had been desperate for ways to atone. He had never had children, yet he felt as if he had lost one.

But he could hardly go face the Wizarding World and say "I've lost your savior. Forgive me, I believed love was stronger than this." No. Severus' plan was in use at the current time: pretend the boy was off training in the mountains...but search parties had already gone and failed, and people were getting worried. The thing about people was that they needed to know everything was going to be alright.

You see, Albus did have another solution. He alone knew the full prophecy and it could have referred to two boys. Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Scrying didn't help. The tracking charm was absolutely dead...so what else could he do? Albus had been paying very close attention indeed to Mr. Longbottom. So far, the boy had managed to receive a broken wrist from failing to heed basic instructions. He was abysmal in potions. Was compared to a squib in Transfiguration.

But the boy had a knack for Herbology! Thank Merlin! There were such things are poisonous plants! Neville Longbottom could save the world after all! (But if Albus was honest with himself, he doubted that Tom Riddle would disappear after taking a whiff of some fatal flower.) Yes, Dumbledore would have to raise him, shape him up, and train the boy to be his- he meant- the world's savior. It also helped that the Weasley boy had shown a liking for him, for the Weasley's were some of his top supporters! The plan seemed perfect: Weasley's, Prophecy, desperate for attention...and Gryffindor.

Could he imagine a Slytherin being the Boy-Who-Lived?

Albus popped a lemon drop in his mouth and chuckled. In a few hours he would call the others up and tell them of his ingenious plan...

"Albus, you can't possibly do a bait and switch!" Poppy cried. "You'll get the poor boy's hopes up!"

"Poppy, I see no other alternative!"

"Perhaps actually looking for the Potter boy would be below us?" Snape leered icily.

"I agree with Severus!" Minerva called, much to Snape's irritation. "He's still out there! I'm not about to fail that boy a second time!"

Currently, the same crew of Severus, Minerva, Poppy, and Pomona were huddled in the headmaster's office, a mere quarter of an hour before their first classes of the year. Dumbledore didn't beat around the bush as much as he simply set it on fire.

"Minerva, I am truly sorry I didn't listen to you, before, but right now, the Wizarding World needs a face of the Light!" he insisted.

"You-Know-Who is dead!" Poppy yelled.

"If only." Snape muttered to himself.

"Well, the boy does show a great affinity for Herbology." Pomona ventured.

"Are we talking about the same Longbottom?" Snape thundered. "I don't believe he has an affinity for anything but getting himself and others injured!"

"I agree, the boy means well, but he can't keep up with the rest of the class. I've had to tutor him three times already and he's still behind." Minerva sighed. "I wish the solution were as easy as this, but the boy's comparable to a squib. His grandmother practically begged me to show her the Hogwarts book to prove he had some magic in him! Imagine, if we let the world believe one thing, Augusta Longbottom will be higher than the moon. It's simply not right, Albus. It's a farce and you're playing with his life!"

"It's also a ploy for time." Severus said. "Which would actually matter if we looked for the damn boy."

"Alright, Severus, you've made your point. We'll resume searching sometime this summer." Albus said wearily.

"You don't actually the think the boy can be found, do you?" Poppy asked. "The chances of a boy, abandoned at that age still being alive are extremely slim!"

"He's managed to survive the killing curse." Albus pointed out.

"Yes, because of love and blood protection!" Snape sneered, "Which, Minerva has already pointed out, is not functioning! We can't wait until the summer, Albus!"

"Well, what would you have me do? We need Mr. Longbottom to believe he is the chosen one so that everyone else does too. We can't have our people searching on the side because that would upset the whole-"

"Illusion!" Minerva screeched. "Merlin, Albus! Just think about the boy for once! Don't let him believe that he's the Boy-Who-Lived. Tell him he needs to play a part! Don't make him believe!"

"I can hardly control what he believes." Dumbledore said defiantly. "But I'll try my best to make sure it doesn't go to his head too fast."

"Albus!"

"Fine! I'll tell him exactly what his part is! Satisfied?"

Minerva nodded stiffly.

.oOo.

Neville Longbottom was never much of anything. He was shy, awkward, barely magical, and injured himself fairly often. He was behind in most if not all of his classes, which was saying something as it was only October, and he had managed, somehow, to make enemies of at least ten people in his year alone.

Even his toad ran away from him.

So it was with great trepidation that Neville walked to the headmaster's office now.

"Cockroach clusters." he said shakily and the gargoyle slid away from the staircase. It took nearly as much strength to climb the fifty stairs as it did to raise his arm and knock.

"Enter!"

The door opened silently, revealing a trembling Neville in its wake. Albus was situated in a high-backed chair behind his rather large desk, and he indicated for him to sit with a gracious wave of his hand.

"H-hello Pr-fessor Dumbledore."

"Good morning, Neville."

Neville? When had the headmaster, or any teacher for that matter, start calling him 'Neville'?

"Er..."

"Come, sit, sit down! Lemon drop?" Albus asked, proffering a little blue bowl.

"Um, no thanks."

Neville fidgeted in his chair, worried to the point of sickness. Why was he here? Had he done something wrong? Had one of the kids complained about him? Did someone frame him?

"All well." Albus gave himself a candy and folded his hands on the desk. "Neville, I'm truly sorry I haven't gotten to speak with you before." Albus said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "But we've been so busy looking for the Boy-Who-Lived..." he paused here and gazed at Neville pointedly.

"Oh, er, yeah, I've read the Daily Prophet and all." Neville mumbled, completely confused. Where was the headmaster going with this? Was it small talk? Did the headmaster meet with all of his students? Even so, Neville felt dejected: People were out searching for the Boy-Who-Lived, millions caring for this one boy, while he, Neville, was largely ignored, and despised for being clumsy, inadequate, forgetful, accident prone..."Er, sir, why am I here?" he ventured when all Albus did was smile fondly through his half-moon spectacles. He wasn't that close with the headmaster, let alone with anyone, and it was getting all a bit too awkward for him.

"I'm glad you asked Neville, my boy. The Daily Prophet is a lie."

"What-?"

"The Boy-Who-Lived is gone for good. He's not out training in the mountains or wherever they say he's training now. He's been missing since July, when we first sent his Hogwarts letter."

"But, um, why are you telling me this...sir?"

"Call me 'Albus'," Albus said pleasantly. Gaining trust started with names, and he was going to need a lot of trust to pull this off. Neville looked at him oddly, torn between disbelief and confusion. He wanted recognition so badly, but this was all too suspicious.

"Er-"

"Yes, as I was saying, Harry Potter is gone. There is little hope of ever finding him and that's assuming he isn't already dead."- Neville gulped-"But do you know why he was targeted as a baby? Why he was dubbed the World's savior?"

Neville shook his head.

"Because of a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" Neville echoed.

"Yes. It foretold of a boy born as the seventh month dies..." He waited as he watched the gears turn in the boy's face. "You, my boy, were the second child the prophecy referred to."

"B-but I can't save a thing! Even my toad ran away from me! People tease me! I-I don't have much magic!"

"No, Neville, my boy." Albus face darkened as grief flooded through his voice. "That is where you come in. You were not 'marked as his equal' as the prophecy goes, but you will be able to represent the Light. Step up and fill in, giving hope as the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"B-but I'm not." Neville stammered.

"No...no, you're not. But the world needs a savior, Neville. They need a face."

So he just wants to use me. He doesn't care. He's just using you. They're all just using you. It's all a big practical joke, comparing you to a deity and hailed as a dead man when you're just really plain old Neville Longbottom...

"So I'm just a replacement?" Neville whispered hoarsely.

Albus frowned, the boy wasn't supposed to act like this! He was supposed to be happy! Proud even at the chance to be the Boy-Who-Lived.

"No, Neville, my boy. You will be named the Boy-Who-Lived. The prophecy has no bearings anymore with Harry Potter gone. People are going to look to you for advice! Why your grandmother was over the moon when we told her!"

Neville blanched.

"You told my grandmother!"

"Yes, and she was honored to be able to say her own grandson is the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"But I'm not!" Neville protested weakly.

"We'll give you some time to adjust yourself to it, but just think: wouldn't your parents be so proud if their son was the one to destroy Voldemort once and for all?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" Neville said blankly, and asked to be excused.

.oOo.

Halloween was finally upon them, and the Great Hall had been adorned with orange and black streamers, and many animated bats that flew past on unsuspecting students.

Hasan couldn't believe it- it seemed like just yesterday he was heading off to Hogwarts and now, they were two months into the semester! Hasan, himself, was doing fairly well in all his classes. Altair's vigorous preparation had a hand in it, as did Professor McGonagall's offer to teach him privately after class. He wasn't entirely sure why the professor had warmed up to him, but he knew he liked her, and so took her up on it. Most of the spells Hasan already knew, but then the Transfiguration's teacher mentioned something in passing that caught Hasan's interest: Animagi.

When he asked about it, she had told him it was near impossible to become an Animagis at his age- that it required great skill, power, and a whole lot of paperwork. But Hasan still remembered that first class, when she had changed from a tabby cat to witch in a fluid movement, eliciting oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Now that he knew the name of it, however, he simply mentioned it to Hermione whom had researched it herself out of pure curiosity. She intended to give him a briefing on it tomorrow.

Speaking of Gryffindors, Neville Longbottom's reputation preceded him. Brainless, forgetful, clumsy, awkward, squib...toad lover. He seemed nervous even around his fellow Gryffindors, though he had gotten considerably closer to Ron after their joint recovery in the Hospital Wing. Still, he was clearly marked as an oddball and kids teased him whenever they could. Draco didn't for fear of offending Hasan (again), but Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and even some members of his own house, (embarrassed at his ability to nearly empty the Gryffindor hourglass every time he stepped into the Potion's Classroom), were more than enough, sending him notes or whispering his name down the table or in the classroom, just to annoy him. It was incredible really, how most of the teachers seemed oblivious to this. Even McGonagall with her kindness towards Hasan, a Slytherin, didn't have an inkling of how bad it was. (For clearly they knew something was going on.)

In fact, Hasan was nearly sure he had seen Neville running past, tears flying off his face, to the girl's bathroom...

Hasan only remembered it because he had had a conversation with himself before. It went something like:

Why the girl's bathroom?

Because it's abandoned.

Why is it abandoned?

...Moaning Myrtle.

All the girls quickly learned that if they needed to go, they'd better find the stairs quick! So Hasan just shrugged and moved on with his life, never knowing that the next few seconds would make this fact very important indeed.

.oOo.

The doors sprung open as a deranged Quirrell fell through it. His amethyst turban was on slightly messier than usual, and on his face was a palpable sheen of sweat. At the staff table, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape had already jumped to their feet.

"TROLL! TROLL IN THE HALL! TROLL ON THE LOOSE!"

"Troll?"

"What?"

"Fuck!"

The students began to chat loudly as the three teachers, plus Poppy, bustled over to the DADA professor. They helped him up before Poppy led him away.

"A troll!" Draco exclaimed. "Those things are massive! How could one of them get in here?"

"It was let in." Hasan said simply, ignoring the gasps around him. Trolls were notorious for being violent and stupid- an altogether troublesome combination. Whoever had willingly let a troll loose in the school was most definitely trying to cause some real destruction...or distraction.

"Maybe it was a prank?" Millie asked hopefully, but her thick brows worried dreadfully, belying her fear.

"As long as we're all here in the Hall," Tracey consoled her, "we'll be safe. See, Professor Snape is taking care of it." Indeed, the three teachers had just left the Hall in search of the beast. Yet Hasan had a decidedly bad feeling about this. What if someone who didn't know about the troll was still outside the hall? Wait, Neville! Hasan immediately sought out the awkward Gryffindor, but where he should have been sitting, a panicking Hermione was in his place. Suddenly, her brown eyes snapped to his, and Hasan gave a terse nod. He watched as the lioness murmured some excuse to Ron, before walking discreetly over to him. She visited so often that no one thought twice about it.

"Neville!" Hermione whispered desperately as soon as she was next to Hasan. "He was crying earlier! Oh! He's still out there!"

Most of the Slytherins ignored her, since she was, oddly enough, a regular at the table, but Draco Malfoy was not among them.

"You think the troll-?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded vigorously. "Oh this is bad, even if it is Longbottom."

Hasan nodded. "I know where he is. We need to be quick though."

"You're going?" Draco repeated dubiously. "This is a TROLL."

"Yes, so are you coming or not?" Hasan asked curiously as he extracted himself from the bench. It seemed he didn't even process Draco's reluctance, but really, Hasan just chose to ignore it. Hermione looked at Draco with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yes, alright." Draco agreed stiffly, and followed the two out of the room. Damn Granger and her pretty eyes.

"Wait! We're headed towards Moaning Myrtle's loo!" Hermione exclaimed as they raced down the hall to the distant sounds of thudding.

"Yes, and abandoned too. I must say Neville does know how to use to his resources." Draco drawled, hoping his inadvertent compliment would make Hasan feel more comfortable. But all he said was.-

"About time you figured that out." with that damning indifference! Uh! It infuriated Draco to no end- but wait...did he want Hasan's praise? Well wasn't that just the silliest thing you've ever heard! A Malfoy needing approval, from a half-blood no less! Ha!

But his laugh sounded hollow in his own mind.

As they reached the bathroom, the strong stench of Troll filled their noses.

"That's vile!" Hermione cried, whipping out her wand. She performed a quick bubblehead charm on the three of them (something she read about in her Animagi exploration as an alternative to breathing underwater,) much to Hasan and Draco's appreciation.

"Merlin, Hermione, what would we do without you?" Hasan joked.

Intrigued by the new voice, the Troll clambered around to face them, giving the trio a perfect view of its being. It was huge, with yellow nails, crooked teeth, two beady eyes, and a menacing looking club.

"Delightful." Draco sneered.

"Yeah, a real beauty." Hasan muttered, hand clenching around his wand.

"H-hermione? I-is that you?" Neville's trembling voice came from behind a locked stall that's door was badly dented.

"Yes, Hermione's here with Draco and I," Hasan told him. "Don't worry, this'll be over in a moment." The Troll raised its club in challenge, the three began the fight with relish.

"Stupefy!" Hermione yelled.

"Rictumsempra!" Hasan cried. The stunner hit the Troll squarely in the face, but it recovered a second later only to be hit with Hasan's tickling curse. The poor oaf twitched as its nerves were attacked cruelly, banging into more stalls, smashing a mirror, and putting holes in the ground.

"Locomotor Mortis!" Draco screamed, and the trolls legs instantly snapped shut as the tickling curse wore off.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he quickly amended when the troll began to beat the ground with his fists, sending panels of tile everywhere.

Hermione looked between the two, impressed but also worried. They had basically destroyed the bathroom (that no one used anyway)!

Hasan was also surprised at Malfoy's quick thinking, but not of the spell since he knew that the boy had a private tutor. The tickling curse probably did more harm than good, in hindsight, but Hasan was glad that someone was there to watch his back when he made mistakes. He grinned over at Draco, who had regained his smug composure, just when the troll lifted its heavy self from the floor. It didn't appear extremely damaged, just tired and absolutely furious. It released a deafening roar, sending Neville into a fit of whimpers, and unfortunately, attracting the troll's attention. Stupid yes, but strong enough to pull the stall door off its hinges to reveal a badly shaking Neville Longbottom. Tear tracks wear clear on his red face, his eyes darting to meet Hasan's, and then something changed. He stood up firmly, grabbed his wand, and opened his mouth as the troll's club descended.

"PROTEGO!" four voices shouted in unison as the massive beast was blasted off its disgusting feet, and into the far wall with a sickening crack. There was a slowly trickling wound from its head, the club fell between its numb fingers.

The kids stared at each other, then at the troll, and then at the desecrated bathroom in horror. Even Myrtle poked her head out of the toilet, just to release a low moan and dive back in. Neville gingerly exited the stall, wiping the tears from his face as he did so, and offered a tentative smile to his saviors.

And then they heard a clap from the doorway.

.oOo.

"That was quite a feat." Dumbledore applauded with a twinkle in his light blue eyes. "Not many first years could have taken on a mountain troll and won!"

Yet his colleagues didn't seem to share this view. Severus looked downright furious as did Minerva as they glared daggers at the destructed bathroom.

"Oh my goodness!" Minerva breathed. Her eyes travelled across the room, from the troll, to the destruction, and then to the children in awe. "What are you four not doing at the Halloween feast?"

Hasan felt Hermione stiffen beside him and knew that Neville was most likely making himself as inconspicuous as possible. Draco however wasn't cowed and stood defiantly with Hasan, arms crossed in front of his chest, as if to say, 'Well what the bloody hell was the troll doing in Hogwarts?'

"Hello Professor McGonagall." Hasan said politely, stowing his wand nonchalantly in his robe pocket. "Isn't the smell awful?"

"Simply dreadful." Draco muttered.

"Well?" Minerva demanded, casting an air freshening charm, much to everyone's relief.

"I'd like to know as well, why two of my snakes ended up in the girl's bathroom." Snape hissed.

Hasan thought rapidly. Was it wrong of them to go after Neville? Technically, there was no wrong. Could it be that the teachers were simply protective of their charges? He studied their faces: Minerva's was chalky white, Severus' was angry, and Albus Dumbledore...he had that glint in his eye that Hasan didn't quite like. What did Dumbledore know that Hasan didn't?

"Well you see, sir." Draco said, "We knew there was a troll on the loose and Hasan noticed that Longbottom wasn't in his seat."

"And you deduced that Neville was in need of a little aid? Bravo!" Dumbledore cried, clapping his hands again. He was a little disappointed not to see Ron Weasley among them, for he desperately wished for Neville to associate with the family, but he supposed that the muggleborn, Granger- Hermione (he thought her name was)- would have to do. He wondered how the miniature Lucius was involved, but figured that the other Slytherin came because of Hermione. Merlin knew how often the bushy-haired witch was seen talking to the boy!

"Albus, this is hardly time to be congratulating-" Snape started.

"Well why not? The Boy-Who-Lived has finally shown his true colors and has returned to save the school from a grave danger!"

Hasan bit his lip, the Boy-Who-Lived? Albus couldn't possibly- but then it made sense, the twinkle in his eyes, the glee... he heard Neville stifle a gasp as the headmaster's gaze rested on him, all the way in the back corner.

"No need to be modest, Neville!" Albus cried. "It's okay to admit you went looking for a troll and had friends to support you."

Oh, dear. The headmaster really was desperate wasn't he? Hasan thought.

Hasan turned to watch Neville fully now, and it was clear that Neville wanted nothing more than to fall through the floor and quickly disintegrate. His eyes darted from Hermione, to Draco, to Hasan's, before quickly landing on the floor by his feet. Neville truly wished he could call these people his friends, but there was an unmistakable influence on his thoughts. The headmaster was guiding towards this way of thinking, and he knew he couldn't let it get ahold of him. These people, these wonderful people, they were not friends! They were just good people who went to help a pathetic boy...

"Albus!" Minerva snapped, glaring candidly at the headmaster. This succeeded in capturing Hasan's interest.

"It is alright, Minerva." Albus said, "These children, these friends of Neville's deserve to know." The first part seemed to appease the Transfigurations' teacher, and surprisingly the Potions Master. The second part, made Minerva want to slap his face off. "Yes, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Castell, this boy, this wonderful friend, is the Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione's eyes became saucers as Draco gaped openly in a decidedly unMalfoylike fashion.

"Neville?" Hermione asked hopefully, "Really? You're Harry Potter?"

Albus cleared his throat. "Erm, no, but he is the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter is actually just a regular homeschooled wizard. The press made a mistake."

Severus coughed loudly at this and Hermione looked as if she wanted to question the headmaster, but then thought better of it. Dumbledore was such a powerful wizard, he must know, right? He must be able to sense the sheer power radiating off of Neville Longbottom? Hermione fought the urge not to frown and demand to know what the hell was the truth. No offense to Neville or anything but,... Neville was currently backing up into the corner, arms wrapped protectively around himself. His eyes darted to Hasan for he seemed to be the only one not reacting, in a plea of 'help me please!'

"Then how come they wrote all those books on him?" Draco demanded, watching with suspicion as Severus' lips quirked up.

"Ah, yes. That was for Mr. Longbottom's protection." Albus lied easily. "Now I think for this miraculous accomplishment, 20 points each for Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Castell, and Miss Granger, and 30 points for Mr. Longbottom for a great service to our school."

"Hey that's-!" Draco protested. The other two teachers looked about ready to shout the same thing too, but Albus silenced them with a shake of his head.

"Neville's heroics must be recognized! He was the first one here, was he not?"

Damn him.

"Of course he was, sir." Hasan piped up to the incredulity of the rest of the room. His dull green eyes hit the headmaster head on, and he fancied he could see the man pause for just one second. "He was in here because-"

"I knew I could defeat the troll!" Neville shouted harshly. He hated himself for saying it, for playing into Dumbledore's machinations, but he couldn't bear for the teachers, least of all Snape, to know the real reason he was in there.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Albus said with a slight chuckle. "Now how about you go back to the feast? I hear the apple pie is simply delicious..."

The four children scampered from the room, though Draco's was more of a haughty strut, leaving the teachers to work out their own pressing matters.

"3o points for Longbottom! Really?" Snape sneered. "If you noticed, he was the one cowering in the corner!"

"Yes, I agree that 30 is a bit excessive. It was teamwork, Albus. Do you think special treatment is really the best way to handle the boy? He's much more likely to avoid you if you continue down this path."

"But don't you see? We introduce him little by little to the life he'll lead. Today's a troll, the next it's Voldemort!"

Snape gasped, "Albus, you didn't-!"

"No, no," Albus shook his head sadly. But I wish I did. Perhaps in the Great Hall where everyone could have watched...

.oOo.

"Hasan?" Draco asked when he realized the long, brown-haired boy was no longer with him.

"Just be a minute." Hasan called, indicating for Draco and Hermione to go on. Draco looked like he was about to protest, but then Hermione nudged him in the arm and he nodded tersely.

Hasan watched as Hermione tugged him away (though he quickly snatched his sleeve back) before turning back and catching Neville as he was walking towards Gryffindor Tower alone.

"Hey, Neville! Wait." Hasan shouted, striding over to the boy with long steps.

"Oh, not you too." Neville mumbled.

"What?"

"'Neville,' the headmaster just started calling me by my first name today. It's so uncomfortable. I wish he'd stop." Neville said in a whisper. "It's like he wants others to believe we're friends...wants me to believe we're friends. You probably don't understand..." Neville sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"He probably does." Hasan admitted to Neville's shock. "He wants something from you and needs your trust to make it happen. As for your name, would you rather I call you Longbottom?"

"Er, no." Neville said. "Sorry about that. No you can keep using Neville."

"Thank you." Hasan said quietly. The two sat down right there on the floor, side by side with their kneecaps touching. "I understand the power of names, too. Names are our identity. To some extent they make us who we are."

"Then it's just lucky I've got stuck with Longbottom, eh?" Neville laughed bitterly.

"You can't choose your last name." Hasan admonished lightly. "That belongs to your parents."

The word 'parents' seemed to strike a nerve, for Neville curled his arms around even tighter.

"Oh."

"Hey, Neville?" Hasan asked softly. "If you could choose any name in the world, what would it be?"

"I-er. I'm not sure. It's not like I can legally change my name without a guardian's consent, and Gran is sure as Merlin not giving hers."

"I was just curious." Hasan sighed. So far he had learned four things about Neville Longbottom and his related predicament. 1) Albus was playing a dangerous game. No one wants to be used, or hoodwinked, and this was exactly what he was doing. 2) Neville didn't like it one bit. Not the title or the headmaster. 3) Neville was tight-lipped about his parents, both of them. 4) He lived with a rather stubborn, strict, or opinionated grandmother. (Hasan wasn't sure which it was, but Neville's tone seemed to imply she was a strong woman.)

"That's alright. Curiosity is fine." Neville said. "Do you think You-Know-Who is really gone?" Neville asked suddenly.

Hasan knew what Altair thought, but he had yet to make his own opinion.

"Why?" Hasan countered, avoiding the question.

"Because I'm in deep trouble if he's not. Gran seems to think he's still here though, been trying to train me since I was little...but you know me. I can hardly turn a matchstick into a needle." Neville laughed bitterly at himself before turning watery eyes to Hasan. "Bet you don't think I can defeat him either."

Hasan shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I haven't met the guy. But I believe, the Boy-Who-Lived or not, that you have all the power you'll need. Maybe not in combat, maybe in Herbology. Who knows."

"Wait...you know?" Neville asked, eyes seeming to take up his entire face. Hasan knew he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived?

"I don't know anything." Hasan said with a slight smile. "But you may have to brush up on your acting skills to get Dumbledore from leading you along."

"I'll keep that in mind." Neville grinned as Hasan got up and offered him a hand. "And...thanks, you know. For listening."

"No need to thank me." Hasan said with a mock bow.

But only because I can't shut my ears off.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 7: A Chat with Severus Snape

"Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"Yes!" Draco and Ron cried in exasperation, then looked oddly at one another as if disbelieving they could ever agree. And by oddly, Draco was horrified, and Ron looked about to vomit.

"I'm just making sure!" Hermione defended herself. "Because I saw something of interest today too."

Hasan, Draco, Neville, Hermione, and Ron were seated around a table in the History section of the library. It was brilliant, for there were thousands of books, meaning many shelves, and no one liked History (because of Professor Binns) which meant many empty rows of shelves. Draco tolerated Hermione enough because she was so attached to Hasan, but Ron and Neville he could do without. Unfortunately, Hermione had made a little Gryffindor trio and that meant the Boy-Who-Lived and the Weasel had to come too.

What he did to get on Hasan's good side.

"I don't think you can top that, Hermione." Neville piped up. "That's pretty dark."

"Well, I'll just tell you then. Today, I saw Professor Quirrell limping away from the third floor corridor."

"Really?" Hasan asked. Quirrell seemed too weak to put himself into any danger. Either he was equally as stupid, or the alternative, hiding his potential.

"Must have been bitten by that dog Ron found." Neville muttered.

"What dog?!" Draco demanded, turning to glare at Neville. "You saw a dog in the third floor corridor?"

"Hence the detention with you." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Boys! Please, let's stay on topic." Hermione hissed. "So Ron, Draco, you guys saw a- a man, a hooded figure, in the forbidden forest drinking blood from a dead unicorn?"

They each shuddered and nodded. The tale was so gruesome that they rushed into the library before they would spill anything. It was miraculous really, how Ron and Draco could be equally concerned about something, so of course, Hasan took it very seriously.

"Wait...Unicorn blood, that's a highly magical substance that can sustain life even on the brink of death." Hasan whispered, repeating what Altair had taught him. "The consequences are...horrific, hellish. Whoever it was must be extremely desperate."

"Maybe they have a backup plan and are just using the blood to sustain them for a while." Hermione suggested. "But so near the school...you don't think..."

"Someone needs something from inside the school." Neville finished. "And that leads to-"

"The third floor corridor." Ron said. "Whoever that thing was that we saw needs something below that trapdoor."

The revelations were so farfetched, yet so perfectly correlated that they all just had to think silently for a minute. So far, a creepy figure was seen on Draco and Ron's detention drinking unicorn blood, Quirrell had been seen limping from the forbidden corridor, and Ron had stumbled upon a trapdoor that was guarded by a dog. Somehow these were all connected. Somehow...

"So basically, Quirrell is on the brink of death and needs something through that trapdoor to save his life." Hasan murmured, summing it all up.

"Wow, that's...brilliant." Hermione breathed. "It makes me think of that troll. You don't think Quirrell let it in, do you?"

"It certainly makes sense." Draco nodded. "He was the first one to know about it, and why wasn't he at the feast like all the other teachers? He could have easily let it in."

"But this is stuttering Quirrell, we're talking about!" Ron protested stubbornly. "He can't do anything!"

"Well, appearances can be deceiving." Neville told him lightly, "Maybe he's only pretending so that he raises less suspicion?"

There was a general agreement to this as Quirrell seemed abnormally pathetic.

"What we need to find out now is what's through that door that Quirrell needs so badly." Hermione said briskly. "I suggest we split up and start looking for substances that can extend one's life force."

"If only it were as simple as the Philosopher's Stone." Hasan laughed softly "...wait, what?"

"Hasan! You're a genius!" Hermione beamed.

"But isn't the stone supposed to be with the Flamel family?" Draco queried. "I'm hard pressed to believe they'd just give it over to Hogwarts."

"Yeah," Neville frowned, "But I'm sure if Dumbledore asked. He's got a lot of power, you know...They say Hogwarts is the safest place to hide things, except Gringott's that is, and well, Gran and A-albus don't seem to believe that Yo- V-v-volde-m-mort is gone."

Hasan frowned sympathetically, knowing how much pressure Neville was under from Dumbledore to say things a certain way.

"So you think Dumbledore set the stone as bait? That's cruel." Draco drawled. "But Dumbles was never known to think outside the Greater Good."

"Hey! Dumbledore is the best wizard ever!" Ron protested with a look of earnest.

Hermione sighed, "Quiet, Ronald, you can fight with Draco later. So let's just suppose, hypothetically that the stone is at Hogwarts. What are we supposed to do about it?"

"Stop Quirrell from getting it." Neville stated. "What if he's really a supporter of V-v- oh forget it, You-Know-Who? I certainly don't want to have him back!"

"Neville's right." Hasan spoke up, "No matter what the truth is, someone's after that stone and I think it's best if they should fail."

"Alright," Hermione said, a glint of determination in her eyes. She had become quite the little leader when it came to things on research, "look for books on three-headed dogs, also under Cerberus..."

.oOo.

While Neville's ring of friends didn't treat him any differently, mainly because Ron was already Neville's friend, and Hermione, Draco, and Hasan were suspicious from Dumbledore's actions from the troll incident and the month following, most of the school did a complete 180.

Some of the Slytherins backed off to better analyze the situation, while many of the Gryffindors strove to find favor in the so dubbed "Boy-Who-Lived." Neville's grades were even affected since kids offered to tutor him, teachers were more patient (save Snape), and people weren't laughing or doing things that made him uncomfortable during class and tests. All in all, one would think that his new celebrity status had completely improved his life. Even his Gran had decided to buy him a cat to replace the runaway toad. It was a beautiful tortoiseshell with bright amber eyes. He named her Victory. Hermione simply adored the cat and the name, and played with her often in the Gryffindor common room.

Neville wasn't the only one enjoying his familiar. Draco had recently taken to holing up in his room, doing Merlin knows what, with his owl, Zephyrus, or just plain Zeph. During this time, Hasan was off his 'befriending Draco' guard and could relax a bit around his housemates.

Tracey was a pleasure to be with really. Out of all the Slytherin girls, she was by far the gentlest. She often talked with Daphne Greengrass, a girl with black hair and black eyes, and Theo if he wasn't too occupied with Blaise Zabini. The odd thing about the girls was that they were all so very different. Not that Hasan was one to categorize or stereotype, but it was amazing how Tracey could be arguing with Pansy over blood purity one minute, and then unite to yell at some irritating Hufflepuff the next. Hasan found that this was a rather shrewd strategy employed to appear stronger than reality, and found the parallel between Harry and Hasan. It was all very fitting, and he couldn't even begin to imagine himself in with the Gryffindors!

Even though he saw potential in Hermione, Neville was just a pawn in Dumbledore's game. Though Neville didn't seem to want the attention, there was no doubt he was benefiting from it, and there might come a time in the future when Dumbledore asks a favor, and Neville would be in no position to refuse...So really, Neville was an associate (tool was too crude a word), which left Ron. He was relentless in defending moron-Gandalf at every turn, yet was blind to the obvious facts: Dumbledore knew someone dangerous was after the stone, and he had placed it in the building. As what? Bait? Putting thousands of lives in danger for what? A spectacle? Training?

Speaking of Dark Lords and Light Lords, Hasan had recently researched why he was sent to live with the Dursley's after the Dark Lord's supposed demise. Apparently there were things called blood-wards, but they only worked if Hasan considered the Dursely's family. Obviously he did not, making the wards null and void. What total idiocy! Honestly, if Dumbledore ever learned the truth, then Hasan was going to play the game. He wouldn't be helpless like Neville to comply, he'd be a Slytherin and a hidden king. But secrets were lonely.

Some nights he missed Tina, but knew she was safe enough with Altair. Other nights he missed Altair and knew he was safe enough with Tina. It was times like these that he would go up to the Owlery and bring Raven down to show Tracey and Daphne. Raven was always by herself it seemed. No one else wanted to be near her, and oddly, she seemed a bit miffed by the other owls...Hasan couldn't have been prouder.

.oOo.

"Aww! She's so cute!" Tracey gushed, holding Raven in the palms of her hands.

"I know! Hopefully you don't intend to send any heavy things with her." Daphne said. "Have you ever used her?"

Hasan blinked in confusion. Letters? Who did he have to send letters to? Altair wasn't going to receive any, and he wasn't about to start sending messages to Hermione or Neville from across the Great Hall. So then, why had Altair sent him the owl?

"Um."

"Don't you have any family?" Daphne enquired. "I've noticed you don't get much mail, sorry."

"No need to apologize." Hasan smiled charmingly. "I just like her is all. My father is working abroad right now, so I'm afraid this little one would get lost."

"What does your father do, Hasan?" Tracey queried. "If you don't mind me asking." She turned her sky blue eyes on him, eyes that had probably had older boys spilling their guts, but not Hasan.

"He travels and studies fighting styles and magical history."

"Oh, that's nice." Tracey said, though she seemed disappointed that he didn't have anything more interesting to say. She stroked Raven's feathers and giggled with Daphne. "She's just so cute!"

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" Blaise asked curiously. He was dressed in his midnight blue silk pajamas, which contrasted nicely to his darker skin. He had become fonder of Hasan in the past two months, slowly adapting to the concept of half-blood. Blaise wasn't half bad once you got to know him, but his mother had been obsessed with blood purity and had hammered it into her son's brain.

His mother had had five husbands so far, all mysteriously dead, and was currently in her sixth relationship. She only married the best, and she categorized it with blood purity. Which also mysteriously correlated with the amount of gold they had. However, Blaise had an open enough mind, especially since Draco started hanging around that mudblood Granger, and that blood-traitor, Weasley.

"Look! It's Hasan's owl, Raven!" Daphne squealed, kissing the bird on the head, then smoothing down its soft head feathers.

"That's...one small bird." Blaise stated after a minute. "I don't think I've seen that breed before. Ever, not even in the Owlery."

"That's odd," Hasan said absently, "I never use her so she should always be there."

"Yeah, his father's always travelling." Tracey interjected. "It would be too much work to make the poor owl fly across Europe!"

"Yeah, I guess so." Blaise said. "Speaking of owls, Draco's been in his room for forever! It's like he's sending someone a book!"

"Really? That's what you think he's doing in there?" Theo said as he came over. "I don't understand it. He doesn't get any personal letters over breakfast, but somehow ends up going in his room with one and sending a reply before we notice."

"Ooh, sounds like a mystery." Tracey smirked.

"No not really. I think he's just sending it to his dad." Theo said. "I saw the Malfoy family crest on one as he was stowing it in his robes."

"So you do so know what he's doing, Theo!" Daphne accused playfully. "He's such a daddy's boy. My father will hear about this!" she mimicked through a fit of giggles.

Well, that was fairly obvious, Hasan thought. He's still reporting back to his father... Yet the thought was unsettling for he had actually come to appreciate Draco as part of his ring of friends. It just reminded Hasan that he should always be on his guard.

"Pardonez-moi," Hasan murmured, knowing that his French would make the girls melt, and thus leave him free to move as they gossiped.

He had to think things over. Just because Draco was playing the perfect friend, didn't mean he wasn't spying. Sure it was only December, but Hasan had hoped (though he denied it) to have changed Draco! Well, apparently a bit over two months wouldn't undo eleven years of Malfoy thinking.

He didn't know why the idea upset him. It just did. He knew that his emotions were just reactions caused by another's behavior, and that realistically, Draco was ever much the brat he had been in Diagon Alley. So then, why was he feeling things? Why was he having these emotions?

He frowned as he wondered how it was that he knew one thing and thought another. His emotions didn't match up. Hasan didn't match up. For the love of Merlin, could he ever just be normal? Perhaps Mrs. Haydn was right...maybe he did have that mental condition.

He sat on his bed and sighed, remembering how just a few years ago, he was lucky to get the fullest hay-filled sack as a bed. He should be grateful, right? Not upset over some pureblood offspring. Urgh! Why did feelings have to get in the way of everything?

He looked at the little owl in his hands, wondering now with utmost suspicion why he was given an owl. The poor thing could hardly deliver a letter that was too heavy or too far away. Perhaps Altair meant for it to be something more personal? Like sending a live letter to someone in Hogwarts? Or a friend?

"Hey, Raven." Hasan smiled, stroking her soft black feathers. "I don't know why I'm talking to you. I've only ever talked to Tina, and I could actually understand her. Yeah, I'm a snake talker...but Altair doesn't really know that. I feel bad sometimes about deceiving him, but not bad enough. Sometimes I'm just sad because I'm not upset about being mean. It's all really complicated, sorry Raven."

The owl blinked at him with large black eyes.

"Yeah, you're an interesting owl. Really small too, no offense. Hey, do you think I could conjure a snake for me to talk to, not that you're not interesting...what? Yeah I suppose I'll be found out...urgh! I'm talking to a bloody owl!" With that, Hasan sent the bird outside with directions to fly back to the Owlery. Maybe Altair was more insightful than Hasan gave him credit for: he actually felt better.

.oOo.

"Hasan!" Draco commanded, rapping his knuckles on the boy's door, "Hasan!"

"What?" came the muffled reply after a minute of continual knocking.

"It's Christmas, hurry up!"

Hasan shot out of bed with an odd smile on his face. Christmas? Wait, presents? Hasan had never gotten to celebrate a proper Christmas since Altair was too paranoid to do much shopping apart from necessities, and his life before that had no room for any celebrations. Hasan figured that wasn't about to start changing now, but was also excited to see what everyone else was going to get. Hasan went to his trunk and pulled out a navy, fitted blazer, black shirt, and black pants. His long brown hair was braided neatly down his back, hanging just above his hip, since he had just trimmed it with a useful little spell he found.

"Hasan!" Draco demanded again, and Hasan walked readily out the dorm. "Has—oh, Merry Christmas, Hasan."

"Merry Christmas, Draco." Hasan smiled lightly, jade green eyes seemingly warm beneath his blank demeanor.

The two walked down to the common room together, where all the generations had gathered in seven separate little circles, presents grouped in the middle of each like a bonfire.

Draco led Hasan to where the rest of the first-year Slytherins were seated, apologizing with a wink why he had been late.

"Really? Who sleeps in during a holiday?" Tracey teased.

"Apparently I do." Hasan grinned, looking at the large pile of presents with curiosity. Theirs were easily the largest pile, but that was mostly because they had the most kids staying for the hols. Having a Malfoy in the mix did help too, however...

"Alright, let's start!" Blaise said, and the Slytherins were off! tearing shreds of silver and green wrapping off of parcels and boxes of every shape and size. The wrapping paper immediately vanished once it hit the ground, however, so that the cold marble floor was still spotless as ever.

Hasan watched as Draco received a set of golden scales from his godfather, Severus Snape, a pair of black gloves from his mother, and a snake pendant that was charmed to protect the wearer when sleeping. Draco got a bunch of other things too, among them a book on quidditch, and some hair gel... But he seemed to like the first three the most.

Daphne's gifts were mainly perfume and jewelry, plus a book on magical flowers and their natural uses. She seemed absolutely delighted and wore large smile.

Theo had gotten a bit less than Malfoy, some books on the Dark Arts, a scarf, and a bag of chocolate frogs from his parents. After opening the candy, he offered one to everybody in the group, and Hasan gratefully accepted, savoring the rich chocolate that melted sweetly on his tongue. Tracey unwrapped her gifts after Theo, for she was interested in what he got.

Tracey ended up receiving a small portable chest set, some jewelry, a light blue dress to match her eyes, and a mother-of-pearl enchanted comb.

Then they all looked to Hasan, who hadn't even started yet! He was shocked to find a small pile of presents for him.

"Well, go ahead." Draco said softly, as Hasan tentatively reached out for the first.

It was a book on Animagus transformations from Professor McGonagall. He was even touched she actually remembered his expression of faint interest over it! He set the book aside and started on the second. It was also a book, but from Neville.

'Thank you for then.' he had written on a small red card. The book was about different ways to disguise oneself, including everything from spells to potions to wards. Hm, maybe this time he'd be able to figure out how to change back? Or at least know what was happening...

The next gift was from none other than Draco Malfoy. Hasan was startled that the blonde would actually care...but then he shoved it off as being some cursed artifact his father wanted him to have. Hasan opened it with caution, but soon had his mouth gaping in awe. Inside the velvet-lined box was an elegant silver dagger with three large emeralds on the handle.

"Draco...Thank you."

There were gasps around the circle as they gazed at the dagger in admiration. Blaise's eyes looked about to pop out of their sockets.

"You're welcome. It's a sign of alliance and friendship," Draco said, "A bit old fashioned, but I wanted to get you something unique...you can change the length of it with a single thought." he added as if Hasan would appreciate that more.

"Wow, that's serious coming from the Malfoy's." Theo whistled.

"Extremely. Hasan, you're one lucky bloke." Blaise commented.

"Yeah, almost unheard of." Daphne said.

"Thank you." Hasan told him again, placing the dagger in his sleeve, where he had a multi-holster which only held his wand as of yet. He'd have to ask Altair about it later, he decided, but right now...Hasan leaned over and gave Draco a hug, making him turn a vibrant scarlet. "Sorry I didn't get you anything." he whispered into his ear.

"Awww!" Tracey and Daphne cooed.

Finally, Hasan turned to the very last gift, silver with a green satin bow, and began to open it slowly. This was the best Christmas yet...

'From Altair Castell' it said. Hasan smiled joyfully at the name, and found beneath the wrapping a case of the Lord of the Rings books, all paperback (because Hasan had a particular issue with hardbacks always closing on him), but with the covers adorned with little gemstones and the titles painted in gold.

"Merlin..."

"Whoa, Hasan, what is that?" Theo asked.

"Are they books?" Blaise wondered, "Spell books?"

"Muggle books?" Tracey tried, "Oh, yes! I've heard of them before!"

"Really?" Daphne asked, "You?"

"Yes! The author was ingenious really, even for a muggle. He imagined the entire world of Middle Earth-"

"Middle Earth?" Draco asked dubiously, "How-"

"It's a fiction book, Draco!" Tracey chastised, "Anyway, it's all about these halflings called hobbits and they go on adventures to destroy the one ring of power. You know, fighting dragons and getting treasure, and meeting kings and princesses!"

"It sounds good," Theo said tentatively. "For a muggle, I mean." he hastened to add.

"Yeah, Hasan, you'll enjoy it." Tracey said, "My father read them to me all the time."

Hasan grinned, "I've read them when I was eight."

"Merlin!" Tracey gasped, "That's...really good."

Draco was eyeing the muggle tomes apprehensively.

"Well, shall we go down to breakfast?" Draco suggested. It seemed he was uncomfortable with others knowing more than him, even on muggle literature.

"Of course, Draco," Hasan said liltingly, "I want to see what the Boy-Who-Lived has got."

At the collective wrinkling of noses, Hasan laughed softly, knowing that in reality, Neville probably thought the idea was even more distasteful.

Hasan was right.

.oOo.

"Who the bloody hell is Cho Chang?" Ron exclaimed over Neville's shoulder.

"I don't know, but I think the book looks fascinating." Hermione oohed at the Herbology text, flipping through its contents. Neville just shrugged helplessly at the large pile of gifts.

Most of the Gryffindors had gone home for the holidays, but not Neville, Ron, or Hermione: Hermione had too much reading to do in the library to go home, and Ron and Neville just wanted to be away from their crazy families. Neville was actually dreading the day he would have to go home for the summer hols. Gran was sure to smother him, and that would just be too weird since she never ever 'smothered' someone, least of all 'nearly-a-squib-Neville.'

"I can't believe all of these...gifts! They don't even know me!"

"But Neville!" Ron screamed, "You're the Boy-Who-Lived! And recently out of hiding too! How you managed to fool them into thinking you can't do magic-!"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"It's alright," Neville sighed, opening some candy assortment from Honeydukes, "I'd rather they think I could actually do magic than not. I'm only improving because everyone's been helping me so much." He sent a pointed look to Hermione, who grinned back at him.

"Neville, you just needed a bit of encouragement!...No, don't even compare me to that relative that threw you out the window!" Hermione said as Neville frowned.

Ron looked between them, wondering what he had missed. "Don't worry about it." Hermione whispered. "Oh, look at that! We missed some!"

They looked where the witch was pointing where indeed sat a little neat stack of presents. Neville groaned.

"Aw, cheer up, Nev! All I got was a Weasley sweater and a couple of chocolate frogs. Plus some quidditch book...hm, I actually did get a lot."

"Of course you did, Ronald." Hermione sighed playfully. "Alright, so what are they, Nev?"

"Erm, two are from Hasan for Hermione and me, and one is for me, but there's no name..."

Hermione glanced at the mystery gift but opted to open Hasan's first.

"Oh! Hair spells? They have these?" Hermione cried excitedly, finding a Witch's Guide to Manageable Hair by Catherine Coiffure.

"Yeah, my mum uses them all the time." Ron said thoughtfully. "They're really great...not that you need them or anything...or that I would know..."

"Alright, so what did you get Neville?"

"Er," Neville looked down at the vials in his hand, "They're labeled as Memory Enhancement Potions. And then, a book on disillusionment charms..." A soft smile settled on his face. Hasan really knew him, didn't he? He knew Neville didn't want this, that Neville wanted nothing more than to hide.

"And the unknown gift?" Ron pressed.

Neville reached for it with great trepidation, and carefully unwrapped the parcel. The paper fell away easily and disappeared as it made contact with the red carpet floor.

"Whoa..." Silver, shimmering fabric like water, draped over his hands and cascaded to the floor. But most of all, his hands had vanished beneath the cloak.

"Wicked!" Ron shouted, "That's an invisibility cloak!"

"My Gran said these were super rare." Neville breathed in awe. He swung the cloak around himself and gasped as his entire body disappeared. "I wonder who sent it..."

Just then, Hermione had spotted a little paper card that had fallen out when the cloak was unfurled. She snatched it up and read aloud, "This cloak was destined for our savior. Your parents would want you to have it..." Hermione looked up questioningly. "How odd. But you know...now we can look in the Restricted Section of the library!"

Ron slapped his head, "Is that all you can think about? He got an invisibility cloak, Hermione! Not a library pass!"

"What? Planning on pranking the Slytherins? They aren't that bad you know!"

"Well just because Hasan got you something!"

"What, so you're jealous?" Hermione screeched, "I can't believe you, Ronald! Come on Neville, let's got see if Hasan and Draco have gone down to breakfast yet."

.oOo.

Christmas day had been lovely, with snow falling gently to the ground, and warm fires crackling with lots of laughs between friends. Overall, the holidays were a happy time.

Not for Hasan Castell.

He couldn't recall a fully wonderful Christmas in his entire life! So it was, wrapped in his musings with his nose stuck in the Return of the King, that Hasan found himself pacing down to the dungeons. Draco had already taken up to whatever it was he was doing in his room, and the Gryffindors had already retired to their bedchambers. Hasan sighed, times like these, when he was alone, were both liberating and terrifying. He couldn't lie to himself. Alone he was Harry. Which was ludicrous really...

His little black boots crept silently over the cold dungeon floor, his breath coming out in little misty puffs. Then again, being alone was kind of nice, if only the universe didn't hate him: a shuffle to his left, some sort of breathing, a rustle of fabric on fabric...

"Mr. Castell." came Snape's silky voice. "What," he sneered, "Could a boy like yourself be doing wandering the dungeons at night...Alone?"

Hasan turned slowly, biting his lip with his book clutched to his chest.

"Professor Snape." Hasan breathed. "I was just...being alone."

Even for telling the truth, his answer sounded pretty pitiful.

"Indeed. And pray what, Mr. Castell, did you hope to achieve by 'being alone'?" It was clear from his tone that he was suspicious, but that was really the best answer Hasan could give. He shivered slightly despite his little gray jacket, making Snape raise an eyebrow. "Well, come along then! Follow me."

He turned dramatically, robe billowing behind him before glancing back at the sill motionless child.

"Where are we going, sir?" Hasan asked shrewdly. He didn't really know Snape all too well, apart from potions where he mainly picked on Longbottom. As head of his house, Hasan could only hope (and dread) that this man was more intelligent and undervalued than the school believed.

"Must you always question the teacher?" Snape snapped. He paused for a moment, watching as Hasan's jade eyes seemed to examine the invisible options before him. "We're going to my office, Mr. Castell. Surely you would not refuse a warm mug of cider or hot chocolate?"

At his favorite drink, Hasan's eyes lit up. Severus smirked. Nothing like food to lure a lonely Slytherin. Snape led the way to the Potions classroom, then just beyond where the public entrance to his office lay, across from a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Hasan had never ventured this far into the corridor before, for fear of having to answer questions why he was there. He could just imagine Draco telling his father of some unfathomable relationship between him and Professor Snape. Oh, the horror!

Which reminded him, Snape was Draco's godfather- so perhaps Snape was spying for Lucius too? Or perhaps Snape was spying on them both only for himself. Dealing with Slytherins always did make the variables prone to many different possibilities...

Snape opened the heavy wood door, set in heavy iron hinges, and indicated that Hasan enter with an impatient glare. Hasan had admittedly never been in the professor's office before. Many kids, like Ron Weasley, were in it far too often. Hasan wasn't sure if that was good or bad, for now, he was caught by surprise. The room was actually rather large, with a desk and two student chairs, and many shelves of books. The walls were not, indeed, Slytherin green, but a soft sage, similar to the dorms. The floor was a dark stained hardwood, and the only lights were a small iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"Have a seat." Snape instructed, conjuring cushion on the hard backed chairs. He usually liked it when his vict- he meant, his students, were uncomfortable in his presence. Hasan, however, he wanted to know- which then meant, the boy had to be somewhat comfortable.

"Thank you, sir." Hasan said quietly, though he might not have said anything at all.

His face was blank, handsome, but blank, with average jade green eyes and pink lips. The boy also had long brown hair in a braid tossed over his left shoulder, and a stylish blazer, new boots, and neat shirt and pants. The only indication of his being slightly more mentally active (for he looked pretty statuesque) was the large tome he had placed heavily in his lap.

"Mr. Castell." Snape began, gracefully falling into his chair, "What would you like to drink?"

Hasan thought a moment. He'd like to drink a lot of things: apple juice, apple cider, pumpkin juice, peach smoothies, root beer floats, Shirley Temples, chocolate milk, hot chocolate, melted ice cream-

"Mr. Castell!" Snape snapped, "I haven't got all day. You clearly wanted something in the hall."

Oh, this man was so confusing! One minute he's asking about drinks, the next he's wondering Hasan's life desire! Honestly...how was that Slytherin? There were too many variables. Hasan could play coy and the man wouldn't even know!

Snape was staring at the boy in incredulity. The damn boy's face was blank! Blank! He remained motionless, unresponsive, yet...calm, not cowed, but very relaxed. What the hell? This was Altair-the-idiot-who-downed-several-lethal-potions -and-miraculously-did-not-die's child! What the bloody fucking hell?

Oh, goddammit.

"HASAN!" Snape thundered, snatching the book off the child's lap with ease. Well, if the boy wanted to play that game with the real Slytherin master, then Snape was more than willing to oblige. But you know what? The little cretin didn't even protest or scream or get up. He just stared Severus Snape right in the eye, looking all so innocent as his lips quivered. "How dare you just ignore me! I am your Head of House and I demand respect! Now tell me what you want to drink right now or I'm confiscating this!"

Finally! A specific question!

"I'd like hot chocolate, professor...if, if you don't mind." Hasan said curiously. "Can I have my book back? It's muggle. It won't interest many."

Snape snapped his fingers and a steaming mug of hot chocolate appeared before Hasan. He glanced up at the greasy-haired man, and then back at the drink.

"Well? Is it not to your liking?" Snape sneered. "Been hanging around Longbottom enough for his arrogance to rub off on you?"

"I can have it?" Hasan asked, reaching out for the mug.

"Yes!" Snape growled in exasperation. What the hell was wrong with this kid? Hasan took a tentative whiff of the drink before deeming it clear of potions. Did the boy honestly think he would slip in a potion to drug him? Interrogate him?...And then it clicked: Hasan knew something that he didn't want Snape to know.

And Snape had a good idea of what it was.

"I can also conjure us some abominable biscuits if," he looked Hasan dead on, "if you tell me all you know about the third floor corridor." He knew it was a risk, but when wasn't it when it came to a Castell?

"I don't know anything, sir." Hasan said, though a flicker of recognition lit behind those dull orbs.

"I think you're lying." Snape hissed. "Now I suggest you tell the truth before I decide to use up the rest of my Veritaserum."

Hasan cocked his head. "May I have my book back?"

"No, you may not!" Snape snarled, "Now tell me everything you think you know of the third floor corridor."

It took him two tries every time, didn't it? Hasan thought in amusement.

"I've heard that Quirrell was limping away from the corridor. I've also heard that a three headed dog was guarding a trapdoor, leading to the Philosopher's Stone."

Snape's jaw would've hung open if not for his many years of spying.

"And, pray, how did you hear?" Snape asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I think you don't understand. Do you mean how did I come about this knowledge or how do sound waves travel?"

Now Severus was an intelligent man, not a lucky one, but an intelligent one, which basically made him the complete opposite of Altair Castell. Yet, even he had this peculiar feeling of staring something in the face and not being able to identify it. But even without having a proper classification, Severus also knew how to think on his feet.

"The former." Severus said as gently as he could.

"Oh, well you see, that's private. But I don't think it's too much to worry about since it's all just speculation anyway."

Rather accurate speculation, Snape mused. Well, it didn't matter anyway how the boy came about this information, just that Hasan had it, and now Severus had the last piece to the puzzle: It was Quirrell. He had had his suspicions, but having a complete child piece this together gave him the confirmation he needed. And by Merlin, wasn't that just sad?

"I see. Well, drink up, and under no circumstances are you to go after that stone." Snape sighed, then summoned some hot tea and biscuits from the kitchens which appeared on his desk with a pop.

"Can I have my book back now?" Hasan pressed, unperturbed that he had just been forbidden to go on what would appear to be a lovely adventure.

Snape nodded, sliding the book back over the table. Lord of the Rings...thick for a children's book. Just then, a loud chime sounded off and Snape leapt up to get it. In seconds, Snape was back with a brown paper bag and he gave them to Hasan as well. This was all too familiar.

"It's you, isn't it?" Hasan asked, carefully unraveling the bag and taking out a vial.

"Give those to your father." Snape ordered, "Use your owl, she's keyed to his location." Snape seemed disgusted at this detail, but Hasan's mind was elsewhere.

"How do you know she's keyed?" Hasan asked, surely..."You use Raven."

"Altair gave me permission, I assumed you knew." Raven? What kind of imbecile named one's owl Raven?

Hasan stared at him in pure shock. How had he not known? From the comments of Raven's inconspicuousness, to the fact that Altair gave him an owl to actually use. Hasan knew why the second hadn't occurred to him: because it was idiocy to key anything to one's location, especially if you were in hiding.

"I didn't even know where he got the potions." Hasan confessed evenly, causing Snape to frown in disbelief. "Let alone that you used my owl or that my owl could send things to him! Wait...you know where he is. You're Draco's godfather. Does Lucius know? He's a follower of the Dark Lord!" Hasan was making so many revelations at once that he just had to drink his hot chocolate at the end of his speech.

"Mr. Cas- Hasan," Snape switched, startling the child, "Yes, I am Draco's godfather. Yes, I am good friends with Lucius Malfoy. But I am also loyal to whom I serve."

"I guess that's the question, then, isn't it?" Hasan challenged. "No, don't tell me. I'll learn eventually."

Snape blinked at this brash statement before continuing on with his reassurances. "I make this potion (he gestured) to help your father. He doesn't need them, but I make them anyway. Actually, he insisted that I shouldn't send him any more but I am because I wish to help him. Do you understand?"

"Then you lied, didn't you?" Hasan asked wryly, "My dad didn't give you permission to use Raven after all."

"That is neither here nor there." Snape leered. "As I was saying, Mr. Malfoy is a friend of mine, but nothing more. He certainly does not know Altair's location. Neither do I, really. He believes your father to be dead."

"And yet he told Draco to watch me. He's been writing reports to his father." Hasan said. "It's rather obvious."

Snape actually quirked a lip in amusement. Yes, he could see how Lucius junior would lack some grace and finesse that Lucius senior would possess.

"So Lucius does suspect." Severus whispered to himself. This was rather alarming indeed. If Lucius knew Severus had been helping a defector then Severus was royally screwed when the Dark Lord returned. Salazar, help him! Altair was going to be the death of him!

"Sir," Hasan asked, effectively breaking him from his reverie. "If Mr. Malfoy finds out, will it matter? Is there a Dark Lord to report to?"

Figures Altair's son wouldn't be an idiot!

"We believe, that is many of the staff members, that the Dark Lord has not truly been vanquished."

"I see." Hasan replied in a kind of sad way. He grabbed a biscuit, chewing off the top wearily before beginning presently, "Sir, what can you tell me about Animagi?" He seemed so interested and so on task despite the question being so completely random.

It was then that Snape realized what he was seeing. It made sense: the specific questions, the random questions, the stoic mood, the no mood, the blank face, the caution. This seriously socially-challenged son of Altair's was a genius, probably on the diagnosable scale...and Snape was now in charge of him! Oh dear Merlin!

And suddenly, the next six years just got a whole lot longer.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 8: The Mirror and the Stone

Two months ago, Neville wouldn't have ever dreamed of sneaking out. Let alone doing so beneath the cover of an invisibility cloak. He wasn't sure why exactly he felt so adamant about keeping Ron in the dark. (Hermione had been easier to justify because she was in the girl's dorm.) Perhaps it was because Ron would tell Hermione who would yell at him for breaking the rules. Perhaps it was because Ron only saw the Boy-Who-Lived. There were still some suspicious kids who believed in Harry Potter, but Neville was here and Harry was off in the mountains- so naturally, Neville received all the credit.

The pressure and attention was all just getting to be a bit much. He wished he could talk to Hasan again, but if he were honest with himself, Draco terrified him, and the two were always together. No, the first night out Neville would go alone.

At first he had considered going to the kitchens and having some more pumpkin pie. Then he wanted to explore the library's restricted section and make Hermione proud, but just as he was about to enter, a door caught his eye. It was a regular door, a few twists and turns down from the library, but Neville could have sworn it wasn't there mere hours ago! How unusual! Neville's curiosity got the better of him as he pulled it open and walked inside. The interior was bare and rather dark, only about ten feet by ten feet across.

"Lumos." he whispered, and then jumped back in fright.

A large, beautiful mirror, about twenty feet high with a thick golden frame stood before him. How has he not noticed it before? At the top lay a magnificent stretch of gold carving in a peak, bordered by two towers, but what was most interesting were the words: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

It was complete nonsense, so Neville just ignored it. He was much more concerned with the fact that he was in the mirror, despite the aid of his invisibility cloak. He still wondered who gave it to him...

He whipped around, just to ascertain of his utter isolation, and then slowly dropped the cloak to the ground. It fell like water over river stones, but he didn't pay any mind, for the mirror...for the mirror was showing something truly remarkable.

"Gran? Mum? Uncle? Dad?" But there were others, "Hasan? Hermione? Ron? Dumbledore!"

He turned around again, but there was no one. The only sound came from his labored breaths and from his beating heart. Slowly, he faced the mirror again...

"Neville, we love you no matter what." Gran's crackly voice told mirror-Neville. "Even if you can't do magic very well. Or be the Boy-Who-Lived, or even if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returns. We love you unconditionally. No matter-"

Neville's hand that had been on the mirror slid away as tears rolled down his cheeks. Gran would never say that to him. She might love him, but certainly she would have expectations of him! This was a demon mirror! But...he loved it. He watched as mirror-Gran and mirror-Uncle gave him a hug before his friends took center stage. Mirror-Hermione drew close to Neville as a bang ensued from the hallway. Neville froze.

"Mrs. Norris, do you smell him?" Filch raised his voice, "I know you're in there! The library door was askew!"

Damn! How did a cat care about doors anyway? One day he was going to give Mrs. Norris a kick...

"I'll have you know that you'll be in detention for a month!-"

"Argus? What exactly is going on here?" Minerva's prim voice came through.

"There's a student out and about on a midnight ride!" Argus growled.

"On Christmas?" Minerva asked. "They're all too tired, how did you deduce a student was out?"

"Mrs. Norris found the library door ajar."

"Ah... Well, why would they stick around here? Bring your cat and we'll be off to-" her pointed look made it clear she meant the corridor.

"Right."

Soon two pairs of footsteps shuffled and strode briskly away. They were quite loud in the silence and Neville was surprised he had not heard them approach. The mirror...he felt an aching to look back, but he knew if he did, he'd be caught for sure. Steeling himself, he flung the cloak about him and scurried back to Gryffindor tower. The portrait of the Fat Lady eyed him speculatively as he shrugged out his cloak.

"Caput Draconis." Neville muttered, as the Fat Lady rolled her eyes before swinging open for him. But Neville was just thankful to be through the door:

He was going to have to thank Hasan later for those memory potions.

.oOo.

"Animagi?" Severus repeated. "And what would you want to learn about them for?"

"Professor McGonagall mentioned them, sir. She's been tutoring me at times and briefly explained when I asked about her cat form."

"Ah. I see." Damn Minerva! She should really keep some tricks to herself! Imagine, if all the school learned to be Animagus! "It is a highly difficult transformation that would take years to understand let alone practice and fulfill."

Instead of looking crestfallen, Hasan just stared up at him. "I don't mind time." Hasan said. Honestly, he felt as if he were living on borrowed time. Just like in Narnia, best to just get started right away and then repeat the process should it disappear.

"Twenty years, and you don't mind?" Snape asked lightly, but with a hidden edge.

"I think you're exaggerating to discourage me." Hasan replied equally as lightly. "I hate bragging, and I hate hypocrites, so I must be one...but I can learn rather quickly. Surely you've noticed?"

Of course Severus had noticed! The damn child managed to be in his top three, competing with (and seriously desecrating) Granger and Malfoy.

"Yes." Snape bit out. "But I highly advise against independent study. Transforming one's body is dangerous and should not be taken lightly. It might be painful at first, you may be stuck in your form due to an injury-"

"But, sir, independent implies a singular." Hasan said.

"No absolutely not!" Snape snapped. "I refuse to condone-"

"I am rather good at eluding the authorities, Professor, Altair has seen to that. Hermione and Draco and also top of our year. If you insist on withdrawing your guidance..."

Withdrawing! Snape hadn't even been aware he was involved!

"Don't you dare try and blackmail me, Mr. Castell. You will find fighting with fire will get you badly burned."

A flaming manila folder...

"Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem." Hasan said with a charming smile. "You won't tell Mr. Malfoy because you're loyal to Altair. You won't tell on me because Dumbledore would have your head on a platter for teaching a child anything useful. Or even having knowledge of it and being unable to stop it. Knowledge you will have, but just see if we won't succeed. I'd much rather have your help. You seem intelligent...I like your voice actually. So will you make it final?"

Severus sighed. This child would be the death of him.

"I agree to guide you in order to avoid unintended suicide." Snape said finally. "But tell one word of this to anybody..." His death glare was enough of a warning.

"Please don't concern yourself, Professor. Now that I have your support, you should know I only have one last thing to make the transformation complete."

Snape literally gaped at him. What the hell had just happened? This child had cornered him, blackmailed him, forced his allegiance in aid all for a process he had already completed. What the fuck?

"Explain yourself." Severus demanded, vanishing their cups and biscuits with a snap of his fingers, and leaning across the desk to breathe in the boy's infuriatingly blank face. Hasan tilted his head. "Oh, for the love of Salazar! Why did you need my support?"

Hasan's face lit up. "Because you, unlike all the other Professors...hm, maybe not Professor McGonagall, don't seem to notice much of anything. You would surely find out sooner or later, and I wish to avoid a confrontation with authorities as much as possible."

Why that little snake! He really did know how to keep under the radar! Severus was both proud and agitated all at once.

"So what you really want from me is the potion and my silence." Severus stated. Hasan nodded.

"Thank you." Hasan bowed his head before getting up, off of the chair. "...for the hot chocolate and biscuits and showing an interest in my book. Merry Christmas."

With the thick tome pressed to his chest, Hasan Castell exited the Potion Master's office all in one piece. Ron had been exaggerating- Snape was really quite amiable once you got to know him!

.oOo.

The following night brought Hermione and Neville to the Slytherin table.

"How are you, Tracey?" Hermione asked eagerly of the blonde witch. Tracey lowered her eyes demurely, looking to Theo and then to Daphne before smiling up at the mudblood.

"Hello, Hermione. I am doing well, thank you."

Meanwhile, Neville had discreetly given Hasan a note telling him to meet him before the library right after curfew. He invited Draco as well, for the Boy-Who-Lived had learned to trust the pureblood aristocrat. Draco still detested the red head, but he did get on well enough with Neville. Hermione even seemed to bother him less. A vast improvement and really a relief because pretending to like someone is so much more tiring than actually genuinely liking someone. Hasan supposed it was the Troll Incident that brought them together, and then of course, the recent events and their mystery. Either way, Hasan enjoyed this more relaxed Draco. He still sneered and drawled and smirked, but was a lot less malicious (at least towards Hasan).

"We'll go?" Draco whispered. Hasan nodded imperceptibly as the rest of the Slytherin table chatted loudly around them.

So it was, that a few hours later, Hasan and Draco had slipped out of the Slytherin dungeons and were waiting together in their pajamas, silky black and silver respectively, for Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Where in Salazar's name, is he?" Draco hissed as he wrapped his arms tightly around his front.

"Cold?" Hasan wondered.

Draco opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

"It's alright," Hasan said and cast a quick warming charm on the both of them. Malfoy blinked in surprise before smiling at his friend. For a half-blood, this wizard sure knew a lot.

"Hey," Draco started softly, "do you mind if I borrow your Lord of the Rings books sometime?"

"I don't think I'd mind." Hasan responded, "Just promise me you'll start with the Hobbit, Draco. The trilogy is built on the prelude."

"Oh, alrigh-" Draco began but then the next few words were cut off though his mouth continued to move. Hasan looked around in mild interest before suddenly, Neville's head appeared out of thin air! Draco screamed and leapt back, tugging Hasan close and holding onto his arm. So much for fearless Malfoys...

"Hey Hasan, Draco." Neville whispered with a smile, opening the front of his cloak so that they could see him. He canceled the silencing charm with a mutter and wave of his wand, and Draco looked about to tear his head off.

"What were you thinking, Longbottom?" he whispered furiously. "You could have messed up and made us mute for life!"

"Oh come, Draco. Neville's not half bad." Hasan observed. "But I am curious. Where did you get that invisibility cloak?"

Neville wet his lips and frowned. "Christmas gift. I'm not sure."

Hasan reached out to touch it, feeling the smooth magical fabric glide between his fingers like water from a trickling stream...

"You know this is an original." Hasan whispered. "The Three Brothers."

Draco gasped. "You mean-" he gaped at the cloak to Hasan's face then back. "You can't mean that that's-"

"Merlin, Hasan!" Neville exclaimed, "That's wicked!" Apparently Ron's meager vocabulary had rubbed off on him.

"Indeed." Hasan remarked, unaffected. "Where are we going? I assume you had something to show us."

"Oh, yeah. Um, follow me." Neville said, and slowly descended down the hall. "I just wanted to thank you," Neville said as they walked, "for those memory potions. They really helped."

Draco glared sharply at Hasan.

"You got him something but not me!" Draco demanded haughtily.

Hasan shrugged. He wasn't about to tell Draco that he only gave presents to people who trusted him. Not the other way around since Hasan didn't really trust anyone. But Hermione had certainly learned to rely on him, and Neville had as good as confessed the entire farce. (Though Hasan could've figured it out it was so poorly executed.)

"Draco," Hasan said evenly, "I had no idea you were going to get me a gift."

"No idea!" Draco practically screamed as Neville ushered them inside the room and cast another silencing charm around the door. "How could you not know? We are friends! Hasan, Salazar! Friends! I know you're weird but did you seriously not notice?"

"You're always with me," Hasan said slowly, "when we eat and always when we study. You save me a seat in nearly every class."

Draco watched Hasan's blank eyes and keened.

"How can you not feel? Can you really not feel anything at all? I've been begging my father for days! Days! To let me give you that dagger!" At Neville's sharp intake of breath, Draco rounded on him, "Yes! The Malfoy family dagger! Three of its kind ever made, and I had to beg and make promises just to make father even consider it! And now you go off and make the Boy-Who-Lived some potions!"

Neville shrank back. Draco was in a frenzy now, blonde hair shaken loose from its gelled bindings, and chest heaving with the energy of his outburst. Malfoy's weren't supposed to lose control. Malfoy's weren't meant to make friends or beg or cry.

"Dammit!" Draco shouted before his eyes came to rest on a glorious golden mirror, mainly just to hide his face from the others.

"The mirror of Erised." Neville announced somewhat lamely. "I-I wanted to share it with you. But, um, I think you'll figure it out on your own." Desperate to leave the two, Neville hid back inside his cloak and ran quickly from the room. A distressed Malfoy was a scary thing indeed. It wasn't worth seeing his forbidden fruit again.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire." Hasan read aloud, pointing to the inscription at the top. He didn't seem at all bothered that Neville had just left them alone. Or that Draco was now staring at him intently.

"Dammit, Hasan." Draco muttered, tears trekking slowly down his face. "I just don't understand why you like Longbottom more than me."

"Envy doesn't become you, Draco. Don't cry. It's a waste of emotion."

Malfoy laughed pitifully. "And you would know about emotion, wouldn't you?"

"No, no I wouldn't." Hasan said sadly. "I'm surprised that you asked your father for the dagger. I didn't know of its importance. France has similar things, but I had not made the correlation...I will give you a gift, Draco."

"No need." Draco said, even as his eyes wandered over to the mirror and stayed entranced there. "You couldn't give me what I need."

Hasan bit his lip as he watched Draco fall into the mirror's trance. His face became dreamlike and tranquil but fraught with such hideous anguish. A child's face shouldn't look like that, but it did. Hasan turned his large jade eyes towards the mirror and gazed with little excitement. There he was, there Draco was...and then, mirror-Hasan turned his wide jade eyes to Hasan, locking onto him as the reflection of his soul,...and the eyes glowed a brilliant emerald green, lighting up the entire mirror in emerald light...so beautiful...

.oOo.

"Hasan! Hasan!' a voice above was calling him, was slapping his face, and pulling his braid. "Hasan! Wake up! Merlin! Hasan!"

"Draco?" Hasan asked, then stilled as the world tilted on its axis. "Oh, Salazar, what happened?"

"I-I don't know, you were with me one second, and then you fell down the next."

"I...see." The green light, the emerald green light. It had been so beautiful, so beautiful...

"What did you see in the mirror?" Draco asked tentatively.

"What did you see?" Hasan asked, propping himself up on the castle floor.

Draco bit his lip and swallowed nervously.

"I saw...my entire family, all safe and well. No Azkaban, no danger, just-well, there."

The blond heaved a sigh and shifted uncomfortably. When he really thought about it, his family was so screwed up. How could he ever have what the mirror showed? Why did the mirror show things he couldn't have?

"Draco, I don't suppose you want to learn your Christmas gift now, do you?" Hasan wondered idly, succeeding in breaking through his brooding.

"Learn?" Draco echoed, wondering what on earth the boy was talking about.

"To be an animagus." Hasan turned to him and smiled teasingly, "I've just made all the preparations. You didn't think I forgot about you, did you, mon ami?"

.oOo.

It was exactly two days after Christmas when the Castell boy was back in Snape's office, enjoying some chocolate biscotti's.

"When will the potion be ready?" Hasan asked as Severus went around the room, reorganizing and sorting through various paperwork.

"I would have thought you knew, seeing as you know everything else," Snape sneered, looking at Hasan down his hooked nose. He sighed, "I expect it to be completed in another six months."

"Thank you...Do you mind giving me the extra three doses as well?" Hasan enquired. "I know it makes four, and I would really like to use them all."

Snape raised as arched eyebrow at this. "Four? Three extras for whom, may I ask?"

"Je ne sais pas, I don't know." Hasan answered.

Snape released an exasperated sigh. "Who do you think will use them?" This whole rephrasing sentences thing was really quite irritating. (Luckily, Severus Snape was a master at language so was able to rephrase within seconds!)

"Draco for his Christmas present." Hasan said happily. Snape fought not to wince. The last thing he needed was for Lucius junior to be scurrying around Hogwarts as some, undetectably, devilish animal! He nodded anyway, for he was curious as to whom else. "I am unsure as to the others."

"Think carefully, Mr. Castell. This is not a simple procedure. Mr. Malfoy shall come to me after he has completed his Analytical stage. I, in turn, will aid him in the Visualization stage and finally the potion."

Hasan smiled. He knew this had been a good idea.

"Professor? A bit off topic, but I was wondering. What do you know of the Mirror of Erised?"

Snape stiffened; Hasan's eyes narrowed.

"It is the mirror of desire." Snape answered shortly.

"Is it accurate?"

Snape stopped in his work and gave Hasan a shrewd, contemplative look.

"Why is it that you wish to know, Mr. Castell?"

"I saw it." Hasan breathed, and then bit his lip, "...and then I fainted."

"You...fainted?" Snape repeated tonelessly. "You somehow found the mirror and fainted? What in Merlin's name did you see?"

He knew that Dumbledore had placed the mirror inside the school for 'safekeeping,' but somehow it had escaped Severus mind that Dumbledore's definition of safe was not the same as his. What headmaster left a priceless artifact where any thoughtless urchin could come and knock it over?

"I saw emerald. A flash of emerald. Is there a spell that creates beautiful emerald light? It was so gorgeous. I lost myself in it..."

Severus swallowed, his breath hitching in his throat. He wasn't sure what to say, what to keep and what to tell. There was only one curse he knew of...only one.

"The killing curse, Mr. Castell." Severus told him gravely, "The Avada Kedavra, the worst of the three unforgivable." His voice was hoarse, and rightly so. This young boy in front of him had just described the killing curse as beautiful...

"I'm sorry." Hasan said, not sounding it at all. "But I think I'll be late for lunch if I don't leave right now."

"Of course." Severus said, frozen in place. "Of course..."

.oOo.

The final exams were looming ever closer and Hermione practically lived in the library. Yet, she still managed to have time for Hasan, Draco, and Neville, and would on occasion help Ron with his homework.

Draco, like Hasan, was more than prepared for his tests, and was only now mastering visualization with his godfather, Severus. He imagined his Animagus form to be large or small and shrewd. He wanted something he could use to impress, something that would be beautiful. It was truly the best Christmas gift ever, albeit a little past the deadline.

True to his word, Severus had saved the four batches for Hasan to do with as he pleased. Hasan wasn't sure if he wanted to train Hermione, but was even considering giving some to Neville. He decided to leave it be for now. After all, Snape could always make more.

During the course of the entire year, Altair had not sent one single letter. The only mail received was his Christmas gifts, which he loved with all his heart. He couldn't wait to see Altair again, and then he'd confront the man about Severus. The man really did know how to hide what was important to him.

.oOo.

"Tracey," Draco asked, "Want to play a game?"

"What kind of game?" Tracey questioned, as Daphne's interest caught. Pansy had drifted away from Draco in the subsequent months, and had taken to chatting meanly to Bullstrode.

"Wizard's Chess." Draco declared. "Hasan will play the winner." He gestured to Hasan to his left, who was currently reading the Two Towers for the umpteenth time.

"Oh, alright," Tracey said, sitting on the green velvet chair across from Draco's.

"I bet Draco's going to beat you again." Daphne teased. "Hey Hasan, who do you think will win?"

Hasan's eyes rose curiously from the pages of his book to stare innocently at the two players. Tracey was always cautious, but very smart. Draco was confident, and very sly. "I think Tracey will give Draco a run for his money." Hasan observed. "You each have your strengths and weaknesses. So it all depends on your ability to respond off of one another."

"Oh! Well said, Hasan!" Daphne gushed as Tracey made the first move.

"What do you mean?" Draco drawled, "He's always well spoken!"

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Draco... Hey, how's the Boy-Who-Lived? Haven't seen Neville in the library in a while." Daphne said.

"He's good as ever." Draco muttered, moving one of his pawns.

"I think he's just as happy for the summer hols as the rest of us!" Hasan interjected.

"Probably, but he may have to train too," Tracey said thoughtfully. "I'd hate to be him."

Yeah, you and me both. Hasan sighed inwardly.

"I still don't understand." Daphne muttered. "They've always said it was Harry Potter who defeated the Dark Lord. But now, Harry Potter is nowhere to be found and they say Neville's the one. Sounds like a farce to me."

"You may be right, Daphne," Tracey agreed softly, blocking Draco with her pawn. "Neville's levelheaded, but certainly not savior material. I wonder where they're hiding Harry Potter. Maybe he's even hiding from them."

During the length of this conversation, Hasan's heart began to beat rapidly. Damn Slytherins and their too intelligent minds!

He zoned out for a bit, thinking of his own Animagus form. Once he downed that potion, what would happen? Would he be large or small? Beautiful or plain? Ugly as all hell? Hasan found that it didn't matter as long as it was him. He was a little concerned about changing back though. Just recently, Hasan had managed to reverse the Glamor and Notice-Me-Not spell woven around him. It was truly terrifying to think he was stuck in Hasan's body, not that he didn't like it- he loved it. But those eyes. He loved those emerald eyes.

Would it be terrible if he said he wished to see emerald everywhere?

Hence his secrecy. After curfew, Hasan would cast multiple silencing charms around his room and bed, then practice the reversal in a large circular mirror he conjured. Raven liked to sit in on most of these training sessions, and Hasan felt a lot less empty without her.

The previous night, Hasan had imagined brilliant emerald before the wall colors glowed vibrantly. He had to switch it back of course, because it really didn't reflect prettily on his skin, but he tried it with some of his black shirts and dress robes, and he found a vast improvement in his wardrobe. It was a wonder he hadn't tried this before! He did find it strange that the wand responded to his thoughts rather than to a spoken spell, but he figured he'd ask Professor Snape about unspoken spells later. Altair, while skilled, didn't appreciate silent casting, but Hasan wasn't ignorant enough to go running to any of he other teachers. They would surely tell Dumbledore and he would no doubt want to keep an eye on him. Horrifying!

So Hasan remained silent on the account of his identity, his appearance, his silent castings, the Animagus project, the mirror, and the stone. Who knew Hogwarts could've been so fun?

"Hasan? Want to play Tracey?" Draco asked, nudging him a bit.

"Yes, pourquoi pas?" Hasan smiled, taking Draco's place.

"I'm warning you, I'm not going easy, Hasan. Even if you are a French boy." Tracey winked.

"I wouldn't imagine it any other way." Hasan returned.

The game was rather mundane at first. Tracey moved, Hasan moved, Tracey moved, Hasan moved...but then it began to look much a mess of strings. They had been at it so long that many of their housemates had come over to become spectators. Tracey herself was gaping.

"Hasan, I never knew you could play!" she exclaimed, seeing the mess too. Hasan nodded. The board was, as clear as day, a fancy game of dominoes. The possibilities had dwindled down, and some quick thinking brought the possible paths down to twenty. Tracey pursed her lips as she decided what to do, but Hasan remained as blank and calm as ever.

There were whispers as Tracey took his castle with her knight, and then Hasan brought his Queen to take her bishop. His King was in the open, but so wedge between the players that he was practically untouchable.

A few moves later, and Hasan descended his Knight to kill her Queen. Then there was only Tracey's King and a few others, but the King was what everyone focussed on. She had three moves to get out of there. Tracey, Hasan, Tracey, Hasan, Tracey. Yes! But then Hasan slid his King into the slot, and Tracey was most thoroughly trapped. She couldn't move back the way she came because Hasan's pieces had basically followed her. She couldn't move her piece at all! Her hand hovered over her last pawn, and it inched forward most pathetically. Hasan moved one his pieces forward.

"Checkmate, mademoiselle." Hasan smiled as her face dropped. "A truly lovely game." They shook hands over the clapping and gossip of the crowd, and Hasan quickly excused himself to go to bed. Exams were coming after all. Another game like that would take them to two in the morning...

.oOo.

It was right after exams that it happened. Hasan, Hermione, Draco, and Neville were pouring out of the castle with the rest of the school. Tracey and Daphne were still obligated to unite with Pansy, which was a shame really. Perhaps next year they would manage to break free? Hasan shook his head with a silent laugh. They were probably better protected as a unit. Why risk their Slytherin status to hang out with the Boy-Who-Lived, and the two odd Slytherins that didn't need to worry about association to save their hide?

"Hasan, what's wrong?" Draco asked worriedly, putting his hands on Hasan's shoulders. (It truly was a testament of their friendship, seeing how far they had come since Hasan threatened to break his bones...) Neville and Hermione whipped around to study the jade-eyed boy as well.

"Are you feeling alright, Hasan?" Hermione queried nervously. "Should I get Professor Snape for you? Or Professor McGonagall? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Her voice got shriller as she fretted. Neville, wide-eyed beside her, didn't look much better.

"It's..." Well, he could hardly say his scar was hurting, could he? It had happened after their DADA exam. Professor Quirrell had looked up oh-so-innocently and had just happened to lock eyes with Hasan. There was no suspicion in his gaze, but a tingling lingered in his mind, as if someone had decided to use Legilimency...but Hasan had natural Occulomency shields. He wasn't sure if Quirrell was trying to read his mind, to be perfectly truthful. But then, why did he have this prickling? Ow! What in Salazar's name-! It actually hurt! It was the oddest sensation: the rest of his body, even his head was fine, except for that one lightning bolt scar...

"Hasan?" Neville asked nervously.

"I-I think Quirrell is planning on fetching the stone today." Hasan quietly hissed.

"Wait, how do you know?" Hermione wondered sharply. "Did he say something unusual?"

"No, but...I've just got a bad feeling about this." Hasan felt breathing behind him and turned around nonchalantly as Severus Snape descended from the shadows. He seemed mildly surprised that Hasan was facing him while the other four just gaped in surprise. It was most unbecoming of a Malfoy.

"What would four children be doing in the entrance on a day like this?" Snape sneered, his glittered obsidian eyes boring into Hermione and Neville.

"W-well, we were just-" Hermione started, but was cut off from a sharp glare from Hasan. Snape raised a delicate eyebrow and looked to Hasan instead.

"I suggest you don't try to lie, Mr. Castell." Snape threatened icily. Hasan was again reminded why more than half the school loathed this man, but he couldn't bring himself to feel either way.

"My head hurts." Hasan said simply. "My friends were concerned."

"Indeed."

His gaze swept across the forms and the Gryffindors, but Draco stood his ground.

"Sir, isn't there a potion or something..."

"I believe my time is rather occupied with other potions at the present moment." Snape said cryptically. "One of which should be complete within the week, and will be sent with the others." His gaze lingered on Hasan, though it was Draco who revealed the true weight of his words.

"Thank you, sir." Draco said, only using sir as a formality, since he called him Sev in private.

Hermione and Neville were gaping, but tried to appear as if they were not interested. So what if the Slytherins had formed a bond with their head of house?

"I suggest frolicking with your classmates." Snape spat, "Someone might think it odd for four children to be hanging around the entrance..."

Hasan nodded.

"We were just about to go."

Seemingly satisfied, the Potions Master swept from their presence, black cloak following menacingly behind him. Hermione opened her mouth to ask what had just gone on, but Hasan easily distracted them with an 'ow!' and a few words related to the stone.

"We'll go at ten, when everyone's asleep." Hasan said.

"I'll bring the cloak." Neville volunteered. "I think we'll all fit under it."

"Hasan, are you absolutely sure? What if were caught? Or expelled!" Hermione whispered furiously.

"Then I will personally introduce you into Beauxbatons," Hasan said unconcerned. "You'd fit right in, all the girls are gorgeous and intelligent." Hasan actually had little proof of this, but it seemed to soothe Hermione and her ego just a bit.

"We'll meet you outside the library again?" Draco wondered. Neville nodded to Hermione's horrification.

"You did this before!" Hermione flipped.

"Ne t'en fais pas, Hermione," Hasan smiled. "It may take four of us, but we can defeat that fraud of a DADA professor. Trust me."

Hermione melted.

.oOo.

At ten thirty, the four ventured into the third floor corridor and reached the locked room in a timely fashion. Hasan remembered the locked rooms at the Leaky Cauldron and touched the knob with the intention of opening it. He felt his magic extend down his fingertips before the door clicked open and Hasan led them in. The others thought nothing of it, for their attention as soon occupied by a giant three-headed dog. And they thought the troll was bad.

"Lumos!" Draco murmured, and the entire room came into clarity. The beast was slightly more terrifying than before, with drool dripping down its enumerable pointy fangs, and claws many inches long, but another discover stifled their worries. The dog was asleep, laying on its side, beside the trapdoor. A harp was playing next to utter silence by the dog's long floppy ears, but each not strung kept the dog at bay.

"Well that's ironic." Hermione said. "Music to soothe the savage beast!"

Within minutes, the four were down the chute, and had quickly overcome the Devil's Snare with Neville's plant expertise. The broom challenge they left to Draco, who was more than eager to oblige, doing all sorts of fancy twists and turns.

"Catch it, Draco!"

"To your left, right! Up!"

Hasan was staring at the up-and-coming quidditch player with little more than faint interest.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Hasan sighed after what felt like eternity. (It had only been seven minutes). Hasan grabbed a broom and kicked off, hardly hearing the Gryffindor's frantic shouts below.

"Hasan! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Get down! Draco can do it!"

Instead, Hasan was focused on the little winged key that Draco was most definitely failing at catching. Draco's head was hurting about now, from all the rapid movement and getting hit in the head by all the other metal keys. It was a minute before Draco noticed his fellow flyer.

"Hasan?" Draco queried in awe. Hasan coked an eyebrow at him, a rather cheeky move for someone who didn't show much emotion.

"I'd like to be over before Snape gets suspicious, Draco." Hasan said simply. "It's been seven minutes..."

Draco made a face at that, but Hasan chose wisely to ignore it.

"Give me a second." Hasan said, before diving at the irritating little object. The key flitted about mockingly, zipping and zooming from one end of the room to another. Hasan, who had not been on a broom in ages (because Madam Hooch absolutely refused to teach the accident prone firsties), was marveling at the ease at which he was able to now. Hasan was lean, light, and very fast, with keen eyes and a sharp mind. He was the ideal seeker, if only Hasan showed some interest in the sport.

It stemmed from some psychological disorder where he always wanted to be sure. He needed clarity, intent, and above all control. He didn't like changes to his schedules, though he was rather flexible for all it irritated him. It wasn't that he was an utter bastard about it, just that if he was studying for Herbology, he really didn't want to have to switch gears to study for something else because of some random pop test- he wanted to finish what he started. He knew that he'd get it all done anyway.

Right now, Hasan felt remarkably in control. Brooms were never his favorite thing because his feet were off the ground, and one strong breeze could practically cripple him for life. That being said, Hasan was actually enjoying the look of pure surprise on Draco's face. Within seconds, he had pinned the little key down in his fist, its wings fluttered rapidly and angrily as he gripped it harder.

"Well done!' Draco clapped as he alighted off his broom. "I didn't know you could fly!"

"Wow, Hasan!" Hermione cheered. Neville nodded in absolute awe.

"Let us continue, mes amies." Hasan said briskly, sliding the key into the slot, and entering into the next realm.

Before them was a giant chess set, reminiscent of Hasan's game with the Slytherins.

"Should've brought Ron," Neville was mumbling, "He beats me every time."

Draco tried hard not to laugh, as Neville would probably lose to Crabbe and Goyle together, if given the chance.

"Don't worry, Hermione. Hasan's quite capable, aren't you, Hasan?"

Hasan let a smile seep onto his face, infused with a certain amount of mischievous as he directed his friends. The entire game reminded him of Professor McGonagall for some odd reason. Probably because she realized how important every single move was to make, and not to strike out at the wrong time. Minerva knew patience, but also knew how to play one in a while. It described her perfectly. And though Hasan wasn't too much of an emotion person himself, he fancied himself a good reader of others.

"Checkmate!" Neville roared as he slashed the opponent's Queen. The stone pieces bowed and let the children pass onto the next chamber. Hasan found himself bringing up the rear.

The next chamber was rather a letdown, for the murdered troll was just that- already murdered. It still wreaked to high heaven though, and Hermione had to cast a quick air freshening charm on them all. Neville shuddered as he walked past but Draco smirked at it triumphantly, as if he had defeated the troll. Hasan ignored them both.

Upon entering the following chamber, through dramatic purple flames, Hasan noticed that it contained but a single table with exactly seven potion bottles and a piece of parchment. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had created this barrier.

"Sev!" Draco groaned after he had read the clues aloud. "How in Salazar's name are we ever going to get through this?" He brought his hand up dramatically as Hermione snatched the paper from him.

"It's simple logic, Draco." Hermione informed him in her presentation voice. "Many witches and wizards don't have an ounce of logic in them, and would be stuck her for eternity."

Neville let out a whimper. He wouldn't out it past the greasy bastard to trap the Boy-Who-Lived and his fellow Gryffindor in here forever! (He momentarily forgot that Hasan and Draco were Slytherins.)

"Oh, I've got it!" Hermione screamed victoriously, "The smallest one will send us forward through the black flames, but the rounded one on the right should send us back through the purple flames."

"A-are you sure it's not poison?" Neville asked nervously, looking pleadingly at Hermione.

"No, I'm positive," Hermione said matter of factly.

Draco was gobsmacked. He looked to Hasan who was smiling smugly. Yes, this was why he had befriended this witch back on the train. Merlin knew he could do it with the right focus, but time was of the essence! Suppose Snape found them out of bed? He'd skin them!

"Im-impressive, Hermione." Draco said stiffly. He winced as if it was a blow to his pride, but Hermione beamed and actually hugged him.

"It appears as if there's only enough potion forward for two..." Hermione said sadly.

"I-I'll go." Neville stuttered. "I'm the B-boy-Who-Lived." He seemed to drown in guilt as he said it, but Hasan was sure he was plotting Dumbledore's awful demise.

Draco seemed wary as he glanced at the flames.

"Hasan?" he asked. "I don't want to just leave you but..."

"It will be fine, Draco." Hasan smiled lightly. "Now Hermione, Draco. If we don't emerge in ten minutes I want you to run and get Professor Snape."

"Why not the Headmaster, Hasan?" Hermione enquired.

"Snape." Hasan repeated. "And if he's not here, be sure to get him here."

Hermione's lip trembled, but she held her head high.

"Be safe." Draco murmured.

Hermione took the first sip, quickly followed by Draco. When they had disappeared through the flames, Hasan turned to Neville.

"You can do this, Neville." Hasan said. He wasn't the encouraging type, but he felt as if anything would be god right now.

"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore expects me to do these things..." Neville was mumbling to himself. "I can do it. I can do it..."

"Of course you can, Neville." Hasan whispered. "Just take a sip. I'll be right behind you."

.oOo.

"Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived." a disgustingly hoarse voice floated out to the flames and the shadows where Neville was trembling.

"Y-yes." Neville shouted (stupidly, Hasan thought).

Hasan emerged past the flames just as Neville began to shake violently. Oh, sweet Merlin!

"You can do this, Neville." Hasan whispered, placing a hand on Neville's shoulder. Neville gripped his wand tighter, as he nodded tersely. The two returned their attention forward and Hasan would have gasped if he had not been so unaware.

Right before them, below the short circular stairs, was the mirror of Erised, rising grandiloquently in the otherwise empty chamber. An amethyst turban was unwrapped on the ground, and a man, not Quirrell was facing the mirror, so that Hasan could see the mutilated reflection. Quirrell's actual face was facing them, however, but he seemed dismayed, nervous almost. When he spoke, it was not his mouth that was moving, but the one in the reflection.

Neville stifled a keen.

"And who iss thiss you have brought, Neville Longbottom? A friend? An ally perhaps?" the voice was teasing, but so fatally sharp.

Neville took a step forward, into the light, facing the DADA professor head on. It was rather surreal, seeing as how Neville had just taken an exam with the man mere hours before...

"A friend!" Neville shouted firmly.

"Ah, a friend." the voice purred he brought Quirrell's hand up to the mirror, and Quirrell winced in pain as his hand was twisted at an unnatural angle. With a snap of the same hand, robes sprung up around Hasan and Neville's body, Neville falling to the floor with a muffled shout and a crash, Hasan landing gracefully with a soft thud. How predictable, Hasan murmured inwardly, how did Neville not see that one coming? At least Hasan had had time to cast a quick silent cushioning charm... "What has the fool, Dumbledore done! I can see myself getting the stone! But nothing more! Where is it hidden!"

"M-master, if I may," Quirrell pleaded.

"You can't do anything." the voice shrieked, then chuckled as if catching on to a joke, "I sssee...use the boy. Bring him here, Quirrell. Have him stand in front of the mirror and tell me what he sees."

A snap of fingers later, and Neville was on his shaking feet, completely untied, but with Quirrell's creepy hands on his back. Not that Neville would have done anything anyway. He was just petrified with fright.

"I-I see my-" Gran, no! He couldn't say Gran! What if they targeted her? But then, the image dissolved away to be replaced with him, and the stone in his hand, now slipping into his pocket...! He felt it now, against his leg. The stone! What was he going to do? Ah! Panic! "-self winning the House Cup."

"Er," Quirrell said.

"You idiot! He's lying!" the voice spat.

The ugly, demented face of what Hasan assumed to be Voldemort (because there weren't many pictures of the wizard in this...unusual state) faced Hasan, but looked on blankly, as if focusing on what was through Quirrell's eyes. He probably was, Hasan realized, and began to gather his magic...

"Turn around and let me face him!" Voldemort demanded. Quirrell did so hurriedly before the order was fully out. "What do you see, Longbottom? I know it's in your pocket."

Neville froze, not even attempting to feint. "Yes, Lord Voldemort knows all." he hissed and sent a crucio to Neville, who instantaneously threw the stone to Hasan...

Hasan was not enjoying the show. It was rather one sided, no pun intended, and the dialogue was a bit too dry. He had managed so far to undo his bindings, but left them on for show. But as the stone swiveled in the air, Neville falling to the floor unconscious, Hasan lunged in combination with a summoning charm (which predictably didn't work), and amazingly caught the tiny object! His bonds fell free as he leapt, and he straightened himself before turning to face the Dark Lord.

"I was wondering if I would see you today, Mr. Castell." Voldemort hissed. "I haven't heard that name in a while. You must be the last in the line. After I killed your father."

Hasan was cursing Altair right now for not giving him more background information. But Voldemort was practically feeding it to him off a stick! The bastard thought Altair was dead!

"Or perhaps not...Harry Potter." Voldemort growled. Quirrell gasped in surprised on the other side of him.

"H-h-harry P-potter!" This time, his stutter was not forced.

"Did Dumbledore really think, I, the great Dark Lord would not be able to remember who ripped me from my body?" Voldemort cried in outrage. "Or that your silly disguise would hide you from me? I can feel it, your aura, calling out to me. We're connected, always."

"How?" Hasan asked, leaving the question purposefully open-ended. How did he sense it? How were they connected?

"How?" Voldemort repeated. "I could ask you the same thing. How was it-" he advanced slowly, "-that a baby with no magical talent has defeated me? The greatest wizard of all time?"

"You're not." Hasan protested.

"Not what?"

"The greatest wizard...Gandalf is."

The Dark Lord actually looked surprised. What the hell? As his red pupils narrowed, he saw that beneath that empty exterior of Hasan Castell that the boy was actually mocking him! Him! Lord Voldemort!

"The stone, Harry Potter. Give me the stone and I won't kill Dumbledore's precious golden boy." Voldemort took a step back and pointed his wand slowly (melodramatically) at the unconscious form of Neville Longbottom.

"Go ahead." Hasan whispered. "Go ahead, you still won't win, Tom." (He vaguely remembered Altair mentioning his name prior that year.) "A death won't make me give you what you seek."

Voldemort was clearly enraged, at the name or the taunt, yet he forced a terrible laugh out of his ghastly lips.

"You would've made an excellent Death Eater." he continued, now only three feet away from the boy. "Avada-"

"I'll destroy the stone." Hasan spoke up lightly. "I'll destroy the stone and you'll be left crippled, feeding off unicorn blood and Quirrell for all of eternity."

This gave the Dark Lord pause. "We could be great you know. Your secret, hidden forever..." He attempted to tempt the boy, be that forbidden fruit dangling just out of reach. Amazingly, what had worked on almost every wizard he had come across did nothing to faze Hasan Castell.

"Why did you kill my parents?" Hasan asked suddenly.

"They were fools to oppose me!" Voldemort leered, his face nearly inches from Hasan's own. He did not care that the question was entirely off topic, but that he could now go ahead and kill the boy, "and now, Harry Potter, you will join them."

A hand made a mad grab for the stone as Voldemort raised his wand, and as skilled as Hasan was, Voldemort was just too fast. His nails clawed at Hasan's fist, but then they were yanked suddenly back. Hasan blinked in surprise, watching as bright red blisters blossomed angrily on his sallow flesh, and Hasan smirked. Oh, this was lovely!

He lunged for the monster's face, the stone slipping out of his hand as his palms clawed desperately at the eyes and mouth.

"Grab him! Grab him! Get the stone!" Voldemort shrieked, but every time Quirrell's body would get up or raise a wand, Hasan was there, somehow burning off his skin.

"Master, I c-cannot hold him!" the professor yelped as the two bodies became entangled in a violent somersault.

"You don't need to." Hasan murmured, and felt a fleeting surge of power. With one last exhausted effort, Hasan grabbed the man's neck and dug his nails in, even as his world was blacking out around him.

But he thought, just as he was entering that realm of imagination, that he heard an agonizing screech, and saw black mist rise up and clear away, leaving the faintest image of obsidian eyes...

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 9: End of Book 1

The headmaster had been called to the Ministry for some conference concerning the Boy-Who-Lived. It seemed the Ministry was swamped with letters about Harry Potter: where he was, why he was, who he was.

Initially, Dumbledore had taken responsibility for the child and placed him under his Aunt and Uncle's care, but as soon as his disappearance came to light, Albus had to let the Minister in on a little secret...the Daily Prophet was more than happy to resume printing nonsense about the Boy-Who-Lived, whether it be Harry or Neville, and did so amiably, with approximately 278 newspapers within the year on him! It seemed that the team (shaky alliance) of Fudge and Dumbledore had hoodwinked the magical community, but not for long! Fudge couldn't possibly put up with this much unrest in his Magical world! He demanded Albus do something, and quick, summoning the headmaster as soon as possible- meaning right after the final exams.

Consequently, that left Minerva and Severus in charge of the school. The two teachers were currently locked in their respective offices, grading one of the millions of the exams. Severus had just ladened Raven with the two Muted Sights potions, and was due back any minute so that he could give the tiny black owl the vial of Animagus Solution.

"The potion is stirred thrice to ensure the separation of substances, not to create a mixture!" Snape growled to himself as he marked up yet another abysmal essay with a red pen. He did enjoy these muggle contraptions, especially when they saved him time. This way, he didn't need to worry about dripping ink onto his precious students' words. Severus continued to mutter the corrections to himself, as well as some dry insults, before a furious pounding began at his door.

What in Merlin's name? Who dared knock on the feared Potion Professor's door? Let alone that obnoxiously!

He flicked his wand and two of the least likely people he ever expected to see, stared back at him in clear distress.

"Draco-!" Severus shouted, knowing immediately that something was very wrong.

"Professor! It's Hasan and Neville! They said to get you if they didn't return in ten minutes! It's been fifteen!..." Hermione continued to rattle frantically on as Draco pleaded with his godfather to come.

Suddenly everything clicked into place: Hasan and those three had gone after the stone. Something must have happened, Quirrell must have made his move! He flicked the essays protected from theft and altercation before urging the two children out and running past them to the third floor corridor.

Oh shit! He couldn't be late! Dumbledore would kill him if something happened to his golden farce! That was...if Snape didn't kill him first for conveniently being out of the building!

Hermione and Draco let him continue forward as they slumped against opposite walls and slowly began to fall asleep...

Severus was panting. Fluffy, plant, keys, chess, troll, potions, well damn. He summoned the potion from within his robe (he always wanted to be prepared) and downed it quickly as his blood turned to ice. He felt the flames lick around him harmlessly, as he ran through to the chamber. Snape had known the mirror was going to be used from the beginning. He did admit to being ignorant of the rest of the staff's chambers and obstacles, though they were all predictable and somewhat obvious to match, but Dumbledore had been particularly clear that the mirror of Erised would be in use. It was quite another thing to find it here, highlighted in the chamber's darkness, with the most terrifying of scenes playing out before him. Neville was on the ground, seemingly unconscious, as none other than Hasan Castell was clawing fiercely at the neck of...Voldemort.

The Dark Lord screeched, awful and terrible, as a black fog was ripped from Quirrell's abused body. Quirrell lay motionless on the ground as the black mist disappeared, moaning in agony with his hands covering his furiously blistered face. Then suddenly, the man went very still, no longer to be able to exist without Voldemort. But Severus paid this no attention.

He was captivated.

Brilliant emerald green eyes flashed sharply on Hasan's wary face. Not jade. Not blank. But beautiful, beautiful emerald. Like Lily's eyes, and yet so different. They locked onto him, triumphant, beaming, heartbroken, embarrassed, proud, thankful, angry, disbelief, joy, relief,...and then they were shut. His eyelashes fluttered delicately on alabaster skin as his body shut down from magical strain. Severus was quick to cast a cushioning charm as his head hit the floor, and then conjured two stretchers for both boys. He levitated Neville onto his, but scooped Hasan into his arms, wondering 'How.'

How was it that for just one moment, a trick of the light perhaps, those dead eyes had sparked with more emotions that Snape thought possible? How was it that they were the exact shade as the killing curse?

Why had he seen them? Had he seen them?

Severus levitated the stretchers to follow behind him as he ascended the chamber steps. He passed out the way he came, and gently roused Draco and Miss Granger to follow him to the Infirmary.

They had been sleepy, but their excitement and agitation had returned once their eyes laid on the stretchers. Draco went to Hasan first, an unfathomable expression on his face, as Hermione likewise went to see her housemate.

The three walked in silence to Poppy's Hospital Wing, and the two boys remained as unconscious as ever.

At the wards alerting her that someone had just entered, Poppy got up tiredly, exited her office, and shouted, "What is- Oh my! Severus, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

To be perfectly honest, Severus himself was unsure...

.oOo.

Albus had returned exactly three hours later, and then had remained in his office until he was alerted of the boys' return to consciousness, which was three days later. He wasn't so concerned about Hasan as he was Neville, in fact, he didn't even ask about the other's health progress. Yes, he knew Hasan Castell's name. How could he not when the boy had been praised nonstop by McGonagall?

"Oh, Neville!" Albus cried, striding authoritatively into the hospital wing. He wore sweeping magenta robes and his long grey beard was tied near the bottom with a pink ribbon. "I've been so worried about you! How did you know to go after him? How are you feeling? Voldemort has fled a second time! How did you defeat him?"

Albus invited himself down in the white chair beside Neville's bed, peering proudly at his golden boy. Severus and Minerva followed behind, consciously hiding their disgust behind their naturally stern features. Hermione and Neville had already returned to their dormitories and had been in to check on the two unconscious boys earlier. Now however, they were packing and trying to fend off curious students who had somehow heard that they were involved. Apparently the ghosts and portraits had been busy spreading around the gossip, and by the third day nearly everyone knew that the Voldemort-Quirrell hybrid had tried to steal the philosopher's stone.

Severus' lip curled up in dry amusement as he took in Neville's bewildered and uncomfortable appearance when he tried to scoot away from the headmaster, but didn't have the courage to offend him. Severus tore his eyes away and strode discreetly over to Hasan who appeared to be asleep, but Snape's practiced eye told him otherwise.

"I know you're awake." Severus murmured, looming ominously over the bed.

Hasan bit his lip, in an endearing way (Snape was reluctant to admit,) before cracking open his pale jade eyes. Something in Snape's heart fell then. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but...surely not emerald. That would have been ludicrous...

"Hello, Professor Snape." Hasan said presently, his mouth barely moving as the words floated.

"Hello, Hasan." Severus whispered. "I'd like to ask you a few questions." In actuality, Severus wanted to strangle the little urchin and demand what the hell had spurred him to do something like that, but Albus was within earshot and would most definitely not miss the manhandling of a student.

"Are you-?" Hasan asked lightly. Snape mentally tacked on a '-going to' to the sentence.

"Yes. What happened?" Severus demanded as gently as he could.

Hasan tilted his head, "I believe in quid pro quo...could you be a bit more specific?"

Severus fought hard not to bang his head against a nearby wall. He could very easily demand that the miserable boy answer him because he was his teacher, but Severus was a Slytherin and knew that the best answers came from willing (or drugged) interrogation subjects.

"Alright, Mr. Castell." Severus sighed heavily, "What would you like to know?"

"Is that your question?" Hasan wondered.

Oh, Salazar! Severus moaned inwardly.

"No, my first question is: Who was really on the back of Quirrell's head?"

"Hm, well I suppose it doesn't matter anyway since my question and your question cancelled out..."

"What are you babbling about?" Snape asked sharply.

"Even numbers, Professor! Whether the first two questions counted or not shouldn't matter because it would have still just been your turn."

"-Just answer the question!" Snape snapped.

"The Dark Lord." Hasan answered simply with a shrug.

Snape hesitated. (He didn't even register the use of His name because he was so worried about the confirmation.)

"Did he...talk to you?"

Snape knew that the Dark Lord was a seducer and worried genuinely for Hasan's young (and therefore impressionable) mind. Men greater than him had fallen, and Snape knew firsthand how tempting the Dark Lord's offers could be. Yeah, just a lifetime of pain and servitude...

"That's two questions. My turn!" Hasan protested with a slight smile. Severus sighed and nodded. "After we take the Animagus Potion, is there anything else we need to do to complete the transformation?"

Did the boy not know how to stay on topic?

"Practice. And make sure you take them in a large and open space." Severus instructed seriously. "How did you receive the stone?"

"Neville threw it." Severus arched an eyebrow, and Hasan smiled sheepishly, "I am unsure...but I believe that the mirror gave Neville the stone. He was fidgeting violently but something in the mirror made him freeze. The Dark Lord lunged at him...I caught it."

Hm, that was fascinating. Not the stone so much- he knew it must have been either one of the boys- but that a simple physical indication made the Castell heir elaborate. Hm, he'd have to try it again!

Hasan cleared his throat. "Is the Dark Lord back?"

Snape twisted his lips, "Yes."

"Oh." Poor Neville...well, if they had to go through that a few more times it wouldn't be so bad. Just...unbearably troublesome.

"Indeed. Who is your mother?"

Hasan blinked at the curveball. Severus smirked: he wasn't the only one that could stray off topic.

Hasan frowned at his hands twisting in the infirmary sheets. Should he trust Professor Snape?...he thought quickly for a second: if he said Lily Potter, then his identity would not be hard to find. Then again, if he said Lily Potter, he might think, oh Merlin, that Altair and Lily (shudder)...he didn't know why the thought was so repulsive, but it just was. The last option was to say he didn't know and that he was adopted...but would this give Snape the clues he needed to piece together Harry Potter and Hasan Castell? The adoption? The orphanage? The disappearance?

"I am unsure...I am adopted." said Hasan slowly. Snape arched his eyebrow again, hoping for an elaboration, and Hasan recognized how one could be manipulated by body language... But there really wasn't much else he could say! "Altair didn't...have me." Hasan finished lamely. "But I am his...son."

"Why hesitate?" Snape prodded.

Hasan smiled softly. "Not your turn, Professor. What do you see in the mirror of Erised?"

Severus' breath hitched in his throat.

"I've got all the information I need." Hasan smiled with a tilt of his head.

Oh, so that's how he wanted to play. This was Hasan's way of warning 'too close,' that he could very well back out now if Severus didn't tread very softly.

"Very well, Mr. Castell...Hasan." Severus whispered as he got up. "Make sure you do not forget Raven."

Hasan beamed with an eager nod, and the two simultaneously turned their attention to Neville.

"-foolish! Are you alright?" Minerva was fretting over the bed.

"Yes, Professor." Neville said uneasily, glancing over at the many gifts left at his bed with a look of disgust and horror.

"Well good." Minerva locked Albus in a stern gaze. "I hope this doesn't become a regular occurrence."

With that, she glanced at Snape, and the two departed. Albus winked at Neville, gave a cursory wave to Hasan and exited the room.

"Hasan?" Neville wondered aloud when the footsteps had ebbed away. "Did you see the Daily Prophet yet?" (Hasan shook his head.) "We're in deep trouble," Neville groaned, holding up the paper. "Dumbledore released part of the prophecy and..., well, I'll just read it: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. We don't need hope, we need Harry Potter! It's him the prophecy's referring to!" Neville said in a panic. He ripped the newspaper down the middle and started brushing back his hair.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Hasan said apathetically, though he was already thinking of the prophecy and where he could hear the rest.

Neville sighed. "Dumbledore also sent the invisibility cloak; he told me...It belonged to James Potter. I feel disgusting! L-like I stole! Harry doesn't have anything from his parents and here I am-!" Neville choked weakly.

"Neville, listen to me. Maybe Harry doesn't want the cloak because he doesn't remember his parents. I wouldn't waste emotion over it."

There was a long pause before Neville said,-

"I envy you, Hasan."

.oOo.

The students had piled into the Hogwarts Express with their familiars, trunks, and homework. Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Lavender made up one compartment, while Hasan, Draco, Tracey, Daphne, and Theo made up the other. Neville had no problem, however, flitting from one to the other under the pretense of bathroom breaks. Despite being unconscious nearly days before, Neville and his Gran has somehow managed to whip up a birthday party for the end of July. Neville ran around telling his friends all the details, and promised to owl people later with invitations and portkeys if needed. All of the Weasley's still in school, including Ginevra (Ron's little sister), were invited, as was some other friend of Neville's that was yet to come to school. Even some of the Slytherins were invited such as Theo and Tracey, so that Draco wouldn't be too bored. Really, Neville's Gran just wanted to forge connections. Her grandson was the Boy-Who-Lived! She was just so proud!

The train groaned to a slow stop at King's Cross Station at approximately two in the afternoon. Hasan's wizard's robes had again reverted to his usual black, gray, and white attire, with his brunette hair in a Dutch crown braid falling elegantly down his back. Daphne had simply raved about his hair for a good ten minutes, and Tracey attended to Draco's own ego by making comments about his grey eyes.

Hasan and Draco hopped off the train together, and were immediately greeted by a beautiful blonde-haired witch. From the front, Hasan could admire her regal visage, graceful sky blue eyes and thin pink lips that pulled back to reveal stunning white teeth.

"Hello, mother!" Draco drawled sweetly as she scooped him up in a tight embrace.

"Oh, Dragon! I've heard such things through the Ministry! They say you and your companions saw the Dark Lord!"

"They're just rumors, mother!" Draco said trying to disentangle himself from her arms. Draco was actually not so sure what had happened in the last and final chamber. Neville wouldn't speak and Hasan would only tell him that Quirrell was an idiot. The rest of the school learned bits and pieces of the truth from the rumor mill, but at this point, Narcissa Malfoy probably knew more than him.

"Oh, and who is this?" Narcissa's voice turned suddenly sharp as she caught sight of Hasan. Her keen eyes took in his pleasantly blank face, dull jade eyes, and braided brunette hair and her expression melted. "Oh! You must be Mr. Castell!" Narcissa gushed, releasing Draco to hug this other boy. Hasan stiffened into the hug, not entirely understanding what was going on. He supposed it had something to do with the dagger he held in his sleeve, or perhaps it was because her eyes had widened when she registered the name 'Castell'. Logically, this witch must have known Altair if Lucius did, which meant she probably was startled at the lack of semblance between them (save for the hair).

"Hello, Lady Malfoy." Hasan said, not sure if it would be offensive to choose Mrs. off the title rack. She was wizarding nobility (despite the dissolution of the nobles) and it was better to be safe than sorry!

"Narcissa is fine dear." the woman told him kindly, pulling away to study his face intently. "You're as good as family now, Hasan Castell. The dagger ties you to our family."

Well wouldn't that have been nice to place on the Christmas card! Draco's lack of detail really irritated him sometimes. Looking over Narcissa's shoulder, Hasan could see Draco turning around, looking for the Malfoy patriarch.

"Mother, where's father?"

Her stance seemed to tighten as she righted herself and met Draco's silver eyes.

"He's a little unwell."

.oOo.

That was the understatement of the century. Lucius Malfoy was more than a 'little' unwell. Currently isolated in his private chambers (he slept separately from Narcissa), he summoned Dobby to bring him some ginger snaps and apples thinly sliced, and had them placed on his large and unbelievably cluttered desk.

"Master Lucius is wanting Dobby to be bringing him anything else, sir?" the house-elf squeaked, floppy ears hanging on either side of his bowed head.

"No, leave me, dammit!" Lucius screamed, slamming his fist on the table. The cookies rattled on the plate and Dobby vanished with an odd look on his face. He hadn't been punished, just yelled at like usual...this was so odd. Master must really be sick...

Back in the bedchamber, Lucius was running his hands through his thin blonde hair, sighing out pitifully as he squeezed his eyes shut. He snapped them back open a minute later, fierce silver scanning the mess of letters and documents in front of him. His dragon hide boots slapped the cold marble floor sharply as he drew himself up in his chair. Letters...the ones nearest to him were from Draco, and magical copies of the ones he sent himself over the course of the year. The entire correspondence was written out in alternating red and black ink over a thick sheet of parchment, and the words popped out at him now, clearly as if someone had hammered them into his brain. He picked it up and read aloud:

"...September 2nd: Father, he's weird. I don't understand why you want me to follow him. He's boring and is friends with an awful mudblood!...but he got sorted into Slytherin...September 12th: I can't believe him! He nearly broke my shoulder! I want him expelled, father!...October 31st: Wait till you hear this, Neville Longbottom's the Boy-Who-Lived! Have you heard anything more ridicules? He was crying in the bathroom (again) and Hasan and that muggleborn Granger dragged me along to save him...November 17th: He shows absolutely no emotion! It's like he's a doll or something! But he's not that bad. He and the muggleborn study together- we make the top three of our year- and he's friends with most of the house. He's got a vocabulary to rival Snape's...December 1st: He's alright. I think I'm beginning to understand why I'm following him. He's always levelheaded and no one ever picks on him- but mostly because no one really notices him. Even Dumbledore who's constantly watching Longbottom's movements...December 2nd: Hasan's a friend...December 3rd: Hasan and Neville taught me to identify poisonous odors...December 4th: The Weasley kid's a git. I hope he gets expelled. I don't know why I put up with him, but sometimes he's with Hasan because of Hermione...December 5th: I want to get him something special for Christmas. I'm still spying, rest assured, but I want to find something unique...(Many entries pertaining to the same topic later) December 20th: Please! I'll do anything! I'll beat Hermione in every class, I promise! Just, I really want to have something of our own! He's practically a brother, why not make it official?...December 21st: I'm not an ignoramus! I know it's not adoption, but I want him to belong sentimentally...December 22nd: Please! Please! Please! I promise I won't get into any more detentions!...December 23rd: FATHER! ARE YOU GOING TO OR NOT?...December 24th: Father, I know this is a very mature decision and I'm only eleven but if you could please reconsider? Hasan's my best friend, my first true one, and he's the model Slytherin! He only speaks when needed and gives just the right words! Father! I swear he's worth it!...Thank you, father, I won't disappoint."

Lucius rested his fingers on his temple and sighed. How was it that Hasan Castell managed to turn this entire mission on him? One minute the prey, the next, family! It was worth it, he supposed, for Draco had stayed true to his word. But that was hardly what was pressing so heavily on his mind.

What his true sickness was, the stem of all his issues, was himself. He magicked Draco's letters into a drawer, before turning his attention on the next few. His marriage contract with Narcissa, Draco's birth certificate, his Hogwarts diploma,...Tom Riddle's diary. Something wasn't adding up, something wasn't right! He graduated Hogwarts in 1972, he married Narcissa in 1979, and she had given birth to Draco in 1980...what had happened in the in-between? Where were those years of his life?

Daily Prophet clippings, newspaper articles. The rise of Lord Voldemort around the year 1946, so he must have been within the ranks of Voldemort's followers then! So why was it, that from 1972 to 1979 Lucius could not recall a single thing about the Death Eaters or Voldemort for seven whole elusive years? He glanced at the diary of Tom Riddle again, and remembered clearly when the Dark Lord had gifted it to him a little over ten years ago, before his fall. But there was also a niggling, a niggling of something he had forgotten that had to do with a man named Tom Riddle and a diary he had crea-no- written. Why had he thought created? He flipped the journal open again, seeing nothing but blank pages- Salazar! He hadn't even touched the diary in ten years!

So why was it now that he felt a need to revisit it? Revisit all of it? He had a lovely wife, and an intelligent son and heir. Why disturb that? He was still in favor with the light, and in the favor of the dark, why disturb that? He had money! He had everything!

So why?

A flash of thick brown hair, beautiful blue eyes...no! He winced and banged his desk again before ripping a gingersnap in two. It was gone! It was all gone. He hadn't mentioned it to Narcissa-these, these flashes- because there was no need to worry her. He trusted no one else but...he was growing desperate. Things couldn't continue on like this. It was a perfect puzzle, and somehow, Hasan Castell, Draco's new friend was involved. Maybe not Hasan specifically, but...but another. His grandfather? No, that didn't make sense. His father?

That man in Diagon Alley with snow white hair and easy going disposition even in a state of panic. Castell. Something Castell. And he was sure of it, without a hint of a doubt, that this Castell was the one to erase his memories...

.oOo.

"Lucius?" Narcissa's sweet voice flitted into his chambers. "Lucius, darling?"

The Malfoy lord groaned and vanished the full plate of gingersnaps and apples with a wave of his wand.

"Father?" Draco's voice joined the mix, sounding suddenly so very mature. Gone was the whine of his little one, replaced by the coolness of a Slytherin's tone. Lucius glanced at his work turbulently (lovingly and yet with such loathing) and wrapped it up neatly with another wave of his wand.

"Coming, 'Cissa, Draco!" Lucius called as he descended the millions of stairs. As Draco came into view, he noticed a hint of suspicion in his eyes and his gaze lingered on the bags beneath his father's eyes. There really was no use disillusioning the symptom when the condition was palpable.

"Oh, Lucius..." Narcissa sighed and gave him a hug, "Your father's been very tired recently. It's just been so hard at the Ministry getting information from anyone these days!"

Draco glanced warily up at his father. "I regret that you couldn't meet Hasan." he said evenly, in a way that imitated Hasan and yet was all his own. "But the Boy-Who-Lived-to-get-all-the-credit is throwing a party next month at the Longbottom Estate. I'm sure you could meet him then."

Lucius froze. He could meet him.

"The Weasley's will be there too." Draco sneered, disgust evident in his voice. "The one's in school anyway."

"The Weasley's?" Narcissa hissed sharply. She knew of the bitter hatred between the Weasley's and the Malfoy's and wasn't so sure inviting Lucius to drop him off would be as conducive to his health as she had hoped.

"Oh, no matter, Narcissa." Lucius said, his usual drawl trickling back into his voice, "I'm sure it will be worth Draco's while." His grey eyes glinted as he thought of the diary and the many Weasley's that might just stumble upon it. Narcissa was too relieved to hear his normal self returning to pay much attention to Lucius' intentions.

Draco was just too absorbed in mentally bashing Dumbledore and his golden boy.

"Ah! It's a relief to have you back, Lucius. Now, why don't I set Dobby on dinner and Draco can tell us all about his new friends at Hogwarts!"

.oOo.

Altair was waiting at King's Cross station under the new and improved disguise of an aging woman. Not as creative as Snape, but the greasy man would just have to live with it. For the past few months, Altair's only connection to the Wizarding World was through Snape's acidulous comments that accompanied every potion, and of course, the Daily Prophet. Poor Raven was exhausted every time she arrived, and Altair would have to let her rest for a day or so before sending the creature back. He had missed Hasan terribly and had often stayed awake with Tina at night, reminiscing his own wonderful years at Hogwarts. But Altair Castell was used to being alone, and he was happy above all else that Hasan would be alive, and safe and well...

"Urgh!" Altair groaned as another wave of pain hit the back of his head. Damn ability! He had purposely chosen to postpone taking Snape's solution so that he could see Hasan's bright emerald aura once again. It really was a pretty color, but ominous, so very very ominous that it was the exact shade of the Avada Kedavra...Still, the abundant magical energy at the station pounding down on his brain would all be worth it once he reunited with his child!

Ah! There he was, pulsing green glow around him. His braid was in a fancy crown, and his black blazer was back on his shoulders. But...there was a pulse of silver around it, like a protective ward... Something was definitely wrong. What had happened at Hogwarts? He watched as Lucius junior led Hasan to lovely Narcissa, and watched in awe as Narcissa not only embraced Draco, but his own son as well! The silver became stronger, not threatening, but comforting, joining the silver auras of the Malfoy's to his. How unusual! Altair watched as the three exchanged pleasantries, before the Malfoy's left, and a group of red heads, plus that Longbottom boy, and Hermione from Diagon Alley, bombarded Hasan with parting hugs. Soon, these friends too had passed on, and Hasan was left standing by himself. Altair roused himself to stand, and walked with more agility than a woman in their nineties would have (so much for his disguise). Hasan noticed immediately and turned towards him with a broad, radiant smile.

"Hello, dad."

"Hello, Hasan." Altair said, and reached to grab his trunk, when a little head poked out of his sleeve.

:Greetingssss, little one.: Tina hissed happily.

"It's like she's talking to you!" Altair exclaimed humorously, before shrinking the trunk and placing it in his pocket. "Imagine, a boy that can talk to snakes!"

Hasan smiled too. Yes, he could just imagine.

The two walked out of the station, down the road, and into a dirty little alleyway before Altair took down his disguise and apparated them safely to the Estate.

"You should really work on your disguises more." Hasan laughed dryly as he stepped back into the manor. Ah! It just smelled like home! He unlocked Raven's cage and the little bird hopped free, scuttering to where she knew the owl treats were hidden.

"What? I can't pass as a woman? Thanks, Hasan." Altair grumbled, and flung Hasan's trunk into his room.

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm really not." Hasan said. "Don't be offended. I like you as a man."

Altair chuckled deeply. "Yeah me too."

Over a dinner of coq au vin, Hasan quickly explained the questions Altair had gathered about the newspaper articles. Was Neville really the Boy-Who-Lived? Why did they think it was Harry Potter? Where was Harry Potter? Who won the house cup? Who were Hasan's friends?

They were all fairly easy to answer: Yes, Neville really was the Boy-Who-Lived, technically, he was a boy that lived, but details, details, it wasn't exactly a descriptive epitaph. The second Hasan had no answer to, and as for the third, Hasan answered 'hiding'. There was no way in hell he was going to volunteer himself up for Neville's job! Who won the house cup? Slytherin, obviously, what with Neville and Ron losing points for Gryffindor every Potions' class, there was never really any doubt. And then the last: friends.

"I've met a few people who I've grown close to." Hasan said, not elaborating on what close meant, or how close.

"Do go on!" Altair said eagerly.

"I've met Hermione first, the muggleborn witch. Then Neville the Boy-Who-Lived, as well as Draco Malfoy."

"Ah, so you have befriended young Draco." Altair sighed.

"Why? Was it that obvious? I certainly didn't know the pompous Slytherin would turn out pretty decent."

"But you knew from the start that you wanted to have him as a friend, someone who would trust you, non?" For someone who was supposed to be dead and going into King's Cross disguised as an agile old lady, Altair certainly had his moments.

"I really didn't know anything." Hasan said stubbornly. "And as far as being a complete ignoramus goes, how could you not tell me that Professor Snape makes your potions?"

"Oh, he told you, did he?" Altair said. Hasan continued to glare. "Well, to be honest, I wanted you to make your own opinions about him. Without me, you know? Snape is a many faceted being, just like all of us I'm sure, but life hasn't been kind to him. I like him because he makes me headache relief potions, but suppose he didn't. Would I like him as much then? Also, I didn't want to sway your sorting. Did you know that twenty percent of students request houses of the sorting hat? Interesting, I know!..." Altair babbled.

Hasan stabbed some more mushrooms and chewed thoughtfully. He had like Professor Snape despite how he bullied Neville in the beginning. More so even than Professor McGonagall who had actually helped him a lot in his Transfiguration (and unknowingly Animagi) studies. It was good to know that Altair like the dour Potions Master too.

Altair was still talking about house statistics when he suddenly perked up.

"Hasan, I've got something to show you. You must have heard the blood prejudices firsthand, not only being friends with that muggleborn, but also being surrounded by Slytherins."

This piqued Hasan's interest. Where was he going with this?

"You have proof that blood is really just a myth?" Hasan asked tonelessly.

"As a matter of fact," Altair said, summoning a small black book with a wave of his wand, "I do."

Well this was a first. Finally some proof to his father's usual gossip.

"What is it? Who wrote it? When was it written?"

Altair cleared the kitchen table off with another flick of his wand, and the tome fell softly on the mahogany.

"This is an independent study written in my second year out of Hogwarts." he blew the dust off the cover and opened it reverently, careful not to so much as bend the thin parchment. "The data collected was based on a magical reservoir of sorts that a single person could contain. People from all walks of life sent in samples of their blood, everyone from students to Ministry officials to squibs, under the impression of medical research or other." Altair sighed contentedly as he pointed to a chart. "It shows how purebloods, halfbloods, and muggleborns have the same amount of potential power, their being's entire magical source. But their easy energy, the magic that flowed for everyday spells, had a different flavoring if you will. The halfbloods and muggleborns had a type of magic that I can only describe as new. Now I see it as red to yellow, depending on their genetics. If only I had had my power then. Ironic how these things come up, yes?"

Hasan inched around the table to better see the study, and was startled to find that the entire book was handwritten...Altair nodded proudly and ran his fingers down the yellowing parchment.

"Yes, it took one entire year to create. But as I was saying, purebloods are like dying flowers. They believe themselves to be high and mighty, but their colors fade each generation. They start off black, a healthy rich black, but it soon flows to dark gray, and the silver, and eventually white."

Hasan thought of Gandalf the Gray, and then Gandalf the White...it made sense, in a way. Perhaps Tolkien was a wizard with Altair's condition?

"What color are the Malfoy's?" Hasan enquired softly.

"Grey, or silver if you prefer." Altair said in surprise. "And before you ask, Dumbledore's white, the Dark Lord' sanguine, (the hypocritical bastard) and Snape's a lovely Gryffindor gold." Altair laughed.

Hasan nodded with a soft smile and flipped the book back to the smooth black cover. A.D.C & L.A.M were imprinted in bold silver font.

"And me?" Hasan asked quietly, tracing the initials with his fingers. He could feel Altair's eyes following them, and Hasan did not ask.

"And you, my son, are the most exquisite hue I've ever seen. But it's different now..."

"How?"

"It's, well it's got this silver mist around it. Not harmful, just, kind of there. I've never seen anything like it." Altair said slowly.

"Oh," Hasan said, immediately making the connection. "And the rest of me?

"Emerald, of course." Altair raised his fingers and tilted Hasan's chin up just slightly. "And yet, your eyes are jade. Imagine if your eyes were emerald...but pray tell. What happened at Hogwarts?"

Hasan bit his lip and slowly drew the knife out of his pocket. The emeralds glinted in the firelight, and the polished silver gleamed. Hasan looked up with concern when his father had yet to say anything, but instead, Altair was stock still. A deer in headlights, staring at the dagger.

"You didn't seem to mention how close you were to Draco." Altair finally whispered.

"We're just friends." Hasan said with a frown. "His mother said I'm part of their family now. What's wrong? Should I give it back?"

Draco hadn't given him a cursed artifact, had he?

"No. It'll do you good. It's protective by nature." Altair said, but inside he was moaning in the fields of nostalgia. "Keep it safe, Hasan. It's the last."

Hasan went to bed with Tina and Raven after a quick dessert of crêpes. But the dagger remained on the table, and Altair stared at it a long time. Remembering something very far away.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 10: Summer Hols

July 30th, 1992

"Neville!" Augusta screamed from the second floor as she slipped on her golden hoop earrings, "Get the door! I see that muggleborn friend of yours."

Neville, who was fretting nervously in the threshold immediately opened the door to the lovely summer air and waved sheepishly at Hermione.

She grinned and waved the portkey and gift in her hand as she approached in a knee-length lilac dress. Always punctual- it was only 2pm.

"Happy Birthday, Neville!" Hermione squealed, wrapping the boy in a politely loose hug. She proffered a rectangular purple bag and Neville took it with a nod of thanks, wondering what was beneath all that tissue paper. "You look dapper!" Hermione said, taking in the gray suit his Gran had forced to wear.

"Oh, thanks-"

"Is anyone else here?"

Neville smiled, "Er, no. But I wouldn't worry about it."

Suddenly, two more apparated onto the scene, landing in the field in the distance. The Longbottom Estate was fairly large, with two stories of expansive floors and a sizable yard in every direction.

"Oh look! It's Theo and Tracey!" Hermione cried, shaking Neville from his reverie. Tracey advanced in kitten heels and a soft blue blouse, with a black pleated skirt. But Hermione was already gazing at Theo. He had sprouted up over the summer and now came an inch or two above Hermione. He caught her gaze and smiled, wearing a grey t-shirt with black hemming and tan trousers. They each held a little bag which they promptly gave to Neville at the door.

"Neville, Happy Birthday." Tracey said formally, sticking her hand out. She didn't really know Neville that well, but knew that Draco was supposed to come later.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday." Theo said, but then winked at Hermione. She wasn't sure what to do. Wink back? Pretend she didn't see it? Her face did the talking for her by turning a lovely shade of tomato.

"So, um, welcome to my home, the Longbottom Estate." He led them into the threshold, a collection of antique paintings lining the walls, and then forward into the living room. To the right there was the dining room, and then the kitchen was beyond the dining room. The hall directly straight contained the staircase, as well as the loo, storage room, and Augusta's office.

The floors were wide and polished dark oak wood, as were the walls. The taste in décor was very artful: controlled, yet unique, with lots of grays, purples, golds, and reds.

"Very nice." Tracey said and peered into the kitchen where the knives were enchanted to chop some peaches, cantaloupe, watermelon, and dirigible plum fruit.

"Thanks, Tracey." Neville said.

"Neville! The door!" Augusta's voice came again.

Neville looked sheepishly at his friend's and acquaintances' surprised faces and offered them to sit on the light purple leather couches with a red wool blanket thrown over the top with golden thread woven within.

Theo and Tracey decided to sit together, and Hermione was left to stand awkwardly alone.

"Come on, Hermione." Theo said kindly, patting the seat beside him.

"Oh." Hermione hurried to the offered seat and then sat ramrod straight. Tracey chuckled and something told her that these two Slytherins were safe at least.

Neville was happy to be away from his guests for a bit. Perhaps they could make friends? His face was burning up and he wasn't sure why. He saw these kids everyday at school! Imagine, a simple thing as dressing up and arriving at one's house, and sitting in one's living room could make a bloke nervous.

He sighed and opened the bright red door with a gold handle and protective panel at the bottom (for scuffing shoes). Far out into the field he spotted not one, but a herd of red heads.

Fred and George Weasley led the proceedings with scarlet sparklers, dressed in stripped mahogany and orange sweaters and jeans. Merlin! How was he supposed to tell them apart?

Behind them came Ron, wearing a white shirt with a red hem, and faded jeans that frayed at the bottom. He stared up at the manor in awe, not even hiding the fact that he was gobsmacked. And even further...was the youngest Weasley, whose large eyes fixed upon him with her mouth slightly hanging open. Ginevra donned a frilly pink blouse and a plain gray skirt and large pink bow headband.

"Hey Neville!" Fred cried.

"Happy Birthday!" said George.

"See, we didn't-"

"Know what to get-"

"You, but hopefully-"

"With us three-"

"You'll find something-"

"That you can like-"

"Or love-"

They extinguished the sparklers as they made it to the doormat, and Ron peeked out between them.

"Happy Birthday, mate! Wow, is that your house? This is my little sister, Ginny." Ron said in a rush, still staring past Neville and into the richly decorated foyer.

"Oh-!" Ginny gasped as if not realizing they were at the door already. "Um, or Ginevra if you like, really." Her cheeks began to flame and the twins had to conceal their chuckles with a silencing charm.

"Gin-"

"Evra-!" They gasped.

"Oh, she's in it-"

"Good-!"

They cancelled the spell and Ron looked oddly between them. Ginny herself shot them a dirty look before stepping to the front and shaking the boy's clammy hands.

"Hello, Neville. They tell me you're the Boy-Who-Lived." Ginny said sweetly. "But you can be yourself around me, you know."

She handed him a handful of gifts that Neville had to cradle with both arms.

"Um, just go right ahead. Hermione, Tracey, and Theo are already here-"

Ginny swept past him leaving flowery perfume in her wake, and Fred and George chortled mercilessly.

"Don't mind her, Neville." Ron said, obviously not picking up what was really going on. "She's been talking about you nonstop. You'd think she'd stop after Harry..."

"Yeah, Neville, if she gets out of hand-"

"Just leave her-"

"To us-!" Fred finished with a clap.

"Er, thanks guys. Just follow me, I guess." Neville dumped the presents on the crystal cut table and reentered the salon.

Hermione, Theo, and Tracey sat on the edge of one couch, while Ginny sat stubbornly on the other. The rest of the red heads flocked to her, of course, and Neville sighed in relief when a (menial) conversation on quidditch ensued.

The fruit was cut and Neville set the platter out onto the glass topped coffee-table as Mrs. Augusta Longbottom descended proudly down the stairs. A stuffed vulture lay on her black hat, and her favorite bright red robes (to match her bright red handbag) were drawn about her with large golden buttons.

"Gran!" Neville cried as the guests turned to watch the thin and bony woman.

"Ah. Let me guess-" she said flatly, "-the Weasley's, the Slytherins, and the muggleborn."

"Gran!"

"Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, girl." Neville's gran continued in that authoritative voice. "Just a fact. It's wonderful that you can all be Neville's friends."

Her beady eyes that swept the room with distaste told differently. "Who are we missing?"

"Hasan, Draco, and-"

"Oh yes, and that blond child... Well how about we get those board games out while we wait?" Augusta said briskly, summoning Exploding Snap, wizard chess, Gobstones, and then she hummed. "You could get the broomsticks too if you want."

Ron's face lit up. "Really? I mean, er,..."

"Ronnikins-" George sang.

"Mind your manners!"

"Er, yeah, so should we wait for Hasan and Draco?" Neville asked the crowd.

"Well, I'm fine right where I am." Theo smirked, with a wink towards Hermione.

Tracey rolled her eyes, "Whatever is best for you, Birthday Boy."

"Er, right."

Ron deflated as the group began a large tournament of Exploding Snap. Neville had taken a seat next to Ginny, who was rather adamant that Neville sit by her. Augusta was busy in the kitchen, fixing the cake and making sure the icing was just right. She hardly knew any of Neville's new friends, but she did know that Dumbledore wanted him to invite the Weasley's. Really, Augusta saw nothing wrong with the redheads, but thought it odd that Dumbledore had made such a request. But Augusta was just so proud! Her Neville wasn't a squib! He was actually a celebrity! Harry Potter was still hailed as the only one to survive the killing curse, but her Neville was the one the prophecy referred to! The Daily Prophet said so and Dumbledore had even gotten the prophecy at the Ministry relabeled. Her son, Frank, and his wife, Alice, would have been so happy right now!

She wiped a tear from her eye and beamed down at the photo of Frank, Alice, and Neville. She wanted nothing more than to raise Neville to be the very best he could.

.oOo.

Draco sat on the couch, wearing a gray button-down shirt with black pants. He clutched Hasan's letter in one hand, and Neville's invitation, gift, and portkey in the other. It was about time Hasan mentioned the potion! After school, Hasan had received four doses of the Animagus potion, but Draco had admittedly not finished the preparation. To transform into another being while keeping your mind was so mechanically complicated that Draco was thankful Hasan had been there to help him. Plus, his godfather had visited a few times over the summer to assist him, before aiding his father on some project or other. So it was on July 30th, that Draco was finally ready to receive his Christmas gift.

"Father!" Draco yelled for the umpteenth time. Honestly, what was the man doing up there? Picking clothes? Dressing? Urgh! He was already ten minutes late! "Mother!"

"Give us a moment, Dragon!" Narcissa called from upstairs. A moment? He was late! Draco continued to brood over fashion conscious fathers before the man finally deigned to gift him with his presence.

Lucius was dressed in his usual black cloak as he descended the stairs with Narcissa on his arm. Narcissa wore a dark blue pea coat over a long gray dress, the couple together looking rather posh. And they were only the escort. Really? Did it take that much time to throw that together? Draco thought with a huff.

"The portkey, Draco." Lucius demanded, holding out his hand. Draco leapt off the couch and the three touched the activated portkey before whirling away to somewhere...

.oOo.

Hasan looked at the glass vials, wondering if Neville would find it as humorous as him that Professor Snape had inadvertently gifted him with Animagus abilities...perhaps he'd just tell him later then so that Neville wouldn't spit it out or anything.

Altair was out at the moment, doing some errands and trusting that Hasan could figure out how to work a portkey for himself. Merlin knew how many Altair himself had used over the years.

It was 2:15 now, and Hasan figured what he was wearing was probably the best he was going to get. He was in a light black jacket, over a white t-shirt and fitted gray jeans. As for his hair, he decided to just let it hang, as it was now to his waist. He had pondered the Blood Book and the Malfoy daggers, but hadn't pressed Altair because it obviously meant something very heavy for him. Hasan left both resting on the salon table, petted Tina good-bye and let Raven have some treats, before activating the portkey with a flick of his wand. Within seconds, he was sucked through a tunnel and spit back out again, landing gracefully on his feet. Longbottom Manor stood up in contrast with the lovely blue sky and Hasan smiled at the golden balloons by the door.

Mrs. Longbottom appeared in the entrance almost immediately and nodded tersely in greeting. It seemed that either no one was here (doubtful) or that Augusta had simply not alerted them of his presence. He continued to stride, taking his time across the large expanse of green, before a thud indicated the arrivals of more guests behind him

Hasan turned slightly, not so much seeing Malfoy as hearing him. 'Ow! Could've warned me!' Hasan wasn't expecting the entire family, and apparently neither was Augusta for she yelled so.

"I wasn't expecting you all to come." Her bright red wardrobe flashed brilliantly in the light as she whipped out her wand protectively and then stowed it rather deliberately in her handbag.

The Malfoy family approached, Draco mumbling in the lead, Lucius staring stonily ahead, and Narcissa smiling sweetly at all the world.

"Hello, Augusta. A pleasure." Narcissa said shortly, with that same saccharine grin. She held out her hand which Augusta shook harshly before turning to Hasan. "Good afternoon, Hasan."

Hasan stared back at her blankly before bowing in proper pureblood fashion.

"Hello."

Draco had stopped his complaints by now and grinned at the emotionless boy.

"Hasan!"

"Hello, Draco."

Augusta glanced at the boys with an unfathomable expression before glaring candidly at Lucius.

"Thank you for escorting him." she said icily.

But Lucius didn't rise to the bait. Actually, he didn't even recognize the bait. He too was occupied with the children. Lucius' pale eyes roved over the young Castell and his hands shook imperceptibly behind his back.

"Where are your parents dear?" Narcissa asked, tugging Lucius to her side.

"Parents weren't invited." Augusta muttered agitatedly.

Hasan tilted his head and let a soft smile seep onto his face.

"I don't know." Hasan replied evenly. This woman was going to have to be a lot more specific! Technically he didn't consider anyone his parents. Altair was classified as an adoptive father, and Lily and James were buried at Godric Hollow. Even then, he had only read that in a book, and books could have typos, misprints, or lies. Really, it was a rather difficult question.

"You live in France, right?" Draco asked.

Hasan nodded. "Yes."

"Then your parents are at home then?" Narcissa probed. Really? He had to go through the home thing again? Well, it didn't matter, did it, if he considered Castell Estate his home. Altair wasn't there anyway.

Lucius, over in his brain, was doing some rapid thinking too. Could he, himself, be so transparent as to ask about his family?

Hasan shook his head to the previous question. Narcissa sighed and looked apologetically at her husband. Lucius too was ready to bang his head against something, hard. It was just so infuriating! The boy was obviously telling the truth! Lucius didn't know exactly what he was searching for within the boy's answers. No, he couldn't lie to himself. Lucius Malfoy needed to know. Needed to know who this man was with brown hair and blue eyes, and knew he had something to do with this boy, Hasan. Severus was surprisingly unhelpful, saying he had never known a man like that in his life. But Lucius had the distinct feeling that Severus was lying. But why was that?

Well, wouldn't that be bloody lovely to know!

"Who takes care of you, b- Hasan?" Lucius demanded in a borderline threatening voice.

And amazingly, wonders of all wonders, Hasan answered.

"My mentor." Hasan's eyes narrowed in a way of saying that he couldn't and would not reveal his name. Narcissa didn't know what crazy project Lucius was working on now, but she certainly knew she didn't want to upset Draco's friend! Least of all in front of Augusta Longbottom! "It seems you're curious, Mr. Malfoy." Hasan observed lightly. "I'll be sure to tell him."

"It's a 'him?'" Lucius blurted. Hasan raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that's really lovely that you have such a good relationship with your...mentor!" Narcissa gushed, steering a frozen Lucius back the way they came. "And have fun, Hasan, Dragon!"

The two apparated away with a 'pop' leaving Draco and Hasan alone with a very confused and irritated Augusta Longbottom.

"Well get in."

.oOo.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore!" McGonagall yelled to the staff. "How could we just condemn a man to death? What proof did we have? What trial?"

"There didn't need to be a trial! There were witnesses!" Albus protested sadly, cowering behind his desk in his chair. "Pettigrew was dead for all we knew..."

"Yes! Exactly how you wish Harry Potter was dead!" Minerva cried. "I know that you're raising that Longbottom boy to be your perfect savior, but Harry isn't dead! I refuse to believe it!"

"Minerva, if we could please stay on topic—?" Snape sneered. "I'm sure we're all just dying to hear about Potter, but there is no way I'm allowing that wolf to teach here!"

"Oh come on, Severus!" Poppy pleaded. "Now that Sirius is free, Remus has come out of hiding! How Pettigrew could have been living as a rat for thirteen years is beyond me! But he was caught going to someone, somewhere yesterday and the best guess is that it was You-Know-Who!"

"Which is why we need Harry Potter!" Minerva roared.

"Which is why we need a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Snape hissed at the same time.

"Minerva, Severus," Albus said plaintively, "Lockhart was a mistake. I admit it now. Now, especially since his farce has been uncovered-"

"Like yours will!" Minerva interrupted.

"Minerva, please!" Albus silenced her with a hand. "Lockhart had been searching for the Potter boy in the Himalayas and had run into a family of Vampires. After his death, investigations were made on the several complaints filed against him and the whole thing was unearthed! As long as those files were hidden, I had no way of knowing-"

"It's called checking up, Albus!" Minerva said bitterly.

"Shh, dear. Let him finish." Poppy chided. "Besides, I want to hear his next great plan to tell Augusta and survive."

"As I was saying, Remus Lupin has always been on the side of the Light, and he's a most able defense instructor. I know how much you want the position, Severus, but Remus will be a much better teacher for the kids than Lockhart!" Albus explained.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I earned the title of Potions Master because I enjoy potions? I have no doubt the wolf can teach the students more than Lockhart. I'm only wondering if he won't change a few before-"

"Severus, that's enough!" Albus ordered. He sighed and stroked his beard. So much had happened during the summer months. So much...Voldemort was back, but hell if Dumbledore could say that. The Ministry was straining to comply with the Longbottom mission as it was! (He suspected that early articles were being written for when the whole plot uncovered itself.)

"No! It's bloody well not enough, Albus! We sentenced Black to death!" Minerva cried out again. "Maybe if you kept a better eye on your students...ALL your students, kids like Tom Riddle, Peter Pettigrew, and Harry Potter wouldn't have fallen through the cracks!"

"How was anyone supposed to know that Tom Riddle would grow up to become Lord Voldemort? I wasn't even headmaster then. Second, I am highly aware of all the animagi in the school! James Potter was a stag! Sirius is a dog!"

Snape tried his best not to snort. Well done, Dumbledore, you've really got your eye on things, haven't you? While the headmaster was defending himself from all sorts of attacks by the mediwitch and the Transfiguration professor, Snape was wondering why Pettigrew had blown his cover. Surely the Dark Lord was not ready to rise once more? Right after the incident with the stone? Severus shuddered at the prospect of a newly revived Dark Lord, and quickly excused himself from the redundant arguments.

Lucius had called him once again and Snape had to be at the Manor in less than ten minutes.

.oOo.

After a wonderfully fun afternoon playing a simplified version of quidditch, in which everyone was a seeker, and the kids were split into two teams, the children retired to the dining room, where Augusta had laid out some hors d'oeuvres. Draco and Hasan were seated side by side, with Neville on Hasan's left. Next to Neville sat Ginny, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Theo, and Tracey next to Draco.

"Wow, Neville! You were a natural!" Ginny gushed, referring to the fact that Neville had managed to stay on his broom.

"A vast improvement." Draco chuckled.

"The same could be said for you." Hasan whispered, and Draco had the sense to look sheepish.

"Oh, it's alright, Draco." Tracey reassured him. "Your first year spunk let us appreciate Hasan more!"

The table laughed quietly, despite Ginny being wholly ignorant, and the twins being privy to a rushed version told by a very emotional Hermione Granger, in the common room later that very day.

"I wish I could have seen it," Neville said with a chuckle. "It seems so out of character for Hasan to be aggressive..." he paused and clamped his mouth shut, "Er, then again."

"You're thinking of the Philosopher's Stone, aren't you?" Theo asked quietly. "If you don't mind, what really happened?"

"Er." Neville said.

"Well, Neville, Hasan, Draco, and myself went up to the third floor corridor and..." Hermione rattled off details that no one could believe she remembered such as the slanting hallways with damp green moss, and the color of the potions, and the size of the chess board. Finally, she got to the stone. "...but then, there was only enough for two of us, you know." She looked helplessly at Neville for aid, who looked at Hasan.

"Well, what happened, Hasan?" Draco asked.

"Neville fought the Dark Lord."

Neville blinked, "What?"

"Oh, man! That's-" Fred said with a gasp.

"Insane, Neville!" George finished, plopping a handful of grapes in his mouth.

"With swords? Did you have a wizard's duel? Did he try and Avada you?" Theo asked in awe.

"They fought with words." Hasan supplied as Neville glubbed like a fish. "The dark lord was charming with his words, though his head was quite ugly."

"I've heard he's got no nose." Fred said.

"Well, he had two this time." Neville giggled nervously. "He was on the back of Quirrell." Neville explained.

George wrinkled his nose. "Well, that explains the god awful smell."

"And that gaudy turban." Tracey said in disgust.

"That could also have been all the time he spent with trolls." Hermione observed eagerly. "He let that one in on Halloween, remember?"

The group continued to chat, when the doorbell sounded richly like chimes.

"Oh!" Neville said and hastily went to get up.

"Please, I'll get it." Hasan spoke up smoothly.

"Oh, um, alright." Neville agreed, sliding back down.

The conversation resumed as Hasan took his time walking to the door. The bell sounded again as he passed the gift table, and the most peculiar feeling came over him. He turned towards the presents, and let his instinct control his body. He was his body's toy, and much as that confused him. His hands reached out, and his eyes landed on the oddest looking book before he realized he was holding it.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." Hasan said before starting. "Voldemort's name is Tom." It seemed too weird to be a coincidence, and then, the name itself was so outlandish that Hasan believed it was a code. Perhaps an anagram? Hasan enjoyed puzzles very much, perhaps he's solve it later.

The bell sounded. Should he take it? It didn't belong, for what idiot got someone a diary already named? And misnamed at that? Neville certainly didn't need to read the horror that was Tom Riddle's innermost thoughts! Then how had it got here- ah! It lay beside Draco's gift, and come to think of it, Lucius had had his hands behind his back...Lucius was dangerous man, a follower of Lord Voldemort, Altair had told him. It fit. It made sense. Almost. Why would the master give his servant his diary? Hasan flicked the book open, eager for answers...blank. Well that was just lovely. That settled it: this was dark.

Hasan had no qualms shrinking the diary and slipping it into his pocket, and then slapping an innocent smile on his face and opening the door.

.oOo.

Malfoy Manor was the same as ever. A small herd of albino peacocks, an ominous gate that could probably lock you in, and a dashing little manor that hosted the Dark Lord's more important meetings. A charming house, indeed.

Severus strode up to the door, cloak billowing behind him, and knocked. The door creaked open of its own accord, and Snape let himself in.

"Lucius? Narcissa?" Snape began to get that panic that he knew something was wrong but was too far away to do much about it. "Lu-"

Suddenly, a young house-elf apparated into the room wearing an old pillowcase.

"Master Snape, sir, they Malfoy's have gone to be taking Draco to his party."

"Ah, yes, the Longbottom party." Snape sneered as he made himself home on the couch. He was easily Lucius' best friend, a man living on the fringes of distinctive black and white, much like Snape. "Thank you, Dobby."

"Oh, yes, Dobby is most welcome to be helping Master Snape, sir." with a snap of his fingers, the house-elf vanished, leaving Snape pleasantly alone in what was practically the most dangerous house in Britain. The suspense only lasted for another minute, for Lucius and Narcissa presently entered the manor, chatting rather loudly.

"-you so interested in Hasan?" Narcissa asked. "You need to tell me, Lucius! I need to know!"

"'Cissa! I don't know! We gave him the dagger! Doesn't that warrant innocent curiosity!"

"You practically interrogated him!"

"You helped!"

"I didn't want you to look like a fool!" Narcissa cried, before catching sight of Severus. He noticed that her blue eyes were moist with worry, and her posture was terribly shaken. "Excuse me." The Malfoy matriarch quickly exited the room, running up the stairs and slamming the door to her chambers. Lucius faced Severus with a scowl.

"You know Hasan Castell. You're his head of house." Lucius said slowly. The bag under his eyes were most prominent now, and his tone was weary.

"Yes, as I am for all the Slytherins."

"Then you must know who his father is." Lucius said, and quickly cast a silencing charm around them. "I don't know why. Narcissa cannot know! But this has got to do with him!"

Snape stared. "I have no clue who the boy's father could be."

"Severus-!"

"Lucius, believe me. The boy has been adopted. The only way I have access to the records is if we alert Dumbledore and we can't have that!"

Lucius sighed deeply. "Why can't I remember the name? I must have gone to school with him, must have been in Slytherin..."

Severus was torn. He could hardly rat out Altair, but seeing Lucius like this was terrible. His hair was in disarray, his face lined with all the wrinkles of his age.

"Perhaps, perhaps you are remembering a man who died..." Severus suggested lightly.

"Died-?" Lucius repeated, head popping up. "Who? Tell me who! Tell me the name!" He was on his feet, eyes flashing wildly before coming to his senses and falling down dejectedly.

Snape winced. "Altair Castell."

"Altair..." Lucius trailed off, eyes going misty...he was searching, searching his memory for what, he could not recall.

"He was in your year...he had brown hair and blue eyes."

Lucius gaped and sagged in his chair. "You bastard. You knew. You knew from the moment I opened my mouth, didn't you?"

"He's dead!" Severus protested sharply. "He's absolutely dead! The Dark Lord killed him when he refused his service!"

"What year? What year?" Lucius demanded, wringing out his hands in a decidedly unMalfoylike fashion.

"The same year, goddammit, Lucius!" Severus shouted. "It's just a coincidence!" Shit! Shit! Shit!

"Severus! Seven whole years of my life were ripped from me! I can't recall a single thing! If he's truly dead, I've no hope to recover them! Do you understand me? I've finally figured out why I can't remember and I have absolutely no way of fixing it!"

His chest heaved and Severus just stared. His friend was falling apart, over that idiot, Altair Castell. What had happened? Why had it happened? They weren't even friends that Severus could recall...Narcissa.

"Excuse me, Lucius."

.oOo.

Hasan opened the red front door to find a pretty young girl, most likely Ginny's age, but without the obnoxious adoration of the manor or the prospect of seeing the Boy-Who-Lived. Her eyes were silvery, like Draco's, but not sharp at all. On the contrary, rather soft. Her lips were slight and pink, and she had on a black dress with silver star earrings that glinted out from behind her soft blonde hair. This must have been an old connection…

"Hello." Hasan said, his mouth going dry. There was an emotion, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Hello, Hasan Castell." she replied dreamily. "I'm Luna Lovegood. Am I late?"

"You know my name." Hasan stated blankly.

"Yes, I know many names." Luna smiled, warmth in her eyes. Hasan looked at her oddly. Did she know? Like the sorting hat knew? Like the letter and Ollivander and his wand knew? "Don't worry, I love secrets." she said, and handed him her gift.

"No, you're right on time." Hasan breathed. "It's lovely to meet you, Luna."

She nodded and stepped inside at his universal gesture of enter. She smelled faintly of gardenia...

When they entered the dining room, Ginny frowned at the new arrival and Neville seemed to want to melt into the floor.

"Why are you wearing black?" Hermione inquired the burning question, with a pointed glance. Hasan had been wondering too, but was too polite to care.

"Oh! It's good luck to wear black on birthdays!" She smiled at all the other occupants who were also wearing the morbid shade, and tilted her head. "Happy Birthday, Neville."

At that moment, Augusta made her entrance with dinner, chicken pot pie, salad, steak, potatoes, bread & butter, triangular sandwiches...before conjuring a seat for Luna. The blonde moved it to sit next to Hasan and Neville, and the two kindly shifted over for her.

"What a lovely dinner," Tracey complimented to Neville. "Your Gran is quite the cook. We have house-elves to do our cooking for us."

"House-elves?" Hermione asked blankly.

"Oh, yes. They're um, they are these elves, short with big ears and eyes, and they do chores and things..." Tracey explained tentatively.

"You mean slaves!" she shrieked, looking at the girl in horror.

"Well, er, I'm not sure that they're the same." Tracey said quietly, "They like the work."

"Calm down, Hermione. All the pureblood families have at least a dozen." Draco drawled from his end of the table. Her eyes seemed to bug out of her head.

"A...dozen?" she squeaked.

"At least." Draco clarified.

"You've never heard of house-elves?" Theo wondered.

"'Course not, she's a muggleborn!" Ron sneered.

Hermione blinked away angry tears, wondering how her ignorance could lead Ron to be so mean...maybe because he wasn't invited to go with them to the stone...or maybe she should study more?

"R-ron." Neville mumbled. He really didn't want to deal with a disagreement.

"Yeah, Ickle Ronnikings, mind-"

"Your manners!" Fred and George chorused.

"It's not my fault she was raised in a muggle family!" Ron protested, shoving more food onto his plate.

"Shh, it's okay, Hermione." Theo soothed, but she had already run to the bathroom. Luna watched after her sadly. Hasan shrugged.

The rest of dinner was eaten in silence, frequent dagger-glare hybrids sent Ron's way from Theo, and some remark about Neville's house, hair, or superb flying from Ginny. Eventually, Hermione came around, but she was quiet as a mouse.

"Cake and presents!" Ginny declared happily, and the presents were opened right at the table. Mostly it was books, on politics, plants, animals, plants, quidditch, flowers...eventually he made it down to Hasan's gift, and by this time, most of the kids had gone to stare at the cake. He reached forward, but Hasan stopped him with a slight shake of his head.

"Later." Hasan whispered, and pointed to the book on Animagi.

The two rose and joined the others at the table, all looking at the large white frosted cake with the large golden letters: "BWL (and underneath it) Neville Longbottom"

Neville's face turned bright red and he stared at his Gran in horror.

"Oh, isn't it simply lovely?" Ginny gushed, goggling at the initials.

Draco shrugged and looked for Hasan in the crowd.

"Hasan? When do you want to-?"

"When only three remain." Hasan replied cryptically, and turned his attention back towards the lighting of the candles. The song of Happy Birthday began and ended, as Augusta took great pleasure in slicing the cake into generous pieces. Hasan was eyeing the knife in apprehension, knowing that he never wanted to meet Augusta Longbottom in battle. Not only could she simply wave her wand to cut the cake, but she reveled in the swinging of the blade...

.oOo.

Severus left Lucius to cradle his worn out mind, and had come upstairs to give Narcissa a little chat.

"Who is it?" Narcissa asked, wrenching open the door with a choked sob. Oh, dear. Crying women were really not Severus' forte... "Oh, Sev. H-how are you?"

"Fine, Narcissa...but Lucius is not." Narcissa nodded sadly and offered Snape a seat in a plush black chair. She herself took up residence on the bed.

"I know!" she wailed. "But I don't know what to do! He won't tell me what's wrong! He's just so obsessed with Hasan!"

Which reminded him.

"He gave the boy the dagger..." Severus breathed. There were only three per family, per generation really, and the giving of one was practically unheard of. For the Malfoy's doubly so.

"Yes." Narcissa nodded. "Yes, Draco's taking a liking to Hasan C-castell."

"Ah, I see." Snape murmured after a moment. "And what is it exactly that you know about Mr. Castell that Lucius does not?"

She glanced up at him with bloodshot eyes, before coming to a resolution.

"Everything."

"Elaborate."

The blonde gave a shudder and sighed. "I don't know much of anything really, but...before my marriage to Lucius, did you know, he used to have a f-friend?"

Snape nodded slowly, his understanding, but not his recollection. Lucius, having another friend? That Snape didn't know about?

"Well...h-he, no one knew anything about him! And then he died, disappeared."

"Who?" Snape demanded, though he already knew the answer. "Who?"

"Altair Castell."

Oh, how did Altair manage to get himself into these sorts of things?

"Did you ever meet him?" Snape queried.

"No, no, no one ever did." Narcissa sighed. "We never talked about him, ever...but, there were rumors that he didn't want to be in the Dark Lord's service. He was never heard of since."

Snape knew this much. The man had been desperate to escape...had been desperate enough to die. But there was something else. Why was Lucius involved? Why was Lucius suffering from memory blanks seven years long?

"There's something else. Tell me." Snape hissed. She shook her head, tears streaming down. "This is about your husband!" Snape roared. "He is tearing himself apart right now because he can't remember! No one knows! And if you can help him- save him, and you're so close! Goddammit Narcissa!"

"Altair...he." she seemed to be struggling through the words. "He contacted me one day, many years ago, before Draco was born...before the wedding."

Everything went still.

"He-" Narcissa collapsed in tears, "He said Lucius was safe now. That he could serve the Dark Lord faithfully. But he took the memories...He said never to mention him again, or the seven years they had worked together. I-I was stunned. And...and I don't know what to do."

Snape , too, was gaping. Altair had supposedly protected Lucius from what? Obviously the Dark Lord, his mind supplied. But why? What had been so terrible to make the man want to leave? Turncoat? What had they been working on?

And oh so conveniently, Altair had disappeared from Snape's radar too. Raven couldn't be found. Altair didn't show. He was gone.

Severus looked at the broken woman before him and shut his eyes. Narcissa couldn't do anything but tear her own self up with guilt. She needed to be strong, for Draco, for Lucius...and the Dark Lord when he returned. There could be no cracks, no seams or splinters. No emotion. No guilt.

"Obliviate."

No recollection.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 11: Black and White

"Bye Neville!"

"Bye, Happy Birthday, Neville!"

"Thanks for inviting me!"

"See you later, Golden Boy!"

The guests filed out, activated their portkeys, and were whisked away, leaving behind the forms of Neville, Hasan, Luna, and Draco.

"Can we do it now?" Draco asked impatiently. "Honestly! No Christmas present should be delivered this late! You might as well wait till next Christmas!"

Hasan shrugged, looking at Draco's white-blonde hair in the darkness.

"I suppose that was supposed to be sarcastic?" Hasan questioned innocently.

"Oh, Salazar!" Draco cried out. "Just give me the potions already! I've trained with Sev all summer!"

"You have to see Professor Snape in the summer?" Neville cringed. "Oh, I couldn't deal with that!"

"Well he is my godfather." Draco informed him. "So are we doing this or not?" His eyes strayed to where Luna was busy staring up at the full moon, the light illuminating her pleasant face.

"Oh, I love secrets!" Luna called from her position. She straightened and walked next to Hasan. "I wonder what animal you'll be...I won't tell." Her face was full of hope and trust, and it was mutually decided that she should stay. (Since she knew enough information to indict them anyway.)

"Neville, when you're finished the preparation, you'll do this too." Hasan told him. "But for now, keep it safe, yes?"

Neville nodded as he watched the two Slytherins with interest. Neville and Luna were off to the side as Hasan and Draco backed up into the field. Augusta had already fallen asleep to the rowdy young wizards' chatter, and the night was theirs.

"Bottoms up?" Draco called.

"Yes." Hasan said, and Draco tilted back his head and downed the entire vial.

He shut his eyes, hoping that whatever he was, wasn't hideous. Trust a Malfoy to be concerned about ascetics and not about potentially fatal side-effects...

Draco felt nothing at first as the cool liquid slid down his throat. Then there was a tingling in his fingertips and toes. Hasan, Neville, and Luna waited with baited breath...and then Draco began to glow in soft silver light. The light surrounded him, yet did not cast its glow on any of their surroundings and alert Augusta of their...activities.

Draco gasped audibly as the light went inside of him. What the hell? Was this normal? Sure he had read up on it and all, but no one had mentioned this part! His bones snapped in half, as if an invisible hammer was breaking him and building him back up from the inside out. He couldn't help it- he cried out in agony, though it sounded more like a whine as his legs shortened and pelvis rotated forward...

"Oh my!" Luna gasped, taking in Malfoy's new form.

"Wow." Neville echoed, squinting into the darkness.

Twenty feet in front of them, where a second ago stood a writhing Draco, now sat a gorgeous white lynx. It seemed to smirk at them before licking its large white paw with a deep purr.

"That makes sense. In an odd way." Hasan murmured, looking blankly at the feline. He was certainly large, and majestic, beautiful too, really. Hasan wouldn't put it past him to actually kill someone in this form just to see if he could. "Tu aimes, non?" Hasan asked.

The lynx roared and prowled beside Neville. The Golden Boy reached up tentatively to pet it, and most surprisingly, the lynx lowered its head and complied. After a minute, it shut its large silver eyes, and transformed back into a (thankfully) fully-clothed Malfoy.

"Ha! That was amazing, Hasan." Draco laughed. "Merry Christmas!"

"I'm glad you like yourself." Hasan smiled, before raising the vial to his own lips. The icy potion rolled down the polished glass into Hasan's waiting mouth. He wondered vaguely if being Hasan and not Harry had any bearing on his Animagus form, but didn't have long to think before the sensations took over. Hasan wasn't one that people would usually describe as 'emotionally-in-tune,' in fact, he was downright apathetic. But what people didn't know, was that inside, beneath all those layers of Hasan, was a Harry. Not that they were separate...but Hasan enjoyed the comparison. And currently, Hasan was very much wrapped up in his Harry side. The emotions were overwhelming: his heart, his pulse, the grass, his lungs, his friends.

A light green mist surrounded him. A cry ripped from his lips as his body melted down, shrinking, shrinking, breaking, solidifying. They hadn't said it would be this bad! Granted, only fully grown witches and wizards had undergone the transformation on the record. Still, it would have been nice to have a little warning! His arms shortened, legs shortened, nose elongated...eyes, well he didn't really know.

Suddenly, a squeal shot through the air, accompanied by a peal of laughter.

"Oh, Hasan!" Luna squealed, then laughed with a twinkling sincerity. "Ah! This is wonderful! Absolutely you!"

Neville beside her was squinting. "What the heck, Lumos!...Oh! You've got black fur!"

"Hey, get over here, Hasan! I want to pet you!" Draco laughed as Hasan gaped.

"Aww! He's so cute!" Luna murmured.

Hasan sighed and got to his feet, swishing his fluffy black tail in the air. He turned gingerly, feeling the blades of grass he crushed beneath his padded paws, and blinked at his friends in surprise. They were all watching him with adoration. Was he really that cute? What in Salazar's name was he? He shook his lean body out and sensed a tail, little paws, and a snout. A dog? A kitten?

He stared questioningly at the trio and sat in front of Neville with a flick of his tail. What?

Neville cleared his throat. "Hasan, y-your eyes...they're emerald green."

"It's kind of spooky actually." Draco admitted, reaching out to stroke his little ears.

Well that's just great, Malfoy! Now if you could-?

"I don't know. They're beautiful, Hasan." Luna murmured truthfully. "Like the Avada Kedavra."

The two boys stared at her in shock, gaping candidly as her silvery eyes widened.

"What?" she asked. "The shade is perfect!" Luna reached down and pulled Hasan gently into her lap. Hasan sighed, he couldn't transform back now! "You're much smaller than Draco. I bet I could fit you in my purse." Luna said conversationally.

"Don't you dare!" Draco said.

"I agree. I don't think he'd like it much." Luna concurred amiably. She set him lightly onto the grass in her palms, and beamed down at his tiny figure. Hasan sighed out in relief and shifted back into his human form, recognizing with great pleasure that the switch was now painless.

"What was I?" Hasan demanded.

"Oh, sorry-" Draco said laughing, "I forget in my amusement."

"Well?"

"You were a black fox kit!" Luna informed him sweetly. "Really quite adorable. I bet you could sneak into all sorts of places being that small. But your eyes were rather pretty."

"Scary, more like it." Draco muttered.

"Well, I'm glad I'm not completely defenseless." Hasan commented. "But I did like your lynx. Well done, Draco."

Draco beamed under the praise, and asked Neville what he thought he would be. But all the while, Hasan watched Luna's wondering eyes, and he knew who the fourth vial was going to be. The four departed, Neville to his house, and the rest whirled away with their portkeys.

For Neville, it was the best birthday ever.

.oOo.

Severus found himself later that night pacing around his office at Hogwarts. He entered into his private chambers and fell onto the bed, head pounding furiously. Each summer, Severus Snape had taken up lodging within the school, despite owning the deed to his childhood home at Spinner's End. His youth had been most distasteful and he much preferred the comfort of Hogwarts, even if it was filled with little cretins for 75 percent of the year.

He had a lot to think about.

Remus Lupin had received his dose of Wolves' Bane Potion yesterday, and was probably curled up in the side of his mutt friend (Black confessed to being an Animagus to further the validation of Pettigrew's testimony), Sirius Black, at number 12, Grimmauld Place. Black made it no secret that he hated the house, but after being released from the horrors of Azkaban, there wasn't much time for planning.

So it seemed that the two did have something in common after all.

Snape turned his attention towards other things, like Hasan Castell and his damnable father, Altair. The boy was adopted, and yet, Snape had never heard of him until this year. It just proved that Altair was fully able to hide some things. A statement proven by his rather emotional afternoon with the Malfoy's.

What could it all mean?

Seven years missing from Lucius' memory. Taken supposedly by Altair to keep him loyal to the Dark Lord. Hasan Castell suddenly appearing at Hogwarts, even though his name had only just appeared three summers ago. And then, those beautiful, heart-wrenching emerald eyes that flashed briefly at the end of term. How was it that Hasan was able to battle the Dark Lord and win? And then it seemed that the Dark Lord summoned Peter Pettigrew, for what? Surely not resurrection! Not yet!

Yes, there was a lot to think about and yet so little time. Some good did come out of it, however: Lockhart was dead, and Peter was receiving the Kiss. Justice at its finest!

With these comforting and turbulent thoughts, Severus prepared for bed.

.oOo.

On July 31st, Hasan and Altair began to ready for Hogwarts. His school supplies were ordered by owl post, meaning Hasan would consequently have to wait at the local market (under heavy anti-muggle spells) to receive his books. His homework for the summer was finished, finally, and the two resumed their training in dueling. Altair made profiteroles with chocolate sauce and heavy whipped cream for Hasan's birthday. And Hasan was gifted with what he dubbed the Black Blood Book by the mysterious L.A.M and A.D.C. He didn't know many people's middle names, but the first and last matched Lucius Malfoy and Altair Castell, perfectly. And yet the man was dangerous? A betrayal? Oh! How exciting! It was just like his Lord of the Rings books!

Speaking of books, Hasan had shoved the diary in his school trunk. He had already worked out the anagram in his mind, and the diary did indeed belong to Lord Voldemort. He didn't dare open it at the estate, least Altair's ability picked it up, so Hasan placed heavy protective wards over it, disguising it with his own magical aura as were all his possessions. Hopefully he could spend more time with both books in school.

August passed in a breeze! With Hasan learning to move around in his fox form every time Altair was out of the house, he quickly mastered the art of prowling silently, and learning to examine the scents that filled his nose.

It was amazing really how Altair could hide from Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the Ministry, but not notice that his son could turn into an animal. It seemed that his aura hadn't changed at least, which Altair now saw every day because he refused to let Snape know his whereabouts at any given moment. Which, unfortunately (or fortunately in Hasan's case) meant that Altair had no access to the Daily Prophet, and thus had no knowledge of the events occurring last June. For Altair, the Dark Lord was still dead, and Hasan was determined to keep it that way. He wondered how long Altair would put up with the headaches before contacting Snape and uncovering the whole fiasco... Hasan shrugged. The man would find out eventually.

Hasan thought of Draco in his lynx form, white as fresh snow with large gray eyes. Then pondered what Neville and his new acquaintance, Luna, would be. Could one's Animagus be a plant? Hm, Hasan would be thoroughly amused if that were so. But where would the transformation even take place? They would surely complete their studies within the school year. Hasan vaguely recalled a portrait talking of a come-and-go room...perhaps he'd ask the house-elves...?

.oOo.

It had been a two weeks since the party, and Lucius was no sooner getting the name 'Castell' out of his mind than he was two weeks ago. He was going insane, he felt it. He barely slept anymore and even then he was dreaming of a low chuckle and light blue eyes. Altair Castell.

He had done his research, assuredly, and it had infuriatingly coincided with Snape's version of events. The man was declared dead after his disfavor with the Dark Lord was known. It seemed that Lucius'...association, however and whatever that was, remained undiscovered. Lucius could only think that Altair had erased his memories to protect him...but this was wishful thinking. Good intentions? Towards him? And even if that was the case, how in hell was this suffering doing him good?

Lucius sighed and sat up in bed. It was 3am but he wasn't in the least bit tired. Just then, a large brown owl battered its wings against his window. Tang! Tang! Tang! Lucius alighted from the bed gracefully and welcomed the owl inside, figuring he might as well. It was a friend, it must've been for the owl to arrive at his personal chambers...

He untied the letter from the owl's leg and sent the owl back outside, knowing that his own eagle-owl would be willing to make a reply trip later if necessary.

Dressed in a black and gray striped dressing gown, Lucius Malfoy settled at his desk and unfurled the parchment. His breath stopped.

"Dear Lucius,

You have questions. I have answers. All I demand is secrecy to the utmost and you may know everything. But only if I get what I want too.

I propose an exchange, a classic Slytherin quid pro quo, and you may ask me as many questions as you like in exchange for a few simple tasks. Follow my instructions and you may still hope to salvage those precious seven years of your life.

But I warn you. This information will disrupt your perfect life. Accept with caution, but refuse with even greater caution. This is a onetime offer. Of your enquiries, I will send back three answers once I've seen that your task has been completed. Please think carefully and enclose your reply within this envelope.

Best regards,

Altair Dean Castell"

.oOo.

Somehow, in the hustle and bustle of the Hogwarts Express, Hasan found himself in a compartment with Draco, Luna, Neville, Tracey, and Ginny. Ginny latched herself onto Neville's arm (literally) and Neville himself was getting a little bit flustered. Twice he had to leave the room and escape to his fellow Gryffindors to get away from the ginger haired maiden. Daphne and Theo were with the other Slytherins, like Blaise and Pansy, down the hall. Theo had momentarily thought about sitting with Hermione (who had been making puppy dog eyes at him) but decided it would be entirely inane to associate with the Gryffindors. Especially with Ronald Weasley in the same room. It seemed that Hermione was still not over Ron's crassness at the party, but only remained with him because of her inability to make friends.

"Did you see that new professor?" Luna asked mildly once the trolley rolled away.

"For DADA, yes?" Hasan asked.

Draco snorted, "Obviously. Father says there's a jinx on the position put there by the Dark Lord."

"Oh yes, I can sense it." Luna said, which was met with silence.

"What did he or she look like?" Tracey inquired politely, her blonde hair falling forward as she leaned closer to the girl.

"His name's Remus Lupin, and he's asleep in Hermione and Ron's compartment." Luna continued. "I'm actually surprised that those two are sitting together. Ron really shouldn't have said that."

Neville was surprised that the girl remembered as much, then again, Hermione did run out crying...

Remus and Romulus...Lupin, Lupine. Hasan thought quickly. Well wouldn't that be ironic if...Well, Dumbledore hadn't had a problem with hiring Quirrellmort, so perhaps the man really was a werewolf. Hasan decided that he'd ask Snape later, but really it was so blaringly obvious that he didn't think he had to. All that remained to be seen were the days of his absences. But Hasan didn't have any sort of prejudice against dark creatures. If he had, he most certainly wouldn't be conversing with a snake on a mostly daily basis.

No, Hasan hated stereotypes and categorizing people, and he resolutely determined that he should meet this Professor Lupin first, before judgment should be made.

"Did you hear they were going to hire that fool, Lockhart?" Draco laughed. "The man was a fraud! He just obliviated everyone that he wrote about so that he could continue his scheme. I can't believe Dumbledore would hire someone like that! Oh wait! I can!"

Draco chuckled to himself as Tracey smiled kindly.

"And that rat animagus, Pettigrew. They're going to have Dementors around the school now because of him." Neville piped up nervously.

Hasan felt so out of the loop. Without the month old Daily Prophets, he was now a summer behind the times. Neville seemed to latch onto Hasan's confusion for he promptly explained, "Um, the Potter's went into hiding when V-voldemort (he had been practicing over the summer) went after them. They had performed the Fidelius charm and set Sirius Black as their secret keeper, but...apparently they switched to Pettigrew, and Pettigrew betrayed their location to V-voldemort."

"So what happened," Tracey continued, "Was that Sirius Black went after Peter Pettigrew for revenge, and Peter killed a bunch of muggles and escaped by turning into a rat. Sirius Black was sentenced, without trial, to life in Azkaban."

"Oh." Hasan said. That was pretty stupid. Sentenced without trial? And they should really have a better hold on this Animagus epidemic. It was just so easy nowadays for schoolchildren to turn Animagus...

"But you know, it all works out!" Luna said happily, "Sirius Black was released, causing Lupin to reemerge. It's a shame about the Dementors though. I'd really hate to be kissed by them-"

At that moment, the train began to decelerate, slowing to an agonizing stop with ringing breaks. Luna's silvery eyes went wide and she pulled out her Quibbler to hide her face behind. Even Draco wasn't looking so good, what with his already pale skin turning ghastly white as the color drained from his face.

Hasan recognized the effects of the Dementors immediately: His breath came out misting before him, and the window began to fog up with frost. Not to mention that the train lights flickered out at once (why were they electric?), sending them into near total darkness. Tracey was looking at everyone wide-eyed, as Ginny squeezed the life out of Neville's arm. It seemed the only one not freaking out was Hasan, who had whipped out his wand and prepared for a confrontation. He wasn't a master by any means and his Patronus was hardly corporal, but anything, even a wisp, was better than nothing...

Screams, echoing from the front and back of the train, more terror than anything, before the outcries seemed to move on as the Dementors floated through the halls. What idiot left them to roam? Hasan thought bitterly. The screams of terror were nearer now and Ginny was whimpering pitifully into Neville's chest. That's when the cold settled in, dowsing them in ice, to the very core of their souls.

"Lumos!" Luna muttered quietly as she peaked over the top of her magazine. The compartment door was illuminated by her wand light, just in time for it to roll open. Tracey stifled a cry as something beneath the Dementor's hood sucked in a gasping breath. The figure was covered in a cloak that reached the ceiling, two skeletal hands, wrapped in thin rotted flesh, protruded out from under it, reaching out deliberately and patiently as if blind and searching.

Hasan felt his chest contract, his heart begin to race, "Expecto Patronum!"

A thin stream of silver light emitted from his wand, floating towards the creature in a pitiful mist. Its hands tore the protective magic away, like one tearing down a cobweb, and advanced upon the source. Damn, Hasan thought. His training only went so far, and by this, he meant his father in a robe. All he could think, as his eyes rolled back, was that hopefully the Dementor didn't want to kiss him...

A white mist surrounded him, and Hasan himself didn't know where he was. Then the white took on shapes and figures and sounds. He made out the Castell Estate, and then, was that the diary of Tom Riddle? On the table? Yells of "It's one of them, yes. The first. Don't touch it." but the voice too hazy to be recognizable. One what? First of what? Why shouldn't he touch it? Then he felt a hand on his shoulder,-

"Hasan, come back. Professor Lupin's coming." Luna whispered urgently in his ear, and he was suddenly jerked awake to find himself sitting on the floor. The lights had been returned to full power, and his friends peered at him curiously. Quickly, he slid up onto his seat, a hint of rose pooling in his otherwise emotionless face.

"Hasan, are you-" Draco began as the new DADA professor knocked and fluidly opened the door.

"Is everyone alright in here?" His voice was thick with what Hasan assumed was sleep, and there were myriad wrinkles lining his face. His hair was thin, yet a full and healthy brown, freshly dyed. He seemed nice enough, pleasant, and concerned enough for a werewolf. "Oh, it's, it's Hasan Castell, isn't it?" he said pleasantly, looking Hasan straight in his jade green eyes. Hasan nodded numbly.

"How?" So it wasn't a proper sentence, but Lupin figured it out.

"Professor McGonagall mentioned that she taught you a thing or two. And of course, Professor Snape has talked of all of his snakes." He smiled and reached inside his dapper brown robes for some chocolate. "Here." He broke off a piece for everyone and left to rescue the occupants of the next compartment.

Hasan chewed his chocolate slowly, (after sniffing it for poison, drugs, and various miscellaneous things), and let the sweetness spread through him. He really did enjoy chocolate, and after that dementor-induced frost, there was nothing better in the world.

"So, er," Neville cleared his throat. "Are you alright, Hasan? You kind of just blacked out on us."

Hasan blinked and shrugged. His thoughts wandered to the diary stowed beneath his homework, and wondered when he would next get to investigate it. "No, I'm fine."

In all honesty, he hadn't been terrified. He had a rather active imagination, perhaps the mem- no- dream had been just that- nonsense? Yet he had a distinct feeling it wasn't so.

"Oh, alright." Tracey said.

"Professor Lupin seems like he'll be better than Quirrellmort." Draco drawled. "I hope he teaches us to make a Patronus. His was a wolf, by the way, chased the dementors right off the train."

Well that settled it, Remus Lupin was a werewolf, as if Hasan needed more proof.

"But your attempt was pretty nice, Hasan." Tracey said sweetly.

"It didn't do much though, did it?" Hasan said, "Thanks by the way, Luna." he murmured, and Luna beamed beside him.

.oOo.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had just sent Draco off to Hogwarts and returned home in a timely fashion. Narcissa was happier it seemed than usual, and was even giving Dobby some off time. The abnormal little elf actually appreciated it, and then disappeared to god knows where until Narcissa called for him again. Lucius, if it could be said, was also in high(er) spirits. His sleeping patterns evened out, and the bags under his eyes gradually disappeared.

Narcissa didn't suspect a thing. Why would she?

But Lucius had a secret, a terrible one: every night he would read the letter sent from Altair Castell and debate whether to reply or not. And then what exactly it was he was supposed to say. It made him so inexplicably joyful that he wasn't completely insane, that this Altair Castell did indeed exist, and yet, was it worth it? Yes, he had the perfect family. The perfect house. The perfect job. He was in favor with the Dark and the Light, and was financially secure (for the next hundred generations).

Why disturb this?

His flashbacks had evened out, the memory blanks weren't even detrimental. When would someone ever ask him what had happened in those years? But it was the simple fact of not knowing that drove Lucius up the wall.

What were the tasks? Who was this man? Was he dead? Why was he thought dead? Why was Lucius involved? Without even being aware of it, he had magically secured the room and had begun to write. The curiosity was back in all its ferocity and Lucius couldn't take it anymore. He had waited for Draco to leave so as not to worry him, but Draco was gone, and Narcissa was no longer prying. He needed to know, or so help him he was going to bloody kill himself!

"A. Castell,

I accept. I only ask that you send owls during the night to avoid suspicion. My questions in no particular order are: Who are you? How am I involved with you? Why are my memories gone from those particular years? Why do I have glimpses? Why did you write? Why are you thought dead? Why was the Dark Lord after you? What did you do to displease the Dark Lord? Are you Light or Dark? Are you the man I saw in Diagon Alley? Is Hasan your son? Is he really adopted? Who is the mother or father? Did you tell him to befriend Draco? Do you live in France? Why am I to complete these tasks?

These questions are not limited, but surely you can find three to answer satisfactorily.

Regards,

L. Malfoy"

Lucius sealed up the envelope with plain red wax, not daring to place the official Malfoy insignia upon it, before performing the usual anti-theft spells. He called up his eagle-owl, attached the letter, hoping that its inherent sense of direction would suffice, and sent it on its way.

.oOo.

Hasan, Draco, Tracey, Daphne, and Theo took up their resident seats at the Slytherin table, leaving Neville to find his place among the lions. Luna and Ginny had rushed off to be with the other first years as soon as the train arrived, so they entered separately with Professor McGonagall leading the way. Up at the staff table, Hasan noticed Snape looking at him peculiarly, and his immediate thoughts headed towards the diary and then to the events on the train. Had Luna been too slow? Had Lupin seen him on the floor through the glass and alerted his head of house? Hasan's jade green eyes rose dully to the challenge, staring blankly at the onyx eyes until Snape looked away. Something was different though, a connection or recognition of prior discoveries? What did Snape know? How did Snape know? And why did he seem more tired than usual? His black hair fell lifelessly to border his sallow face, but his entire demeanor seemed to scream 'late night work'.

Beside the Potions master sat the werewolf, Professor Lupin. He had brown hair and kind eyes, and seemed very much to be enjoying the lively school atmosphere. His gaze wandered over the Gryffindors with a melancholy expression, and Hasan realized suddenly that this man must have been a Gryffindor, but more importantly, that he seemed to be searching for Harry Potter. Yeah, him and the rest of the world.

Albus Dumbledore took center stage, plum colored robes sweeping the floor.

"As you may have noticed, we have dementors guarding the castle this year." The whispers and murmurings started, and Albus raised a silencing hand, "I did not wish for this. But the Minister has insisted that proper measures be taken. Over the summer, the mass murderer and Death Eater, Peter Pettigrew, has been detained and kissed." Hasan noticed Lupin's face drain of color. Perhaps they had known each other? Which meant sense if Lupin returned because Black was released, because Black knew Pettigrew on the minimum basis of betrayal. And Pettigrew and Black knew the Potter's well enough to be their secret keepers. So Hasan's birth parents must have known Lupin,-"To protect the students of Hogwarts from future attacks by Lord Voldemort's supporters," here, many kids winced, "we must tolerate these guardians until the threat has been declared null..."

"Yeah, some guardians," Draco muttered, "Bloody soul suckers."

Dumbledore, obviously ignoring the thousands of horrified faces, plunged on with his uplifting speech. "As you have also noticed, we welcome a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin!"

This elicited many cheers from the many who had received chocolate on the train. Even Draco appeared to be pleased that this teacher seemed to know what he was doing.

"Unfortunately, Gilderoy Lockhart couldn't make it this year after a run in with a vampire clan, but I am sure you will all enjoy learning from Professor Lupin!"

The speech ended in applause (more so because the speech was finally over, than love for the headmaster,) and the sorting began...

"Lovegood, Luna!"

The silver-eyed girl brightened considerably at her name, and rose from the crowd of first years to glide elegantly over to the stool. There were many odd stares at her walk and demeanor, and a few pointed glances at the rolled up magazine sticking out of her pocket. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders like a shawl. Professor McGonagall dropped the hat over her head, smiling faintly at the girl before her vision was swamped in darkness.

"Ah! A Psychic!" the hat nearly shouted in joy, "What a pleasure it is to look into such a mind!"

"Oh, you can sense that?" Luna wondered innocently. "I had a feeling you might."

Luna had known since she was four that something about her was different. Her father was different, very different, but he was insane and obsessed with nonsensical things. Luna was different in a different way. She had premonitions, feelings, enhanced intuition,...but wasn't a seer by any means. Not only could she not see the future, but she often times couldn't decipher half the things she sensed. When she did, it was always a small victory, and recently, she had been experiencing a lot of those.

"Of course, Miss Lovegood. I can see everything inside your mind, don't worry, I don't pry. So where to put you? Surely you have some idea." the hat almost sounded amused, if such a thing could be said of a hat. Then again, usual head accessories didn't talk or sing, or read minds, so what did Luna know?

"A diadem. I sensed a diadem one day..."

"Yes, the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Someone else asked that a long time ago. Funny how people think all headwear know each other..."

"So it's real?" Luna asked eagerly. "I remembered wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure but couldn't put a memory to it. Some things just appear, and we can't make sense of them either way. But this seems pretty clear cut: I think I should be in Ravenclaw. What do you think?"

"It's clear, I shouldn't stall, you belong to-

"RAVENCLAW!"

A cheer went up from the Ravenclaw table as Professor McGonagall took back the hat, and Luna went happily off to join her housemates. A pretty Asian girl introduced herself as "Cho Chang," and Luna immediately found herself wrapped in a conversation about drop-dead-gorgeous-Cedric-Diggory, a Hufflepuff student a year ahead of her. Halfway through the conversation, Luna glanced at the Slytherin table to meet dull jade eyes, and Luna smiled as an inexplicable warmth flooded through her. Another sign she couldn't quite understand. She turned her dreamy eyes back to Cho, just as the youngest Weasley scampered off the stool to wrap herself around the waist of the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione looked on in disgust...

.oOo.

Sirius Black had stubbornly insisted on two things once he was out of Azkaban. 1) That he be introduced to Harry 2) That Remus, for once in his life, take care of himself, properly.

After being exonerated from the heinous crimes of which he had been accused, the Black family vault had once again been unlocked and bestowed upon the last legal heir.

Remus had predictably resisted any such special treatment, insisting that Sirius had just gotten out of Azkaban, and that he shouldn't indulge his past relations. Time had passed. But Sirius hadn't changed. Remus still deserved the very best, and Sirius had the money to squander. He didn't feel the least bit guilty about it either. What care he if the fortune was built generation upon generation of detestable Black relatives? Up until a few months ago, Sirius was to die an unjust death in Azkaban! Plus, it was all worth it to see Remus blushing in embarrassment.

He really was quite cute when he did that.

A few days later, Dumbledore and Minerva had dropped by the Black's ancestral home to offer Lupin the DADA position. How they figured he would be there wasn't truly a genius' work: Sirius and Remus had been quite publicly dating in their last few years of Hogwarts, a relationship desecrated instantly that fateful night eleven years ago, when Peter, not Black, had betrayed the Potter's to Voldemort.

It hurt to even think about, and the pain of having to tell him now...Albus, the ever sensitive grandfather, was quick to stab it where it hurt.

"He's missing. Quite possibly dead."

The one thought, hope, and dream that had kept Sirius alive through Azkaban, shattered in those few callous words. Good going, headmaster, Lupin inwardly thought. But readily accepted the position. If he were to reenter Wizarding society, (he had stayed with a werewolf pack in the south of France) it was best to start with a job. Few people hired werewolves these days due to their prior loyalty to the Dark Lord. And by few, it was implied none. Albus offered, Lupin grabbed.

So here he was, Professor R. J. Lupin of Defense Against the Dark Arts, in fashionable brown wizards robes, a head of totally brown hair, and wondering 'where on earth was Harry Potter?'

.oOo.

The feast ended with dreadful singing, much applause, and lovely food. Hasan gave a sympathetic (blank) glance to Neville, as he and Draco exited the Great Hall and turned right, down into the dungeons.

Hasan couldn't wait to uncover the diary at the bottom of his trunk. It had been pressing on his mind all night, further agitated by the...flash he had experienced with the dementors, and he truly hoped to have some answers soon.

Draco wished him good night and shut himself in his room, leaving Hasan to his own devices. He sent Raven to the owlery before rummaging through his trunk for the diary. He placed it on his desk and sat down, quill in hand, inkpot freshly opened on the table.

He flipped through the pages again, but everything was blank. It seemed too odd: the old cover, the crinkly, yellowing pages, the obvious age of the book (if you did the math) from Voldemort's childhood or teen-hood till now. (It was a clearly old book, so Hasan assumed the Dark Lord had used it during Hogwarts. What type of full time Dark Lord had time for journaling?)

Hasan dipped his quill in the ink, carefully running the quill over the paper.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle = I am Lord Voldemort. It is an anagram."

He figured that it was neat enough. It was how he took notes in class. He sighed and rested his chin on his palm just as the ink began to disappear.

Hasan's breath quickened as he hastily dipped his quill in ink. His writing had just been sucked in! It was a magical diary! How fascinating!

Before he could continue to write, however, words of the diary's own creation blossomed across the page.

"Who are you?"

The writing was delicately slanted in a fine round cursive.

"I call myself Hasan. How old are you?" Hasan scrawled as neatly as he could.

Immediately there was a reply.

"I am 16." The words to be replaced by, "Hasan, nothing else?"

Hasan thought for a minute. This book was responding to him. It had a mind of its own. It was dark and therefore dangerous. And yet, what could a diary do to him?

"Hasan Castell. What house were you in at Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin."

Well that was admittedly predictable.

"What are you?" Hasan asked. "What are you really? There are more of you, aren't there Tom? But you're the first."

A pause so great that Hasan was about to close the book ensued, until Tom finally deigned to reply.

"I am exactly who I say I am. I am Lord Voldemort, the sixteen year old version imprinted forever in this diary. As for the first, I had not been aware there were more. Until later, Hasan Castell."

The ink seeped from whence it came, and Hasan again stowed away the diary. Somehow, Tom Riddle had managed to preserve himself in a book, and yet, Hasan was ignorant as to what purpose. Perhaps he should have started out by asking that, but he hadn't wanted to be too bold. Ask the basic questions first, get into intent later. Still, the diary was enthralling in its own way, and Hasan found himself wanting to converse more with this Tom Riddle...

.oOo.

The very first DADA lesson of the year was quite eventful to say the least. Professor Lupin had waited for everyone to settle down, the Gryffindors and Slytherins, before making an entrance from his office at the top of the stairs.

"Hello! Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Hasan noticed that he appeared considerably more lively, probably having gotten over the shock of a school without Harry Potter. But why? Hasan couldn't help himself asking. All they wanted him for was to defeat Voldemort! That was pretty clear from the way Dumbledore's twinkling eyes would land on Neville sometimes. So why was it that this Remus Lupin still seemed so affected? Perhaps James Potter and Remus Lupin were good friends? It would be worth getting to know him better...

"Today's lesson will be hands on, in the sense that you need only your wands! So books away, quills away!" he smiled happily as they all shoved their books back into their large bags, gaze wondering innocently over to Miss Granger who had taken out many other books. She sensed his gaze and flushed, knowing she should have just left the extra reading to the Common Room.

Draco glanced at Hasan excitedly, obviously curious as to what this new teacher would have in store for them. Hasan himself was just happy to be introduced with a competent instructor. Altair was knowledgeable, but it was always good to have a second opinion, especially when that second opinion taught how to defend against useful, everyday spells, not full on Death Eater massacres...

Neville was looking pretty ambivalent, a mixture of apprehension and eagerness. While Ron beside him was staring dumbly onward.

"We can all stand up, class. How about around this wardrobe, yes?"

It reminded Hasan of the Narnia book, written by C.S. Lewis, a friend of J.R.R. Tolkien. Suddenly, the lesson just got very fascinating. He looked at the old wardrobe piercingly, wondering what on earth could be hidden in its interior.

"Filch has let me borrow this for my lesson today for it contains a boggart. Now who can tell me what a boggart is?"

Hermione's hand shot in the air, but it was Hasan he called on despite his less than enthusiastic nod.

"Mr. Castell?"

"A boggart is a household pest that likes to reside in dark, confined spaces. It takes on the form of the viewer's worst fear, yet no one knows what it looks like alone."

Hasan hadn't ever combatted a boggart in training yet, for Altair had seemingly something to hide within his fears, and Hasan had never pressed the issue, not prepared to give up such vulnerability. But hell to that! Now he was here in front of half his year, but not panicking. Only wondering idly what it would be.

"Very good! Ten points to Slytherin!" (Hermione looked put out, but otherwise didn't comment.) "Now, the incantation for getting rid of a boggart is 'Riddikulus.' It works in conjunction with bringing humor into your fear, for boggarts hate laughter. I shall demonstrate to give you all an idea, but first, any questions?"

Neville raised his hand, "Sir, can we opt out if we want...not that I want to, it's just."

Lupin smiled kindly, "Of course, anyone who wishes to simply watch or try in private may step to the side."

The kids all looked at each other, the peer pressure brewing, the mutual fate of all solidifying. Remus nodded curtly.

"Right, well stand back!" He flung open the wardrobe with her own hands, and a bright full orb came floating out. It hovered before the Professor, glowing innocently before the Professor shouted, "Riddikulus!"

With a crack, it fell to the floor as a cockroach, and Professor Lupin forced it back into the wardrobe with a spell.

"He fears...white balls?" Draco asked in disbelief. Hasan suppressed rolling his eyes. How Draco could be so blind, and Lupin so obvious, was beyond him. Still, Hasan didn't think any less of the Professor. It made sense really, and it was rather poetic in a strange way. If anything, Hasan respected the man for displaying such vulnerability in front of them. Perhaps DADA would be fun this year after all.

"Wow..." people breathed, some quite shaky now as they envisioned their own worst fears descending upon them. Hermione's brow was furrowed in thought and Neville looked like he wanted to run for the hills.

"So shall we begin?"

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 12: Boggarts and Detective Snape

"So shall we begin?" Lupin asked jovially. The boggart was back in its wardrobe, but shook menacingly from within. "Because there are so many of us, it will be confused as to whom to turn to first. I shall call each of you forward when it's your turn to face the boggart, but first, I would like for all of you to think about what frightens you most and how you will transform it to make it comical."

Uneasy faces slowly closed their eyes as they thought. Hasan however, was looking blankly ahead. What scared him most? Voldemort? Dementors? Altair dead? Him dead? Draco hating him? Time? Honestly, how open ended could you get? But he wasn't about to ask the professor to define what 'terrifying' meant. He knew what it meant- he wasn't an idiot, it was just...what was it that scared him the most? Alice in Wonderland? Having this all be a dream? Waking up on Red Mill's Hill? Or better yet...having Dumbledore appear...or Sauron appear with his Nazgûls. No wait- that would just be awesome.

The heads around him began to pop up as they finished their battle plans, rolling up their sleeves and muttering riddikulus beneath their breath. Draco's head rose with a gleam of determination in his silver eyes, and Hasan immediately abandoned his own plotting to wonder what Draco's boggart could be.

"Is everybody ready?" Lupin asked. "Good! Alright, Hermione, if you please. Will you consent to be the first?"

The bushy-haired witch nodded resolutely with a clenched jaw. She strode to the front of the room, brandishing her wand in front of her.

"On the count of three...one...two...three!"

The wardrobe was blasted open by another spell, when none other than stern-eyed Professor McGonagall stepped out, looking sorely disappointed as she gazed down into Hermione's eyes. The aged woman shook her head sadly, holding up Hermione's end-of-term report card.

"I am sorry, Miss Granger, but you have failed! I am very disappointed in you! Do you know I always thought you didn't have it in you, being a muggleborn and all-"

Hermione staggered, harshly biting her lip. "R-riddikulus!"

A thin stream of light hit the boggart on target with a loud Crack! Immediately, boggart-McGonagall smiled radiantly as she held up a shiny new award. On the plaque was Valedictorian, Hermione Granger, although no one but Hermione really paid that much attention.

Remus clapped his hands. "Simply wonderful, Hermione! Ron, you next!"

The pleased brunette and terrified ginger swapped places and the boggart instantly latched onto its next victim. Where once was the professor, now stood a menacing black spider with long, sharp pincers, ready to gut the red-head from the inside out. He swallowed.

"Remember the charm!" Lupin called pointers from the side as the boy held up his wand. It took Ron a few moments before he gathered his courage and shouted:

"Riddikulus!"

Crack! The spider's legs disappeared, leaving the large and helpless black body to roll around, shrieking pitifully.

"Good! Neville, up! Have courage!"

Ron went back into the crowd, ready to see what the Boy-Who-Lived feared most. Neville, meanwhile, had sprung forward on bravado he clearly did not have, but was attempting to appear as if he had it as per Professor Dumbledore's orders.

The boggart rematerialized as the Neville's Gran, tears running down her face. She wore a long green robe, a vulture hat, and the large red handbag that Hasan had seen at the party.

"How could you, Neville?" she yelled in fury, "Your parents? You're lucky they can't understand a single thing anymore! They would be so disappointed if they knew! You're a disgrace!" she spat, and choked on her own tears. "A disgrace!"

Neville began to tremble as Professor Lupin gazed on worriedly. Should he step in? Save the poor kid? No! Professor Dumbledore had told him to let the child grow without interference (the hypocrite). Remus sighedandsilently prayed to Merlin for reprieve.

Neville wet his lips, eyes darting around nervously on the edge of a panic attack. But before Lupin could do much more than think, Oh, sod it!, Neville had pointed his wand and muttered-

"Riddikulus!"

Crack!

His Gran remained, but this time with a large smile on her face. A full-bellied laugh erupted from her stoic, and overall, no nonsense features, and Neville found himself chuckling. It proved just how harsh his Gran could be, if her laughing was hilarious for him.

Lupin looked on thoughtfully. That was certainly a turn of events.

Many of the following kids passed by quickly, having some (pitiful, Hasan thought) fear of snakes or dead animals.

The Slytherin girls went in succession: Tracey's was a wasp turned butterfly, Pansy quickly opted for an out, and Daphne's was a drowning kitten. It was rather sad.

"Draco?" Lupin called, tearing his eyes away from the kitten turned lion, licking up the invisible pool it had previously been drowning in.

The Malfoy heir rose elegantly from the crowd, head held high, wand at the ready.

"R-" He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

The boggart transformed just then, from the lion to his dead parents on the floor. He leapt back in fright, never imagining such a horror. He had at first thought of a divorce contract, something that would rip his family apart, but nothing near remotely as gory as this.

"Ri-"

His parents' eyes snapped opened, hands reaching up towards Draco's face. The blonde froze, mouth agape. Their faces were so clearly dead, but they continued to reach, as if they were inferi.

"R-" Draco shut his eyes as tears threatened to form.

Was this truly his worst nightmare?

Hasan considered stepping in, but decided that everyone had the right to face their own fears. He was surprised, however, that Draco's family did mean so much to him. Suddenly the dagger, the extension of the Malfoy family, meant so much more.

"Riddikulus!" Draco managed to scream, schooling his features into a typical cold, Slytherin mask.

Crack! His parents were forced into Auror robes, healthy again, and were making crude remarks about the style and fit of the Auror trench coats.

"Typical mum." Draco mutter amused, as the blue-eyed witch rubbed at the hemming distastefully.

"Alright, who haven't I called?" Lupin asked, eyes grazing the crowd. Everyone shook their heads and backed away, leaving one, long haired, jade eyed boy staring blankly at the front. "Ah, yes. Hasan."

The boggart had transformed back into a moon, as Lupin was the closest to it, hovering patiently as the next boy approached. All eyes were on Hasan, trained on his wand which slipped discreetly from his sleeve and into his hand.

"I am curious." Hasan said aloud. "I wonder what it will be."

They gaped.

"You don't know? You didn't guess?" Hermione asked shrilly, thinking back to how horrified she would be if she had been unprepared for combat. Hasan shrugged.

"It was rather an unspecific question." he said with a glance towards the werewolf. Lupin was looking at him curiously as if seeing him for the first time. Hmm, so that's what Snape sees in him.

Taking a deep breath, Hasan strode forward, jade eyes trained dully on the moon. The boggart seemed to sense him for it zoomed forward and changed with a crack...

The entire room gasped in one collective breath, mouths hanging open, eyes bugging out...

Harry Potter.

Well this is interesting, Hasan thought as he studied the twelve-year-old before him. Harry had grown to the same height as Hasan, but with vibrant emerald eyes and uncontrollable, wild, raven black hair in place of his dull jade and long thick brown. Boggart-Harry didn't speak, (thank Merlin!) But he smiled gently with a tilt of his head.

"Th-That's Harry Potter!" Neville screamed, mouth hanging widest of them all.

"Blimey! Do you see his scar? It's really him!"

"Look! He's got the scar!"

"And glasses!"

"Do you see those eyes?"

"Like emeralds!"

Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Draco were gaping at Hasan.

"That's Hasan's worst fear?" they echoed, frowning in various states of confusion.

Hasan glanced, rather bored, at Professor Lupin. The man himself was moving his jaw, up and down, grinding his bones, though no words came out. He couldn't bring himself to speak. Finally, he just winced: This would be all over school tomorrow... And how did Hasan know what Harry Potter looked like? It was all so confusing, so emotionally agitating...this was James' son. The very first time he saw Harry since their deaths...and it was in the form of Hasan's boggart.

Boggart-Harry-Potter raised a gentle hand and waved elegantly, a charming smile painted serenely on his face, like an angel had painted it on a whim. The boy pushed back his wild fringe, revealing the pale skin of his forehead and the bold, lightning bolt scar. The class ogled at it for a good minute before boggart-Harry moved on and brought his hand up to his lips. With practiced grace that sent the girls hiding their blush behind their hands, Harry sent them all a single flying kiss.

"Ooohh!" Parvati breathed, before promptly clutching her heart. Lavender Brown beside her simply melted.

"Isn't he gorgeous?"

"Beautiful, I'd say!"

Ah! Now it makes sense, Hasan thought. The attention. Being in the spotlight. The arrogance. With an easy flick of his wand he said steadily,-

"Riddikulus."

CRACK! Harry Potter smirked one last time before he too disappeared, leaving behind a single golden ring which dropped to the floor with a ping. Hasan's eyes widened. It was all true. He wanted nothing more than for Harry Potter, the essence of Harry Potter to just disappear. Become invisible. And it was hilarious, because he was Harry! And Harry Potter only represented the golden boy image, when really Hasan was the real Harry Potter all along!

The room fell silent as they gazed on the golden ring, the intricate script running about it. It even seemed that the room became depressed, wishing that they could gaze upon the charming Harry Potter all day long. When suddenly a peal of laughter rang throughout the room. Hasan laughed! For the first time, he let a genuine peal of laughter slip from his lips.

"Oh! Oh! Merlin!" He doubled over, smiling broadly. "C'est vrai! (It's true)"

Crack! The boggart vanished in a great grey poof, escaping the tinkling laughter generated by this one boy!...

Silence.

The children gazed on puzzled, and yet disappointed. Harry Potter? It finally hit then and they stared at Hasan with a mixture of shock and horror. How could this one boy possibly know what Harry Potter looked like when no one had seen him in years? And why was he something to fear? And what was that ring?

Lupin loudly cleared his throat.

"Well done, Hasan." he said slowly, suspicious and sad and angry and happy and very very confused. "Well done."

Hasan remained impassive.

"Class dismissed." Remus said quickly, with a flick of his hands.

.oOo.

Remus sat with his head in his hands. What the hell had he just witnessed? Dumbledore was convinced that Harry Potter was dead and continued to bolster Neville Longbottom as the Boy-Who-Lived. And yet, something wasn't quite right. It seemed perfectly feasible that the prophecy had referred to Neville, but every time his name was mentioned in the staffroom, there was a niggling feeling that they knew something Remus didn't. It wasn't so hard to figure out that Harry Potter was missing and that Neville was a ruse. But then, why did everyone play along? Neville especially? The answer came easily to his mind: Augusta Longbottom. Her approval meant everything. So then, if Neville couldn't save them, then why weren't they looking for the Harry? Dumbledore insisted that they had been making annual trips to Surrey ever since last year! But that was a pitiful excuse, even by Dumbledore's standards.

So why had Hasan's boggart turned into the Boy-Who-Lived? A perfectly healthy, twelve year old one at that. Was the boy alive? Hiding?

Remus had a headache. The full moon was coming soon and Sirius was to substitute while he was out. Remus only hoped that his mate wouldn't set the children back too much...but that was wishful thinking.

Again, Hasan shoved himself up to the forefront of his mind...Should he tell Albus? Decidedly not. With the choices the headmaster had made lately, Remus was beginning to wonder if the man was just getting too old. Then Severus Snape, the boy's head of house, perhaps?

Come to think of it, perhaps he should ask Snape about Hasan. He hadn't remembered a Castell in his time at Hogwarts, so maybe the boy was not native to Britain? Perhaps his family taught that Harry Potter was someone to be feared? A baby that could defeat a Dark Lord? Obviously dangerous!

But this explanation didn't seem to make sense either. The boy hadn't even seemed scared! Just-just blank. Oddly blank, always blank. Even on the train...

Lupin sighed and got up with obvious effort. He might as well go down to see Snape now...for the Wolfsbane potion, of course.

.oOo.

Snape had had an irritating day with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs causing their cauldrons to overflow. Then again, he'd just make Ron Weasley (there were too many of them, he certainly didn't use his given name out of endearment) scrub them during detention. Yes, that was a good plan.

After dinner, Severus had immediately swept to his private potions lab, attached to his office, to brew one Remus Lupin one dose of Wolfsbane potion. He couldn't stand Albus' constant praise of the Golden Boy anymore! A pointed glare at Lupin confirmed his appointment to pick it up later that night, but something in his eyes made Snape pause. Surely the werewolf had nothing to confide in him! Him of all people! What with his mutt at home, why talk to the greasy bat of the dungeons? In fact, why not talk to Albus if something was troubling him?

Gryffindors, they never made sense.

He ladled the finished potion into a discreet mug, and cleaned the lab with a flick of his wand, before exiting into his office. His thoughts dwelled on Lucius, Altair, and Hasan. The Dark Lord wasn't far off the mark too, but mainly, he was concerned about the first. During the summer, he had been at the manor nonstop, helping Draco with his transformation preparation, and assisting Lucius (or rather, not assisting Lucius) in cracking the code of his flashbacks. After his visit with Narcissa, however, he hadn't been called back once. No firecall, no spur of the moment floo visit, nothing. Had he given up, just like that? Or had something happened that he wasn't prepared to share with Severus?

As for the Castell's, Hasan was acting as normal as usual, which was decidedly abnormal, and had not contacted him so far for any reason. Then again, school had just started, so perhaps later? Altair was completely MIS. Raven, it seemed, no longer knew the location of the man, and had refused taking the potions bag, period. It grudgingly did so one day, just to return with it two hours later...it seemed Altair was cutting off all ties, even with Severus.

So Lucius was silent, Altair was missing...it was hard to believe they weren't connected. But there was no way Severus could demand to know for sure. He couldn't even interrogate the kids, because they were sure to know nothing. Well, maybe he'd ask Hasan, but he was sure that that would be a dead end.

Somewhere in his musings, the door had creaked open and the brown haired professor had slinked through.

"Lupin." Severus sneered, thrusting the mug into the other's hands. Remus blinked in surprise, but remained standing. "What?"

The werewolf took a deep breath before starting. Severus raised a supercilious eyebrow.

"I...I wasn't sure who to tell." Lupin confessed quietly, locking and warding the room with a fluid sweep of his wand.

"Why not tell your mutt?"

"I think the word you're looking for is mate, Severus, but I haven't even told Dumbledore."

Oh, now this was interesting.

"And what would you be hiding from the headmaster that you would willingly tell me?"

"It's about Hasan." Remus blurted. Severus blinked.

"Indeed. Pray continue."

"And Harry Potter." Remus finished quickly.

Another puzzle piece?

"What?" Snape said sharply. "What has Hasan got to do with the golden boy?"

Remus swallowed. "I thought Neville was-"

Snape rolled his eyes, "Surely you've realized by now it's all a farce. A worthy decoy for time if we actually spent it on finding that damnable Potter," Snape hissed bitterly, "but certainly not a flawless cover. Now how is Hasan related to Harry Potter?"

"Er, that's the thing," Remus said, grabbing a seat across the desk. "I don't know. I've actually had to cast a low level mass obliviation on the class...I'm not particularly proud about that, but I couldn't let them all go running, now could I?"

Ah! So that's why he couldn't speak to Albus: memory tampering of any kind was strictly forbidden. And Lupin was already on his first and last strike because of what he was. Severus' lip curled, feeling more comfortable now that Lupin had only come to him because of lack of options, and not because they were magically friends. Then again, why not ask Minerva? She wasn't exactly happy with the headmaster at the moment and could probably keep a secret better than anyone...

"Lupin, slow down! What happened in class today?"

"Boggarts."

Snape's already pale disposition drained of color. "Hasan Castell's boggart-"

"Was Harry Potter, yes." Lupin finished uneasily. "As head of house, you see why I've come to you. Perhaps you can tell me something of the boy's past?"

No, no he couldn't see why the wolf had come to him of all people. And no, no he couldn't tell of the boy's past! Snape summoned his firewhiskey from the cabinet, uncorked it and poured a glass for each of them.

"Perhaps you can tell me everything." Snape suggested smoothly to the stunned wolf's face. Snape had offered him alcohol. Severus Snape. Lupin took a long draught. Better, much better. His breath was warm as he began.

"He- Hasan was, well, I called him up, and it became Harry Potter. I would have recognized him anywhere. He's exactly like J-james (stuttering because he was sad and because he didn't want Snape to toss him out), b-but I couldn't get a good view of his face, I saw the scar and, well I was just too...in shock to move and get a 360 view." Remus defended mildly, "But, he was charming. Exactly like his father...pulling back his black fringe to reveal his scar, and blowing kisses. I was afraid some of the girls would faint..."

Potter! Bloody attention seeking Potter! Why bother looking for the boy when he was clearly off being pampered somewhere- NO! This was just a boggart, just a boggart. Besides, Harry wasn't James anyway, not with the relatives he grew up with. Snape took a deep breath, careful not to take any whiskey as he continued the interro- er- conversation.

"How did he rid of it?" Severus queried innocently. "What happened after the incantation, you did let him finish it, didn't you?" Snape asked with a pointed look.

He was half worried that Lupin had stepped in. Half of learning about someone's fears was how they absolved them.

"Of course," Lupin said. "Everyone has a right to face their fears." He took another sip of the fiery liquid and Snape noticed it was nearly empty. "Well, he shouted the spell and we all heard something small and hard hit the floor with a 'ping!' Hasan seemed to smile at it, I think it was a ring, oddly enough. The whole class went silent for a moment and then, out of nowhere, he just started laughing."

"Thank you." Severus said finally, and escorted the man to the floo. Lupin seemed a bit bemused that Snape wanted him out right away, but he was too sad to ponder the Potions Master's silly behavior. The DADA professor disappeared in a flash of flames, leaving Snape to contemplate in solitude.

A ring? A ring? Where had he heard of a ring before? He stumbled wearily into his bedchambers, wondering when everything had gotten so complicated. And of course, Albus didn't see a thing. Nobody did. Nobody but Snape.

He flicked his hair clean with a spell, but it would take more than that to get the years of potion residue off of them. With a sigh, he dressed and lay wide awake in bed. And then it hit him.

The Lord of the Rings.

.oOo.

There was double Potions with the Slytherins the next day, and Ron was less than happy. He grumbled about it all through breakfast until Hermione finally got fed up and left to go find Hasan at the Slytherin table. Ron shrugged, callously as ever: He had really tried that first year to be more sensitive and polite, but even after helping the queer quartet, they had left him behind in their moment of glory. His mother, Molly Weasley, had been very thankful he had not followed the others, but Dumbledore was less than pleased.

He wanted Neville to make friends with the Weasley's, not shun them! Unfortunately, Molly hadn't cared about Dumbledore's opinions when it came to the safety of her children, and Dumbledore sighed, 'another piece lost.' Yet, his hope had revived with the introduction of the youngest Weasley. Miss Ginevra was a true treasure, really, latching onto Neville Longbottom like an elegant parasite.

As Hermione left the Gryffindors in a huff, Neville's eyes had followed longingly after her, but couldn't move due to a certain manacle- er, menace, known as Ginny Weasley. Believe it or not, Neville was quite happy to go to Potions because it meant he would be seeing Hasan again. He wasn't sure why he had this desire to talk to him, but he had a feeling it had something to do with yesterday's DADA lesson. Come to think of it, what had happened?

"Nevillllle! You didn't answer my question!" Ginny whined. "Why aren't you trying out for quidditch?"

"Oh, er. I don't feel too comfortable with dementors flying around." Neville said absently. This seemed to sate the young witch for she stopped her infernal pouting.

"You know you can let yourself be Neville when you're around me." she said quietly. "I know I said it before, but I want you to understand, I really want to be your friend."

"Er, yeah...wait, what?" Neville turned to her and she blushed.

"I live in a house full of guys. I don't have anyone to talk to!"

"You...do know I'm a guy, right?"

"Of course I do, silly! But you're not my brother. So what do you say, friends?" Her face was so sincere and hopeful that Neville actually returned the smile.

"Sure, Ginny."

She sat right up and gave him a hug.

"Thanks, Neville." she breathed in his ear. Neville thought her warm breath lingered there a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Across the table, Ron was still blabbering about Professor Snape to Dean Thomas, and anyone else who would listen.

"...and his hair is so greasy!..."

.oOo.

Luna was sitting next to Cho Chang again, listening to the same Cedric-Diggory-Loves-Me speech for the umpteenth time. Her eyes caught Hermione as she huffed away from Ron, and she decided to go for a little trip too.

"Love is wonderful isn't it?" Luna asked to no one in particular and rose to follow the brunette witch.

"Ah! I know!" Cho said dreamily, not even noticing Luna was gone and instantly began chatting with Penelope Clearwater. It just so happened that Penelope was also in the throes of love...

"Hello Luna, Hermione." Hasan murmured without turning around.

"Morning, Hasan. Ron is such a prat." Hermione growled.

"Tell me about it!" Theo called from across the table. Tracey smirked as Hermione's cheeks lit up. Theo smiled further and invited the girl to sit with them, which she took up readily.

"Hello Hasan." Luna said sweetly.

Hasan decided it was only proper manners to turn around at this point in the conversation. He locked her with a warm smile that never quite reached his jaded eyes.

"How did you know it was Luna?" Draco asked quietly.

Hasan shrugged. "Who else would say love is wonderful? The tables aren't exactly soundproof."

Draco accepted this and returned to his breakfast of waffles.

"Hasan," Luna whispered, "I sensed a mild obliviate during yesterday's DADA. I think it's best to leave things be. No use stirring up oil and water, they'll just separate."

An obliviate?

"Lupin..." Hasan breathed. Who else would have done this? And why? And how did Luna know anyway?

Hasan had, admittedly, thought it odd that no one had brought his boggart up yet, but hadn't suspected the werewolf to be the cause of it.

Luna nodded. "I'm not sure what happened. Perhaps I'll explain it to you later." she said thoughtfully. "Oh, and bonne chance with Potions today. Professor Snape is particularly informed, don't you think?"

With that, Luna waved good-bye and returned to the Ravenclaw table. Hasan poked at his sausage.

.oOo.

Double Potions with the Gryffindors no less! Professor Snape was not a happy camper. That irritating know-it-all, Miss Granger continued to mumble instructions to Neville all class, and Severus was under strict instructions from the headmaster not to interfere. How was this helping the boy to grow? The bushy haired witch practically did everything for him!

On the other side of the classroom worked the Slytherin duo of Hasan and Draco, mincing diligently at the salamander skin. Beside them were Tracey and Daphne, and then Theo and Blaise. Pansy was stuck with Millicent, and of course, Crabbe and Goyle were botching their stew in the back.

Severus' keen onyx eyes passed discreetly over Hasan as he scanned the room. The boy's long brown braid fell down his back, tied by a thick brown ribbon. He worked perfunctorily, yet perfectly, in a rhythm of a true potions prodigy. Perhaps he could question Hasan under the guise of tutelage? Suddenly, dull green eyes were upon him and he stalked over to inspect their potion.

"If you could see me after class, Mr. Castell?" Snape said nearly inaudibly.

Draco looked up surprised as Hasan gave a curt nod. Was Hasan in trouble? What was going on?

"I'll stay." Hasan whispered, and continued to flawlessly dissect the spine of his lionfish.

Draco added three drops of rose oil, and their potion turned from brown to a vibrant viridian blue.

"Weasley!" Snape barked, striding away with his robes billowing behind him. Ron gulped and accidentally added the whole phial of rose oil. His murky yellow creation began to bubble violently, before dowsing him, his partner Lavender Brown, and Seamus in a blistering red concoction. "50 points from Gryffindor! Mr. Longbottom, if you could escort them to the Hospital Wing?" Snape snapped, whipping his wand around to get rid of the dangerous fluid.

Draco snickered in his sleeve but stopped as he caught Hasan's gaze. It wasn't even that Hasan was looking down at him disapprovingly or judging him for him immaturity, but that he was so emotionless, it made Draco feel silly. Stupid even. He stopped laughing awkwardly, quickly resuming the crushing of his figs.

Hasan shrugged. Maybe there was hope for the Malfoy heir after all.

Once the little cretins had run out of the room, Severus Snape stepped up to the very last occupant- Hasan Castell. He was carefully slipping his Potions text in his bag, taking his time to make sure all his quills were stashed neatly, before pivoting to face the Potions master.

Hasan waited patiently for the man to start, not really knowing why he had been held back, but making the correlation between Luna's cryptic remark, and Snape's analytical gaze.

"Hasan, it has become increasingly clear that you show a great aptitude for potions."

Hasan...the man had used his name, his first name...and complimented him. Both of which were unheard of, made even more special by the fact that Hasan had received but a handful of compliments in his life. (Not that Hasan really minded. He enjoyed to blend in the background.) But then...both at once? Hasan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Clearly this man was after something.

So the real question was: Should he confront the man about the boggart? Or see where his head of house went with this?

The latter was decidedly more likeable.

"Thank you, sir." he said passively, biting his lip to appear less like a threat.

Snape nodded and continued. "Not many possess such skill and I would like to offer my private instruction to help guide you."

"Are these lessons to take place inside your private potions lab?" Hasan wondered idly.

"Yes. Though I have yet to work out a schedule."

"So this was spur of the moment, Professor?" Hasan probed, "You have just come to the conclusion that I deserve private training?"

"No, I have noticed it for a while now."

"Which is all very well, except that I don't believe you want to only talk about potions, is it Professor?" Hasan said lightly. "You see, I'm going to have to gracefully decline your offer. But if it will make you feel any better, I am more than happy to answer any questions that may be concerning you. For a trade, of course."

Severus only refrained from gaping at the child from his long years as spy. How had the child deduced everything so simply? Well, there was no need to keep the charade up. Plus, he was too busy with everything going on now, to designate a night every week for some farce.

"Alright. What is it you propose?" Severus asked, the Slytherin inside of him rejoicing at the prospect of an equal- no, not equal! The boy was twelve for Salazar's sake!

"I want to cast a corporeal Patronus. I'm sure you could teach me."

A Patronus? That wasn't even remotely feasible! For a child? Then again, a voice said, he had learned to become an Animagus.

"I could. But what use would it be if all my endeavors come to nothing?" Snape spoke quietly.

"You wish to know my Animagus form?" Hasan queried. "Perhaps I'll even give you a demonstration. When is the earliest we can meet?"

Snape thought a moment. Dumbledore had him reviving some club or other, and Lupin needed a potion brewed every month. Suspicion couldn't be aroused by meeting too often or too late...

"November 7th, three pm, on a Saturday." Snape replied. "And I don't need to explain to you to be discreet, do I Hasan?"

"Was that rhetorical or sarcastic?" Hasan wondered evenly as he grabbed his schoolbag. "Well, à bientôt, Monsieur. I'll see you soon."

.oOo.

What was left of September swept past in a flurry of homework and classes. Sirius Black had indeed made an appearance, but only for a day, as Professor Lupin was eager to get back to teaching. He looked a bit worse for wear on Tuesday, but otherwise betrayed no signs of serious illness. Hasan himself was impressed at the man's perseverance, but quickly figured out that the man must be taking the Wolfsbane potion (accounting for the early recovery), and the most likely candidate for brewing that was Professor Snape.

So then, why was it that Snape and Lupin seemed to resent each other? Pointedly ignoring each other during meals despite sitting next to one another? When Black came in, Snape hadn't been to the Great Hall once. Hasan concluded that Snape didn't like them much, probably from their own time at Hogwarts, and that Severus then disliked his birth father, James Potter. It was pretty straight forward: Lupin, Black, Pettigrew, and Potter were friends. Snape shows signs of extreme dislike towards Black, and tolerance towards Lupin, and it wasn't rocket science to guess that Snape felt similarly for James Potter as well. Except for the simple fact that James was dead.

Hasan found these details rather annoying. Now his conjecture could be proven false by some wildcard like murder! Hasan sighed. So what if Snape hated James Potter?...

.oOo.

The Halloween feast was comparably duller than last year. Orange and black streamers, animated bats, dramatic ghosts...it was all back to normal, and Hasan found himself thinking what a great waste of time it all was. What with no troll and all, the festivities were downright boring. He slipped from the feast with Draco, walking up a flight of stairs to hide from the view of the Great Hall.

"We need to get familiar with our Animagus transformations," Hasan whispered evenly, "A place where Neville can concentrate in peace and time stands still."

He had been wondering when they could begin training all through September, but hadn't yet found an adequate venue, nor a time to converse privately with Draco without causing suspicion.

"I've heard of such a room, called the come-and-go room by the house-elves." Draco informed him thoughtfully. "I've got a house-elf, perhaps he will know-?"

He looked to Hasan for confirmation before commanding, "Dobby!"

With a sudden crack, a little elf with large green eyes and floppy ears appeared before them, in a pressed white pillowcase and holding a pan of...bacon?

"Oh! Master Draco, sir!" His already large eyes dilated to the size of tennis balls and he tried to vanish the pan before questions arose.

"Wait!" Draco shouted, then changed to a whisper, "Wait! Dobby, where were you? We don't eat bacon." he told Hasan beside him. He remembered vaguely a rant about unnecessary oils and fats...

The house-elf muttered some things, head twitching back and forth in a rather physical inner debate.

"Dobby was not forbidden to tell you, Master Draco, but Master Draco should be keeping it secret, yes? Oh! Bad Dobby! Bad! Making requests of Master-!"

He scrambled to the stone wall and started banging his head profusely against it. Bang! Bang! Bang!

Hasan looked on with a shrug. Yes, he could see where Hermione could be offended, but this was Wizarding culture. Ethnocentricity wouldn't get one anywhere. So he stood back and watched with rapt interest. They were nothing like Tolkien elves...

"Uh! No, Dobby, quiet! Stop punishing yourself!"

Dobby stood rigid at once, but his pupils looked longingly towards the wall.

"Dobby, I need you to tell me where you were. I promise not to tell anyone without reason, alright?"

And then...his eyes began to water, "Oh, Master Draco is so kind! Dobby has been staying with his other Master. Dobby be belonging to the House of Black so Dobby been with-"

"Sirius Black." Hasan supplied in a bored voice. "And the other Master? You mentioned plural?"

Draco turned towards Hasan sharply as if forgetting he was there.

"Oh," Dobby said. "I had been staying with the Professor Remus Lupin."

Draco staggered back. "Whoa so the rumors are true!"

Hasan, who had never heard the rumors, had already figured out that Lupin and Black knew each other. How well exactly was now tacked onto their mental files.

"Dobby, do you know of the come-and-go room? I need to use it." Hasan asked briskly.

The house-elf nodded vigorously, "Yes, Dobby be knowing where the Room of Requirement is! It is on the seventh floor corridor, on the left! Across from the portrait of dancing trolls!"

"Wait, Dobby, there's no room in that hallway-" Draco cut in suspiciously.

"It's called the come-and-go room for good reason, Master Draco. You must walk up and down the hall three times thinking hard about what it is that Master Draco needs. Best be specific-oh!" Dobby made a hasty bow and retreated with a, "Be having good luck!"

After the elf's departure with a crack, Draco turned disbelieving eyes to Hasan.

"He's been to see Sirius Black!"

"But more importantly," Hasan steered him on topic, "Is that we now have a room." A room that would encompass anything you wanted...who else had found the room? Used the room? For what purpose? Did the teachers know? How many of the students knew?

"Hello Hasan, Draco!" a kind voice broke them of their thoughts. They turned to find Luna walking towards them. "If it's wanting to know the secrets of the castle, I think the twins would be helpful." She giggled and added, "but I'm not sure why. Ask them for a spare bit of parchment after class I suppose."

Luna turned to leave but Hasan reached out to stop her. She raised an eyebrow in surprise and Hasan hastily continued.

"Four doses. Draco, me, Neville, you." He had to be discreet, for the walls had ears and eyes, but Luna was great at giving puzzles if not equally great at solving them.

"Oh!" Her face brightened and she leapt to hug Hasan quickly around the waist. "I can learn with Neville! Sometimes he works better when the attention isn't on him. Have you noticed?"

Luna practically skipped back to the Great Hall leaving Draco to gape in her wake.

"Perhaps we should wait a month?" Draco wasn't sure he could handle more Luna Lovegood.

"Sure, pourquoi pas? Why not?"

Draco sagged in relief, and together, they trudged down two flights to the dungeons.

.oOo.

Altair Castell sat with Tina on his arm while he stared at the letter in front of him. Lucius Malfoy was cooperating nicely, but what now? Altair was never one to have a backup plan, but in this case, he had several. You could say this was his life's work- that his entire existence- built up until this pinnacle of time.

Basically, how much should Altair tell him and how much would he learn from what was told? Or what he was told to do? He began to write:

"Dear Lucius,

I will answer yours first on the faith that you will do as I wish. Fail to complete the task and you will no longer have this source of information. Need I repeat this is a onetime offer?

Your memories have been reaped to protect you from the knowledge acquired in those seven years. The glimpses from them are the emotions and memories that have latched themselves to your very magic- in other words, not even obliviate can remove them completely."

Altair paused: was this too much information? Could he possibly know that Altair had timed these hints to occur within the year? That Altair had been preparing him, enticing him, baiting him? No, Altair shook his head, Lucius was smart, but not that smart.

"Yes, I am the man you saw in Diagon Alley.

And now for my request: How did you meet Narcissa? Answer the question, this is my first task."

Altair strategically refrained from mentioning why he had to know, but also allowed leeway for a lie. Through this first question, Lucius would either lie (taking the answers and running...figuratively), or summon up the courage to take a chance, go out on a limb, and trust this mysterious person and whatever his mysterious motives were. It was asking a lot of the Slytherin, but Altair knew desperation, knew it very well, and knew that Lucius was so starved for knowledge he'd do anything. (Even if it didn't make sense). And really, it wasn't even a hard question!

"Of course I will send my owls at night. I wouldn't want to worry your wife, after all.

Sincerely,

A. Castell"

He tied the letter to a rented owl (he rented a different one every time), and watched it fly out the window.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 13: The Diary and the Room of Requirement

A drop of ink splattered on the yellow page and faded.

"Hello?" Tom wrote. "Hasan, is that you?".

Hasan's heart picked up. "Oui. Good evening, Tom."

"I suppose it's evening. I can't really see."

Well this was interesting. He could write but couldn't see. His whole existence relied on what was written in the book, so someone had to participate willingly.

"What can you do? What is your purpose?" Hasan scrawled.

"I can do many things." the diary replied cryptically. "And I have many purposes."

"That is impressive for a sixteen year old." Hasan wrote, stroking the book's ego.

"Not for the heir of Slytherin."

Ah! Amazing what a little praise could discover.

"The heir of Slytherin?" Hasan repeated on the page. "I am honored."

"So you are Slytherin? I'm glad to have a worthy owner."

Hasan bit his lip and waited. He had wanted to confront Voldemort himself about the blood book, after piecing together that Altair was probably hunted down because of it. It wasn't really that hard to do. But it begged the question: Did Lucius deny it? Or simply not remember it?

"What do you know of blood purity?" he finally asked, having pulled out the black book beside it.

"Blood purity is everything." Tom wrote quickly, as if excited. "The purer the blood, the more powerful the person. Muggle blood dilutes one's magical reservoir and leads to the ultimate dissolution of magic."

Hasan turned to his blood book and read the complete opposite. He copied the phrasing into the diary.

"And yet, it is the constant marriage within pureblood families that directly causes the birth of squibs. It is also noted that even the oldest and noblest family of Black has muggle roots, indicating that magic always sparks from a place where magic previously did not exist."

The diary ate the words, and poured forth more. "I do not deny the knowledge you have, but instead seek to guide you in the teachings of Salazar Slytherin."

"You knew Salazar?" Hasan replied in awe.

"I had talked with his familiar." Tom wrote back slowly. "He wished to purge the school of all but purebloods, you know. He has a means, an influence even now to carry out his task."

"Like a monster?" Hasan wondered. Silence. Hasan tried again.

"Why do you agree with Salazar? Why do you hate muggleborns and halfbloods, when it's proven they are equal in power and full of fresh magic?"

"Who carried out this study?" Tom enquired presently.

"I do not know." Hasan replied.

"Liar!"

"I can only guess." Hasan said.

"Then tell me!"

"But I don't know."

Hasan narrowed his eyes. This book was demanding, scary almost. What was it hiding? Could it force him to tell?

"Why do you wish to know?" Hasan asked. "Are you going to destroy it? Destroy them?"

"I will do no such thing. I won't even know them." Dammit, the book knew there was more than one.

"That sentence is full of loop-holes." Hasan pointed out. "But perhaps we can make a deal?" If Tom was going to be a pest about the authors, then Hasan might as well get something in return. It was one of the things about deals: both parties felt that they were richer once they left. It helped establish ties, and usually gave away more information during the process than a simple yes, no, or a name.

"What would you ask of me? I am simply but a fragment of a being. A book."

That sentence had given Hasan more information that he'd ever know. Fragment?

"I want answers."

"As do I."

"Shall we commit to a quid pro quo?"

"If I must." Tom scrawled less loopy and more sharply.

"Then I shall converse with you later."

.oOo.

Hasan quickly slammed the book shut, shaking for a reason he didn't know. He had felt, just for a second, that he would be trapped, writing to Tom for all eternity. His fingers felt over the ancient cover, wondering how it could be that a fragment of Lord Voldemort remained in this book to write to him. Perhaps he'd enlist Neville to use his invisibility cloak and sneak into the Restriction Section? Salazar knew he certainly wasn't going to arouse suspicion. But if Neville were found, the headmaster would probably let him look.

And that was probably the third-most reason he strongly and passionately disliked Albus Dumbledore. The first being leaving him with his muggle relatives (he had actually liked reading at Mrs. Haydn's). And the second was being a liar and forcing Neville into being the Boy-Who-Lived. But the third was being a bloody hypocrite! Talk about house unity and favor the Golden Boy. Talk about safety and have dementors and Quirrellmort and a three-headed dog!

Hasan hated hypocrites, and the headmaster was perhaps the largest one he had ever seen. Almost on par with Voldemort, whom had previously admitted to pureblood domination, while he was a bloody half-blood himself!

Yet, Hasan still needed answers from the man, er, diary, and so refrained from actually mentioning that part. If he wanted something from someone, he'd have to give them a way to give it to him. It was much easier to tell Hasan his secrets than it was to an enemy, and therefore, Hasan had no qualms with letting Tom continue his "Voldemort-is-Pureblood" charade.

He turned his attention to the Black Blood Book and wondered if Altair or Lucius would inadvertently suffer for his curiosity. Well, if Altair cared about his safety, he most certainly wouldn't have sent his son to Hogwarts (where the teachers would remember him) with the book!

He sighed, shoved both books deep within his trunk and fell into sleep.

.oOo.

"Yeah, the rough looking guy beside Lupin?"

"You think?"

"That's Sirius Black alright!"

It was lunch, and Snape had the inimitable pleasure of sitting beside Lupin, who sat beside the mutt. How the headmaster had looped him into this was inexplicable. Perhaps it was because he actually needed something from Lupin, such as up to date intel on the Castell boy, that he actually cooperated. But the mutt certainly wasn't part of the deal!

"Students!" Albus boomed. "As you may have noticed, we have a guest today!"

The man, up until the summer, thought to be a mass murderer grinned brilliantly with a wave. Most of the students had already met him when he filled in for Remus, but that didn't mean they all felt comfortable with him. In fact, most of the Hufflepuffs glimpsed up uneasily.

"Some of you have had the pleasure of having him as your substitute this year. For those who do not know, this is Sirius Black, and Mr. Black has been cleared of all false allegations against him! He is here for the remainder of the year to assist in reviving the Dueling Club in conjunction with Professor Lupin and Professor Snape. Anyone who wishes to participate may sign up outside of the library from now until tomorrow at sever, when the first session will begin in the Great Hall. Thank you."

Albus sat back down, eyes twinkling at Severus as Sirius not-so-politely reached over for the salt. Remus sat uneasily between them, no wanting to die in the crossfire, and quietly ate his meal.

"A Dueling Club!" Draco exclaimed with alacrity. "There hasn't been one since Father went to Hogwarts! Hasan, are you going to join?"

"Yeah, let's all go!" Tracey said brightly. The news was met with overall approbation from the entire hall and the volume suddenly multiplied.

"Alright then." Hasan said apathetically. He had met Mr. Black once in the past, for the September full moon, but Hasan had quickly grown bored of his stories about Azkaban. Black didn't seem to know what to do, preferring instead to entertain the class, and find things to teach on a whim. But in a duel, would this man excel? And what if he were pinned against Snape? Hasan was also curious to see Severus Snape in action, and Remus was certain to know a thing or two.

"Good...Ohh! Here comes the muggleborn!" Draco groaned, not meanly.

And right on time, Hermione had plopped herself down beside Theo (her new favorite seat), and proceeded to talk about ancient battle styles and techniques...

Hasan looked past her bushy brown hair and met eyes with Luna. She winked and gave a nod, before continuing to read her pamphlet on Animagi. (Luna was actually quite talented when it came to animals.) Perhaps he'd have their first Animagus session this weekend.

Presently, afternoon classes began, and Hasan trudged down to the greenhouses before he even got to sign up. He'd do it later, he decided, pulling up the mandrake root, just one thing at a time...

.oOo.

How had he met Narcissa? What type of nonsensical question was that?

Lucius glanced towards the door and calculated the chances of Narcissa walking in on him at this moment. They were slim; it was 1am and pitch black, not even Dobby was walking around at this time, though where he ended up these days, the Malfoy's didn't know. And they didn't talk to each other about house-elves enough to know that the other did not know...

Still, Lucius decided to ward the door before setting to work with his quill and parchment. Altair Castell's reply was unfolded before him, the answers examined, the questions read. A sigh escaped him as he scoured his memory.

So...how had he met Narcissa?

They were married in 1979 and Draco was born in 1980. Surely they'd known each other for some time before then? At Hogwarts?

The question was so abstract and yet so straightforward. How had he met his wife? Or how had they met at Hogwarts? Or how had they met before Hogwarts? All pureblood families knew each other from some marriage or other, so it wasn't so farfetched that they had met at a social gathering, and yet, Lucius could not recall a picnic or a ball, or any childhood memories with Narcissa in them.

He moved onto the next scenario: How had they met at Hogwarts? Well that was simple wasn't it? She was sorted into Slytherin and...had they met on the train? He assumed so...wasn't he with Bellatrix, three years ahead of them? It was all rather hazy now, life did that to people.

Well, he couldn't very well call the Minister and arrange for Castell to go Azkaban. That was about as graceful as tacking a target on your back saying 'Dark!' and the last thing he needed was suspicion flung on him and his family when he was so...in disarray. Not to mention his deranged sister-in-law would probably laugh at him.

Alright, so how had he met Narcissa Black, right before their marriage? Her mother, Druella Black née Rosier, had arranged a meeting with the Malfoy Lord. But why? If the numbers were correct, why not snap him up fresh out of Hogwarts? Why wait seven years? Unless...unless of course he was seeing someone else? He shuddered.

If he was embarrassed at his inability to recall anything with an ounce of detail, he was horrified at the thought that he probably couldn't at all. Seven years was a long chunk of time...very solid, very neat. So why was it that he could remember Bellatrix on the train and not her sister? Why was it that he remembered she was in Slytherin but not her sorting?

There were very specific details that had been tampered with in his memories. Only a Master Legilimens could have manipulated all of this inside his head. So not only was Altair Castell a memory thief, but a Legilimens as well.

Bloody brilliant.

Should he contact Severus, the only Legilimens he trusted, to poke around his mind? Or would that agitate his brain? Cause damage, make it worse? Lucius was all admittedly not that fond of people who knew more about him than himself. Why should Severus get to know more about his state of mind than him?

He brushed his hands through his hair, rereading the letter start to finish. If Altair was to be trusted, these memories were gone for his own benefit, but he couldn't trust Altair! The man was using his curiosity was leverage for whatever it was he wanted...and yet, what the man had wanted was to know how he met his wife.

A thought struck him then. What Altair had really wanted was for Lucius to realize, on his own, how much he truly needed Altair's aid in piecing together his life. A statement of dependence. How very...Slytherin of him.

"A. Castell,

I have attempted to recall how exactly I have met my wife, and yet I find my memories increasingly lacking. The clearest response that I hope will meet your standards is that her mother, Druella Black née Rosier had introduced us prior to my ultimate marriage to her in 1979.

I have three questions that I expect more satisfactory answers to: Why cannot I remember my wife? Were you aware that your son holds the Malfoy dagger? Are you Dark or Light?

L. Malfoy"

.oOo.

The Great Hall had been cleared of all house tables, leaving a wonderfully large space for dueling. There was a large turnout, all of the Slytherins in Hasan's year (including Crabbe and Goyle), and most of the Gryffindors, eager to see Lupin kick Snape's arse.

Snape was dressed in his usual menacing black robes, a scowl on his face more prominent than usual. He entered with Professor Lupin, who was wearing plain brown robes, with Black trailing behind them in a navy blue.

The students started at the doors, watching in awe as their teachers passed, looking more dangerous than ever. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that there was going to be a fight tonight. A bloody fantastic one at that.

Neville and the Gryffindors were oohing over Lupin, while the Slytherins watched their head of house appreciatively. No one seemed to know what to do with Black, for he was little known and a terrible substitute teacher. However, no one could deny the fierce and obvious hatred flaring between Black and Snape, and so the kids took sides respectively.

There was a platform erected in the center of the hall, which the three instructors stood on, overlooking the crowd.

"Wow! We managed to scrape up quite a crowd, didn't we?" Lupin smiled to no one in particular.

"Indeed." Snape sneered.

"Well, for those of you who do not know, I am Professor Lupin, that is Professor Snape, and this is Mr. Black."–he stifled a chuckle,-" Now, we thought it would be a good idea to start with a demonstration."

Everyone nodded appreciatively, knowing how hands-on Lupin liked to get.

"Professor Snape and I will duel, and then Mr. Black and Professor Snape will have a go. We'll start with a basic disarming charm, expelliarmus. After that we will each split you into pairs to practice."

Lupin smiled as he and Snape got into position. Black was reluctantly waiting on the sidelines, yet had a hungry look on his face indicating of excitement.

"Oh! I hope I'm not terribly late." Luna's voice piped up beside Hasan. He turned his head to find the girl with her head in another Animagus book. Hasan made a mental note to alert Neville and Luna of their first session this weekend.

"Um, not really." Neville said, holding hands comfortably with Ginny.

"Are they together?" Hasan asked in surprise.

"Love is wonderful, isn't it?" Luna remarked dreamily.

Their attention was soon recaptured by the dead silence that fell around the hall. Snape and Lupin had divested of their outer cloaks, revealing somewhat ordinary pants and shirts beneath. They strode to the center, bowed respectfully, and returned to their respective ends of the platform. They shared a nod and the first spell was fired,-

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin yelled with a lunge. A red light ensued, blasting Snape's wand into the air. "Accio!" The falling stick zoomed to Lupin's hand as the crowd broke out in applause. Lupin tossed it back, of course, but Snape's lip had curled distastefully. His Slytherins were looking dejected, staring enviously at the whooping Gryffindors. Well, except for Hasan and Luna. They didn't even appear to have processed anything.

"Remember, this is only a demonstration!" Lupin protested. "I assure you, if this had been a real duel, Professor Snape would have had my head in seconds."

"Aww, don't try to make Snivellus feel better." Black called obnoxiously as he stepped onto the platform. Snivellus? Had Hasan heard wrong? The fury rolling off Snape seemed to suggest otherwise.

"Then perhaps we should demonstrate a proper duel, Black?" Snape hissed venomously, striding forward to the middle again. Neville squeezed Ginny's hand, obviously quite nervous about an angry Snape shooting off potentially harmful spells. The Slytherins on the other hand seemed to draw forward in anticipation. Draco was smirking broadly, only knowing that Sirius had been burned off the Black tree. Other than that, he knew nothing but the palpable animosity between him and Sev. This would be interesting...

"Of course, Snape." Sirius mocked with a bow, "All spells go?"

Snape gave a terse nod and the two were off to opposite ends of the platform. Lupin still looked unsure about the whole let-Sirius-have-his-way thing, but he knew that Snape could hold his own...he was really just worried that he'd have to send Sirius to Poppy in a matchbox...

"Er, if we could just stick with Light spells please?" Lupin called out hopefully.

"Remus, surely you know that all spells can be made Dark, don't you?" Snape drawled before brandishing his wand at his opponent.

"Oh dear." Lupin muttered and quickly created wards around the platform, to catch any wayward spell.

"Confringo!" Sirius snarled, missing, but carving a chunk out of the platform stairs which went flying into the wards. Luckily, Remus' precautions shattered it upon contact.

"Incendio!" Snape countered. Hot, angry flames licked at Black, but he held his own and dowsed them with a muttered Aguamenti.

"Diffindo!" Sirius yelled, slashing the front of Snape's sleeve. "Expulso!" He was swinging his wand arm about wildly, missing the second my nearly a mile.

"Protego!" Snape roared. "Stupefy!" The shield charm blasted Sirius Black into the ward (which was spelled not to harm living things) where he hit his head and groaned. After the second spell landed, Black was stuck frozen in his helpless position as the Slytherins began to clap.

"Ennervate!" Remus shouted briskly, tearing down the wards with a swish.* "Well done!

Sirius got up with a hand to his head, while Snape smirked on with his glittering eyes.

"Now, I'd like you all to find a partner, and we'll be around presently to assist if the need arises." Lupin said.

There was a general chatting and moving around as everyone fought to find partners.

Ginny claimed the Boy-Who-Lived, Hermione partnered with Theo, Daphne and Tracey,...Luna looked longingly at Hasan with her wide silvery eyes, blonde hair around her pale skin...well that was ironic, because so was Draco!

Hasan shrugged. He didn't have a preference either way.

"I'll just go with Ron. He looks lonely." Luna said softly, sad and yet not sad, as she walked sympathetically up to the redhead. Hasan turned to Draco, jade eyes blinking innocently.

"Partners?" Draco queried.

"Okay."

The club practiced for a half an hour before they had to leave for curfew. Compared to the opening duel, their own spells were much tamer, especially since the main focus was the disarming charm. Hasan found that he liked the club, always having a great enthusiasm (which translates to apathy) for survival tools. Self preservation was possibly Hasan's top priority, and the club also reminded him of training with Altair, divided by three...and then three again... Draco wasn't half bad however, and even shot a jelly-legs jinx. Hasan had, of course, sidestepped the poorly aimed spell, but it had hit Millicent Bullstrode and she practically danced into Pansy, with her wobbly legs, and crushed her.

After the meeting, Hasan managed to get word to Luna, but Ginny was still too close to Neville. Sighing, Hasan wondered when he would next get to ask Neville to meet him for Animagus training, and also request for him to sneak into the Restricted Section.

He was still suspicious about the whole fragment of Voldemort in a book thing, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt if he talked to it tonight...

.oOo.

After Herbology, Hasan met Neville outside the greenhouse to talk about the Room of Requirement. Neville was overjoyed at the prospect of being an Animagus, and Hasan was eager to transform again. He hadn't dared inside Hogwarts...yet. For what if someone found him? Or reported him? Or worse, kept him?

Plus, it was good to use as leverage with Snape. Which reminded him, he had to go to Snape's office on Saturday.

"So you'll be there?" Hasan asked again.

Neville gave a nod. "'Course. I'll see you later, Hasan."

Later came soon enough, after classes and dinner, and Neville found himself pacing like an idiot in front of a clearly unmarked wall.

"I need a place to study in peace and where no time passes. I need a place to study in peace and where no time passes. I need a place to study in peace and where no time passes..." Neville muttered, eyes clenched tight. He pivoted for the last time before gazing at the wall in awe. For it wasn't unmarked, but held a very distinct and elegant sort of door. The Room of Requirement! Triumph rose in Neville's heart as he tugged it open.

Inside was a large, almost impossibly large to have fit in that wall, room, with comfy plum coloured couches, a cream rug, tables, stacks of Animagus books, and mirrors.

"Whoa." Neville gasped. This most certainly was not here before.

"I know, lovely, isn't it?" Luna murmured. She had just stepped into the room, but held the door open behind her. Neville raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh! Yes, Hasan and Draco are coming in a moment."

It happened as she predicted, (the correct term would be sensed), and the two Slytherins came strolling into the Room of Requirement, nods of appreciation making Neville flush.

"Wow, whoever made this did a pretty good job." Draco said.

"Neville did. He also made time stand still!" Luna eagerly replied.

Hasan turned to Neville and gave a smile a reward. "I like it. So shall we see how far you are, and then Draco and I can run about here without a care."

"Sounds good to me." Draco said. "So just how far along are you, Longbottom?"

The four moved to the seats, Luna and Neville on one couch and Draco and Hasan on the other.

"Er, well thanks again for the present, Hasan." Neville began. "I can get myself to imagine me as an animal. But I don't have a preference to what I want to be. It's your soul animal, right, because 'animus' is soul and 'magi' is wizard?"

Hasan nodded. "Yes, though you could have come to the same conclusion if you had used 'animus' as animal. But basically, you still need to be able to envision yourself. You can't expect the magic to do all the work, can you? It needs to feed off of your wants as a guide."

"Alright." Neville said slowly. "So you're a fox because you are...discreet, and Draco is a lynx because-?"

"He wants to be majestic and beautiful." Hasan supplied blandly. "Think about what being an Animagus would mean to you. Would you use it to sneak around? Survive undercover? Or be able to kill?"

"Hasan?" Luna piped up. "If your Patronus and Animagus are the same, isn't your Animagus supposed to be protective?"

"Killing's protective." Draco muttered.

"That's a good observation, a nice correlation." Hasan said. "But I'm afraid that they aren't the same at all. You see, while your Patronus can change, your Animagus cannot. One is your protector, one is yourself. Most witches and wizards find that there is direct connection, however, most people are not Animagus, and only powerful witches and wizards can create a fully corporeal Patronus. Therefore, the hypothesis is inconclusive."

"Um, English, please?" Draco asked teasingly.

"Oh, alright." Luna said. "Will you teach us to cast a Patronus? I saw you try on the train, but I'm sure you'll improve with the right training."

Hasan bit his lip. So she had known, heard, or sensed what he was up to with Snape. But did she know what he was giving in return? It didn't appear so, and Luna had had these types of divine knowledge before.

"Really?" Neville gaped. "That would be...wonderful, if you could!"

"Of course." Hasan agreed airily. "As soon as I am able."

"So where are you, Luna?" Neville asked. "You've been reading books nonstop!"

"I quite like animals." Luna confessed. "My father's crazy about them and mythology. Sometimes I think he confuses himself and publishes odd things in his magazine...But I think I'd do well as something small, like Hasan."

"What? Is mine too big?" Draco joked.

"Yes." Luna responded seriously. "But very pretty."

The four continued to chat about where the two would go from here before Draco decided to transform on the spot.

"Sure, I'll continue to think." Neville said, drawing a book from the pile. "Whoa, Draco!" Their eyes snapped to the larger-than-they-remembered pure white lynx. There was admittedly some black points at the ears, but no one really paid any heed to them.

"Bonne chance, mes amis." Hasan bowed, changing into the fox with ease, and yet, he was different.

"Ooh! Hasan, you grew!" Luna gushed. "I think you aged. But now I won't be able to put you in my bag...perhaps in my robes?"

Draco gagged in an imitation of a hairball and Neville burst into a fit of laughs.

"Maybe not." Luna smiled.

Hasan's emerald eyes blinked up at her before Draco batted him playfully on the shoulder. Hasan whipped around and locked him with his gaze, then leapt onto his face. Draco easily tossed the fox off, but Hasan landed with all the reflexes of his training, his birth, and his transformation. They started at it again, wrestling and growling, until Neville decided to hide behind the couch to read.

Finally, the two were exhausted. They changed back silently, smiling at each other and shook hands. Hasan's grin didn't quite meet his dull jade eyes, but Draco's were molten silver. The adrenaline, it was exhilarating! It was just like quidditch, but better. Hasan much preferred to have both his feet, all his paws, firmly on the ground, especially when the dementors were flying about. Also, if Sirius Black's (boring filler) story was true, then the dementors wouldn't have such an effect on him.

As they dispersed, still right after dinner, Hasan's mind returned to the very first encounter he had had with the vile creatures...what had happened? Who was that voice? And how were they related to the diary?

He wondered if he should try and get close to a dementor again, but then thought that was an idiotic way to die. He didn't trust the headmaster's reassurances that they were perfectly safe and docile, with orders not to harm any of the students...So who could he talk to?

Altair had given him strict instructions not to contact him (unless he was dying), and Severus didn't really need to be concerned over his mind, right? Besides, he didn't even know if Severus was a Legilimens and he didn't exactly want someone else poking about in there. Not with what he knew. Not with what he hid. If Snape knew he was Harry Potter, not only would he probably run to the headmaster, but he'd hate him for being James Potter's offspring! Lupin and Black would also know, Hasan remembered with horror, and he certainly didn't want to be close to people just because they knew his dead father!

Then...perhaps the diary?

.oOo.

It was finally the weekend and Severus Snape couldn't have been happier. He had been in his chambers all morning, basking in his well-deserved break from all the dunderheads in the school. Hasan was set to arrive at 3 and Snape needed all the time he could get.

Altair was still missing. Dumbledore couldn't be budged on the issue of searching for Potter. Lucius was unresponsive. And to top it off, blasted Dumbledore and his epiphany of a Dueling Club. Well, last meeting hadn't been so bad; Sirius was still licking his wounds in the morning. Snape thought with a smirk. But even if he still hated Black, he hated it more that he was actually beginning to...be fond of Lupin. He had just finished brewing the Wolfsbane for the month of November, and hopefully he could relay some information gleaned from this meeting with Hasan, to receive more information from Lupin...on Hasan. How had his life come to this? He didn't even pay this much attention to his own godson, and that was saying much, because he practically analyzed Draco's every move.

A knock at the door came exactly as his clock struck 3.

"Well, well, Mr. Castell, eager to be here, are you?" Severus greeted as he flicked open the door with his wand. Hasan stepped into the office gracefully, brown braid thrown across his right shoulder, and jade green eyes flickering dully beneath his lashes.

"Not particularly." Hasan replied dryly. He shut the door behind him and sat down in his usual seat. Snape swallowed.

"I was actually hoping that we could move to be a little more comfortable." Snape strode over to where his chambers lay, tapped the wall while muttering the password, and a door appeared similar to the Room of Requirement. Snape raised an eyebrow; the boy didn't move. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, just get in here!"

The interior of the lodging was rather...nice. What with stone walls, hanging tapestries, bookshelves, a coffee table, red rug and brown leather couches. There was also a comfortable looking armchair to the side which Hasan immediately gravitated to. Severus settled himself on the end of one couch so as to better converse with the queer child.

"Do you live here all the time?" Hasan asked.

"Yes."

"You own no deeds to any other properties?"

"I do." Snape said. "But let us talk about you."

Hasan's eyes widened fractionally. "I'm not very interesting at all."

"That's to be determined." Snape replied smugly. "Now, what is your Animagus? And who are you planning to use all the doses on?"

"Shall I show you?" Hasan asked, and after barely receiving the beginning of a nod, a little black fox sat in the seat Hasan had just occupied.

Snape's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "An adolescent fox?"

Well, that was one way to put it. Hasan raised his head, and Snape had another heart attack. Those emerald eyes. He had seen them once in the chamber with the stone...and then when Hasan had asked, they were the exact shade as the Avada Kedavra. Compared to his normal jade, these were downright fatal. Hasan sensed his unease and shifted back fluidly.

"It appears the potion has worked." Snape said thickly.

"Thank you." Hasan said. "It was above my ability."

Well obviously it was above the boy's ability. It was a statement, not a compliment...and wait, the boy knew this. He wasn't flattering the man, just speaking.

"And the other question?" Snape pressed.

"And the Patronus?" Hasan countered. The boy was so damning methodical! It had been Snape's turn, now it was Hasan's, and Snape was positive the boy wasn't going to divert from this pattern.

"The incantation is 'Expecto Patronum.' Now, who are you-" but the boy was shaking his head. "What?" Snape growled.

"I asked to learn to make a fully corporeal Patronus." Hasan reminded him. "I can already cast a wisp. Snape started in surprise but quickly caught himself.

"Show me." he demanded.

Hasan slid his wand into his hand and muttered the incantation. A silvery mist came from his wand, but nothing remotely in the shape of an animal. And yet, Snape was looking for all the world as if he had.

"Impressive." he said finally. "What memory did you think of?"

"Is that your question, Professor?" Hasan asked.

"No, this is helping you to learn." Severus sighed. Hasan thought about it a minute, deemed it a stretch, but nodded.

"I don't." Hasan replied.

"You don't what?"

"I don't think of anything. Am I supposed to?"

Severus was full on gaping now. "Of course you're supposed to! How else would one make a Patronus?" Hasan arched a brow and Snape continued. "You must think of the happiest memory you can remember. Let the joy wash through you."

It was comical really, how Severus was talking of joy and yet his face was so stern and condemning.

"Happy?" Hasan murmured. "Like the mirror of Erised?"

"I-" Snape frowned. "The mirror shows your heart's desire. Not a memory."

Hasan bit his lip. "Right..." And yet, Hasan was positive that there was a memory somewhere with a bright emerald light...

"Now, if you could answer my initial question?" Snape asked impatiently.

Hasan tilted his head to the side. "The doses? That hardly seems fair. I'd be indicting my friends. And besides, you gave me what I needed."

Snape's glare stopped his thoughts in their tracks.

"You agreed, Mr. Castell."

"Oh, please do humor me, Professor. We're Slytherin after all." the boy smirked. "But as you wish: Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood."

"Why would you include the Longbottom boy?" Snape burst out appalled before he could help himself. Neville still managed to botch every other potion and that was with the muggleborn, Hermione's, help.

"Because he's the Boy-Who-Lived." Hasan answered nonchalantly, watched Snape's hardening demeanor. "Of course," Hasan continued, knowing he was treading in thin ice, "so is everyone else, when it comes down to it."

Snape exhaled slowly and Hasan knew, then and there, that Snape at least knew Neville was a farce. Did all the professors know? Or had Snape done some private investigating? Was Snape in Dumbledore's 'inner circle' or was Snape rogue?

"What are you suggesting, Mr. Castell?" Snape asked lightly.

"You know very well." Hasan said, and left it at that.

The two stared at each other, onyx against jade, before Hasan asked presently, "How are you supposed to deduce the happiest memory?"

Snape seemed to unfreeze himself. "Must I explain everything?" he sighed.

"But my memories aren't sorted into happy and unhappy." Hasan protested with wide eyes. "They are sorted into was and are, and me and others, and important and not important. Why would I have happy and unhappy?"

Snape stared; how hard was it to find a happy memory? It didn't even need to be remotely passionate if the boy managed to make a non-corporeal Patronus.

"Right now, what is the happiest memory you can possibly recall to mind?" Snape asked, deciding to walk Hasan through from the beginning. "Any memory!" cried Snape, growing desperate. "Getting Raven, perhaps?"

Hasan sighed. He really couldn't do this now in front of the professor. He would have to sit alone in a quiet place and search though his mind. It required absolute focus, and he didn't trust the professor enough to let his guard down one bit.

"May we resume next time? I need time to think." Hasan delivered the ultimatum. "By the by, your chambers are very nice...Au revoir, Professor!"

.oOo.

Severus was left in deep thought for hours after the jade eyes boy had left. No happy memories? What person had no happy memories? And what type of person could cast even a wisp of a Patronus without a memory, happy or otherwise?

It made sense though, that Hasan with his dull eyes, felt as little as he appeared to have felt. Yet as head of the Slytherin House, Severus knew better than most how a mask was designed and utilized. Hasan might not appear overjoyed, but that didn't mean he was a doll!

But Hasan had seemed so genuine. He had agreed to this exchange with Severus to learn how to make a corporeal Patronus. It didn't make sense for him to pretend he couldn't cast a Patronus...unless he wanted to hand Snape the information. But even that didn't make sense! Slytherins did things for their own benefit; what would Hasan gain from Snape's being well-informed? What power did Snape have that Hasan wished to use?

Severus Snape was inches away from summoning his firewhiskey, when a knock signaled Lupin's arrival. He was never so happy to see the wolf in his life! A wave of his hand opened both his office door and his chamber door, and Snape called out an invitation for Lupin to join him in the sitting room.

Lupin's mildly surprised face peaked into his chambers, before the rest of his body followed.

"Severus?" Remus asked, concern evident in his voice. He'd never been invited this far inside Severus' quarters before, as it was a privilege only given to friends, and Remus was definitely not what Severus Snape considered a friend.

"Your potion's on my desk." Snape informed expectantly.

"I saw...I'm sorry, I haven't noticed anything odd about Hasan lately. I am worried, but not as worried. It's been a while and he blends in with all the others. Although I did see him with Miss Lovegood at the Dueling Club. She's a first year, isn't she?"

"Yes." But this was nothing knew: If Hasan intended to give her a vial of the Animagus potion, then they must have been friends..."Lupin," he began again. "Are you positive that Hasan's boggart turned into a ring?"

Lupin nodded, then frowned. "That's what it appeared to be."

He wasn't sure where this was going, but Snape wasn't known to jump around topics. Obviously Snape knew something Lupin didn't. "What am I not seeing?"

Severus looked up at him and locked his gaze.

"Are you aware, Remus, of a popular muggle book series known as The Lord of the Rings?"

Lupin blinked in surprise. While shunned from Wizarding society, Lupin had immersed himself in muggle culture and had indeed learned of the book. Yet he hadn't had the time to actually read it.

"Yes. The premise if it. Wait a minute, Snape, do you mean to suggest that the ring Hasan conjured was the One ring?" Lupin asked in disbelief. "There are other possibil-"

"I'm sure," Snape interrupted snidely, "But pray, what is the One ring and what importance does it have to the series?"

"Well, it's the basis for all the books." Lupin started, never having imagined he'd be explaining the plot of a muggle book series to Severus Snape of all people! "The prelude, The Hobbit, er, a short man creature, is about Bilbo who finds the ring of power. The trilogy focusses on the journey to destroy the ring in Mordor, all in order to keep it from the evil wizard, Sauron."

Snape was still frowning. "And the reason everyone is bent on destroying it?"

"Well, it holds power, amazing power, but it's dark and seductive. It commands all of the lower rings too, and the nine dead human bearers called the Ringwraiths or the Nazguls. You see, people can't see these Nazguls unless..." It seemed Lupin had just realized something for he winced and looked away.

"Yes?" Severus pressed, reluctant to admit he sounded somewhat desperate. Remus had obviously had an epiphany, so what was it that was so alarming? Or so obvious?

"Well, you can't see them unless you wear the ring. But throughout the prelude and to all the others characters, the ring was only known to render the wearer invisible."

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 14: Draco's Curiosity

It was the beginning of December and it was cold enough now that Tracey had just pulled on a blue cloak, overtop her witches robes. She sat alone on the Slytherin couch, wondering where on earth everyone was these days.

Theo had been spending a suspicious amount of time in the library, while Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken to stalking Neville and confronting him at opportune moments.

Daphne and Millicent were in the common room, however, playing Exploding Snap in the corner, while Blaise Zabini and Draco engaged in a round of wizards chess.

But all of the older students were out on a Hogsmeade weekend, the ones without permission making themselves scarce around the school, and the younger snakes were too intimidated by the second years to hang out in the common room.

"Hey, Draco. Have you seen Hasan recently?" Tracey asked presently to the near empty room. The blonde's head snapped up in surprise and he gave a careless shrug.

"It's not like I keep track of him!" Draco defended himself. "But the last time I checked, his dorm room was still closed."

He jumped his knight and stole a pawn.

"Well, you do spend an awful lot of time with him." Blaise remarked. "Do you think he's writing letters?"

Letters to who? Hasan was particularly tight-lipped about his home life, and Lucius had been extremely unspecific. Watch out for Hasan, yeah, clear concise instructions...And while it was a possibility, Draco had the distinct feeling that Hasan was not indeed corresponding with anyone.

"Wouldn't he have brought Raven, though?" Daphne enquired. "I saw her this morning at the Owlery while sending a card to my aunt. Funny how last year we scarcely saw the little bird at all."

"Well, if he barely sent post last year and his owl was gone, then he's certainly not sending anything now with his owl here." Blaise said. "So..."

"So what could he be doing?" Tracey repeated. "But, I guess it doesn't matter. We all need privacy now and then. Hey, I'm going to the kitchens, anyone want to come with me?"

"Oh! I'll come!" Millie screamed, hopping up with joy. Daphne nodded too and repacked the game with a flick of her wand.

"Yeah, suppose we get to try more of those treacle tarts? They were lovely last night!"

The three girls exited the dungeons, leaving Blaise and Draco alone in the common room.

"Checkmate." Draco said in a bored tone of voice. His bishop had taken down his queen and was eagerly snarling at the frightened king.

Blaise sighed. "Yeah, alright. You win again, Draco." He glanced around the common room and shrugged. "I think I should drag Theo out of the library now. His brains are going to be fried before Monday."

Draco nodded dumbly. "Sure." He knew that Theo and Hermione often met to study in the safe vicinity of the library, but also knew that Blaise was still uneasy about the whole mudblood thing. Once Blaise was out of the room, Draco moved his bishop to take the king; the bishop smiled archly and beat the king to dust.

A wand wave later and the pieces were whole again, sitting neatly and inanimately in their box. Draco sighed and glanced towards the dorms. He might as well.

Draco lifted himself off the armchair and headed up the stairs, finally reaching the second level and staring at Hasan's closed door. What was he doing in there? Did his father have a basis to be suspicious? Or was Draco being unfair and a terrible friend?

Then again, Draco was lonely. Everyone had run out on him, and while Longbottom would probably welcome his company, he didn't have a whole lot of real friends to turn to.

He raised his arm and knocked thrice in quick succession, listening intently for a response.

"Hasan?" he called, knocking again.

"Oh, come in, Draco." Hasan's soft voice floated out, and the door opened slowly.

Draco peaked his head around inside and noticed Hasan sitting at his desk, quill in hand, and a book sitting in front of him. So, not a letter then.

"What are you doing?" Draco enquired, stalking closer to the boy.

"Nothing of importance." Hasan said. "Unless you can specify your question."

The boy seemed wholly absorbed by what was written on the page, but as Draco peered over his shoulder, he saw that the page was blank!

"Er-"

Hasan suddenly snapped the book shut and turned to face the Malfoy heir.

"May I help you?" he asked simply. Not accusingly and yet not politely.

"No, we were just concerned."

"There's no need to be." said Hasan, visibly relaxing. "Have Luna or Neville contacted you for the next Animagus meeting?"

Draco shook his head. "No, though I think we should have it next month, the day after the Dueling Club."

Hasan nodded slowly as if considering.

"That sounds delightful." Hasan said blankly. "Perhaps we can alert them with a charm in the future." He stared down at the book a moment before biting his lip. "Have you heard of the Protean charm? Is it dark?"

"Protean? How did you-" Draco asked before his eyes fell on the book. "Hey, isn't that Father's? I've only seen it once or twice, lying on his desk or something, but there aren't many Tom Marvolo Riddles, are there?" Draco observed.

"What is given as a gift no longer belongs to the original owner." Hasan smiled lightly. "Now the Protean charm?" he asked briskly.

"Well a charm's a charm. It isn't really light or dark, but it certainly isn't what people consider bad." Draco said slowly. "That's actually a good idea. Suppose we give Lovegood and Longbottom something with the charm?"

"Precisely." Hasan said. "So what do you suppose we can use? Something that everyone has and won't cause suspicion?"

"A piece of jewelry?" Malfoy suggestive hopefully.

Hasan sighed, leave it to a Malfoy to think that jewelry was inconspicuous. Then again, Luna was a girl, and Neville was bound to wear adornments (or have a few quirks) as the Boy-Who-Lived...Draco certainly wore enough shiny things, and that was only because he was pureblood! Neville could surely get away for being both.

"I believe that will be possible." Hasan concurred thoughtfully. "So will you please tell them?"

Draco nodded slightly, "Yeah I'll go right now." He knew a dismissal when he saw one, and Hasan was definitely tiring of his company. (Not that he was too enthusiastic to begin with.) Draco backed out the door and shut it softly behind him, before strolling down to the library. Hopefully Gryffindors and Ravenclaws liked to read...

.oOo.

Draco strode purposefully down the corridors, eyes open for the Lovegood-Longbottom duo. He knew that the Lovegood's were an old pureblood family, but somehow they had dropped from so called 'good' society when the Quibbler began to publish drivel about Voldemort being a woodland fairy...

"Oof!" He stepped back, blinking in surprise.

"Malfoy!" Ron snarled, scrambling to retrieve his wand. "Watch where you're going you spoiled prat!"

"I could say the same to you, Weasel." Draco drawled, brushing imaginary Weasley germs from his person. Ron's face, if possible, got even redder.

"Expel-!"

"What is going on here?" Black boomed, skidding into the hall. His eyes caught sight of Draco and he straightened up considerably. "Malfoy!"

Oh, this was not good.

"Malfoy was about to attack him, sir!" Lavender Brown piped up from the corner, cheeks cupped by her hands. "I saw the whole thing, Mr. Black! Malfoy nearly knocked him down!"

"Y-yeah!" Ron shouted, jutting his chin out. Draco fought not to roll his eyes.

"Just because you can do everything you want at home-!" Sirius started.

"-Hey! What's going on here?" Lupin entered the scene, looking around with mild interest. His eyes caught Draco on the receiving end of Sirius' rage and something akin to recognition flickered within those soft brown depths. "Siri?"

Sirius sighed and seemed to deflate. "Lavender saw the whole event play out-"

"-oh, not all of it." Lavender quickly amended, uncomfortable under Lupin's enquiring gaze.

"Then what did you see, Miss Brown?" Remus asked, efficiently cutting Sirius off.

"W-well, I." Lavender gulped. "I just saw Ron bump into something."

Lupin nodded kindly. "I see. And this thing would be Mr. Malfoy, correct?"

Draco stared at the professor, wondering if he was going to be believed against four Gryffindors. No one liked snakes, it was common knowledge.

"Siri, if Ron needs it, will you please escort him to the Hospital Wing to get his...injuries looked at? Mr. Malfoy, if you would come with me please."

"But Remus-!"

Lupin fixed him with a pointed look, and Sirius led Ron away with a sigh.

"You know I-" Draco tried, striding less than proudly behind the DADA professor.

Surprisingly, Remus turned and smiled. "Relax, Draco. Professor Snape just wishes to talk to you."

Draco was anything but relaxed.

.oOo.

Lupin led a stoic (panicking) Draco Malfoy down to the Potions master's office with a smug, almost laughing grin on his face. Draco, however, was stiff as a statue as the wolf knocked and Severus opened the door.

"What is it now, Lupin?" he snapped. Remus smiled and moved aside to reveal the blonde boy. Severus froze.

"I found Draco fighting with Ron in the corridor."

Draco didn't even try to protest. Sev would believe him, he always did.

"Indeed." Snape said, lips barely moving. "Well get in, Draco. If you'll excuse us?"

Lupin left obediently, though he had a rather distinct spring in his step.

"Sev?" Draco ventured, "Can you believe that the Weas-"

He stopped short as Snape raised a brow. "Draco, you're not here for that."

"...Oh..."

Severus broke into a smile that actually made him look human. "Why don't we sit in the sitting room?"

The two made themselves comfortable on opposite chairs, the fireplace dull and empty between them.

"Why am I here?" Draco asked. "And why does Lupin know?"

Severus sighed. "It's not important that the- that Lupin knows-" Goodness! He was really tired if he could slip in front of his godson! "-What's important is that there's something I need you to do for me."

Draco's silvery eyes bugged out of his head. Sure, this was his father's best friend, his own godfather, but right now things were looking pretty hazy.

"Like what?" Draco asked slowly. Snape was taken aback by how suspicious the boy sounded, when only last year he would practically have jumped at the chance to strut his authority and connections.

"Your friend Hasan Castell-"

"Yes what about Hasan?" Draco asked a bit too quickly.

"If you could let me finish, you'd know." Snape said as kindly as he could, whereas if he was dealing with Longbottom, the boy's head would be on a platter right now. Draco was about to apologize but shut his mouth, instead watching Severus with curiosity. "Has Hasan ever mentioned a series of muggle books known as The Lord of the Rings?"

Draco licked his lips. "Yeah, he got the whole series for Christmas last year. From his father."

Now it was Snape's turn to be interested.

"Indeed...do you know where he keeps them?"

"Yes, but why do you need them?"

Ah! So the boy did inherit a brain after all.

"Hasan is particularly quiet about his family isn't he?"

Draco nodded. It was just one of the things he always wondered about. Hasan was practically included in his family, so why was Hasan always so snobbish about not sharing anything about his?

"Yes." Draco admitted bitterly.

"I need you to bring me those books."

"What?" Draco exclaimed. "Why? Some people like their privacy, you know..." He didn't know why he was defending Hasan on a point that he himself would like to yell about, but this was different. Severus was an outsider. This was between him and Hasan.

"Privacy means nothing when it comes to safety." Snape said lightly. "I cannot tell you why I need those books, but that I do. Draco, look at me."

Reluctant silver met obsidian and Draco relented. He was a little bit upset at Severus' prying, but even more upset by the fact that Hasan was keeping things from him. "Alright, Sev. But this is the last time."

He nodded curtly. "Have them on my desk before dinner. And thank you Draco."

"Of course," Draco answered slowly, before walking from the room.

The request was odd, Snape had to admit it, but it was necessary. It was not just the books that Snape needed, but possible clues scattered about it. When Severus was in Hogwarts, he had inscribed millions of little hints in his Potions text, improvements, inventions, spells...but if one read carefully enough, one would be able to piece together a small diary of his life. Who his enemies were, what had happened to him, what had happened to them. He was sure the book was around here somewhere, and he knew he could just summon it, but some part of him actually wanted someone to find it...someone to read what he had written, someone to share in his discoveries, and someone to understand him. But this was all wishful thinking. He hadn't even tried summoning it yet, and hadn't the faintest idea where it could have gone...perhaps it was best.

But now wasn't really the time to get nostalgic. He had papers to grade, essays to mark, and oh! Dear Salazar, another Dueling Club to prepare for.

.oOo.

Hasan tucked the diary beside his Lord of the Rings books, inside of his drawer. He thought a minute, wondering if the Protean charm would really be worth trying, and what it would be worth trying on. And then it struck him, what better piece of jewelry to add the charm on but rings?

The idea was so perfectly brilliant that Hasan actually jumped for joy. He could transfigure rings easily. He grabbed four tissues from his trunk and tapped them each with his wand, "Creanulo! Proteanus!"

The tissues shriveled into rings, hardening and gaining that silver gleam before glowing red with the Protean charm. Tom had said to push magical intent into the object in order for it to work. It made sense, but Hasan was wary about giving something to anything. Then again, he used to wand on a daily basis and there were innumerable curses one could place on a wand. Hello, this is Hasan, he thought, and gasped as the words engraved themselves on the metal rings. They burned softly, enough to alert the wearer of a message, yet not enough to actually harm someone, before the message dimmed and faded.

"Fascinating." Hasan hadn't imagined it would work so easily! He tucked three in his robe pocket, sliding one onto his right hand ring finger with ease. As a last thought, he cast an adjustment spell on them to fit the wearer, before heading out in search of Luna, Neville, and Draco.

He passed an irritated Ron with a furious Lavender by his side.

"Damn Lupin." Lavender was muttering, all the while attempting to hold hands with the boy. The twins were further down the corridor, waving to Cedric Diggory and his girlfriend, Cho Chang.

"Aww, poor Ronald!" Fred cooed, messing up Ron's hair fondly.

"Don't make fun of him!" Lavender screeched, hugging Ron in a headlock.

George looked to his twin and grinned.

"Fine, we've got much more interesting stuff to do anyway, isn't that right, oh brother of mine?"

"Yes, indeed it is George! Hogsmeade is awaiting!"

"But mum didn't sign your forms!" Ron yelled. "Oh, forget it!"

The twins skipped jovially past the couple before stopping in front of a blank faced Hasan.

"Hey, what are you doing out here? Aren't you little snakeys in your common room all the time?" Fred teased.

"Aren't you forbidden to go to Hogsmeade without a form?" Hasan countered. "I'm looking for Luna and Neville, if you must know. Have you seen them?"

"Oh!" George exclaimed. "We can answer both questions at once, can't we, Fred?"

"Or rather, this can!"

Hasan was staring at them questioningly, until they backed up to a wall and Fred discreetly took out an old wad of paper from inside his robes.

"This my friend," George began in a dramatic whisper, "Is the Marauder's Map!"

Luna's words shot through Hasan just then: If it's wanting to know the secrets of the castle, I think the twins would be helpful...but I'm not sure why. Ask them for a spare bit of parchment after class I suppose.

"A spare bit of parchment?" Hasan echoed, taking the proffered 'map' with deference. It didn't look like much, but Hasan of all people knew not to judge by appearances.

"Oh, much more than that our Slytherin buddy! Watch!" Fred tapped the edge of the map with his wand and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"

Suddenly there were lines and arrows and names being drawn across the map like it was covered in wax and had just been dunked in ink. Invisible passages, rooms, offices took form on the 2-D drawing, and Hasan nearly jumped back in surprise as he saw the dots blossoming across the page, their dots labeled with their names.

"We nicked it from Filch years ago!" George added proudly. "So to answer your question, there are many ways of getting into Hogsmeade. We prefer to go through a mirror on the fourth floor, but we may have to switch 'cause it looks about to cave! As for your search, Luna and Neville are in trophy room, not sure why."

"Thank you." Hasan said politely. "Do you know who created the map? Their real names, I mean?"

The twins exchanged glances and pointed down at the map. "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs...I would reckon past Hogwarts students. Bloody geniuses, they must have been the best pranksters ever!"

"They're our idols, if you couldn't tell." Fred added. "But...Are you thinking what I'm thinking George?"

"Besides buying out Zonkos? Yeah, I'm getting that feeling too."

"What?" Hasan asked stupidly as the twins turned to him with smug grins.

"Well, we've already learned everything we could. Memorized it front and back." Fred said.

"But right now, we kind of get the sense that it's time to move on. Make our own waves, you know? So we humbly present to you, Hasan Castell, the Marauder's Map!"

"Me? Really?" Hasan asked. The map was a beauty, perfectly proportioned and labeled...he could watch the little dots move around for hours! He didn't see the Room of Requirement on it, though he did spot a total of seven secret ways into and out of Hogwarts.

"To clear it, just tap it with your wand and say 'Mischief Managed!'" George said. "Good luck. I sense you will do great things!" He winked and the two were off to the staircase.

Hasan stared down at the map in his hands and smiled. This would be very convenient indeed. He'd be able to research in the Restricted section himself, without Neville or his invisibility cloak. (All it took was a good disillusionment charm, really.) Very pleased, and yet anxious to give Luna and Neville the rings, Hasan set off towards the trophy room, the Marauder's map folded neatly in his pocket.

.oOo.

Draco stalked back to the dorms, overly cautious about being caught. He needn't have worried though, for the common room was mostly empty but for the love birds come to snog. Draco took the stairs two at a time, quietly on his toes, wondering if this was how Hasan felt sometimes, trying his hardest not to be seen, and paranoid as hell.

Finally, Draco reached his room and knocked before entering. It was vacant and Draco breathed out in relief. Thank Merlin!

He spotted the large, hard-backed books on the shelf and carefully pulled them out, not expecting a small leather-bound diary to come toppling to the ground as well. And not just any diary.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." Draco breathed, reaching out instinctually for the book. The few times he had seen it at home, his father had snapped at him to go play outside or study. It seemed that no one wanted him to see what was inside. He shrank the muggle books and stuffed them into his pocket unconsciously as he flipped through the diary. Blank!

The whole thing was blank! But he remembered Hasan reading something in it...perhaps it was magical? Well, really, Draco? He chided himself. He chanced a glance towards the door and decided to get moving. Give the books to Snape and figure out the diary later. He raced back to his godfather's, plopped the books on the desk, and ran back to his own dorm in under five minutes! A quick privacy charm later, and Draco had the diary flat out on his desk, opened to the first page. He grabbed for a quill, wondering if this would backfire in some way. Probably not. It was just a book.

Even so, he held his breath while the ink splattered onto the page, not knowing what he was waiting for, just that he knew something was supposed to happen. Anything! He wasn't disappointed: within seconds, the ink had faded and a message had surfaced from within.

"Learn to not drip, won't you Hasan?" Draco was gaping. What in Salazar's name was this? "Hello? Hasan?"

Draco dipped his quill again and scrawled eagerly, "Hasan's not here right now. My name is Draco Malfoy. Who are you?"

The book could write. The freakin' diary could write! This had dark magic written all over it...so why had Hasan had it? (His father was known to own a few questionable items. But surely no Hasan.)

"Draco Malfoy?" the diary repeated. "A pleasure. My name is Tom Riddle. What happened to Hasan?" he asked quickly.

"Hasan?" Draco asked, almost hurt. "Why do you need him?"

"Oh, I see..."

"See what?" Draco demanded.

"Nothing...nothing he wants you to know anyway. I haven't even heard of you before...but I've heard of the Longbottom boy. The Boy-Who-Lived, indeed."

Draco was speechless, hurt, confused, angry. The book was goading him, and yet, it was just a book. So what if Hasan didn't tell his diary about him? So what if it knew about Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived, but not him...

"Who else did he tell you about?" Draco asked shrewdly. "What would you gain from it anyway?"

"Ah, another Slytherin, then. Sorry Draco, I know how to keep my secrets...but I am curious. While you're here, what can you tell me about Hasan Castell?"

"Why?"

"He just feels familiar, that's all." the diary wrote. "In exchange, perhaps I'll let you in on a secret. Perhaps...but I am such a curious person, maybe we'll start with Hasan and then go to the present teachers? Tell me, is that fool Dumbledore still here?"

A deal? A secret? What was Hasan hiding that this book was willing to divulge? What were all those hours hiding in his room? Tantalus never got this close, did he?

And Draco began to write...

"Yes, I doubt Dumbledore will ever leave..."

.oOo.

Hasan strode into the trophy room, immediately spotting Neville and Luna in her bright red pea coat.

"Hasan!" Luna called. "I had a feeling you would like to see this."

"See what?" Hasan asked, drawing closer to the pair.

Neville pointed to one of the trophies in the case, where upon closer inspection, sat an old dusty quidditch award dating from 1974.

"James Potter wins, earning Gryffindor the House Cup." Luna informed him. "Hey, what's in your hand?"

"Oh. These are rings." Hasan said. "They have the Protean charm on them, so when we have a meeting, we can communicate with them."

Neville grinned and took his from Hasan's open palm. "Wow, how much was-?"

"We are magical, Neville. If you must know, a divide the price of a- What?" Hasan asked as Luna burst in a fit of giggles.

"Of course we're magical silly." she yelled, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist, face scrunched up in ecstasy. "Oh, that was funny! There isn't nearly enough laughter nowadays!"

Hasan gave her the ring and her hands seemed to linger a heartbeat longer.

"But magic is wonder, isn't it?" Luna said quietly. "When used properly. My mother died when I was nine. She experimented a little too much."

The room seemed to plunge below freezing and Neville shuffled awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry, Luna. I mean, I knew but..."

"It's alright, Neville." Luna said. "She knew it was time." She turned her wide silver eyes to Hasan and cracked a grin. "By the way, the full moon is this Wednesday. Some things are like that, half good and half bad, but I think the Dueling Club will have a meeting next Friday, so we should have a session on the next day!" Luna finished thoughtfully.

"Er..." Neville looked every bit as confused as he felt. "I'm going to see Hermione in the library before heading to bed."

"The password is 'wattlebird!'" Luna called sweetly after him. He nodded his thanks before scampering from the room. Sometimes Luna really weirded him out... "Did you talk to the twins yet? They were looking for someone to be their successors."

"Yes." Hasan answered, deeming it safe enough to take out. "By the way, how did you know?"

"Well, I didn't know exactly." Luna smiled. "But some things in this universe are unexplainable. But they happen for a reason, sometimes I get hints, you know? Why don't you check it now? I've got to make sure Hermione doesn't knit more hats. If you want one, I'm sure you can cast Engorgio to fit you..."

Luna waved god-bye, silver ring flashing on her finger, leaving Hasan to glance down at the map. Oh merciful Merlin! Sirius Black was headed straight-

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Hasan turned around slowly, making himself appear as nonchalant as possible. "Castell, isn't it? Hasan nodded.

"Hello, Mr. Black."

"Uh!" he shuddered. "Just Sirius is fine. If they must use my last name they might as well tack professor on the front."

Hasan knew that the Blacks were an ancient pureblood family (starting from muggles if the Black Blood Book was reliable) and that many of the Dark Lords supporters came from them. In fact, Draco was probably a distant cousin of Sirius'.

"If you wish." Hasan said.

"Well that's a first." Sirius remarked. "Usually people don't give a- well they don't care what I think. If it were up to Dumbledore, I'd be locked in Grimmauld Place twenty-four seven. Or better yet, Azkaban. Not that Hogwarts feels that homey with all the dementors around."

"You do not like the headmaster?" Hasan probed innocently, staring at the trophies with feigned interest.

"Like the man?" Sirius laughed. "What are you? Twelve, kid? I like the headmaster as a headmaster, but not as my bloody caretaker. The only reason I'm here is because of Remus and-" he paused and swallowed. "We're mates if you didn't know." he finished awkwardly, though it was stunningly obvious that he had amended his previous words.

"I know." Hasan said, which was true on both accounts. He thought back to what Luna said and repeated it back, "Some things are like that. Half good and half bad. I imagine the full moon can be cut right down the middle."

"Wha-wh-!" Sirius sputtered.

"Je suis désolé. I am sorry, did I offend you?" Hasan asked emotionlessly, sounding anything but remorseful.

"No, just. It was a shock is all." Sirius said with a nervous laugh, recovering easily. "You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?"

"If you define 'you' then perhaps I can give you an affirmative answer."

"Right...Well, Hasan Castell, are you a Gryffindor?"

Hasan shook his head and smiled. Ah! Specifications, much better!

"I'm a Slytherin, but I suppose you're a lion, yes?"

"Oh, so you're one of Snape's, the greasy bas-" Sirius sighed and quieted again. "Damn. I can't keep slipping up, Remy'll kill me."

Hasan watched this with curiosity. As nice as Remus was during class, it was quite obvious that the man had a back bone. He hadn't been afraid to cast a mass obliviation on his DADA class (sparing Hasan of course) or threaten Mr. Black, the seemingly reckless and dangerous substitute teacher. Then again, love did tend to bring the best out of people!

"So, er, what are you looking at?" Sirius began presently. "Oh! That was fifth year! I remember that game like it was yesterday. James always had this talent for flying. I was sure he was going to go pro, before, before, well, you know..."

"You cared about James a lot." Hasan stated the obvious.

"Yeah, still do. We made a group the four of us. Me, James, Remy, and that vermin Pettigrew." Sirius reminisced, staring across the display cases.

"There were four of you?" Hasan asked, recalling the names on the Marauder's Map. Peter was known to be a rat...Wormtail? And Padfoot? Sirius was a dog..."I have a map."

It took Black a moment to make sense of the unbelievably short sentences. "The Marauder's Map?" he breathed, astonished.

Hasan nodded and disclosed it from his robes. "It was nicked from Filch." Hasan said, failing to mention just who had nicked it.

"Oh, really? Wow, who knew that a Slytherin- Merlin! I really need to stop it with the House prejudices."

"So James was Prongs?" Hasan wondered, figuring that Lupin must have been Moony, as hard as it was to connect the two together. "Why?"

"Well, he was a stag. For an Animagus, I mean. It really was fate, I see it now: Lily was a doe, did you know that?" Sirius glanced towards the door. "You've got green eyes like hers, not, not like Lily's exactly, but green. Hers were vibrant, emerald green. Yours are...darker, maybe? Sorry. Sometimes it's just hard to forget." He glanced towards Hasan again and squinted. "No, not like Lily's at all. What am I thinking?"

Hasan sighed and bit his lip. "I wouldn't possibly know. Will the Dueling Club be next Friday?"

"Yes. Give Remy enough time to recover. We may even have you kids go up there and show us what you can do. It's about time, I can't keep fighting Snape and getting my arse handed to me. Sorry for the language, kiddo. But he's right fierce when he wants to be. He hasn't really changed from childhood at all. If anything, I think Azkaban took more out of me than I realized...but Hogwarts and Remy are trying. I know. It'll all get better eventually."

Hasan was quiet as the man poured out his thoughts, wondering about what Remus, Sirius, James, Severus, and Lily were like as kids. It seemed ages ago and yet only yesterday, even though he wasn't even born then.

"I'm weary. Bonne nuit." Hasan said somnolently. Sirius gaped as the kid stood up gracefully an stalked out of the room. What the hell?

"Night." Sirius said to no one in particular, and lay there, staring at the dusty trophies. His time had passed. It was time to grow up and be the man that Remus deserved.

.oOo.

Altair stared at the letter in his hand. It seemed Lucius was catching on fast.

"Why cannot I remember my wife? Were you aware that your son holds the Malfoy dagger? Are you Dark or Light?" Altair read aloud, wondering how best to answer these. The thing was, Altair needed something from Lucius, and Lucius needed little bits of encouragement, little incentives to keep him going. Not that a reminder of how desperate Lucius really was, hurt at all.

"Dearest Lucius,

You cannot recall your wife simply because I also occupy those memories. We were childhood friends, no, don't try asking, it'll just upset her. You see, she recalls nothing either. I specifically pinpointed those memories that circulated around her and me. Me, for obvious reasons, her, because I foresaw this moment and wished to spare you both pain. If you can recall but a few weeks ago, you will know that I have only removed such memories as to cause you danger. As you have no doubt found out, I am also Slytherin, which should answer all the other questions not under the first answer.

I was made aware just last summer that my son has been gifted with the Malfoy dagger. For this, I thank you for the love and support you have shown my son. If nothing else, your wealth.

As for the last. What constitutes Light and Dark? Dumbledore versus Voldemort? Dark Magic versus Charms? I will assume you mean the former, but please do be more specific. I fear I've taken after my son in this way. For your benefit, I will answer neither. Should I be grey or should I choose pink? Light and Dark? They mean nothing."

And now, Altair was ready to get down to business.

"I seem to recall a diary not yours in your possession. I need it. Failure to comply and send it by owl, and I shall ask for another suitable task. No questions. Should you ask any, I will choose to ignore them until you do manage to complete a task.

Best of luck,

Altair Castell"

.oOo.

"It's Friday! Can you believe it?" Theo asked across the table. "I thought we'd have a meeting last week, but I suppose they need Lupin after all. Wonder where he goes every month- some of the Hufflepuffs are saying that his mother's sick."'

Hasan shrugged, hiding a smile between his blank mask.

"I don't know. But I think it will be worthwhile, the Dueling Club, I mean, I'm not sure where he spends his monthly vacation."

Draco ate his chips slowly. He had had the diary for about a week and was frantic that Hasan should find out. Hence his somewhat garbled answer of, "Yeah, me neither."

"Well, I can't wait!" Tracey piped up, "I heard that we're actually going to simulate a real wizards duel, with seconds and everything!"

"Yeah, Mr. Black told us after class yesterday when I forgot my quill." Daphne said. "Hey, Draco. Are you feeling alright?"

"What makes you think that?" Draco snapped, stabbing some peas and carrots.

"He's probably just nervous for tonight." Tracey supplied. "If Hasan's going to be your second, do you think we could duel with Daphne as mine?"

"Hey! What about me?" Theo asked teasingly.

"Stuck with the muggleborn, eh, Theo?" Blaise laughed. He had gotten somewhat used to the prospect of being distantly associated with mudbloods, just as long as he wasn't with one, then everything was fine.

"I would be if that Weasel stopped approaching her." Theo growled.

"Relax, Hermione finds a decent friend in Ron." Hasan told him. "I think that if you asked her she would love to be partners."

Theo's eyes lit up, "Seriously?"

"Seriously?" Blaise mocked. "Yeah, Hasan said so, so go!"

Tracey nodded and shoved Theo off the bench. "Hurry up, lover boy."

"Yeah, you're just jealous Tracey..." Theo muttered, but scampered off to meet Hermione anyway.

"Luna can sit with us, isn't that right, Ronald?" Hermione was challenging.

"Er..."Ron said.

"Oh look! Hi Theo!" Luna said brightly, slipping into the seat beside Hermione.

"Oh great! A Slytherin!" Ron groaned. "What next? Want to dissolve the Houses just like you want to dissolve the purebloods? Talk about prejudice!"

"Knitting scarves and hats for house-elves hardly constitutes as pureblood prejudice!" Hermione snapped, then turned a friendly face to Theo. "Hello Theo, won't you sit down?"

Theo eyed Ron apprehensively and shook his head. "I just wanted to ask you something, if that's alright: Will you consent to be my second?"

"Your second? Isn't that for a Wizards Duel?" Hermione asked. "Oh! I remember now that Professor Lupin mentioned something like this yesterday!"

Theo nodded. "Well, if you want to. We could go up against Hasan and Draco."

"Friends with bloody friends of Slytherins." Ron was muttering.

"Oh! I'd love to!" Hermione smiled. "And Ronald can be all alone, isn't that right?"

"Ron has Lavender!" Luna interjected to Ron's audible groan.

"Oh? Are you talking about me again, Wonwon?" Lavender squealed, miles down the table, before getting up.

"Oh joy," Ron moaned. Today was not his day. He had wanted to ask Hermione to be his second! And Lavender was great and all...but nothing compared to Hermione. Then again, if Draco and Hasan were a pair, then perhaps he could exact some revenge upon the Slytherin household? "I'm coming, no need to get up!" Ron called, before doing just that.

"Are they together?" Theo asked.

"Oh, no!" Hermione said as Luna said,

"They snog."

"Oh..." Theo finished. "Well, I'll see you tonight then...?"

Hermione beamed. "Of course. I've just got to knit a few more hats."

.oOo.

Albus Dumbledore leaned over Snape's shoulder as he ate his dinner in a neat and orderly fashion.

"Severus?"

Most of the staff table was consumed in their own private chatter and occasional gossip from Trelawney as to who was prophesized to die, and paid no heed to the bearded wizard sneaking about as silent as a mouse.

"Yes?" Snape asked, putting down his fork and tuning politely. The headmaster inclined his head and indicated towards the exit. "Now?"

"If you are finished."

Severus gave a plaintive glance towards his empty plate and stood up.

"Of course."

The two wizards weren't noticed at all as they exited discretely out the side. Partly because they had cast notice-me-not charms about themselves, but also because most of the kids had left already to prepare for the Dueling Club.

"Headmaster, what is this about?" Severus asked, surprised that Minerva was nowhere in sight. It surely couldn't involve the Potter boy, because then Lupin or Black would also be expected to be here. As it was, only he and the headmaster stood, alone and side-by-side in the foyer.

"I wanted to wish you luck today." Albus said conversationally. "I'm pleased at the amount of students participating in the club, I confess I had not expected as many."

Severus waited, waiting for that 'but...' that second shoe, technically the main shoe, to fall.

"I am also curious as to the muggle books you have begun to read."

Snape was too much of a spy to suck in a dramatic breath, no, if anything, his mask became blanker, staring simply at Gan-Albus. Damn, Altair and those books!

"I do not recall ever mentioning them. Have you been-?"

"Oh, no! No, I wouldn't dream of snooping about in your chambers!" Albus insisted in earnest. "No, Black just mentioned them in passing. Is he correct that they are called The Lord of the Rings?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. A rather interesting muggle depiction, I assure you."

"About magical rings, yes?"

"Yes. And might I ask why, headmaster, it is that you have suddenly found interest in my private reading?"

Albus smiled.

"Lemon drop?"

"No thank you." Severus said tersely.

"Aw, well." Albus sighed and popped one in his mouth. "You know, we are on the same side Severus. I truly regret ever giving Harry to the Durselys, and I think you've come to realize that Harry will never be like James. Even Black is changing before your eyes."

"And this has to do with my books because-?"

"It's no real secret that Lupin has loaned them to you. I simply wish to express my pleasure at seeing you befriend your colleagues."

"Befriend." Severus repeated dully. Well, if Lupin insisted to cover for him... "Of course. Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, Albus?"

Dumbledore shrugged and chewed thoughtfully at the candy.

"Nothing as of yet."

"Then I shall go and ready myself for the Club." Severus said with a slight inclination of the head.

"Yes, go. And good luck, Severus, my boy." Albus called. "Sometimes the best of us need a little of it."

The headmaster watched the man stride away down to the dungeons. There had actually been a very good reason for the meeting, and yet, nothing at all. Rings, magic rings...Or rather, one ring in particular. He needed someone on his side. Someone who understood wards and dark magic, just in case the temptation hung too low.

He had tried scrying today; an ancient art, out of practice, and very much a last resort. Needless to say, it had failed, and yet, something amazing had struck him at the exact moment the scrying had faded. Something so extraordinary that Dumbledore had taken the entire afternoon just to think of it: There was a boy named Hasan Castell.

He had never known this. How? Was there a notice-me-not? A disillusionment? An obliviation involved? He would have sensed such things! He would have known...and yet he had known, hadn't he? On some primal level, he had known and functioned accordingly. There was a boy named Hasan Castell.

Albus recalled the Sorting, Minerva's raves, and of course, the fact that he too had been down in the chamber of the stone, battling against Lord Voldemort along with Neville. But how had he failed to recognize this, as in, analyze and understand and retain this knowledge? Was it spell work or rather...his own neglect? His own reluctance to see anyone other than Neville, his new project, son, apprentice, weapon, savior... Albus had already saved the world once, it was time for him to pass on the torch...so why had he only concerned himself with Neville Longbottom? Surely there were others that would be better suited for the role?

Either way, it was too late now: Hasan Castell had been completely neglected. All he could do was hope for a chance in the future; after all, Albus was built on second chances.

.oOo.

It was Friday night, the 18th of December, and the final Dueling Club meeting of the semester. A blizzard raged on outside, frosting the great windows with ice crystals and causing a chill throughout the corridors. Once more, the Great Hall had been divested of its usual tables, being replaced by a large platform in the middle with lots of space around for spectators.

Luna, Neville, Hasan, and Draco stood huddled in the crowd, waiting for the professors to show. Many students had already paired themselves off, eager to fight an actual duel (minus the deaths and such other minor details.) Hermione was with Theo, Hasan with Draco, Neville with Ginny, Tracey with Daphne, Ron with Lavender, and Luna with Sue Li.

Without warning, the great doors swung open, allowing for three wizards to come striding in. Severus was up front so that Remus and Sirius could link arms in the back.

"Welcome again!" Remus shouted once they were all on the platform. "Today, as you might have heard from a certain substitute teacher (couch, Sirius, cough), we will be selecting students to partake in a simulation duel. Each person should have a partner as their second, however, we have no deaths planned for today, so this is simply a formality. Everyone will have equal and ample opportunity to show us what they've got. As always, if anyone does not wish to participate in front of an audience, you may of course decline and watch from the side. Any questions?- Yes, Ernie?"

"Are we limited in which spells we use?"

"Ah! Yes, good question!" Remus began. "We would prefer that you guys stick with purely defensive spells or the ones we went over in class or club such as: Petrificus Totalus, Locomotor Mortis, Tarantallegra, Expelliarmus, and Protego! Any others?- good! Sirius if you would-?"

Sirius nodded and took the front, staring down at the students pleasantly. Severus was at his left, taking survey of the kids from that angle while Lupin sat back and watched.

"We'll be practicing Expelliarmus for five minutes before demonstrations, until then, good luck finding a second!"

He bowed dramatically and the hall burst into excited whispers and applause as they scrambled for a partner.

Hasan turned to Draco and smiled.

"What would you like to practice? I've no doubt that Monsieur Sussmeier has taught you extremely well."

"Want to find out?" Draco challenged teasingly, taking out his wand. "Expelliarmus!-"

"Protego!"

The two spells collided causing quite an unpleasant banging noise before dispelling each other.

"Didn't know it would do that." Draco said, rubbing his ear. "I don't think I want a repeat."

Hasan nodded. "I definitely concur."

To their left, Luna and Sue Li were practicing the Expelliarmus on each other, while on their right Hermione and Theo were making quills float and target things. Draco turned a questioning eye to Tracey and Daphne who were caught looking at him, and Hasan momentarily met Neville's gaze.

"Oh come on Neville! Let me put you in a body-bind...!" Ginny was squealing.

Neville grinned uncomfortably, but otherwise didn't protest.

"I'm still unsure: Are they together?" Hasan asked.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Hasan, sometimes I worry for you. Yes, they're together!"

"Hey Hasan!" Daphne called. "Would you mind dueling us for practice?"

Hasan and Draco exchanged glances and nodded.

"Great! Let's beat 'em, Daphne!" Tracey shouted, but just at that moment, the hall went eerily silent. Hasan's head snapped up to view the speaker, and wasn't surprised to find Severus pacing the platform, onyx eyes gleaming.

"I am giving you all a fair warning before we begin: I do not intend to send anyone to St. Mungos and highly insist that you do NOT cast any spells that may harm your opponent permanently. Madam Pomfrey will be waiting in the annex for any emergency, but any spells cast designed to cause long-term damage will be dealt with very seriously. Do I make myself clear?" The crowd was a sea of murmurs and nods and Snape smiled, satisfied. "Good. Now if all students not wishing to participate could move to the back?"

There was a great flurry of movement as bodies slid past one another. The three teachers, Black, Lupin, and Snape descended the platform and wove through the crowd easily, able to point out the pairs and assign them a number.

"Hasan, Draco, you will be 1A. Luna, Neville will be 1B-" Sirius started.

"But professor!" Lavender whined. "We were supposed to duel Hasan and Draco!"

"I've heard nothing." Sirius said simply. "But if you insist..."

Draco was glaring daggers at Ron, but in reality, he was rather excited at the prospect of fighting a duel. And getting even for that terrible framing job. There was no way in hell he was going to back down now. Especially not with Lavender making faces and rubbing Ron's shoulders- it was enough to make anyone gag.

"Oh, bring it." Draco snarled. "We'll beat you any day."

Hasan simply blinked. A fight was a fight no matter who it was against- he didn't mind either way.

"Alright! So if Hasan and Draco could come up the right side and Ron and Lavender on the left?" Sirius called. "We'll have one from each side go first, then after a winner is declared we'll switch, got it?" The hall nodded, watching the pairs advance with avid curiosity. Draco, Ron, and Lavender were deep into their staring competition, while Hasan followed gracefully behind, ready to wipe that smirk off Ron's face. "And...begin!"

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 15: Parseltongue and Poetry

Hasan and Lavender strode up for the first round, leaving Draco and Ron on their respective sides of the platform. The two second years drew close to the center, wands out and eyeing each other speculatively, before bowing as propriety dictated in a decidedly reluctant way. Lavender rolled her eyes as they both returned to their starting places, not wishing to do a whole song and dance before kicking some Slytherin arse. Hasan, however, smiled reassuringly to Draco and Luna in the crowd, who were slightly concerned about Ron's unpredictable girlfriend.

"One!..." Lupin raised his finger, voice carrying easily over the crowd. "Two!...Thr-!"

"Expelliarmus!" Lavender screeched with a jab of her wand, a red flash of light sent zooming like a bullet. The students drew in a breath as the battle begun with flare, Lavender looking for all the world like a child left solitary in a candy store. Entirely too happy, and entirely unsupervised. Her eyes were bright, darting about her with an air of paranoia.

"Protego." Hasan muttered softly. The earsplitting bang from before ensued, as the spells collided off each other with blue sparks. Everyone who had already heard the sound once quickly covered their ears, shuddering involuntarily. A lazy smile sat on his face as Lavender advanced furiously. She hadn't even seen his mouth move! She would not look like a fool! She would NOT!

"Locomotor Mortis!" Lavender screamed, slashing her wand about. "Tarantallegra!"

The leg-locker jinx flew straight beneath Hasan's lithe jump, disappearing instantly where Lupin had erected the ward. The second however, made its mark, causing Hasan's feet to begin a rapid tap-dance. Throughout it all, Hasan looked utterly bored, and the hilarity of the situation was turned on its side to appear simply odd.

"Relashio! Expelliarmus!" Hasan cried, freeing himself from the humiliating jig and shooting Lavender's wand out of her hand in one graceful motion. The stick flew up in the air, and Hasan, with his inherent reflexes, easily caught it, before twirling it between his fingers with a smirk. It didn't feel warm as his wand did for him, instead, giving off a rather unhappy, cold aura, very similar to Lavender herself.

"Give it back!" Lavender screeched just as Black declared,

"And the winner is Hasan Castell!"

Her protests were drowned by cheers from the crowd, mostly from Slytherin and Gryffindor, and then more cheers from all the houses that were privy to Lavender's lovely attitude throughout the course of the past year.

Hasan tossed her back her wand and took a bow as Lavender stomped off the stage.

"I-it's alright, Lav," Ron soothed nervously as Lavender went to slap him.

"Do it, Ron! Swear it! No holding back!" she hissed angrily, planting her feet down and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron's face changed from nervous to mildly determined. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Lavender growled, eyeing Draco like a piece of meat.

Severus watched this all with interest, knowing that Hasan was clearly hanging back, but also knowing that Hasan was extremely smart for doing so. As of today, he had made it past the Hobbit, and into the Fellowship of the Ring, and had just begun to understand Hasan's internal reasoning. Become underestimated and defeat your opponents at opportune times. It was rather similar with Voldemort and him, he thought, but hell if he was going to draw a parallel between Hasan Castell, a muggle book, and himself!

He watched Lavender stomp about on stage, plotting furiously with Ron Weasley on the platform. He was already getting a bad feeling about this. Looking to his side, he saw that Lupin had already grabbed his wand, though Black remained completely oblivious.

"We'll have to be careful with this one. She doesn't seem to like Draco much," Lupin whispered the obvious.

On the other side of the Great Hall, Ginny and Neville were staring up at the proceedings with interest. Ginny's arm was wrapped around Neville's, and they seemed to lean into one another under the snowy sky of the hall.

"Oh! Isn't that simply terrible, Neville!" Ginny moaned. "Lavender was training so hard!"

Neville nodded dumbly. He liked Ginny, he really did, but he knew Hasan just a little bit better.

"I think Hasan's just a tough opponent, that's all. Nothing bad about Lavender." Neville mumbled quickly. Ginny took this as an agreement and pecked a kiss on his cheek. He turned bright red in embarrassment.

To their side, Hermione and Theo were eyeing Ron speculatively.

"Think Draco can handle this?" Hermione asked uneasily. She knew that Ron wouldn't do anything bad by himself, but Lavender was decidedly not a good influence. Given the chance, well, there was nothing Ron hated quite so much as Slytherins.

"Yeah, he can handle quite a lot, actually." Theo remarked. "I'm more worried about Ron right now. Draco's been prickly all week and I think Ron might just be on the receiving end of a lot of nerves..." Internally, Theo was leaping in excitement. Ron was about to get his comeuppance, that was for sure!

Up on the platform, Draco was rolling his shoulders, trying to relax himself before the show. "Lavender really has no class." he drawled. "A perfect match for a Weasley, I'd say."

"Be nice, Draco." Hasan murmured, jade eyes glued to Lavender Brown. "Weasley's learning like all the rest of us. Bonne chance, though you can't always rely on luck."

Draco nodded firmly. "I can handle a Weasel any day."

Ron strutted forward in his second hand robes, wand clasped tightly in his hand. Lavender was grinning mischievously in the background, causing a decidedly unsettled feeling in Hasan's stomach. She was planning something, that much was obvious- but what?

Draco met Ron halfway, platinum blonde hair gleaming in the candlelight. Ron inclined his ginger head while Draco sneered and bowed mockingly, low to the floor.

"You're on, Weasel," he hissed.

"You're dragon meat, Malfoy," Ron returned, whipping haughtily around to head towards his team's side.

"Don't worry, Draco. You've got me as your second." Hasan whispered as Draco returned. Draco nodded, guiltily thinking of the diary currently beneath his pillow and the books he stole. (Though not so remorseful about the second because Hasan believed him when he said that Draco himself was reading them.)

"I'm not worried." Draco muttered, but was quick to rethink this, for as soon as he pivoted, he was met with Ron's gleeful face.

"Protego!" Draco snapped before the red head had uttered a single thing. The shield charm blasted Ron backwards into the air and dropped him unceremoniously to the floor.

"Uh!" Ron moaned. " Titillando!"

Lilac ribbons in the form of hands reached out menacingly towards the blonde, enfolding him in millions of agonizing tickles. Draco sent a stinging hex as the tickling spell wore off, and Ron bit back a hiss as his robes sizzled and charred, leaving a small nettle prick on his shoulder.

"Ron!" Lavender whined impatiently.

Draco's silvery eyes flickered to the brunette in suspicion, before Ron straightened and raised his wand.

"Serpensortia!"

The tip of his wand blurred in a haze of explosions, erupting from it a large black snake, nearly five times the size of poor Tina! Hasan's jade eyes widened considerably as the serpent slithered powerfully across the platform, head and body raised with gleaming red eyes. Its forked tongue flickered out, tasting the fear and surprise of hundreds of Hogwarts students.

Severus made to stand up, but Lupin shot out an arm to stop him.

"You want to see what he can do? Let him show you." Lupin whispered furiously, and Severus saw at once the truth in those words. But...when had he started turning into a bloody hero? He couldn't help everyone; sometimes people needed to learn to help themselves. He nodded and sat back down reluctantly, ready to watch whatever Hasan and Draco could muster.

"Come on, snake boy! Think you're a real Slytherin?" Lavender taunted from the back.

"Yeah!" Ron agreed, scrambled back towards safety, "Try sneaking your way out of this one you bloody Slytherins!"

They both fell laughing as Draco's face melted to one of mute horror. Hasan wished he could help the boy, he really did, but there was no way in hell that he was going to reveal that he was a parselmouth! He glanced sharply towards the professors, wondering when they would deign to step in. It seemed that Snape was about to get up, but then Lupin stopped him. Oh, bloody brilliant! They just curious, weren't they?

"Draco, now would be nice..." Hasan said. He didn't understand what the big deal was. The snake clearly wasn't venomous, and Hasan could hardly control the color of the beast's red eyes!

:Who hasss sssummoned me?: the serpent demanded, head swinging from side to side like a great metronome. :Wassss it you?: He was staring at Malfoy now, cocking its large head from side to side. :Humansss should learn to keep their problemsss to themssselvess!:

"Uh! uh! Hasan!" Draco whimpered.

"Relax, it's not going to harm you, Draco." Hasan said quietly, walking up to the giant cobra.

Then, from out of nowhere, another voice filtered into the Great Hall.

:Theeeese humansss wish to harm you! Ssstrike for them all! Yesss! Kill them! Sssso long, ssso long ssssincce I have tasssted their sssweeet blood!: This voice wasn't pleasant or smooth like Tina's, but rather scratchy and starved, an altogether unfriendly, violent creature, and by the sounds of it, bloodthirsty too.

Hasan stared at the blank wall in wonder. Was there something behind the wall? Another parselmouth? Another snake? And why did it hate humans so much?

:Isss thisss true?: the black serpent asked, barring its venomous fangs, beady eyes latching onto Draco.

:Yeesss! Rip! Tear! Kill them all!: the second voice faded away, seeming to slither through something very tight, for the sound of its scales were loud in Hasan's ears. He was only brought back to reality by the gasps coming from the crowd.

"Oh! Draco!"

"Oh, no!"

"Professor!"

"Lupin, Black, Snape!"

"Draco, move out of the way!"

"Hasan!"

In that instant, the snake had plunged down, the vanishing curse on the tip of Snape's tongue. Damn it, Lupin! How had he managed to let the wolf talk him into waiting? This was his godson! These were his Slytherins! Oh, Weasley and Brown were never going to see the light of day again, they'd be scrubbing cauldrons twenty-four seven for the next seven years of their lives! His feet moved to stand just as Lupin began to shout the shield charm. Black was out of the room, running for Madam Pomfrey. And all time stood still.

:Halt.:

The cobra froze, yards away from Draco's blonde head.

:Halt.: Hasan hissed again, arms raised in the universal sign of surrender. :We mean you no harm.:

Its large black head swung to the crowd, searching for the truth in each and every one of their terrified faces. A girl fainted.

:Who hasss brought me here? My name is Ssssossssiaro.:

Sosiaro had apparently found truth in the young wizard's words, for it lowered itself back down and listened.

:I can return you,: Hasan said, :Would you like that?:

The snake nodded, tail slapping the platform in confirmation. It left a dent and sent chunks of platform flying, disintegrating instantly as they smashed against the wards.

:Right, then-: Hasan took a deep breath. "-Vipera Evanesca!"

He waved his wand and pointed it towards the snake, a blast of light shooting out and enveloping the serpent in a cloud of black smoke. But just before he vanished, Hasan swore he heard something along the lines of :Thanksss.:

The hall was eerily silent as Hasan turned towards the Malfoy heir.

"Yes?"

"Y-you're a parselmouth!" Draco exclaimed for the entire world to hear.

"I know."

"B-but! You're a parselmouth!" Draco repeated in awe, his knees quaking beneath him. Not only had he almost died or been severely injured, but his friend, whom he had known for two years had been keeping a secret from him! Who was Hasan to accuse him about trust when he was the one who barely told Draco anything? (Not that Hasan ever accused Draco of anything, this was just Draco's justification for stealing things.)

"When you stop gaping, perhaps you can explain to me why exactly it is that you care." Hasan asked, though was growing uncomfortable by the minute.

"Because only Salazar Slytherin could speak to snakes...and the Dark Lord." Draco whispered. "Oh! Father's going to kill me!"

Lucius was already on the tightrope as it was, straddling relations on both the Dark and Light...once he learned that Draco practically begged him to take on a clearly dark child as part of their family! Draco was dragon meat.

All around them, children were whispering, hissing things (figuratively), growling things, glaring. And as apathetic as Hasan was, the attention made him want to die. He couldn't deal with this! All he had wanted was to save Draco from the damn cobra...and that voice! What was that voice?...

Salazar's monster? Was it true? He recalled Tom once telling him something about a means to rid the school of all but purebloods. It made sense, it fit. But he refused to let Tom know that the creature was still up and about. Hasan wasn't stupid after all! He knew that Tom dearly wished to set the creature loose and would probably have a means of using Hasan's information to do so...

He glanced at Draco who was, by now, deathly white.

"Students! If you could all please quiet down and exit orderly through the main doors there!" Lupin called. The frozen mass of children suddenly bolted towards the door, but miraculously slowed to a pleasant pace once outside.

"Another mass-obliviation?" Snape muttered in question. Lupin nodded. "You know if Albus finds out, you're fired, right?" Another nod. "Do you want to get fired?" Snape growled.

"I've got a better question: Do you want Hasan to suffer?- I thought so." he said blandly at the look on Snape's face. He would have looked smug but for the severity of the situation. Hasan Castell was a parselmouth. Hasan was a...parselmouth. Both teachers mulled over the idea-no, the enigma that was Hasan Castell...

Draco and Hasan were the last ones out, nearly bumping into Sirius on his own way in.

"Why's everyone leaving so soon?" Sirius wondered innocently. Poppy was bustling behind, wand out and ready to help.

"I thought you said there was a problem, Sirius!" Poppy yelled irritatedly. Her eyes turned to Draco and Hasan, as they were the only kids left in the room, and Draco seemed to pale beneath her gaze. "Well?"

"Terribly sorry, Madam Pomfrey." Hasan cut in smoothly, offering her a charming smile as he shoved Draco through the door. Draco fell through the spell and started at first, but then looked around curiously before turning back towards Hasan.

"The meeting's over already?" Draco asked candidly. "Wow, that was fast!"

Poppy gazed enquiringly at Hasan who just shrugged and followed Draco out.

"Sorry, we're just all tired." Hasan said sheepishly. "Come on, Draco. You got hit in the head with a wayward stupefy and Snape thought it best to cancel before the meeting became too wild."

Draco nodded numbly. A stupefy? He couldn't recall. Right, because he hit his head.

"I need to lie down." Draco murmured. "My head feels...really light. I can't describe it, only that, I felt this way after our first DADA class. Odd isn't it? I think something's wrong with Lupin...Ever wonder if he's a werewolf?"

Draco was trailing off incoherently as they walked down to the dungeons. The combination of the shock, the guilt, betrayal, and sudden obliviation really did a number on a person. Fortunately, Hasan had cast a privacy charm on him from the moment they descended the stairs.

"Shh, it's alright Draco. Just get some sleep."

Draco walked lethargically to his dorm, flashing a grin at Hasan over his shoulder before disappearing inside.

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Luck is really unreliable, isn't it?" Hasan whispered to himself.

.oOo.

Lucius Malfoy was having a wonderful day. His beautiful wife had made him a lovely roast beef dinner, and his Dark Mark had all but faded! (He had been worried earlier in the summer when it had turned a nasty black, but now it was faint against his skin.)

"I'm going to the Greengrass'!" Narcissa yelled, one bright red stiletto in the house, the other on the marble step.

"Have fun, darling!" Lucius called, knowing that these social outings would one day save them if their loyalties were questioned. He watched her apparate away before sending the wards back up and retiring to his bedchambers. It was 10pm, and work had been rather tiring, if very rewarding.

A neat sum of five thousand Galleons made the Minister of Magic much more inclined to let him into the Department of Mysteries. For he had need of a certain library, buried deep within the department, that had books banned from over hundreds of years ago. But all he really needed to look up was Memory charms, spells, collection, and removal. The Malfoy library was in itself, an extensive treasure, but Lucius was completely baffled at what the hell was wrong with him and how he could reverse it. He couldn't let this Altair Castell run his life! Malfoy's bowed to no one! (Except for Voldemort.)

After an exhausted effort of seek and find, Lucius had found (stumbled across) exactly one book on the topic, which wasn't even dark! Organization was simply dreadful down there, and many books were falling apart. What he did manage to learn was very little, and yet, just enough:

"Obliviated memories may not be salvaged from the mind unless at risk of permanent damage. Removed memories, as in using a pensieve, may be returned to the owner if stored and returned properly. The more memories, the more magical energy needed to maintain them. However, it is possible for one to receive flashes of the removed memories if a Fray is left. Similar to a fabric fray, it allows for the reaped memories to be reattached. Without this, the memories may never latch on to the original mind and will quickly be forgotten if viewed within a pensieve or Legilimency..."

Which confirmed one thing: if Lucius cooperated, there was a chance, a slim one, of recovering his life. Oh, dear Salazar! He was doomed! He needed Altair and Altair knew it! Damn the man, damn the dagger, damn their sons! There was no way to harm the kid now that he was under Malfoy protection!

Walking into his chambers now, it seemed much like fate that there should be a tawny owl standing on his desk, a slim letter tied to its leg. He quickly freed the feathered creature of its burden, before shooing it away out the window. He smoothed the letter out on his desk and began to read...

By the time he reached the end, he was fisting strands of his platinum locks and banging his elbow on the table. Shit! Shit! Shit! Altair truly had him wrapped about his finger in every single way. Memories of Altair! Yes, he could live without them! Memories of Narcissa! His dear, beloved wife? That was taking it too far. He needed to cooperate. He needed back his memories and his life and his peace of mind!

"Dear Altair Castell,

You knew I was condemned the moment I opened the very first letter and read the very first word. Well, have it your way: I swear on the honor of the Malfoy name, that I will complete these tasks to my utmost. This being said, I do indeed know of the diary I think you are referring to. However, it is out of my power to deliver it to you. I have no idea where it might have landed by now except that it's in Hogwarts. As requested, I will not ask my three questions until the next task has been delegated and completed. So consider this rhetorical: There is something I cannot recall of this diary, but something I am sure you know. What is the diary's purpose?

Regards,

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy"

He sighed and rested a bit with his hands to his burning forehead. There was nothing he could do. He was well and truly trapped. No one to call. No one to blame. He didn't even dare to tell Severus! Nothing to risk those memories. Nothing at all.

.oOo.

Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, had woken from a long and altogether unpleasant sleep. He dreamed he had killed Hasan. Well, ha, that was funny...

He groaned and rolled over, surprised at the diary lying beside him. He hadn't remembered writing in it last night...actually, he didn't remember anything much of last night. But he was sure that he had gone to the Dueling Club, he remembered talking about it over lunch. How odd.

He opened the diary now, reaching blindly for his hand and his pen in his cabinet.

"Hello Tom." Draco wrote, sitting up and propping the book on his pillow.

"Oh, good morning, Draco." The words were immediate, as if Tom had been expecting him to write. It was disconcerting to say the least, but Draco was so concerned about his own problems to ponder any more.

"I can't help but feel as if...I've forgotten something."

"You went to the Dueling Club last night and wrote to me, but as soon as you mentioned that it was your turn to duel, you suddenly stopped writing. I assume you had fallen asleep."

"Oh." Draco stared at his hands and thought. He had fallen asleep, just like that?

"Are you sure you're alright? You mentioned that Hasan walked you to your rooms."

"Hasan wouldn't-"

"Of course, because Hasan wouldn't hide anything from you..."

Secrets...Draco frowned at the diary, angry at something he couldn't recall. And why couldn't he recall it?

"I can help, you know. " Tom wrote in earnest. "I know where he keeps it."

"Keeps what? Keeps what where?" Draco demanded.

"I'm sure I could show you later...it'll just be our little secret."

.oOo.

Hasan paced restlessly up and down the seventh floor corridor. Damn snakes! Why had he felt the need to step in? Why not vanish it? Why not slam it into the wards?

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! But it had been an immediate reaction! A reflex! He hadn't even known about parseltongue until Tina explained it to him! He had thought that he was speaking English, well not yesterday, but up until Altair! Stupid! How could he have done that?

The whole thing was wholly uncomfortable: the stares, the awestruck faces, the glances, the glares, the whispers...and worse! Lupin had to cast another obliviation on the door! If no one caught on, it would be a miracle. But that was it, he was sure that someone caught on, and he was terrified if Neville or Draco should ask him about it. So what happened last night? Who dueled? Who won? Hasan couldn't bear it!

The door emerged from the stone wall, jutting out as a gold adorned port. Hasan walked through absently, dreading the moment he would have to confess or deny. Dreading the betrayal of people who were more than just acquaintances, but friends. Damn it! People like him shouldn't even have friends.

The room was furnished with black plush chairs and a warm cream rug. The walls were red, with gray accents like lamps and tables.

"Where is everyone?" Hasan asked to the empty room, already anxious that they had figured it out and had refused to be in his presence any longer- Figured out that they had been oblivated all year and that he was a dirty Slytherin. A parselmouth! The very epitome of evil. It was only a stone's throw away from Harry Potter, the boy wonder, the survivor, the one destined to save them all. They'd think: If he was hiding this, what else is he hiding? We know so little about him. What else is he hiding? Let's find out! Let's find out!

"Shut up, Hasan." he growled to himself. "Just, stop trying to guess what others will say." His heart rate sped up, his breathing coming out in labored gasps. This wasn't healthy, he told himself. Well obviously, Hasan. Just stop thinking, would you?

He heard the door creak open form behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around. Was it Draco come to demand the dagger back? Neville deciding that Ron was in the right to send a lethal cobra after them? Or, Merlin forbid, Luna...

"Hasan." It was Luna's voice! Cool and smooth and lovely. "Hasan. What're you doing? Come sit with me."

Hasan stole a glance and blinked at her hair that was neatly braided over her shoulder.

"I wanted to be like you. See, like it?"

Hasan nodded, before following her to the couch.

"Draco and Neville?"

"Not coming." Luna said. "They, like the rest of the Dueling Club, have woken up with splitting headaches. Unusual isn't it?"

"Yeah." Hasan sighed. "I suppose you sensed the obliviation?"

Luna smiled. "I always do. It only takes a lucky charm to dispel those. You must be extremely lucky. It never seems to affect you at all."

Hasan forced out a merciless laugh. "I wonder why."

"Don't worry, Hasan. I can keep secrets you know. Hey, do you trust me?" Her silver eyes were wide as she gazed at Hasan with full on trust. "Do you?"

"Anyone who can forgive me deserves trust." Hasan murmured.

"That's good." Luna said, playing with her braid. "Because I've got secrets too."

"I see." Hasan said, though he really didn't. One could only imagine the many things going on inside Luna Lovegood's brain.

"There's a reason why we met, I think. I've told you before: I can sense things. They don't make a lot of sense sometimes, but...they always come true." Her eyes dropped to her lap where her hands were folded gently, the silver ring glinting on her finger. "I'm psychic."

Hasan gaped. "You're psychic?" he repeated. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise. She had practically told him the last time they had met, but hearing it now. It just made it so final.

"Yup!" Luna cried. "Here, I'll prove it. Before I came to Hogwarts, I had this niggling thought of a diadem. Did you know that? The Sorting Hat called it the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, and the next thing I knew, I was in Ravenclaw!"

"A diadem?" Hasan asked. "Oh, Merlin!" He clenched his eyes shut as a wave of fatigue rolled over him. "A diadem? Isn't that like a crown?"

"A tiara." Luna specified. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

Hasan nodded. "I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I've just, oh gods...I don't know anymore."

"It's alright. It's not very important anyway. It's missing, did you know?" Luna asked curiously.

"Mi-missing?" Hasan echoed. There was a faint ringing, that of a chime or distant Angel's horn...he needed to find it. He needed to find the diadem. But why?

"Yes. They say You-Know-Who was after it. It's supposed to give the wearer knowledge, you know? The Grey Lady told me, and she must be right."

"I see."

"But Hasan, I'm only explaining this so that you know...that I know what it's like to be...sort of different from everybody else. Sometimes I babble on about things I have no knowledge of, simply because the inspiration takes me." Luna sighed and fingered her ring. "But I'm glad I've got you."

Hasan nodded, but his mind was locked and her silver eyes held the key. The longer he gazed, the longer her felt himself falling into a vat of warm molten silver.

"But anyway," Luna began again, shaking the moment away with a brush of her cheek. "I think I've got the visualization down. I'm nearly on par with Neville now because he spends so much time with Ginny. Perhaps we can try next year. I have a feeling that things will get very busy. But most of the time my feelings are nonsense. Don't you agree?"

"-No!" Hasan interjected, blushing at the sound of his own voice. He hadn't meant to say anything, and yet, he found himself coming to the blonde witch's defense. "No, feelings...aren't stupid." Hasan said, feeling the truth even as his mind shouted 'liar, liar, liar.' "No, we need emotions, Luna. They counter out our thoughts; otherwise we'd all go crazy."

Luna sighed. "Thank you, Hasan. And...good-bye."

She jumped lightly off the couch and ran towards the door, waving happily behind her.

What was this warm feeling? Was it trust? Was it... was it love?

"Merlin, Luna! I think I'm losing it."

.oOo.

Valentine's Day arrived with all the glamour of millions of multi-coloured roses, flying cupids, and chocolate hearts. Ginny Weasley, for one, assaulted Neville outside the boys' dorms with a handmade card and box of chocolate frogs. It was Sunday, so he had taken the extra hour of sleep and emerged fully dressed and beaming in his brand new wizards robes. He started at first at her sudden presence, but quickly wrapped her in a hug.

"Love you, Nev! Happy Valentine's Day! Open it!" she shoved the candies and card into his hands and urged him to open it faster by hopping up and down, like the frogs inside the box.

The unsuspecting Neville pealed open the bright pink envelope, only to jump back in surprise as the words flew out of the card in bright red ribbons, to float and dance around in front of his face.

"He's hidden so long

That our love can't be wrong

Forever together we'll stay.

He's saved the whole world

And I'm his one girl

On this Happy Valentine's Day!"

The words erupted into pink rose petals and fluttered to the ground, some catching in their hair.

"I love you, Neville!" Ginny smiled brightly, hugging him tight around the waist.

"Yeah, love you too," he said, blushing furiously. He couldn't believe it. He really couldn't. Someone loved him, someone saw him...he was elated by it, by her. "I love you, Ginny."

They walked down together to the Great Hall, their hands clasped tightly as Ginny waved and smiled to the people who would watch.

"Neville's really in love, isn't he?" Theo sighed. "Wish my life would be as easy, but..." he sighed in melancholy, before picking himself up again. "Well, here goes!" Theo grinned to the rest of his table and jumped off the bench, a dozen red roses in his hand.

He quickly scanned the room for Hermione and found her sitting beside Neville and a very amorous Ginny. Her warm chocolate eyes snapped to meet his as he approached, and he felt his face heat up embarrassingly.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione." Theo announced, handing her the bouquet rather stiffly. Her entire face lit up radiantly as she smiled up at him, her large front teeth not even distracting from the sheer beauty and joy on her visage.

"Oh! Theo! You didn't need to!" she cried, flinging herself into his body. He shuffled awkwardly, not sure what to do. Was he supposed to pat her on the back? Wait, was that more consoling? Was he supposed to breathe in her shampoo? Strawberries...

"Er, you're welcome." Theo said as they pulled away. "And... y- you look very nice." He stuttered before trailing off lamely.

'You look very nice' had to be the understatement of the year. She was wearing a soft pink dress in favor of the holiday, with little flower earrings to compliment her dress.

"Thank you!" Hermione murmured, eyes shining, and a blush creeping over her cheeks. "Oh, look at Professor Lupin!"

Like Hermione, half of the hall was staring at the professor whose face was blazing crimson. Sirius Black, wearing a black tux and silver-studded collar, was walking proudly into the hall from the back door, a box of chocolates under his arm. Most of the staff table, too, craned their necks for the best angle, and Severus found himself in that peculiar position between a rock and a hard place.

"Padfoot...!" Lupin groaned. "What did I tell you about doing stuff in public?"

"What?" Sirius gasped in surprised. "This?- It's just a necklace, Moony, c'mon! Look, I got you chocolates!"

He placed them carefully in front of the wolf, and Lupin quickly hid them beneath the table. Sirius brushed off the slight rejection, reaching into his robes for-

"IT'S A RING!" one of the students cried.

"Oh my!"

"They're getting married?"

"HE'S GAY?"

The Great Hall ignited into instant applause and chatter, the Gryffindors clapping loudest of them all. Theodore, caught in the Lion's Den, simply clapped as discreetly as he could while making the most noise. A skill, one can be sure.

Severus watched emotionlessly as Sirius dropped to one knee on the other side of Lupin, and asked the fated question.

"Remus John Lupin, will you marry me?"

Lupin's face, if not yet red, turned five shades darker. "Sirius!" he pleaded.

"Well?"

The hall dropped to a silence, save for the myriad croaking chocolate frogs from everyone's red ribboned Valentine's boxes...

Remus looked up into Sirius' shining eyes and smiled. "Always, Sirius. Yes."

And just like that, the applause was back, ten times louder. Sirius grabbed Lupin in a hug, before slipping the telltale ring onto his finger.

"Well, well! Congratulations my boys!" Albus came in, clapping with the rest of the staff table, with a large smile stretched from ear to ear. "How wonderful! Simply delightful!"

"The best Valentine's day, I'd say!" Hagrid chimed in from down the table.

"Stop! You're making him blush!" Minerva chided jovially. "Oh, it's really wonderful. Good luck, the both of you."

Lupin glanced helplessly all around the Great Hall before finally locking gazes with Sirius. "If you'll excuse us." he announced, sliding easily from his seat and grabbing the chocolates and Sirius in one swipe. Knowing grins were sprouting up about the room as Lupin ushered his new fiancé out, looking suddenly ten years younger.

.oOo.

I need Ravenclaw's diadem. I need Ravenclaw's diadem. I need Ravenclaw's diadem. Hasan chanted over and over in his head. It was Valentine's day, and he just had this...feeling, this most peculiar feeling, that he should come to the Room of Requirement and simply ask for the lost tiara. Why? He didn't know. Perhaps it was because he wanted something to give to Luna- but even on that note, why? He didn't know. Was it love? Infatuation? Let it be known that Hasan could not be infatuated by anyone or anything. It was all rather puzzling, and he paused a moment before entering into the room of come and go.

The inside of the room was pure white, save for the beautiful ice blue sky and floor. On a plain wooden table lay a jewelry box, open with blue satin lining, and the most breath-taking piece of jewelry Hasan had ever seen. For sitting innocently in the case was a shimmering silver tiara with a large sapphire set as a raven's body. It cast light as a prism would, a beautiful wholesome glow that made the whole room that much luxurious and divine. What was this?

He felt the pulling again. Wear me. Wear me.

But he refused to let those feelings surface. Something ominous hovered about the diadem, and Hasan was dead set on finding what it was, before he just handed it off to Luna. He accio-ed it into his backpack and left the room as quietly as he came, heading down the steps to breakfast. On his way, he saw Remus and Sirius fleeing from the thunderous applause in the Great Hall. He supposed it had to do with their romance, and so continued on his way.

He worked his way through the Great Hall, past all the loving couples, finding his way to the safety of the Slytherin table. Very much relieved that no one had caught him or suspected something of his absence. The tiara hung heavily in his bag as secrets do in the presence of such gracious trust, and he decided to ask Tom about it later. He was practically a walking encyclopedia of Hogwarts' History, knowing even more than Hermione, which was saying quite a lot. Every which way he thought of it, he could not derive any backlash from informing Tom about his suspicions. He was so eager for answers that he quickly excused himself from the table, only to realize one crucial thing: Draco wasn't there. Hmm, come to think of it, neither was Tracey...Hasan smiled knowingly to himself as he exited the Hall, nearly ten minutes after he came in, and headed down to the dungeons.

.oOo.

Severus Snape was still uncomfortably stiff at the wolf and mutt's amorous declarations. He never had a girlfriend, though Lily Evans came close, and he never fancied anyone else. It was a lonely existence, being Severus Snape. But he supposed it was for the best- in his line of work, sometimes going solo was best for everyone all around.

He stood up, leaving behind a semi empty plate, and was just leaving when Dumbledore caught him with those damn twinkling eyes of his.

"So soon?" he asked lightly. "Don't you wish to see who's dating who?"

Snape fought to roll his eyes. "Headmaster, while the love affairs of my students are no doubt riveting, I'd rather not."

The bearded man nodded solemnly. "To each his own, but Severus, if you could- meet me in my office later?"

Snape nodded though his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And may I inquire as to why?"

Dumbledore's eyes had lost their twinkle and he smiled rather sagely. "Love is supposed to be wonderful, isn't it?"

.oOo.

Hasan imagined he would be met with a scene of Tracey and Draco snogging on the Slytherin couch, not Luna, Tracey, and Draco looking up at him astonished as he entered the common room.

"Where've you been?" Draco demanded, sounding as if he had just spent the better part of the morning looking for a runaway.

"Nowhere particularly interesting." Hasan said innocently. "Joyeuse Saint-Valentin, by the way."

Luna was beaming. "See, I told you he'd be back!"

"We were worried sick about you! We thought you'd taken off or someone had drugged you or something!" Tracey protested. "I wanted to go down to breakfast ages ago!"

"Luna, why are you here?" Hasan asked curiously. Usually, students weren't allowed to visit other dorms unless personally invited, which meant that she had to have had a purpose in visiting. It didn't occur to him that she might have wanted to see him.

Tracey groaned and looked to the sky. "Merlin! Help us!" She turned to Draco and tugged on his hand, "Come on, I'm starving!"

The two Slytherins made their way hastily out of the dungeons, though Hasan swore he saw them smirking.

"Bonne Saint-Valentin, Hasan." Luna smiled, approaching him in the empty dorm. Hasan felt his face heating up as it finally dawned on him what she was here for. Certainly, he was fond of her, but for her to return those feelings? And even then, Hasan was so unfamiliar with the term 'love' and all that it entailed.

"Oh. Happy Valentine's Day, Luna." Hasan said sweetly. The tiara rose to the forefront of his mind, and he felt this inexplicable, burning need to give it to her...but the need came from outside himself...and he didn't trust it one bit.

Luna smiled and held out a red envelope addressed to Hasan in neat black cursive, as well as a small pouch.

"Luna-I can't-" Hasan stuttered uncharacteristically. He hadn't gotten her a thing and he hated debts! Why hadn't he thought of buying chocolate frogs like the rest of the Wizarding world?

"Take them, silly. Consider it recompense for the Animagus work."

His train of thought halted instantly, accepting this new piece of logic. His mind annoyed even him sometimes, but he was grateful for the gateway nonetheless. He took the envelope and pealed the gold sticker away in the shape of dirigible plums. The parchment inside was heavy and probably expensive, but it was what was written upon it that captured Hasan's interest.

"I'll read it." Luna offered immediately, taking back the paper nonchalantly, much to Hasan's surprise. "I actually didn't write it, they're lines from 'A Nymph's Passion' by Ben Jonson. We were in the library and Ginny was writing something for Neville, but I couldn't quite find the words. Some people just have the knack, and others. Well others just have a harder time with it." She finished thoughtfully. Hasan blinked in interest before she took a deep breath and began.

"He is, if they can find him, fair,

And fresh and fragrant too.

As summer's sky, or purged air,

And looks as lilies do..."

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 16: Ring of Power

Severus Snape swept out of his chambers near 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Damn Albus and his need to communicate with him! "Love is supposed to be wonderful, isn't it?" Albus had told him earlier at breakfast. And though they were but 8 simple words, Snape knew that they had a meaning much more important behind them. He wasn't a spy for nothing: he knew people. Their patterns, their mannerisms, their motivations. And right now, Snape was pondering Dumbledore's.

Love?

Like the love that was supposed to be in the Dursely household, erected around the Dursley household? Well, neither loving relatives nor blood wards inhabited or environed Number 4, Privet Drive- Snape laughed derisively at the idea. No, there was something the headmaster was hinting at, most likely something he had slowly been nudging Severus about for weeks. The answer flashed like a streak of light through his mind.

Rings.

Somehow the headmaster's comment about befriending colleagues was all just a cover up for the real intent. Somehow, Dumbledore had gotten himself into a potentially dangerous scenario...surrounding rings. To hell with seeing changes in old enemies and reading muggle books, the old codger just wanted to tell him he had a ring! And the fact that Sirius had just proposed somehow made Dumbledore's question on love that much more cryptic. If Severus were to wager a guess, it would be that Dumbledore had a ring, most likely magical, in his possession, that may potentially have a connection with love. Not a bad deduction for a Potions Master!

Speaking of rings, he had finished the entire muggle series from December to February, front to back, two times over. And yet, there were no clues to be found! It was just as Lupin had said: the ring made the wearer invisible, or technically, in another layer of existence... Which made sense, seeing as how Altair was (failing miserably at remaining) in hiding. Still, Hasan was a mystery, as was the father. A mystery that Severus hoped to work out in their next Patronus session.

Snape rounded the corner and walked up to the gargoyle, barking "Chocolate frogs!" so that the staircase would emerge and Snape could trudge on uninterrupted. He knocked thrice on the door, just for formality's sake, before receiving a weary "Enter!" from none other than Albus Dumbledore. The man in question sat behind his desk, where on it sat hundreds of his whizzing silver instruments. The former headmasters and headmistresses snored exaggeratingly loud, confessing of their need to eavesdrop.

"Hello, Severus. Thank you for coming, though I know you are busy."

Not particularly, but Snape wasn't about to say that. Not like he needed to anyway: what was he going to do on Valentine's day? Grade papers? They were already finished- damn his efficiency.

"It's of no consequence, Albus." Severus said, trying to keep the sneer from his tone.

Albus bowed his head, before making to get up, leaning heavily on his desk for support. His movements were slow, like that of a giant tortoise, and yet very poised.

"And yet, I will thank you." Dumbledore returned evenly. He straightened and locked ice blue eyes with obsidian. "I request the assistance of one trained in the Dark Arts." he informed Snape seriously, eyes never wavering and certainly never twinkling. "I also have quite a few confessions to make."

Snape's eyebrow rose dubiously. The great Albus Dumbledore parting with one of his beloved secrets? Oh yes, he was dead. He was dead! The world was reaching the end of existence! Snape nearly gaped at the headmaster, but the elder man showed no signs of falsity.

"What?" Snape asked before he could stop himself. He didn't want to push, least the man changed his mind, but he felt a physical need to exclaim something at this miracle.

"My dear boy, I had not wished to share this information with anyone. Not yet. The time isn't right, but then, is there ever a right time to share these types of things?"

Out with it, old man!

Albus sighed and closed his eyes. "The prophecy, in full, the exact same one you had overheard and told to Voldemort." Snape flinched- it was the greatest regret of his life. "But also the story of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Tom? Snape had heard Dumbledore refer to Voldemort as Tom many times. Still, hearing his full name brought shivers up Snape's spine.

"Why? Why now? What were you waiting for? Surely not for Harry Potter to return!" Snape laughed harshly. "Surely you must be joking! Voldemort was in the school last year! We have dementors flying around the castle because of him! This isn't the time to wait!"

Albus' eyes snapped back open, roaring with icy fire. "I know. Which is why I wish to tell you now. Severus, if you'll hear me out." His voice reverberated with power, a wealth of ancient magic, swirling in the undulations of the wizard's voice. Snape found himself enthralled by the authority commanded in this wizard, and he again reminded himself that this was the person who had defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Not just the wizard who had sentenced Harry Potter to a life of misery, but the only man whom the Dark Lord ever feared.

Albus ruled over this power now, his entire being infused in the magic of the centuries.

"I have made a great many of mistakes. So many that you will never know. But I am willing to open up now because I must. Yesterday, I found something I had been searching for over the course of a year. I had interrogated an old friend of mine, one I am sure you remember quite well: Horace Slughorn. I say interrogated because it was indeed an interrogation. He had warped the memory beyond recognition and buried it under years and years of reassurance and denial, and to recover it was to fight against his mental wards. This had occurred as soon as I had learned of Harry's disappearance, and though he is undamaged mentally, I lost an old friend. An yet, I hold no regrets." His voice was grave and laced with fire.

Severus was gaping. What memory had been so crucial that Albus had cut loose such an old friendship? What memory was so crucial that Albus had to actually fight tooth and nail to obtain it? And they had all imagined him to be unconcerned with the Potter boy, when he had sacrificed for...something. For something.

"What do you need me for, Albus?" Severus finally asked. "What are you planning to do?"

"I plan on destroying Voldemort. It is not the responsibility of an infant, a child, or a single being. It is for all of us. And I'll start by telling you the prophecy."

Snape sucked in a breath as Dumbledore recited:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies." Albus clasped his hands in front of him and paced quietly to stand in front of Snape, who, by the end, had found himself sitting in one of the headmaster's chairs, his legs seemingly unable to hold him.

"So it means that...we're all doomed, essentially?" Severus whispered numbly, dread sinking into his heart as a serum dripped from a needle. "Only Harry Potter can defeat the Dark Lord."

Albus nodded slowly, "...It would appear that way."

Snape eyes snapped to him, angry at being left to worry, but also desperate for the confirmation. "What are you not telling me?" he demanded shrewdly.

"The prophecy, if interpreted right, only means that Harry must deliver the final blow. That is to say, anyone can begin to kill him up to that point."

As Snape was opening his mouth to protest that Albus had finally lost it, Albus drew his attention away by summoning the stone pensieve from its crystal cabinet. Well shoot him dead!- giving up secrets and memories in one go?

"I believe that we should delve into the memories first. Do not protest, I promise I will explain all in time. They depict Tom Riddle's beginnings at the orphanage, as well as the memories I have been able to secure about the Gaunt family, and lastly the memory I procured taken from Slughorn; all of these condensed of course." Dumbledore looked from Snape's incredulous face to the great silver clock on the wall with an expression of thoughtful speculation. "We should be out of here by six."

The memories, misty silver, already swirling within the great basin rose up to great them, as the two wizards plunged into their depths.

.oOo.

It was four o'clock, and Hasan found himself back in his dorm, hands cupping his cheeks, and jade eyes staring blankly at his bookshelf. Where was it?

His Lord of the Rings Books had suddenly been returned to him in a small pile outside of his room. Mysteriously, Draco had just parted with him down in the library, so it couldn't have been him to place them there...

Then, as he went to place the back on his shelf, he noticed something he should have noticed a long time ago: the diary was gone. GONE. As paranoid as Hasan was, he hadn't even thought that the diary would disappear, either from theft or...other means. He knew that the diary held a certain quality about it, a pull, a pull that was so similar...to the diadem? What did it all mean? The first of what? he recalled asking. Instinctively, he knew that the diadem was one of them.

Hasan took the tiara out of his bag and cast several protective wards about it to defend from intruders, but also to defend the intruders from it. Hasan wasn't quite sure what the diadem could do, but a certain feeling in his gut made him think that it probably wasn't good...and seeing as the diary belonged to Lord Voldemort, Hasan was sure that both items could do pretty nasty things.

He hid the tiara in the bottom of his trunk, safe inside the pouch that Luna had given him, (which just so happened to be charmed so that only he could open it) and stared back at the book shelf. Why? It must have been Draco...right? Who else? Unless...he vividly remembered that Lord Voldemort was a parselmouth and that the book could respond...he didn't know where he was going with this. Books couldn't just hop up and leave! Especially under such shady circumstances: Things weren't looking so great for Draco.

But thinking to the fashion in which the books were returned, it was obvious that Draco hadn't returned them. Which meant a few things: Either Draco read the books and stole the diary, Draco didn't read the books and stole the diary, Draco read the books but didn't steal the diary, or Draco didn't read the books and didn't steal the diary.

Which lead to: Who had he given the diary to?- unless it was stolen, and who had he given the books to?

Or perhaps he was collaborating? A group of two or more reading the books AND stealing the diary?

But who would want his books? Who was curious about him enough to be interested in a bunch of muggle books? Or who was curious enough about books about rings to steal them? His mind came up with Lupin, the man who saw his boggart which turned into a ring, but Lupin was a thief, and last time he checked, Draco wasn't too close with him, thinking him a werewolf...which left Snape. His jade eyes flickered in sudden recognition.

Severus Snape.

What was it with the man and prying into his business? Sure, his father and he had some sort of history, brewing potions and...wait, didn't Lupin receive the Wolfsbane Potion from him too? Perhaps, hypothetically, Lupin mentioned his boggart because of Snape's inexplicable curiosity...perhaps Draco had given Snape the books- they were godson and godfather, after all.

It was all so obvious.

And yet...the mechanism, the spark: Why was Snape so damn curious? His thoughts sprinted to the diary and the diadem. Did Snape perhaps know what they were? They belonged to Lord Voldemort at some point in life, and come to think of it, Hasan wasn't sure what side Snape was on anyway.

He turned his mind to Draco again. Maybe he had missed something? Why would Draco steal from him? Jealousy? Anger? Curiosity? Or worse...the diary itself. Did Draco feel the pull as well? An icy dread settled over Hasan's heart as he imagined the implications. Hasan had tried for the better part of two months not to let any thoughts stray towards the diary. It was sinister; it had to be! A mystery, a secret...If Snape knew, would he tell Hasan? What if he denied it? And if Lupin had indeed told Snape of his boggart, then who could he trust? Who could he trust to keep secret or to tell him the truth? No one.

So where could he get the truth? Surely not the library: too crowded, and sure to have some sort of tracking charm for one's book history. Besides, Hasan had a feeling that this wasn't something one could simply look up in a school library- maybe not in any library.

So where?

His memories.

.oOo.

Hasan strode nonchalantly out of the castle, past the hallways full of snogging couples, and into the perpetual fog of the outdoors. Disillusioned, no one stopped to question him where he had put his brain to step outside, alone, and invisible, in a field of dementors.

Invisible, Hasan felt safe(r), not being able to bring himself to maximum security with the potential of dying looming appetizingly on the horizon. He still would have preferred to have James Potter's Invisibility Cloak, but well, who needed cloaks when one had spells? He walked forward, staying in the direct entrance of the building for a quick getaway, in case of the worst. No one walked outside anymore, except for Hogsmeade on the other side of the castle, and even that was with teachers and multiple other protectors. There wasn't quidditch due to a minimal turnout. The outside was barren, lonely, and perfect for the guards of Azkaban.

The dementors sensed his presence immediately, the ten stationed outside the school swooping in a slow descent over this warm body. They paused midway however, seeming to hesitate before advancing. This boy? This person? Was he...emotionless? No. As they neared, the faint pulse of passionate waves leapt up from a contained mentality. His emotions were buried so deep that the dementors questioned if he were even food. Perhaps he was a dog? Or a cat? Or another one of those blasted owls?

Yet, even as his emotions waxed and waned, the dementors' affects were not in the least lessened. Still high in the air, Hasan felt a pressure against his scar, and cringing, he fell to the floor in a kneeling position. His vision became dim...gray...black...The dementors loomed closer, so close now. Their icy breath upon his face...white...white...WHITE!

His entire vision was swamped in brilliant, radiant, effulgent light, so pure and plain and...figures, shapes, places. He was descending, as if on a cloud, down to the Castell Estate, over the slate roof and short grass, and straight through the door, somehow finding himself in his father's room. The bedchamber of Altair Castell. There- right there, thick brown hair, so rich! Younger...the word floated to mind. Yes, younger. The diary of Tom Riddle sitting on the desk, two faces poring over it, lit only by the candles...

"That's a-?" Altair's distinct voice questioned in awe.

"It's one of them, yes. The first." the other said, a soft voice, a sweet voice...and yet so very vague. Altair reached out a gentle hand to touch the cover and a gloved one shot out to stop it. "Don't touch it."

He turned his face towards Altair, and Hasan gasped. Lucius Malfoy?

"So...how do we destroy it?" Altair asked with a sigh.

"We don't."

"What do you mean?" Altair demanded.

"I mean we can't destroy it unless we find the sword of Godric Gryffindor or a basilisk fang to stab it with." Lucius explained petulantly. "And seeing as we have neither- Oh no, we are not raising a basilisk!"

"Oh be quiet, Lucy..."

White...white...grey...black...black...emerald.

.oOo.

Altair sat at his desk, reading Lucius latest letter with interest. He had received it only month or so...but did enjoy keeping the man hanging to a point. Besides, for an owl to fly from Britain to Paris to back? Not exactly instant mail.

The letter was composed rather formally, with a Malfoy oath to top it off. A bit extreme, but very much appreciated. The more cooperation, the less room for error. He was curious that Lucius had managed to pass on the diary...he wondered where and who- though the why was fairly obvious. Lucius lived to discredit people- or, that was the joke anyway...or used to be. Altair sighed and picked up his quill.

"Dear L.A.M.,

I appreciate your oath from the bottom of my heart. As stated, here is my second task- one I know that will be very much in your power to complete, and very much in your interest to do so.

There is a house outside of the woods in Little Hangleton, by name of the Gaunt House. It has been deserted for many years. I seek possession of a golden ring set with a black stone. You will know how to find it.

Best wishes,

A.D.C."

.oOo.

Lucius Malfoy, despite having told the man NOT to send letters during the day, found himself receiving one in the middle of a rather late and lonely lunch. Most fortunately for him, Narcissa had gone out shopping (again), and Dobby wouldn't dare tell on him...where was that infernal house-elf anyway?

The excitement at receiving a letter nearly two months overdue, however, outweighed his annoyance and he quickly tore open the envelope...

...L.A.M and A.D.C. It was something he had forgotten, wasn't it? Something just beyond his reach, he felt the familiarity- another subtle reminder of Lucius' dependency. But the rest...a ring? The man wanted him to go to an abandoned house to get a ring? No 'it's in a cupboard' or 'it's under a cushion,' just a 'go to the house and hope for the best?'

But it did make him wonder: first a diary and now a ring? What connection? What significance? Even as he grabbed his black cloak and spare wand, he pondered why he was even going to do this.

Lucius apparated to the outskirts of Little Hangleton and from there, strode to the forest, passing by a large and sprawling cemetery. It was a short walk, ten minutes at most, until Lucius arrived in a dying grass field with a dilapidated hovel backed up against some trees. The House of Gaunt indeed- Hagrid's meager hut was better than this! And yet, something about the house made him decidedly uneasy. Perhaps it was the fact that the entire area wreaked of death and decay, or maybe that the house was drenched and dripping with Dark Magic.

His cloak covered him from head to toe and his wand was out, poised in front of him. Taking a breath to steal himself, Lucius strode to the door, where upon it was nailed a great shriveled snake. He curled his lip in disgust and pushed the port open with his boot.

The inside of the house wasn't much better. Spider webs, cobwebs, more bugs, glass shards,...broken tables, chairs, and nearly an inch thick of dust on everything! Even the air! Simply put, the place was a dump. Had no one thought to clean it out? Obviously not. Lucius certainly wouldn't, what with the pure Black energy radiating off the place. If not for Altair Castell, Lucius wouldn't even had stepped in it, wouldn't even have known it.

Some glass from a beer bottle crunched underfoot as the blonde wizard cautiously stepped about the site. His slate grey eyes darted for any indication of what to do, but no clues were to be found.

"Accio ring!" Nothing. "Accio Gaunt's ring!" Nothing. "Accio Altair's ring!" Nothing. "Oh, for Salazar's sake! What am I doing here?"

He ground his teeth furiously, kicking glass into the walls, when he felt a sudden pull on his magic. To the bedroom. To the bedroom!

His legs carried him into a small room jutting off from the main one, that was furnished with but three things: a table, a chair, and a bed. But as soon as he registered these, there was that gentle tug on his magic again. He pivoted and nearly gaped in surprise: a swirling orb of Dark Magic (completely invisible, but easily sensed) surrounded a small drawer in the wall. Ah! So this was what he meant by knowing, he thought, reaching for the hidden compartment. It carefully slid out, not being a proper drawer, and Lucius brought it down to study its contents thoroughly.

A single ring, crudely made of dark tarnished gold, sat conspicuously in the little container. It did indeed bear a black stone, and Lucius nearly smiled in triumph, but his job wasn't over yet. The dark magic pulsed around it in an arc, invisible yes, and yet palpable. He began muttering a string of ancient spellwork, and as the wards fell away, he realized with awe that it was not the magic, but the complexity of the overlapping spells that gave the shield that much strength.

Ten minutes later, and a sheen of sweat shone on his regal brow. The wards had finally buckled, falling away like the peal of an orange, and the ring, singularly exquisite, sat harmlessly in his palm. He wasn't sure what it was, or why he felt the need to try it on, to wear it...but he knew that anything buried beneath that much dark magic was rarely good. It was common sense.

Lucius replaced the drawer back into the slot in the wall, and tucked the ring into his inner cloak pocket. He exited the building before apparating away, wondering how the diary of Tom Riddle related to the ring of Gaunt...

.oOo.

Snape and Dumbledore flew out of the pensieve with similar expressions of horror, disgust, and loathing intermingled on their horror-struck faces. Dumbledore's features were muted, however, but the severity of the situation wasn't any less.

"That ring- is that what you've found?" Snape asked disbelievingly. "A horcrux? Is that what it is?" His sharp eyes held nothing but worry. Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"I fear it is only one of many. As we learned from Tom Riddle's beginnings, he was always fascinated by trophies. He kept a collection of stolen items I made him turn out at the orphanage. As you will also recall, he was fascinated by magic and resented both his muggle family and his muggle blood, to the point of changing his name and killing the Riddle side of his family. This happened while he was at Hogwarts, which can only mean that he had indeed created a horcrux while a student."

"And the rest of these horcruxes?" Severus asked. "Do you believe he has succeeded in creating seven?" Merlin knew he killed enough to split his soul to bits. But Severus also knew how dark and supremely dangerous magic dealing with the soul could be. Splitting a soul was...against the very laws of the universe. It would render a person less than human, a monster- namely, Voldemort.

"I have but the infinitesimal shadow of a doubt that Voldemort had not." Albus spoke. "As to the actually horcruxes themselves, I believe that Tom's fascination with this school's history has lead him to covet items belonging to Hogwarts' founders."

"The ring of Gaunt?" Severus probed.

"Yes, the Gaunt's were indeed descendants of our school's Salazar Slytherin. The ring, but also the locket you will notice. Tom found particular significance in items belonging to Slytherin as they represented both his magic and his heritage."

"And you have found the hiding place?" Snape asked. "Albus, this is madness! If there are indeed seven pieces of Voldemort's soul, they would be in the most infernal locations surrounded, I am sure, by layers and layers of the darkest wards! To have expected Potter to go on such a hunt! Sheer madness!"

"I regret my past decisions, but right now we have in our power, the ability to destroy one of Tom Riddle's horcruxes: the sword of Godric Gryffindor." He waved his arm and the old battered sorting hat came floating towards them. Snape quirked an eyebrow and Dumbledore elucidated. "Only a true Gryffindor can pull the sword from the hat. When we return, I'll call Neville to try it on- it's the least I can do for putting him through this whole ordeal...and he has borne it extremely well."

Snape nodded tersely as the clock struck six. "The sooner we get this over with the better."

"I couldn't have put it better, my boy." Dumbledore nodded with a sigh. He placed the sorting hat on the desk and took up a little silver snitch. "It's such a shame there wasn't quidditch this year, after all."

He held the portkey up to the light and then brought it back down in front of Snape. Understanding dawned on him, and as their fingertips brushed the silver shell of the portkey, the ground dissolved beneath them.

.oOo.

The two wizards, Albus and Severus, materialized outside of a distasteful little shack, the exact same one they had visited only mere minutes ago in the memories.

"The House of Gaunt." Dumbledore announced, striding purposefully to the door. A wrinkled, dead snake was nailed to the port in a serpentine wave, and Severus swallowed thickly. Just because he agreed to do this didn't mean he was any less nervous about chasing down a part of Voldemort's soul. The door creaked open and a swirl of dust puffed out to greet them. Almost immediately, Severus could feel the dark magic saturated in the very fabric of the house, pulling against his heart, the desire that all dark magic contained.

"It's here." Severus said suddenly. "I feel it."

Albus' blue eyes widened behind his spectacles and he turned to Snape with curiosity. "How can you tell? Is it the Dark Mark?"

Snape started. He actually hadn't thought of that in light of the present situation. He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal an inky black skull and snake.

"What is it?" Dumbledore demanded with concern, peering at the accursed forearm. "Oh my..."

"Yes." Snape nodded tersely. "It is indeed worrying- hardly surprising when so near a dark artifact."

"Where is it? Can you sense it?" Albus asked in earnest. His blue eyes a wild energy within his aged face. Snape stared at the headmaster a moment longer, an odd feeling coming over his heart.

"Headmaster? Albus, are you alright?" Snape asked, voice not as harsh as usual.

"Where is it? Where is it?" Albus asked frantically, "The stone!"

Damn! Snape knew the headmaster was off all night! Something wasn't right; the man was possessed. Snape stepped back in horror. If the Dark Lord truly had laid this trap, then he might have laid something specifically for Dumbledore...

"Albus! Albus! Get a grip!" Snape shouted, even as his magic urged him to enter the bedroom. "ALBUS!" he screeched as the old man made a break for the dark magical origin. Snape raced him to the bedroom, but it was too late. Dumbledore had found the secret compartment and had ripped it from the wall eyes darting hungrily inside the cavity and inside the drawer.

"The ring! The ring!" Dumbledore shouted. "I know it's in here!"

Snape lunged for the drawer, knocking it from the headmaster's hands so that it crashed against the dusty wall. It was like the Lord of the Rings all over again. But made this magical object so precious? Why did Albus want it apart from the obvious reason of destroying it.

"ALBUS!" Snape cried, gripping his shoulders in a vice-like grip. "Look. At. Me."

The old man turned his weary and tearful eyes towards Severus and the mist whirling about in those blue icy depths dulled immediately.

"S-severus..." His shoulders, wrapping in a light blue cloak sagged heavily against Snape and Snape wasn't sure quite what to do. Luckily, the headmaster regained his senses and sat up moments later, fixing Severus with a stare of one who had lived a long time. "I'm weak."

His voice was small and yet so loud in the silent house.

"No, you're not weak." Severus said tiredly. "The Dark Lord had laid a trap. He's killed millions before-"

"No. It wasn't him." Albus dissented. "It was me...all me." A great sadness emanated from the wizard, and Severus couldn't help getting swept up in the currant. "But let us turn our mind to the present. The ring. It's not here."

Severus sighed. He felt it as surely as he knew. "But it was, recently. Did the Dark Lord remove it? Or perhaps a follower?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "None that would have this knowledge. It's very possible that I had miscalculated the location, or that Voldemort had moved it."

There was silence, broken only by the distant calling of spring birds. "Wait." Snape interjected suddenly. "Hold on. This, these footprints. They're recent." His eyes widened as he took in a foot print beyond his own, right at the base of the wall. His gaze lingered before following the trail to the main room. "The question is who."

Dumbledore's face seemed to crack in a million tatters. "We're too late. But I have the distinct feeling that it was a friend." They both ventured to the main room, scanning for clues, and found glass moved from their original locations and burst against the wall. "Most likely they had not been given directions on where to find it, explaining a need for frustration release."

"And if it were the Dark Lord, he would not have left footprints, unless he was paranoid enough to make it look like a set up. A highly unlikely scenario, since the main reason he would have to remove it would be for fear of discovery. The Dark Lord wouldn't waste time creating such a puzzle." Snape concluded. "And a follower would have been told explicit instructions to leave minimal evidence. So this is not the work of a Death Eater, unless of a Death Eater gone rogue."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, stroking through his long beard. "I fear I have wasted our time, and yet, it makes me inexplicably happy to know we have an ally somewhere. Even if that ally has no means to destroy it."

But already, Snape's mind was miles away. An ally. One against the Dark Lord. One that knew something of the Dark Lord. One with enough time to set a puzzle and the luck to set it just before Dumbledore's search. No this was beyond luck. This was the work of Altair Castell.

.oOo.

"HASAN, WAKE UP!" Sirius Black bellowed in the kid's ear, slapping his face from side to side. "HASAN! YOU IDIOT! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING OUTSIDE?" SEVERUS WOULD SKIN ME ALIVE! WAKE U-"

"Quiet." Hasan hissed, his hand shooting out and grabbing Sirius' hand so that he could be spared the incoming slap.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Sirius cried, close to tears. "Can you stand up?"

Hasan nodded before his head throbbed painfully. What the hell?

"I saw your hand sticking inside. You must have hit your head on the door..." Sirius supplied, swallowing. "Just stay here, I'm going to get Poppy. Oh, wait, I can use magic-"

He levitated Hasan onto a conjured stretcher and rushed him to the infirmary, snatching a chocolate frog from some second year girl, Luna Lovegood, he thought, and shoved it in Hasan's hand. Hasan chewed at it thoughtfully letting the warmth flow through him as Sirius raced down the halls, Hasan's stretcher floating behind.

"Out of my way!" Sirius barked to lovebirds, snogging intensely outside the infirmary. "Poppy! Poppy!" He burst into the ward and levitated Hasan onto a clean white hospital bed, screaming 'Poppy!' at the top of his lungs.

The mediwitch had been enjoying a relatively pleasant year without any scrapes or injuries, largely due to fact that quidditch had been canceled. Resting in her office with a book on Magical Herbs propped up on her desk; she practically jumped in surprise at Sirius' shouts, tying on her apron as she ran.

"What is it, Sirius? What? Oh my!" Her eyes had just caught sight of Hasan's brown braid hanging off the infirmary bed, and she wet her lips nervously. Hasan's skin was a deathly, clammy pale, and his eyes were shut tight though he chewed silently on a beheaded chocolate frog. "What happened? Was it-?"

"Yes. I found him outside with his hand in the door. He must have hit his head." Sirius informed her quickly. "The dementors were swarmed around him when I opened the door, but his soul seems safe enough."

"Mr. Castell, can you hear me?" Poppy asked seriously.

Hasan cracked open his eyes and winced. "Yes."

"Good, now I'm going to cast a diagnosis spell on you and come back with a box of chocolate frogs, goodness knows we have enough of them." Madam Pomfrey muttered, casting the spell with complicated swirls of her wand. "Hmm, minor bruising to the back of the head, thankfully nothing else, though you may experience a slight headache. I'll be right back with the chocolate frogs." The mediwitch bustled away, leaving Hasan and Sirius alone.

"What were you doing out there?" Sirius demanded. "If I hadn't gotten there in time-! The dementors were surrounding you!"

Hasan groaned and covered his eyes. His skull was pounding and he wasn't sure why. His heart was racing and his entire body ached. The memory, the diary... so much information throbbing painfully against his thoughts. But the emerald light! So beautiful...

"I'm sorry." Hasan said quietly. "I just get lonely on Valentine's Day and wanted to get away."

The answer shot to Sirius' heart, for he had been on cloud nine the entire day. The thought that Hasan felt so alone as to want to be with dementors!

"Don't worry about it, kid." Sirius sighed. "Just pray that Severus won't kill me."

"Do I mean that much...to him, I mean?" Hasan queried, "Or does he really not like you?"

Sirius chuckled softly. "A little bit of both, I think. When we were children, we didn't get along very well."

"Ah. I see. What time is it?"

"Seven." Black answered. "We'll bring dinner to you later."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks." Hasan groaned. Just then, Poppy came back with the chocolate amphibians, and shoved a couple in Hasan's hands.

"Eat up, eat up! I told Albus not to let dementors guard the school! But I suppose we can file a formal complaint now that you've been attacked." she added thoughtfully. "Yes, I'd like to see Fudge worm his way out of that one: Fudge insists Dementors stay at school after Student almost Dies! Ha! But are you alright, Mr. Castell?"

Hasan nodded. "Fine. I just have a killer headache."

"Well, we'll be alerting your head of house as soon as he gets back." Poppy told him.

Gets back?

"Where is he?" Hasan asked sharply.

"Oh, well. He and the headmaster went out on some errand or other." Poppy said with a frown. "But he disappeared three hours ago. Sirius, do you want to check the office?"

"Yeah, just hang tight, Hasan." Sirius mumbled and walked out the door.

Hasan's eyelids fell heavily over his jaded orbs, and before he knew it, sleep was leading him away...

.oOo.

Snape sat in a white infirmary chair beside Hasan's sleeping form. As soon as he and Dumbledore had reached the castle, Sirius Black had come bursting in, requesting both of their prescences.

"Dumbledore, Sn-severus! Hasan, the dementors!"

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes at the fact that Black called him by his name hardened at the second part of the yell.

"He's in the Infirmary." Sirius had panted. "He was fine and then he just sort of blacked out."

Dumbledore had sagged where he stood.

"Go. I'll talk to Cornelius about the dementors."

"Are you going to be alright?" Severus had asked hastily, heading towards the door.

"Yes, go."

And now, Severus found himself alone, but for Hasan's unconscious form, with a quill and parchment in his hand. Altair said not to contact him unless in a case of dire emergency...but Severus had a feeling that this qualified. The color had returned to Hasan's cheeks, but otherwise, he was out like a light. His chest rose shallowly and an open box of chocolate frogs lay on the bedside table.

How should he begin?

Dear Castell, your son nearly received his first kiss! (From a dementor.)

Yeah, he was sure that would go over well. Severus heaved a sigh. He almost wished that today had been another normal, absolutely boring Valentine's Day...Could he never catch a break?

He was still exhausted from his escapade with the headmaster, and the extremely condensed lesson on Voldemort's past. Learning that Hasan had been outside, unconscious, and surrounded by dementors really put the icing on the cake. But still, he had to think why. Was there a correlation between the missing ring and Hasan being outside?

While Hasan was no doubt connected to rings, Snape was highly skeptical that he was the one who stole the horcrux. Still...Snape peered at Hasan's fingers and spotted a most peculiar silver band on his hand. It wasn't gold nor was it set with anything, but Snape found himself gently sliding it off and examining it. Suddenly the ring began to burn, not enough to harm anyone, but just enough to alert of...wait, were they words? His obsidian eyes widened imperceptibly as his grip tightened on the silver band.

'Hasan, are you alright? N.L.'

A protean charm? His gaze trailed back to Hasan, then down again at the ring. Had he cast the protean charm? Where had he even learned such a- Altair. Of course. But if he knew this, then did he know others? Did he know how to cut through the Dark Lord's wards? The idea was extremely unlikely.

Severus slipped the ring back on the boy's finger and began to write.

"A. Castell,

Your son nearly got kissed by a dementor today. But as I'm already troubled to write to inform you of his wellbeing, do you or do you not know anything about Gaunt's ring? Humor me. I don't believe in luck.

Regards,

S.S."

.oOo.

Altair Castell was enjoying a very busy Valentine's Day. Despite living alone and in hiding, with a snake as company, a broad smile painted the sage lines of his face. He had just received Lucius' letter and now the ring lay upon the table, odd parts of it glinting from the crude indents and make.

"Ah! The Deathly Hallows!" Altair hummed to himself, studying the triangular insignia. It had been his favorite fairy tale growing up, and was as recognizable as the Dark Mark. He believed in the myth to an extent, but the point was, it could possibly be an indicator of the Dark Lord's belief in the three hallows as well. Which meant that sooner or later, the wizard would go after the wand, and thus in turn, Dumbledore might possibly die...But this was of little consequence.

He had one of them now. It had been as simple as wizard's chess! Tell the pawn to move and he moved! Tell the pawn to fetch and he fetched! But Lucius was no ordinary pawn, if anything, Altair thought of him as the queen- not all owing to his flowing mane and tendency for drama...

He picked up Lucius' letter and scanned over the lines once more. The house had been covered in inch thick dust, full of broken glass and bugs. He told of the location of the ring, but also asked for its significance. The two questions were thus: Have you destroyed my memories? Do I have the chance of getting them back?

"Dear Lucius,

I thank you for your speedy delivery and consideration for venturing into such a dreadful place. As thank you, here are the answers to your three questions: 1) The ring has a separate significance for separate intents. For instance, it belonged to Marvolo Gaunt, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. For him, it was an heirloom, a priceless testament to his heritage. To me, it is simply a tool. And to you, it is but a task on the rung. 2) Have I destroyed your memories? I thought I had covered my tracks well enough- apparently not. Your memories are still in existence, but not in my possession. They're safe enough. 3) A chance at getting them back? Perhaps, perhaps not. It all depends on how well and if you obey. By the by, have you ever heard of Slytherin's locket? It once belonged to the Gaunt's but a certain tragedy overthrew them. Perhaps some prying is in Order?

Happy Valentine's Day,

Altair"

Just as he sealed it up, Raven came hooting into the room through the window. His eyebrows rose in surprise, as she wasn't supposed to bring him something unless in a dire emergency. Hasan...

He let Raven nibble on an owl treat as he relieved the owl of its burden. He sliced open the letter with wandless magic and read cursorily...

... Dementors? When had Hogwarts gotten dementors? And why? Was the Dark Lord about to return? Was the school undergoing a reform? Who was supposed to control them? He was ready to burn Albus Dumbledore to the ground. But aside from this, Severus' knowledge of the ring intrigued him. He knew how well-informed Severus was about these things that no one knew about, and so wasn't gasping in surprise.

What amused him, however, was how quickly Severus had been able to deduce he was involved. And hang on a second...Severus knew something about the ring as well. Altair had no doubt that Albus had cracked the code, so perhaps Severus was closer to the headmaster than he had previously thought...interesting. So close, in fact, that they probably had gone after the ring today- it didn't take a genius to figure out where it would be hidden, and if Lucius didn't cover up his tracks...well, it was no surprise that Severus had made a guess.

"Dear Severus,

Thank you for informing me. I'm worried, of course, but I know you will do everything in your power to help Hasan recover. As for your second point, I hope this answer sates you for a while:

The ring? I'm staring at it.

Best regards,

A.C."

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 17: Taking up the Helm

Severus stared down at the parchment in his hand, head bent, greasy hair falling over his face, and great hooked nose hanging in his line of vision. He had the ring. Altair Castell had the ring. Severus took several deep breaths to steady himself; his head was feeling light.

What the fuck.

"Sweet Merlin! Do you have any mercy for me?"

The candles flickered, casting shadows across the cleared desk and crumpled page. The headmaster was currently oblivious, and yet, seemed more alive than ever. He was finally taking up the helm he had thankfully placed down after the battle with Grindelwald. He was finally taking responsibility for the fate of the Wizarding world...just so that Altair Castell could come swooping down and swipe the ring from their snatches! But why? For what purpose? The man was an idiot! What had Severus missed? And his son, presently unconscious in the hospital wing- Albus was talking with Fudge about the removal of the dementors from the premises. What had the boy been doing outside anyway?

The ring, the boggart, the parseltongue, the Animagus, the memories... He wondered, even now, if Lupin knew too much. A simple obliviate would do to erase all the evidence warranting Hasan Castell for investigation- Merlin knew he did not want his loyalties questioned because of Altair Castell of all reasons! Just when the light had come to view him as a semi-human being, they would all jump at the chance to color him black and incriminate him once more: in league with Death Eaters, hiding valuable secret from Dumbledore. Yes, Rita would have a field day.

But he wouldn't. And why? It was unnecessary- what if Siri- er, Black found out and linked it to him, where would he be then? Oliviating people left and right, no, that would be illogical. And, although he didn't want to admit it, he felt a sort of loyalty to Lupin for keeping his secret about his investigation on Hasan. Maybe Lupin would hear something, see something that would help? Oh, who was he kidding? The damn wolf was growing on him and no way was he fucking around with anyone's brains.

He groaned and tossed the letter in his drawer. It was late, entirely too late to be up thinking. He walked slowly into his chambers and summoned a bottle of firewhiskey. Perhaps it was time to just unwind? The sweet burning taste hit his tongue dryly, sliding over his palate like a desert snake...

.oOo.

Hasan cracked open his slick slanted lids, large smooth scales brushing pleasurably against the cold wooden floor. His tail extended far behind his head, twenty feet or so, impressive among any snake. Gleaming pointed fangs protruded from his strong jaws, a thin, papery tongue darting out to taste the sultry air.

It was morning, and the sun struggled through the thick black curtains to cast shapeless shadows on the floor. His plan was running smoothly, and yet, he needed another, he needed another...And poor Pettigrew never did possess the brains to avoid capture. After this one, he'd be able to make Nagini so completely a part of him and absorb enough Dark Magic to regain a form. A crippled form, a terrible, pitiful form, but a form none the less...

A creak at the door alerted of the man's presence. He was called Frank Bryce by the locals and was once the Riddle's gardener, he still was, if you ignored the fact that the Riddle's were dead, killed in this very house in fact without any indication of how, many, many years ago. The electric light buzzed and flickered in the foyer, as Frank entered the manor with a set of jingling keys. Hasan watched two feet step before his eyes, clad in heavy leather boots with an untied lace, and a cane. He curled into himself beneath the foyer chair, head tilting upward at just the right angle to see the man. He was an older gentleman, heavily lined face, tired but sharp eyes, and an overall slight disposition. Not as significant, valuable, or difficult as Hasan would have liked, but he would have to do.

The hallway lights switched on full blast with the exclamation of, "My god-!" and a dropping jaw. His cane rose, poised to jab at the serpent, but Hasan was too fast! Lightning quick, his body lunged forward in a powerful release of his tightened muscles, and his long thick fangs protruded into the cane, snapping it cleanly, splinters flying everywhere.

"Ge' off! Ge' off! I'll kill those Lexington boys, always playing practical jokes!"

Frank tossed the desecrated stick to the ground, hitting the floor beside Hasan. Pitiful muggle, Hasan smirked, rearing against the padded cushion of the chair before seizing the man's good leg between two powerful jaws. His venom dripped into the bleeding flesh; he could feel the poison leaving him, replenishing, flowing. The man let out a strangled scream, falling crippled against the wall without use of either of his legs. His hands went out to beat the serpent, slapping wildly against the scaly armor, to no avail. Hasan clenched tighter in warning, the rest of his body following in a coil, slowly constricting about the man's thigh and upper knee. Tighter...tighter...

"AH! Goddammit!" Frank had no family, and most of the town thought he was either insane or a murderer. Who would answer his pleas at 4 in the morning? Who would dare come running to the Riddle House? For Frank Bryce? Surely not...

Hasan chuckled around his mouth full of blood, relishing in the hopelessness rolling off the man in waves. He let the energy fuel him, internalizing it within himself! Ah! Glorious dark energy! Whooshing like a broken damn; the floodgates were open! Hasan spat out a hunk of clothing and wrapped himself tighter, poising for the final strike.

SNAP!

His jaw disfiguring the man's skull, his teeth ripping through flesh and bone and blood. The man was incessantly screaming now, or perhaps Hasan had finally just noticed? No matter, the man stopped struggling, his limbs going slack, his screams a gurgle...

Dead. Frank Bryce was dead. Ah! What it felt like to be this empowered! The Dark Magic was swirling about him, enticing and sweet and seductive. He breathed it in and shut his lids.

Nagini, you will be the sixth. The sixth. My sixth...

.oOo.

Hasan's jade eyes snapped open, the bright light of the infirmary flooding through him like a laser beam. He cringed, biting his lip as the sound returned around him.

"He's awake!" Neville screamed, seemingly on the verge of tears.

"Thank Merlin, took you long enough." Draco muttered, though he too sounded very much relieved.

Hasan removed his hand and peered about himself in curiosity. Surrounding his white infirmary bed stood Luna, Draco, Neville, Hermione, Tracey, and Daphne. They wore similar expressions of concern and relief, but in his mind's eye, he could only see the blood. The gushing sanguine liquid, the taste of burnt iron dry on his tongue and in his nose and-

"Quick! Get Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione yelled with widened eyes as someone conjured a basin, and he dumped his head and purged his body.

"So that's what it's used for!" Luna's voice floated brightly. Glancing up, Hasan found that it was her slender hands that grasped the sides of the black bowl. "Evanesco!" she said as he recovered, and the waste and its container vanished instantly. She handed him a glass of water and another basin for him to rinse his mouth, vanishing both of these soon after their use had run out.

"W-wow. Good thinking, Luna." Hermione said breathlessly.

"Yes, thank you." Hasan spoke, yet his voice came out scratched and dry, though he couldn't remember screaming.

His companions looked at each other warily and he frowned at their obvious secrecy. "What is it?" Hasan demanded, glaring heatedly at Draco. He wasn't certain of the entire story, but he knew that Draco had, in some way or another, lied about either the diary or the books. This was his chance to redeem himself and so help him if he wasn't ready to speak...

Draco's pale cheeks flushed a slightly as he nodded. "You, you were ah-" he scuffed his shoes and Daphne looked down at him expectantly. "-muttering in your sleep."

Neville gave a few quick, nervous nods, his hands a tangled mess in front of him.

"About what?" Hasan asked nonchalantly. Had they heard? Did they know? Did they know that he-? That he was-? That he had been-?

"Nothing really-"

"Oh, for Salazar's sake, Draco!" Daphne yelled, "Just tell the boy! Hasan, I'm not sure what your dream was about, but you just kept muttering 'the sixth, the sixth' over and over."

"Oh." Hasan said. He swallowed and looked up at Luna, calming himself as he gazed at her misty orbs. "It was actually a date that I was planning on having one of the meetings."

"Meetings?" Tracey piped up.

"Yes!" Luna interjected dreamily. "Hasan's going to teach us to cast the Patronus charm."

The Slytherin girls blinked in shock. "So is that why you went outside? To practice?" Daphne screeched. "You could have died! Or been kissed! Or both! Hasan, I swear if you don't kill yourself, I will!"

Hasan shrugged stoically.

"Don't you dare shrug like that, Hasan Castell!" Tracey snapped.

"W-would you like to come to a meeting next year?" Neville offered hastily from the side. "Hasan's not really in any shape to start training people now, but I'm sure we can manage with more of us later..."

"Oooh! Like a Defense Association?" Hermione echoed. "That sounds like fun!"

But while the rest of them were carried off by the prospect, Draco looked at Hasan oddly, shrewdly. In a way he would look at Ron or Lavender or Pansy when in the halls.

"The sixth what?" Draco asked bluntly. "You threw up! I want to know. You keep everything to yourself! I'm concerned about you!" His voice rose higher and higher, face screwing up heatedly as if fighting against it, "No, don't just sit there looking at me like that! You fucking went after dementors and I intend to know why!" His hands were clenched in fists at his sides and his silver eyes were razor sharp.

"Draco!" Tracey gasped, glancing about wildly for Madam Pomfrey to come shoo them out for disturbing her patients.

"No, Draco needs to blow off steam like steamed dumplings." Luna informed her with a sad smile. The tension loosened somewhat, and Hasan grabbed this moment to soothe the ruffled feathers.

"I...am sorry." Hasan sighed, looking at his hands which he innocently clasped. "I didn't mean to get into trouble with the dementors. They make me feel sick to my stomach, you saw on the train." Hasan pleaded. "And the sixth really was just a date. Can you make it? April 6th?"

Draco's face softened marginally. "Don't do something stupid like that again, Castell." He clapped the boy playfully on the back, but Hasan could see, out of the corner of his eye, a glint of suspicion, rightfully there, but troubling all the same.

"It's great," Hasan began, looking at each and every one of them in the eye, "to have friends like you." His jade eyes landed on Luna's silvery orbs and her face blanketed out into a porcelain mask. Feelings shut tight behind a bolted door. Hasan shut his eyes. "Merci."

.oOo.

Lupin made his way groggily from the bedroom to the kitchenette, dressed in a shaggy gray bathrobe. Sirius was waiting for him at the table, sitting bent, with his head tilted to the side and eyes staring tiredly into space. It had been about a month since the proposal, and the marriage was scheduled for the coming summer. But it was also a month since the dementors had attacked and nearly killed a student, and the creatures were only just being led away today.

Lupin sighed as he imagined how Sirius must be feeling: the tumult of emotions, the alleviation of nightmares; the dementors were finally gone and Sirius was finally and truly free. While Sirius remained at Grimmauld Place from time to time, his main residence was inside the castle. His ancestral home was simply too...morbid, not that his mother or Kreacher helped that at all. Dobby stopped by rather often, helping to maintain the semi-habitable conditions that Kreacher would thoughtlessly destroy. Sirius was rather fond of the little elf, even though he wasn't sure where exactly he came from. In fact, Sirius simply assumed that he had been hired sometime during his absence, which was a long one, from his family. It wasn't that far-fetched: The Blacks were rich and family stretched for miles. If the last lineage of some obscure part-Black died, then their house-elf would be sent to the Black heir, and Dobby was, after all, a Black-owned house-elf...

"Siri?" Remus ventured, voice hoarse from sleep. He edged around the table and leaned over Sirius' shoulder. "What are you thinking of?"

The curly haired man shrugged, hands curling on the table.

"D...dementors." Sirius murmured resignedly. He lifted his great head to stare up at his mate and nodded knowingly to himself. "Fear, in essence." A slight smile tugged at his lips, and Remus felt himself smile in response.

"I see."

Remus tapped the table with his wand, and two mugs of milky coffee appeared.

"Thanks." Sirius muttered, wrapping his fingers around the warm cup.

"You know, Dumbledore has wanted them gone since day one." Lupin began mildly, sliding smoothly into the chair beside his mate. "I suppose Hasan was a blessing in disguise. The Ministry had to listen-"

"Oh, how can you say that?" Sirius wailed. "He could have died! He only went outside to be alone and could have died!"

Lupin frowned into his drink as he took in the entire conversation. Sirius was obviously in need of some venting, but not about this, he was connecting the deaths of James and Lily to Hasan Castell. Without Peter, without dementors...but looking at Sirius now, he was clearly not in the mood to have a cathartic soul-healing session. Actually, Lupin was pretty sure he never was and never would be. Thus, he resolved to himself to entertain the current topic for Sirius' sake.

"Sirius, this is not your fault. The dementors were placed because of Peter, not you, and Hasan only went outside because-"

His amber eyes widened in sudden elucidation.

"Because-" Sirius echoed numbly when Lupin didn't elaborate. Sirius glanced to his side and was shocked to find an expression of astonishment and dawning realization. "What? What is it, Moony?" he asked excitedly.

"Who wouldn't know that the school was surrounded by soul sucking dementors? Isn't it a little suspicious that the one day everyone is too involved with er-" Lupin blushed brightly before plowing ahead,-"other things to pay attention to anything else, that Hasan decides to slip from the castle and take a pleasant little breather? Wouldn't he feel the effects as soon as he opened the door? And yet you saw him lying with his head against the door, and his hand inside the building?"

Sirius, a look of bewilderment but also of an inkling of comprehension painting his face, stuttered in response. "Y-yeah. But do you honestly think he was meeting someone?"

Lupin shook his head. "I'm not sure what to believe, but for him to be in that position suggests that he was standing up far enough away from the door, that he knew what he was doing and the risks. He also had passed out, so he might have been meeting someone? But then, wouldn't they have been outside as well? No, I don't think he was having a rendezvous."

"So...er, suicide?" Sirius asked. "That's the only explanation. Unless of course, we just accept that he was outside for a breath of fresh air..."

Lupin shrugged and took a long draught of his coffee. "He's a mystery. A boy who can talk to snakes- unheard of except for Salazar and You-Know-Who! And his boggart! Not to even mention the interest Severus has shown the child."

"Snape?" Sirius asked, "Well, no wonder he likes the kid! He's a Slytherin through and through. I talked to him one day in the trophy room- not sure what he was doing in there- but I told him a bit about James and quidditch."

Remus stared as if in a trance. "James? You talked to him about James?"

Sirius nodded, wetting his lips. "Yes, why?" Why was it that talking of James was bad? Hadn't Remus always told him that talking was one of the many paths to healing? Or perhaps he was just irritated because Hasan was a kid and tragedies shouldn't be dumped on kids...?

Remus shook his head. "Hasan's boggart. It was Harry."

"Harry Potter?" Sirius gaped. "W-what? How?"

"I don't know why." Lupin admitted wearily. "But it makes me wonder why the Potter's keep popping up around him. With Harry gone, you don't think he knows something, do you- ah..."

"What? What?" Sirius asked eagerly.

"Snape. That's why he's so curious. Ever since his first year, or at least what I've heard from Minerva, Snape's been keeping an eye on him."

"But that can't be right!" Sirius protested, smashing his mug to the table. "Hasan can't have anything to do with Harry's disappearance! Dumbledore would know, wouldn't he?"

Remus sighed. "Yeah...perhaps. Maybe his family just brainwashed him into believing ill of the Boy-Who-Lived, and he was just innocently looking at trophies, and innocently having a breather. Maybe Snape's just curious about Hasan like the rest of us."

The two looked at each other, and Lupin placed his hand over Sirius' under the table. Grief.

"I'm sorry. How can a schoolboy even be involved?" Lupin sighed. "I'm just trying to connect everything with Harry- 'where can we look next? Where is he?' And while Hasan's unusual, I don't believe he's a bad kid." He shook his head, "No, I'm just... I'm such a hypocrite, Padfoot; I'm having such a hard time moving on. Just because Hasan's different doesn't warrant suspicion..."

Sirius nodded slowly. "No, he doesn't. Well-" he glanced at the clock and back at Lupin, "-we better get ready. Dumbledore wants us to meet at Grimmauld Place at twelve."

"Did he say why?"

"Yeah, something about the Order of the Phoenix."

.oOo.

Grimmauld Place, ordinarily so dark and eerie, was now filled with a collection of the most unusual people. Dumbledore took the head of the room, wearing a shimmering purple robe and a matching hat. It was nearing the end of March, and the Ministry had only just pulled the necessary strings to rid the school of dementors. Fudge was less than happy about the entire situation, as he wanted to be seen protecting the school, and yet as the hero of the school children all the same- which would have been perfectly possible if not for the soul sapping creatures at the heart of it all.

Withdrawing the dementors was a sign of going back on his entire 'protect Hogwarts' promotion, but keeping them there was simply not an option! Imagine if Neville Longbottom was next? The uproar he would have to deal with! Albus Dumbledore had, of course, promised to try to keep the horror story under control, but hinted at how funny things could just slip out. In actuality, he had no intention of letting the story leak out either. For one, he was all very confused about the child known as Hasan Castell, and if investigations were made, Albus would rather the boy be very much away. For two, he wanted those vile things gone. Just thinking about the complaints Minerva would have about quidditch being cancelled for a second time was enough to give him a headache!

"Welcome! Welcome!" Albus called out loudly, silencing the talkative crowd at once. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice, and a special thank you for Remus and Sirius for letting us all into your home." The couple nodded in acknowledgement, and the headmaster continued. "I have called this meeting in the hopes of reviving the Order of the Phoenix."

At this, Molly Weasley's eyes went huge and she gaped at Dumbledore for all it was worth. Arthur, beside her, schooled his features as he tried to understand what it all meant. The Order hadn't been called since before Voldemort killed the Potters! And then, there had been no reason to keep it going... could it be? The Weasley's paled.

"B-but why, Albus?" Molly asked shakily. "Surely there's nothing for us to do!"

Albus smiled sadly and shook his head. "Alas, there is always more to do. More specifically, I have made a very grave mistake."

Augusta Longbottom, dressed in a moss green coat, gasped in supposed realization. "I knew it!" she screeched accusingly, pointing her finger at Dumbledore. "I knew Neville didn't have the magic in him!"

Minerva fidgeted uneasily beside the headmaster before looking challenging up at him. Albus, either oblivious or pretending to be, simply shook his head again. "The part of the prophecy as was published in the Daily Prophet is authentic. However, I have come to realize that it is absolute drivel that a boy, a child, should be under such a burden! How can we place all our hopes in a single person? It is absurd to even consider!"

"Albus, are you saying that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?" Kingsley asked bluntly.

"I am afraid it is so." Albus sighed to the utter horror and astonishment of the Order, "Though to be correct, Voldemort was never truly gone."

Severus cringed only slightly at the name, about to step out of the shadows at his cue.

"But Har- Neville killed him!" Sirius protested. "He can't be! There's no way that he can be!"

The chatter started up again, sweeping through the Auror department: Tonks, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye Moody, with a fury. Severus sighed as Albus sent him a pleading look. He decided it was time to step from the comfort of the corner.

"It is true." Severus attested quietly, though his words were heard everywhere. "He is back. Vvvoldemort is back." He rushed over the name, finding it disgusting as it rolled over his tongue. He had determined that if the Longbottom spawn could say it, then so could he- damn Dumbledore and his logic!

"But how can you be sure?" Mad-Eye asked shrewdly, clearly provoking the man. Snape's lip curled into a sneer and he shoved up his left sleeve to reveal the blackened Dark Mark.

"B-but Har- Neville!" Sirius protested weakly. He did not just get busted out of Azkaban to deal with an evil Dark Lord!

"Regrettably did not succeed in killing him." Snape finished dryly.

Augusta huffed and glared at Dumbledore. "So you're telling me that Neville was fated to kill that monster, and you were going to insist he do so ALONE?"

"The prophecy-" Albus muttered.

"I don't give a damn about the prophecy! Who really rid of the Dark Lord?" Augusta cried.

"Potter!" Minerva burst out. "Harry Potter banished the Dark Lord! Potter! And the boy-!"

"That is enough!" Albus snapped, cutting his deputy off with a glare. Minerva breathed heavily, the truth bursting within her. How could Dumbledore even hope to continue this?

"But the prophecy could refer to either one of them, isn't that right?" Lupin cut in mildly, having the air of innocence about him.

Augusta whipped around to scrutinize the werewolf before nodding curtly. "I see."

"See what? See what?" Molly asked, her forehead wrinkling.

"Both Neville and Harry could have been the prophecy's object." Arthur clarified lightly, "But Harry was the one to banish the Dark Lord, and Neville is expected to kill him. So together..."

"Oh! I understand." Molly said, the color coming back into her cheeks.

"But how do we know he's really back?" Tonks asked tentatively, "He didn't call you, did he?" she asked Snape.

Severus shook his head. "No. But the Dark Lord, despite his many followers, is more than capable of acting on his own. A schoolboy cannot hope to come close to defeating him."

"How do we know that the prophecy's not referring to Potter?" Arthur asked again. "He already vanquished the Dark Lord once, perhaps he has powers? We need to be sure."

Albus sighed. They kept looping about in circles, and yet, he had to let them speak. Otherwise, it was almost guaranteed that they wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

"I wouldn't object to giving Neville more help." Augusta chimed in.

"Indeed not." Minerva said in approbation. "We need all the help we can get."

Severus began to slink back into the corner, unwilling to keep him and his arm on display for any longer than necessary.

"So where is he?" Moody demanded. "Can't you summon him back?"

Minerva seemed to glow in complacence and Severus rolled his eyes. Could the witch never let anything go? To their surprise, the headmaster actually stepped in.

"Which is one of the very few things I had wished to talk to you about. Harry Potter is gone."

...

"GONE?" Augusta screeched. "You mean that you lost him and replaced him with my son?"

"No! Not at all!" Albus said pleasantly, a bead of sweat on his ancient visage. "As stated, the prophecy could refer to Neville as well! But, er, yes we have lost Harry Potter."

Kingsley gaped horrified. "Does the Ministry-?"

"Yes- How else do you think it's been kept quiet for so long?" Severus asked icily. Kingsley glared back.

"They should have told the Auror department at least." Shacklebolt muttered.

Albus looked troubled. "I admit I have made a great many of mistakes, but right now, more than anything, we need to present a united front against Voldemort. He is back and I am not about to risk any child's life for the Greater Good." he promised resolutely.

.oOo.

March first brought about Ron's birthday, except for the fact that hardly anyone cared. Hermione, of course, had gotten him a book on Potions ingredients, hoping to spare him more of Snape's tirade, which only ended up making him more depressed. Lavender had brought him some sweets (made courtesy of the house-elves,) but that was only because she was his girlfriend.

Hasan found himself in his private dorm a lot, sitting down and just thinking. Draco was always holed in his room, doing goodness knows what, and Neville was always accompanied by the youngest Weasley. But it was good, Hasan supposed, because he needed the time to think. He was not feeling alone. He was NOT! What the hell was happening to him? The vision at the Hospital Wing, what was that? He had been a snake and he had killed someone. And why had it felt so good? And so uncontrollable? It was infuriating to be able to recall the incident with clarity, and yet have no idea how and why it came to be.

But obviously it had something to do with Voldemort. How could it not? It took place in the Riddle House, and Hasan was ready to wager that somehow, Tom Marvolo Riddle was involved with the deaths of his relatives. How he knew this was also a mystery- perhaps the snake's thoughts, Nagini, was it? Had become his own? Or perhaps he had known this all along and the vision had triggered it? But the point was, Tom Marvolo Riddle was Lord Voldemort, the diary was Lord Voldemort's (which was missing by the way), quite possibly the diadem in his trunk, and now the snake that had killed- that Hasan had been inside while it killed- also belonged to Lord Voldemort.

How? How could this be? Quirrellmort had fled the chamber of the stone as a wraith and had sometime after this, summoned rat Peter Pettigrew to his side. Which would indicate a need for assistance, quite understandable for being less than alive. But if Peter had not reached the Dark Lord, then who had helped him? Hasan would also guess that the evil wizard did not like being helpless...so it was only common sense to assume Nagini was his aid. And what was this about the sixth? If Nagini was his sixth, then who or what were the other five? Or rather three, since the diary and tiara were already accounted for. And what were they anyway?

It was too dangerous to research in Hogwarts- what if someone found out? What if he were investigated and Altair was found?- and it wasn't something he felt comfortable sharing with Neville or Luna, or even Altair. If he truly was Harry Potter, then there was bound to be some sort of connection beyond the physical scar. What if the vision was true and he had been inside Voldemort's mind? And how could it be, if he had clearly seen through the eyes of the snake?

Hasan gasped- possession. As strikingly obvious as it seemed now it was rather a tricky situation. Hasan inside Voldemort's mind, while he possessed some magical murdering snake. It was all rather unorthodox, and to be honest, Hasan was freaking out.

Who in Merlin's name could he tell? No one. That's right- because he was truly Harry-Bloody-Potter. And there was no way in hell he was going to be turned into the golden boy like Neville had. He could just imagine the lengths Dumbledore would take to keep him under his control! And once news of Altair got out, he would be done for! The old man would probably use Altair as a bargaining chip: his freedom or his protection for your cooperation.

Needless to say, Hasan was not going to volunteer.

Hasan sighed as he glanced at his calendar. Just a few more days and it would be the sixth. Just a few more days and he could see Luna, Neville, and Draco again, and perhaps pretend that nothing ever happened.

.oOo.

April sixth came soon enough, and Luna was absolutely glowing. She had been practicing for about a year now to get to know herself and envision herself as an animal. At first, she had supposed that a rabbit was good- white, fluffy, cute, small, and very agile. But then she thought about who she really was inside: a psychic trapped inside the body of a girl. A divine power viewed as a friendless lunatic. It didn't bother her most of the time, for she appreciated the privacy of being overlooked, but lately, she often found herself wishing for more regard.

Just because her peers didn't understand her, didn't mean that she was less than them. Sometimes she would contribute to a debate on Salamander blood or other, and the other Ravenclaws would simply brush her off and continue on with the debate. It was frustrating! What if, one day, she had a premonition that could save the world- what then? Would they shove her off as well?

It wasn't a hunger exactly, not like Ron who was constantly vying for attention, but it was certainly prominent. Wasn't that a human right? A given? People want recognition. Raw recognition. Not the flashy cameras and lights, like Neville. Not the whispers, tabloids, and reverence, but the simple "I am going to treat you like a human being," type of respect. And the more Luna was neglected, the more this desire burgeoned within her. It was one of the many reasons she sympathized with Hasan. She didn't know anything exactly, not really, but she knew enough to figure out that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was a parselmouth, a Slytherin, and in possession of the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. What more? What more did she sense but could not make sense of?

A bunny? Hardly. She was not merely curious, but inquisitive, not merely a lovely person, but a gifted soul wrapped in a girl's body. Bunny? Luna giggled. No. Something able, something smart, and something respected. In other words, her.

She passed by the blank wall for the third time, opening the door to the secret room just as the embellishments were beginning to form. The inside was large, a very spacey, but warm type of sitting area with a giant rectangular rug and a table. Chandeliers hung about the ceiling in no particular pattern, and the walls were painted a soft yellow. She waited a bit and Neville and Hasan came in presently, followed by a very tired looking Draco Malfoy.

"Hello." said Hasan with a slight wave. He had a small brown bag that he quickly revealed to be holding the last two vials. They were still fresh until the end of next year, so he had no qualms about feeding them to his friends.

"Hi, Hasan!" Luna beamed. "I'm so excited! What do you think you'll be, Neville?"

Neville shrugged, though he had an air of confidence around him that was not admittedly there before. Hasan inwardly frowned- it must have been Ginny to boost his ego- had the headmaster panned for this too?

"I'd rather not be wrong." Neville answered finally.

"Are you that scared of being wrong?" Hasan queried bluntly.

Neville turned to him and snorted. "Hardly. But I haven't an opinion either way. I just hope I'm powerful."

"Then perhaps you'll be a lion." Hasan quipped with a sneer so uncharacteristic of the apathetic boy.

Neville paled considerably, knowing that some line had been crossed. But what?

"I'm sorry." he said, but it came out challenging, not how he intended it at all. And yet, as it left his mouth, he thought 'try me.'

Draco glanced uneasily between them. "Gifts can't be taken back." he reminded Hasan lightly.

"Unless they were never given!" Luna chimed in happily.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Neville said again, sounding sincere this time. "Sometimes I just can't help myself." he blushed abashedly as Hasan looked on coolly. Had the golden boy finally learned to act? Or was he breaking Dumbledore's conditioning?

"You've done the work." Hasan said. "I can hardly decide whether you get the treat at the end, can I?" He tossed the vial to Neville and the other to Luna. "Drink up."

Neville sighed. This was not how he imagined things to go at all! Why was he even acting like this? Like he was so much better? He glanced at the vial and felt sick to his stomach. This was still Hasan, not a slimy Slytherin, but his friend from last year. The friend who truly had defeated Voldemort in the chamber with the stone.

"Hasan- I- I'm sorry, alright. I'm not sure why I'm...I can't do this." His shoulders sagged as he shook his head.

"I assure you there's nothing wrong with it. Professor Snape brewed it himself." Hasan said, watching as Neville's face went predictably white.

"You mean-?" Neville gaped. He didn't know what to think. Hadn't he, on some level, figured this out? Who else would brew something this complex? But then, he didn't feel right taking it if Professor Snape brewed it, but if it truly was a harmful substance? He just felt so terrible about his actions downed the potion in a single gulp, and Hasan stepped back satisfactorily. Nothing like a bit of redemption to get a person moving!

Neville felt the potion's effects immediately. Icy cold was seeping through his muscles and his skin, and he shivered involuntarily. Was this supposed to happen? He paled as his thoughts revved and his eyes searched out Hasan's through the peculiar white mist that surrounded him. Hasan simply stared back, noting to himself the color of the aura with mild curiosity. Suddenly, his shoulders rolled back, so impossibly far back as his entire body melted down. Neville hissed in agony as his bones began to shift and relock in place. Some birthday present...he thought as his hands fanned out. His face was becoming narrower, sharper, flatter, and his nose jutted out as if on a stilt. Just as suddenly, it all ended, and Neville took his hesitant first step.

"Aw! Neville's a bird!" Luna cried cheerfully. "Can you fly?"

Neville blinked once and looked from side to side. Wings. Brown, feathered wings. This was incredible! He thrust out his wings as far as they could go and attempted to flap them rather clumsily. Hasan hid a smirk behind his hand, but Draco was not so polite.

"Oh Merlin! Neville, you've got to learn how to fly!" Draco laughed loudly, imagining how it would look if Neville were making a getaway and couldn't get off the ground!

Neville squawked and transformed back with a glare.

"It's not funny." He pouted, but he was smiling all the same.

"You're a hawk to be more specific." Hasan informed them thoughtfully. "I'm sure flying won't be so difficult."

"Have you forgotten last year?" Neville laughed freely. "I nearly killed myself!"

"Perhaps it's a sign then." Hasan said cryptically. "Learn to fly."

Luna was nodding with vigor. "You can try out for quidditch next year!"

Draco rolled his eyes- as if anyone could hope to beat Slytherin! Not with Draco on the team, he thought smugly.

"Luna?" Hasan called. "Are you ready?"

The blonde haired girl smiled confidently. "Of course, silly. I've always been ready."

She uncorked the vial and drank the chilling liquid quickly, waiting in anticipation for the sensations to begin. Unlike Neville, she was hyper aware of the glowing aura and realized immediately when it went up. Hers was a soft golden light that dashed across the floor. How interesting! she thought before gasping in surprise.

Hasan watched Luna's transformation with the most interest, for of all of them, she was one he knew least about. Apparently she was a halfblood, but she also possessed such an unusually magical gift that is was unfair to place her anywhere. The golden pulsing receded back within her lithe form and then her ribs began to grow. Lengthening and lengthening until her entire body was entirely not her own. And yet, it was her own in every way.

"Wow." Neville said dumbly, awestruck as he gazed upon his friend.

"I'll say." Draco murmured appreciatively, for before them, stood the most lovely looking creature Hasan had ever seen.

"Arabian horse." Hasan said.

Luna seemed to dance in delight, shaking the floor as her new sharp hooves clacked against the solid floor. Yes, this felt right. Luna shook her mane and twisted around her long neck to glimpse herself. She had a velvety brown complexion with light caramel hair. But Hasan was struck by the eyes that were vats of molten silver. "Beautiful." Hasan breathed.

Luna shut her large silver eyes and transformed in an instant, stumbling before saying.

"A bit unpleasant, but I think it was worth it."

Draco laughed again and Neville smiled knowingly.

"I'm glad." Hasan said sweetly. "Though I wouldn't suggest bestowing your gratitude upon Snape. Besides that, let's all keep this a secret, shall we? Technically, it's illegal."

Suddenly, Draco and Neville were gaping.

"Why?" Luna asked innocently, her brow drawing up in confusion. "You didn't know?"

Draco shook his head. Oh, his dad was going to kill him if he found out! First begging for the dagger, and now, involving himself in illegal activities! On second thought, perhaps Lucius would be proud? Draco frowned; he sure wasn't going to risk the chance of being wrong.

Neville was in a similar state of shock. "M-my Gran would want me to be registered..."

"And pray, how would you explain the situation?" Hasan asked.

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived." Draco said with a shrug. "Even father concedes that the title has weight."

A title. Right...just a title... Neville shook his head. He was finally beginning to realize the effect of Ginny's constant presence and ego feeding, and he didn't like it at all. How could someone so nice be manipulating his train of thought?

"I've got to go to bed." Neville said suddenly. He needed time to think. To think long and hard about his place.

The three watched him go out the door, but Hasan noted with little concern that his shoulders were sagged, and head drooping.

"Thank you again, Hasan." Luna smiled. "Now I can hang out with the thestrals! Do you think I speak horse-ish?"

"I wouldn't know." Hasan asked softly, but with a light smile playing at his lips. For some reason, Luna was always able to bring the best out of him.

"I'll look into it! See you, Hasan, Draco!" She nodded to each and made a quick exit, leaving Hasan to wonder why. The question as soon answered however, for as soon as the door fell shut, Draco began to speak. And not in the nervous laughter tone of voice he had been using all meeting, but his normal one. His serious, Slytherin one. Hasan felt the shift immediately and turned his weary jade eyes to the Malfoy heir.

"Hasan, do you...really trust me?" Draco asked out of the blue. Hasan blinked twice. Trust? Trust him? Suddenly the boy needed him to be making declarations of faith?

"Why? Why are you asking?" Hasan returned, a bit annoyed. If anyone should be questioning loyalties, it was him!

"Well, why not? You never do talk about your parents." Draco accused with a pout. "And I practically let you into mine."

"Oh, I see." Hasan said in a bored tone. "You got curious didn't you?"

"I am curious." Draco corrected, and Hasan let it slide. There was no point bringing up the book or the diary now. He either had it or he didn't. Plus, Hasan wanted to see where this was going. "Hasan, can you at least tell me one thing? If you knew something, if you had a secret...you'd tell me right? You trust me more than say, Granger, right?" He was nearly pleading, and Hasan's face softened fractionally.

"But Draco," Hasan said tonelessly. "That would defeat the purpose of the secret."

"But you would, right?" asked Draco again.

Hasan frowned. "I'm positive I don't know what you mean."

"Oh." Draco's heart sunk. "I see." His face seemed to darken, and his head drooped so that he could stare at the clenched fists in his lap. "Yes, I see." With that, Draco strode to the door and yanked it open.

"Bye." Hasan called out apathetically, not really caring if the boy heard or not.

He did. There was no reply.

Chapter Text

Return of Emerald

Chapter 18: The Million Eyes

"Dear Lucius,

I thank you for your speedy delivery and consideration for venturing into such a dreadful place. As thank you, here are the answers to your three questions: 1) The ring has a separate significance for separate intents. For instance, it belonged to Marvolo Gaunt, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. For him, it was an heirloom, a priceless testament to his heritage. To me, it is simply a tool. And to you, it is but a task on the rung. 2) Have I destroyed your memories? I thought I had covered my tracks well enough- apparently not. Your memories are still in existence, but not in my possession. They're safe enough. 3) A chance at getting them back? Perhaps, perhaps not. It all depends on how well and if you obey. By the by, have you ever heard of Slytherin's locket? It once belonged to the Gaunt's but a certain tragedy overthrew them. Perhaps some prying is in Order?

Happy Valentine's Day,

Altair" –from Chapter 16: Ring of Power

.oOo.

Well damn. Lucius was completely and utterly screwed...and yet, there was that condemning glimmer of hope at the end of the road. He was not as concerned about the ring as he was about his memories. Honestly! His seven years of life were still in existence, but not available to him! Though the solution was pretty clear: research Slytherin's locket, jump through a few more hoops, and he might possibly get his thoughts back!

Which was nice and all, except for the fact that the Gaunt House was not his ideal visiting location. It was downright eerie and his suspicions stirred up as to why this mysterious Altair would need them. If the diary belonged to Tom Riddle and the ring belonged to Tom Riddle, then how on earth were the Gaunt's involved, especially as the objects simply gushed with dark magic and the former was in the previous possession of the Dark Lord?

But the fact remained: he had to comply. He had, obviously, tried tracking the letter, tracking the owl, bloody pulling strings at the Ministry to search for an Altair Castell who was quite clearly marked as dead! The unknown was driving him insane, and if there was one thing Lucius hated, it was being at the mercy of somebody. Anybody. Or rather, just Altair Castell- and what was with his bloody son anyway? Yet, he had to admit that Altair knew how to play the game. He knew which buttons to push to get Lucius fetching like a lapdog. Namely, his family and memories of said family. And for this, Lucius had an inexplicable respect for the man, a curiosity, fascination almost...

"Dobby!" he snapped as the little elf appeared before him.

"Yes? What is Master Lucius be wanting, sir?" Dobby squeaked, looking up at him with impossibly wide eyes. He wore a clean white pillowcase with hemmed armholes and had an almost weary expression on his face, as if he had been caught in wrongdoing. Luckily for him, Lucius couldn't really be concerned about his elf's new attire, and immediately demanded for books to be brought from the Malfoy family library. There were innumerable dusty family archives in the Malfoy Library, and if Lucius was going to do his research, then there was no better place to start than right at home.

The Gaunts? The flicked his wand at the heavy leather bound tome, searching for passages relating to the name. Surely it couldn't have been that important because he would have heard of it before! Lucius Malfoy prided himself on knowing everyone within the Ministry, and if there was even a page by the name of Gaunt, Lucius would know. The pages swept back, rapidly as if someone were running across, and Lucius' jaw dropped.

Bloody fucking hell! He was face to face with a family tree of Salazar Slytherin! Which he really shouldn't have been surprised at, seeing as Altair had already told him, but it was a completely other thing to see it now, it writing. All the way at the bottom of the 10th page after Slytherin's heading, was the little magical addition of a small branch of Gaunt's. It was confirmed then- Altair really hadn't been lying. He had set foot in a House of Slytherin. And yet, it was the shabbiest, most pathetic shamble the Malfoy lord had ever seen! Glancing above the page for notes, he was also astounded to see how the family tree dwindled from 20 heirs at any given generation to the pitiful Gaunt shoot.

Pureblood inbreeding.

He shook the thoughts away, wondering why on earth he had thought of that, before concentrating on the dying branch of Slytherin. Marvolo Gaunt had been married to a Megaera Peverell, though her own family tree was only referenced with an asterisk. The name Peverell was only familiar to him through the Tales of Beedle the Bard, which of course, was a silly child's story. Even so, to see the name in relation to Slytherin gave him a jolt of foreboding. He quickly moved one, passing to the children Morfin and Merope. He recalled several bedrooms at the house, and so was not overly surprised that a small family lived there once upon a time. Morfin's line ended, but Merope had the most peculiar tie and drop down line to a single name. Because it was a Malfoy book, all muggles were promptly erased unless the incantation was given. Obviously curious, he tapped the book and whispered, "Nomen Revelio!"

Instantly, the name Tom Riddle Sr. appeared beside Merope's name, and Lucius nearly had a heart attack. Tom Riddle. The diary! Things were making sense now, but only just a little. He understood the connections, but not the why. And finally, the very last name was Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. It was in bold. A little note marked him as the heir of Salazar Slytherin.

What the hell? The man was alive? If he was alive, then where was he? Why wasn't he pushing for legislation? Why wasn't he making a fortune writing books? Or running for Minister of Magic? Why wasn't he doing all these useless things that would make him rich, simply for the fact that he was the last living heir of Salazar Slytherin? And why did Lucius not know him?

Lucius sighed and stowed the book in his desk. Distantly, he heard Narcissa break through the wards.

.oOo.

Hasan sifted through the library shelves, anxious for any information. Draco had been eerily estranging himself from Hasan and the rest of the group, instead keeping to his room, and occasionally playing a game of exploding snap with Theodore Nott. When Draco spotted Hasan, anywhere, whether it was at the table, in the common, or during class, the blonde would immediately quiet and attempt to look the other way. All these things Hasan saw and knew with clarity, and Hasan couldn't bring himself to feel a single thing. Just thoughts. Many, many, interlocking, contradicting, webs and weaves of thoughts.

Was Draco mad at him?

Was Draco having a bad day?

Was Draco mad at something he had said?

Had Hasan done anything?

Did something else cause it to happen?

What was really happening?

Was it Draco's problem?

Did Draco expect help?

Was it Hasan's problem?

Was Draco expecting Hasan to ask for help?

And what the hell was this about trust?

The last time they had met, as in, actually welcomed each other's company was nearly a month ago in the Room of Requirement. Trust? What type of unspecific sudden unfair question was that? What defined trust anyway? And did Draco's definition actually match the accuracy of Hasan's or the dictionary's? The thing was, Hasan wasn't sure what to make of Draco's strange behavior, except that...Well the obvious. Draco didn't trust Hasan.

Were all people like this? Hasan wondered. Did all people demand mutual emotions or else those feelings were considered null? What type of idiotic system was that? But the point was, Hasan did know of something. Obliviation.

Luna had said that Lupin had obliviated the entire Dueling Club, and the Gryffindors and Slytherins in his DADA class. Why? Well, because Lupin obviously thought he was odd, or that Lupin wanted this under wraps, or that Lupin thought that Hasan thought he wanted it under wraps. Hasan ran his fingers through the S section of the shelf, scanning, searching...but Lupin wasn't the problem here. Neither was Draco really. It was him. All him.

It wasn't that outlandish to guess that Draco suspected he had been obliviated. It wasn't outlandish to guess that Draco knew something had happened in there to involve Hasan Castell. Hasan wasn't that open to begin with, and adding the overhanging possibility of multiple obliviations did nothing to help him. Well, that was a real shame, because if Draco was going to sulk and hide in the corner, then so be it. Hasan was not sad. He was NOT!

But he was curious...where had that voice even come from? The hissing? Was there another in this school? Another in the world? Or another snake?

"Hey, Hasan!"

"Wh-!"

He whipped around to be met with Luna's smiling face. Her silvery eyes blinked at him innocently as she held out a thin red book.

"Oh, hello, Luna." Hasan said with a slight sheepish smile.

"You're researching the Castle Beasts, right?" Luna asked cheerfully.

"Your Inspiration?" Hasas hypothesized blankly.

"Mmhmm!" She nodded happily and gave him the thin book. "It's by Trevenia Trew. I got it from the Restricted Section!"

Hasan accepted the book graciously but then frowned. "You got a pass?" If there was a spell on these books...if he was traced...if Luna was involved...if they knew why, if they knew, if anyone knew...

"Of course not, silly." Luna giggled. "I found it lying in the wrong section. It was checked out by someone else, I think, and they forgot to put it back."

"Aren't the books returned magically, Luna?" Hasan asked suspiciously.

"Oh! So they are!" she grinned. "Perhaps the reader was recent?" Luna brushed her blonde hair from her face and sighed. "Sometimes I think the Universe is timed and actions speak louder than words. Well, I'd check page 35 if I were you. Of course, I'm not exactly sure what you'll find, but I'm sure it will be good! I wonder where the books on Horse-ish are..."

Luna beamed up at him before turning away down the aisle, and disappearing behind the Magical Bestiary section. Idiot! Why didn't he think of that? He looked down at the book Luna had just given him for the first time. It was clearly old, but exceptionally thin, so thin, that Hasan wondered if the author didn't want anyone to chance across it. If that were so, then Hasan was pretty sure that this was the book for him.

"Beasts of the Castle by Trevenia Trew." He pulled open the cover and looked for the take out date. The last one was more than fifty years ago without a name. Well, that was odd. Who could have taken the book out then? Recent enough to have had it out, late enough for Luna to find, but short enough so that no one would even know. Whoever it was certainly knew how to bury their tracks, and the reason for that was...he regarded the book with apprehension, wondering what mysterious things he would find, and flipped to page 35, the number climbing along the bottom.

Basilisk.

"Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it." (CS16)

Hasan stared at the page for a long time. How was this even possible? A Basilisk? IN THE SCHOOL? Had Dumbledore gone barmy? What type of person let a snake live in the school! Assuming that there was truth to Luna's power. Assuming that he had heard a snake intent upon killing...Still, Luna's powers hadn't failed them yet, and really, what harm was there in being cautious? His thoughts roamed freely over the snake of Lord Voldemort's, but he quickly dismissed the idea of Nagini being the Basilisk of the school. After all, Nagini was at the Riddle House...

Hasan sighed. Snakes were supposed to be fun, nice! He loved Tina and the garden snakes outside the orphanage. But now, just the thought of the creatures made his mouth taste of blood. The cries! The sickening crack of bone beneath jaw...

"Hasan! Hasan!" Someone was tapping him on the arm, and Hasan glanced up, surprised.

"Hello Daphne." he uttered, putting away his book in one smooth motion.

She was out of breath, and her brown hair frizzing from the run. Whatever she had come here to say, it didn't seem to be anything that could wait.

"Have-have you seen Draco?" she panted. Hasan frowned.

"No. Why?"

"Because he's not anywhere!"

Hasan sighed. "And this concerns me because he is my friend."

"Well, yeah." Daphne said, giving him an odd look. "So have you seen him?"

Hasan shook his head.

"Oh, come on, Hasan! I know you had a fight but..." Her eyes were wide, innocent. "He's still your friend, isn't he? He gave you the dagger!"

Hasan shrugged. Did he have friends? "I- I am unsure. I haven't seen him in a few days, but I don't think we fought."

"Oh? Really?" Daphne glared. "Honestly, Hasan. Sometimes I wonder what Draco even sees in you. He shouldn't have wasted his dagger on someone who doesn't even know the power-"

"Daphne. Be quiet." Hasan commanded in a low whisper. "Don't you dare suggest I don't care about those I trust. I don't know why he gave me such a valuable artifact, but the truth is, he did. Now I don't understand emotions a whole lot, but don't take me for a fool. Draco's been missing, you say? Well, let him solve his own problems. It's something called growing. Have you even tried to owl him? I believe owls are more than capable of tracking a person."

Daphne had always struck him as a sweet, quiet, but very impressionable girl who had spent an unfortunate amount of time near Pansy Parkinson. Hasan, admittedly, was not someone you would go to for emotional support, but accusations. False accusations. Claims that cut across Hasan's very morals? Those were forbidden.

Daphne shrank back, wondering why Hasan was acting so forceful. He never showed emotion before...

"I-I'm sorr-"

"Actions speak louder than words." Hasan said, the proverb flowing out of him. "Perhaps you can go up to the owlery, yes?"

He wasn't sure where the rage had come from. The sudden, coolness of authority. And yet, he knew all at once. They came from Harry, and Harry came from him. And Voldemort? The snake had struck, soft flesh melting along the sides of his teeth...

Daphne nodded vigorously and sprinted out of the library. Even if Hasan had told her to jump off a cliff, she was sure she'd do anything at the moment. Hasan was left standing alone in the aisle, surrounded by dusty tomes of informative text. Perhaps he'd check the Marauder's Map one last time?

.oOo.

Severus Snape had many pressing matters on his mind. After the first few meetings of the Order of the Phoenix, it was clear that the others still viewed him as a Death Eater. The Weasley's would glance his way whenever they thought his head was turned, and Mad-Eyed Moody kept glaring at him with that swiveling eye of his. Augusta was a busy woman and so could only come every other month, but Mundungus Fletcher joined the party, and he was eyeing up the house more than he cared about the meeting. Finally, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks brought up the rear of the Auror department, and it was almost expected that they regard him with caution as well.

But the mutt-er- Black and Lupin were alright. Black did his best to avoid the slimy bat, but Lupin would always set a gentle smile on his face when looking at Severus. It was the weirdest feeling: He was actually fond of the wolf. Dumbledore was happy, of course, that Snape had found a friend and Minerva was downright gleeful. Honestly, how did the woman find such joy in his life? In his boring, mundane, boring, boring life? Right. Because it was hardly boring anymore.

After much debate, he had contacted Lucius about his memories, if only to assure that Altair hadn't messed with anything during his absence, and his friend wasn't prying into matters that should really not be pried into! He received a short note within a week, reassuring Severus that all was well and he hardly even thought about it anymore. After all, what were seven years' worth of memories? Snape didn't buy it for a minute. But he had other pressing matters on his mind than just Lucius.

Today, Hasan was scheduled to come down for their second 'Quid Pro Quid' session, in which Hasan would hopefully create a patronus, and Snape would hopefully learn about the blasted boy. It started in December when Severus had first noticed Albus' sudden interest in the boy. It had scared Severus to death when Albus asked him one day if he found the boy particularly interesting. Severus had replied that he didn't care much to look into any one student, but that he found all his snakes rather interesting. Diplomatic. Slytherin. But it had alerted Severus of another variable, a much more active variable. The conversation dropped and was never taken up again.

Severus glanced at the clock: 6:56. Only 4 more minutes to go...He needed answers. This was no longer a wish, a bartering weight on his end of the agreement, no, he needed to know...something, anything. Why was Harry Potter his Boggart? Why did he have that Protean ring? Why had he gone outside with the dementors? Why was he able to talk to snakes?

And the final matter on his mind? His own godson, Draco Malfoy. He seemed withdrawn lately, entering class with little interest, and picking a seat next to Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini. This left Hasan with Hermione Granger, the know-it-all chit, which wasn't much of a surprise. What was surprising was that they had never sat apart. Never. Not since first year! What had happened? A simple fight? A simple disagreement? Or had Draco discovered something about Hasan that Snape himself did not know?

Everything looped back around to Hasan Castell. He was tired of guessing.

"Professor Snape?" Hasan knocked thrice and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Professor- Oh!"

Snape had flicked the door of his office open lazily, revealing a rather tired looking Hasan Castell with hair reaching as long as his waist. Did the boy never get a haircut?

"Come in." Severus said curtly, waiting for the boy to extract himself from the doorway and follow the Potions Master into his private chambers.

Hasan walked behind nonchalantly, sitting when indicated, on a leather chair.

"I believe I have offered to instruct you in casting a Patronus in exchange for answers to my questions?"

Hasan nodded, dull jade eyes blinking innocently. "Yes. I agree to those terms. But how do I know you'll teach me? How do I know you won't receive your answers and leave me to struggle with my non-corporeal wisp?"

Snape fought not to roll his eyes.

"You'll know because I do not lie."

"Lying and finding a loophole are two different things, Professor."

Really? Did the boy not trust him? Well, Severus, he told himself, I wouldn't trust you either. Snape sighed and nodded.

"You have my word I will teach you before the day is out."

"Good." Hasan nodded, running his fingers over his thick brown braid. "You can begin."

Oh, can't I? Snape thought. "Why did you go outside on Valentine's Day? And I expect a complete answer, Mr. Castell."

Hasan shrugged. "I needed it."

"You...needed it." Snape repeated dumbly. "Let me repeat, you needed it?" His voice rose in incredulity. Hasan nodded.

"Yes, I needed it."

"And pray tell, why?"

Hasan stared at the table leg, not able to look his professor in the eye. "Because I was curious."

"One would think a simple curiosity would not leave you unconscious in the Hospital Wing." Snape told him glumly. "But I fail to see the connection. Surely Black had told you of his countless adventures in Azkaban? Do not go near the dementors!"

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Snape asked.

"Mr. Black has suffered a lot in there." Hasan brought his jade green orbs to meet his professor's. "I don't think one would use the word 'adventure.'" Snape's jaw cracked. Hasan got a move on, "But as for the why. Well, I can...I can hear things...when the dementors get near."

"Such as?" Snape pressed.

"I'm not sure." Hasan answered honestly enough. "Now, I believe that was a thorough enough question, don't you? Now how on earth am I supposed to cast a Patronus?"

Snape sighed. At the rate they were going..."Did you think of that happy memory I told you to think of?"

Hasan nodded. It was when his appearance had changed for the first time. The elation of knowing he was able to just disappear...

"Good, now try it."

Hasan took out his wand and slashed it through the air. "Expecto Patronum!" The silvery wisp shot from his wand, but nothing more. No shape, no form. Snape was inwardly cheering. The longer it took, the more questions he could ask!

"Not happy enough." Snape quipped.

"What?" Hasan exclaimed. "But-! I-! That was happy!"

"Apparently not. What was it?" Snape demanded.

"I-I'm not telling!" Hasan countered. "Unless..." he peeked up hopefully through his lashes, "that was your question?"

"You idiot boy! No!"

"Oh...so what is your question?"

Snape wanted to throw something right now! Preferably large and aiming at the boy's head.

"Why is your boggart Harry Potter?" Snape snarled.

Hasan would have taken in a sharp intake of breath if he were any other person; however, he was a Slytherin, and an unusual one at that. No way was he doing anything so indicative and melodramatic as alerting the other of his predicament.

"That's what I fear." Hasan answered simply.

Snape's lips thinned as he considered the answer. "Why do you fear him? You don't even know him." Severus knew he was treading a thin line, but at this point, he really didn't care.

"I fear him because I don't like what he stands for." Hasan replied tightly. He didn't feel a need to justify himself, but he was thankful to explain his mentality to someone! "Have you seen what Neville acts like now? Do you remember what he used to act like?"

What? They were talking of Harry Potter, not of Neville Longbottom! But now that he mentioned it,...Severus had noticed a rather prominent change in the Longbottom boy even from the summer. It was obvious now that it was not only Dumbledore's influence, but most likely the youngest Weasley girl who was constantly on his arm- coincidentally from the family of Dumbledore's greatest supporters.

"He blows up his cauldron less often than he used to." Snape admittedly begrudgingly.

Hasan nodded. "He's arrogant. He's smug." It sounded like James Potter... "Before he was always stuttering over words, now, he's confident, overly so. This is the Golden Boy mold. This is the beacon of light. If he believes he knows right, then others will follow him too. It's simple. And yet, I hate it."

It was more of a response than Snape could even dream to ask for. "And you still maintain ties with Mr. Longbottom?" Snape enquired lightly.

Hasan nodded. "Of course. He's the Boy-Who-Lived, isn't he?" Of course, so is everyone else...Snape remembered the boy saying. "But it's not Neville I dislike, it's the image. Harry Potter was the first, the original, to fit that perfect golden boy mold, and it makes me sick."

Snape understood now. A little. He understood how Longbottom had changed and why, and how utterly disgusting it was to make him change himself for the greater good. The idea of Harry Potter, the symbolism of stereotypical Light, was what Hasan feared, not Harry himself...even Snape related to this.

"I see." Snape said finally, regarding Hasan with a mixture of appreciation and understanding. He nodded twice before saying, "The problem with your last patronus was the memory. Once more, I am going to ask you to think of something different. Something so happy that you can't help but smile."

Hasan closed his eyes and thought...Draco, Luna, Tina, Altair, Tom...Harry, wizard...

"It's when I first met Altair." Hasan said as he reopened his blank green eyes. "He told me I was a wizard."

Snape blinked, thinking fast. The boy hadn't known he was a wizard? Wait, Severus should have known that! The boy was abandoned at an orphanage for Merlin's sake!

"Try again." Snape ordered, "Focus on it. Remember every detail and project it outside yourself. Your soul outside to protect you."

Hasan took a deep breath. "Expecto Patronum!" he wand swished through the air, the images of the fire, Tina, the feeling of the bed, heavy, soft beneath him. Wizard...wizard...wizard...A flash of bright silver light illuminated the room, and Snape blinked in shock. He hadn't expected such a reaction! The giant ball of light burst in an instant, almost fanning out until dissipating completely.

Inside, Severus was thanking Merlin.

"That was...that was certainly an improvement." Snape said slowly. Hasan nodded indifferently, not adverse to criticism and not addicted to praise. "How did you meet Altair." Snape asked eagerly, able to ask the question he always wanted to know the answer to. "You mentioned you were adopted."

He watched Hasan's face carefully with the keen eyes of a spy for signs of distrust and lies. Surprisingly, Hasan seemed to relax, protruding calmness even as his dark green orbs narrowed in suspicion. It was always the eyes...the truth was located in no other place. Not in the tone of the voice, nor the shake of the head, but in the spark of the eyes.

"Yes, but I ran away before we could meet at the orphanage. You see, he had talked to my caretaker and they had scheduled a meeting. He actually followed me to the Leaky Cauldron, did you know? Can you imagine," Hasan said contemplatively. "Someone going through all that trouble just to find a child?" Hasan laughed lightly, though he had to tear his eyes away from Severus' black ones.

Oh, the irony! Snape could imagine alright: Dumbledore had just organized for Hagrid to go to America in search of the Potter boy.

"How did he find you?" Snape asked mildly.

"Surely you can guess." Hasan drawled, glaring dully at the Potions professor. Wasn't he supposed to be an expert on it, after all?

"Your aura." Snape said, the answer flowing easily to his lips. Hasan nodded with a thoughtful expression on his otherwise blank face. "But that's impossible! There's only so many colors and to follow one trail through a Wizarding city? And I am correct in assuming there was a time gap?" Snape interjected.

"About six hours, yes." Hasan said, then paused. Altair had only just explained his aura to him two years ago. Could he confide in the professor? Did his professor deserve to know something so recently uncovered?

"Yes, Mr. Castell?" Snape prodded, with a slight impatience beneath his light tone.

"My aura." Hasan found himself explain. "It's different." The words tumbled out, and he paused, gauging his reaction before hurrying on at the look that crossed Severus' face. "Powerful. It was fairly easy to trace."

"Powerful..." Severus repeated, remembering faintly an event occurring two years ago. There's a powerful magical energy near here...I'm sensing a pulsating emerald. Somewhere...somewhere near here. "Indeed." Suddenly a burst of inspiration caught Snape and he found himself staring directly into dull jade orbs. "When you were alone, when you were on your own." Invisible. "How did you feel? When there was no one else to worry for you or about you, how did you feel?" Invisible. "Can you picture that in your mind? The emotion, just the emotion?"

Hasan nodded, chewing lightly at his lip. No one knew who he was. Safety. Alone, Strider. His lids shut over his jade green eyes and he remembered clearly, staring over the river, staring straight at his reflection...emerald...so beautiful..."EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A brilliant flash of silver light erupted from his wand as a swirling mass of white magic shot forth from the mist, and fanned out from a single orb.

Severus gaped. Hasan blinked.

Before them, puffing out its chest proudly was a massive silver peacock, its head held high with a pointed beak, and large tangible feathers spanning out like the sun, with all the intricate details belonging to the plumage.

"Wow." Hasan breathed, never before having seen anything so magnificent in his life.

The peacock regarded them coldly, long neck stretching out and head tilting as it looked at Hasan and then Severus. Snape's eyes were wide, disbelieving black, flickering back and forth from Hasan's awestruck face to the regal Patronus. The peacock opened its beak to let out a trill, and a single note escaped before it faded into nothingness.

Hasan Castell's Patronus was a peacock. Severus took deep breaths to steady himself. A peacock. Hasan Castell's...

"Thank you, Professor." Hasan said suddenly, his voice holding a slight faintness in it. "Deals are fun, are they not?"

Snape could only nod dumbly as the boy walked out the door.

.oOo.

Hasan exited the office, his head feeling dizzy all of a sudden. His Patronus was a peacock? That was weird, wasn't it? When all Hasan wanted to do was fade away and peacocks stood for pride and extravagance.

But Hasan, don't you want someone to like you for who you are? But Hasan, don't you want recognition? Don't you deserve to be praised like Neville for ousting Quirrelmort from the school? Don't you want equal respect? Don't you want? Don't you want? Don't you-

No! he told himself. I will not be arrogant! There is no pride in stupidity!

But he couldn't shake the idea that his patronus showed him- the real him- deep inside. Was his pride-? Was his indignation-? Was his Harry coming out? Hasan couldn't imagine having to become Harry Potter. Harry was arrogant. Harry was the golden boy. Harry was better off dead.

But no, Hasan had to remind himself that he was all these things. That he shouldn't be allowed to play the saint of the two, even if the two were one in the same. Harry was not the devil and he was not god. There was no good. There was no bad.

Hasan would just have to accept that the pride and extravagance was a part of him. There was nothing to gain from cutting his personality up into categorized bits just to denounce them. Nothing at all.

But out of every animal...why a peacock? Why not a fox? Or a snake? Or even a bear? Honestly! If anyone was vain, it was Draco Malfoy, who was again missing from the face of the earth.

Hasan began the journey through the dungeons, determined to check the Marauder's Map once more. As he walked, footsteps echoing off the walls, a feeling of dread came over him like a mist, settling like a lead balloon in the pit of his stomach. The anxiety.

His chest constricted and he blinked rapidly as he scanned the walls on either side. This paranoia surely wasn't healthy. This questioning of character surely wasn't healthy...Where was Draco? What if he checked the map and Draco was gone? He told himself it was stupid, but what if? What if? What i-?

:Haassssssaaann.:

.oOo.

7:00pm.

"Tom?"

"What's wrong, Draco? Am I wrong? You can tell me."

"...No, you weren't wrong." Draco answered tentatively.

"What happened? You can tell me anything, Draco."

"He and I...started a conversation, but it's like all his conversations. No emotion whatsoever!"

"A sociopath, perhaps?" Tom asked.

"No, he's just...I know he's hiding something. I've been obliviated, twice, I think."

"It certainly makes sense..." Tom commented lightly. "He had mentioned something before..."

"What?" Draco snapped. "My godfather knows, I bet Lovegood and Longbottom even know! Why don't I?"

"So he hasn't told you?" Tom enquired. "Though it's not something you can really tell..."

"He doesn't bloody trust ME!" Draco raged at the book. "I bloody asked and he didn't bloody answer! What do you know? SHOW ME!"

"I don't know..." Tom wrote.

"Why don't you know? You know everything!" Draco scrawled.

"I know many things, but for me to show you...it requires a parselmouth."

"But Hasan's not a parselmouth!" Draco protested.

"And how would you know? You've been obliviated, haven't you?"

"I- it doesn't matter! The only other parselmouths are the Dark Lord and Slytherin!"

"-And me."

Draco froze. "You speak parseltongue?"

"Speak it, write it...But I'm afraid I don't have a voice and the door only accepts verbally given passwords."

"What do I have to do?" Draco asked recklessly, blood pounding in his ears. This was his chance, this was his chance to know Hasan, to really get to know him. And he wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Place your hand on the book and I can do the rest." The simple sentence sent chills up Draco's spine. Something wasn't right...his instincts were screaming out in protest...don't do it, don't do it, don't do it. But Hasan...

"What are you going to do?" Draco asked.

"Nothing you wouldn't agree to." the book answered.

Draco looked behind him at the closed door and then at the book. He couldn't hear anyone, no one would know.

"Draco, place your trust in me. I promise I will not fail. Don't you want to see what you've forgotten? What Hasan's hiding from you?"

What little reserve Draco had crumbled at those last words. It was all for the sake of their friendship. It was all for...the greater good. He placed his hand on the book.

"Perfect."

And instantly he knew everything was wrong.

A foreign presence slipped its way up his arm like a parasitic snake, reaching for his pulsating core. It was as if his heart had been disconnected from his brain and plunged into a bucket of ice where it shivered and sputtered and shriveled to blue. And his nerves, they were on fire! His vision blacked as the book snapped shut. Distantly he felt foreign hands close around the diary, foreign feet walking towards the door...

"Don't worry, Draco." Tom purred in Draco's voice...Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He knew better! He knew better! "You've placed your trust in the right place."

Chapter Text

A/N- Please note there is a bit of profanity in this chapter, certainly not unwarranted, but just thought you'd like to know.

"Turn thyself round, and keep thine eyes close shut,

For if the Gorgon appear, and thou shoudst see it,

No more returning upward would there be."

- Canto IX of The Inferno by Dante Alighieri, Lines 55-57

:Haassssssaaann.:

The boy froze in the empty hallway, a cold draft sweeping through the dungeon corridor and through his skin and bones. He was alone. He wasn't alone.

:I can sssssmell you. Ssssoo juicy, tender flesh...sssssooo long.:

Hasan's nerves shot up. The voice was the same as the one during the Dueling Club. The one spurring the other to kill, the one that slithered through the castle, the one that spoke his name. The Basilisk.

He glanced quickly down the hall and back the way he came. Alone. Stillness. Where he had only just basked in his independence and invisibility a moment before, he sorely wished for someone to come down the hall now. Even Peeves...

:Follow me.: the snake commanded, scales sliding across an old surface that Hasan could hear.

:Where?: Hasan hissed in question. The 'why' was unimportant. Why would anyone kill? Why would anyone harm? The motivation did not matter as much as formulating a way to survive. The 'where' could buy Hasan just enough time to calculate an escape.

:You'll know sssssooon enough, hurry. You wouldn't want to keep your friend waiting...:

The snake continued to glide inside the wall, and while Hasan was irritated that the basilisk had all but threatened him, he was able to garner that the serpent must be using the pipes which meant that they were heading somewhere with plumbing: the Lake, the kitchens, or the bathrooms.

He followed the occasional hissing out of the dungeons, where he saw no passerby. How was it that he had all the luck? Obviously Altair had not rubbed off on him...They soon stopped in front of the girl's bathroom where he, Draco, and Hermione had saved Neville from the troll the year before. It was funnily ironic how everything seemed to fit. The bathroom had been repaired to its former glory, though it was vacant as ever due to Myrtle.

"Ooohhh! You're that Castell boy!" Myrtle swooned, bursting through the stall door.

"And you must be Myrtle." Hasan answered politely, wondering how both the snake and the ghost knew his name. Who was it that connected them both? Did it have to do with the troll last year? Draco? Hermione? Neville? "Tell me, has anyone else come to visit you?" Hasan asked nonchalantly.

Myrtle pouted with her hands on her transparent hips. "Visit me?" she repeated incredulously. "No, they just walk into my loo without a glance or a 'hi, Myrtle!'  Some people are just sooooo rude! I bet you're just like them!" she snapped, "You don't really want to talk to me!" She frowned and crossed her misty arms over chest yet kept an eye trained on him in a histrionic show of hope.

Hasan didn't bat an eyelash. He wasn't a liar, but he wasn't stupid either! "Who were they?" Hasan enquired.

"Oh!" Myrtle growled. "The rudest people known to man!...But they were ever so handsome-" she added as an afterthought.

:Open!: the basilisk commanded impatiently. He didn't have the time to listen to the woes of Moaning Myrtle! Hasan glanced at the floor, surprised, as the voice seemed to rise from the floor. The snake was below him-? But before he could even ponder if there was another chamber below, the sinks buckled before him and dipped in a dance, locking and rearranging, until a single panel of the octagonal sink had fallen into the floor!

Myrtle gasped and flew straight into her stall. "That's the one who killed me!" Her voice echoed up from the toilet seat in which she was hiding, and Hasan had barely time to regard the spectacle of the sinks before the basilisk hissed again.

:Down. We're waiting.:

The sinks settled around a long and dark passage, and it didn't take much effort to put two and two together. The snake wanted him to jump down there? Down into the darkness? Into the unknown? How did he know he wouldn’t be killed when he reached the bottom? How did he know there was a bottom? Or if he'd be sent to the pits of hell? Or have to fight for his second chance at life, like Gandalf?

All his instincts shouted against it, but one culpable thought, one little thought of loyalty and what it meant to think about more than the self, the ego, the I. Hasan bit his lip and gripped his wand tighter in his hand. Another way? Another out? No. Sometimes deviations didn't work. Sometimes the answer was so straightforward and clear and detestable, that being blind was preferable to seeing.

Hasan plunged.

"WAIT-!"

.oOo.

Snape paced intently back and forth in his private chambers. What the Bloody-fucking-Hell? Hasan Castell, the prodigal son of his idiot friend, had produced a patronus. A fully corporeal peacock patronus, at the age of 12 years old. Snape mulled over again the vague explanation of how the imbecile managed to find the child, and again was unsatisfied at the answer. Followed his aura? For six hours? Abandoned at an orphanage? Ran away from being adopted? Hasan made as much sense as his father sometimes, but still, something else was bothering him.

It had been building for a while, that sometimes, he would just forget he had ever thought it. Things weren't adding up. The troll, the dagger, the boggart, the dementors, the ring, the snake, the mirror, the stone, the eyes. He was sure of it now, those emerald eyes had been Lily's. It did not matter that he only saw a flash before the boy crumbled to the floor, or that the boy clearly had dull jade eyes. Those had been Lily's eyes. Severus was sure of it.

And with this realization came the weight of the world.

Could Hasan Castell be Harry Potter? Dumbledore had looked everywhere for the boy, had sent everyone looking everywhere for the boy, had tried everything to find the real Boy-Who-Lived! And wouldn't that just be ironic if he was at Hogwarts the whole time?

How could it be possible? Polyjuice? Charms? No, they would have noticed. They would have sensed the magic, and Altair...did Altair know? How could a boy so young hide so well and for so long? And if Altair truly had no inkling, then why bother taking the boy in in the first place? Altair never was one to interfere with charity, so what ulterior motive did the Slytherin have for adopting this strange, magical boy?

It seemed so obvious now, and yet, the questions became more complex. Why did Hasan befriend Draco when the Malfoys were a well-known Death Eater Family? Why could he speak to snakes? How was he able to defeat Quirrelmort? Why did he meet with the dementors?

Shouldn't Severus alert the headmaster now? Call Altair? Or better yet, call the boy back in here and demand answers?

And this was when the second realization hit: What proof did he have? And besides this, telling the headmaster of Hasan Castell would lead to the discovery of Altair...and inevitably this would not be good for Severus. The thing was, was he right? And if he was, who else knew? And if they knew, what the hell were they going to do about it?

Severus stopped his pacing. The orphanage.

There's a powerful magical energy near here....I'm sensing a pulsating emerald. Somewhere...somewhere near here.

Severus would bet his Master's degree that this "somewhere near here" was the same orphanage that Dumbledore himself had checked as being the location of the youngest Potter. It was only eight o'clock and surely it wouldn't take that long...Surely the headmaster would not need to speak with him and discover his absence...

Snape grabbed his black travelling cloak and threw it over his shoulders. There were only so many things a person could do to corroborate a secret speculation and Severus knew a thing or two about secrets.

.oOo.

Lucius Malfoy was doubled over a conjured basin, regurgitating his lunch and whatever else was left in his stomach with various degrees of disgust. The headaches had started again, and Lucius could do nothing to combat them. His blood thumped painfully against his skull, and his ears were ringing, constantly ringing!

"Lucius, dear? Are you alright?" Narcissa called from the door.

Lucius cursed his luck and wiped his mouth. He was sure he put up silencing spells! "I'm fine, Narcissa. I'll be out in a minute."

He stilled and waited for her light footfalls to make their way down the steps, before vomiting once more. Altair, he growled inwardly. He was sure of it. It was just like how it started last time: The dizziness, the nausea, the pounding migraines...

Lucius cleaned his face and mouth, vanished the basin, and stumbled back into his bedroom, glancing over the rail to see Narcissa rearranging some roses in the foyer. He had gotten her some never-ageing roses for Valentine's Day in a roundabout way of apologizing for all the secrets he kept. Obviously he couldn’t tell her this, and her gratitude always had this way of melting down his heart. Damn Altair. Damn memories. Damn secrets.

He wondered absently if he should just give up and tell Snape everything, but quickly shot it down. This was between him and Altair. No one else. And in a way, Lucius reveled in the thought. And why? Well, he couldn't really say. A wave of vertigo smacked him again, and his mind was set. Quickly he grabbed his quill and parchment and jotted down the first thing that came to his mind:

"Can't you bloody stop it?"

"Lucius!" Narcissa yelled, "I'll tell them you're working late, all right?"

That's right, the dinner at the Nott's. Lucius groaned as his head throbbed in agony. How could he even think of socializing?

"Enjoy yourself, Cissa." Lucius shouted, relieved that he was finally alone to suffer in private. He didn't want to arouse suspicion, but even more, he didn't want Narcissa to have to worry about him. He was helping a dead man on blackmail; it didn't take much to surmise that whatever tasks he was told to do weren't exactly legal. And still, Narcissa loved him. She didn't question him when he locked himself up in his room to research or write. She didn't comment except to ask about his health. In short, Lucius didn't deserve her.

As the door clicked shut below, there was an instant rapping at the window. What? Lucius raised his head and focused his silver eyes on the small gray bird at the window. Altair! He incinerate his pitiful note with a flick of his wand and opened the windows so that the little owl could hop inside. There was a small, rolled up letter on its leg which Lucius carefully untied. Once relieved, the owl gave a hoot and flew off, leaving Lucius to stare down at the parchment in his hands. His heart thumped and his head cleared for just an instant.

"Lucius,

I hope life finds you well. (Lucius snorted). I apologize for the hasty manner in which I address you, but certain circumstances require me to be quick. In the case that you have not had the time to research, Slytherin's locket once belonged to a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle. I need it. Preferably before the end of the week. I am counting on you. Use all the resources you have available, yet I would suggest starting at home. Elves can be ever so helpful.

Best of luck,

Altair Castell"

Lucius groaned and pressed his fingers to his temple. The message was about as cryptic as Dumbledore! And why did the man need the locket now? If he could blackmail Lucius Malfoy and fake his own death, then why couldn't he get the bloody locket himself? Perhaps he's worried about being caught? Yet a word from Lucius and the whole Ministry would go searching for him. Besides, what vaguely intelligent person put their full name on paper?

Insult to injury: Lucius was being controlled by this moron!

Well, what the hell was he supposed to do about it? There was another possibility however, one of convenience. House-elves? What could Dobby possibly- ah. The disappearances. Perhaps Altair had been keeping an eye on Dobby as well. It wouldn't surprise Lucius, but it certainly didn't make him feel any better that his elf was being stalked! Lucius sighed and reconsidered his theory. What connected his house-elf's comings and goings to the Slytherin locket?           

"Dobby!" he called, angry but tired all the same. There was a momentary pause before the house-elf appeared with a sharp pop.

"What is Master Malfoy be wanting, sir?" His large emerald eyes wavered to the side of Lucius' head, and Lucius' eyes narrowed. There was no doubt that his elf was up to something. How had he not seen this earlier?

"Where were you just now?" Lucius demanded, glaring coldly at the elf's new sage pillowcase.

"Dobby wa-be-" he stuttered, thin legs shifting his weight from either foot. "Dobby, be, er, at."

"OUT WITH IT!"

"Grim- Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Within an instant, the little elf was up against the wall, smashing his brains out onto the stone. "Bad Dobby! Dobby not be saying!"

Lucius growled. How could he not see this coming? "Dobby! Stop that at once! I am your Master and you will listen to me! Where were you? Who forbade you from speaking to me?"

The poor creature wrenched himself away from the wall, stumbling into the bed, when his face froze in horror.

"Dobby is being- be called now, sir!" he squeaked. His purposeful botching of the English language not missed by Lucius who frowned and held up a hand. Another wave of nausea hit, and he shut his eyes in time for the little elf to snap away.

What the hell? Someone was giving orders to his house-elf? HIS HOUSE-ELF! Who would dare? Who had the right? All his relatives were carted off to Azkaban! Who-

Sirius Black. Black was stealing his house-elf? Well, who else could it be? He was the only other with the rights to control his house-elf, and the thought wasn't improbable. He had been so absorbed in his own little world of Altair and memories that he had almost forgotten that Sirius Black had been freed from Azkaban. Which left the question: where did he reside? There were only so many properties belonging to the House of Black- surely it was in London somewhere? Or near London?

Dobby reappeared suddenly, looking much relieved and very nervous.

"Sorry, Master Lucius, I is free to speak now."

This only served to increase the Malfoy Lord's suspicions.

"If you lie, then I shall know." he threatened.

Dobby cowed back and shuffled his feet. "I is serving Master Black and Mister Lupin, sir."

"The werewolf!" Lucius exclaimed. Oh, this was just great! Just bloody great! As if his life wasn't messed up enough, add a gloating werewolf!

"But they is not knowing I is yours." Dobby continued. "They think I is part of the house."

"They don't know." Lucius repeated.

"No, sir!" Dobby squeaked. "I is being careful, and Kreacher is always there when I is not."

"Where is it?"

The house-elf bit his lip.

"WHERE IS IT?" Lucius howled. "You said you could speak!"

"Only if Dobby is freed!" the elf cried.

Lucius was perplexed. What the hell? His house-elf was demanding things from him now? HE was a Malfoy! THAT was a house-elf!

"I swear I will flay you alive until-" Nausea. Guilt. Sickness. Vertigo. Lucius doubled over and shut his eyes.

"Master Lucius? Master Lucius!" Dobby screeched.

Blood was rushing through his ears. What was wrong with him? What was happening? His chest constricted, ribs choking his lungs.

"All I bloody want is Slytherin's Locket!" Lucius choked out, gritting his teeth. He was not guilty! He was not backing down! He was not freeing his house-elf! He was a Malfoy! His world rocked on its axis. The floor was swirling. He couldn't do this...he couldn't live with himself if he did this. Oh, sod it!—

"Accio sock!" A velvet black sock came zooming from the drawer and into his outstretched hand. The world was receding, the land was drying up. "Here!" He tossed the sock to the shocked creature with grace of movement, grimacing all the while.

Dobby caught the sock and cradled the it to his cheek; Lucius sat with his mouth agape. His world had settled down, finally, and the sky was still up, and the ground was still down...He breathed out in relief before realizing what he had just done. But he had to!

"Slytherin's Locket, sir?" Dobby asked after he had calmed down some. "I remember Kreacher hiding with it...it is evil, sir. Pure evil. Kreacher i-be trying to break it, but he can't."

Lucius raised his head and looked the thoughtful elf in the eyes. Somewhere deep inside he knew he did the "right thing", but now, all he could do was nod his head, numbly, and let fate have its way with him.

"Please."

Dobby immediately snapped his fingers and vanished, leaving Lucius to stare at the place the elf had last been. Evil? Dangerous?

Lucius shook his head and sighed. Life wasn't getting any easier and now he was one house-elf short! And, by Merlin!-

Altair had probably planned it out from the start.

.oOo.

Hasan plunged.

"WAIT-!"

His world was a whirl of black as he descended into the unknown. He landed with all the agility of a cat, his shoes scoffing the hard stone floor with a succinct impact. He glanced up to see who had called him. It was a distinctive feminine voice, and if Hasan were to wager a guess...

Luna's smiling face popped into view at the mouth of the tunnel, her beautiful blonde hair tasseled around her face like she had just been running through a windy field.

"Luna?" Hasan asked surprised, wondering why his heart was pounding as hard as it was. Without a pause, the physic jumped down to join him and he had just the reflexes to break her fall before she fell face flat on the ground. "Luna!" Hasan chided, "You can't just-"

"I knew you would catch me!" Luna beamed, shredding whatever lecture on safety Hasan had prepared to fire at her. "I was trying to learn horseish, but I figured that being a pragmatist was best! Unicorns are so nice!" she told him rapidly, soothing down her hair with her left hand. That's when Hasan noticed she was carrying something black and rolled up in her right. "Oh this?" Luna asked excitedly. "It's the Hogwarts sorting hat!"

"I can see that." Hasan said, "but why do you-?"

Suddenly a great hissing filled the room, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. In his surprise he had almost forgot about his mission in the first place. What was wrong with him? Surely Luna couldn't affect him that much- that was ludicrous- his mind could handle multitasking, or at least, he thought so before.

:More friendssss for the ressscue? Come on Hasssan, I don't like to be kept waiting...and I grow sssso hungry.:

Hasan inwardly shivered as he gazed at Luna. He didn't want her in harm's way, but he could hardly control another person; it simply wasn't right. Besides, if this truly was a basilisk, he needed all the help he could get.

"Ooh! Was that Slytherin's Monster?" Luna wondered. "Enemies of the Heir Beware!"

"Wait, what?" Hasan asked.

"It was written on the wall one day, but I washed it off! Hmm, I think it was on Valentine's Day, but everyone was so busy snogging that no one noticed. But I wasn't, so I saw it!"

It must have been when he was outside, Hasan realized. But why hadn't Luna told him this before? He glanced at her and she still had the dreamy expression her face.

"Do you know who did it?" Hasan asked lightly, started to walk further into the tunnel.

"Oh! The man with many faces!" Luna answered cheerfully. It was as if his heart had been shot twice through. Quirrelmort was back? How? Why? And the bastard had his friend...His blood was pounding through his brain. They had to hurry.

"How do you know this?" Hasan asked as they reached a second door with great metal snakes barring it shut.

"Inspiration." Luna sighed. "Sometimes knowing the surface is such a burden."

Hasan continued to examine the door, expecting the basilisk to order him to hurry up at any minute, but when no order came, Hasan concluded that they were near enough to the Chamber of Secrets that no pipes where necessary to talk to him. This sent an odd unsettling feeling to Hasan's stomach, but he forced it down, knowing that the very worst that could happen was death...Oh Merlin...Luna was watching him closely as he steadied himself in front of the vault door.

:Open!: Hasan commanded, keeping his eyes trained on the final snake-bolt to move. As it slithered back into the cog box, Hasan nodded curtly to Luna who then went to stand behind him, Sorting Hat at the ready!

Hasan flicked his wand at the door, which opened with a great moan, and softly, he climbed inside. It looked like a great aisle of dark green tiles with snakes decorating the walls. Hard to miss was the great grey head of Salazar Slytherin, who had a very artistic beard that flowed from his slight chin. How could someone create a chamber this massive in total secrecy? Magic...It was so surreal.

At the very end of the aisle, right in front of Salazar's head, was a man who was standing with his head bent, staring down in fascination at a body Hasan couldn't identify. Perhaps if he were more lucid, the answer would have presented itself to him. As it was, his thoughts were bouncing wildly about, darting from Voldemort, to Salazar, to Luna.

He felt a hand on his arm and cold metal pressed against his skin. What-?

"Don't forget your friends, Hasan. See, they never fail you." Her voice was lower now, not as happy, but still Luna. He glanced at her in confusion before it clicked. The dagger. The Malfoy dagger. But how had it gotten in there? When had he put the dagger in his sleeve? Luna raised a finger to her soft pink lips. "Sshh! Blind things can still hear!" With this cryptic remark, she began to walk forward, flattening out the hat and placing it on her head.

Hasan's jade green eyes widened at her audacity, before he strode powerfully in front of her and lead the way to the end. He would protect her. He wouldn't be able to protect everyone, but he'd protect her for sure.

As they neared, Hasan kept his eyes trained on the unknown man, knowing this to be Voldemort. He daren't glance at his friend and run the risk of faltering. He couldn't show any weakness. He could not feel!

Suddenly, the man's head snapped up to greet Hasan when he was about five feet away.

"Hasan Castell."

The man was handsome, very handsome, with dark hair and a sculpted jaw. His eyes were sharp, yet not altogether clear, as if they were guarding some great secret. On second thought, Hasan was sure they were.

Hasan stared, unable to move. What was he expected to do? Where was the snake? Why was he here? Was he in danger? Who was the captive? He didn't want to reveal his own intentions before knowing what the hell was going on.

"Who are you?" Hasan asked finally, jade eyes locking onto the man's.

"You already know me, Hasan,"—he smiled,—"I love books almost as much as you. Take a look." He dropped a graceful hand and Hasan allowed himself to see the book, and only the book, laying shut beside a still body. He would not look, and yet, that blonde hair was hard to ignore against the dark green tiles.

Hasan shoved all guilt from his mind. There shouldn't be any emotions, least of all guilt! They were friends, nothing more, nothing less, and yes, he did notice that Draco had been acting weird, and yes he could've searched his rooms, and yes, there were many things he could have done, but now, all the blame lay with Draco.

So then why was his chest constricting? He knew this book was Dark...he knew it from the start.

"Why?" Hasan asked, not caring to know How, or When, or What. In order to defeat an opponent, it was far more logical to figure out what he was fighting against.

"Because you wouldn't." Tom said, "I offered to answer all your questions if you just allowed me to show you this place. It's called the Chamber of Secrets by the way. Oh, but I forget my manners: You even brought a little friend. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle." He swished his wand in the air, Draco's wand, causing the words to rearrange themselves.

Hasan, who had not glanced back at Luna once, was surprised to hear her laugh.

"Oh! I get it! You're the man with many faces!" Luna released a tinkling laugh, even stamping on the floor to get out all the energy. "Ha! It's true!"

Hasan watched as Riddle's perfect face twitched before stealing a glance at Draco. He appeared unharmed, except for the waxy complexion that was extreme even for the sun deprived Malfoy heir. If Riddle was here, out of the diary, and Draco was here, clearly dying on the floor...Life was being transferred. But how was this possible, unless, unless...

Tom Riddle was completely oblivious to his change in demeanor, instead gesturing to the statue of Salazar's head as if unveiling a trophy.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts four!" A large rumbling filled the cavern as the mouth dropped open, immediately after which, a gigantean serpent came slithering forth, hissing and sputtering venom. This was the basilisk Hasan had heard in the walls. It was quite another thing to see it. He averted his eyes immediately, warning Luna to do the same, when Tom spoke again. "Don't be afraid, Hasan. You know I can control her and she won't strike until I give the order. So let's talk, you and me..."

Hasan could only nod, feeling his skin crawl beneath his eerie gaze. Could his soul be sucked out too? Or more specifically, could Tom Riddle steal his life force?

"Draco was a stupid little boy," Tom continued, "Always wondering what his father thought, or what Hasan thought. Hasan this, Hasan that. Do you think he trusts me, Tom? I feel like I've been obliviated, Tom! I-"

"How much longer?" Hasan interrupted, really not caring what internal thoughts plagued Draco at night. Tom tapped Draco's hand with his nearly solid shoe.

"As long as it takes for you to die. I don't have a flair for the dramatics, but I do intend to return his consciousness just as long as it takes for the life to fade from your eyes."

The basilisk hovered in Hasan's peripheral vision. What could he do? When could he do it...?

Suddenly, Luna let out a warrior cry and leapt forward! Hasan was about to scream at her when he noticed something peculiar: she had a sword in her hand, and the Sorting hat around her eyes. He would recognize the ruby hilt anywhere, the prophesized sword of Gryffindor, drawn and redrawn in art and diagrams of books. And the hat? Had Luna pulled the sword from the hat? Just like a true magician? The irony was enough to strike anyone dumb, but Hasan's pulse was spiking rapidly. The snake was rearing, barring its fangs and slashing its tail across the echoing ground.

Determined not to look in its eyes, Hasan allowed himself to watch the spritely witch stab at the basilisk like a great, deadly piñata. He wondered if luck would be enough to save them- what were the chances of Luna striking those beady eyes?

"Hasan, you worry too much!" Luna called out, sidestepping the snake's snapping jaws. She struck the dark green scales and then sliced straight through the stomach. It appeared to not have any affect except perhaps to make the serpent angrier.

"Her life force is very strong." Tom murmured from Hasan's side, "I wonder how strong I'd be-"

"Shut up, Voldemort!" Hasan screamed, forgetting Altair's instructions in the face of reality. "Don't you dare talk about Luna that way you sadistic bastard!"

"And then perhaps I'll make you watch as they both fade from existence. Have you ever had to hide a body, Hasan? It's not that hard-"

Hasan tuned him out as he watched the dance between the basilisk as Luna. Her blonde hair whipped around her face, the badgered hat still atop her head. He should be helping, he shouldn't be stalling Tom and hoping that Draco died any slower! But how? This- this thing- was a part of Voldemort's soul. He saw this now, but had no name for it. Was this another thing Altair failed to teach him about? Was this another thing that Altair knew much about?

"Yay!" A few yards down, Luna had managed to puncture one of the eyes, leaving the snake to spasm in air, thrashing wildly from the pain.

"Shit!" Riddle screamed, :Kill the girl! Kill the girl!: He hadn't expected the lunatic to get this far!

The beast, spurred by its Master's wishes, tried to focus on Luna with just one eye. Hasan had to do something, why hadn't he moved before?

"Stupefy!" Hasan growled, but the light barely itched the creature. Tom laughed softly from the side.

"Didn't you know? Magical beasts don't like magic." Tom taunted, staring down at Draco. "Shame, it seems as if your time to running out."

Hasan barred his teeth and sprinted towards Luna. Damn Tom, Damn Voldemort! He grabbed his dagger, wondering if it wouldn't just be a pinprick in the snake's armor, and began to stab everywhere he could, aiming for the underbelly and the neck. Somewhere in all this, they had backed up to the statue of Slytherin and using his resources, Hasan climbed atop the first layer of marble beard.

"Hasan! You can look now!" Luna declared in a cheery voice, succeeding in drawing his eyes away from everywhere but the snake's head. Indeed, if the snake was angry before, it was nothing compared to how furious it was now. It keened terribly, splintering their eardrums, and smashed its head down towards Luna.

:Kill! Kill!: Tom urged maniacally, :Kill them all!:

Without thinking, Hasan plunged himself before Luna, wrapping her in his arms as the snake came barreling down. He reached for his knife as the head drew near, shooting it upward in a blind show of faith. Was there any deity he could pray to?  Was luck about to forsake him forever?

His dagger hit bone in a sickening crack, as Luna's sword plunged up into the flesh of the mouth. Together, their weapons pierced through the skull, Luna's slicing open the brain. Like a machine, the snake shut down, tail going still, and head shaking before drooping. Up close, Hasan could see the punctured eyes, stabbed through with a needlelike accuracy. He turned back to Luna, never happier in his life whipped off her hat, and kissed her right on the cheek.

"Hasan, watch out-!"

But it was too late. The snake's head, skewered on the sword had slid down, barely brushing a sharpened fang against Hasan' outer robes, and yet, it tore through his fabric and his skin, the venom seeping into his flowing blood. Magical wounds were certainly something he could live without.

A wave of fatigue punched him in the head, as a fist clenches around his heart. The room spun, his senses extending only to steady breathing of Luna as she half-dragged, half-carried, him to the middle of the room.

"You like bargains, don't you Hasan?" Tom asked, "I get three for the price of one. He's dead, Hasan. Dead. Draco is-"

"SHUT UP!" Luna screeched, dropping Hasan gently and rearing back her fist. "YOU FUCKED UP PIECE OF SHIT! HOW COULD YOU?" She slammed her fist hard against the corporeal soul, making him double over with sheer pain.

Hasan's vision as swimming. Did Luna just punch the Dark Lord? He clutched his shoulder, wondering how he could be so stupid. Self-sacrifice had been farthest from his mind and yet...that only served to prove that he had an inward hero complex just like the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't want this! He didn't want this! But he wanted Luna alive even more than he cared about his self-esteem. If it meant keeping his friends safe, then to hell with his personal morals. To hell with self-preservation. He would sacrifice him Slytherin side if it meant keeping Luna safe...

What was wrong with him?

Distantly he heard Luna crouch before him, cupping his cheek with her hand.

"I knew it." she breathed. "But the unicorns confirmed my suspicions." Thinking that she had totally lost it, Hasan tried to shake his head, but she ignored this. "You have the most beautiful emerald eyes in the world."

Hasan froze.

:You! You are the Harry Potter?: Tom hissed curled in on himself with pain a little ways apart from them. :I thought I'd recognize you on sight, but perhaps not all my magic has been restored...:

Wait, that meant...Draco wasn't dead.

A glass stopper was uncorked from a bottle and something cool and lovely was poured over his shallow wound.

"Unicorn tears." Luna murmured. The skin began to reseal itself, the clarity restoring to Hasan's mind and sight. He saw Luna crawl to Draco and drop some of the liquid into Draco's mouth.

But no! It wouldn't work, it was the diary! It was all the diary! But how to destroy it? He glanced around for the sword of Godric Gryffindor, but Luna, detecting his thoughts, shook her head.

"It disappeared after I dropped it." Dropped? It? Shit! Shit! Shit!

Horrorstruck, Hasan saw Tom laughing to himself. And then, Hasan knew what to do.

"Give me the diary." Hasan requested softly. "Now please."

Luna lifted Draco's limp hand off of the book and slid it obediently across the floor to Hasan.

:Hey, wait!: Tom began to calm, blinking in confusion.

"You like bargains don't you, Tom?" Hasan raised the dagger above his head and plunged it straight through the pages, full of something much more sinister than ink. Something bled forth the diary, like ink or blood, or both, and Tom began to howl, desperately, angrily, and pathetically. "Selling your soul for the fraction of the benefits?" Tom began to scream, his outstretched hand vanishing into the air, his voice fading last, ringing in the empty chamber.

Luna was watching him curiously, bright silver eyes sharp and beautiful.

"You knew him, didn't you?" It wasn't a question. The blood lay at their feet- the liquid spilling.

"The French have two words for knowing. One is connaître, one is savoir. I knew him as one knows a fact, but not as a person. I don't think I'll ever know him as a person." Hasan said lightly. He peered into the inky pool and stared at his reflection. There was his green eyes and unruly black hair. His lightning bolt scar.

Strangely, he wasn't as relieved as he had thought...in fact, he was beginning to panic. How was he to go back? Harry Potter surely wouldn't be able to go striding freely down the halls of Hogwarts! Oh, what had he done? He squeezed his eyes shut and focused intensely on the face that was not his face. The mask that was no mask. Hasan not Harry, Hasan not Harry. This was a dream, a dream, a terrible terrible dream. Let him be Hasan!

A distant thud, footfalls.

Please! Please! Please!

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the one who was not him. He was Hasan. He was safe.

He locked eyes with Luna and she smiled despite her tears, before gesturing to the entrance. Right on time, a tentative whimper filled the room.

"L-Luna? H-Hasan?"

Hasan and Luna exchanged another glance.

"I called him." Luna whispered, holding up her ring hand. The Protean ring glinted on her finger.

"W-what's going on down here?" Neville asked, stepping further into the chamber. "What is this place?" When he reached the trio, his breath caught in his throat. "Is that? Is that Draco?" His eyes bugged in horror at the pasty blond, lying across the floor as if dead.

Luna nodded sadly. "I'm sorry Neville! I never meant it!"

"YOU? You did this?" Neville screamed in a hoarse whisper. The savior of the Wizarding world was paralyzed by the girl before him. The girl whom everyone called Loony Lovegood...what had she done to Draco?

Hasan gripped his wand.

"I'm! I'm so sorry, Neville!...But I haven't done it yet." Luna said nonsensically, tearing up. "But I wanted to apologize anyway."

Hasan shut his eyes. No! No! It was so obvious and yet fraught with so many contradictions! There had to be another way... Even as he struggled against his own unknown memories...

"Luna, I don't-" Neville protested helplessly.

"Obliviate." Hasan whispered, hitting Neville squarely in the chest with a jet of white light. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. The mantra pounding in the boy's brain. By what right did he have to take away information?

"Confundus!" Luna yelled instantly after, their spells hitting simultaneously. The Gryffindor golden boy shivered before slumping down unconscious. "You stabbed the Basilisk with the sword of Gryfindor and saved Draco from harm." Luna said clearly, swishing her wand around the boy's head.

The spell appeared to work, for Neville twitched in his dreamlike state. Satisfied, Luna beamed at Hasan as if the last hour had not happened. But Hasan knew it had. Knew it had not all been some figment of his creation. Hasan glanced around the chamber to the dead basilisk to the diary to his arm and to the bodies. It was just Hasan and Luna right now.

They were in it together.

.oOo.

Lucius sat at his desk, waiting, just waiting, for the elf to return. Dobby had been gone approximately nine minutes, and Lucius had begun to wonder what was keeping him.

Surely he hadn't been intercepted! Just as he was about to panic, Dobby had rematerialized with three hats on his head, a baggy green sweater, and a small package clutched in his hands.

"Mr. Malfoy sir must be treating Mr. Regulus' locket with great care!" Dobby squeaked in warning. "Dobby has agreed to trade his freedom for this, but Dobby is not wanting to share this evil! You must promise to destroy it, sir! Please, Mr. Malfoy sir!"

Lucius frowned down at the bundle as Dobby began to carefully unwrap it. A relatively small octagonal locket, ornamented with a green S, fell from an old silver chain.

"And what makes it so dangerous?" Lucius asked quietly.

Dobby hesitated, "I not be knowing, sir. We house-elves can just feel it, sir. Now Dobby must be off! Winky be helping Mr. Crouch with the funeral..."

With a snap the creature was gone, leaving the locket in a heap of chain on the bed. Lucius reached for his wand and cast several detecting charms, but sensed nothing in the way of wards or alarms. Well, Dobby had been so bent on destroying it, so perhaps this Kreacher had already broken through the minor protections?

He sighed and turned back to Altair's letter. Altair was waiting for him...all he had to do was send it and be done, yet he was certain that his headache wouldn't go away any time soon. In fact, Lucius had a sneaking suspicion that it would never go away until Altair willed it to. And wasn't that just a silly thought?

He wrapped the locket in a minor protection charm (for flight), before taking out some heavy parchment.

"Dear Altair,

What is the point of this? I need to know; I don't just fetch. My head is splitting and I deserve answers! My house-elf is free, no thanks to you, and my relationship with Narcissa has been disturbed by my secrecy. She suspects nothing of course, but has been out of the house for long periods of time with her friends. And I? How can she enjoy me in her life when I am all but chained to a devil's contract with you? I deserve to know: What exactly am I getting for you? Why are they dangerous? Why did my house-elf know? Is there a cure for my headaches?

Is there an end?

Sincerely,

L.A.M."

.oOo.

Severus Snape apparated just outside the Leaky Cauldron, merging into the stream of muggle pedestrians. He crossed the road at the crosswalk, and headed down until he reached the outskirts of the city.

Penelope's House, how suitable for one who's supposed to be dead. How could Altair not have known? How could Dumbledore not have known? Not for the first time, Snape wondered if his entire life was all just one practical joke. Perhaps he'd find out everyone was an actor and play back the footage of his pathetic confusion. Oh, he could only hope.

Severus turned down a lane into a small residential neighborhood, remembering bits and pieces from the pensieve memories. The area was so remote and away from Surrey that he didn't think the boy had run off, no matter how stupid he could be. Clearly, the Dursley's had hated the boy. How could Dumbledore have missed this too?

The sky began to darken into a pretty navy, with scarcely any clouds. Sickly looking grass grew by his feet and few buildings grew from the barren field. Just living here would drive a body insane! He passed by a farm and a large windmill, as well as a hill and a few other mounds. His sharp obsidian eyes were only ever on the shambles that was the orphanage. He was prepared to break through memory charms; he was prepared to break minds to get what he needed.

Had the Potter's son really made him into this? Severus sighed, knowing that this was a last reserve. Yes, Voldemort was up and about, hiding Merlin knows where, but Severus had a heart, (hidden somewhere in that black hole of his.)

He knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again. The door swung open to reveal a lanky man in overalls.

"Can I help you?" he held a book in his hand, and peering behind him, there were shelves. A library! Where was the orphanage? Had Hasan made it all up? Was Dumbledore mistaken?

"Did this used to be an orphanage?" Severus asked, his throat dry.

"Why yeah!" the man grunted, straw stuck out of his teeth. "But Social Services came after a particularly harsh complaint. So they gave the property over to me."

"And you are?"

"Ted. Won't you come in? Grab a book? You look like you like to read."

Snape tried his hardest not to sneer. "So you're a local?" he wondered.

"Yes! Been here ever since my grandpapa and my..."

Snape tuned him out and entered the decrepit the library. Compared to the Hogwarts library, this was merely a lost and found. He tried not to look around too disdainfully, slapping an awkward smile on his face.

"Do people usually come here?" Snape asked, eyes taking in the crudely cut log shelves with distaste.

"Rarely." the man snorted.

"What do they read?"

"Fiction mostly. Fantasy, Science fiction, history even!"

"The Lord of the Rings?" Snape suggested nonchalantly, turning and raising an eyebrow. The man nodded, happy to have found someone who was actually speaking with him for more than two minutes.

"Oh yes! But er- I'm missing the third book."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah, he was a good boy and all so I thought he'd return it by now...guess not. It's been about two years now."

Snape nodded carefully, wondering how to formulate his sentence. His heart was pounding as it did so rarely. He was so close, he could hear the response. He knew it, he knew the answer.

"And this boy...this boy...what did he look like?"

The librarian blinked at him, then smiled. "The boy? Oh, yes, I see now. His you could never forget his eyes- they were the most extraordinary emerald."

Something in Snape's mind shattered.

Chapter Text

A/N: So so sorry! I accidentally posted chapter 19 twice. Here is chapter 20!

She was beautiful once, with black hair, full lips, and blazing black eyes. She was loved once by a man, who was handsome as well as wealthy, and used to reside within a lovely little estate with millions of little house-elves who catered to her every whim. At least, this was what she thought.

Now, undeniably, she lay decrepit, heavy lids graying over, hair frizzing wildly and unkempt,  nails gnawed, teeth yellowed, hands and arms shaking, throat dry, cracked...Or maybe she was always like this? Hiding just beneath the surface?

Her eyes darted around, though there were no visitors, nor would there ever be, and she shuddered as a dementor came just a bit too close, reaching in a ghastly hand and grabbing at the air, in a motion very similar to choking...

"Just you wait till I get my wand and I'll blast you to bits!" Bellatrix ground out, barring her teeth and standing up in her rags. She had no wand, yet kept a hand out in front of her as if force of habit.

"Oh shut it will you, Bella? We're dead!" Junior groaned, and a sound like clanging metal beat against their joint wall. "My mother was our only hope! And now she's dead! She waited too damn long! NO! HE waited too damn long!"

"You relied on others and they failed! What else is new?" Bella screeched, creeping forward towards the dementor where it was still grasping at the air. "You stupid creature! I'll kill YOU!"

Hasan sighed as he slithered up the wall and into the prison corridor. His body was no shorter than an average worm, yet he did not inch, he slithered. The moans of insane prisoners, pleads for death, and nonsensical babbling filled the cold island with dread that pierced the thickest of wills. Hasan found it seeping into him, from the walls and from the sounds! He slid on, passing unnoticed beneath the familiar shapes of the dementors. He slid on, and on, and on...cells streaming past in blurs of hideous faces and myriad bars. So much magic was locked within these confines...so much hate. He sighed, relaxed, as the feelings swirled within him.

Hasan flicked his tongue in and out, tasting for Bellatrix Lestrange like a radar. He would have to be subtle until the strike...as he reached another intersection, more scents joined the first, less strong, but evident. There was no way of describing it, just that they were his. They called out to him always, and Hasan knew he would have come sooner if not for last year's delay. And what a delay it had been...

For the past year Hasan had been surviving, slowly building up what little he could salvage before facing anyone, whether it was friend or foe. He turned into the very next corridor, hit all at once with the scents of his own. Dementors floated down the hall, feasting off the frivolous ideas that his followers had, (for surely they couldn't have happy thoughts). One was even reaching its hand into a cell and swiping at the air.

Hasan smiled and shifted his skin, feeling the scaly armor flow off of him like a layer of water, revealing naught but a little man. They could not see him yet, for he was not in view, but they would see and they would know who had saved them. He stepped forward and muttered a stream of Latin that obliterated the dementors into sand.

Bellatrix was the first to realize their absence and rushed to the bars, cackling madly. She did not expect much more than a guard with a bowl of slush, or perhaps a Ministry official come for off-the-record interrogations. When her eyes had dashed across what little she could see from her cell, she let out a blood curdling shriek of delight.

"MY LORD! MY LORD!"

Instantly, the others were up, Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange. They woke fully to the sound of Junior's cruel taunt.

"Finally gone mad have, ya?" Junior sneered.

Hasan let Bella look her full before he walked slowly down the hall. Gasps echoed from both sides, ever accompanied by Bella's shrieks of insane pleasure. Hasan smirked, bare feet brushing through the dementor sand, black cloak swishing against his short, frail, body, no more than a trace of his former glory...

"Confringo!"

The entire corridor illuminated with light, walls blasting apart, shattering from the mere power stored behind the word, Bellatrix's laughter ..."My Lord! My Lord! My Lord!"

.oOo.

Hasan started, chest heaving as if all his magic had been compressed and blasted out. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his hands shook with the magical residue.

The dementors! Azkaban! He fruitlessly tried to get up, but his legs became entangled in the smooth sheet, sending him toppling to the ground.

It was then that Hasan realized that he was nowhere near Azkaban, that he no longer possessed scales, and that he was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He glanced around the white infirmary, spotting Draco fast asleep in the bed beside him. Uh! His head! What had happened? Where was Neville? Where was Luna? And what the hell had he just seen?

One thing at a time.

Hasan steadied his breath and rearranged himself back onto the bed. The last thing he remembered was getting hit with a stunner, sometime after Neville was confounded... Suddenly, the doors of the Hospital Wing burst open, revealing the headmaster in somber blue robes and a tall, pale man with a weary, pale face. This man was Lucius Malfoy, though one wouldn't believe it right away. His cheeks were sallow, forehead wrinkled, blond hair thinning into a seedy silver sheet.

Hasan didn't have time to lean back and feign sleep, so he simply stared. And amazingly, the two stared back.

"Mr. Castell." Dumbledore said not unkindly, blue eyes twinkling behind those half-moon spectacles, "How are you feeling?" His voice was strained, as if he had just run a long time, or had been shouting.

Lucius' eyes, previously trained on his knocked-out son, were now appraising Hasan with sharp grey eyes. Something flickered in their depths, but Hasan couldn't it be, it was so quick.

Hasan bit his lip and assessed himself, not feeling remotely as hurt as he had predicted.

"I feel fine."

The headmaster nodded slowly before turning to Draco's unconscious form.

"And he?"

"Draco's asleep."

"Oh, of course." Albus said absently, "Well I've other matters to attend. Neville Longbottom, for instance-"

Lucius cleared his throat.

"Er- oh yes, you may remain with your son- Poppy? Can you come here to assist Mr. Malfoy?" Albus quickly tacked on.

"I assure you, I can handle myself quite well, thank you." Lucius sneered, not having lost any of his verbal touch.

"Poppy!" Albus called just a little louder with a hint of panic. When the matron finally bustled out from her office, Albus gave a placating smile that did not quite meet his eyes, and strode over to a bed surrounded by room dividers. (Poppy, seeing that there was no reason for her to be there, returned to her office.)

Hasan kept the headmaster in his peripheral vision at all times, but allowed Malfoy Sr. to occupy his current attention. To put it politely, the man looked terrible (as terrible as a Malfoy could look), and Hasan had to wonder why. Weren't the Malfoy's rolling in Galleons? What could possibly vex a family so rich and powerful? Except, perhaps, the man was worried about his son? Hmm.

"Mr. Castell." Lucius nodded curtly.

"Lord Malfoy." Hasan countered.

"Please, Narcissa insists that you call me Lucius." he bit out.

Hasan smiled lightly, "I suppose you may call me Hasan. After all, Draco has given me your family dagger."

"How could I forget?" Lucius said sardonically. "A Castell owning a Malfoy dagger..."

Hasan frowned: There was no reason for the man to hate him, Hasan, personally. Yet his tone suggested an overall dislike towards the Castell name. Hasan couldn't help but see the parallel between Snape's irrational dislike towards the Potter name, and wondered briefly if Altair had known this man during his time at Hogwarts. The idea had never occurred to him, but now...didn't it make sense?

"Have you known another Castell?" Hasan asked bluntly, watching the man like a hawk.

Lucius seemed to hesitate, "I don't recall ever meeting another Castell." Lucius confessed bitterly, "Yet I am positive one of them is haunting me now."

"Oh." What was there left to say?

"But you can tell your mentor -" Lucius continued with a slight edge,-"That I will do everything in my power for my family . " He looked sadly to Draco, "My family means the world to me."

Oddly, the threat smoothed away to genuine affection, and Hasan was left as confused as ever. Tell his mentor? Why would Altair need to know anything? And if they had never met, why did it seem as if they had? Unless...Lucius was lying?

And then Hasan remembered as if a spark shot through him: The Blood Book and the Dementors...the clarity was startling, but why? Surely the conclusion was always this obvious to reach? L.A.M. was Lucius and A.D.C. was Altair- he had known this.

So why did he feel as if Lucius was not lying? Why did it feel like Lucius was telling the truth and he had never met Altair before in his life?

Was an obliviate involved? Were there memories...the memories! Hasan blinked his dull jade eyes, desperate to express his triumph in some way. Fortunately, Lucius was busy staring at his son to pay much attention to Hasan's facial changes. Which was good, Hasan supposed, for he was in a state of confusion, and therefore of vulnerability. How was he to corroborate his suspicions?

Were there more memories inside his head? And if Lucius had indeed been obliviated by Altair, had Hasan been obliviated too? Or perhaps, would Hasan be obliviated if he later asked Altair if his suspicions were true?

No. Direct confrontation was not an option. Just another secret to the load...just one more, Hasan thought dejectedly.

At his right, Draco gave a sudden gasp of breath and Lucius nearly sighed out in relief.

"Draco, Draco, Draco..." Lucius murmured warmly, gathering the boy up in his arms.

"Wha-?" Draco blurted, apparently too shocked for words. "Father? What are you-? Where am I? Wait, no! Get away! He might still be inside m-!"

"Draco?" Lucius questioned, keeping his voice calm even as his muscles tensed for action.

But Hasan was faster, "Neville has saved us." (Or more specifically, Neville had saved him from suspicion.)

"Oh, I-!" Draco turned his head to Hasan, blond hair sticking out at odd angles. His silver eyes were positively bursting with emotion, more feeling than he had ever shown. Joy, confusion, guilt, anger, remorse. "I'm- Hasan, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-!"

Lucius looked bewilderedly between the friends, trying in vain to follow the unsaid story.

"All is done." Hasan said in a tone that suggested he had better be quiet. Draco in his hysteria, however, crumbled in tears, muttering incoherently. Tom Riddle had been inside his head, controlling him. Using his mouth to give orders to the Basilisk, poisoning his mind with thoughts of betrayal. Was he gone? Was Draco free? Or was Tom Riddle lying dormant in his soul this very instant? Was it latent as it was in the diary? Waiting for the opportune moment to strike?

Lucius continued to hold his son, clearly puzzled. A Malfoy apologizing to a Castell? Clearly there was more to the story than the letter suggested.

When Draco had finally regained some composure, he whispered, "I'm sorry I took the books...the diary."

Lucius stiffened, remembering a certain request from one Altair Castell. The diary. He shoved it from his mind, determined to think of it later.

It was at that moment that the doors parted again, gently so that no sound escaped, letting in the Potions Master.

.oOo.

(1 Hour Previous)

Narcissa flicked her wand in the direction of the kitchen, causing the various pots and pans to start scrubbing themselves with unnecessary vigor. She had just finished breakfast with her husband, a quiet affair, in which neither said little more than the proper how do you do?

Lucius sat at the table, staring off into space with one hand riffling through his thin hair. He was becoming increasingly quiet by the day, freezing her out, and shoving her off with her friends. Of course, she was always the one to create the arrangements, but he had not once protested at her increasing absences. To say it was unusual was an understatement. Though they did not share a bed, presenting a united front was a Malfoy priority, and lately, Lucius was sorely neglecting it.

And why? Why did he freeze her out like this? Was he seeing another woman on the side? Was he simply falling out of love? She had to know! It was her right! Why could he go dallying around when she was practically chained to the man through marriage? Didn't she at least deserve to know who it was that stole his heart?

"Lucius?" she asked, eyes narrowing sharply. "Do you love me?"

Lucius was immediately shocked out of his reverie, even spilling his coffee onto the table. Narcissa spelled it away.

"Love you?" Lucius repeated slowly, not comprehending.

"Yes, Lucius! LOVE!" Narcissa screamed. "Or do you not know the meaning of love! Perhaps you have found it somewhere else or forgotten it all together!"

Lucius' mouth worked vainly to form the words. "I- Narcissa- Ciss-!"

"No! I don't want to hear your excuses! It's fine alright? I see the owls! I notice how you don't look at me in that way anymore and how you always hole yourself up in your room!-"

"CISSA!" Lucius yelled, relieved and panicked all at once. "I love you, I do! I love you!"

But strangely, it sounded wrong in his own ears...he had the most ludicrous dream the other night where he whispered those three magic words in the ear of another. And now, repeating them to Narcissa rang so false and artificial. Narcissa seemed to pick up on this as well, for her face scrunched up in grief.

"It's fine, you know! You've got an heir and what am I?" Narcissa cried, voice cracking, "I don't mind it! But you could at least tell me who he is!"

"H-he?" Lucius wondered.

Soft locks, satin sheets, another body pressed up against his own...lungs breathing as one.

"Oh- no- I-" Narcissa sobbed, "Oh! Just forget about it! I meant she! I meant she! Oh, but what does it matter? I saw the owls! I know that Dobby's off helping your mistress!"

"Narcissa, please!" Lucius begged, "I didn't- I'm not seeing anyone!"

Narcissa quieted and shivered with grief.

"Don't lie to me." she whispered.

"And Dobby, he-" Lucius started as he realized that he had no good story for Dobby yet.

"I said DON'T LIE TO ME!" Narcissa bellowed. "I don't care! Just admit it! You don't love me anymore! You write love notes to your mistress and she replies at midnight or when you think I have left!"

Lucius swallowed. He hadn't believed he had been so transparent. And what was worse? A mistress or Altair? Should he tell her the truth? He hesitated and knew instantly that he could not. She didn't deserve this suffering; he could handle Altair himself.

"Narcissa, please, I'm sorry-!" Lucius begged...just as a letter came zipping in from the window. Their eyes met and she raised an eyebrow in disgust.

"I won't have my husband lying to me!" Narcissa shrieked. She reached for the letter, but Lucius was faster. He grasped her small white wrist and lunged, just as she twisted around, blocking him with her body and reaching with her other hand. The two scrambled over each other in vain attempts to capture the fluttering envelope, but neither succeeding in subduing the other for long.

Finally, after much struggle, Lucius tore the envelope from the air, determined to burn it and request another, when it came flying out of his hand! Narcissa smiled triumphantly, in a twisted sort of way, wand outstretched in front of her. Lucius had not the time to draw his own wand to summon it back, before his wife had torn it open, and with it, his life. He was a dead man! He was a dead man!

Surely she would hate him. Surely she would accuse him of keeping more secrets and not trusting her! Lucius was done for! He watched her, as if in slow motion, extract the parchment and unfold it. He watched her sky blue irises dart across the page and her tearstained face morph into an expression of horror. Lucius was damned. Damned. Damned...

"It's Draco."

Lucius' mind began to function again.

"It's Draco!" Narcissa repeated softly, tears welling in her eyes. "He's been hurt! Come, look! Oh, Draco! My poor baby!"

She proffered the letter with a shaking grip, biting back her moans of agony.

Tentatively, Lucius took the note and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,

I am writing to inform you of a terrible accident which has occurred late last night. Three students, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, and Hasan Castell were found stunned in the hallway early this morning. The cause is uncertain. All three are currently resting in the Hospital Wing.

You are welcome to visit your child in the healing process,

Albus Dumbledore

Lucius was shaking now too. Hasan Castell had to have had a hand in this, and what about the Boy-Who-Lived? His marriage! His child! Everything was crumbling...

A slim body pressed against his suddenly, tears dripping onto the shoulder of his cloak.

"Oh, Lucius! I'm so scared! What if he's hurt? I have to g-go and see him!"

"Cissa- I, Cissa, I love you." Lucius murmured. "I don't know what's gotten into me, but I assure you I'm not seeing anyone." He took her white cheeks between his palms. "Cissa, look at me. I love you. Only you."

Narcissa wept into his good robes, holding him around the middle for dear life. She reached forward to give him a kiss, when suddenly he jerked away from her, hissing as he clutched his forearm.

Her eyes widened. "Lucius? Lucius? Are you okay? What's wrong? It's- It can't be!"

Lucius' face screwed up in pain as he fell heavily into the kitchen chair, gritting his teeth for all it was worth.

"Oh! Ice! Ice! Dobby! Get ice!"

The little house-elf appeared sometime during his daze, and a cold pack of ice cubes was pressed to his arm. Pain, so sharp and intense ripped through his veins, without any reason at all.

"Lucius! Are you alright! Say something! It's your mark- It's inflamed!"

Lucius cracked open an eyelid and glanced at his arm, where indeed the mark had turned black with a blue bruise around it. His heart plunged below to the lowest pit of hell. It could not be. It could NOT be. But somehow...somehow...

"He's back." Lucius whispered hoarsely, "There's no other explanation. He's back."

"Oh!" Narcissa cried, head in hands.

"Oh! Poor Lucius and Cissa!" Dobby wailed, not sure what to do.

"I thought we were free. I thought it was over..." Lucius murmured to himself, breathing steadily as the pain went down. "I am so glad you are not marked, Narcissa." he said tiredly. "Because then you'd have to suffer every much as me."

"Oh, Lucius! Don't! You don't deserve this! Draco doesn't deserve this! Oh, this is terrible!" Narcissa cried. "He'll go after Draco- I know it! He'll try and gather as many as possible! Not my baby!"

Lucius cleared his throat uncomfortably. There was no way around it this time.

"Cissa...?" he ventured slowly. "I think we'd be lucky to even last that long."

"W-why?" she asked, blue eyes lifting to his. "Haven't we served him loyally? There would be no reason..."

"Cissa, I am truly sorry but I fear I must have replaced a valuable artifact"- or two, or three- "and despite my best intentions I feel that he won't be so understanding."

"So that's it then." Narcissa whispered. "That's it- we're dead. We're dead. Oh, no, don't blame yourself, Lucius. We knew either path was dangerous. Just a slip, ill-intentioned or not, could have ended any one of us. It just happens to be now."

Lucius swallowed down his guilt. He had condemned his family, hadn't he? There was nothing they could do now....except...maybe?

"I'll go to Dumbledore."

"W-what?"

"I'll ask Dumbledore for his protection- Merlin knows it's saved Snape's hide all these years." he swallowed again. "It's the only way to save us all."

Narcissa nodded solemnly. "I think...I think that's all we can do..." A hand shot out to grasp his arm as he made to move towards the door. "You mean, right now?"

Lucius nodded. "It wouldn't help Draco's recovery any if he saw his mother in tears."

"Oh, I nearly forgot..." she smiled pitifully. "Yes, I see now. Go talk to Dumbledore and make sure our Dragon's alright....and perhaps that Hasan Castell. He is family, you know."

Lucius' mouth quirked up in a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Narcissa. With a little help, I'm sure we'll get through this."

He shook off her hand gently and bent down to kiss her on the lips.

"We'll get through this, I promise."

With that, he grabbed his wand and strode out the door, leaving behind his hopeful wife, much too good for him. He walked down the lane, passing bright white peacocks, and apparated just past the front gate.

Narcissa watched him leave, teary eyes following his every move. Her life was on the scales. Could nothing be simple?

She sighed deeply and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief Dobby had given her.

"It's going to be alright." Dobby said, shuffling his sock covered feet, before snapping his fingers and vanishing.

And just at that moment...a tiny black owl came rapping at her door.

.oOo.

Lucius arrived somewhere outside the Forbidden Forest, face marred by distress, heart thumping wearily. Yet he still found it in him to glare at some thestrals who were creeping along the purlieus, causing them to snort their great skeletal noses and retreat into the darkness.  It did not matter that tears stained his robes or that he was all but running to the castle; all that mattered was that he see Dumbledore and see Draco. So little time...faster! Faster! Malfoy pride flew out the door.

He wondered absently if Severus could help him gain the old coot's favor. Perhaps there was a trick to it? Did he have to beg? Lucius hoped not- but what choice did he have? He continued to run.

By the time his best shoes had struck actual stone, he was out of breath and desperately trying to retain whatever dignity he had left. The castle doors were tall, so extremely tall, and nostalgia punched him in the gut: Remember when you were a child? Do you remember when everything was simple?

Well, the answer was: No, I bloody hell do not because Altair messed with my head!

He sighed and pushed open the doors, though he was positive that they had opened of their own accord. He knew deep down that Hogwarts was welcoming him home, as she did all her wayward children. Did he feel touched? Warmed? There was no time for thought.

Lucius prowled through the empty halls, wondering if all the children had some sort of holiday he did not know about. Or maybe they had sensed his presence and ran to the darkest crevices of their rooms, terrified and not knowing why. He did not notice when he had reached the headmaster's office until he was face to face with the stout old gargoyle.  Oh! Merlin! Just great! Lovely!

"Acid pops! Chocolate frogs! Cockroach clusters!" There were no words to express how silly he felt. He was crying nonsense to the wind. "Lemon drops! Oh for the love of-"

"I hope I'm not too terribly late, am I?" a grandfatherly voice asked from behind. Lucius whipped around: There was Dumbledore in all his blue robed glory, looking for all the world as if he had just come back from a relaxing stroll of daisy smelling.

"I-Excuse me." Lucius muttered quietly, relieved and so embarrassed.

Dumbledore just stared down at him with a kind smile. "No, excuse me. The password is: Lacrimosa."

Lucius nodded numbly as the gargoyle hopped aside and the staircase twirled upwards, leading to a type of magical sanctuary.

"Come in, my boy. Follow me." Albus said warmly, striding past Malfoy and starting up the stairs. "I had a feeling you would come."

Oh...Lucius followed as bid albeit uncomfortably, emerging into the office with caution. No matter what his intentions, he was still technically in enemy territory, and he, an enemy of his host. He would have to tread carefully, very carefully. The old man leaned against his desk and cocked his head, eyes twinkling expectantly.

Lucius swallowed. How in Salazar's name had Severus started this? Should he drop down and beg? No! Malfoy's did not beg! What then? He was already humiliated enough! What then?

"How did you know?" Lucius finally asked, giving an involuntary shake of his left arm.

Albus eyed it with pity. "I? I was informed by Professor Snape. He has remarkable foresight."

"So he really is a spy for the light." Lucius murmured. "I've had my doubts the same as everybody else, but now I see...I need your help." he blurted.

Albus appeared unfazed. "Why can't you go to your Master for help? I'm sure he would oblige his loyal followers."

Lucius ground his teeth. Was the man truly this thick? The Dark Lord did not know the meaning of 'Loyal' and he certainly didn't 'oblige'.

"He does not give favors." Lucius bit out. "I need help to protect my family. My family, Dumbledore! Surely you would not deny a father protection for his family!"

The old wizard stroked his long white beard and shook his head. "If only it were that simple." He raised his ice blue eyes and looked straight into Malfoy's pale face. "I already have Severus. Why would I need another spy? And besides, Voldemort cannot truly be back, can he? As his right hand man, surely you would have attended to him by now."

Lucius took a step forward, enraged and desperate beyond belief. "Albus! I am begging you! I have gold! You can have it all! I'll take care of myself! Just hide them , if nothing else, if-if anything at all, please just protect my wife and son!"

There was that damnable twinkle, brightly flickering behind pale eyes. Albus suddenly turned to his phoenix, a bird Lucius swore was not there before, and began to trill in high musical pitches.

Oh, Merlin! The man was barmy! He was asking a lunatic! They were dead! Lucius was a dead man and he had condemned everyone along with him!

The trilling continued for another five minutes, ending in a great fluttering of red wings. The phoenix fixed him with a beady stare.

"Lucius Malfoy, do I have your word that you will do all in your power to stop Voldemort no matter the cost?"

Lucius froze. Did that mean-? Dumbledore was serious. To stop Voldemort no matter the cost...What would he give to see his wife and son live free?

"I thought you had no need for another spy." Lucius couldn't help but reply bitterly.

Albus tilted his head. "No, no we don't. But we could certainly use another Order member. I happen to remember a certain House-elf named Dobby who was quite adamant that you had the very best insight into the Dark Lord's mentality. I can think of a number of ways in which this information can be put to good use."

Lucius gaped. Dobby had been...here? Petitioning for him? Wait...why didn't he just ask Dobby to apparate him? He shoved his annoyance beneath his hope.

"I know certain things that even Severus doesn't know." Which was partly true, seeing as Altair had apparently removed those memories.

"Oh, I'm sure of it." Dumbledore said jovially. "Now do we have a deal, Mr. Malfoy?"

"My word for my family's protection?"

"Yes." Dumbledore beamed. "That's all I ask."

There wasn't a choice. "Then I give you my word."

Albus seemed to sigh out in relief, and a breath Lucius had not been aware he had been holding was released.

"Good. Very good. I shall introduce you at the next Order Meeting...although I'm not sure how some people will take the news. People still haven't truly gotten over Severus."

Lucius nodded, feeling light in the head. Even when he sided with the Light, he was unwelcomed. Peace never did seem to run in the Malfoy family. Why Draco was-

"My son?" Lucius asked faintly, suddenly remembering the primary reason for his visit. "What happened?"

"Well, that seems to be the problem, doesn't it?" Albus replied pleasantly, started to pace across the great room, blue robes trailing behind him.

"You mean you don't know?" Lucius repeated in disbelief, having that lovely experience of realizing something very obvious. If Albus was unable to even protect those inside the castle, then how in hell was he going to protect his family?

"Oh, I'm sure I know." Albus said cryptically, "But your guess is as good as mine as to how it came to be. Two students found Neville, Mr. Castell and your son all stunned outside the girl's bathroom, with no evidence but bloody clothes, the Sorting hat, and a most peculiar diary."

Lucius swallowed.

"Yes, it was most unusual with no ink whatsoever. I wonder who could've given it to them." His frosty eyes blinked away tears. "To think I could have lost him...Well, let's go down, shall we?"

.oOo.

Narcissa stared. There was a black owl rapping at her door. An owl with a letter. Uncontainable fury rose within her. That bastard had lied! Had LIED! A vase shattered nearby, sending shards of glass and water everywhere. There was a lover...there were owls, she had not imagined them. Without hesitating, she let the poor little creature inside, where it flapped its merry way inside her home. It held but a single letter, a scrolled up piece of parchment with a ruby red ribbon tied in a bow. She felt like Pandora, her hands touching what her eyes did not yet know. But there was no thought in her movements as the ribbon fluttered to the floor.

Was it someone she knew? Or perhaps some foreign witch he had met by some dubious means? How far along was their relationship? Did they mention her? Was she a secret? Or perhaps "that other woman"? Did she dare break her own heart? There were no thoughts.

Her nimble fingers began to carefully unwrap the message, her heart pounding in her throat. It seemed her world had gone topsy-turvy: first Draco, then the Dark Lord, and now Lucius. There wasn't any anchor she could grasp anymore. What was normal? What was stable?

Her sky blue eyes dashed across the page, freezing at the top as a distressed whine rose in her throat.

"Narcissa,"

There at the top was her name, written in elegant script with no indication of the letter being for anyone else. She frowned at this new puzzle, her brows furrowing on her pale face as she glanced quickly towards the door. The timing had been perfect...was someone watching her right now? Or was it simply a coincidence?

She shivered involuntarily and read:

"Narcissa,

My deepest apologies for all you have suffered because of me. I sense a growing distance between you and your husband, and yet, the distance is only on the part of one and not the other. Narcissa, you are lovely. Why would he ever seek a mistress? These letters? His correspondent? They are from me and I assure you, I will never capture your husband's heart.

But down to business.

I understand the Dark Lord is not as vanquished as he first appeared. I also understand that Draco was harmed last night by an artifact that once belonged to the Dark Lord. If you are every bit as intelligent as you are beautiful, you will understand why some things must be done and done in secret. This is why I ask you to not mention this to your husband. He has his secrets, you will have yours, and in the end? Draco will live in a world free of the sufferings your husband must endure.

This artifact I have mentioned is only one in a series of seven. If you wish to protect all that you hold dear, you will retrieve another one of these objects so that I may destroy it. I request this of you specifically because there is an object sitting, this very moment, in the Vault of your sister. It is Hufflepuff's Cup, and it will be found in the Lestrange Vault, only accessible to those who share the family's blood, whether it is the wife's side or the husband's. You see now why I ask this only of you.

I would suggest a disguise, a very polite goblin named Griphook, and a bag so that you may send it off with Raven as soon as the cup is acquired.

I wish you the best of luck,

Altair D.C."

Narcissa was left frozen for several moments. Who in the world was Altair D.C.? And why had he just decided to reveal himself now? What secrets did Lucius keep for him? What were these other artifacts? She remembered vaguely now that the Dark Lord had given her husband a package for safe keeping, and under no circumstances was he to see harm to it. So how had it gotten to Hogwarts? To Draco?

But above all, Narcissa was relieved. Lucius had spent hours writing to a man? She laughed freely- at least she had no competition to worry about. In fact, the man almost seemed concerned about the welfare of her marriage. And why would that be? She couldn't recall meeting an Altair in her life! Maybe during her time at Hogwarts? She thought back, but nothing came to mind but a hazy wall. It had been so many years, and surely she would have remembered such an interesting name? Narcissa shook her head. No, she had never met this man before in her life...so then why did she feel as if she owed this man?

There was no sense to it. She would do as he said only to protect her family. It was no secret, even within the family, that Bellatrix was more than a little insane. Now that Narcissa's loyalties were decided, it was plain to see how twisted the Dark side had become. If something dangerous was lurking in the Lestrange vault, then Narcissa would be more than happy to get it. Besides, what were the chances that her imprisoned sister or brother-in-law would gain amnesty and decide to fetch that exact artifact from the Wizarding Bank?

Decided, Narcissa cast a quick charm on herself to appear as a middle-aged woman with black and white hair (instead of her golden blonde) before summoning her cloak. She fixed the vase as an afterthought, and let the little owl creep into her pocket. With a faint pop, Narcissa was gone, and not one second later did she rematerialize outside the steps of Gringotts.

She walked in, feeling increasingly self-conscious, though it was technically legal for her to be doing this.

"Name?" Griphook asked roughly, as she stepped up to the desk. He was weighing each individual ruby on a scale, paying more attention to the numbers and his report than the woman in front of him.

"Narcissa Malfoy." she whispered, swallowing uncomfortably.

"To which Malfoy Vault would you like to-?" Griphook asked, rubbing at the red surface with a sense of ennui.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal from one of my sister's- Vault 989."

Something in the goblin's face clicked, for he seemed to chuckle under his breath. His beady black eyes snapped up to hers as he reached for something in the drawer.

"Of course. Of course." he said. "And if I could have identification?"

Nodding, Narcissa extracted her wand and handed it to the creature. The goblin's nails barely touched the stick, feeling repulsed and envious of the wand all at once.  After studying it for about the length of time he had studied the rubies, he handed it back over the desk.

"Right this way, Mrs. Malfoy. I always knew it was a matter of time."

Unable to make sense of these words, Narcissa nodded and followed the goblin down to the carts.

.oOo.

"My Lord!" Bellatrix crooned, soft clean hair falling around her shoulders. She was garbed in a deep green dress with a black cloak that covered most of her frail body. It had been but two mere hours since the alarms had sounded through the stone halls of Azkaban, when the incompetent guards had rushed to discover seven of the highest profile prisoners had escaped...now, the, all kneeling before the Dark Lord on a stone floor. "It has been so long! But I never once Death Eaters were recovering in the Lestrange Manor believed you had been vanquished, my Lord! No, never you!" The woman flung herself by his feet, twisted joy coming out in uncontrollable giggles.

Voldemort's lips quirked up in a sinister smile as his tiny hand continued to stroke his snake, Nagini.

"Is that so?" he asked. "Have all of you displayed the same faith as Bellatrix? Or have you forgotten about me in your hours of solitude? Had you not been imprisoned, would you have sought me out? Or perhaps, like the Malfoys, would you have moved on and tried to carve out a future for yourself?"

The Death Eaters shuddered, not able to meet their Master's scrutinizing gaze.

"I would have, my Lord!" Barty Crouch Jr. cried out. "I would have come if not for my mother..."

"Your mother? Do elaborate." Voldemort drawled, tilting his great ugly head on his frail shoulders.

"She had a terminal disease and would have switched places with me. But my father refused and the next thing I heard was that she died."

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully, before hissing something to Nagini, who slithered down from her perch to mingle among his servants. They shivered as she passed, unable to help themselves.

"I will reward you all, as I reward all my loyal followers. All in good time...but now we must focus our energy into gathering forces."

Bellatrix, Junior, Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber, Rodolphus, and Rabastan all nodded their immediate concurrence.

"Good. Now I must speak with Bellatrix alone."

Eager to be out of the thing's presence, the wizards apparated from the premises, even Rodolphus who was not entirely sure how he felt about this new Dark Lord. Voldemort was no longer tall, handsome, or elegant- now he was nothing more than a glorified fetus, disgusting to even look at...but Rodolphus was happy to be out of Azkaban, and he intended to survive for just a bit longer.

Alone in the room, Bellatrix crawled up to her master, face the picture of lovesick concern.

"My lord?" Bellatrix asked sweetly, kneeling down in front of the leather armchair that acted as his thrown.

The Dark Lord appraised her silently, waiting for Nagini to wrap herself around his chair again.

"I have a task for you, Bellatrix, that has to do with a certain artifact I had entrusted to you before my, ah, supposed downfall." he said slowly, watching as her face lit up.

"Anything!" she panted. "Anything at all!"

"I need you to retrieve it for me...just to be sure that your loyalties are where you say."

"Oh yes! I will, my Lord! Right away!"

Voldemort stroked Nagini's scales with feather light touches, knowing that Bellatrix wanted nothing more than to switch places with his snake.

"You have ten minutes, Bellatrix. Do not disappoint."

Chapter Text

A/N: Before we start, I'd like to say you're in for a wild ride. Read slowly and please enjoy! And many of you have expressed interest in the sisters confronting each other. I am so sorry *runs and hides* this was already written! I had no idea you guys would have wanted that, but hm, well maybe in the future there will be something of that.

A/N2: Like before, please be very careful with the times! I am extremely sorry for the confusing mess that is my writing. I wrote this is a very weird order because new ideas kept flooding my mind and I needed things to fit inside one another and...it got pretty complicated. This being said, please read, review, and ENJOY.

Griphook gestured for Narcissa to enter, an amused smile playing on his lips. Goblins seldom delved into the affairs of wizards, but Griphook was certainly aware of them, and took particular joy in doing nothing at all.

Narcissa stepped carefully into the room, having been warned that there was a duplication spell on anything she touched. Mounds of gold intermixed between illegal artifacts, precious family heirlooms, and various other things were piled to the ceiling of one of the deepest vaults.

"Hufflepuff's cup..." Narcissa murmured, spotting it amid a thin tower of jewels. She stepped carefully around the treasure, walking as close as she could to the cup. "I don't suppose Accio works down here..." she muttered bitterly.

Griphook laughed from the door.

"Climbing is the easiest way."

Narcissa tried not to glare at the creature, for she knew that as soon as she touched something, everything would multiply and scorch her body. But it was nothing a little potion couldn't fix. Firming her resolve, she leapt into the air, grabbing wildly at the tower than began to crumble into millions of fake coins and jewels. She could only imagine how foolish the goblin thought her.

She grunted with the effort of staying afloat. It was like grabbing a fistful of sanding and praying that it could hoist you up. The fake treasure burned her bare arms, legs, and face as things went flying. Eventually, her hands clasped the handles of the cup, and this too began to multiply.

"Ahh!" She kept a firm hold on the real cup, sensing a sort of power run up her arm at the touch. What was this? Why had the Dark Lord entrusted such a dangerous object to her sister and not to her? Well, there were seven- perhaps they were scattered everywhere. A dread settled over her heart- though she knew not why, and she leapt for all it was worth, down to the blazing pit of gold, before scampering out the door.

Her body ached from the burns, and she cradled the cup to her chest. The duplication spell had worn off as she exited the vault, and Griphook shut the door behind her.

"Well done! Well done!" he cried. "Would you like a bag, perhaps?"

Narcissa glared at him, "Yes, please." she hissed, angry that he found such joy in her suffering.

The two clambered back into the cart, where Griphook reached beneath the seat and pulled out a small woven sack. As the ride began to the surface, Narcissa secured the cup inside of it, and spelled it tied onto the owl.

Oh, what she did for strangers...she rubbed at her arm, determined to ask Severus for a burn balm as soon as he stopped by.

She thanked the goblin, who was still chuckling under his breath, and strode out into the lobby feeling triumphant. Finally, she was able to help her family, even if her part was never known.

From somewhere on her right, a deep honeyed voice spoke to a preoccupied goblin. This speaker was hidden beneath a heavy black cloak, yet her face was imprinted into Narcissa's mind. Black hair, full lips, heavy lids.

"Vault 989."

.oOo.

Severus Snape approached the Hospital Wing like a ghost or some other creature of the night. His eyes were a burning obsidian and his composure was altogether decomposed. There were many things pressing on his mind, and as immaculate as he liked to think himself, he knew that even he could not hope to organize the mess that was his life.

Perhaps it was when he woke up previously that day to the sound of panicked knocking...

Now, Severus didn't like to overestimate his reputation, but he was pretty sure only a dunderhead would dare to wake the Potions Master at this early hour. Even so, he dragged himself out of bed, grabbed a long black robe (the teaching kind, not a bathrobe) and thrust open the door to bring doom around the ears of whoever it was that stood outside. A foolish Gryffindor, out pranking? A stupid Hufflepuff who had lost his way? An indignant Ravenclaw, ready to spit fire because of a bad grade?

"What?" Severus growled, before realizing that there were two of them, each from a different house. His heart froze midbeat. Without really knowing it he knew at once that it was about Hasan. Hadn't the same thing happened last year?

"Professor Snape!" Theo urged. "You have to come, quick!"

"It's Draco, professor. Draco, Neville, and Hasan! They're unconscious and—" Hermione began to shout hysterically. He noticed that her usually bushy hair was curled in soft waves, not exactly the typical bed head. In fact, what where Theo and Hermione doing out this early anyway?

"Where are they?" Snape demanded, growing pale. It was not only Hasan, but his own godson, and the supposed boy-who-lived. The three people who were to avoid trouble at all costs, and the three most likely to find it.

"They're outside the girl's bathroom, sir!" Hermione shouted, licking her lips nervously.

"Get Madame Pomfrey!" Snape said, fairly running to the rescue. Merlin, could he never get a break? Upon arriving, the most peculiar sight met him. Hasan Castell, Draco Malfoy, and Neville Longbottom lay haphazardly on the castle floor. In Neville's hand was a wand and...a book with a gaping hole that appeared to have been started from acid. Moving closer, he could just make out the title, "Tom Marvolo Riddle." he breathed.

Eerie. There was no other way to describe it. Neville's shirt had some clean rips through it, as though someone had sliced his robes with a cutting spell, and Draco's robes seemed soaked with blood, or some other dark substance. Gazing upon the third, he could not detect any abnormalities, which of course put Hasan under the most scrutiny. Why were they here? Why were they together? Had they fought? Against what? And how was a book of Voldemort's somehow involved?

Perhaps if he were not as tired he would have realized what the diary was right on the spot. But as it was, he was tired, and he had quite enough to be thinking about. Just as he reached out to pluck the book from Neville's limp grasp, the headmaster and Madame Pomfrey turned the corner.

"Oh dear!" Poppy lamented, clutching at her nightgown.

Severus snatched his hand back, but Albus had already seen.

"What is that, Severus?" Albus asked suspiciously, even as he summoned it.

"I'm sure I don't know." Snape sighed tiredly. "But it appears to have been destroyed."

"What happened?" Poppy gasped, completely oblivious to them. She conjured some stretchers and levitated each boy onto one. "What were they doing out here past curfew? And I believe two of them are from your own house, Severus."

"Two students from Gryffindor were also up and about." Snape reminded her shrewdly. Apart from being irked about house prejudices, he had no intention of telling Dumbledore of his previous whereabouts anytime soon.

Poppy clicked her tongue and bustled away, levitating the stretchers behind her. Severus was about to follow when Dumbledore shook his head.

"I think it is best to get the full story in the morning." he said. "I just can't believe how I keep failing. No, don't comfort me. I know I'm missing something, but I just can't see it. Perhaps we are all tired...I'll write to their parents in the morning. Good night, Severus."

The headmaster seemed tired, remorseful even. But there was a glint in his eye that caused Severus to doubt, and it did not go unnoticed when the headmaster slipped the book of Tom Marvolo Riddle into his cloak pocket. Voldemort, Severus remembered absently. The book belonged to Voldemort...

He didn't remember when he went back to bed, only that he knew he did, and that he woke for the second time that morning with pain running through his arm. He didn't need to glance down to see that his Dark Mark was bright red and looked like hell. Sure, he had known since last year that Voldemort was back, but the diary and now this? Severus groaned. Today was not his day.

But perhaps the thing most prominent thing in his mind, (if he had to choose), would be that Hasan Castell was Harry Bloody Potter.

Hasan Castell, the prodigal son of the idiot Altair, was the bloody savior of the Wizarding world, which was not even to mention the son of Lily Evans and that bastard James Potter! To be extremely honest, the emotion residing in Snape's heart was fear. How would he handle this situation? Who could he tell? What was he to do? And then of course, Harry Potter's disappearance smoothed over the resentment he had felt towards James Potter through some form of pity. So what Snape really feared when it came down to it, was NOT being able to hate Hasan Castell.

How funny he should fear something as trifle and nonsensical as not hating! Perhaps he was just horrified at the prospect of what Dumbledore would say or how Minerva would act. Why, they would probably have a heart attack and then have him carted off to St. Mungo's for mental instability. No thank you! Now that Voldemort was back, Potter resurfacing was a blessing. Hadn't the poor boy proven himself capable of eradicating the madman thrice already? Once as a baby, twice as a boy? If anything, Snape should be rejoicing, but now, as he stood here in the doorway, all he could think of was Fuck and Mercy.

For not only was Hasan Castell looking straight at him with his dead jade eyes despite his best efforts not to be noticed, but Lucius Malfoy and his son were awake and present as well.

How could he hope to speak of Altair with Hasan if the Malfoy Lord was present as well? Snape stiffened in his otherwise smooth stride, trying in vain to unlock his jaw, a rather bothersome habit. It appeared that the three had been conversing with one another, but about what? What interest did Lucius have in Hasan? If Lucius suspected any more about the boy...

"Ah, Severus," Lucius greeted heavily. "How are you, my friend?"

Ignoring those jade eyes the best he could, Snape replied, "Fine, Lucius. Fine as always," What a lie, "And you?"

"Fine, as well."

As they were talking, Hasan noticed something peculiar about the way Draco reacted. Draco almost appeared to be resentful of his godfather, an emotion that Hasan had never seen directed at Snape at least. He seemed to shrink back, twisting the sheets unconsciously between his fingers, as he gazed at the Potions Master. What had happened? Was it as Hasan expected? That Snape had asked Draco for his books and this had started it all-wait! If that were true then why was it that Snape didn't open the chamber? Unless, perhaps, Snape was only after his Lord of the Rings books and Draco took the diary for himself...but why would Snape want those books? His head started pounding. He was over thinking things...again. With a sigh, he returned his attention to the conversation at hand.

"Snape." Draco said coolly, causing his father to raise a slight eyebrow.

"Draco." Severus returned lightly. "Mr. Castell." He added, nodding in the boy's direction.

"Professor Snape." Hasan replied pleasantly enough.

"Well, now that introductions are out of the way, perhaps you could tell us what happened, Severus. Dumbledore's been no help in that regard."

"I would imagine." Severus sighed. "I know only how I found them. Maybe Draco or Mr. Castell would be so kind as to enlighten us about the rest?"

Eyes fell expectantly on Draco who only flushed and looked desperately at Hasan.

"I-I was possessed by the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord?" Snape repeated in surprise.

Draco nodded numbly. "I believed him when he said that there was something to show me. I- I let him!"

"Draco, the Dark Lord does not ask." Lucius swooped in comfortingly. "He takes and twists situations around so that you have to live with the guilt of his sins all your life."

Severus blinked, startled. Had Lucius turned coat?

"But I don't think you understand!" Draco protested feebly. "I said yes. He-" he gulped, "-We were writing..."

Snape paled. Was the Diary they found more than a mere artifact? Was it one of them- a horcrux? But it was found destroyed with a gaping, sizzling hole down the center, and if Draco had been lured by it before the incident then...someone in the chamber had had to have destroyed it. His black eyes flickered momentarily to Hasan who sat thoughtfully on the hospital bed.

"Draco," Hasan said quietly, "I said I forgave you." He didn't want Lucius to know that he had taken the diary in the first place.

"But I still did it and I'm- oh, gods, Hasan, I'm so sorry." Draco sighed.

"Perhaps you should take a Calming Draught. Severus?" Lucius asked.

Snape nodded, extracting a glass vial from his cloak.

"Drink this." he said, handing the boy the potion.

Draco looked dubiously at it as he uncorked the vial, before downing it in one go. Hasan bit his lip as the smell of another potion filled his nose but he couldn't dwell on this for long as Lucius doubled over in pain, grasping his arm with a hiss.

"Please excuse me." Lucius said hoarsely, but as he went to say goodbye to Draco, he noticed that the boy was out cold. He shot Severus an inscrutable look before fairly running out of the infirmary.

"That wasn't a Calming Draught." Hasan spoke suddenly. "Why?"

Severus looked him straight in the eyes, trying to picture James' face around it. He couldn't. "So that we could talk, come." Snape gestured towards the door and the two were off down the hall, arriving at an abandoned classroom in minutes. Snape cast privacy spells around the room before fixing Hasan with a very rigid stare. The man looked more tired than Hasan remembered and more than a little stressed.

"Tell me," Snape said lowly, "Are you wearing a glamour, Mr. Potter?"

"A...glamour?" Hasan repeated, feeling his entire soul constrict.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, a glamour. A disguise if you will." Severus whispered, taking a step forward.

"I don't know what you mean." Hasan denied shakily. His breath was coming out shallow and he swallowed. No! No! No! Luna knew, but who would believe her? But if Snape knew...if Snape knew then Dumbledore would know and then what? He'd be labelled as Dumbledore's golden boy and reeled in just like Neville. His façade would shatter. His life would shatter. Hasan Castell would die. "And why are you calling me Mr. Potter? I'm just Hasan!"

"I don't believe you!" Snape snarled and wrenched into the boy's mind with ferocity. Teachers were not to use Legilimency on students at all costs, but Potter was an exception. There was no room for doubt anymore, he had to know. He expected a simple answer. A word of true or false. What he was not expecting was to be smacked into a memory so utterly foreign that his own mind reeled from the impact.

A younger Altair Castell sat cross legged on a bed that Severus identified as Lucius'. The blond aristocrat was not far off, however, as he was standing in the chamber with a peculiar black book in his hands. It appeared to be handwritten, and the ink stains on their hands seemed to indicate that Altair and Lucius had written it. But what was it and why? For the life of him, Severus could not imagine anything the two had in common.

"You know we'll have to hide it." Lucius spoke evenly, breaking the silence. "We can place it in the Malfoy vault or disguise it here."

Altair shook his head. "No. I'll take it."

"You know he'll kill us both if he finds it." Lucius said again. He turned the book over in his hands.

Altair shrugged. "You know it's only a matter of time before he figures out I heard him."

The tension in the memory was so thick Severus even felt uneasy.

"I wish you hadn't."

"But I did. Look, Lucius." Altair sighed. "You don't need to go through this. You haven't done anything wrong. You come from an old pureblood family and you've got a chance to survive. Go marry that Black from school, have an heir, be free."

"Touching." Lucius sneered, "But what would life be without you? I'm coming with. We already have the locket, the diary, and know the location of the cup. All we need to do is publish this and destroy the items."

Altair nodded solemnly. "As soon as you publish it, your head will be wanted too. He'll want to know who's responsible for his drop in numbers. I can't allow that."

"Then how do you propose we take down the Dark Lord?"

"With both of us alive."

Altair turned slowly to face the blonde. His eyes were bloodshot and his wand was in his hands. It took Malfoy a minute to register the change.

"Wait, Altair! No-!" he said, stepping forward.

"Stupefy."

The blonde crumpled to the ground. The air was still. Altair got up slowly and kneeled beside him, taking the book from his nonexistent grasp and brushing back his blond hair in a tender sort of  way. He walked around the room, summoning his own possessions from various drawers, almost as if he lived there. After pocketing the locket, he took out a thin blue phial and his wand. Severus held his breath. The wand touched Lucius' temple, and pulling away, held a wispy memory. "Oh, Lucius. I hope you'll forgive me." Time passed. The phial filled. "It was the only way."

The memory ceased with Lucius being laid gently on the bed.

Severus found himself staring into dull green eyes. He blinked and found that his eyes were moist. He expected the boy to start screaming, protesting that he had unjustly ripped his way through his mind, but...nothing came. The boy was as pale as he.

"What was that?" Snape finally demanded, sinking onto the nearest desk.

"I don't know." the boy replied nervously. "I- Was that Mr. Malfoy?"

"A young one, yes."

"Then why did he tell me he never met another Castell?"

"Perhaps because you aren't a Castell, now are you, Harry?"

"It's Hasan." he said shortly. "And I don't think Mr. Malfoy was lying."

Snape sighed—he'd work the Potter thing out later. Right now, he had to know what the hell was going on.

"A simple memory charm—" Snape said impatiently with a wave of his hand.

"B-but, I thought it was only the Blo-" Hasan suddenly flushed, not wanting to mention the Black Blood Book. "I didn't think he had erased every single memory of himself." he murmured.

"When one is running from the Dark Lord, loose ends are best tied." Severus told him, (secretly impressed that Altair had thought as much.) But why should Harry Potter of all people have these memories...? That was the real mystery. "Have you ever remembered anything like that happening before?"

Hasan bit his lip and placed his hands behind his back, gripping another desk for support.

"Twice. Whenever I go near dementors I remember more of the...other memories. Are they real, professor? Am I just imagining these things? Do you think that the dagger transferred some memories over to me?"

Dagger? Snape thought. As in, the Malfoy dagger? He vaguely remembered something about it, and filed it away for later.

"Hasan, do you remember which form your patronus took?" Severus began slowly.

The boy gave him an odd look as if to say, what did this have to do with anything.

"A peacock," he answered slowly.

"And did you think that perhaps it didn't fit you?"

Hasan shrugged. This was too weird. "What are you trying to say?" he asked with an edge.

 "I think..." Severus took a calming breath, "I think that Lucius' memories are trapped inside your mind."

Hasan stopped breathing for a minute. His suspicions were confirmed then. He had been wondering all year, but now it was obvious. The Blood Book was the cause of all of this, he thought bitterly. It was all about Voldemort in the end, wasn't it? So then who was he? Was he Harry Potter? Savior of the Wizarding World? A child? A warrior? Altair's only son? Or maybe he was just a tool, a worthless vessel fit for EVERYONE to use. When had Altair done this to him? Why had Altair done this to him?

"What am I?" Hasan asked with suppressed rage. "Am I just a tool for you? You go tearing through my mind to solidify your place in the Light! Altair only adopted me to use as a glorified pensieve! Draco only became my friend to spy on me! And Dumbledore! Do you see how he treats Neville? Imagine once he learns of who I am! Neville isn't the same anymore! The attention is getting to his head and it's all Dumbledore's fault! But I suppose my life doesn't matter because as soon as Voldemort knows where I am, because we've already met, I don't even stand a chance! He'll just Avada me and all my problems will end like that!" Hasan's face was flushed, his chest was heaving, and sometime during his speech, he had gotten his wand and now gripped it tightly in front of him. Severus was scared—the boy was unpredictable, and worse, the boy made perfect sense. "All I want," Hasan cried. "Is to be me. I don't bloody want to be used anymore!"

"Hasan-!"

But before either of them could move, Hasan was writhing on the ground. Pain like scalding knives sliced Hasan's forehead open. He was bleeding.

Severus watched in horror as the boy shuddered and gasped from the effects of the cruciatus, but that wasn't possible! Unless...he watched the famous scar become outlined in blood, though the glamour-or whatever it was-held strong. Dumbledore was right. There was a stronger connection between Harry Potter and Voldemort that no one would understand.

He hadn't realized the full implications of Lucius' leave just prior, but now it made sense. The Dark Lord had returned and had enough strength to risk summoning Lucius, not to mention what he was doing to Hasan so many miles away. It was only a matter of time before Severus himself was Called...

As he stared down at the suffering body before him, all he could think of was how Lucius?

-VISION START-

Hasan's eyes were blazing. It was a shame that his eyes were also shut so no one could see them. But if they could, they would have seen molten emerald. His entire body shook, but whether it was from pain or power, he didn't know. These emotions...they were all too much. He tried to tell himself that they were just chemical reactions in his brain triggered by his nervous system, but somehow, he didn't find this answer as satisfactory as before. How could he logic away this pain? How could he ignore his anger?

"Lucius...You disappoint me." a deadly soft voice came from nearby.

"M-my Lord?"

"Crucio!"

Hasan was attacked by the knives again, but no scream came out, almost as if his body were mocking him. It was the scream of another that echoed around the room. Hasan cracked open an eyelid to see the Malfoy lord groveling on the floor, confusion and fear splayed clearly across his face. Beside him was his wife, but she was kneeling out of fear, and not from pain. Why were they here though? Hasan wondered.

"Perhaps you can tell me why you have not been overseeing your family vaults and why I have been robbed of a valuable artifact. Especially when your sister, Bellatrix, was dutifully serving me in Azkaban and unable to carry out the task I gave her."

He saw how Lucius hesitated to meet his wife's eyes, but he did so, risking the Dark Lord's wrath. There was a question there, but Narcissa shook her head minutely.

"You may answer too, Narcissa. After all, you are all equally responsible."

"I don't know, my Lord! Please forgive us!" Narcissa begged. Her face was tear stained, but her voice was strong.  Lucius seemed to draw from her confidence for he straightened his back in his kneel.

"That may be, but you should still be punished. That cup belonged to the House of Hufflepuff and now someone has stolen it! Right from under your nose." Voldemort hissed, and it was then that Hasan realized that the voice was coming from him! It was not from his mouth, rather, it was like being trapped inside something that's mouth moved without consent. The Malfoy's stiffened and bent their heads in resignation. "I should punish you." he continued. "I would not find pleasure in punishing my servants, but I do what I must to remind some of their places. Instead I am willing to move past this little incident."

If anything, the two tensed even more. The Dark Lord did not forgive. And the Dark Lord did not forget.

"What can we do for you, my Lord? We only wish to serve!" Lucius cried.

Hasan felt the lips the quirk up.

"As I have always thought, Lucius, Narcissa. Your entire family has always been very loyal to me. Let me not be proven wrong..."

Narcissa stilled and swallowed.

"How old is your son, Lucius?"

"T-twelve, my Lord."

"Going into his third year, is he not, Narcissa?"

"That is correct, my Lord."

There was silence for all of a minute. The Dark Lord ran his fingers up and down his phoenix wand, basking in the suspense.

"I have a task for young Draco." the Dark Lord murmured. "A very important task. If he is successful then we can forget all about this little...lapse in judgment. But should he fail...I will know if you are truly loyal."

"He is not of age yet, my Lord!" Narcissa pleaded. "Please, my Lord!"

"You dare to question me? After I have given you another chance? CRUCIO!"

-VISION END-

Pain. Pain. Pain. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. PAIN.

That was all Hasan knew before he was panting on the floor. He gulped in breath after breath of air, not knowing why he felt the need even after the constrictive feeling had passed. So many things were whirring in his mind...literally as well. If part of Lucius was in his mind, then perhaps...was part of Voldemort in there too? And what was this cup that Bellatrix Lestrange had in her vault? Perhaps it was...

A hand appeared in his line of vision, and he tentatively took it, his limbs shaking as the aftereffects of the Cruciatus.

"Drink this." Snape ordered, thrusting a vial in his face. "For the Cruciatus."

Hasan uncorked the vial and drank the bright re liquid, letting the warmth flood his body. It was almost as good as chocolate after a dementor...

"Are you alright?" Severus asked calmly when he had recovered his breath.

"I-Thank you for the potion." Hasan said.

"Your scar is bleeding." Severus pointed out before pointing his wand at it and muttering a quick healing spell. "Explain. What the hell was that?"

"It was another vision from Voldemort."

Snape winced. "Another?"

"I got one before, as a snake."

Of course he did. "What did you see?" Snape pressed.

Hasan froze. "Draco."

"Dr-!"

"His parents lost a cup from Bellatrix's vault and Draco's been given a task to punish them. I don't know what it is, but we can't let Draco go back there! Voldemort was torturing them. Draco can't handle that!"

"I will do my best to protect Draco, but you say that this is all about a cup?" Severus asked slowly.

Hasan bit his lip. If he was right in his guess and this cup was a indeed a bit of...soul, then how much could he tell his most trusted professor? But then, who else could he trust? Certainly not Altair...Dumbledore didn't even make the list. Narcissa, well, he barely knew her, and as it seemed, she was in frequent contact with the Dark Lord. But Snape, despite his flaws, and the mental attack, had watched over him from day one. Why couldn't he trust him?

"Is there a name for a soul vessel? I think Voldemort made some." he said presently.

Whatever Severus thought the boy was going to say came nowhere close to what he actually did.

"A-a soul...vessel?" Severus asked tersely, wondering if and how much Altair had told him.

"The Cup belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, and I think that Voldemort would have found other objects in which to place his soul. Actually, I know this for a fact. His diary told me. What I want to know is: Is there such a term?"

Severus was torn between saying yes and then yelling why on earth the boy insisted on involving himself, and denying it vehemently and coaxing the affirmation that he did in fact want to be a savior. Severus chose the former.

"It is a Horcrux, the darkest magic of all." Severus said seriously. "Did Altair tell you about them?"

Hasan's eyes flashed. "He knows?" he asked with wide innocent eyes.

"I-that is neither here nor there!" Snape snapped, though the boy knew the answer for what it was. "I think it would be best if you never mentioned it to anyone. Knowledge may get you killed...or kill someone in turn."

"But the dagger can destroy them!" Hasan protested excitedly. "The Malfoy dagger!"

"The dagger can only perform miracles when the holder is experiencing l-love." He did not know what made him say it. He couldn't even remember if it was true or not, but it sounded true to his own ears. Actually, he knew definitely that it was true. But then, when was Hasan ever in love? Severus decided not to dwell on this.

"But surely I can experience it again?" Hasan said hopefully.

"It must be unintentional." Snape stressed. "The dagger is tied to your magical core, your aura, and only the soul can access this. Your mind cannot, no matter how much you think you desire it."

A sudden image of the dagger came to Severus' mind. All emerald, silver hilt, and flashing blade. But where had he seen it before?

"My mind." Hasan repeated sullenly, remembering how messed up it was.

"Indeed."

"Is there a way to give the memories back? Or to protect against Voldemort? My mind feels like it's twisted in a knot." Hasan sighed.

"I was already thinking that we should start Occlumency, if you are not averse to it." Severus said.

"Mind protection?" Hasan said, knowing it from his lessons with Altair, even though the man had never deigned to teach him...probably to keep him from realizing how screwed up his mind was.

"Yes, beginning next year. It won't do to have our savior susceptible to the Dark Lord's torture sessions. Especially when he has them often." Snape added bitterly.

"Really? You'd teach me?" Hasan asked. "Even though...even though you don't like my father?"

Snape froze. How had the brat picked up on that? "Hasan, James and I never got along, but I certainly won't carry a grudge over from the dead, nor will I impose any lingering emotions on his child."

Hasan nodded. He had been worried about this too. "Thank you." he said, then yawned. "I...I haven't told you about the Chamber yet."

Snape watched the child's eyes droop, knowing that he must be exhausted.

"You can tell me next year. I might even see it." he said. "Now get some rest."

Never in a million years would he have imagined he would be carrying James Potter's son willingly in his arms, but now here he was. Wishing Hasan sweet dreams and a whole lot of luck.

.oOo.

Luna Lovegood stood outside the Hospital Wing with a bouquet of white lilies tied with blue ribbon. She wore a bright blue robe, which matched the ribbon (not the other way around), and had in a pocket of that robe a most interesting invisibility cloak...

Right before Neville had entered the chamber, Luna had discreetly taken Draco's wand from his robes which she later used to Confund Neville, then Stun Hasan. She didn't intend to harm either of them, but it would look too suspicious if Hasan wasn't with them, for none of his house mates could confirm his presence. Besides, Neville was practically immune in the eyes of the headmaster. Hasan surely wouldn't be under scrutiny as the main savior if he were seen aiding Neville. The main thing was to make sure the headmaster didn't suspect Hasan capable of such feats. Whether Hasan was an ally or out past curfew was of little consequence. 

Thus, it was a fool proof plan to stun the lot of them!

And so, that's just what Luna did: stunned them all and sealed the chamber after fifty attempts at hissing. Under the protection of Neville's invisibility cloak, she laid the boys down outside in the hall and waited with Myrtle for some passerby. Myrtle was admittedly not a good conversationalist. All she did was moan and say how attractive she thought the boys were. When she mentioned Hasan, Luna accidently flushed her down the toilet.

It was around four in the morning when laughter could be heard down the hall. Luna had poked her head out to see Theo and Hermione...snogging each other senseless. That was until Hermione looked towards her and let out a shriek.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Did I do something wrong?" Theo asked worriedly.

"L-look!"

Needless to say that the two weren't there for long. Snape came sometime later, with Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey not far beyond. What Luna thought a little odd was the diary of Tom Riddle. She had figured the anagram out—it wasn't hard. To her, the world was full of patterns. What was a simple anagram compared to the great Luna Lovegood? It was Voldemort's diary, but more than that, it held Voldemort's soul, or at least, it did.

Luna sniffed her flowers tentatively.

Some things were just fated to happen.

.oOo.

Severus came down the hall with Hasan draped across his arms.

"Miss Lovegood." he said tersely as he entered the hospital wing.

"Professor." Luna beamed. "You look like you would like a lily."

The professor laid Hasan gently on the bed before turning to face the girl.

"What on earth—"

But Luna had already taken a lily from the bunch and proffered it to the man. Her silver eyes blinked once, then twice, and seemed to dim.

"Oh."

The Inspiration had taken her again, and it took some quick deductions to figure out why the Potions Master held a flower—her flower, and why on earth he had received it.

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood." the man said tonelessly. He conjured a glass and placed the flower gently inside.

"Don't worry. He looks like a lily too!" Luna exclaimed happily, and dropped the entire bouquet into the glass with water. They left it on the table between Draco and Hasan. Severus frowned—was it possible that Miss Lovegood knew the truth of Hasan's birth? He had always thought her a bit mindless, but by now he knew that anyone who associated with Hasan could not be what they appeared.

Across the room, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, and Augusta Longbottom surrounded Neville's bed, completely ignoring Hasan and Draco who were just as injured, if not more, than their boy hero.

"How could this have happened, Dumbledore?" Augusta was sniffling. "I always knew that You-Know-Who would return, but to see Neville like this...oh!"

Suddenly a whole gang of Weasley's came bursting into the room with shouts and presents and tears.

"NEVILLE!" Ginny screamed. "NEVILLE!"

"Merlin, calm down, Gin!" Fred said.

"Yeah, Nev's going to be just fine!" George added.

Ron came trudging behind. He was concerned for his friend, but...goddamn it, why didn't Neville include him too? Everyone was singing praises to the Boy-Who-Lived, even Hasan and Draco's names were mentioned once or twice! What he wouldn't give to have a piece of the glory, just a fraction, a shrivel! He hated to admit it, but he was jealous, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Hermione and Theo came a bit later, holding hands unabashedly. It seemed that the image of three unconscious and semi-bloody boys caused them to seek physical comfort.

"Hey, mate." Theo said softly as he looked at Draco. "How are they?" he asked, turning to Snape.

"Recovering fairly well." Severus replied, raising an eyebrow at their clutched hands.

Hermione flushed and tried to pull her hand away, but Theo held her fast. He wasn't afraid of his head of house and he wasn't ashamed of dating a muggleborn either!

"Hasan, is he alright? He has some tremors going through his body!" Hermione shrieked in surprise.

Severus glanced down at the boy who did indeed seem to be trembling. The aftereffects of the cruciatus—but hadn't he already taken care of that? With a frown, Severus tipped Hasan's head up and poured some dreamless sleep down his throat so that he at least could sleep in peace.

"Oh, hello, Luna." Hermione said to the blonde. "I'm so sorry I didn't see you!"

The girl in question was sitting in the back, creating a flower chain with some of the lilies.

"It's alright, Hermione!" she said brightly. "Oh look! You found your own lily!"

Hermione laughed awkwardly when she didn't understand, but Theo nodded as if that word 'lily' had some sort of significance.

"Yeah, I do like Hermione." he said bluntly. "It's about time someone knew."

Luna just swung her feet back and forth under the chair as the other side of the room erupted in cheers.

"He's awake!"

"How're you feeling, Neville?"

"What the hell were you thinking going down there at night?" Augusta screamed.

"My poor Neville!" Ginny cried, and lunged to hug him.

"Yeah, poor Neville." Ron grumbled disappointedly.

Neville rubbed his eyes and then groaned. He had a migraine, a super migraine. It was like being hit in the head with a brick, and then slamming into the entire brick wall...

"Wh-What happened?" he asked, wetting his lips nervously.

"You defeated You-Know-Who, silly!" Ginny beamed.

"Well..." Dumbledore cleared his throat and glanced towards where Severus was standing. "We don't exactly know what happened. When Mr. Castell and Mr. Malfoy awaken we will be able to talk to them."

"But isn't it clear what happened?" Ron asked exasperatedly. Why did they have to drag it out? Wasn't it obvious? "Neville saved us all again!"

"Is that a touch of jealousy in our ickle Ronnikins?" Fred and George cooed.

Ron blushed a furious scarlet, but retreated none the less. Maybe he had overstepped one of those things called boundaries again.

"Any luck, Severus?" Dumbledore called, as if he couldn't bring himself to get up and cross the room.

"Perhaps if you were to attend to them you would know yourself." Severus returned bitterly. The headmaster's face darkened.

"Of course, you are right, Severus." The old man shook his head as if warding something off, and approached the small group with measured strides.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Luna piped up from the corner. "Where's your lily?"

"Pardon, Miss Lovegood?" Albus enquired good-naturedly, though he faltered in his step.

"Your lily!" Luna repeated.

"Er, I think Luna means your lover...?" Hermione hesitated to add but Luna shook her head.

"Just Love." Luna grinned, causing Snape to blanche. There was no doubt in his mind now that Luna knew- about him and about Hasan. "I don't see it. Are you hiding it somewhere?" She looked over the headmaster's head, then peered closely at his beard, not looking directly in his face.

"Luna!" Hermione hissed. "You don't say that—"

"It's quite alright Miss Granger. Miss Lovegood has every right to question why I do not divide my attention evenly."

Severus raised a supercilious eyebrow. Oh, so now the headmaster decided to be honest?

"And pray, what would that be?" Severus nearly growled. "Isn't House prejudice beneath us?"

Albus swallowed audibly. "It is not exactly about Hogwarts, my boy...I don't—" Suddenly his eyes went blank and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. Severus, you were saying?"

"I can't believe this." Severus snarled, missing the look. "You say you're trying but where's the proof?"

"Don't be too hard on him, professor!" Luna interjected. "I think it's all the Carbuncle's fault. Carbuncles are like that, you know. My father wrote an amazing article on them in the Quibbler. Carbuncles have a jewel on their forehead and anyone who wishes to obtain it will be blinded. Of course, if that person is content, the Carbuncle will drop the jewel without a fight, but really, it is all the Carbuncle's fault!"

More or less ignoring this statement, the entire room focused on the headmaster who was swaying tiredly.

"Severus?" Albus asked uncertainly. "I was trying to meet with Mr. Castell and Mr. Malfoy, wasn't I?"

A strange look crossed Severus' face. "I don't know." he said slowly.

"Perhaps you should take a nap, Albus." Madame Pomfrey suggested hurriedly. "It's been a long night."

The headmaster nodded sadly as his gaze swept around the room. Everyone was looking at him with concern, but why? It wasn't his old age...and he felt fine! So then why did he feel as if he were missing something? Something critical?

Before he left the room, he gave a saddened glance towards the Slytherins. Something about the Castell boy threw him off, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was...In fact, every time he tried to think of him, his thoughts swam away from him...

A/N- Oooh! What's wrong with Dumbledore?

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore strode swiftly into his office, his heavy blue robes swaying inside just as the door slammed shut. He pressed a wrinkled hand to his sweating forehead and sat heavily into his high-backed chair.

He had not been this upset in a very long time.

He should have known the signs. Hadn't he been suffering from memory recall since last year? Well, only when it concerned that child, that...that Slytherin child. Hasan Castell. Yes, he knew the name. Yes, he knew the face. But what else did he truly know? Was he a happy boy? An intelligent one? When had he become friends with Neville Longbottom? Yes, he knew the surface.

No, he knew nothing at all.

But despite what some people thought, Dumbledore was extremely intelligent. And it did not take half of his intelligence to figure out that he had been cursed. The question was, Why? Who would have Albus Dumbledore at their mercy and cast a simple memory spell? Obviously, there was more to the story.

He waved his hand, causing several sheets of papers to fly towards him with a perfectly dipped feather quill. He wrote down the name, then sat and stared at it for a long time. There was nothing else he could add. Severus thought he was purposely neglecting the Slytherin House, but truth be told, he paid very close attention to the house of Salazar. In some ways, too much attention. He had a file for every child, and it just so happened that the house of Salazar had a larger file cabinet, most likely because half of it was speculation and only a few basic facts were considered accurate.

Albus sighed, sent the paper away, and looked at Fawkes forlornly.

"What is happening? I just don't understand..."

Fawkes let out a trill and ruffled his feathers in a shrug.

"I've been placed under a memory spell or something like it." Albus wondered aloud. "Someone at some time before or during last year had been able to get close enough to me to cast the spell. I must have been sleeping, knocked out, or perhaps this memory is gone too. I can't remember Hasan Castell. I don't know anything about him. Maybe...?"

The headmaster looked at Fawkes questioningly before sighing. Phoenix tears, though powerful, could not heal this type of hurt. All he could do for the foreseeable future was dig just a bit more, and perhaps uncover a scrap of truth.

But even with all this uncomfortable uncertainty, something deep within Albus Dumbledore roared. It was almost as if part of him was expecting, even hoping that he himself would discover his own memory gap, and was now proud that he had figured it out for himself..."Merlin, help us all!" He was getting too old for this...

 A knock on the door woke Albus from his slumber. He hadn't even realized he had been sleeping.

"Come in." he called as Minerva McGonagall hurried into the office with Madame Pomfrey at her heels.

"Albus! What is going on?" Minerva asked breathlessly. "Are you suffering from memory loss? Do you need some potions? It's perfectly normal at this age—!"

"Minerva, I am fine." Albus lied, holding up a tired hand to silence her.

"No, you most certainly are not!" Poppy screamed. "You had us all worried! This isn't normal!"

"Poppy, Minerva, calm down!" Albus pleaded. He didn't need them to know how vulnerable he was. He needed to be the leader and not have people think someone else messed with his mind. That someone else could manipulate him. "It was a simple memory lapse. I will ask Severus to make me some potions later."

"Well." Minerva pursed her lips. "I'm glad you're alright because... I am VERY disappointed in you Albus Dumbledore! What were you thinking, letting Mr. Longbottom fight the Dark Lord for the second time? What was all that you said about not sacrificing children for the cause? First Mr. Potter, now Mr. Longbottom! Are you trying to see how long each child will last before they crack? I suppose you'll pick Ron Weasley next! Goodness knows he'd appreciate some recognition!"

"He's trying to best!" Poppy defended soothingly. "No one planned for You-Know-Who to show up at the school!"

"Oh, but isn't that why we had dementors? To protect against this sort of thing?" Minerva shrieked. "Look, Albus, I understand that you have to do what's best of all of us, but Neville needs more support."

"I agree." Albus said. "Which is why I have planned for the Weasleys, as well as Mr. Longbottom to stay at Grimmauld Place with Sirius and Remus. With Voldemort more powerful than previously thought, we can't afford to leave them at their family homes."

Albus Dumbledore did not know yet about the breakout.

"That's...very thoughtful of you." Poppy nodded. "Don’t you think so, Minerva?"

"The best thing would be not to involve them at all." Minerva said stiffly. "But wars do have a way of involving all of us...Well, I'm glad you're feeling alright, Albus." A touch of concern entered into her eyes, and a niggling feeling, some might identify as guilt, bubbled in Albus' heart...

Just as the two women left, a large grey owl swooped into the room. In its talons was a rolled up Daily Prophet.

Dumbledore gently undid the knot and unrolled the freshly printed paper.

"The Daily Prophet reports a mass breakout from Azkaban..."

The shadows lengthened.

.oOo.

The Dark Lord had left Lestrange Manor seconds ago, leaving Narcissa and her husband gasping on the floor. Not Draco! Not her Draco! Instead of feeling regret for what she did, for the sin she had committed, she felt now, more than ever, that that bastard had to go down.

"D-draco!" Lucius whispered hoarsely after several minutes. "We can't tell him we're switching. He doesn't have enough experience. The Dark Lord will be able to sense it and then he'll die for certain."

Narcissa's beautiful blonde hair fell over her face. "No. We can't tell him." She was condemning her son either way: Don't tell him, and leave him to think he was alone to carry out the Dark Lord's orders. Tell him, and have him die not long after. Her son was too young, too innocent—this was the only way. Draco, I'm so sorry.

"He will have to believe we are still loyal. And we'll have to support him." Lucius continued, feeling sick.

"He'll be so confused. He'll feel betrayed." Narcissa said, tears welling in her icy eyes. "My poor Draco..."

The husband and wife looked at each other for the first time since they were alone. Lucius did not have to ask about the missing cup. He could sense it. Narcissa had taken the cup, and by the Dark Lord's reaction, it was a pretty damn valuable cup too.

"I'm so proud of you." Lucius smiled pitifully. He didn't want to go into specifics. Not now... "And Draco. He's alright."

"And Hasan?" Narcissa couldn't help but ask.

Lucius licked his lips. "No different than before."

The two stood up gingerly, limbs still shaking from the cruciatus, and leaned heavily on one another. It had indeed been a while since their Lord had punished them and they hoped it would not happen again anytime soon.

As they regained control of their tremors, the door opened to reveal Bellatrix Lestrange, dressed cap-à-pied in a rich wine-plum color. Her hair was gorgeous after many washes, but her face remained gaunt and mercilessly sharp.

"Cissa! Lucius!" Bellatrix yelled happily. Contrary to popular belief, Bellatrix did actually care about her family.

" Bella!" Narcissa beamed, shoving down her guilt for stealing the cup. She welcomed the cadaverous woman with open arms, praying that the other did not feel how her heart sped up in panic. Even if Bellatrix cared about her, she knew that treason would not be tolerated. Why, Bellatrix would like nothing more than to rip Sirius Black limb from limb and throw him into a lake of Inferi. If she had a choice, Narcissa would like to avoid that treatment at all costs. "Oh, Bella. I missed you!" she lied sweetly.

"I missed you too! And Draco! He has had to grow up without his aunt!" Bellatrix lamented. "But I hear he has a task! What luck!"

Lucius coughed. "Please excuse me."

"He's a little tired, that's all." Narcissa said, envious of her husband that he could leave when she could not.

"No matter. Come, let's get out of this drafty room. I'll have the house-elves fix us some tea."

Narcissa followed the dark woman through Lestrange Manor till they came upon the salon. She hadn't been here in many years. The place was labyrinthine and cold.

"How are you feeling, really?" Narcissa asked. "I can't imagine the Dark Lord was too happy with you either. It was your vault."

A shadow crossed Bellatrix's face and she sighed. "No. But I can't bring myself to feel too ashamed because I've been freed. I'd rather not talk about it. How has Draco been? What have I missed?"

"Draco has grown up as handsome as Lucius." Narcissa said sincerely. "But he's much too young for this task. I don't even know what it is, but it's a punishment. I know it is, for our mistakes."

"Oh, Cissa! Don't worry! If the Dark Lord thinks Draco is ready, then he is! I have no doubt he is every bit as great as both of his parents!"

"I hope." Narcissa said uneasily. "He'll need every ounce of fortune he can get."

"If I had sons I would willingly give them up!"

"Why don't you? Have sons, I mean." Narcissa asked as tea suddenly popped onto the table. "Oh! That was...fast." She thought of Dobby suddenly and wondered where the little elf was if no mistress was in the picture...

"They're trained well." Bellatrix said nonchalantly. "But kids? I've been in Azkaban for most of Draco's childhood! I couldn't fully serve my master and raise my own kids!"

"Our parents hired nannies." Narcissa reminded her.

"Yes, and look how Andromeda turned out! It's a one in three chance! I can't take that chance!" Bellatrix sighed. "If I'm having a child, I'm raising him or her myself!"

"You're better than most people give you credit for." Narcissa sighed, sipping her tea.

"Like who? Dumbledore, the old fool?" Bellatrix laughed. "What else could he think after what I did to the Longbottoms! My life's work, if I do say so myself."

"They're still at St. Mungo's." Narcissa said quietly. "I don't know why they bother keeping them alive. Except perhaps for Neville Longbottom...he's the Boy-Who-Lived now."

"A simple farce." Bellatrix quipped. "The Dark Lord maintains that Harry Potter is the one to kill."

"What?" Narcissa nearly jumped. "Harry Potter's been training in the mountains!"

"If that were true, don't you think the Dark Lord would have killed him by now? No, the boy's been in hiding. The Light can't find him. He's missing."

"Oh Merlin..." Narcissa breathed. That was it. They were doomed! They were doomed!

"Yes, I know." Bellatrix said. "Hmm." She frowned down at her cup. "It appears my tea has run dry."

.oOo.

Grimmauld Place, ordinarily so drab and lifeless, was now full of vivacious young witches and wizards. Dumbledore had decided that it was in Neville's best interest to stay at Headquarters for the summer holidays, especially since there had been a mass breakout from Azkaban...The Weasleys were there, as they were known to be Dumbledore's top supporters, Neville's friends, and therefore, Voldemort's enemies. The Burrow was just too vulnerable and conspicuous, even with Bill's warding expertise. Hermione was there as well; being a muggleborn, she of all people needed solace.

Sirius and Lupin lived at the house full time. It was Sirius' ancestral home after all—not that he much liked it. They liked Dobby of course, although Sirius for the life of him couldn't remember if the elf was a new addition. Then again, it wasn't like he paid much attention to the goings on of the house when he was a child, him running away to the Potter's and all. But he remembered Kreacher-the damnable creature! Hermione kept trying to draw the poor elf out and knit him a sweater (despite it being 90 degrees outside), but he always refused and disappeared to Merlin knew where...

It was midday and the sun was shining through the weathered windows and into the dusty air. Fred and George had gone upstairs to explore, while Hermione attempted to teach Ron Fur Elise on an old piano they'd found in the living room. Lupin and Sirius were out and about, doing some shopping here and there, which inevitably left Neville and Ginny alone.

"Ginny?" Neville asked quietly, setting aside his plate. "Why is it that you like me?"

"Why wouldn't I, silly?" Ginny laughed, swinging her legs under the chair in the dining room. "You save people. You're my hero! We both know what it was like when You-Know-Who was terrorizing the world—at least, our parents told us. Now, because of you, we have a chance to defeat him."

"But I can't-!" Neville protested, squiring in his seat.

"But you already have!" Ginny protested, growing a bit frustrated. Why was he fighting her on this?

"Well, what if it wasn't me who saved the world? What if it was Harry Potter?"

"Don't be silly, Neville!" Ginny repeated with a little laugh, thinking he was pulling her leg. "The prophecy referred to you!"

"No! The prophecy referred to a boy born at the end of July!"

"Yes! You!" Ginny insisted. "What are you trying to achieve here, Neville?" Her legs stopped swinging. "Look, I'm attracted to you...you're brave and smart and, and...handsome. Defeating You-Know-Who is only secondary to that."

"But-" Neville said looking guilty.

"No but's! Neville, I know it's hard, but I know you'll defeat him in the end. Just listen to me: I understand."

Her beautiful brown eyes locked with his and his heart began to spiral. But she didn't understand. He didn't either really. Every time he had 'defeated' the Dark Lord, his friends were by his side, and then he would wake up in the infirmary with no recollection whatsoever. Perhaps the only thing that bothered him was the invisibility cloak. He had taken it down to the chamber but no one had mentioned it since...and yet, all Neville could think was good riddance! It was never his at all and some of the guilt stripped away.

.oOo.

Meanwhile in the living room, Hermione watched as Ron struggled to make sense of all the music notes on the page.

"This is an A, right?" Ron asked, squinting at the yellowed parchment.

Hermione nodded. "Good! Now do you know where it is on the keyboard?"

Ron swallowed. All the keys looked the same! Granted they were black and white, but honestly! How could anyone learn to navigate on this thing? Let alone play it!

"Er...Er...I can't find it." Ron said helplessly as he stared down at the identical keys. He waited, staring at the music, and wondering.

He waited.

Hey, wasn't this about the time that the girl was supposed to come up behind him and rest her chin on his shoulder and move her hands on top of his and place them gently on the keys? (Not that he was cheating on Lavender, no...he just liked attention no matter who gave it to him.)

He waited some more.

Finally, Ron turned around to find Hermione perfectly content, curled up on the couch with a poetry book. She seemed to sense his glance and looked innocently up at him.

"Oh. You know the three black keys? The white one in between that's on the right."

She immediately turned her attention back to the book. Apparently it was much more engrossing than him.

Ron turned back around.

Black, white, black, white, black, white...

Summer sucked.

.oOo.

Hasan was home at last, but the Estate seemed distant and more impersonal than before. How could he feel the way he had when he knew what Altair did? He was a nothing more than a pensieve. And this—this fantasy of being taken away from the orphanage and given a home- a family, well, he knew it for what it was. The Castell Estate was not a home. It was a velvet box with a satin cushion, a pretty prison to keep the memories safe. He was just a body.

No wonder Altair had taught him to defend himself—it was all to defend his mind. And as for the mind itself, it was obvious now that Altair never taught him Occlumency because then he would have been aware of the added presence. He was no more a son than he was a boy. He was a tool. No one would ever love him.

But that wasn't true! he told himself. Luna loved him. She had understood before anyone else, and had not hated him for any of the innumerable mistakes he had made. Perhaps it was time he told her about the diadem? He hadn't before, but now...now that he knew it was a horcrux...it was best to tell her. Who else could he tell? By Severus' reaction, it seemed that Altair knew about them. For how long? Perhaps this was why he had to feign death, because the Dark Lord realized he knew. The Black Blood Book wasn't the real reason...the Dark Lord didn't even know about it because it had never been published.

Which meant that Altair had tried to get Hasan off his tracks.

It meant that Altair knew the Blood Book would serve as an adequate reason, while the true reason, the horcruxes would not be disturbed. Hasan wouldn't be able to pry if the case was closed. Hasan wasn't sure how to feel about this betrayal.

And then there were the visions...more than visions. He had been the snake. He had been Voldemort. Was this why Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived? Because he could spy on the Dark Lord for a little price of pain?

Hasan shut his eyes, ran his nimble fingers down his auburn hair. So why, with everything he knew, did he want to return to Harry? Just Harry with black hair and emerald eyes...

:How are you, little one?: Tina hissed, winding around the back of the chair as a pretty blue snake.

:Confused. Unsure.: Hasan admitted. :Did you know Altair knew about horcruxes?:

:Horcruxesss? What are they?: Tina enquired. :Your father hassss never sspoken of them.:

:They are soul fragments locked in a container.: Hasan said. :Similar to how Lucius' memories are locked within me.: He shuddered and glanced towards the door that stood slightly ajar so that he could see if Altair was approaching.

:You have another'sss memoriesss? What a sstrange art you humansss practice. It iss sstrange becaussse you cannot experience the memory. You mussst watch it play out asss a witnesss.:

Hasan swallowed. As a witness. Yes, this described Lucius' memories, but not Voldemort's.

:And what if I experience the memory as it happens?: Hasan queried softly.

Tina flicked her forked tongue out to taste the air. She was orange.

:Then it isss not a memory, Hasssan.:

Hasan knew this, and yet his veins turned to ice. Not a memory. He knew this. So why was it suddenly so ominous?

"Hasan?" Altair called for the sitting room. "Hasan, where are you? Can I speak with you for a minute?"

Hasan exchanged glances with Tina.

:Good luck, little one.:

.oOo.

Hasan arrived in the sitting room with some trepidation. He saw his...father sitting stiffly in a large squishy armchair with an air of sadness. Hasan tensed. Was his father sad because he would regret what he was about to do? Were Hasan's memories to be obliviated right now? Today? As it had happened how many times before?

"Sit."

Hasan sat on the long couch, body turned slightly towards his father.

"What is it?" Hasan asked tonelessly, biting his lip.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Altair turned towards him, brown eyes darkened by some unknown emotion.

"I don't know what you—" Hasan tried, making a fist at his side. His wand was in his pocket, but Altair's wand was on the arm of the chair...

"Have I done something to you?" Altair blurted with wide, desperate eyes.

"Pardon?" Hasan asked. What?

"You've been avoiding me all summer." Altair continued as if bruised. "Have I harmed you in any way?"

Memories were not harmful, but the emotional pain...oh, sod it all! He had enough of his logic! Altair couldn't find out. Self-preservation above all!

"No, I didn't mean to—" Hasan blushed. He had been worried for nothing.

"Please, Hasan. Don't lie to me. I know you're an Animagus!"

Wait, what? Hasan froze, mind whirring blankly. Did he just-? What-? Whatever he thought Altair was about to say was decidedly not this. He nearly sighed out with relief.

"When?" Hasan asked.

"Your aura. I noticed it last year, it has some red flecks in it."

"So you knew what I had done?"

"No, but I guessed." Altair admitted. "And Severus—"

"Severus told you?" Hasan asked aghast.

Altair laughed suddenly. "No, no he didn't. I just wanted to confirm that you got the potion from a viable source. Goodness knows the side effects of weird potions!"

Yeah, like you, Hasan thought.

"I'm sorry I haven't told you." Hasan said in what he hoped was a sincere voice. "But it's not exactly legal and I didn't want you to be angry at me for putting us at risk."

"Hasan, Hasan, Hasan...This is wonderful! It gives you more defense, more skills to work with!"

Defense...Just when Hasan was about to like the man again, he had to go and bring that up. That was all he was: protection for the memories...

"I'm glad you approve." Hasan said carefully. "May I be excused? I have to complete my Transfiguration homework."

"Of course, of course!" Altair waved him off, very much happy, and very much relieved himself. As Hasan walked away, Altair leaned back and sighed.

Yes, there had been red flecks in his son's aura, always. At first he never mentioned it, thinking them to be Lucius' memories, but then...Lucius was silver. He couldn't imagine what the flecks could mean, until he happened to see some scratch marks on the wood floors, and a paw print, forgotten, by the back door. It wasn't hard to put that and Hasan's frequent disappearances together- Hasan was an animagus...but something nagged at the back of his mind. He had seen red flecks before.

On the ring, the locket, the cup, and an unknown object in Hasan's bag...perhaps Hasan's flecks were only black? A deep orange perhaps? Too small, and therefore the color indistinguishable?

He pushed the idea out of his mind. In all honesty, he suspected that the memories he had implanted had affected the boy's aura, and this guilt made him shut out the idea. Altair sat there, staring at the white ceiling, and wondering when Severus would arrive with the potions.

.oOo.

Draco kept to himself mostly.

He would lock himself in his room and only come out to go to the loo or to grab something to eat from the kitchen. (Apparently Dobby had disappeared and all the other house-elves weren't too keen on volunteering.) And anyway, he didn't want a house-elf in his room. He knew the thing would spy on him and report back to his mother and father, who were quite frankly, worried sick about him.

How could he have stolen the diary? He lay on his back, eyes glossed over as his stared at the dark brown ceiling. The diary of Tom Riddle had been Voldemort's.  He had been writing to Voldemort all this time...he felt the bile rise in this throat. The man his parents worshipped was a monster. A madman. And He had been inside of him.

Why had his father been entrusted with Voldemort's diary? How had Hasan gotten it? And why hadn't Hasan been possessed like he had?

Because Draco was weak.

Draco could not have hated himself more than right now. He remembered the events of his first year quite clearly. Quirrell had tried to steal the stone, no one the wiser that Quirrell was really Voldemort, or partly at least. Last year, his concern was mainly with Hasan, and though he was loath to admit it, Neville Longbottom. He had been so young last year...he had never fully connected the blood-drinking monster with the glorious Dark Lord...but now? How could he even think of serving the man that tried to suck out his life force? He had trusted Tom Riddle, and nearly died! How could that vile creature, that cunning diary, and the Dark Lord he had been raised to worship possibly be the same?

His head was pounding, vision spinning as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Draco? Dragon, dear?" Narcissa pleaded forlornly at the door. "It's been a week and..." She faltered. No one wanted this, but she couldn't hold Him off any longer. It would look suspicious and Draco would have no chance. No. This had to happen. She took a deep breath. "The Dark Lord will be coming in ten minutes."

Draco had expected the usual, come eat something, come watch a movie, come play chess, NOT the man who tried to kill you will be coming for a little visit! Draco shot off the bed, heart racing wildly, and blood draining from his head so that his vision was dotted in blackness and stars.

He stayed in that upright position, waiting for his vision to return to normal, his breath to even out. He was a Slytherin, he reminded himself. He would have to be calm and in control because anything less would be seen as weakness.

"Pardon?" he asked, wondering what Hasan would do in his position.

"Please Dragon..." don't make me say it again, Narcissa finished in her head. "Come out."

Draco bit his lip and smoothed down his flat hair. Ten minutes. That's all he had. Surely he wouldn't be killed over indirect treachery? It wasn't like he had actively worked to destroy the diary anyway...Still, he didn't want to die, and he didn't have enough time to master Occlumency...but he could try to clear his mind at least. That's what Uncle Sev always told him. Think! Clear your mind! White! White! No, maybe black? Think! Clear your mind!

"Dragon, honey?" a note of hysteria touched Narcissa's voice. She couldn't go through with this. It was all too much. Any longer and she would flee, taking Draco with her to one of her homes in France...

The door cracked open. Draco peered out, silver eyes dulled and determined. Narcissa swallowed uncomfortably, her tears and puffy eyes hidden beneath her glamour so that she looked the epitome of happiness.

"I'm alright. Thank you, mother." Draco said tonelessly. "Ten minutes you say?"

His mother nodded. "Draco?"

He looked at her, wondering why her voice seemed to falter despite her charming smile.

"Draco, I just want to warn you. I-I've not had the chance to bring you up to date seeing as we've wanted you to re-recover...but your Aunt and Uncle are back."

"My Aunt...Andromeda?"

"No, Draco. Your Aunt Bella...There was an Azkaban breakout." There was an odd metallic quality about her voice, but he couldn't pinpoint it. Did she resent her sister? Was that possible? He had always heard stories of how they had pranked Andromeda growing up. They had been best friends...but then, he had also heard stories of an older, more twisted Bellatrix. The type of Bellatrix who tortured Neville's parents into insanity. "-and I better tell you this too. The Dark Lord is in a sort of...transitional state. He doesn't look the way we remember him because of some magical experiments."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at her, his heart, making another revolution around a knotted trap. Something didn't fit. How could his mother be so cheerful when this was the same man who had tried to kill him before? He had thought that he was his mother's world, even more important than the Dark Lord. Had he been wrong? Was this another fanciful idea he had dreamed up as a child?

"Magical...experiments?" Draco echoed, wondering what it entailed.

"Yes." His mother fidgeted with her black robes. "It's best not to question it. Here." She proffered a bundled black cloak and waited for him to throw it over his shoulders. As he went to do the fastenings, she stepped forward and began to do it for him. Her hands shook, and Draco frowned.

.oOo.

Lucius paced the main room like a caged animal, hands twitching behind his back. The Dark Lord would arrive in less than a minute, and if the gods were ever merciful, Bellatrix would not be with him. The entire situation was so screwed up and twisted! Last week it had been simple enough to say they would carry out the plan, but now, Lucius was beginning to realize that there was never a good time to start. Draco had been possessed not more than a week ago! How would he feel? Betrayed? Upset? Perhaps he'd just commit suicide like Altair Castell supposedly had...

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Lucius released an audible sigh of relief as Draco and Narcissa entered the room. He studied his son, worry etched on every line of his face. Draco was wearing black, probably on Narcissa's recommendation, had his pale blond hair pulled back neatly, but not tied, and wore the dullest expression Lucius had ever seen. It eerily reminded him of Hasan, and perhaps that was who Draco was attempting to emulate now. Well, whatever worked best, because Draco was going to need all the help he could get.

"Don't be nervous." Narcissa soothed. "Just follow our lead and be respectful."

Respectful was right, but perhaps groveling was a better definition.

Just as the wards sent a tingle of magic through Lucius and Narcissa, the door on the other end of the room slid open...

A crackling of magical energy permeated the air, rubbing against Draco's cells in a way he didn't like. The Dark Lord entered with long strides, black robes swirling around his feet like an ominous fog. Draco's eyes trailed upwards, nearly shuddering at the harsh contrast between the handsome Tom Riddle and this...repulsive monster. The creature was barely four feet high with stretched papery skin and no nose whatsoever. Admittedly, the Dark Lord did look better than he had last week due to a potion Severus was brewing him, but for Draco, the contrast was startling.

Then something odd began to happen. A large green snake slithered from under the Dark Lord's cloak, heading straight for him. His mind's eye flashed the picture of the Basilisk, but this was just an ordinary little snake...nothing to worry about, right?

"My Lord!" Narcissa and Lucius exclaimed simultaneously, falling to their knees, black robes pooling around them. Draco hurried to imitate them, falling-albeit less gracefully-to the floor where his knees scraped the stone.

"My Lord!" he whispered, the sound steady but weak in the large room. The sound poisonous on his tongue.

The Dark Lord chuckled, stopping about a foot away from the kneeling family.

"You may rise, young Draco. You are not yet mine."

Narcissa stifled a gasp, eyes squeezing shut in horror. Not her Draco! Not her Draco! He could not mean to mark him now!

"But he wishes to be, my Lord!" Lucius interjected beseechingly from his position on the ground.

"Did I ask for you to speak, Lucius?" Voldemort snapped, whipping out his wand. The cruciatus was on the tip of his tongue, but he needed to speak to Draco first. Even he knew a thing or two about not attacking parents to gain willing cooperation, the key word here being willing. Draco got up slowly, trying his best to disguise his shaking, both arms clamped firmly to his sides.

"I wish to be yours, my Lord." Draco said quickly, hoping to save his father from blunder. His eyes were fixed on the floor and his limbs began to ache.

"Ah, but you have not yet proven yourself." Voldemort said softly. "This is why I have come today. I have a very special task for you, Draco. One that will please me very much."

The way the Dark Lord wrapped his tongue around the syllables, Draco was sure they both knew he didn't have any intention on pleasing, no more than staying alive.

"What is it, my Lord? How may I best serve you?" Draco pleaded, hoping he was laying it on thick. It was a bit like ice skating, better thick than thin...

The Dark Lord's magic rumbled in pleasure at the sound of another willing servant, but Draco's attention was partially captured by the giant green snake slithering closer and closer. Unlike the frail looking Dark Lord, the snake left nothing disguised. It had clearly powerful jaws, shining white fangs with venom dripping from the ends, and a heavy tail that thumped against the floor...Draco couldn't help the tremors running through him. It was too reminiscent of the Chamber. The cold stone floor, the snake...Voldemort.

"For now, I only wish to satisfy my curiosity." Voldemort said carefully, watching as Nagini began to circle the boy like prey. "My understanding is that you are very close to this...particular person."

Draco swallowed, keeping his eyes lowered. Person? What person? Blank! Think nothing! White! Black! Monochrome! But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts wandered towards the stone, towards the chamber, towards Neville. Of course the Dark Lord wanted to learn more about the Boy-Who-Lived...but how could Draco bring himself to betray the one person who saved him time and time again?

"Neville Longbottom, my Lord?" he asked shakily, knees beginning to grow weak.

He was met by deafening silence.

Lucius sucked in his breath, Narcissa shook, her limbs already numb. He had spoken out of turn and even insinuated he knew the Dark Lord's motives. Two very dangerous things indeed. Suddenly, laughter filled the main room, a cold maniacal cackle that sounded of ringing chains.

"Longbottom? The Boy-Who-Lived?" the Dark Lord cried hysterically. "You seem to forget I taught him! No- the person I want is much more...competent."

Draco's blood ran cold. If not Neville then who was he to spy on? There was only one other person that had met the Dark Lord before. One person whom he was close to. Just one. He knew the name before it entered into existence, into the still air of Malfoy Manor.

"Hasan Castell."

Narcissa and Lucius automatically tensed, neither knowing what the other knew, but both knowing that this was probably the one person Draco would hesitate over. Did Fate hate them? Had one of them killed Merlin in a past life?

"You want me to spy on him, my Lord?" Draco squeaked, nearly quaking with fear.

"For now." Voldemort said, eyes blazing red. "I want you to learn his secrets. His friends. His family. The places he goes. The people he sees. I need you to tell me his weaknesses. In other words, everything."

Draco set his resolve.

"I will not disappoint, my Lord."                                    

"I'm sure of it." Voldemort leered, but he wasn't looking at Draco, no, he was looking straight into Lucius' eyes, and then at Narcissa. "Because unlike at Hogwarts, Failure here is not tolerated."

Chapter Text

Draco was back in his room, contemplating his sudden doom. When he had first met Hasan it was for no other purpose than to spy on him, and yet he still had not figured out anything remotely remarkable about the boy. He was smart and more than a little socially awkward but overall, what could he possibly feed the Dark Lord that wouldn't result in his head being Avada'd off?

At this point, it was either him or Hasan, and friendships, especially shaky ones, only went so far. At least, this is what he was trying to convince himself. He sat at his black desk and turned over the invitation to Neville's birthday party. It was Gryffindor red with gold trimming, and the party was set for the last week of July at the Burrow- wherever that was. For a servant of the Dark Lord, he really knew how to spend his time.

Suddenly, there was a sharp tap at his window. Draco tensed before whipping around, only to realize it was Zephyrus, the owl he had left his at Hogwarts. Apparently he was smart enough to find his way back home.

"Hey Zeph." Draco said quietly as he unlatched the glass window. The little white owl hooted once, its large eyes blinking up at him. "I'm sorry. In all honesty I think I forgot...you."

Zephyrus puffed his feathers out indignantly, before flying onto his usual black perch. Draco smiled softly. "Fine." Grabbing some owl treats from his drawer, he walked over to the pouting bird and offered the treat. Zephyrus snapped it up in one go.

"There, now do you forgive me?" Draco asked, running his knuckles gently over his head feathers. Zeph chirped. "Good, I've got enough going on without my owl hating me. I don't suppose you want to listen to me rant?...Alright, I'll take that as a no, but I'll do it anyway."

He sighed and sat on his bed. "I guess it's not a big deal. It's a simple choice really. Do I want to die? Or can I risk letting Hasan suffer...Well, it's not as if Hasan warned me about the diary...then again, I did take it...but what was he doing with it anyway? It was here. It was at my house. It's unfathomable, Zeph. Can't you understand? Right, doesn't matter. It's life and death now."

Draco sighed deeply before looking back at his owl. But Zeph was gone.

.oOo.

Narcissa was downstairs, setting the oven to work with a flick of her wand, the closest to the muggle way she would ever get.

"What time?" Narcissa called, stirring the pasta around with a spoon. She could almost pretend she was making a potion, which was magical enough.

"Near eleven." Lucius called tiredly from the sitting room, glass of wine in hand. Today had been too bloody stressful. It was time to unwind a bit.

"And he can be trusted?" Narcissa asked again, trying her best to keep her voice steady and unbiased.

Lucius inclined his head. "Trusted? Oh no. As far as loyalties go, he must be the least trustworthy of us all. But for this, we hardly have a choice."

There was a pause as Narcissa checked the mushrooms.

"You said Dumbledore trusts him." she said quietly.

"So does the Dark Lord." Lucius countered with another gulp of alcohol. "Still, there's no one else we can turn to. And he won't betray us."

"I think he's to be trusted then." Narcissa said, though she couldn't help but feel there was something missing when it came to Severus Snape. Something very strange and very distant.

"If you say so."

.oOo.

It was five hours after dinner when the wards first signaled the new arrival. Narcissa had checked that Draco was asleep by drugging him more or less by spiking his tea with dreamless sleep potion, and has promptly locked his door. Merlin knew they couldn't deal with an episode of sleepwalking tonight.

Narcissa did a last-minute check over the entire sitting room, making sure that pillows were fluffed, table straightened, roses sticking up at symmetrical angles. She gave a satisfied nod of approval and turned to Lucius.

"I'll fetch the tea." Narcissa murmured, taking in her husband's darkened eyes and rigid posture. The Malfoy lord inclined his head slightly, wondering if perhaps he shouldn't have taken that sobering potion.

The night sky had long since turned dark, lit only by the most brilliant stars. There were clouds too, but the moon was left clear to shed its light on the most ominous of trees, casting shadows of seemingly grabbing hands...

Severus had been busy to say the least the last couple of days. The werewolf needed Wolfsbane every month and this week was no exception. The Dark Lord also had him restocking his supplies, even after all the time spent trying to develop a potion that returned the Dark Lord back to normal (as if). Clearly this wasn't even possible without the right ingredients, but what he had brewed was acceptable for now. Severus also had his plate full with researching the very few ways in which memory pockets could be dislodged harmlessly from the host mind. Not to mention Dumbledore's plans for the next order meeting. Apparently Albus had a surprise that he refused to tell anyone, because of course, that could ruin the surprise. Sometimes Severus wondered why he even bothered to play on the tightrope.

The main double doors of Malfoy Manor parted slightly, revealing a slightly thin silhouette of Malfoy senior. Even from a distance, Snape could see the obvious burden on the man's shoulders. Lucius' posture was unrelaxed, yet tired, not graceful in the least.

"Welcome Severus." Lucius greeted with a strained smile. "It's been a while since you've been here."

Severus didn't return the smile; he never did, instead opting for a somewhat puzzled expression on his usually stony face.

"So it has."

Lucius opened the door wider to let Severus pass, not bothering to go through the pleasantries of handshaking. They both knew it would be pointless.

"Your home looks lovely as always, Narcissa." Severus said as Narcissa set the ornate tea tray on the table.

"Oh thank you, Severus." Narcissa smiled gently. "We had to prepare for one than one special guest within the last few days."

Severus raised a supercilious eyebrow. "Indeed." So the Dark Lord had been here, to Malfoy manor, despite his forces being centered at Lestrange's house. Bellatrix had jumped at the chance to host headquarters, of course, and no one was fool to fight her for it. So for the Dark Lord to visit..."What about may I enquire?"

Narcissa sent her husband an uneasy look before settling down in the chair opposite the fireplace.

"Please, sit." Lucius offered lamely, pointing to the chair left of Narcissa's, as he took the one on the right. Snape did so, trepidation boiling in his stomach. If this was what he thought it was, if Hasan's vision was truly right...

Lucius cleared his throat to speak. "It's about Draco."

"The events at the school I could have hardly prevented, I can assure you." Snape quipped.

"No, no, it’s not that." Narcissa said quickly, "And thank you for looking after Draco, even if there was nothing you could do. What we're trying to say is that we need your help...again."

"And what would you need my help for? If Draco has been given a task (Narcissa gasped) then I cannot do it for him!"

"Y-you know about it?" the witch gaped incredulously, just as her husband roared: "Don't play coy, Severus! It doesn't suit you!" The couple looked at each other before looking accusingly at the Potions Master. Snape simply shrugged and reached gracefully for his tea.

"The Dark Lord has told me of his plan because Draco is being carefully watched. If he so much as steps one toe out of line, he will be cut." Snape said harshly. Then with a cock of his head, he turned to Lucius. "Coy, Lucius? I'm not attempting to trick you. I cannot interfere and I will not interfere."

"But you're a spy for the Light." Narcissa blurted with an unmistakable tone of hope. "Dumbledore said so."

And then it clicked, they had turned coat...

"And I'm a spy for the Dark. The Dark Lord said so." said Snape sourly. "But I have the impression it's not my loyalties that need to be questioned here, is it? What I want to know is When. When is it that you switched sides."

There was no definite answer to When. Lucius had started corresponding with the lunatic named Altair roughly a year ago, and his emotions had been borderline all throughout that time period. Narcissa had never wanted to receive the Dark Mark and had always cared for Draco, but when had that changed into loyalty towards the Light?

"Recently." Lucius replied shortly. "I've already talked to Dumbledore about an arrangement. Our support for our protection."

That fool! Severus thought. How could Dumbledore hope to win if he flings amnesty at every Death Eater, virtually for free?

"If you have Dumbledore's support, why on earth do you need me?" Severus remarked astutely. "Unless of course, you're not planning on fleeing the country, which means you're going to play the game. But Draco can't play, can he? That's why I'm here."

Lucius nodded. "He can't know...He can't...the Dark Lord would rip him to shreds." His voice had gone hoarse, cracked.

"An ambitious plan." Severus sighed, letting his mask fall for the first time since arriving. "I can only hope to guide Draco in whatever he chooses to do. No, listen to me!" he said as Narcissa attempted to interrupt. "If Draco supports the Dark Lord, he will view you as traitors for supporting the Light. He needs someone with unbiased reason to be on his side. Otherwise we have lost him! If he does turn around, if he does learn the truth and everything is as your plan entails, he will need someone who has never tried to persuade him either way to draw him back to his parents!"

"So you will be our line? Our one connection to our son?" Narcissa asked, lips quivering. "That's what we're doing, isn't it? We're casting him out to fend on his own and hope we can reel him back in when the storm is gone." She released a stressed moan before getting up. "I'd better get the whiskey."

Lucius looked at his wife in concern, knowing it was hardest on her as Draco's mother.

"It's the only thing we can do." Lucius said. "We're too deep in. We can't just flee."

"Dumbledore can help."

"Dumbledore is human, Severus! Dumbledore's followers are human! They make mistakes! Most of them want your corpse rotting in Azkaban! How can we rely solely on him to relocate us with absolutely no backlash from both sides? And that's assuming I don't already go mad from the Dark Mark!"

Almost unconsciously, Snape shook his left arm but disguised it as a full-bodied shudder. Enduring the pain of the Morsmorde was enough for one minute, let alone for all eternity until death.

"You can win them over. You have money. The Order needs funds." Severus said confidently.

"Like you have so successfully charmed them?" Lucius sneered. "Black's as rich as we are, and I hardly think tossing around a few galleons will earn us more than a few snide comments. Though we’ll be damned trying," he added bitterly.

"Dumbledore has more influence than you think." Severus said again. "It is a testament to him that my corpse is not indeed rotting in Azkaban. The others will be difficult, I admit. But surely it won't be so difficult for the great Lucius Malfoy to charm his way into any social circle."

"Some circle!" Lucius cried, trapped between laughing and crying. "Severus, I'm being absolutely serious! There's no way we can do this! I was a fool to ask, but I have and now we are. We're condemning Draco's childhood, but maybe not his future. But we need the support of the Order to save that and nothing's more stubborn than a Gryffindor!"

"I concur with you there." Severus said tiredly. They were running in circles and Severus was never one to coddle or raise others' self-esteem. He pinched the bridge of his nose and thought, wondering when Narcissa would ever come back with the whiskey. Perhaps there was something else the Malfoys could use, if not words. Most of the Order wouldn't believe a word they said anyway, but actions...Gryffindor's respected them quite a bit more than they should...

"Can you cast a patronus?"

The idea was so completely random that Lucius nearly gaped at him.

"A...patronus?" Lucius echoed blankly.

"Yes, a patronus." Severus confirmed.

"How the bloody hell is that going to help me, Severus?" Lucius screamed. "And no, I haven't been able to cast a bloody creature since I was at Hogwarts."

"Try it." Severus shrugged. "It's a highly secure form of communication we use in the Order."

"And I suppose I need a happy memory too?" Lucius spat. "Like what? I can't bloody well remember seven years of my life if you do recall!"

"LUCIUS!" Severus yelled. "For Salazar's sake! Just bloody try for once!"

"I AM TRYING! WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I CALLED YOU OVER?"

Both men were out of their seats, wands outstretched, tea cold and forgotten on the table.

"The incantation is simple: Expecto Patronum. Just think only of your happy memory. Don't let it go even for a second." Severus whispered.

"I know how to do it." Lucius snapped. "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing happened.

"See! I-"

"Again!" Severus ordered mercilessly.

"Expecto-"

"Convince me, won't you? A second year could do this."

Lucius grit his teeth. "Expecto Patronum!"

"Are you even thinking of a happy thought?"

"I'm trying to envision us all alive, but frankly I'm finding that a difficult task." Lucius snapped.

"Then pick something else. Your wedding day, for example."

"Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO POTRONUM!"

A wisp, a silvery wisp of nothingness.

"Good." Severus said, and let it be known that he did not praise lightly. "Imagine every detail. Every noise, every smell. Were there flowers? Was there music? Were you happy?"

 This time, Lucius shut his eyes, unable to match the challenge in those onyx eyes. He imagined rows of grapevines, a white isle, several white roses, and a quiet harp. He tried to relax, let the emotions flow through him, but something was off. He frowned.

Where was the dress? Where was the perfume? The red roses? Unicorn-drawn carriages? Organs, violins, nymph choruses?

Where was Narcissa?

It felt so nice though, and he couldn't understand or hope to explain the feeling. The entire memory was foreign, as if it came a long way away, over a connection of gossamer.

And yet he was happy...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Narcissa watched wide-eyed from the doorway. Glass shattered.

It was silvery, albeit very faint, but the animal was unmistakable. It wore a crown of feathers on its head, and had a sharp beak and beady eyes. Narcissa's mouth dropped as she bent unconsciously to pick up the wine glasses. The large silver bird looked right at her, millions of silvery eyes staring from its regal plume.

Severus staggered back, his legs catching the edge of his seat. Lucius' patronus was a peacock. A bloody peacock. It fit perfectly with his personality...so then, was Hasan Castell's really a peacock, or was he influenced by the memories trapped inside? Because of Altair's meddling, how much of Hasan was Hasan? And if he took that away...would Dumbledore's golden boy be damaged beyond repair? He would have to research this, and research fast.

Lucius' eyes were wide open and as brightly silver as the majestic bird in front of him. And another thing, his cheeks were wet. As soon as he opened his eyes, the vineyard and the white roses melted away into the picture of Narcissa, crouching over broken glass. His vision was not possible. It was only that, a vision. And no matter how much he desired it, how much he was intrigued by it, he could never ever have it.

But Narcissa couldn't have seen what he had seen. Narcissa couldn't have known what he had known. So then why was she on the ground? Why was Severus on the couch, looking as if someone had given him a great slap in the face?

"You cast a patronus." Narcissa finally spoke, icy blue eyes sparking with amazement.

"Yes, but-"

And then there was a clap. Severus was clapping from his seat, a slow type of clap, dramatic, staged.

"Dark wizards can't cast a patronus." Severus explained smugly. "That's something the Order can't deny. It's your salvation."

"OH!" Narcissa beamed, and summoned more whiskey from the cabinet to celebrate.

But Lucius felt anything but saved. If anything, he wanted to punch Severus in the face and tell him it wasn't worth it. Because of that patronus, he knew exactly the happiest moment of his life, and absolutely nothing could bring it back. He hated Severus. He hated himself. But he knew it was stupid, a pointless, puerile hate.

Draco was saved.

They were saved.

And it only cost his pain.

.oOo.

Mad-Eye Moody wouldn't have been Mad-Eye if not for the day he had been guarding the Department of Mysteries. He was not exactly sure why he was down there, except that there was a wrenching in his gut, and he tended to follow those sorts of things. It had been the week that Trelawney's prophecies had been moved into the Department, so suspicion was running high.

As he approached the final level, however, an unknown figure robed in black, shot out from the shadows and ran towards the exit. Naturally, Moody had whipped out his wand, and he fancied that he hit his mark, although he couldn't be sure, and he would never even know. For the figure was gone the next moment, leaving Moody wondering if he had hallucinated the whole thing. No one escaped Auror Moody. He was the best as far as law enforcement went. So for something to surprise him and then for it not to be there? Now what sense could be made from that?

Moody would have dismissed the entire thing, if not for the peculiar feeling around his eye. Returning to the surface, Moody had only to glimpse in the mirror to know it had not been a dream. His eye was gone. Missing as if it were never there. In its stead was a smashed socket, which was easily remedied at St. Mungo's. Yet, the mystery remained, and so did his electric blue eye.

.oOo.

"There's an Order Meeting today?" Ron asked excitedly around a mouthful of food.

Molly eyed him sharply. "Not for you. You're much too young." the Weasley matriarch plopped down on one of the kitchen chairs at Grimmauld and began to cut into her eggs, sunny-side down.

"Yes, all children will have to go upstairs. It's the rule." Lupin said with a sympathetic shrug.

"But don't they deserve to know too, Moony?" Sirius questioned defiantly.

"They're too young, Sirius!" Molly snapped.

"No, we're not!" Ginny whined. "Neville's already had to defeat You-Know-Who three times before. It's the least you could do to keep him informed!"

"I'd like to know at least." Hermione chimed in quietly.

"Yeah," Neville said, putting down his water glass with a bang. "I want to know what's going on with this war. If I'm to represent the Light, I should know what its purpose is."

"Well said, Neville!" Sirius grinned, taking a sip of coffee. Lupin glared. He didn't have anything against letting the children know some things, but having them all together? They were all much too young, and besides, Dumbledore had specifically said that this meeting was going to be different and extremely important.

"I want to be there too." Ginny said. "We all need to know what to do to support Neville."

"The best thing is to support him as a friend." Lupin said. "Leave the war plans to us. No child should have to bear such a burden."

Neville frowned down at his toast. It wasn't really his burden, was it? But there was something else there, an attachment to the responsibilities. He had to represent the Light for the missing icon of the Light, but didn't that make him the leader of the Light? A leader was only thus if he led others. If Harry Potter was missing, he could not lead, and therefore was not a leader. Then, didn't that make Neville the leader? It was all rather confusing, but the point of it was that Neville, for all intents and purposes, now felt like the leader of the Light. So shouldn't that mean he should be allowed at the meeting?

He opened his mouth to speak when Fred (or was it George?) cut him off.

"Mum, it's alright. We'll take care of Neville-"

"-And make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

Molly looked quickly relieved, but Lupin was eyeing them suspiciously.

"We're not banning you because we think you don't understand. We’re banning you because the Order is not a place for children."

"A war is no place for children either." Sirius huffed.

"Then you should agree then that they shouldn't be exposed at the meeting." Lupin growled. Sometimes Sirius was alright, but sometimes his stubbornness really put a thorn in his side. Couldn't he see he was only trying to do what was best for the kids?

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to go, I think this whole Order thing is over my head. I mean, I fought V-voldemort how many times?" Neville deadpanned. "But by all means, if I'm not allowed to know what he's planning, then don't tell me."

Lupin sighed exasperatedly. "Molly?"

"You heard what Mr. Lupin said. You can't go and that's final." Molly told them. "This is not a personal attack, it just is. Now finish breakfast and get dressed. Then you can continue helping me to clean out this house. I can't believe how long it's been this way..."

Sirius, shoulder hunched, grinned sheepishly at the children. "Well, I tried, but maybe it would be best for you all not to attend. It would be pretty boring anyway. I'm falling asleep half the time."

Fred and George grinned at that, while Ginny frowned, and Neville glared at the table. This was so bloody unfair! Honestly! Neville fumed silently as he finished up his breakfast. He wondered why Fred and George were acting so happy about it, and why Ginny seemed to know something he didn't.

Once the kids had gone upstairs, Lupin turned to his fiancé with a small smile.

"I'm proud of you."

Sirius started. "For what? Telling them it'd be boring?"

"No, for letting it go. I know you think it's best for them to know everything, but think of us at their age. They're barely thirteen. It's not right for them to have to attend battle meetings."

"It's not right for them to grow up in a war."

"A lot of things aren't right." Lupin said quietly. "But at least I've got you."

Lupin put his hand over top Sirius' and squeezed gently.

"I love you, Padfoot."

Sirius grinned from ear to ear. "Love you too, Moony."

Sometime during this time, Molly had left.

.oOo.

"I can't believe they did that!" Neville pouted as they played Exploding Snap. "How can they think of banning me? ME! Their bloody figurehead!"

"Neville, calm down!" Hermione chastised. "It's just a meeting. We'll learn sooner or later."

"Sooner!" Fred yelled. "Look! George and I invented these last year."

He held out what appeared to be a flesh-coloured ball of string as Neville examined it with disgust.

"Oh, gross! What is that?" Neville asked.

"It's your ticket to the meeting." Ginny said smugly. "Watch." She took the ball from Fred's hand and held it by the end, letting it unravel until something odd hung at the end.

"Is that-? Is that-?"

"We give you the Extendable Ear!" George announced, hopping on the bed. "With this little trinket we can hear everything that goes on in that room."

"All we need to do is stand at the top of the stairs and let it hang!" Fred said. "It picks up everything, and we can all listen."

"Wow! How did you guys make this?" Hermione queried, fascinated.

"It took a few tries." George admitted.

"Had awful smelling putty in their room for months." Ginny said, wrinkling her nose.

"Wait, then how come I didn't know about this?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"'Cause you were too busy writing love letters to Lav-Lav." Ginny giggled.

Ron frowned, but didn't comment.

"This is great, you guys!" Neville beamed. "Now we can hear what they're up to!"

"What, you thought we'd let that go so easily?" Fred snorted. "No, we have backup plans."

"So when does the meeting start?" Hermione asked.

"Ten, I think." Ginny said. "We have to eat dinner first, and then by the time everyone arrives..."

"Well, we better start cleaning. I think Sirius found a boggart in the closet."

.oOo.

"Relax, you'll be fine, dear." Narcissa smiled softly as she kissed him chastely on the lips.

"What's not be relaxed about?" Lucius queried. "It shouldn't be much worse than a Death Eater meeting."

"Oh, I rather doubt that." Snape sneered. He was standing by the door, waiting for Lucius to finally get the nerves to leave. "I've already informed Dumbledore that you'll be making your debut."

"Thank you again, Severus, for doing this for us." Narcissa said. "Now, behave yourself, Lucius. Don’t forget about your Patronus."

"Yes, it's a miracle of Gryffindors to trust on so little." Lucius said. "I should probably be thankful for it now."

"Don't be too thankful." Severus drawled. "They're bloody annoying when they want to be."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. Not from what Draco has said. Well, good luck." Narcissa beamed, nodding towards Severus.

With a resigned nod, the Malfoy lord turned to the door, and the two were out of the Manor and down the lane before they apparated into a dark, vacant street.

"So this is where the great Order of the Phoenix has its headquarters?"

Snape nodded. "And you haven't even seen it yet." With a flick of his wand, flicked with just the right intention, the apartment buildings began to separate, and a curious little door began to appear where none previously were.

Lucius watched the door lock into place with some trepidation, wondering why on earth this should make him so uneasy. He glanced at Severus, thinking suddenly how the man had endured this back and forth for so long.

"Well, we better get on with it." Lucius said.

"Indeed."

The two men strode to the door, robes billowing behind them menacingly, much more fitting of a Death Eater meeting than any slapdash Order of the Light. Snape tapped the door once with his wand, and pushed it open once he heard the slight click.

Severus entered first, feeling strangely like a guardian as Lucius trailed behind. Often they had fought for the Dark Lord's favour, but that time had come to a close. Now it was not about rank or prestige. It was about surviving and gaining the trust of others, something very hard to put into a competition. Still, it felt odd.

There was no one to greet them as they inched down the first hall. Much of the noise came from the kitchen which was (irritatingly) not wrapped in a silencing ward.

"I'll go first." Snape said. "I doubt Albus will leave you waiting for long."

Lucius nodded numbly.

The greasy haired man strode forward and placed his hand on the knob, before very deliberately turning it.

"Ah! Severus!" Remus greeted.

Snape nodded towards the werewolf, refraining to sneer at the mutt next to him. At the table there was seated Molly and Arthur, Remus and Sirius, Kingsley, and Minerva.

"Albus hasn’t arrived yet." Minerva stated the obvious. "He's supposed to floo and bring two more."

"Two?" Snape echoed.

"Yes, Nymphadora and Moody." Kingsley said. "I think we could use their help a great deal."

Severus smoothed his face into a mask. Should he reveal Lucius now? Or should he just-?

Suddenly, the floo roared to life, and the headmaster, in brilliant fuchsia robes came tumbling out of it, quickly followed by a pink-haired woman, and a rough looking man. Oh Salazar! Could he not get a break?

"Ah! I see you're all here!" Albus cried jovially, taking his seat at the head of the table. "May I introduce Alastar Moody and his protégée Nymphadora Tonks?"

"It's Tonks." she said as her hair turned bright red.

The two took a seat on Dumbledore's right, as Severus took the seat closest to him on the direct opposite end of the table. As he pulled it out, Albus said, "I believe, Severus, that you have a friend of your own to introduce."

Sirius would have liked to shout: The man has friends? But refrained due to Remus' warning glare- and it was damn scary.

"You brought a friend?" Arthur questioned uneasily.

"Yes, in fact." Snape said with a curl of his lip. He made his way gracefully over to the door and signaled for Lucius to enter. The blond licked his lips (not, he would admit, in nervousness) and followed the dark man into the room of the Light.

The Weasley's looked about ready to have a heart attack as the aristocrat stepped into the room. Arthur was clutching the arms of his chair, while Molly was clutching her heart. Sirius' eyes bugged out of his socket, whereas Lupin looked mildly surprised at everything. Kingsley was impassive, preferring to hear the whole story before making judgments, but the other side of the table wasn't so pleased.

"What's he doing he?" Tonks asked. "Isn't he-?"

"DEATH EATER, I'LL KILL YOU." Moody shouted, standing up abruptly.

"There will be no killing tonight, Alastor." Albus said without much concern. "Please, sit down."

Lucius felt some of his nerves met away to be replaced with anger. How could that old man just make assumptions like that? He didn't even know him! Granted, he had done some pretty horrible things in the past, but surely the Light was all about second chances!

"Thank you." Lucius said past the lump in his throat. He took the seat next to Severus, on his right, so that he could diagonally keep a watch of Moody. Even by Death Eater standards, the man was a force to be reckoned with.

"Well, now that we're all officially here!" Albus began. "I'd like to explain a few things about our latest recruit. This-" he gestured. "is Lucius Malfoy."

"We bloody know that." Arthur growled. "But what's he doing here?"

"Well, you see, I was just getting to that." Albus said. "I believe he has, what's the phrase? Turned coat."

"Surely you can't just-" Tonks protested.

"How do we know what he's really up to?" Alastor asked. "Unless we perform legilimency on him?"

Lucius was getting slightly panicked now. Legilimency? Surely not!

"Alastor, I would thank you to wait a second." Albus said. "Now, I don't know the specifics, but for protecting his family we will have gained a valuable asset."

"Or a spy for the Dark!" Alastor insisted. "Look, Albus. I know you are the leader but sometimes people aren't as great as they seem to be."

"I'd rather not have him in the same house as my kids, Albus." Arthur said. "We need to make sure."

"I'll make sure!" Moody yelled. "Legilimens!"

Even from across the table the force of the spell, coupled with Lucius' utter surprise, had Lucius blasted into the wall. Lucius' shields were good if not strong, however, and the two men fought over the edges of Lucius' consciousness.

"Protego!" Snape snapped, ending the childish attack with a flick of his wand. Lucius slumped down beside him, rubbing his temples with an elegant hand. "Albus." Snape growled.

Albus looked deeply distraught. "Perhaps Alastor is right."

"For the children." Molly nodded.

"What will it take to convince you?" Lucius demanded, more than a little pissed off. "Even the Dark Lord has the courtesy of brushing over Occlumency. How else has Severus survived all these years?"

"Severus?" Albus enquired. "Do you have any ideas?"

"There is nothing he can say that will change what he is!" Alastor growled.

"What if it wasn't words?" Lupin suggested. "What if we got a select few memories? Or maybe veritaserum?"

"After what just happened?" Snape hissed. "I don't even think you'd be stupid enough to give free reign to those who hate you."

"Hey! He's the one trying to earn our trust, remember?" Sirius said. "Isn't there a spell or something that can determine the purity of heart?"

"The Patronus charm." Alastor said immediately. "None of the Death Eaters I've ever come across have been able to cast it."

"Perhaps because they were locked in Azkaban." Sirius muttered darkly.

"Well, if Mr. Malfoy can cast the charm that should be enough, right?" Tonks asked.

"A fully corporeal one." Moody commanded.

"Not even the average wizard can do that!" Lupin said. "Isn't it a bit unfair?"

"Life isn't fair." Kingsley said gently. "But if this is the best option, I don't see why not. You do know the incantation, don't you, Malfoy?"

Lucius nodded jaggedly.

Snape stiffened beside him. Though Lucius had been able to cast it once, he had failed to mention that it was highly variable. A sudden tragedy could cause it to disappear, lack of a happy situation could prevent the memories from manifesting into the spell...he just hoped Lucius' determination could overcome this.

The blond stood up and took out his wand. Instinctually, everyone else had their wands out too, and Snape fought not to roll his eyes.

"The incantation is Expecto Patronum. Good luck!" Albus said with that damnable twinkle in his eye.

Lucius shut his eyes, feeling incredibly self-conscious as he tried to picture the wedding again. What was there? White roses, was that it? And, and, and, a vineyard? The memory was hazy, not crisp like before, and he felt as if he were imagining the whole thing instead of remembering it.

His lips didn't move. He could feel the lack of power before his spell. Quick, what other memory could he grab? Could he pick? Draco alive? Narcissa loving him? He could feel their eyes burning a hole in him as he continued to think. Graduation? No. Getting the Dark Mark? Absolutely no.

"What? Can't do it?" Alastor laughed.

"Moody..." Tonks pleaded.

Lucius quickly went through his memories again. His first day at Hogwarts. That would have to be good, right? His parents took him to the train station where he  knew he met a young Altair Castell and probably Narcissa, and maybe Bellatrix if the two were together...

"Ex...Expecto Patronum!" Lucius whispered. He snapped his silvery eyes open to see a thick wisp of silver coming from the tip of his wand. Though it wasn't much, everyone (excluding Moody) was fairly gaping in awe. Spells didn't lie. Magic didn't lie. Perhaps the Malfoy lord had changed after all...Molly looked about to have a heart attack.

"Intention can be faked. Only the Light can cast full bodied patronuses." Moody said smugly.

Severus felt himself grow angry. "Not many wizards, regardless of affiliation, can even cast a noncorporeal patronus. To demand as much now, even after you have ascertained that his intentions are pure-!"

"Severus, calm down." Albus said with a slight frown. The last thing he needed was for a little war to break out at the table. "Alastor, is not that enough?"

"Excuse me." Lucius said. "I think I need a minute."

His hand was on the knob, and his throat constricted with a mixture of shame and confusion. He just needed a bit of fresh air...and a happy memory or two. He opened the door and that was when a chill went through the room.

Someone screamed.

Chapter Text

A/N- Please pay attention to the times!

Neville, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George were leaning over the rail with two extendable ears in hand.

"Ready Fred?"

"Ready George!"

The twins slowly lowered the contraptions right outside the door, watching as they twitched for the best angle to hear.

"Are you sure?" Hermione whispered. "What if they're not all here-"

The door rattled suddenly, and the extendable ears were quickly reeled back up. Impulsively, Hermione threw a silencing charm around them (since it was undetectable at their location).

"Shit! That was close!" George whispered excitedly.

The rest of the children took a step back, eager to see but not to be seen.

"Ah, it's just Snape." Neville mumbled.

"Wait, no, who's that behind him?" Ginny asked.

"There's someone behind him?" Ron questioned dumbly.

"Of course there is! Can't you hear they're speaking to each other?"

"Well, not everybody has ears like you, Ginny!"

"Shh! I see them. It's-it's-"

"What Neville? Oh Merlin! Mother's going to have a heart attack!" Fred nearly laughed.

"Hey, I thought you were all buddy-buddy with Draco?" Ron asked shrewdly.

"Well, he's closer to Hasan actually." Neville said. "But that doesn't mean I trust his parents. I mean, his aunt- I-I mean!"

"Shh, Neville." Hermione said. "It's just odd is all. Draco is fine mostly, but his parents, especially his dad isn't too popular in the wizarding world."

"And how would you know?" Ron sneered.

"Because I, unlike some people, are literate. If you bothered to read the Daily Prophet you would see how many enemies he has made by bribing his way through everything." Hermione snapped. "I don't see why he's here though. Isn't he supposed to be You-Know-Who's greatest supporter?"

"Oh, besides Snape?" George grinned. "Don't try and find logic, Hermione. Death Eaters are weird."

"Wait, shh! What's he doing?" Ginny. "He can't just...He can't just be leaving him there! What if he looks up and sees us?"

"As long as we don't make a noise..." Neville said.

They watched Severus enter the room first, leaving Lucius to wander the first floor...Lucius didn't recall ever being in this house. Granted, the Black family was quite extensive and their properties were many and scattered throughout the globe. He was curious to say the least, and entered into a little room on the right. To his surprise the entire room was empty, even shabby. The wood floor was scraped up, as if someone had taken a rake and scrubbed the floor clean. There were no windows in the room, so the only light came from a dingy little chandelier high on the ceiling. It was quite uncharacteristic for a Black house, and Lucius was left wondering why it was like it was for all of five seconds, for turning again, his words were stuck in his throat.

It was the Black Family Tree. The one true record of all Black's in existence. Many faces were burned off, some darker than others, and Lucius vaguely remembered the reasons why so and so was disinherited. So this was where it was all this time, Lucius mused. It was just rotting wallpaper in a hidden apartment in muggle London. And yet, it determined rank, prestige, marriage, life...he stared at the faces which smiled and sneered, and otherwise glared. They didn't speak, rather, it was a normal photograph, not an enchanted painting. His eyes roamed over the names, easily spotting his own, besides Narcissa, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan. There was even a little portrait of Draco as an infant. But it was one on the farthest branch which captivated the Malfoy Lord.

It was a rather handsome face: Blue eyes. Brown hair. And it had but a single word beneath it.

.oOo.

After some time, Snape came back out to retrieve the Malfoy patriarch, who had eventually returned into their line of vision.

"How long do you think it'll take for Mom is start screaming?" George asked.

"Don't know. Malfoy's made it real rough for Dad at work." Fred replied.

They waited some more, before lowering the Extendable Ears down again. From above, they could make out a few loud sounds but nothing else.

"Isn't there a fine tuner or something?" Hermione asked.

"A fine what-?" Ginny wondered.

"To adjust it." she explained.

"Er, well. This is just a prototype." Fred said. "Sorry. We're kind of low on funds."

The crackling reminded Hermione of the radio when it was off the station. It was all together useless, and a muggle bugging device would have probably worked better...if only Ron wasn't such a git about it.

"Hey, um, is that closet supposed to be opening?" Ginny asked presently.

"What?"

"That closet."

"OH SHIT!" Fred yelled, still under the silencing charm. "We forgot to get the boggart!"

"What? We? There is no We in this! You forgot, oh brother of mine!"

"What do we do? We can't cast spells without bringing attention to us..." Ginny said.

"We're going to have to go down a level and get rid of it before it reaches the door. Mom'll have our heads if that thing gets inside!"

"Quick!"

The kids fairly flew down the stairs, wands outstretched and ready to go boggart blasting! Hermione cast another silencing spell around them, before slicing open the door with a cutting curse. Something large and dark came flying out of the small room and into the hallway with an indeterminable amount of speed.

"Riddikulus!" They all shouted together, but it seemed to bounce off it as it ricocheted into the wall. The poor blob of a creature didn't know what to do. A spider? A teacher? A broken broom? Broken wand? Broken heart? Dead child? Their fears were as mercurial as a tornado. Disastrous, ugly, unpredictable.

Just as it seemed to burst into nonbeing, the door to the kitchen opened just a fraction, and the little boggart hopped at the chance...

.oOo.

"Excuse me." Lucius said. "I think I need a minute."

His hand was on the knob, and his throat constricted with a mixture of shame and confusion. He just needed a bit of fresh air...and a happy memory or two. He opened the door and that was when a chill went through the room.

Someone screamed.

Lucius didn't understand at first when Molly Weasley let out a blood curdling scream. He had never particularly liked hearing others scream, preferring to use a silencing spell to avoid the earache. But when he felt a cold, clammy hand on his own, he suspected that perhaps there had been a reason after all.

Lucius whipped around as the ice encased his soul. The dementor's breath rattled, in and out, in and out...He didn't think as he pulled out his wand and aimed it at the dementor. He didn't think as he screamed "Expecto Patronum" for all it was worth. And he especially did not think when the dementor transformed into a curious broken dagger...

A bright silver peacock erupted from his wand, shedding its radiant light on everyone and charging down whatever the creature was. The bird was regal, majestic, but also a bit smug. Take that, Alastor! Lucius thought.

The thing exploded in a million motes, leaving the glowing bird behind.

"Well, well. He can do it after all." Alastor sneered.

"Did you plan this?" Severus screamed at Albus accusingly.

"Severus! He wouldn't-" Minerva protested half-heartedly. In all honesty, she had no idea how she felt about Albus these days.

"Then-?"

"It was me!" Neville said, rushing into the doorway.

"No, it was all of us!" Ginny said, dragging the other children with her. The only one looking remotely abashed was Hermione, and she wasn't even flushed.

"What was that?" Molly asked shakily.

"Not a dementor." Remus said, "A boggart."

"Wait, you mean...?" Molly rounded on the twins, red faced and very angry. "I TOLD YOU BOYS TO CLEAN UP!"

"We did, Mom!"

"Yeah, honestly! We just forgot!"

"You forgot? You nearly gave your mother a heart attack!" Arthur yelled.

"Well, let's not be too hard on them. We have now determined that Mr. Malfoy is trustworthy." Kingsley said.

"Thanks." Alastor sneered. He looked like he wanted to tear the twins apart.

"So does that mean we can stay?" Ginny asked hopefully, seeking out the most sympathetic of them all- Tonks.

"Yes." Sirius, Tonks, and Kingsley said at the same time as Minerva, Snape, Lupin and Moody said "No."

"Well, how about the newest member gets to decide?" Albus said happily. "What do you think, Lucius?"

The blond kept a blank face, but inside he was fuming. Either way he was damned to gain enemies...but then, he would also gain allies, which was more than he had now.

"I do not have grudge against them staying."

"They're children!" Molly protested.

"Excellent choice!" Albus said, completely ignoring her.

"Really?" Neville asked with nervous excitement.

Snape wanted to say something about his poor listening skills, but didn't want to risk bringing more disfavor on their heads.

"Yes, you may sit at the end over there, right between Tonks and Minerva." Albus told them. As the kids hurried to sit, Lucius was busy catching his breath. Salazar! This was even worse than a Death Eater meeting! All you had to do there was grovel! Now he had to defend himself at every turn! It was damn infuriating, not to mention tiring...and pointless.

"Now that everyone is finally here," Albus announced with a twinkle in his eye. "I thought we'd discuss a few new developments and a few old ones."

Which told them absolutely nothing.

"As many of you know, Harry Potter has been missing since age eleven."

Lucius was surprised but didn't show it. Eleven? How was that even possible? Had the boy run away? Had Dumbledore not been keeping track?

"When will we begin the search again?" Minerva pressed.

"Well, in light of Lord Voldemort's return (Lucius flinched) I find it difficult to search without raising suspicion."

"Of what?" Neville asked.

Albus shifted uneasily. "People look to you for hope, Neville. But as soon as they see us searching for Mr. Potter, they will believe he is our only hope."

"Isn't he?" Lucius asked genuinely.

"It's absurd to be putting that type of burden on a child's shoulders. One, whom you have lost because you never bothered to check on him." Minerva huffed.

"Oh, I'm sure he just ran away." Molly said meekly.

"And never came back?" Moody barked harshly. "I bet you his guardians gave him away or threw him out more likely."

"That's terrible!" Tonks and Hermione moaned.

"So we're not resuming the search, is that it, Albus?" Minerva asked hotly.

Lucius was surprised at the bitterness in her voice, but he supposed every organization could not be daisies and roses all the time, even if they did try to make a united front.

"That is to say, not publically..." Albus fumbled for words. "But I do intend to search covertly. I've already contacted some local orphanages."

"The boy knows magic, Dumbledore. Surely he's bewitched the caretakers." Kingsley said.

All during this time, Snape remained uncharacteristically silent, but many chalked that up to be his unwillingness to ruin his image in front of his students. Lucius knew better. Snape knew something, and he was bloody well going to find out.

"Well, whatever you think is best." Sirius sighed. "I'm not giving up hope."

"Me neither." Lupin said quietly. "But the odds of him, even if he is alive..."

"The Hogwarts book hasn't crossed out his name yet." Minerva told them pointedly.

"Then it is only a matter of time." Albus said smoothly. "Now, for the next order of business. You know of the prophecy between the Boy-Who-Lived (he nodded to Neville) and the Dark Lord?"

Everyone nodded, wondering why he had brought this up.

"It has come to my attention that my memory isn't as sharp as before."

"But, Albus. You have a pensieve." Minerva said, not comprehending.

"No, I am worried I have placed it in my pensieve too late, where my mind might have already twisted a few words here and there... such as Harry Potter originally being the Bo-Who-Lived." With those words, Mineva, Snape, and Neville knew that the headmaster was talking about something radically different, since each of them knew the headmaster had not indeed mistaken the prophecy...It was only Severus who truly understood the implications. The headmaster wasn't worried about the prophecy. He was worried that someone had messed with his head...and he also desired to see the prophecy again.

"Why can't you apply to see it then?" Molly asked.

"Because the D.O.M. is secret, that's why," Tonks said.

"As a governor- perhaps?" Albus said, turning towards Lucius. Suddenly Lucius felt rather like a tool to be used, but if this was what it took...

"Not even that bootlicking scum can get inside." Moody told them bluntly. "It's too valuable for visitors to be coming and going."

"Then who has access?" Hermione asked.

"Unspeakables." Fred whispered. "No one knows a thing about them except that they work in the lowest level of the Ministry."

"So you want to break into the Ministry?" Snape queried dubiously. "Albus, with all due respect, do you want the Ministry to come after you as well?"

"That is why we're not going, at least, not personally." Albus said with a twinkle in his ice blue eyes. "I have reason to believe that Voldemort (Lucius flinched) does too."

"How?" Snape asked.

"Because I will put in the Daily Prophet that I may has misremembered the prophecy, which will inevitably lure the Dark Lord to ponder why he shouldn't listen to the original prophecy himself."

"What are you planning?" Lupin asked openly. "We'll help any way we can."

"The plan is not overly complicated." Albus began with some passion. "I plant the seed that I had misheard the prophecy, when in reality I have only, possibly, misremembered a word or two, causing Voldemort (another flinch) to prepare his own attack on the Ministry. When he does attack the Ministry, I want you, Lucius or Severus, to retrieve the prophecy in the chaos that will ensue when the Order ambushes them. From there, you will escape with the prophecy, the Order will catch the Death Eaters, and hopefully it will end without much loss on either side."

Except, it wasn't so simple, Snape thought. Albus really was worried about his memory, Neville really wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, and the only way to retrieve the prophecy was to have Harry Potter himself come and take it from the shelf...And even if the Dark Lord was killed? There were horcruxes...

"How will we take it from the shelf?" Lucius asked, echoing Snape's thoughts. "You must know they are protected by blood wards."

"I'm assuming Voldemort (Lucius flinched) will take it down himself. From there, it is only a matter of taking it out of his possession." Albus answered. "I cannot express to you enough how essential this is." How essential it is that my memories have not been tampered with..."Well, that is all."

Moody and Tonks flooed out first, leaving the rest of the Order to sit around awkwardly.

"Wow. That was something." Neville grinned happily to his friends. Snape was vaguely reminded of James Potter, but knew it wasn't fair to keep imposing James on everyone that annoyed him...

"So, welcome to the Order." Remus said, getting up. "Remus Lupin."

"Lucius, a pleasure."

"That was some patronus you had there. Not many people have a patronus that strong."

"It must have been the memory." Lucius said offhandedly.

"So what happens now?" Hermione asked George. "He just gives his orders and leaves?"

"Well, it is called the Order," George grinned. "And it was a pretty ambitious plan too."

"Alright, now. Get to bed, the lot of you!" Molly shouted.

"But Mom! It's true! That's a tall order even for Snape." George cried.

"Professor Snape." Moly said kindly. "And he's always doing these things for us. Why don't you thank him?"

Snape and George made eye contact for a millisecond, and George was already scrambling up the steps.

"Er, really rather not. Really appreciate it though. G'night!"

Arthur chuckled at Severus' bewildered expression, and even Lucius relaxed a bit. 

"So you're a couple now?" Lucius enquired of Remus, since Sirius didn't seem too keen on speaking with him.

"Yes, have been for a few months now. Time flies I guess." Remus said mildly.

"Indeed." Lucius said, deep in thought. Severus thought it best to leave now, before Lucus became too depressed in front of everyone. They might have believed his "patronus equals purity" thing, but they weren't even close to accepting him yet...

Minerva watched as everyone exited and sighed. Was she the only one with faith in Harry Potter?

.oOo.

Nagini liked meetings. They usually entailed food. Fresh, delicious food that ran red with blood. She also liked it when her Master stroked her scales. Not only did she get a free massage, but it terrified the humans as well, as if her Master would let her eat them, she scoffed. They'd taste terrible anyway...

Nagini slithered into the Lestrange meeting hall, where a long black wood table stood in the middle of the lightless room. Her Master sat in a high throne (he refused to call it a highchair) though he didn't really need it anymore. Over the past month or so, her Master had begun to grow again...It was not normal growing. No normal person had ruby red pupils, papery thin skin, nonexistent noses...and a head of scarily attractive hair. Viewed from the back, her Master may have passed for normal...if the viewer was blind. Bellatrix, however, had no complaints about his dreamy hair, even if it was on the body of some mutant boy-man. The present Dark Lord was now four feet high with an angular head, and disproportioned body. He was ugly, yes, but that was the least of his problems.

"Fenrir? Any news to report of the Redclaw packs?"

The hairy man smiled, showing all his teeth. "They will pledge allegiance shortly, right after the present Alpha dies."

Voldemort tilted his head slightly, licking his nonexistent lips. Nagini slithered under the table and up her Master's chair, letting her head rest next to his. On cue, he reached a bony hand up to pet her nudging nose, sending shivers throughout the old crowd.

"Why so long?" Voldemort enquired lightly. "Why can't you sway the present Alpha to our plans?"

"My lord, I tried but..."

Nagini licked her Master's ear, as if whispering some nasty torture for the wolfman.

"You did not try hard enough then." the Dark Lord hissed with gleaming red eyes. "CRUCIO!"

The man released a blood curdling scream, for though he was good at inflicting pain, he was a coward at heart. Nagini rolled her eyes. The spell was mild. Surely it couldn't hurt that much?

"My-my Lord! It was not my fault! Dumbledore-! The Order-! Sent Remus Lupin ahead of me!"

The Dark Lord stilled. Dumbledore would never delve into other magical sects without a purpose...Albus had known what he was going to do! Albus knew he was alive and recruiting...Sure, he had left a few major hints, such as leaving that Castell boy alive after he had witnessed Quirrell, him possessing Quirrell, and then leaving Quirrell to die in the chamber...But for Dumbledore to send a scout in the same place, at the exact time? Now that was eerie. The chances of there being a spy was slim- Every one of his Death Eaters were bound to him for life. Not even a noble Gryffindor would ever make that deal!

Voldemort cast the Cruciatous again and the thought from his mind. He'd think of it later, but for now, he had to overcome his less than appealing appearance and regain his followers' complete obedience.

"Need I say that another excuse like that will not suffice in the future?" 

"Y-yes, my Lord." Fenrir whimpered and withdrew.

"Bellatrix..." Voldemort whispered, addressing the simply simpering witch. "Have you talked to your nephew at all?"

"Yes, my Lord!" Bellatrix swooned. "He's absolutely delighted!"

"You lie! You have not seen him at all. He has been locked in his room ever since I've met with him."

Bellatrix flinched back. "But-! My Lord! How can he be anything other than completely happy?"

"He could be a traitor." Voldemort said simply.

"No, my Lord! Draco's not like that...! He's adored you since birth!"

"Then we shall see." he hummed pensively. "Will he figure out that no matter which side he fights for, he'll fall right into my hands? The Malfoys have served me faithfully throughout the generations. I own them."

"Oh? And the Lestrange's, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked sweetly.

Rodolphus tried not to cringe. He knew their marriage had been a farce, but he at least expected to get an heir out of it. Now he was chained for life by propriety to a deranged, Voldemort-loving chit. And still without an heir. Still, it hurt to see her like this with another...

"Yes..." Voldemort answered carefully. "I daresay you and Rodolphus can be put to good use. I need you to spy on the Malfoy's for me...I think they have lost some possessions of mine."

"What were they, if I may be so bold?" Bellatrix asked.

"A book of little importance and a cup." Voldemort disdained.

His Death Eaters were puzzled. Was he being cryptic? Or was he finally cracking?

"And me, my Lord?" Barty Crouch Junior asked obsequiously.

"You know the plan. You know what's at stake. Bellatrix-"

"Yes, my Lord?" she asked hurriedly.

"Aid Mr. Crouch in the raid tonight. And whatever you do, do not used Morsmorde."

Bellatrix nodded eagerly as Barty Jr. lowered his head. Yes, there were stakes...but they were going to win. And that brat of a boy? Draco, was it? Well, let's just say that Barty had his own plans for him...

.oOo.

7am July 30

Hasan woke with a killer headache. Urgh! He grabbed his forehead with both hands and cringed. What the hell had happened last night? He hadn't bumped into anything...he hadn't fought anything...He couldn't even remember what he dreamed about...With a frustrated sigh, Hasan slipped out of bed and strode down the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast.

Altair was there, happily eating a buttered croissant with gusto.

"Morning." Hasan muttered, hand still on his head.

"Something the matter?" Altair asked, eyes raising from his food.

"I- I don't quite know how to explain. It's like I hit my head on a freight train..." Hasan grabbed an orange from the bowl, and began to peel it, sinking his fingernails into the pungent skin.

"Does it hurt?" Altair asked, voice tinged with worry.

"It's more like I'm sore." Hasan sighed. "But it should pass. Do you remember if I hit myself last night?"

Altair shoved the rest of the croissant in his mouth, holding a finger up to signal he was still chewing. After about five minutes, in which Hasan had already devoured half the orange, Altair was ready to speak.

"Well, that's terrible. I'm sorry you're in discomfort."

Hasan bit into the fruit. He knew Altair cared, but at the moment, he was in too much...discomfort. In all honesty it wasn't like pain. It wasn't sharp, rather, it was muddy and heavy and altogether tiring. Whatever happened, he hoped it wouldn't happen again.

"You have that Longbottom boy's party today." Altair remarked nonchalantly.

"So I do." Hasan muttered dryly. He sighed. "Sorry I'm being such a pain. I'm just- I don't know."

"Don't worry about it." Altair said gently. "How about you go back to bed and I'll wake you before you need to go?"

Hasan did so, eager to lie down once again. What he didn't notice was the way Altair's eyes darkened, and the way the man fidgeted in his seat...

.oOo.

12am July 30 (Previously)

Severus Snape was more than a little concerned for the headmaster. Someone had messed with his mind, and Severus had a niggling feeling he knew just who...

Tonight he was to meet him.

There was a great many things which Severus wanted to speak with Altair about. Hasan for one. Lucius for another. Dumbledore definitely. And the Dark Lord- if he was lucky.

He apparated to the normal bar around midnight called La Lune d'Or. For muggles they certainly had an imagination. The sign had a picture of a unicorn on it, looking towards the moon. If only magic were as innocent. Severus walked briskly down the street, knowing the way scarcely better than last time. He had rarely been over to the Estate, but every so often, Altair would invite him inside for a cup of tea.

Tonight, however, he was inviting himself.

Snape came upon the hidden street, disguised as a forest, and easily made his way to the door. He knocked twice- the door swung open before the third. There was Altair, smiling pleasantly without a care in the world. For a supposedly dead follower of the Dark Lord he sure had a way of keeping hidden. Why, Severus half expected he'd let anyone inside his house if only they knocked, even Voldemort if he was polite about it. Severus' first reaction was to hiss, Idiot, in his mind. But something held him back. With everything he had learned and suspected, surely Severus could not continue to view the man in that light. He was a mastermind in his own way, and even Severus had to respect the fact that Altair had found an Out from the Dark Lord's service.

"Good morning, Severus!" Altair beamed.                                                               

"Indeed. It's barely morning." Severus commented tiredly.

"So, Severus, what is it you wanted to talk about?" Altair asked. "Oh, please, have a seat."

Snape's lip curled up at the sight of the flamingo-pink snake on the couch before tentatively sitting beside it. The snake seemed a bit miffed and slithered off onto the floor, changing to a light brown as it did so. While this was fascinating, Severus simply did not have the time to contemplate Altair's choice in pets.

"A few things actually." Severus said, unable to make eye contact with the man. If he was as good as Severus suspected at memory manipulation, then perhaps he had better not make eye contact...it was harder to defend against than a spell like obliviate.

"Oh? Well, let me get the tea out. Chamomile? I've also got chai. Green, if you insist-"

Snape sighed. They were about to discuss the fate of the whole world and here they were, asking each other about tea..."Chamomile is fine..." Severus said, putting his hand up to stop the other's rambling.

Altair nodded and went into the kitchen to pour each of them a cup. Then he went to sit down on the large armchair in front of the fire. As Snape took the steaming cup, he faintly sniffed it for potions. It seemed clean.

"So, what is it, Severus? The Dark Lord?" Altair wondered, no longer wearing the happiest of smiles.

"Yes and no." Snape murmured, taking a slow draught of his tea. Staring at the fire he said, "I actually have a proposition for you."

"For what may I ask?" Altair queried, eyes narrowing.

"I have news concerning Hasan, and you have information concerning the headmaster's, er, state of mind." he bit out.

"Ah...I see." Altair sighed. "Well, no need to make a deal. I'll answer all your questions. Consider it a thank you for looking after Hasan."

Snape shifted slightly in his seat. "Very well. First I must ask, where did you find the boy? And when?"

Altair leaned back to get comfortable. "He was at Penelope's House one day. I assumed he was raised there, but the next, the day when I met you in Hogsmeade, he had made a run for it."

"Why?" Snape eyes, eyebrows furrowing.

"Fear, I think. Of being adopted and abandoned again...Anyway, I found him in the Leaky Cauldron. I had traced him with my Magical Sight and his aura. Oh, it was delightful. It was emerald green- I can't describe it. I don't think you'd be able to imagine it either."

"It's indescribable." Snape murmured, remembering the exact shape and shade of Lily's eyes.

"Yes, and powerful. His power was so pure, though. I was drawn to it..."

"For what reason?" Severus questioned.

"He was powerful.-"

"Not for love?" Snape asked innocently.

Altair remained silent.

"You had no other motivation in finding a magical child?" Severus prodded. "You just happened to walk into Penelope's House, a highly isolated hovel of a building and find a magical boy, who later ran away, causing you to track him through the labyrinthine streets of London, suffering agonizing pain from not, indeed, taking the Muted Sights potion I had so carefully brewed for you?"

Altair bit his lip. Only a blind man could see that Severus did not already know too much. "Severus. How much of this do you truly want to know?"

There was no thought involved. "All of it." he answered automatically.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"Are going to obliviate me like the headmaster?" Severus asked icily without making eye contact.

There was a silence like no other.

"No." Altair decided. "I must tell someone. Severus, please understand. Hasan is my life. I love him as my son, as my own. I'd never do anything to hurt him..." Here, the man took a deep breath and raised his blue eyes, "But at first I did not know him. At first all I saw was power. Power which was needed for the memories. I know you have found them already. How much do you really wish to know, Severus? Do you want to know how I destroyed Lucius' life? How I set him up with Narcissa? Made him take the Dark Mark? Had him bear a son? How I nearly killed him, but at last minute decided to erase the man I loved and all we held dear? All of this? All just so that I could come out as a savior...Severus, look at me! I swear I will not tamper with your recollection, though I've grown quite good at it."

Severus warily tore his eyes away from the crackling fire to face the Castell Lord. Altair sat there, with a forlorn look in his old gray eyes. Every inch of him screamed sincerity, and Severus immediately knew it to be true.

"Tell me all of it."

Altair sighed. "Very well...but first I must start from the beginning. The very beginning." He swallowed audibly then took a sip of tea to stall. "After Hogwarts, Lucius and I were research partners. We discovered that all witches and wizards had the same amount of potential magical power, but the amount they could access differed with a few key factors such as maturity and their environment. At the time, the Dark Lord was rallying people to his side with logic such as pureblood supremacy. With this research, we would surely be killed...well, it was rather inevitable. Lucius comes from a Dark family. I come from a Dark family. We were invited to a meeting one day and you don't ever stop coming once you go. I know how you think of me. I'm an idiot, a fool. The Dark Lord thought so too. He couldn't use me for anything useful. I'm a slow learner, you know- I couldn't duel half as well as Lucius. I couldn't fight or heal or brew. The Dark Lord wanted me to spy on Dumbledore- take up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. Well," Altair laughed, "The Dark Lord was right about one thing- I've got a knack for falling into scrapes..."

"But you didn't take the job." Snape interjected. "You tried to kill yourself...Why?"

"It's terrible. I cannot...Severus, you are good at Occlumency but this is more important than your life. I cannot condemn you like this...this secret-"

Snape sharply inhaled. "Horcruxes."

Altair blinked mouth hanging agape. Instead of exclaiming how it was that Severus knew, he simply said, "This is earlier than I expected..."

Severus shot him a shrewd look. "Earlier, how? You didn't mess with time, did you? Oh, merciful Salazar!" He could just imagine Altair accidentally poking a hole through the space time continuum!

"Haha, no." Altair chuckled. "No, even I know my limits. I met with Dumbledore a long time ago to discuss the Magic-Blood research. During that time he tried to Legilimize me. For the Greater Good, you know? He knew I was from a Dark family and knew I went to the meetings. He learned about the horcruxes before I even knew he was in my mind...the first thing he wanted to do was tell the aurors. You think I'm stupid? Telling the aurors would cause total chaos! Everyone would want to get their hands on one! Auction them off, or use them to blackmail the Dark Lord- as ludicrous as that sounds. I don't think badly of Albus; he was just a little excited by the news. But I couldn't let this happen. What if others decided to make horcruxes as well? It was a practice most nearly forgotten! It was best to keep it secret."

"So you obliviated him?" Severus asked aghast. "Just like that. Imagine, Altair Castell obliviating the most powerful wizard of the century..."

He nodded. "I took the word Castell from his mind. I couldn't let him remember me...and once I realized how dangerous the information was, there was no way I could let Lucius walk around with it..."

"But you were emotionally attached. You couldn’t simply obliviate him." Severus said in wonder. "So you took the memories and planted them...in Hasan..."

"They were actually in the dagger for a while before I could move them. The power generated from the dagger because of my love for Lucius kept the memories alive- but it was also painful. How could I keep remembering the man I loved when he was married...and had a child? Remember what I said about power? Hasan has the same amount as anyone else, but the way he is able to use it...He has more access to it than anyone else on this planet, except maybe the Dark Lord or Albus. He wouldn't even notice the energy it took to sustain the memories..."

"But he has." Snape said. "This year. Whenever the dementors get close he experiences the memories."

"Ah, I see. Dark creatures do tend to shake the brain." Altair said thoughtfully, though mostly unperturbed. "So he knows about me and Lucius then?"

"Yes." Snape sighed, wondering why the man wasn't as upset as he should be.

"Good." Altair all but murmured. "Because I need him to understand as we go along so that at the end it won't be as terrible."

At the end? What is he talking about? Severus thought.

"There is one other thing which I wish to talk of." Severus told him. "I see you have a snake so you must already know."

"Know what? That he's an animagus?" Altair guessed.

Severus sighed. This would be so much easier if Altair's intelligence was spread out across a normal range of general activities...

"No."

"Then what? Severus?"

Snape took a deep breath. As much as Hasan was originally a power source, he knew that Altair had come to love him as his own, and now? There was no telling how Altair would react.

"Hasan. No last name?"

"He was raised in an orphanage, Severus. Haven't you been listening?"

"But you haven't asked for it?" Severus confirmed.

"He's a Castell now." Altair said, affronted.

"Yes, but before."

"I don't understand."

"And is Hasan the name he came with as well?"

"Are you saying Hasan isn't...Hasan?"

"I'm saying that he wasn't born under that name."

"Severus." Altair said warningly. His blue eyes flashed in agitation. He could take bad news, but suspense? That was one of the reasons why he tended to just act rather than wait.

"He's Harry Potter." Severus said very definitely.

Altair spit out his tea. "Harry Potter?" he exclaimed. "Severus, he doesn't even look like James!"

"You're the expert on magic." Severus retorted. "You tell me how a boy without a glamour can manage to fool nearly everyone. The entire world has gone crazy over Mr. Potter's disappearance. He has slipped under Albus' nose too, although I suspect your obliviation had something to do with it."

Altair nodded. "I suspect so too. Luck! Sometimes I wonder if it's really a curse. Although, I suppose it would have been worse had Dumbledore noticed him. They'd most likely discover me and that's not ideal for anyone...But you must be joking! I can't believe that Hasan is your missing savior! No one can sustain another appearance this long and sustain the memories."

"He's more powerful than most, you said."

"Yes well..." Altair muttered affronted, "Dumbledore is more powerful than most! That doesn't make him the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Altair. I am asking you to focus here!" Severus said harshly. "Is there nothing that will convince you?" Snape sighed. "Nothing in his aura? You have seen the Dark Lord's aura once. Can you sense anything in his curse scar? For Salazar's sake! It must be full of dark magical residue!"

"I-" Altair stopped. Yes, there was something. The red flecks.

"Yes?" Snape asked eagerly, obsidian eyes looking at him for the first time, scrutinizing him for clues. "What are you remembering?"

Quickly, Altair thought of another reason. "Hissing. I thought it was just Tina, but she never hisses with me. He's a parselmouth, isn't he? Just like the Dark Lord?"

"Yes. I suspect some of the Dark Lord's powers were transferred over from the curse."

"Transferred, you say?" Altair squeaked.

"Altair, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. It's just, a lot to take in. I believe you."

Severus looked at him oddly. "Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"Go."

"Wait, what?"

"I said go!" Altair shouted. "I need to do something. Before he wakes."

"Altair, it's one in the morning!" Snape protested.

"Yes, and I'm a bit short-tempered, so if you would kindly give me my potion and remove yourself from my home?" Altair rose with grace and began to walk upstairs.

Chapter Text

A/N: The mystery of Hasan's mind will be quickly advancing through the rest of the story! Luna gives Hasan back an heirloom, Neville worries. Dumbledore loses his temper, and isn't it just curious that the Sorting hat is the single entity in Hogwarts which has been inside everyone's minds? PLEASE REVIEW at the end! I love reading all your lovely notes!

And there is a VOTE at the end!

Present. 4pm July 30.

Harry woke up again to Tina licking his face.

:Ugh! What is it, Tina?:

:It is nearly time to go!:

Hasan fairly fell out of bed, casting tempus with his wand as he did so.

:It's only four, Tina. Altair would have gotten me up in half an hour.:

Tina seemed to laugh. Her scales turned bright blue as she hissed back,

:But what fun would that be?:

Hasan glared playfully at her before hopping back on the bed. He noticed that his head wasn't hurting so much anymore.

:Hey, Tina. What happened last night?:

:Last night or this morning?: Tina asked, sticking her tongue out.

Hasan thought she was being difficult on purpose so he frowned. In all actuality, Tina was being perfectly serious. Altair had never sent her away last night and she had seen everything.

:Last night, preferably.: Hasan answered sharply.

Tina sighed and wrapped around Hasan's arms to rest against his neck.

:Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? Are you hurting?:

:Just a slight ache.: Hasan shrugged and scooped her up. :I'm going to set you down now.:

Tina huffed. :Obviously.:

While Tina was curling up on Hasan's pillow, Hasan himself was getting ready for the Neville's upcoming birthday party. He combed back his long brown hair before changing into a pair of dark muggle jeans and a grey t-shirt.

:Very dapper!: Tina hissed with one eyelid opened.

Hasan grinned.

.oOo.

A few minutes later, Altair finally shouted up the stairs that Hasan should probably think of waking up now, but by this time, Hasan was all but ready to go and seated on his bed, wondering absently what he should do with the diadem still in his trunk. Hasan could hardly involve Altair in this dilemma. After everything that man had done to him? He could hardly trust Altair again, even if he did care about him deep inside.

Well, there was telling Snape...perhaps. The less people who knew the better, Hasan thought, and Snape already knew about the horcruxes. But what would Snape make of his ability to sense them? That surely wasn't normal! If anyone found out about it, they'd lock him up for sure.

 "Hasan! It's almost time to go! Are you ready?" Altair shouted again.

"Yes. One minute!" Hasan called down, as he grabbed the gift beside him. In all honesty, he didn't really care about Neville. The person he most wanted to see was Luna because she was the only one who saw him. And he was also curious to see Draco; the last vision he had had was at the end of the school year and the Dark Lord seemed pissed enough at Draco's parents to actually assign Draco some dangerous task regarding him. The fact that Draco knew him more than most people didn't help either. With the right help, Draco would be more than able to string together key facts, such as Hasan's presence in the chamber with the stone, and Hasan's role in the chamber of secrets...Still, Draco wasn't an evil person. No one was when you got down to the philosophy of it all. And really, what could Draco possibly do that Hasan couldn't handle? Draco was after all only a contact...a friend? What did the word friend mean anyway? Hasan tried to ignore the bubbling guilt when he thought of the Malfoy dagger. The same dagger which had saved his and Luna's lives down in the chamber of secrets. Surely that was worth something in Draco's honor?

Hasan sighed and descended the stairs.

"Alright. I'm ready." Hasan announced as he entered the salon.

Altair was standing in the room with a large smile on his face.

"Have a nice time, Hasan. I mean it, and then we can celebrate your birthday tomorrow." And with those parting words, a portkey (an old shoe) was thrust into his hands and the world dissolved in a whirl of colors.

Whoosh! A broom zipped overhead, accompanied by excited screams and laughter. Hasan looked around himself but couldn't find the source of the noise behind the great long stalks of wheat.

"Hey, it's Hasan!" Fred yelled as he turned his broom around. Hasan barely had time to run out of the way when Fred had grabbed him from under his arms and carried him rapidly towards a rather lopsided house in the distance.

As they neared the building, Hasan could just make out the bemused faces of George, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Daphne. They waved at him as he approached, smiling faintly back at them. Still hovering on brooms in the field were Ron, Tracey and Lavender. It was amazing how a little sport was able to dislodge the house prejudices from Ron's mind. When ordinarily he would be making faces at the Slytherins when they passed in the halls, he was now having a blast with Tracey, a Slytherin, on his own turf.

"Hey, Hasan, how are you?" Hermione asked warmly as Hasan stumbled to the ground none too gracefully.

"Good as ever, I suppose." Hasan murmured quietly, thinking back to his headache that morning.

"Oh, I've missed you!" Daphne shouted and threw herself at him, wrapping the stiff boy in a hug. "It's been such a long summer!"

Neville, beside her, looked away back onto the field as the other four flew about.

"Hey Hasan." Neville greeted. "How has your summer been so far?"

"Relatively uneventful." Hasan sighed. "And you?"

"Still getting over the events of last year." Neville frowned. "Gran can't stop mentioning it."

"Well of course not!" Hermione shouted. "You saved the school from a basilisk! A breed of snake that was thought to be extinct!"

"Technically anyone can breed one though..." Daphne muttered, causing Neville's lips to quirk up in a smile.

"I, for one, don't blame Mrs. Longbottom! Neville, you were a hero!" Ginny crooned. "Draco and Hasan really owe you their lives."

"I have no doubt they'd save me if our situations were reversed," Neville said confidently.

Oh, if only you knew, Hasan thought with a smirk. He shook his head at the irony, turning his attention back onto the field. Let him believe, it makes no difference.

Suddenly, a shape materialized in the sky above the field before barreling towards the ground with a shout.

"Hey! It's Malfoy!" Daphne shouted.

"Ha! Where's that Malfoy grace now?" Tracey laughed loudly, diving for the blond on her broom. Like Fred had done, Tracey grasped Draco beneath his arms, flying the boy towards the house.

"Tracey!" Draco groaned. "What in Salazar's name-?" Why couldn't Longbottom have set the portkey to a normal location? Why fifty feet above some godforsaken wheat field?

"Draco!" Daphne called with mock sweetness. "Hang on to Tracey now! You're doing so well!"

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes as Tracey landed beside the group. Her strawberry blonde hair fell in windswept tangles down her back, and her eyes were ablaze with mirth.

"That's enough flying for me today!" Tracey grinned.

"Tell me about it!" Draco moaned. He wasn't in the best of moods right now, particularly because it was the first time he was to meet Hasan after...well after the events of the summer.

Hasan knew this and narrowed his eyes. Just because he was determined not to lose Draco as a friend didn't mean he wasn't taking precautions. He still didn't know what exactly the Malfoy heir was told to do for his task, only that anything coming from the Dark Lord probably wasn't in the best interests of everyone involved...

Hasan listened as Draco greeted everyone in a lifeless voice. When he finally came to Hasan, his silver eyes were clouded and unsure.

"Hello Draco." Hasan said in a voice that betrayed nothing.

"Hello Hasan." Draco said flatly.

The two boys were silent for a moment, unable to do much else than stare at the other. To Hasan, Draco looked like he hadn't slept in ages. To anyone who didn't know Draco very well, he would have looked like a rather healthy boy. He had good skin, healthy hair, and a relatively composed demeanor. But Hasan knew him better than that. Draco was nervous, tired, had a halfhearted smile, and a shrug for every other word.

"About last year, Hasan, I'm really sorry." Draco finally mumbled, lips barely moving.

Hasan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "But it was all Neville."

"But you were involved, and I'm sorry." Draco sighed.

Hasan checked his peripheral vision and was pleased to see that no one was paying them any attention. "You're forgiven."

But inside, Hasan was thinking it had just begun.

After some time, Ron, Lavender, and Fred touched ground looking thoroughly flushed.

"So is everyone here?" Ron asked, out of breath.

"Not Luna!" Fred said.

"Nor Theo!"  George added.

"But I want to go inside!" Ginny whined, looking pleadingly at Neville.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Well, we can't let Luna and Theo plummet to the ground! We need to be out here until they arrive."

"Who made the portkeys anyway?" Hermione wondered.

"Don't—"

"—Look at us!" The twins grinned.

Tracey sighed. "Then I suppose we should stay out here."

"How about we have ourselves a game of quidditch?" George asked, "Five on five and one referee?"

"I'll sit out." Hermione offered. "I've never flown before."

"Alrighty then!" George grinned. "Thanks Hermione. So Ron, Lavender, Draco, Fred, and Tracey against Hasan, Daphne, Neville, Ginny and me!'

"Accio quidditch supplies!" Fred yelled, causing ten brooms, a few clubs, and many multicolored balls to speed towards them.

"Let's go over rules!" George announced. "There aren't enough of us to have specific parts, but one goal post will be the fence, and the other will be the shed. If anyone catches the snitch, that team wins. All the quaffles will be twenty points each, okay?"

"Yeah, good idea, oh brother of mine!" Fred whistled.

"Ooh, this'll be fun!" Tracey grinned.

Within seconds, the entire group was in the air, shouting, laughing, and generally trying to knock each other to the ground. Hasan wasn't particularly involved. As a matter of fact, neither was Draco. The blonde seemed to be contemplating something while Hasan just didn't feel like zooming around. While Hasan was pretty much cooped up over the summer, it didn't mean he felt like having the wind tangle his perfect hair. It was so irritating and felt disgusting...and because no one understood his pet peeve he would have to endure the horrors of tangled hair himself, or risk being thought crazy when he complained. So it was that neither boy was particularly interested when the snitch flew right between them.

"Hey, look!" Hermione called from below. "Draco and Hasan have spotted the snitch!"

In that one instant, both boys locked eyes over the fluttering ball and dove! It was wild, unlike anything Hasan had ever felt before. He flattened himself to the Cleansweep 7 as Draco did the same with his battered broom. What was the point of this, Hasan wondered, in this game where nothing came of it? Why was it so essential that he reach the snitch before Malfoy? That he win, that he conquer, that he surpass? His mind couldn't supply an answer. All he knew was that Draco wasn't coming anywhere near his snitch!

The two chased after the ball, flying in loop-de-loops, dives, and high speed chases. Draco had never played a more intense game in his life.

Because it wasn't really the snitch they were after.

The exhilaration came from knowing that they both wanted the same thing at the same time and it was impossible. The mutual feelings of knowing exactly how the other felt. That in one moment, there was an unspoken connection between them.

And that was when Hasan saw something else. He abruptly stopped his broom, glimpsing the apparition for a second before- BAM! Draco sped right into him to the horror of everyone watching.

"Draco!"

"Hasan!"

Hasan was knocked harshly to the left as Draco ricocheted to his right.

"Watch out!" Daphne screamed.

The world seemed to spin in slow motion as Hasan pulled out of the collision. But he couldn't shake the image from his mind...

Everyone came flying over to the pair, wanting to make sure everything was okay. Draco was only rubbing at his arms, telling them that he was fine and that he could handle much more than that.

Hasan simply stared at the patch of land near the forest.

"Hasan, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Neville exclaimed.

"Hasan...?" Fred asked with concern.

"I saw a horse." Hasan informed them lightly.

"We don't have any horses here..." Ginny frowned. "Are you sure?"

The group scanned the field below, frowning as their doubt grew. Was Hasan seeing things? Was someone bewitching him? Was it simply a mistake? Was he lying?

"Hasan, I don't think—" Tracey began quietly.

"Wait, I see it too!" Neville shouted.

"What—?"

"Where, Neville?"

"Huh?" Draco wondered slowly.

"It's dark, well, it's hard to see." Neville told them lamely.

"How come we can't see it?" Lavender demanded.

"Maybe it's a thestral?" Daphne suggested.

"What's a thestral?" Ron asked.

"Only people who have seen death can see it." Tracey said quietly with a shiver. "How about we go inside now? Isn't there a way we can redirect the portkey to the floo network? "

Neville nodded, eyes glued to the spot. "Yes, let's go."

As they dismounted their brooms, Hermione wrapped Draco and Hasan in a large hug. "I can't believe you two! Chasing after some silly ball! You nearly killed each other!"

"Don't be so melodramatic, Hermione!" Lavender sneered. "You wouldn't understand, it's a game for the strong."

Immediately, Hermione whipped around faster than anyone expected she could. "Was that supposed to be clever?" Hermione hissed scathingly. "From the way you were dodging everything up there I'd say you were the weak one."

"Now, now!" Fred cooed. "We can fight later. Right now, Neville needs some chocolate. He saw a thestral!"

"I thought chocolate was for dementors," Tracey said.

Fred shrugged. "Any excuse for chocolate we'll take."

With that, the group went hurried inside, wondering what on earth was going on.

.oOo.

"Tell me what happened again." Hermione demanded as they settled around the Weasley kitchen table.

"Well, Neville saw a thestral." Daphne said calmly.

"No he didn't!" Ginny shouted. "My Neville hasn't been tainted!"                                         

"You haven't see death, have you Neville?" Ron asked somewhat concernedly.

"No! NO! I refuse to believe it! Only the wicked have seen thestrals!" Ginny was shouting randomly, not even bothering to listen.

"Ginny, be reasonable!" George shouted.

"But he couldn't have—!"

"I DID!" Neville screamed. "I did and I do! I'm not saying it was a thestral, Merlin! I'm just saying it was a horse! But do you really think that way, Ginny? Do you think I'm somehow evil? I saw my grandfather die, Ginny. I didn't ask for that! No one asks for that!"

Neville's chest heaved up and down as he looked disgustedly at his girlfriend.  Ginny's bottom lip trembled.

"I think Ginny is under a small misconception." Daphne offered quietly. "Neville didn't murder anyone, he just witnessed death. That's all."

Neville shot her a grateful smile, but his heart was heavy. It was only a misunderstanding, but how many misunderstandings did it take for it to mean that Ginny didn't understand him at all?

"Hey, didn't Hasan see it first?" Fred pointed out.

"I didn't see anyone die." Hasan lied evenly. "It was just a horse."

"But we don't have any..." Ron stubbornly protested again.

"Then perhaps I simply can't remember." Hasan replied rather pointedly. He coughed. "Excuse me. I think I left something outside."

Hasan's mind was working quickly as he neared the door: It made sense, even if the motivation was hidden. Well, he supposed he could just ask her about it later...

He opened the door, took a step outside, and shut it carefully behind him without glancing up once.

"Hello Luna."

Hasan looked up into her large silver eyes. In return, the horse snorted at him, shaking her caramel mane. In the blink of an eye, the beautiful horse transformed into the beautiful girl he knew as Luna Lovegood. She wore her traditional black clothing, with a thick black headband in her blonde hair.

"Hello Hasan!" she grinned wrapping him in a hug. "Isn't it great? Daddy let me transform all summer! He thinks I have a great potential to be a unicorn ambassador!"

Hasan couldn't help but smile at that. Her very presence refreshed him from the horror that was awaiting them inside.

"They all think I've seen a thestral." Hasan informed her with a slight grin. "Neville as well."

"Well, I'm not going to enlighten them!" Luna laughed. "It's not my fault they couldn’t see me!"

"I quite agree." Hasan murmured. He opened the door to the Burrow, letting Luna step inside first. "They're in the kitchen—" He broke off suddenly as a plump, red-haired lady came down the steps. She had a soft, kind face, with slightly thinning hair...and she looked familiar. Hasan tensed, ready to pull Luna aside when he felt Luna grab his hand behind him. Just at that moment, the older woman glanced up and caught them. Her face dropped.

From the kitchen, Hermione could be heard saying, "Wonder what's keeping them..." before Neville, Ginny, Ron, Daphne, and Draco came into the hall to explore. They found Hasan and Luna holding hands, frozen as they stared up at Mrs. Weasley.

"Hey, what's going on?" Daphne wondered curiously.

"I—I know you!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed excitedly. "You were that boy I met in London two years ago!"

"Mum, that's just Hasan!" Ron said exasperatedly, causing the Weasley matriarch to clap her hands over her mouth.

"So you're the one who keeps going on all those adventures!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Ron kept mentioning a certain long-haired young man who hung out with the Gryffindors."

"Mum, I think you have it all wrong!" Ginny whined. "Neville's the one who saved the school twice!"

But Molly ignored her, continuing down the stairs with a warm smile on her face. "Nonsense. I'm sure Neville had to have help sometime. And to think! I knew him before!" At this, Neville flushed deeply knowing he was guilty of not giving Hasan enough credit in their escapades. "You can call me Mrs. Weasley, Hasan. How do you do?"

Hasan smiled, gasping her hand in a firm handshake. "Well, thank you. And I thank you again for helping me that day."

"I hope you found your parents soon after that. Getting lost in London is a horrible experience." Molly sighed.

Draco perked up at that. Parents? His silver eyes narrowed, wondering why Mrs. Weasley was under such a misconception.

Hasan shifted slightly, imperceptible to all except for Luna and Draco. They didn't know that back then, he didn't have any parents. He was little more than an orphan then, and little more than a dreamer. And now? It seemed he had made a complete 360. Now he had a parent he didn't even want. Could Altair still be considered a parent after everything he had done?

"Wow, Hasan! So you knew Mrs. Weasley even before you knew her!" Luna sighed happily. "What a fortuitous happenstance!"

It seemed that this was the first real moment that Molly realized that there were more people in the room. The first time she spotted Draco, hovering just beside Neville, her eyes narrowed slightly as she was reminded of his father. How could she know not to trust them? How could she know the Malfoys weren't just spies? The obvious answer was that she couldn't. And this put her on edge, as any mother would be when her young was threatened.

"Hey, mum, so when's dinner?" Ron asked bluntly, rubbing at his stomach in a definitely unrefined manner. "I'm starving!"

Molly snapped out of her reverie, and refocused on her son. "Just give me a minute..." she muttered quietly, sweeping past them and into the kitchen.

"It shouldn't be long. How about you kids play Exploding Snap in the living room?"

"Oooh! I love that game!" Ginny cried immediately, "Let's go!"

But Hasan had noticed the way Mrs. Weasley made her exit, had noticed the way she seemed to hold Draco in suspicion. But how could Mrs. Weasley, an adult, know about Voldemort's plans? Or perhaps, like Luna had said, it could all just be: fortuitous.

At Ginny's exclamation, the group gathered in the living room. Like the rest of the house, the living room, was shabbily furnished with mismatched chairs and couches. But just like the rest of the house, everything just seemed to fit. It was cozy and sweet, and much friendlier than Grimmauld Place- if Grimmauld Place could even be considered a candidate for homeliness.

Draco sat beside Daphne, who sat beside Neville, then Ginny, Tracey, Hermione, Fred, George, Ron, Lavender, Luna, and Hasan. Sometime during the game, Daphne nudged a bit closer to the blonde and whispered, "You're quieter than usual."

Draco shrugged, but Hasan had noticed it too. Draco was quieter; he was watching.

"I have a lot on my mind is all," Draco muttered.

"Well forget about that! Just for now, we're trying to play a game here and you're acting like a zombie!"

Draco shrugged. "I'm just tired." He glanced up to see if anyone had been listening, and quickly looked down once he accidently locked eyes with Luna. It was eerie, as if that girl could see into his soul, and yet, what could she know? Luna was too light, too good, too innocent. What did she know of his predicament? For now, at least, Draco felt that his secret was safe.

Dinner came swiftly after that, and then cake, and presents. The day was rapidly coming to a close, and birthdays didn't seem as sparkly as they once did...it felt rather heavy. Theo arrived right before dinner, apologizing profusely for losing track of time. He had been out practicing his spells for next year and wasn't paying attention. This lifted the spirit of the party for a while, but even Theo was no match for the combined woes of the group. Hasan was thoughtful.

Molly kept her eyes on Draco. Ginny kept her eyes on Neville, who felt a little odd ever since her thestral comment. Draco remained silent; Daphne worried for him. In the thick of it all, Tracey and Luna smiled at each other and shrugged, while Fred and George never hesitated to crack a joke to revive what they could of the cracking atmosphere.

.oOo.

Right before they all left, however, Luna stood up on the chair and tapped her glass with her spoon. The ringing left everyone staring at her curiously.

"I have one more gift!" Luna announced. "It's for you, Hasan." Luna said sweetly, as if this explained everything.

Neville looked on puzzled, as did everybody else.

"You were born on the same day as me?" Neville asked him.

"No. I was born a day later." Hasan said seriously.

"I can't believe we never knew!" Hermione cried. "Last year when we were celebrating....why didn't you say anything? I've never gotten you a single gift!"

"Well, it's not my birthday until tomorrow..." Hasan said, puzzled. Why was everyone so stunned? It wasn't his birthday, so why would he even mention it? It would be like waking up one day and telling them, Hello! I was born on such and such a day! At best, they would wish you an early birthday. At worst, they would think you were inane. So why bother? He just didn't get it.

Luna held out a small green box to him, with a little silver bow taped to the top.

"Happy early birthday, Hasan!"

The small group of friends echoed the sentiment, strangely excited to see what one bizarre girl would get for one mysterious guy. Hasan took it gingerly, removed the lid, and gasped. Inside was a book, an old yellowing tomb that oozed with magic. The title was inlaid with silver: Mind Magick.

He reached in to pick it up when his hands came across something smooth, something solid, something unreal. He glanced up at Luna and raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's a book, silly!" Luna beamed with her trademark dreamy smile, purposely ignoring his unasked question.

Hasan nodded and prodded the thing again. It was...clothe like, smooth, silvery. With grace, he maneuvered the book out from beneath it, but nearly fell over in his seat when his hand disappeared beneath the fabric. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

Somehow, Luna had gotten Neville's invisibility cloak and given it to him with no one the wiser...but why? And how? And—?

"I hope you enjoy reading it! Unlike a library book, it never needs to be returned because you're the real owner. I hope you understand that." Luna informed him dreamily.

And miraculously, Hasan did understand: the cloak belonged to him...which begged the question: how did Neville get the cloak anyway?

.oOo.

Neville Longbottom sat in a lumpy feather bed in the guestroom of the Burrow. They would return to Grimmauld place in a day (since the Weasley home was obviously a high priority for the Death Eaters to hit), but for now, they would remain. His stomach was happily full, coupled with the fact that Ron was snoring rhythmically beside him, and Neville was well on his way to falling asleep.

He wasn't exactly sure why he felt so...disappointed, though. Maybe it was because he knew he saw a horse today and no one believed him...well except for Hasan, and he didn't pay much attention to him. He did care about the awkward boy, but all he could think about was Ginny. Ginny, the girl who gave him her heart, the girl who promised to see him without the Boy-Who-Lived image on top of him, the girl who...Who condemned him. She accused him without knowledge, without even attempting to understand past her narrow concept of thestrals. Neville turned over in the lumpy bed, smacking his head into the pillow with a huff. Girls, why did they have to be so complicated anyway?

If he were honest with himself, something else was bothering him too...but he didn't fully comprehend it. Then again, it didn't need to make sense—feelings weren't always logical. Still, it was silly. It was just...why was Luna giving Hasan presents on Neville's birthday? It wasn't that he disliked any of them, and well, he wasn't exactly an attention hog, but...it just didn't seem right to him. Why did Hasan get something on his day? And when was Hasan's birthday the day after his anyway? No one told him anything! But he still wasn't sure why this should make him nervous.

He rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling fan, whirling around and around, swirling the warm summer air in a broth. He was nearly asleep before the most peculiar idea struck him:

As the seventh month dies...

.oOo.

September 1^st

Draco Malfoy was prepared when he stepped on the Hogwarts Express. His mother and father had sent him off to this third year of school with a smile, but he knew that beneath their sunny gazes, they were really saying: "Don't screw up." The Dark Lord was counting on him, and failure, as he had told him, was not an option. So, as it was, a slightly stressed Draco Malfoy made his way into a lone compartment.

Hasan was an acquaintance, that was all. Not a friend, certainly not a best friend. The boy was odd, sure, but...he was sorted into Slytherin for a reason. And therefore, perhaps Hasan wasn't who he said he was. Maybe, Hasan was playing him.

Well, Draco thought, two can play this game.

And yet, he stayed put.

Hermione, Theo, Luna, and Hasan sat in one compartment, while Fred, George, Daphne, Ginny, Ron, and Neville sat in the other. As far as he knew, Tracey had walked in with Millicent Bullstrode and had found a seat with Pansy Parkinson. Draco glared out the window, unhappy, and, kind of scared. He was a danger to these people. He couldn’t go and see them. But they weren't his friends!

Draco continued to brood the rest of the train ride...

.oOo.

Meanwhile, Hasan was busy looking through his Mind Magick book. He had read it through already, but he couldn't comprehend half of what was inside. It was complicated. This was his second read. Theo tilted his head over to Hasan, as if to question, "What's up with him?" and Hermione blushed and grinned that Hasan was just being Hasan. Luna, however, didn't seem to mind in the least. She was busy reading herself. The Quibbler, after all, was a quality paper, especially when tilted 180 degrees...

"Hey, did you know there are thestrals at Hogwarts?" Luna queried presently, without removing the Quibbler from in front of her face.

"Ooh! I've read about them!" Hermione squealed, happy to have something to talk about.

"Yeah, but I've never seen one." Theo murmured.

"Well, have you seen someone die?" Hasan asked blandly.

"Er...no." Theo flushed, "But that's not necessarily a bad thing. I'd be happy if I could go my whole life without seeing a single one."

"Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it?" Hasan asked pointedly.

"But then you'd never see how beautiful they are!" Luna cried.

"Beauti—" Theo started, just as Hermione nearly shouted: "You can see them?"

"Yup!" Luna smiled, "My mother died when I was nine. She was quite extraordinary!"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, quite confused as to why Luna was happy about this fact.

"Er..." Hermione began. "I don't mean to be rude but why are you smiling? I'd be devastated if my mother died!"

Wait, Luna was smiling? Hasan put his book down, and turned abruptly to face her. But he saw something else which Hermione didn't see. Respect. Luna was smiling, but her eyes were blazing. Her silver eyes were bright, but tinged with sadness and a lot of pride.

"You can only mourn the dead for so long." Luna explained thoughtfully, "But I think she would want me to think of her as the woman she was, not for the mistake she made. She was a remarkably strong woman. I'm proud she was my mother."

The air was still, silent. Hermione nodded slowly, shivering involuntarily. Something like understanding passed between Hasan and Luna's eyes, and it was palpable to see that Theo and Hermione were holding her in higher regard. Yes, on the outside she was a little unconventional, but she was just as sane as anybody else.

She had depth. For the first time, they got to see that. For Hasan, he fell a little more in love. So naturally, instead of hugging her in comfort, he raised the book back up to his eyes, and remained silent all the way to Hogwarts.

Ah! Young love!

.oOo.

Albus Dumbledore sat at the head table as always, waiting for his lemon drop to melt so that he could "dig in" to the welcome feast. Everything was going as planned: The 1^st years arrived with Minerva leading the way, since Hagrid was temporarily...absent, Moody was settled beside Lupin (who was to be Hagrid's stand-in), and Snape was...being Snape.

He happily folded his hands as he watched the students stream into the hall. He spied Neville Longbottom first, looking extremely proud with the youngest Weasley on his arm. Then he turned his eye towards the Malfoy offspring. He'd be keeping a close eye on them both this year—for the greater good of course. He couldn't afford to have Neville stray from the path he so carefully designed, nor could he accept Lucius' full confession without at least examining the son.

Everything was going fine until a point. And that was when the Sorting Hat began its song:

Many of you take many forms

in hair, in skin, in eyes.

I, for one, appear a tad too drab,

even I realize!

But by the end, I alone

will know of your disguise.

Let's begin by talking of

the great founders four.

Intelligent, beyond a wit,

but I know even more.

Fair Ravenclaw would pick the best,

most cunning and most clever.

But even she would overlook

those bright inside, however.

And Hufflepuff, the sweetest dear,

would not pry past a mumbled "fine"

Respecting privacy and ignorance,

walks an uneasy line.

Third of all is Gryffindor,

who values strength and heart,

but even he, like all the rest,

would let them "act the part"

It seems that only Slytherin

would see the truth within,

hiding in the darkness,

he is the shadow's kin.

So put me on, don't be afraid!

Your lips are sealed, and mine are frayed!

I'll say the house, but I'll be swayed,

and in the end after the trade—

Never will you be betrayed.

Perhaps the only thing that could be said was that Albus Dumbledore was gobsmacked. Disguises? Preposterous!  And what was this about Godric not being fully aware of his house? But one thing in particular niggled the back of his mind: what did this hat know that he didn't? He never considered it before, but every single student had let the hat on their heads, had let them in...Perhaps....Perhaps...the hat was due for a talk.

.oOo.

After dessert, Albus rose to give his welcome speech. The entire hall fell silent, and thousands of curious faces glanced up at him, wondering what he was to do next.

"A very warm welcome to all new and returning students! This year, as you may have noticed, we have a few changes on staff. Allow me to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Auror Moody!" There was a polite smattering of applause from the crowd, as the gruff man stood up, but the Gryffindor table fairly erupted. Most magical families knew Moody as the most dangerous auror alive, however, his often harsh tactics left many people somewhere between respect and fear. While it was clear where the Gryffindors stood, many just didn't know how they felt. Granted, many of those were muggleborn. Moody's electric blue eyes whizzed in its socket, causing more than one person to shudder inside. Even in the magical world, one could say it was damn creepy.

Albus let the crowd die down before gesturing for the next teacher to stand. "Many of you know Professor Lupin as your Defense professor, however, this year he will serve as the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Hagrid, as you might have noticed, is not with us today, nor for the rest of the year due to several family complications. But I'm sure you will enjoy the course just as much with Professor Lupin's unique perspective! Thank you. And now, all's left is to sing the Hogwarts song!"

.oOo.

It was quiet in the headmaster's office. Fawkes was sleeping on his perch, looking a bit old in his gray tinged feathers, when Dumbledore himself came striding in, in eccentric purple robes. It was for the best, he tried to convince himself. It was property of Hogwarts! He was headmaster of Hogwarts! Surely in all of the school's existence, he could not be the first to...lower himself to interrogate a hat.

Minerva would bring it in any moment, he knew, so he contented himself with another lemon drop and twiddling his thumbs. But when Minerva didn't appear for another few minutes, his mind wandered into...undesirable territory.

The horcruxes...if he was going to pull this off: the entire Prophecy mission, then the chances that Voldemort would be there would be...But to kill him, Albus would need the horcruxes in his possession and destroyed. And yet, where were they all?

The ring? Disappeared. The diary? Collecting dust on his top shelf. The cup of Hufflepuff? He guessed that this, along with the locket of Slytherin were locked in some Gringrott's vault. But this was all speculation. From the memories, he could only conclude that there were seven. But what about the others? Something from Ravenclaw? Perhaps the diadem that mysteriously went missing during Riddle's year? And that snake, Nagini, that Lucius had spoken of...it all seemed to fit, a bit, if loosely.

And what did he have to show for it? Nothing. The ring, taken. The diary, destroyed. The cup, missing. The locket, missing. The snake, protected. The diadem, missing. And still there was one more...It almost seemed too elusive, too perfectly out of his grasp, as if someone anticipated this. As if someone knew about the horcruxes and was hunting them down as well, but...no! That was ludicrous!

The door creaked open, a presence hung in the doorway.

"Just set it on the desk, Minerva." he told her quietly.

"..."

Dumbledore turned around, staring into two black eyes.

"Severus? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's starting."

Albus froze.

"What do you mean it's starting?"

"The Resurrection."

"He—but it's so soon!" Albus muttered to himself.

"Indeed, but our stores of Unicorn blood are wearing thin. Rudimentary isn't to be taken forever."

"Speaking of which, Severus? Could you ask our new friends the Malfoys for a small favour?"

Snape was instantly on high alert. "Of what nature?"

"I need access to the Black family vaults."

"The extended family?"

"Yes. I believe the locket of Slytherin and the cup of Hufflepuff remain in one of them."

Snape digested this slowly, then nodded. So Dumbledore was still after the Horcruxes, was he?

"Why not ask the mutt?" Severus queried. "The goblins are a neutral party. I doubt they'll tell..."

"I believe that Voldemort would have stationed a few spies around the bank. I'd rather use Sirius as a last resort, while the Malfoys would not arouse any suspicion on the surface."

Didn't Dumbledore know that everyone was suspected in the Dark Lord's eyes? Unless...wait, of course it was. It was all a test. He was testing them.

"Very well, I shall ask."

"Thank you Severus. And...if you could brew me a Memory Potion?"

Snape's eyes darkened.

"Of course." The Potions Master left as silently as he came, with a heavier heart and a tired mind.

Meanwhile, Albus sat in front of the hat, examining the contours of its folds, the stitching, the threads, though frayed, never untangled. Should he put it on? Or...would that be too elementary? Then again, it was a hat. Who was going to laugh? Right—he flicked his wand and all at once the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses were curtained. Just before the sound barrier formed, however, he could hear their groans of having missed a good show.

He plopped the Sorting hat on his head, reminiscent of his sorting as a child, when a most peculiar thing hit him on his skull. He took off the hat, gently, lifting his hands to grasp the fallen object.

It was a vial.

"What?"

It had no animals on it, no indication that it came from the founders at all. But, he was the headmaster! He was the only one with access and power to manipulate the hat! Upon closer inspection, his old eyes could just barely see an odd wispy substance inside. Something like silver, something like air. His fingers turned it over in his aged hands, wondering, wondering...he felt a bump, some ridges!

He squinted, bringing the glass vial close to his weathered face. On the side there was inscribed:

"Am I half full or half empty?"

What was that supposed to mean? That silly muggle saying, appearing on perhaps one of the most remarkable magical artifacts? Was it a riddle? A trick? Or was someone mocking him? He continued to turn the little glass vial around to read the next words. A magic vial, indeed!

"I hold a solution" and turning it further: "You will know what to do with it." And finally: "Forgive me."

Albus was left dumbfounded, turning this little glass trinket in his hands, wondering what on earth was going on. The next few minutes, he tried every spell he knew. He tried charms, curses, light magic, and a bit of dark...finally, he just gave up and decided to put it in his drawer for safekeeping. He was going to resume his interrogation of the hat, when the hat itself began to speak.

"Ah, always were a Slytherin, weren't you, Albus? You prey upon a hat that can't defend itself when no can see or hear."

"You put me in Gryffindor." Albus protested, caught off guard.

"Yes, because that was what you wanted. I cannot give you what you want now, however. I belong to Hogwarts, not to you."

"But this concerns the entire fate of the Wizarding world! I need to know! Were there any indication of Tom Riddle's fate from his childhood? Are there any threats this year to the students? Should I watch a certain family?"

"STOP IT." For once, the Sorting hat screamed. "Headmaster, there is nothing I can or will ever be able to tell you."

"I see."

Stony faced, Dumbedore set the hat back on top of his shelf to sleep until the next year. He wasn't a bitter person. He was just tired. A little weary. A little suspicious. He had a responsibility to shield the world from Lord Voldemort, and time was running out for him. Perhaps he would call Neville up some days and teach him everything he would need to know. Yes, that would work. At least then, the world would be in capable hands.

What do you think of the vial? What's inside it? How about that book, eh? Fascinating, right? And I wonder what book Altair wants Snape to read O.O How about that new Sorting hat song? I had a great time writing it. Does it make sense?

As promised, here is the vote!!!

Will Mad-Eye Moody survive?

a) No

b) Yes

c) I would like to see him in a coma like stasis

Please review! Thank you!

Next up: Ch 26: Tea Leaves and Bad Mail Service

Chapter Text

Severus was fuming. Brew this! Brew that! Salazar! He was just a simple person! Couldn't Dumbledore just admit his old age and buy anonymously from the pharmacy in Hogsmeade? Couldn't Voldemort kidnap some potion maker in America and have them help in his regeneration?

To put it lightly, Snape was in a pretty foul mood. But most of all, he was upset because he would now have to write to Altair, report to him like some dog, reporting to a third master, asking if it is okay to give Albus a memory potion, if it won't interfere with the plans Altair had laid out...and then if it wasn't? He would have to fake it, of course, and then what? Be suspected of treason? Get carted off to Azkaban, no thank you! And to bother the Malfoys about the vault? Albus just didn't know about timing. The Malfoys were newly inducted! To do this so soon, was like asking them to be suicide bombers on their first and last mission. If Voldemort learned...well, that was the end of them, the end of Draco too.

Severus summoned a piece of parchment and a quill before furiously writing down his thoughts.

"A.

The headmaster has asked me to brew him a memory potion.—"

And this was when a most peculiar owl came rapping at his door. Still bitter, he thrust his hand out, using wandless magic to let in the poor owl. The bird flew in, hooting angrily, but on its leg it held a letter. Severus frowned. It was entirely too late for any mail...he tore it open, thanked the owl with a thrown frog leg, and settled down to read.

"Severus,

I realize I had acted rudely when I turned you out of my house the other day. However, I had something extremely pressing to which I had to attend. To answer some lingering questions, please do not concern yourself with any memory charms I may have used on the headmaster. If you knew, you would understand. I think time has been good to him-he's grown wiser. If my memory charms begin to fray, don't worry. They're actually timed to disintegrate. The memory charms have served their place and if he wishes a memory potion or the like, do not hesitate to aid him. The storm is fast approaching, or so I've heard.

I know it doesn't hearten you to hear this but I actually need your help to accomplish a plan I have long had in action. There is a book I want you to read. I've preordered it for you at Hogsmeade, the receipt is enclosed in the envelope. When you do receive the book, I highly suggest you start reading chapter 7. Do not be upset with me. It was a risk, I know, but the alternative was much worse.

Perhaps, to make it up to you, I'll take you out to lunch sometime in July? How is that?

All my best,

Altair"

.oOo.

A few weak strands of light illuminated the silent corridor. The floor was made of slick black tiles, the walls were dark...it smelled of stale air and silent whispers.

Nagini quite liked this place. She tasted the air once more, trying to determine which way to lead her Master's followers. They tailed her clumsily—they being Bellatrix Lestrange and that Barty fellow—as she slithered silently along. Sharply, she turned left and was able to see a shape disrupting the pattern of shadows on the wall. Ah, yes! Nagini darted forward, fairly gliding along the polished floor. From behind, she heard the two Death Eaters advance. Her mouth began to fill with saliva. There would be food tonight.

"MOODY!" a woman whispered.

And then the hall erupted in light and chaos.

Nagini darted this way and that as the humans distracted each other. Curses ricocheted a good ten minutes, there was a sound of snapping bones.

"Diffindo!" someone shouted, and as blood made the floor slippery beneath her scales, Nagini was able to strike.

.oOo.

Hogwarts had never been good at keeping DADA teachers. The Prophet was never good at keeping secrets. As the rumors flew, all Albus could do to keep from cringing was think about how lucky they had been not to lose Alastor Moody.

The plan discussed over the summer had been loosely started. To entice the Dark Lord to want to hear the prophecy for himself, Albus had to make it seem worth going after. By stationing guards at the Ministry and being seen in public having lunch with Sybill Trelawney, talking of prophecies and the like, he hoped to arouse some curiosity. However, there was a darker reason for Albus to see the prophecy: He wanted to know if he knew it, as well. The wordings of these things were so tricky, that if he misremembered a single line or stanza, there was bound to be trouble.

Ordinarily he would consult his pensieve, for that would surely be untampered with. But more and more was he beginning to suspect a third party interference. Who was it that put the vial, currently around his neck, in the Sorting hat? Who was it that had the access? The power? The respect? If they could do that, then what would stop them from manipulating his memories?

Still, the mission to kill Voldemort wasn't any less prominent. Luring him to the Ministry was still top priority. After all, if they killed him, why would he need to know what the prophecy said anyway? Last night, after the feast, had been Moody's turn to guard the door. Not to raise suspicion as much as it was to scout out the situation. He learned that they had improved the security over the years, having developed a spinning door mechanism enhanced with a unique blend of confundus and compulsion spells to trap the intruder. But it came at a price. For whatever reason, Voldemort was a bit more on edge than normal, which was to be expected. He still didn't have a body yet, according to Severus. The Tom Riddle Albus knew certainly wouldn't want to start at a disadvantage. If he knew the Order was snooping around the Department of Mysteries, then of course it was only prudent to send in a small scouting team. And then of course, Death Eaters, being as unpredictable as they were, the scouting mission turned into more of a homicide trip...

Amelia Bones had died in the hall, throat sliced open with a cutting spell. It was messy, gruesome. Not the Dark Lord's style at all, unless it was to send a message. Amelia's throat was hardly the only thing damaged. Her lungs were crushed, arms mangled. It seemed that the escaped Bellatrix Lestrange had returned to work with all of her earlier finesse.

As if this wasn't enough, Moody had returned with a rather large gash in his leg, claiming that Voldemort's familiar, Nagini, had bitten him. Now this intrigued Albus because if Nagini was a horcrux, then Voldemort certainly wasn't keeping her under a very tight leash. (Well, unless Bellatrix could be considered 'responsible.') If Nagini's life wasn't a concern right now, then perhaps...Oh, Merlin!

The remaining horcuxes were probably the most well protected, best hidden objects in the world...Albus sighed. If the cup and locket were in the Black vaults somewhere, then where would the diadem be? And how could he get close to the snake? And then...was there truly a seventh?

.oOo.

While Albus was musing, Minerva was frowning. How could Albus keep putting people in danger like this? Susan Bones had left school, possibly to never return again! To think, to Albus they were pawns! To people, they were family. She sighed heavily. Well, at least  Alastor made it out alive. She couldn't say she particularly liked his rough antics, but he certainly had earned her respect. He was an able man, even in his old age. Still, that didn't give Albus the right to send him straight into danger! It was hard to ignore the broad white bandages on his thigh. Everywhere she could hear the rumors swirling. Of Moody battling a great cobra. Of Moody close to death in the Ministry. They all figured he was off on Auror business, which he was of course, except they didn't know that the man behind all this suffering was sitting at the center of this staff table, chewing thoughtfully on a lemon drop. One day she swore she was going to incinerate him!

.oOo.

As the rest of the Great Hall exploded over the shocking Daily Prophet article, the Slytherin table looked quite glum. Draco was silent as he picked at his food, stabbing things unnecessarily before taking a swig of pumpkin juice. Hasan bit his lip. Across from them were Daphne and Tracey, wondering what was wrong with them.

"Isn't this so weird? Wasn't Moody here yesterday?" Daphne asked presently. She intended to liven up the table, but only succeeded in eliciting a shrug. "Oh come on, what's gotten into you? Have you gotten into a spat over something?"

Hasan looked up at her dully and forced a smile on his face. "Nothing is wrong." he said convincingly, but inside he was exhausted. Though he slept all night, it was as if he hadn't slept. And he had the most unusual dream too. He was so upset as he dragged himself down to breakfast that he hadn't had a chance to peak at the Daily Prophet yet. It was garbage, of course, but it was good to know what the general public knew. "What was that article about again?"

Tracey sighed, "Really Hasan? We've been here for thirty minutes and you haven't heard?"

"I bet Draco hasn't either." Hasan pointed out, nodding towards his dull friend.

"You've got to be deaf not to." Draco drawled, shaking himself from his reverie. He turned to Hasan slowly, with some obvious reluctance. "And I'm not mad at you either, it's just...sorry, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Good thing we have Divination first." Daphne laughed. "You can sleep right through that."

"So what is the article about?" Hasan pressed, curious now.

"Do you know about the Department of Mysteries?" Draco asked him. Hasan didn't, but he assumed it was something 'mysterious' in the Ministry of Magic. "Well, Mad-Eye Moody was attacked down there last night and Amelia Bones died."

Hasan glanced at the staff table to find that indeed there was a large white bandage on the auror's thigh.

"They say Death Eaters were behind it." Tracey added in a whisper. "So I'd be careful if I were you in DADA today. I heard Moody's got a grudge against the Slytherins as big as Snape's against the Gryffindors. Especially now."

Daphne laughed in her sleeve. "I rather doubt that. He's a respected auror, isn't he?"

"Yeah, before he was attacked." Tracey groaned. "But what was he doing down there anyway?"

Before anyone could respond, there was a bright ringing in the hall- the sound of a spoon tapping against a glass. They all looked up to see the headmaster standing before the podium in light blue robes.

"Good morning!" he said with little more than a quirk of his lips. "As many of you have no doubt heard, one of our staff has indeed been attacked."-his voice, thought Hasan, was exhausted and irritated,-"Thankfully, Professor Moody has escaped with only a scrape and will be able to teach his first day here! In light of this event, I believe we should continue the Dueling Club to ensure our students are prepared for the hard times ahead. This year Professor Flitwick and Professor Moody will take the reigns as your instructors as Professor Lupin and Professor Snape have other obligations. Meeting times will be on the bulletins by the end of the day. Thank you. And remember to enjoy your first day back at Hogwarts!"

With that, the headmaster whirled around with his robes behind him, and the bell rung for class.

.oOo.

 "I knew that Malfoy was bad for us!" Ron Weasley shouted as he, Hermione, Luna, and Neville trudged down to Divination.

"It could just be a coincidence!" Hermione hissed in a low whisper. "And I don't think you should be talking about this here!"

Ron just shrugged. "Neville, what do you think? Bellatrix is Lucius' sister-in-law! He could've just owled her our whole plans!"

"Ronald! Quiet!" Hermione urged again, as they were attracting a few stares.

Just then, the Slytherins came down the corridor-the only corridor, mind you- leading to the trapdoor.

"So why couldn't you sleep last night?" Tracey was asking Draco.

"I don't know. I was just thinking a lot." Draco said tiredly.

Before Hermione could stop him, Ron was going in.

"What? Up contacting your aunt?" Ron snarled, taking a step forward.

Draco looked bewildered. It was way too early in the morning to be fighting with the Gryffindors.

"Ron! That's highly irrational!" Hermione said, tugging on his arm. "How was he supposed to know—" Then she stopped herself. Luckily, Draco didn't seem notice. But Hasan did. Know what? What did they know that the general public didn't? Something wasn't right here.

Hasan watched the Gryffindors, the way they stared at Ron curiously, waiting for a fight. Hermione seemed stricken, Neville looked pale, and Luna?

"Hello Hasan!" Luna smiled happily, somewhere from his left. He spun around, startled, to find the girl softly giggling at him. Even in her uniform she managed to look...unique with a giant white bow in her hair that looked more like a pair of wings.

"Hello Luna." he said, trying to lock his thoughts away for later. Then something occurred to him: "Wait, aren't you a second year?"

"Mmmhmm!" Luna beamed. "Flitwick signed my form to be in Divination since I dropped Care of Magical Creatures. Why would you want to care for creatures anyway? They can care for themselves! That's why they're magical!"

Hasan couldn't help but crack a grin at this logic.

.oOo.

"—okay! Okay, Hermione! I get it, geez!" Ron was whining as he massaged his arm.

Hermione raised her chin. "You better have."

At that moment, the trapdoor came swinging open, releasing a cloud of fog and the smell of incense. There was an immediate bout of coughs, but Hasan needn't have worried because Luna had clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, as well as her own.

"Greetings!" the stringy woman said, blinking behind large circular glasses. "I am Professor Trelwaney and this is Divination!" The fog receded and she thrust out a dramatic arm towards the trapdoor. A stepladder came tumbling down, hitting the floor with a clatter. "Follow me!"

With gusto, the seer crawled back up the opening on a ladder which creaked beneath her weight. Hermione eyed the ladder apprehensively but she was the first to follow. By the time the entire class had made it into the painfully tacky classroom, Trelawney had finished setting up the last of the teacups and had started to take roll. After everyone was marked present, except for Susan Bones which made several people uncomfortable, the mystic turned to face them.

"First, we will begin by looking into our cups! Empty, right? Now watch me and I'll show you what to do."

Hasan was seated at a small table with Luna across from him. On his right, there was a table with Draco and Daphne, Neville and Ron, and Tracey and Hermione. They watched the beetle-eyed woman scoop a pair of tea leaves into her cup and mash them with a crystal pestle. With a flourish, she poured steeping hot water from her wand into the cup, watching in amazement as the tea leaves floated to the surface.

"And now, I will drink!" she announced gulping down the tea with both hands wrapped around it. "Before it is nearly empty, give it three good swirls! One! Two! Three! Thinking of what is foremost in your mind. Then say the spell: 'exaresco' to dry your leaves! Then"-and here she fumbled with her wand and a giant textbook on the ground, as if not knowing to put one down,-"take out the chart in your Divination Texts and try to define as many symbols as possible! For instance...I've got a flag! Which means danger! Oh! No! No! No! It cannot be!"- she held her head in her hands-"One of you will die at the end of the year! YOU!"-and she pointed up randomly, to land on Hermione Granger. "Now you try!"

Well that was as enticing as it got, Draco thought glumly.

"Wait, what?" Hermione screeched. "I'm going to die and that is all you can say?"

The woman blinked behind her glasses. "I do not lie. I am a seer! You, my child, have little time left in this world."

"WHAT?" Hermione repeated. "You pointed randomly! It could have landing on anyone!"

"But it landed on you." the seer said with a mystic expression. "You can choose not to believe in my powers, but I still have them. I sensed as you entered the room that perhaps you did not have the- er- same spiritual connection that I do."

"This is all nonsense!" Hermione cried, standing up. "You can't just declare someone's death like that!"

"Then perhaps I was mistaken," she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders, "though I doubt it. Maybe I pointed to that young man-" She glanced down at her roll call. "-Draco Malfoy. Now look what you have done! You have brought doom upon his head as well!"

The entire bizarreness of the situation would have been funny if she weren't so agonizingly serious.

"Urgh!" Hermione growled. "This is a fool's class! Maybe I don't have your sight, but at least I know when I'm wasting my time. I'm done with this!"

The girl strode over to the trapdoor, opened it, and plunged right through without a ladder.

There was a snap. The class was silent, the teacher in quiet lamentation. Theo rose from his seat and took off towards the opening.

"You're a sick woman!" he shouted, before carefully lowering himself to the ground.

More silence reigned, so that if Hasan strained his ears, he could hear Theo's soft voice comforting her down the corridor.

Back in the classroom, Sybill cocked her head.

"Ooooooh! Didn't you say she was in danger!" Lavender Brown yelled out.

"Yes, indeed I did, Miss Brown." Trelawney smiled triumphantly. "Yes I did. Now let's begin!"

.oOo.

Hermione didn't know what was in worse condition: her ego or her ankle. It had snapped beneath her as she tumbled to the floor, too caught up in her emotions to realize the obvious danger. How could that vile woman go around condemning people like that? Didn't she know about psychology and the self-fulfilling prophecy? Of course something was going to happen if you were on the lookout for it!

The pain was unimaginable. It wasn't that it was the most painful thing in the world as much as it was the most painful thing she had ever experienced. What was she going to do now? Levitate through the halls? She inched towards the wall, trying not to move her foot too much. Luckily, she didn't have to wait long before she heard voices above her. And just as quickly, there was Theo lowering himself to the ground beside her.

"That was uncalled for." Theo said softly. "Trelawney's known for being a little off her rocker, but still. Here, let's get you up." He wrapped a supportive arm around her side, hoisting her up so that she leaned on him. Both their hearts were pounding in unison, although it was really quite unromantic.

"It hurts." Hermione groaned.

"Shh, shh. It's okay. We'll get you down to Madame Pomfrey, okay?"

She nodded shakily.

Fifteen minutes of hopping about later, without having seen a soul, they ran very unexpectedly into Professor Dumbledore. He saw them and his ice blue eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Er, Professor!" Hermione stammered, trying to distance herself from Theo without falling down.

Dumbledore looked them over before smiling. "Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Nott. What happened?"

"I fell." Hermione ground out.

"We're headed to Madame Pomfrey's right now." Theo added.

"Good, good." he said absently, stroking his beard. "Perhaps a pain relieving potion then?" And just like that, he had reached into his robes and proffered them a little vial. Hermione gulped it down, eager to be rid of the pain. Relief washed over her, and she smiled up gratefully.

"Thanks Professor!" she beamed, nearly putting her foot down in its state of numbness.

"Ahh, I wouldn't do that." Dumbledore said. "Maybe Mr. Nott can miss a few more minutes to continue walking you down?"

Theo nodded determinedly.

"And Mr. Nott?" Albus asked, handing him a thin envelope. "Could you please pass this on to Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes, of course." Theo said, "Thanks Professor."

Albus Dumbledore watched them hobble away, too grateful to be suspicious of anything. He wouldn't want the entire school to know that he was giving Mr. Longbottom private lessons after all...

Theo met no one on his way back except for a stony faced Snape. Even though he was a Slytherin, Theo didn't need to be yelled at this early in the morning. He tried to keep to the wall as much as possible, though the man didn't seem to even notice him. As he ran back to class, he hoped that there was nothing terribly important he had missed.

.oOo.

Remus Lupin had a break the first period. Actually, Sirius was teaching his class as it was a few days after the full moon and Lupin was a bit sick...but details, details. He turned his attention towards the Daily Prophet, wondering how they knew all that they did. How did they know the name of Voldemort's familiar? How did they know that it was a cutting curse and not a blasting one? Or simply a muggle knife?

Was there one among their number? Of course there was.

The real question was: Why was Dumbledore so reckless? He knew the plan. They were baiting Voldemort, but it looked as if the game was up. The Dark Lord could go to the Ministry at any time and simply seize the damn prophecy! Well, not without alarms, but clearly the security in the Ministry wasn't that tight.

He sighed. Dumbledore had a lot of ambitious plans this year. Each full moon would not only be his transformation, but it would also be recruiting days. Days in which Remus would go strolling down to the friendliest of werewolf packs and try to sway their allegiance. He shuddered. How was this going to help them at all? What could Albus offer them? Equality? No. And with a simple bite to the neck, the Alpha of any one of them could die, and all their hard work would be lost.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed the rapping at his window.

What? Lupin leapt off the couch and peered outside before opening the latch. A cute little black owl hopped inside, a letter twice the size of it dangling from its feet. It looked familiar, but where had he seen it? The owlery, perhaps, but he couldn't be sure. It was rather unusual. He carefully undid the string, relieving the creature of its burden, wondering all the while what it could be. As soon as he had done this, the owl hooted and then went zipping back out, its job done.

Remus frowned as he unfurled the envelope.

"Sirius Black"

Like a child, he glanced at the door, then back outside where he could see the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid's hut if he squinted. Yes, Sirius was still out there, teaching about Hippogriffs. It wouldn't hurt would it? Just a peak? They were engaged after all, and they weren't expecting anything in the mail. Besides, Sirius was a cleared convict. He had no friends. Who would write to him? He weighed the paper, determining it to be pretty expensive. And the ink! The script! It was clearly from an old pureblood family. Looking at the door once more, he sniffed it, hoping to pick something up, but nothing.

He tore it open.

"Sirius,

I am glad they have finally freed you so that I may write to you. I have little family left. I am old. And yet, there is so much work to be done. I am writing today because I have a need of two family heirlooms which I believe rightfully belong to me. It is difficult to trace the family tree, even if it has been carefully pruned, but you may ask Gringott's to send you a copy of the will.

Let me be frank, I ask for the mirrors. You see, I will be gone for a while and have use of them to contact several good friends of mine. Please send them as soon as possible as I am not sure when I'll be leaving. Simply call the owl called Raven and she'll know what to do.

Best of Luck,

Altair Dean Castell

P.S. Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you all the best.

.oOo.

Remus stared at the paper for a good ten minutes. What in the world did he just read? By the tone of the message, Lupin would hazard a guess that this was some distant relative on the expansive family of Black. But that wasn't what interested him. No. It was the name: Altair Castell.

Perhaps if Snape hadn't shown interest in Hasan last year, he wouldn't have even noticed, but the fact remained: this was a family that warranted suspicion. After all, what child's boggart was Harry Potter? If the letter was true, then that would mean that Hasan was related to Sirius! Yeah, like all the pureblood families...Remus walked slowly towards the couch and sank back down.

It was a simple letter really. It wasn't as if Sirius was keeping secrets from him, right? Besides, he seemed friendly enough. He knew that Sirius was engaged! And, wait, he knew that Sirius, out of the entire family of Black, had the mirrors which James and Sirius had used during detention. But no one knew about them! Maybe he had looked them up at Gringott's? But there weren't any tracking charms on them—they were family heirlooms with ancient charms. They didn't need to be kept track of.

So then...how? A man named Castell. Related to Sirius. With knowledge only one who once met them would know...and then had sent the letter rater purposefully while Remus was not supposed to be in the school? Something wasn't right, and Remus was going to figure out what it was, hopefully before Sirius found out and did something rash...

Glancing at the clock, he had about an hour before Sirius' next class was finished. Enough time to floo to Grimmauld, check the family tree, and come back. He peeked out the window with a nervous excitement, before grabbing a dash of powder and shouting into the flames.

.oOo.

Hasan stared down at his teacup with a delicate frown on his face. His brown hair fell into his dull jade eyes as he tried to make out what his tea leaves said about him. It was most peculiar. There was a single mass of tea leaves, strewn together in a semi ring about the bottom.

Snake.

A shudder ran through him as his dream suddenly resurfaced. It didn't make any logical sense, but for some reason, he couldn't let it go. In it, he was a snake, or rather, he saw what the snake saw, and if it was the same snake...then he must have been Nagini. The sixth, Hasan remembered. But just like last time, it hadn't seemed like a dream. In fact, he knew it wasn't. But the alternative was too horrible to imagine. If he was the snake, then he was the one to bite Moody, the one to attack Amelia Bones before Bellatrix sliced her head off...

Hasan turned his eyes away from the cup, sickened to the pit of his stomach. He had murdered someone. Two people, if that old man was to be counted. But this too was irrational. Just as irrational as the snake showing up bold and full, in his teacup.

"Er, I' going to the loo." Hasan said hastily, placing his cup down a little too fast to be called natural.

Luna stared after him with a serene expression on her face. It was obvious something was bothering him, but for now, all Luna could do was give him space. At least, that was what she determined from her teacup. Tea leaves could tell a lot, she thought. Perhaps they would show her something about Hasan?

When the boy didn't return for many minutes, Luna couldn’t take it anymore. She discreetly snatched his cup from the other side and gasped.

How odd: a horseshoe.

.oOo.

Hasan was terrified. What could that mean for him? That he was going to keep attacking people? That people shouldn't trust him because he was lying to them all? Attacking people in his sleep? Life would be so much simpler if he had someone he could talk to. But there wasn't anyone!

Altair? Luna? Even Snape. His life boiled down to half formed relationships and several hidden personas. How much longer before he cracked? When Lucius' memories would pour over into his? When Voldemort would finally gain possession of his mind?

He ran down the hall, not caring if anyone, ghost or portrait, saw him acting as if the very ground he walked on was in flames. Finally he had reached somewhere near the Hospital Wing, as it was also somewhere near the bathrooms. He had determined to just walk to the loo, splash water on his face, and leave. But then something interesting happened. He saw Snape run!

Oh, he was dignified and terrifying while doing it, but it was so odd that Hasan couldn't help but be intrigued. The man was headed towards the Hospital Wing. It wouldn't be any extra effort to lie and say he was there to see Hermione, would it? His head still pounded, but he needed to do something to get his mind off of the snake. Off of his dreams. With a steady resolve, he started towards the infirmary.

.oOo.

Severus Snape was having a very bad day. It didn't start off this way, no, but then a small little owl was tapping at his door...Raven (he sneered the name). Right. As enlightening as it was to learn Altair's secret life, he was still an idiot. What part of being discreet didn't he understand? He was a dead man for Salazar's sake! He couldn't be pulling stunts like this, contacting Severus, a Death Eater in the public eye!

There were two things strapped to the bird. A letter and a most interesting looking box. He made to grab the letter, but the little black owl bit him on the finger, hard enough to draw blood. Salazar, could he not catch a break? With a sigh, he untied the little box and immediately, the bird took flight. But what about the letter? Where was it going? He ran to the window, watching as the puny creature zoomed to a nearby office. And not just any office: The Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

Severus sighed. Well, there was no way he was going to involve Sirius in this secret. Let Altair do what he wanted. It was his arse on the line. Turning his attention back towards the box, he wondered what could be inside. The outside was plain looking—worn black leather with a thin silver rim. The top was impressed with the message: Just in case things don't go as planned. Well that was bloody useful! Severus scoffed, attempting to pry it open, but surprisingly the little thing didn't budge!

"Alohomora!"

Dammit!

After going through his repertoire of semi-dark spells, he started delving into the dark arts. But after several minutes of trying to open what was probably a worthless trinket case, he finally gave up. He was about to sit down in frustration when, without warning, his fireplace roared to life.

"Severus!" Poppy called urgently from the flames. "I need a pain relieving potion! One that isn't strong enough to knock out an adult hippogriff, thank you! And fast!"

Severus leapt out of his seat. What the hell had happened? It was way too early in the school year for them to start killing themselves! Children, he muttered. Summoning a few stoppered flasks of the foul smelling potion, he made his way towards the hospital wing. He saw no one but Theodore Nott as he walked, which was good, because he didn't have time to deduct points at the moment, and he certainly didn't want his reputation ruined if he let someone go. And indeed it would have been a nice leisurely walk had it not been for the searing pain in his arm...

"Fuck," he muttered. To hell with dignity! He started running the last stretch towards the infirmary, ignoring the jolts of pain in his arm. The bastard was just going to have to wait. And with that, Severus picked up the pace.

"Ah, Severus!" Madame Pomfrey smiled, turning around. As she saw him, her eyes hardened. "He's calling you, isn't he?" she asked. No need to ask who He was. She saw it in the way his hands shook, in the way his eyes seemed to darken with storm clouds.

"I need to leave." he said shortly.

She licked her lips nervously. "I could have summoned them. I didn't know." she said as he transfigured his Death Eater's robes and mask.

He shook his head. "It was while I was walking. There was nothing I could do." Which was true enough. The anti-apparition wards were lifted in the infirmary for times when Severus left the meetings a little worse for wear.

It was as he was fastening his cloak that he realized that the impertinent know-it-all, Hermione Granger, was on the bed, seemingly knocked out. What was wrong with him? When had he been so indiscreet?

"There's no one who can hear us." Poppy said as if reading his thoughts. "Now go." Seemingly alone, Poppy sighed. "I wish he wouldn't do that."

There was silence as Hasan leaned against the wall, letting the information sink in. Severus Snape was a Death Eater. Yes, but he knew this already, didn't he? It shouldn't have been a surprise. But it worried him. Hadn't he just seen what the Death Eaters were capable of first hand? What if the snake attacked Severus next? What if the Dark Lord attacked Severus next?

When he felt he had stood outside long enough, he slowly made his way back to class, only to have the bell ring for second period. Perhaps DADA would liven the mood...

.oOo.

Draco was in a bad mood. Not only had his teacup prophesized some great impending doom, but he was now walking to Defense Class. With Moody. With the man who was flay him alive! As his stomach twisted itself in knots, he got a pretty good feeling of how the Gryffindors felt in Snape's presence.

"Excited?" Theo asked shakily.

Draco shrugged. "As ever."

Somewhere down the hall, Hasan had joined up with them with a pensive look on his face.

"Where were you?" Neville asked him.

"Loo," he mumbled, but Draco would have bet anything he was lying. "Do you know much about Alastor Moody?" Hasan asked presently.

"Oh, well, he..." Neville started. "I mean, he put a lot of Death Eaters behind bars. Like Bellatrix Lestrange." he finished offhandedly.

"Your aunt, right?" Hasan asked Draco, remembering the crazy woman from his vision.

Draco nodded. "I barely know her though." he answered tonelessly, so it was impossible to tell whether he was happy or not about this fact. Hasan would venture to guess happy. Seeing Bellatrix trapped in Azkaban and then again last night, there was no other conclusion to be made except that she was a totally deranged witch.

Neville, so used to putting up a hardened front, couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. Hasan filed this away for later pondering as the door suddenly burst open.

"ENTER!" a gruff voice commanded them. Everyone looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Hasan shrugged. With a wary eye, he entered the darkened classroom. There was nothing striking at first, but then a sound at his right caught his attention. Without time to react, his reflexes took over.

"PROTEGO!" Hasan yelled, thrusting out a hand. The power behind his shield blasted several desks and chairs back into the wall, but not the lone man, standing wand outstretched to his right. This man, with his spasmodic electric blue eye was grinning.

"Bravo." he smiled. "Constant vigilance! Alright, in, in! What's your name, young man?"

Hasan regarded this man warily as the rest of the class poked their heads inside. They gasped as they took in the destruction, looking between the auror and the quiet Slytherin.

"Hasan Castell." he answered softly, trying to conceal his reluctance. Even though everyone else had overlooked the fact he shared the surname of a long dead Death Eater, there was no telling what this top auror had heard or not.

"Castell?" Moody repeated tightly. "I can't say I've heard that name very recently."

"Je suis de France." he said hastily, not needing someone else on his case.

The professor nodded. "So you are..."

By this time, the class had trickled in, each staring at the clustered desks in wonder. With a sweep of his hand, Moody had set the desks and chairs to rights, before walking purposely to the front of the room. He took role quickly, constantly pacing before a veiled table. When he was finished, he turned to the class and flicked his wand in the blink of an eye.

BOOM!

Nothing in particular exploded, causing several people to fall over in their seats.

"As you have already seen," he entered into his lecture smoothly, as if no great thing had just happened, "constant vigilance is the rule of this classroom. You can't let your guard down even for a second! Longbottom!" he barked.

The boy gulped before controlling his face. "Yes, sir?"

"You of all people should know what happens when constant vigilance is not met. I believe your parents, both formidable aurors, had three days to leave their dwelling, and yet they did not, causing them to die at the hand of the Dark Lord."

People gasped at the nonchalant way Moody was unveiling his past, wondering if perhaps the Longbottoms hadn't had it coming to them. Everyone knew that if the Dark Lord was after you, you got the hell away from him.

"The Dark Lord didn't kill them." Neville interrupted him in a strong voice. "The Dark Lord was hiding like the coward he was. He sent his Death Eaters to do the job for him."

Moody grinned. "Did he now? Then I assume you know what spells they used to do the job." With a twitch of his mouth he asked the class: "Who here knows of the unforgiveables?"

Hasan knew, but obviously he wasn't about to jump up and beg to answer. For one thing, it was a little eerie how much this man knew about the Longbottoms. Was he there? Who could say? Because the truth was that Harry was the one to stop the Dark Lord...he never stopped to think about Neville as a legitimate target. The other reason he didn't answer was that he already performed a wandless shield charm faster than a celebrated auror. He really didn't need suspicion coming his way. So he just sat there, wondering who would answer.

"If only Hermione were here." Theo whispered teasingly.

Hasan tilted his head to consider him. Hadn't Nott come from a Dark family too? Wait, wasn't the whole Slytherin House full of Death Eater spawn? No wonder no one was answering. With the future still unstable, no one needed to be labeled loyal to one side or the other.

"No one?" Moody repeated. "Not even you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Everyone turned to watch Draco in the back of the room shake his head.

"Come now. We don't need to keep up this pretense." Moody told them calmly as his magical eye whizzed around. "Knowledge is nothing to be ashamed of. Especially in a classroom, safe under Dumbledore's watchful eye."

Finally, Pansy raised her hand. "I think we’ve all heard of the Killing Curse, professor."

The man's aged face seemed to light up. "Ah! Wonderful contribution Miss Parkinson. But although it’s an unforgivable, it isn't necessarily Dark—"

"What do you mean?" Lavender interrupted stupidly. "It kills! Obviously it's dark magic!"

"Miss Brown, I believe?" Moody asked. "Can you describe exactly the effects of the Avada Kedavra?"

The girl swallowed. "I—Well the person dies. He has no time to run or shield himself! It's not a fair fight!"

"Thank you Miss Brown. Now who would like to explain the effects of a common fourth year spell, incendio? Perhaps Miss Greengrass can enlighten us?"

"It conjures fire, sir."

"And what do you suppose would happen to a body under incendio? Do you think it would be very painful? What about the cutting charm? Diffindo? I am simply trying to make the point that not everything is black and white. Yes, Mr. Castell?"

Hasan was very well aware of the famed philosophical grey area, but clearly there was a reason why some spells were banned.

"Professor Moody, with all due respect, can't you shield any one of those spells? The Killing curse goes through all shields, all wards, and all ancient protections. I don't think we can disregard that. That's the difference between Dark and Light, whether it's morally fair, and the mass majority dictates the standards."

The class processed this for a minute. Even Draco had perked up and was paying full attention now.

"Well-reasoned, Mr. Castell." Moody finally said. "But I think you misunderstood the point. I am not trying to justify the Dark Arts, and yes, I admit they are dark. I only wish to point out that the Light isn't as pure as they make themselves out to be. We use what we must. But since you seem to be so knowledgeable, perhaps you can tell us the name of another unforgiveable?"

"The Cruciatus," Hasan said without hesitation. From out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neville shudder very slightly. Even if he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, maybe he had his own personal story? Hasan hadn't questioned it before, but now he was sure there was something more to him.

"The Cruciatous curse is the torturer's friend. It causes an illusion of hot, sharp knives gnawing, biting, stabbing, and slicing into your flesh. It gives no reprieve, and often cannot be shielding against once starting to an overshot nervous system. And finally, perhaps Mr. Malfoy? The final unforgiveable if you please?"

"Imperius." he whispered.

"Louder, if you please?"

"Imperius." Draco repeated, stronger this time. "It allows another to dictate your will. Like a voice in the back of your mind. The victim has no control, even if they know what's happening."

"Very much like your parents?" Moody prodded maliciously. "Yes, the claims upon claims of the imperius curse."

Draco gave him a steely glare.

"Professor?" Neville piped up. "How can we defend against them if we can't cast protego?"

"That, Mr. Longbottom, is exactly why you're here." His magical eye swept the crowd before his mouth split into a smile. "The only way to protect against these spells is to experience them and learn how to combat them. One more question before we start today's demonstration: What do you propose I have concealed beneath this cloth?"

And at that moment, they saw it thrashing.

Chapter Text

"Late."

"My Lord, I am sorry!"

"CRUCIO!"                                        

He did not scream. He wasn't a stranger to pain anymore. He knew he came late, from his own damned reluctance to return to his master, and his own duty to Poppy as the resident Potions Master. Still, it didn't make it any easier.

As Severus lay gasping on the floor, he focused solely on maintaining his Occlumency shields. There was too much he knew already. If Voldemort had even an inkling that he was conspiring with a dead man he would be a dead man. When he opened his eyes, it was to see the cold marble floor. Somehow he had fallen.

"Severusssss, rise." his Lord commanded.

He did so, staring up at the great ugly body, dressed in black upon a dark wooden chair. He wasn't sure what emotion was strongest: disgust or loathing or fear. It was probably an unhealthy combination of all three.

"What news has the old wizard gathered from last night's events?" he questioned softly.

"Only what was in the Daily Prophet, my Lord." Snape began. "The Bones child has left the school and Dumbledore has insisted that Moody continue to teach."

For some reason, the monster seemed pleased by this.

"And do you know why there were guards at the door?" he continued in that same soft tone.

"My Lord?"

"I am asking why the old coot has decided to take an interest in the prophecy just now. He has had people stationed there for a week. I have only acted recently."

What could he say? That they were luring him to the prophecy? Absolutely not! Dumbledore's memories? But then, that would make him seem old and weak. A prime target!

"My Lord, Dumbledore does not have confidence in his army. He believes the only thing that can save the Light is Neville Longbottom and that the secret to his success lies in the prophecy."

Voldemort nodded slightly. The thing was, Voldemort knew it was really Harry Potter he had tried to kill. So did Severus. But Severus didn't know that Voldemort knew, and neither did the Dark Lord. But then, did Dumbledore know the truth? Because even if he knew Neville was less than useless, he would want to prepare him for his role...and even a paper bag trained by Dumbledore was rather dangerous.

"Has the Longbottom boy shown any signs of this great power?"

"His only remarkable talent lies in Herbology, my Lord. I rather doubt he will be a threat to you."

"Indeed. You did well, my loyal servant." he hissed. "Lucius, Bellatrix, you may enter."

From behind him, two large doors swung open to reveal the two in Death Eater robes.

Lucius chanced a glance at him, before returning his eyes to the Dark Lord. While Lucius and Bellatrix knew of Draco's task, Severus did not (or so Voldemort believed), and even then, only Lucius knew of the details of his plan. But Bellatrix knew something the others didn't, which he was now only too smug to reveal.

"Yesterday, as you have all heard, Amelia Bones and Alastor Moody were attacked in the Department of Mysteries."

Bellatrix nearly swooned. He remembered her contribution!

"However, that was not the only purpose I had sent you there. You see, people can be weapons as much as prophecies can be weapons. Dumbledore had sent his guards to protect the prophecy, but who was there to protect the guards?"

Severus felt his heart drop. He knew where this was going and didn't much want to get into all the gory details.

"The Moody currently inside Hogwarts isn't Alastor Moody, Severus. It is Barty Crouch Junior. A loyal Death Eater I have freed from Azkaban. The real Moody is contained." he added maliciously.

Severus was glad he wore a mask so that no one could see his jaw drop. What in Salazar's name-? It was like he was hit over the head with the whomping willow. Whatever he had expected the Dark Lord to say, it was most certainly not that a Death Eater roamed amongst the children. No wonder Moody had acted so differently from yesterday. While he was ordinarily so gruff but somewhat levelheaded, today he was angry, very vocal and even likeable. Well of course he would have to be to blend in. Dammit! In all his years of spying, how had he not suspected sooner? Granted they only had breakfast together but still...

Lucius too was feeling a bit uneasy. This homicidal psychopath was in the same building as his Draco!

"My intention for him is to help young Draco in his task. You see, Severus, I need to test Crouch just as much as I need to test Draco. Before this war is over, I will need the aid of my spy and would rather not, ah, use up my resources too quickly."

Even as the Dark Lord smiled maliciously, Severus couldn't help but ask,-

"My Lord, I saw Moody today with a bandage around his leg. It practically radiated Dark Magic—the kind that can't be reproduced..." he ventured.

"Ahh yes...What good is a servant if they can't take a little pain?" (Snape gulped) "It was essential for the story to work. How else would Moody be able to escape alive if my Death Eaters hadn’t left him alone because he was being handled by Nagini? And senile as he is, Dumbledore would suspect in an instant if the wound wasn't authentic."

"It was quite a sight, my Lord!" Bellatrix giggled. "His screams were so loud! I think Nagini scared him!"

"So you see, Lucius," Voldemort smiled over the witch's insanity, "Draco is in quite good hands."

.oOo.

Hasan sensed it immediately when the silencing charms were waved away. There was something beneath that cloth, thrashing desperately, but stuck to the table with a sticking charm.

"One more question before we start today's demonstration: What do you propose I have concealed beneath this cloth?"

And that's when Hasan heard it. The hissing.

:What isss thisss place?:

:Shhh, perhapsss thiss human will let usss go.:

:My tail feelsss broken!:

Hasan froze, jade green eyes locked onto the table. Snakes! What was Moody doing with snakes? Where had he get them? Why had he gotten them?

Their hisses became more frantic, tinged with fear as the students got louder.

"It's moving!" Pansy shouted.

"It's alive?"

"Oh, Merlin!"

:What isss that?: one of the snakes hissed.

Hasan frowned, unsure of what to do. He still wasn't sure what was planned, but given their chat on the unforgiveables, it was rather hard not to guess. His eyes met Moody's over the exclamations of the crowd and there was unmistakable cruelness in them. With a flourish, the professor vanished the pall covering the reptiles, much to the horror of the class.

There was immediate silence.

Draco Malfoy's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Snakes? Snakes? He was giving a demonstration on snakes! It was a rather tactless attack at the Slytherins, but perhaps he deserved some allowance because his leg had been gauged out by Voldemort's pet yesterday...even Draco had to admit that Nagini made him uneasy.

"The unforgiveables, as Mr. Longbottom has pointed out, are curses which times make necessary to defend against. The imperious curse, for example, renders its victim useless to the whims of the castor." Here, Moody pointed his wand very carefully at the greenish viper and whispered: "Imperio!"

The snake stopped its thrashing at once, adopting instead a hazy look which gave it the appearance of being drugged.

"As I have previously stated, the unforgivables are hardly the most terrible of spells. Simple spells like incendio can do just as much damage." With another wave of his wand, a small fire sprung up from the fireplace which was located at the front of the room, but to the left of the table.

Draco wasn't in the habit of showing weakness, but right now, vomiting did not seem like a bad idea. He could sense the tension in the room, the way the Slytherins were looking uneasily at each other, the way the Gryffindors hid their virgin eyes, not used to seeing gore of any kind.

Everyone watched, entranced, as the snake was made to slither down the table leg, across the cold stone floor, and to the fire roaring in the corner.

"STOP! This is inhumane!" Daphne screamed, unable to contain herself.

"Humane?" Moody asked. "War is not humane. Everything I do is for this war." And he made the snake crawl forwards to its death. The fire seemed to burn brighter as the snake's nose reached the flames. The flames licked against its scales and for a moment, the imperious curse wavered.

:HELP!: the snake hissed, before the tail followed the head and the body became charcoal. To make a theoretical point, the snake had turned to ash.

Moody returned his attention to the class, a smile on his face. "Who wants to choose the next curse? You, Miss Davis?"

Tracey seemed to shrink away. She shook her head rigorously.

"Please, we are all waiting. It is either the cruciatous or the killing curse—what was that? I didn't quite catch that."

"The cruciatous." Tracey repeated boldly.

The breath hitched in Hasan's throat. The fire was horrible enough in itself. This? He had seen its work on humans. He did not wish to see it again. Neville was having similar thoughts. Though he had never been privy to an actual torture session, he got the general gist and had an innate phobia of the cruciatous. Ever since his gran had told him the story of his parents, why they were confined to St. Mungos for insanity, Neville had imagined the scene over and over. Had Bellatrix laughed as she was known to do? Had they tried to run? To protect themselves? Had they known? Had they faced it, knowing the consequences. Knowing that Neville would grow up without them?

"Very good, Miss Davis." Moody flicked his wand at the second viper with a muttered crucio. The change was instantaneous. The poor creature began to flail on the desk, beating its muscular tail against the wood. It twisted uncontrollably as unseeable knives sliced through its scales, stabbing the soft underbelly and every sensitive part of its anatomy. It writhed unnaturally, screaming all the while in a language only Hasan could understand.

:Save me: it choked out as Moody smiled. Neville couldn't watch. He buried his face in his hands and plopped his head firmly on the desk. He refused to watch this torture. Draco, meanwhile, was staring with a growing feeling of nausea. This was what his aunt did so well, what his father did, what his family was known for. What he was destined to do.

"Stop it." Daphne said again, obviously set on protesting. "Stop it! Can't you see it's bothering him!" At that, the entire class turned to Neville Longbottom, the boy fated to rescue them all, who had turned ghastly pale.

"It wouldn't be the cruciatous if it didn't bother some." Moody replied gruffly without any feeling. Hasan remained silent.

"Stop it! STOP IT!" Daphne yelled as the hissing became louder.

:It hurts! It hurts me so much!:

"Professor!" Tracey pleaded.

Finally, the snake was released. The girls calmed. The snake heaved large breaths, still shaking from the aftermath of torture, unable to control its own body.

"Mr. Longbottom, perhaps you can tell me how I should dispose of this?" Moody prodded. "Does the killing curse seem so dark now? Out of all the spells to take life, the killing curse is the most humane. What do you think, Mr. Longbottom? The killing curse, or find some other way? Perhaps even continue until it becomes so insane it can't tell the difference between life and death."

Neville lifted his head and promptly gulped. What could he do? The man was right. The killing curse was the only way.

"—Professor," Hasan interrupted, "This snake only needs to be disposed of, am I correct, sir?"

The teacher shuffled a bit before reluctantly nodding.

"Then I'll take him." he said.

"You'll what?" Neville repeated stupidly.

Moody was thinking much the same thing. "Mr. Castell, this is a specimen for education, not some house pet. I simply cannot allow it to leave this room."

"Then your objective isn't to dispose of her is it? It is to make your points through suffering. Professor Moody, please say what you mean, because you're talking in riddles."

A prevailing hush swept over the class. Hasan Castell, the quiet boy in the Snake House was standing up a teacher. Not one of them could recall a time in which they heard him say much of anything. Granted, Lupin and his memory charms had a hand in that, but as far as anyone was aware, this boy was coming out of nowhere.  What did they know about him really? And how did he know the snake was a female?

Moody's mouth twisted into a grim line. "Detention, Mr. Castell. This weekend, for speaking out of turn and challenging a teacher's methods."

The class was astonished as Hasan nodded once before standing up straight and tall. His eyes gleamed dangerously as he walked towards the professor. No, past the professor, to the snake. But before he got there, Moody raised his wand with a shout—

"Avada Kedavra!"

Draco was about to warn Hasan, but it was too late. The spell was cast, the green light flashing before their eyes. Moody was breathing heavily. Hasan turned steadily to face him. Then, the jade eyed boy took a step back revealing a sizzling black hole where the snake had been. The snake wasn't dead. It had vanished, letting the killing curse burn through the table. And Hasan was the one to vanish it, without a single word spoken or a wand waved, or even a hand. But no one knew this, that Hasan had magicked it away—they could only suspect. It had happened so quickly, and everyone was half wincing before the incident.

"Class dismissed!" Moody barked harshly. "Everyone out!" He glared at Hasan before he said in a softer tone, "Mr. Malfoy, if you could stay for a moment?"

.oOo.

Hasan was surprised that he was allowed to leave but didn't want to question it. What he did was thoughtless, reckless, stupid beyond belief. But what that man did was thoughtless, reckless, and stupid beyond belief. Not only was it illegal, but several Light and Dark families were in that room, polar opposites in the war, and with this Light wizard practicing Dark magic, he was rather unpopular all around.

No one noticed except Malfoy that the snake had gone missing. They were all too stunned and scared to pay much attention to the little details. But it was not lost on the Malfoy heir how impossible it had been for that snake to have escaped death. Yet, there was only one snake remaining on the table, hissing in a tongue that Draco didn't understand.

"Mr. Malfoy." Moody began as soon as the class was empty, the door locked and warded. "As you no doubt know, curse scars never go away," and with that, Moody shoved up his sleeve to reveal a mark so recognizable it was burned into boy's brain. With that one gesture, Draco's world was flipped upside down. This man was not Moody. This man was not Moody. This man, right in front of him, was NOT Moody. He was a Death Eater. "My name is Barty Crouch Jr."

Somehow, a bloody Death Eater had made it under Dumbledore's nose and into the school. For some reason, his blood ran cold. He was supposed to be happy he knew. Support was what he needed most, but this seemed more like babysitting. The Dark Lord obviously didn't trust him and planted this imposter here to keep an eye on him.

"You're not the only one being tested here, Mr. Malfoy." Barty said as if knowing his thoughts (but he didn't because Draco's occlumecy shield were up) "You see, my success depends on your success. And I've only been here a day, and already I've noticed some things which are not conductive to what the Dark Lord wants. You can't spy if you withdraw within yourself. Whatever little misgivings you've got better get sorted out soon because the Dark Lord WILL NOT tolerate failure. I suggest you start working on your attitude today, boy. I'll be watching." Moody's face hardened. "And we all know what happens when someone fails, don't you?" The snake on the table seemed to tense as if in understanding, before Moody pointed his wand carefully at the creature. "Try not to let this be you—AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Draco left the room shaking.

.oOo.

Draco Malfoy wasn't sure about several things. As he made to sit down at the Slytherin table for dinner, he wasn't sure where to sit. Moody basically blackmailed him into making nice with his own friends who he was going to betray...and if that wasn't complicated he didn't know what was.

"Hey Hasan, Daphne, Tracey..."

"Hi Draco!" the girls beamed.

He forced a smile before sidling in beside Hasan. "So where's Theo?" he asked.

Hasan shrugged, "Most likely in the Hospital Wing with Hermione. I didn't realize they were that close."

Tracey giggled. "Hasan, were you not here at all last year? Didn't you see them snog in the halls before?"

Hasan shook his head. "When did this happen? And why would I watch if I happened across them?"

Daphne sighed bemused, "Honestly, Hasan. For someone who nearly blew up the Defense classroom you sure don't notice much."

"Speaking of which," Draco cut in, trying to be social. "Where'd that snake go anyway?"

"In that damned fire," Daphne hissed, "I hope Moody burns in Hell so he knows what it feels like."

"No, I meant the other snake." Draco prodded, noticing how Hasan suddenly became very interested in his mashed potatoes.

"The second one?" Tracey repeated, "Moody killed it with the killing curse."

"Look who needs to pay attention now," Draco laughed hollowly, "It was gone—spelled away."

Daphne looked disgruntled, "Hasan, you were up there, what did you see?"

The jade eyed boy who had tried so hard not to be noticed was dragged into the conversation. "There was a snake on the table after he cast the spell." Hasan said, referring to the third one.

Draco sighed. At this point, the boy was being purposely ambiguous, but why? Did they reach that point when Hasan no longer trusted him? Or did Hasan know he was digging for clues?

"I meant the second one," Draco nearly growled.

"Geez, take it easy," Theo said over his shoulder.

"Theo!" Daphne greeted. "You came right on time! Draco thinks the second snake disappeared. What do you think?"

Theo frowned. "To be honest, I wasn't really paying attention."

"How could you not be paying attention, Theodore Nott!" Tracey admonished. "That was the creepiest class I've ever gone to!"

"Well, the same reason I came late just now. Did you know when I went to the Hospital Wing, Hermione was unconscious?"

Hasan's attention was immediately grabbed. "Unconscious? But she only fell, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought!" Theo cried, "Anyway, Madame Pomfrey assured me it was a side effect of the potion she was drinking. Seems like Hermione got hurt worse than I thought. Who the hell has a trapdoor as the entrance to their classroom? Anyway, have you seen Longbottom? I'm supposed to give him something. Oh, never mind, I found him. See you guys!"

The boy spoke so fast that by the time he had made it to Neville's side, he was doubled over and out of breath. Hasan wondered what type of note Theo could have for Neville, but Hasan guessed that it was a teacher's note and not one of his own, because obviously Theo could just talk to Neville if he ever wanted to tell him something. And by the way Neville's eyes flickered up to the head table, where Dumbledore was gazing at him knowingly, Hasan would hazard a guess the note came from Dumbledore. But why?

"Anyway," Draco tried again, "the snake?"

Daphne poked her carrots. "Just give it up Draco. That class was bloody awful. I'm praying I forget it."

Tracey agreed and the table was silent. But Hasan noticed that Draco seemed extremely disappointed, especially when the blond stole a glance at the infamous Defense professor, Alastor Moody. Hasan wondered absently as he chewed his food why Severus looked so uncomfortable to be seated next to Moody, when that morning there was but a little dislike and mutual respect.

.oOo.

Neville walked into the Great Hall flanked by Ginny and Ron. He was still shaken up from Defense class, but was feeling slightly better after Herbology. There was just something very soothing in the way he could care for a little life that wasn't his own.

"Neville!" Ginny whined, "I'm going to try out for quidditch this year! Are you?"

Neville flushed. He wasn't athletic by any means and the whole school knew it. How could they forget their first Quidditch demonstration when Neville managed to injure himself without doing anything?

"Eh, yeah, maybe." Neville mumbled.

"Ah, it's okay." Ron said in partial understanding, "But you don't need to feel sorry for those Slytherins. Having you on our team wouldn't be an unfair advantage. Even if you are the Boy-Who-Lived!"

Neville flushed even deeper. "Er, that's not exactly it."

At that moment, Nott had caught up with them, panting wildly as he clutched his kneecaps.

"Hey...Neville." he smiled tiredly. Ginny tried not to sneer as Ron looked stupidly curious. "I got something for you, from Dumbledore." he said, fishing the letter from his bag.

Neville took it carefully, before discreetly catching the headmaster's eye over crowd. What could the man want from him? Not that he wasn't pleased. No—Neville had gotten used to his ill-built fame over the months and owed it all to Professor Dumbledore. What, with the right training, Neville was convinced he could be just as good as any missing Harry Potter. As Moody had so tactfully shown them today, all it really took was a well-aimed Avada Kedavra and poof! Voldemort would be dead!

"Hey, what's it say, mate?" Ron asked him.

"I need to meet with Dumbledore about something." Neville paraphrased quickly. "I need to leave now. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Nott had stayed to hear this last bit before slinking back to the Slytherin table. Ginny and Ron just shrugged and watched him leave.

"Hmm, isn't it so great we're friends with the Boy-Who-Lived?" Ginny mused.

"Yeah," Ron said. "When he finally defeats You-Know-Who, we'll be on the front cover of the Daily Prophet too!"

Meanwhile, Neville was racing down the corridor when he spotted Luna wandering aimlessly in the front hall.

"Er, Luna, what are you doing?" Neville asked, trying to be kind, but failing. He sounded like he had just witnessed the stupidest thing in his life and that Luna was an idiot. Part of this was attributed to his very emotion state (seeing those snakes being tortured didn't really lift one's spirit), and his rather haughty feeling of importance (Dumbledore wanted to see him! Him!)

"I'm making sure I know where the castle is!" she answered happily, sending him an angelic smile.

"But you're IN that castle." Neville informed her slowly as if she couldn't understand the simplest of concepts.

Luna pouted, "You're no fun! Of course I'm in the castle, silly. But that's not going to help me find it again when I leave. Hey, you could come with me and help me find my way back!"

Neville looked rather doubtful. "I have to meet Professor Dumbledore right now. Maybe next time." he said absently.

Luna nodded sweetly. "You're welcome to come at any time."

Neville waved, uncaring. "Bye Luna."

The girl walked towards the front door. "Good-bye, Mr. Longbottom!"

.oOo.

Upon reaching the gargoyles which guarded the headmaster's office, Dumbledore seemed to magically appear from the shadows.

"How did you do that, sir?" Neville asked in wonder.

Albus smiled. "Just a trick I've picked up. Come, come. Gumdrops!"

Neville wasn't exactly sure what he was in for when he had received that special invitation. Perhaps he was going to learn advanced spells, or maybe healing techniques, or even how to duel!

"Sir?" he asked politely, "Aren't people going to wonder why you're not at dinner?"

The old man seemed to smile at this as he bumbled around the office. "That would go for you too, Mr. Longbottom, but I would hope the polyjuice potion would be enough to fool them."

"Polyjuice potion, sir?" Neville wondered.

The headmaster nodded to himself, still rummaging around his overstuffed drawers. "Yes, it allows the drinker to become anyone he wants—in appearance only. The man who you saw at the head table was not me, I assure you. His name is Kingsley Shacklebolt and he's an auror who is helping me to protect this school."

"But why does he need to be in disguise? If he's an auror, he's allowed to be here...right?"

"Yes in theory," Dumbledore sighed, "But there is some merit to having extra protection that isn't out in the open."

"But M-moody—" Neville stammered.

"Yes, well every bit of protection we can get matters!"

Neville frowned as the headmaster avoided his question, wondering if there wasn't some other reason Kingsley was here in disguise. Why would Dumbledore need a decoy? Was he afraid of being murdered? Did he need to leave the castle unattended at times? He was peeved that the headmaster didn't think highly enough of him to trust him. He was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived after all! But Neville was still too excited about receiving special lessons that he didn't seem much to care. And besides, he didn't want to offend the headmaster, his guiding mentor.

"Okay, sir. So what am I going to be learning?"

"Lots and lots!" Albus smiled, just as his hand grasped something on the back of his shelf. "Ah, got it!"

Neville tried not to wonder why the most magical man on earth did not use a simple accio.

"What is that, sir?" Neville queried as the headmaster held up a dusty crystal vial.

"Memories." Dumbledore explained. "My memories to be precise. Neville, I am not lying when I say this war rests on the shoulders of everyone, especially you. These memories are the key to winning the war. Tonight, we are going to take a trip down memory lane to Tom Riddle's past."

"Tom Riddle, sir?"

Albus's keen blue eyes flickered towards him. "You do recall the diary, do you not, Neville?"

"The diary...of Tom Riddle?" Neville wildly guessed.

"Yes, I believe I have it right here, ah! Here it is!" The headmaster pulled out the tattered remains of a book which had the most peculiar hole singed through it. "This, my dear boy, is why we're here. Why Voldemort exists. Why everything has happened the way it has. These memories will explain exactly how it came to pass."

Neville nodded as if he understood, but inside he was in deep thought. Though he took credit for the two times he had defeated Voldemort in school, he knew that the others had been there with him. If he didn't know what this diary was, then maybe they did? And this thought unsettled him, because if the diary truly was that important, then that would mean...his friends played a bigger role than he did! And that just wasn't possible!

Albus waved his arm, causing a large stone basin to float from his glass cabinet to his desk.  He poured the contents of the vial inside and waited. Neville watched as ghostlike figures moved around the little bowl. Without really thinking, he leaned forward...

The memories he saw had one thing in common: a young, handsome boy named Tom Riddle. To think that this charismatic youth would become the world's most feared villain was almost ludicrous seeing the child for the first time. Neville didn't detect the signs which Albus would later regret not acting on. Neville didn't see the way the young boy thirsted for power, for revenge, and for blood. He didn't understand the significance of the trophies. What was muggle junk compared to a magical diary which sucked out life? But they were the same, and this was the idea which Albus was trying to impress.

"How many are there?" Neville asked. "Did he really make more than one?"

"I believe he succeeded in making six, although he had originally planned to create seven. Even one is too many and enough to unsettle anyone in mind and in magic."

"So how do you destroy them?"

Albus gave him a thoughtful look. "Since you cannot remember that night in the Chamber of Secrets last year, I am going to assume this diary was destroyed with Basilisk venom. Unfortunately, the entrance to the chamber seems to have disappeared again so that's not an option..."

The headmaster looked at him hopefully, as if Neville would suddenly remember the entrance. Neville tried not to show his discomfort at this. Sure, he had been there, but he couldn’t remember a thing. How much had he really done? And who had really done it? He knew he was significant in the eyes of the wizarding world, but he began to doubt his own power.

"Sir...I've been meaning to ask you, if I could destroy this horcrux, then why did we ever search for Harry Potter? It seems that anyone can destroy Voldemort."

"Precisely!" Dumbledore smiled, glad that Neville was finally thinking. "Anyone can destroy the horcruxes!"

Neville sighed in relief. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he got close to killing Voldemort, only to have his farce fall apart when the man either didn’t die or he didn't have the power to kill him. "Thank you, headmaster."

It was only after the Longbottom boy had left that Albus began to think of what would happen after the horcruxes were destroyed. Would they need the prophesized child after all? Albus tried not to think about the fact that Harry Potter was missing and most likely dead. He also tried not to think about who had lost him...

.oOo.

Severus Snape wasn't exactly sure why Altair thought it necessary to preorder a book for him instead of just sending him a copy, but at least it got him out of the castle for a while. He wasn't too comfortable in the castle now, knowing that Barty Crouch Junior was really playing Alastor Moody. He supposed he should tell Dumbledore about this sooner or later, but right now he was just focused on the task ahead. Besides, he already had a throbbing headache from the Dark Lord's little meeting that morning and didn't need Dumbledore yelling at him too.

Strolling down to Tomes and Scrolls wrapped in a black cloak, Severus was on high alert bordering on paranoid. The shop itself was small from the outside, but magic had enlarged the space inside so that it surpassed the size of Hogwarts' library. The man at the counter had medium length grey hair with strands of brown. He also had a few crooked teeth and heavy golden spectacles.

As soon as Severus entered, the man's head popped up from his book and he greeted his new customer with a large smile.

"What can I do for you?"

Severus slid him the receipt, curious himself as to what the book could be.

"Ah!" the man said, "yes, that's a good one. An old one." He grabbed the book from the shelf behind him, labelled with a red tag. "And expensive too! Mind Magick! It's glad to know the practice isn't out of date."

Practice? Mind Magick? He was now more intrigued than ever.

"Well here you go!" the man said, wrapping it in brown paper. "Enjoy!"

Snape returned to the castle feeling giddy almost. What secrets would this book contain? And what was so special about chapter 7? By the time Snape arrived at the school, most of the student population was already at dinner, but apparently not all as Miss Lovegood was wandering the halls. He made a beeline for his chambers, determined not to deal with any of the cretins before he knew what was inside his book.

He locked his rooms with a muttered spell before settling at his desk and unwrapping it. The cover was brand new in black with silver letters painted over it. He flipped to the table of contents and searched down for chapter 7. Surprisingly, there were only seven chapters which made up the heavy tome:

Chapter 1: The Practice of Legilimency

Chapter 2: The Art of Occlumency

Chapter 3: The Personalities of Portraits

Chapter 4: Retaining Sense as an Animagus

Chapter 5: Obliviation not Oblivion

Chapter 6: Pensieves of Stone

Chapter 7: Pensieves of Flesh

Pensieves of Flesh...Severus suppressed a shudder. To think that this was ever commonly practiced or known of was scary in itself. Flipping to the correct page, Snape began to read...

.oOo.

By the time the first day had ended, Hasan was exhausted. He hadn't gotten a very good night's sleep thanks to the Dark Lord, and then his tealeaves had to go remind him of his dream again. Just to pile Pelion on Ossa, Moody had not only ambushed him, but he had tortured several snakes as well! So by the time he had gotten to dinner, he really couldn't take any more of Draco's infuriating behavior.

He was constantly reminded of the war through his dreams, through his classmates, and through his classes. It made his stomach churn, his heart speed up. It was as if he were poisoning himself with stress, thinking of everything he had to do, everything he was expected to do, and everything he hadn't done. Excusing himself shortly from the Slytherin table, he trudged to his dormitory, hoping for some peace and quiet, just to think.

This feeling? It was anxiety which made his fists clench on air, his breathing to come out labored despite any opposing force—it was a part of who he was, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let his weakness show. What he really needed was to be prepared. He couldn't take another day with Moody acting like a complete bastard even if he was supposedly an auror, and though he hated to admit it, he was extremely pained by how Draco was treating him. He needed to do something.

It was a compulsion which led him to Professor Snape's door without regret or shame. He knocked quickly and evenly, determined for something although he wasn't sure what.

.oOo.

Severus started as he saw Hasan Castell at his door. Words from the book whirred around in his mind: danger, tethered, draining, power. Not wanting anyone to see, he immediately invited the boy inside.

"Hasan-!" Severus greeted in surprise.

"I need your help!" Hasan blurted.

"My...help?" He quirked a supercilious eyebrow, wondering what the boy could have gotten himself into this time. It was way too early in the year for another life and death problem.

"Yes! I don't know! Just, teach me! I need to defeat the Dark Lord! I'm running out of time!"

Severus wasn't sure what brought this on, but he knew that Hasan's feelings weren't totally out of place. Dangerous times were drawing near, especially with the Dark Lord's resurrection coming up.

"Hasan, just tell me what's happening."

The Castell boy took a deep breath before beginning. "I had another vision this morning- of the attack of Professor Moody. It was dark and I couldn't see much but...I was that snake again—Nagini and oh, god, I bit him!"

"It's alright, it wasn't you. Go on, Hasan."

"Later in the day, I had Defense Against the Dark Arts and Professor Moody showed us the three unforgiveable curses"-Snape sucked in a breath-"and it made me realize that this is war. No matter if something is illegal or not, people are going to be using it. Severus, we're not ready! The whole class was ready to fall in tears or vomit. I was ready to fall into tears and vomit! I could barely handle a snake getting killed, what if it’s a person? And then Draco...I know you're his godfather and all, but he's been given a task, you know he has. I knew the Dark Lord was returning, but I didn't imagine I'd be scrutinized all year by my...classmates! (He refused to call Draco his friend.) When this war does happen, I want to be prepared!" He was nearly hysterical at this point, close to breaking down. It was so different from his normal apathy that Severus wasn't sure what to do. Cuddle him? Pat his back? Say there, there? Hasan could not have gone to a worse person.

"Hasan, listen to me. You're right that we need to be as ready as we can for this war, but you don't need to feel this stressed. The Dark Lord doesn't even have a fully functioning body as of yet, and I should know. We will make sure you are prepared, Hasan. I promised this last year and I am a man of my word. I'll teach you Occlumency to prevent these visions. Is that alright?"

The boy looked down, very much relieved. He suddenly felt very vulnerable and a little stupid for opening up like that. The Professor didn't need his ranting on top of what he must have gone through today. Why could he have just asked for the damn Occlumency lessons in the first place without all the drama and emotion?

Severus sensed something was wrong again and sighed. "Perhaps we should take a break before we start. Besides, there is something I think we need to talk about."

Hasan nodded, feeling exhausted but much better than he had. He settled on the offered couch as Severus ordered biscuits and tea from a house elf.

"Your father contacted me." Severus began, earning a suspicious look from the boy.  "He...he told me about the memories." Severus was good at lying, he had to be, but he felt uneasy about lying now. Altair did tell him about the memories, but only after Severus had provoked him with news of him being Harry Potter.

"What did he say?" Hasan asked apathetically, reverted to his previous state as if to steady himself.

"He sent me this-" Here, Severus summoned the large black tome from his table, already opened to the page about Extraction. "Mind Magick by Omnia."

Hasan recognized the cover with a start, "That's- Luna got that for me for my birthday. My father sent you that?"

Snape nodded. "Have you read it yet?"

"Twice over, but I don't understand everything," he admitted.

"Your father said to read chapter seven. Pensieves of the Flesh. There is a way to extract the memories from your mind and return them to the original source, but it is complicated. I have only had time to read the introduction and already it has mentioned several things which I do not have immediately at my disposal. Although we can't start today, I thought I should tell you that there is a way."

"Thank you." Hasan murmured. He reached forward for a biscuit and chewed it thoughtfully. At least something was going right.

"Now about Occlumency," Severus began. "It's an art form, a very useful art form which can protect you. It shields the mind from those who will attempt to take information from it through Legilimency. People have different ways of shielding their thoughts. Some people prefer traps, or walls, or even oceans. Whatever you choose, the main objective is to lock that person out."

"What do you think of, Severus?" Hasan enquired.

"At this point, I try not to think." he admitted, "But usually it is because I am otherwise occupied"-with the cruciatus, he almost added. "You don't need to pick one just yet. Usually it is developed through trial and error, so we won't know what works best for you until you actually try it."

Hasan finished his biscuit and took a sip of tea. Severus was too exhausted for food. "I want to try it." Hasan told him determinedly.

"Alright, but I just want to warn you that I may see some things inside your head while you 'get the hang of it'. Rest assured, I am not trying to dig for anything that will hurt you, but sometimes your mind will shove those memories to the forefront as they are the memories which you would most want to protect."

"I understand."

Severus nodded. He wasn't sure if he would suffer any damage entering into a mind already occupied by Lucius and the Dark Lord, but he knew that Hasan desperately needed this protection.

"On three...One...Two...Three- Legilimens!"

Chapter Text

A/N: Just to be clear, Severus and Hasan do not know that Hasan is a horcrux. Both are aware of Hasan and the Dark Lord's connection, but not what it entails. Also, I had fake Moody give Hasan detention last chapter...I didn't write the scene, but let's just assume it happened. So sorry about that *runs and hides* I hope this chapter will make up for it.

"On three...One...Two...Three- Legilimens!"

Severus wasn't exactly sure what he expected inside the mind of Hasan Castell. Maybe a three door hotel, a door for each Hasan, the Dark Lord, and Lucius' memories. He was pleasantly surprised that he didn't suffer any immediate backlash from the already cluttered mind, as he had expected. It didn't mean that Hasan's mind was entirely average either. As a spy and Master Legilimens, Severus Snape had been in a lot of minds, and this was certainly a unique one. All around him were images, just floating in space, and then there were lists and file cabinets, dichotomous keys and flowcharts. But just like any other mind, he was compelled to dive into the first memory which approached him.

Severus suddenly found himself in a never ending sea of dried grass. He heard giggling off to his right, but it was decidedly too high-pitched and girlish to be Hasan's. But where could he be if not with his friends? Turning around, Severus spotted a few children playing a muggle game that involved running, but still no Hasan.

:That's alright. They don't want me anyway.:

Snape froze. He knew that hissing anywhere- it was parseltongue. He looked down, and there by his feet, was a small kneeling boy with jet black, decidedly unruly hair. The boy was bent nearly to the ground where several little green snakes had gathered in a mass.

:Don't feel sssad, sssspeaker. You will leave thisss place sssomeday.: one of the snakes hiseed. At least, Severus assumed they were hissing, because the thing was, he could understand it. Every word. Granted, there was a very strong sibilant undertone to the whole thing, but Severus could understand it! Perhaps because he was in Hasan's mind and Hasan could understand it? Or maybe Hasan could understand it because the Dark Lord had a connection to his mind?

While Severus was thinking, he hadn't noticed when a shadow fell over the small boy, causing the snakes to scatter.

"Mr. Potter, what do you think you are doing, crouching on the ground like that?"

Severus nearly jumped. He had forgotten that before Hogwarts, the boy was known by his proper name.

"I-I was talking with the snakes, Mrs. Haydn." Hasan said.

"What a vivid imagination that boy has." the woman hummed bemused.

"I'm not imagining it!" Hasan protested weakly.

"I'm sure you're not. Why don't you run along and play with your peers?"

"But they spoke to me..." Hasan repeated lamely.

"Okay, the joke isn't funny anymore. Stop lying and moping around. If you don't want to play at least do something productive like cleaning the hall."

As the woman walked off, Hasan continued to stare at the ground, his face as emotionless as marble. Had it not been for some internal power which seemed to radiate around Severus, he would never have known the uncontrollable fury the boy felt at not being believed. The feeling was unbearable! Severus strained to avoid it as it took over his body, making him feel every bit as indignant as the memory felt, but it was no use. Severus' own empathy had done that for him. What a terrible way to be raised, Severus thought. At least at his house, magic was openly known. As the emotions mounted, he could feel some resistance from Hasan's mind. Without warning, he was flung out of that memory, back into the inner space, before a new image floated by...

His feet touched dried grass again, (did the field never end?) This time he knew to look down first. Predictably, there was the boy, kneeling again, but this time by the stream and wait, was that...? The Lord of the Rings? But! The boy couldn't be more than ten, surely-! Looking at the boy, or rather, the back of his head, Severus was surprised to find the hair still black and wild. That soon changed, however, as the boy opened his mouth. At first, Severus couldn't make out what he was saying, but then everything was so crystal clear: Hasan. The boy was saying Hasan. And in the blink of an eyelid, the Potter double had transformed into the statuelike Hasan of today. Hasan was clearly engrossed with his reflection, so Severus decided to bend over the stream to look too. Medium-length brown hair framed his face in which were set two dull jade eyes like gemstones, and in these gemstones were fear. Clearly panicked, the boy squeezed shut his eyes and pop! He changed back! And then, back again! It was as the boy lifted himself from the grass that Severus felt pressure against his own head.

One second, Severus was looking at a stream, the next into the soulless eyes of Hasan himself. His eyes were uncharacteristically wide, telling of his surprise and wariness. Severus knew that Hasan saw everything that he did, and it was then expected that Hasan would feel a bit cut open and vulnerable.

"That was at Penelope's House, I take it?"

Hasan began to nod before giving him a shrewd look. "How do you know what it's called?"

Severus himself stiffened. "I had gone down there before to...verify your identity."

"Oh, I see."

"Did you have many friends there?" Severus asked, getting down to business.

Hasan shrugged. "The snakes I suppose. Well, you saw. No one wanted to play with me because they sensed I was...different from them."

"That doesn't mean that you did anything wrong though." Severus said. "It just means they were all too young and stupid to—"

"No, I think they sensed rightly." Hasan told him dully. "You see, weird things happened when I was around, moving objects, changing colors...I would have been wary too."

"But do you see that they were wrong to estrange you?"

"I estranged them just as much, Severus." he turned his dull gaze to his Head of House. "I don't need your pity. I remember when I was in my first year here and I fought the Dark Lord. I told him he could go right ahead and kill Neville. Obviously I didn't think he would, I was daring him, see? But I said it...I'm not surprised they weren't my friends."

Severus was a bit shocked to say the least. Although he never expected anything less from a Slytherin, he did from Hasan- the boy was a walking moral book. All even, tit for tat, not someone Severus would have marked as a, well, as a Slytherin.

"The Dark Lord brings out the worst in all us." Snape confessed quietly, "but let us talk about the other memory I saw. Your appearance change."

"It's not a glamour." Hasan said evenly. "I don't know what it is."

"Can you take it down?" Snape pressed. Hasan shook his head.

"It's a part of me now. I've tried to switch back before but I can't."

"Why did you hide your true appearance in the first place? Why change your name? Your identity? You were raised in an orphanage with no inkling of your fame, yes?"

Again, the boy nodded. "I just prefer it this way. I like being invisible. Did you know I dreamed of finding Heliotrope*?"

"I understand your desire to not be seen, especially now in the war, but I want you to know that you shouldn't hide from shame...of anything."

Hasan shrugged. "If they find me"- he didn't need to say that they included Dumbledore and the rest of the world-"then I'll never be able to hide again. And even besides that, Altair won't be able to hide either. But why did I do it at first? It felt safer. If I was disliked, then it didn’t feel as bad before they disliked me for someone who was not me. Whether or not I feel any personal shame shouldn't make a difference."

"But it does!" Severus stressed. "You come down here telling me you're overwhelmed about a war that hasn't officially started yet and expect me to believe that there is nothing at all going on internally? Hasan, listen to me. We need to resolve this! The Dark Lord will be returning. I am helping him to return, so believe me when I say it will happen. Your body is under magical stress from maintaining those memories, from the Dark Lord who came emit visions and emotions into your mind, and from upholding your appearance. Forgive me if I don't think this is healthy for anyone, least of all a thirteen year old boy who will be found out eventually! We need to deal with this now!"

Hasan was on his feet, eyes blazing. "Fine then! I'm angry at myself! No one liked me as a child! Draco is helping in my slaughter! Neville's been brainwashed! I feel so used and underappreciated for being Altair's damned pensieve! I'm deathly afraid my appearance will fall! I'm afraid of Moody! Of Dumbledore! Don't you think I tried to control my appearance? How do you think I felt when I learned I couldn't? That I couldn't change back even if I wanted to? That I had to keep this a secret from Altair! From my dad! I want to be known so badly! But I don't want to give into my own selfish weakness! I hate this! I hate this! I'm so weak!"

Severus waited for the boy to calm down before continuing. "You are not weak. You are experiencing normal human emotions"-the boy scoffed-"and yes it is human and therefore completely normal. Without emotions we become like Voldemort. Draco is doing what he has to do to survive. The situation is unfortunate, but we need to go on. But not tonight, not if you don't want to."

Hasan bit his lip. "Once more. Please. I need to get stronger."

"Very well then," Severus sighed, "One...two...three...Legilimens!"

All at once it seemed that the two were sucked into another world. A world that was orblike and not exactly in color. Severus felt Hasan's presence right alongside him, which was unlike anything he had ever experience before...The world was very large as he was very small. His scales glided smoothly over the seamless floor, forked tongue tasting the world through cardboard dull scents. Light flickered on the walls, licking audibly at the still air. Behind were footsteps, ahead were vibrations telling of others...Severus recognized the place immediately. It was the Department of Mysterious. And Hasan was there. And they were both trapped in the body of a –Nagini! Swiftly did the body approach the two sentinels who guarded an unknown door. And then—

Lights! Curses! Shouts! Nagini lunged, sinking her great teeth, now Severus' teeth cleanly through the magical cloths and into the tasty warm flesh of Moody. The auror was not to be dragged down however, and continued to slash his wand through the air. Nagini injected her poison, intent upon maiming, not killing. Her large body wrestled with the large male before he was overtaken by the witch and other wizard. They moved so swiftly, that if not for Bellatrix's mad laughter and his insight from the Dark Lord, Severus would not have been able to identify them. Quickly did he begin to envelope the helpless creature who struggled futilely in her hold. But just as the Prophet had reported, it was the cutting spell, not Nagini which took the auror's life.

And just like that, they were back in the office. Hasan was breathing hard, large gulping breaths which caused his body his shudder. Severus wasn't in any better condition, having never in his life witnessed a murder from a snake's point of view.

"What was that?" Severus all but demanded when they had both caught their breaths. Hearing about Draco was nice and all, but he would have thought that Hasan put higher priority in real things. Dangerous, life determining things! Why had Hasan not mentioned that he was privy to the murder of Amelia Bones and the capture of Moody!

"A vision." Hasan murmured. "It was in more detail than before...I dreamed of it this morning. It's true isn't it?"

Severus ran a tired hand through his greasy hair. "Unfortunately. Next time you have a vision you are to report to me immediately, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Hasan said. "But why were people even there in the first place?"

"I believe that is a discussion for another day." Severus told him tiredly. "This only proves that we need to develop your occlumency skills."

"But isn't it useful, in a way, I mean?" Hasan pressed. "Now we know what the Dark Lord is up to."

"I think it is dangerous to use such a channel. You forget that it is only logical he can use it too. He could see what you do, perhaps. And the Dark Lord is not above trickery. How would you be able to discern a vision from a trap?"

"I see." Hasan conceded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Severus. For...listening."

"You're welcome—"

But no sooner had he said this before there was a knock on the door.

"Severus, we need to talk."

.oOo.

"OH!" Daphne screamed as they entered the common room.

"What is it, Daphne?" Tracey asked.

"S-snake!"

"What? Where?" Theo asked.

"I swear I just saw it! There! By the couch!"

The third year Slytherins gaped as a little green snake slithered about their common room.

"Is that? Is that the snake that Moody had?" someone piped up.

"It can't be, can it? Well, what do we do with it?"

Everyone was huddled against the doorway, unsure of whether it was okay to enter or not.

"Oh, for Salazar's sake!" Draco huffed, shouldering his way to the front. "Stupefy!"

The poor reptile froze in its tracks, and everyone advanced.

"It certainly looks like the snake Moody had. Should we return it?" Pansy asked.

Tracey shot her a dirty look. "That's as bad as killing it ourselves."

"So what are we supposed to do with it?" Millicent Bulstrode demanded. "We can't just keep it here, can we?"

"Well, we are the House of the Snakes..." Daphne said with a grin.

"Oooh! It could be like a mascot!" one of the second years said.

"It seems harmless. Otherwise Moody wouldn't have used it."

"But who'd take care of it?" someone asked.

"We should ask Snape, shouldn't we?"

"I hardly think that it's any of his business," Blaise said, tapping it with his foot. "Besides, we don't even know how to take care of it."

The Slytherins stood in silence, heads tilted in thought.

.oOo.

"Severus, we need to talk." Lupin's strained voice drifted from the other side of the door.

Severus shot a worried glance at Hasan as Lupin knocked again, frantically. Hasan, not wanting to be left out of what would most likely be an interesting conversation, shut his eyes...and became a fox. His black furry tail scrambled behind the couch earning a nod of approval from Snape.

In measured strides, Severus crossed the threshold of his chambers and yanked open the door. Lupin stood there uneasily, holding a letter in his hand. Quickly, Severus' eyes assessed the parchment, only to find predictably that it must have been sent by Altair. Knowing he was in for a long explanation, he invited the werewolf inside and redid the wards.

"What is it, Remus?" Severus asked nonchalantly.

"Is there somewhere we can sit?" the wolf queried. "This might be difficult to take in."

Internally, Severus was agreeing. "Have a seat," he offered, gesturing weakly to the sitting area. The wolf chose to sit on the edge of a small couch, while Severus chose the armchair. The Potions Master waited patiently for Remus to gather his nerve.

"Have you- Have you ever heard of another Castell?"

Severus considered this for a moment before nodding.

"Right well...this man, Altair Castell, sent me this letter, or rather, he sent Sirius this letter."

"Having fidelity problems already, Remus?" Severus mocked tonelessly, wanting to get to the point.

Lupin shot him a glare. "At first I was suspicious as to why it was sent at a time when I would be otherwise occupied. After reading it though, I think I know why. This involves the Black family."

Severus nodded slowly. He wasn't sure why of all times Altair decided to branch out now. Was he never afraid for his life?

"He asked for the mirrors."

"The mirrors?"

"Yes, James and Sirius used to use them to speak to each other in different detentions. I had no idea how this man, Altair, could have known about them unless he truly was part of the family. So I went to headquarters and found him on the tree. You wouldn't happen to know if Hasan is related to him would you?"

"I wouldn't know for sure, if that is what you mean." Severus said cryptically.

"He looks like him. Hasan looks like Altair, but for some reason he wasn't on the tree." Remus' grey eyes found his onyx ones. "I think you know more than you are letting on, Severus."

"Think what you want—"

"No, I'm serious. This is beyond childhood relationships. Just put that behind you, would you Severus? This is about something bigger. I think you know exactly who these Castells are."

There was silence for a moment. Could Severus truly trust the wolf to keep their secrets? Perhaps he could tell just a little bit...would Hasan mind? Of course he'd mind, but would Severus care if he minded?

"Severus, I was the brains back in our childhood days if you recall. I'm not an idiot. I've seen your interest in Hasan. There are just too many things that don't add up that seem too good to not be related."

"Remus—"

"Severus, let me finish. I came here today without telling Sirius anything because I am very intent upon learning the truth right now. So help me if you continue with your charades! I am laying all my cards on the table right now. Just listen! Twelve years ago I saw Harry Potter being taken away by Sirius on his motorbike. I figured that once he became old enough, Sirius and I would be able to have a relationship with him. But Sirius was condemned without trial, Pettigrew fled, and I was shunned from the community because of my condition. One year ago, I started my teaching job at Hogwarts. I learned that Harry Potter had been missing, my only hope of any normality. All of our colleagues have noticed that you take more interest in your own snakes, and especially in one, but I had no cause to think he was anything special. And then we faced boggarts and his was Harry. MY Harry. As if that wasn't enough to make me see red flags! Time and time again there it was in front of me! Sirius telling the boy of James, Hasan speaking to snakes, your obsession in reading those Lord of the Rings books! Severus, don't you see what this means?"

Severus stayed stonily silent.

"Altair Castell doesn't have a son. That boy isn't really Hasan. Hasan is..." suddenly his eyes narrowed. "But you knew this all already, didn't you?"

"I-" Severus swallowed audibly. How was he going to control this? What could he do to keep Hasan's identity a secret?

"But this is huge! It means that Neville isn't really the Boy-Who-Lived! It means that Lily and James weren't sacrificed for nothing! Oh, Merlin! They have the wrong boy!-"

"REMUS!" Snape thundered. "I will tell on one condition. You must vow on your magic that you will not reveal what I am about to tell you to a soul."

Lupin licked his lips. "I vow on my magic that I will not reveal what you tell me." A pulse of magic boomed like a shockwave, sealing their vow.

Severus' lips curled upward. "Good. Hasan, if you could come out now."

And then, a little black fox came darting out from behind the couch with the most brilliant emerald green eyes. Lupin nearly had a heart attack.

"Oh Merlin, I didn't- not really. Wow!"

Fluidly, the young fox transformed back into a boy and when he opened his dull jade eyes, it was with a look of contemplation.

"Remus Lupin meet Harry Potter."

"How do you do?" Hasan asked.

"I-I-I'm stunned." Lupin murmured. "I don't know what to say. Harry, we thought we lost you!"

"But you did." Hasan told him evenly. "No one bothered to check on me. Just because I'm here now doesn't mean you did anything to find me."

"I'm- We're so sorry, Harry!" Remus said, still frozen in shock.

"It's Hasan. I prefer Hasan."

The wolf swallowed. "Okay, Hasan. Is there anything Sirius and I can do to make it up to you? We were your parents' best friends. We saw you when you were little..."

Hasan shrugged. "Well, perhaps. My father asked for those mirrors, correct?"

Remus nodded, "Yes. They're family heirlooms."

Severus watched Hasan intently. He could see the cogs working inside. The curiosity, but also the suspicion. What did Altair have planned? Or Hasan for that matter.

"These mirrors...they can be used to communicate across long distances?" Hasan asked. Lupin nodded. "And if you break them...will they still function?"

Severus quirked an eyebrow. Was Hasan actually planning on plotting against his own father? "Hasan, these are magical artifacts-"

"Actually," Remus cut in thoughtfully, "I think they did break once when James dropped it. The other shard still works. Granted, it's too small to be useful, but I've kept it as a memento..."

Hasan looked at Severus and let a tiny smile slip onto his face. "Do you think you could slice a piece off for me?"

"Yes." Lupin said slowly. He wasn't sure why the boy seemed so suspicious of his father, but it wasn't really his place. His only objective was to aid Har- Hasan.

"But you're forgetting that if you can see them, they can see you too," Severus pointed out.

"Well," Lupin began, "You need to speak that person's name for it to work. So in order for your father to reach you, he needs to know you have the other half. But if you wanted to call first, then I'm sure there are some spells that can ensure he neither sees nor hears you...although I'm not sure what they are. Sirius might though."

Hasan looked down at his shoes. He knew that Sirius was a bit reckless and didn't always think before doing or saying something. Was it worth the risk?

"We don't need to sort this all out now." Snape reminded him. "Besides, Sirius hasn't even read the letter. Are you planning on doing his correspondence for him?"

Lupin paused thoughtfully. "I love him, but I'm not sure how he'll react."

"So will you break a piece off for me and then we'll fix it at a later time?"

"Of course, Har- Hasan."

"Good." The jade-eyed boy smiled. "Thank you Professor Lupin, Severus."

And the boy was off to his common room...

.oOo.

When Hasan got back to his common room he was to be met with a large circle of perplexed Slytherins.

"What's happening?" Hasan wondered aloud.

"Oh, Hasan! There's this snake and-" Tracey began.

Hasan quirked an eyebrow. "A...snake?" He edged around the crowd before catching a glimpse of the creature. It was a snake, a green one, but it certainly was not big enough to cause a commotion. As far as he could tell, it was stunned and thus rendered harmless. It was the same snake Hasan had rescued from Moody earlier that day, but how had it gotten down here? Better yet, what was he supposed to do about it? He was acutely aware of Draco scrutinizing his every move, but after talking to Severus he wasn't as perturbed as before.

"Yeah, seems too good to be a coincidence." Daphne said shrewdly. "I must be one of Moody's snakes!" Oh, shit... "The one he hadn't gotten to yet." Wait wha-?

"Yeah," Blaise agreed. "It must have escaped when he wasn't looking. Merlin knows I would have!"

"What are you going to do with it?" Hasan asked them.

"Hmmm, well..." Millicent said thoughtfully. "We haven't really gotten that far. I think it would be cool to keep it as a mascot, but I'm not sure how we would even feed it."

"Are you going to tell Professor Snape?" Hasan queried.

Pansy shrugged, "I think we should."

"No!" Daphne said. "Look, Hasan, if we told him, wouldn't he be obligated to return it to Moody out of some teacher code or something?"

Hasan nodded. He didn't necessarily agree, but an idea just came to him which involved deceiving his housemates.

"You know, my father has a snake at home. I know how to take care of them so maybe we can have a mascot."

"Wow! Really?" Daphne lit up. A bunch of first years also looked up hopefully.

"I never knew you had a snake." Draco commented, eyes narrowing. Hasan refused to meet his eyes.

"Yes, because I for one take pride in Salazar's chosen familiar. I take it by your stance that you were the one to stun it in the first place?"

The crowd was awed at his deductions, even though an idiot could have seen he was the only one with his wand out. Hasan kneeled and gathered the serpent into his arms. He walked to his room with several pairs of eyes following him. When he had locked his door, he canceled the stunning spell imprisoning her.

:Where am I? Thisss isss not my home.:

It slowly uncoiled on Hasan's bed, tasting the air of his room. :Don't be sscared, little one. What isss your name?:

The snake turned sharply towards the boy. This was no ordinary wizard she knew.

:Melusssine.: she hissed, :And who might you be?:

:My name is Hassan Cassstell. It'sss a pleasure to meet you, Melusssine.:

:Ssso it iss.:

Hasan gave her a large smile. :There'ss a place here that iss perfect for sssnakess assss I am unable to leave the building any time sssoon.:

:That issss fine. I have forgotten where I live anyway although a long time ago I once lived in Avalon...:

:Avalon?: Hasan wondered, :Like King Arthur?:

:Yessss, and Merlin too. I have lived a very long time in thiss form.:

Hasan bit his lip. Of course, he had stumbled upon the one snake that wasn’t entirely normal. He would have to do more research later. Or at least wait until Hermione got over her broken ankle (which shouldn't be more than a night's rest with some potions). Melusine? he thought. What an odd name...He would wait until everyone was asleep, and then sneak out under his new invisibility cloak to the Chamber of Secrets...He went over to his trunk and rummaged around until he felt the silvery silk flow beneath his fingers. However, as he pulled it out, something else tumbled to the floor. It was the pouch Luna had given him for Valentine's day last year...

:What isss that?: Melusine questioned, slithering to the floor. :Isss that one of thossse magical locking pouchessss?:

Hasan turned to her and nodded. He hadn't gotten much use out of it because it held Ravencaw's diadem, something which he suspected was a horcrux. No way was he keeping any of his possessions next to Voldemort's soul!

:Yesss, it'sss holding ssssomething very important right now sssso I can't ussse it.: Hasan told her. She nodded as if she understood and looked at it thoughtfully. Hasan thought too. What was he going to do with it now? Was it even safe to keep near him? Perhaps that was why he was having visions, because a horcrux was nearby. Last year, the diary. This year, the diadem? Maybe he should move it then? Keep it in the Chamber of Secrets so that way he knew it was safe? Or ironically return it to the Room of Requirement- although he rather doubted he would go that route because it was clear more than one person knew of the room's existence. So what was he going to do with it? Who was he going to tell? Who could he even tell? Tell? Trust?

And then Melusine slithered her head into the pouch.

Melusine slithered her head into the heavily warded, locked, secure, magical pouch.

Her head was sticking inside his pouch!

:It apppearsss to be empty, Hasssan.:

.oOo.

Lupin took a deep breath. He had just been formally introduced to his best friend's missing child and it was none other than Hasan Castell.

"I just met him..." Remus murmured to himself. "That was Harry Potter..."

"And you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone." Severus interjected firmly.

"I know...it's just a lot to take in."

The two men, neutral at most, were now sitting together in a sort of kindred silence.

"Remus, there is something more I would like to tell you." Severus said softly. He wasn't sure if he could fully trust the wolf, but Altair was making his opinions mean less and less. He needed to be on the same page with Lupin, because otherwise, whatever it was that Altair had planned, could all be for naught.

"What is it?" Remus asked gently. He knew that Severus didn't like opening up, so clearly what he was about to say had to be pressing.

"What I am about to say is also to be between you and me."

"Yes, of cours-"

"I mean it. No telling Black or Dumbledore."

Remus fixed him with an even stare. "I swear."

Severus nodded. "Good. Lupin, we have not always seen eye to eye, but it seems we need to work together."

"Work together? For what? For Har-Hasan?"

"Yes, but more importantly for Altair."

Remus' eyebrows rose. "You mean, you know this person?"

Severus bowed his head. "Yes. Altair Castell is an old acquaintance of mine. Very old. In fact, to most people consider him long since deceased."

"I don't under-"

"Altair Castell was almost a Death Eater." Severus started. "But something stopped him. That something was information. Altair and his...(he fished around for a word) partner had conducted a study proving that blood purity meant nothing in regards to magical capacity. For that information, he would have been sentenced to die, but instead, he chose to drink several random potions...and he lived." Severus wasn't about to tell him about horcruxes just yet, but the blood study was a good enough excuse. In fact, he was nearly positive that Altair used the same story to get Hasan off his track.

"So the Dark Lord wants him dead for his study?" Remus wondered.

"At first."

"What are you leaving out?" Remus demanded.

"Altair has a plan to rid the world of Voldemort once and for all. It has already started and I am not sure what that plan is exactly so don't ask. All I need from you is cooperation."

"And this will help Har-Hasan?"

Severus smirked. "This will help the world."

He knew the wolf would agree before he even did. "What do I need to do?"

"Any time you receive a letter, tell me first before you complete the task. I'll even help if you'd like."

Remus locked him with a look that said: I know you're bullshitting me, but I'll do it for Harry.

"If that's all, then you have my full cooperation."

.oOo.

The next morning, Hasan woke up tiredly. He had worried all night and hadn't gotten the proper amount of sleep for a growing child. How the hell had the diadem disappeared? Why weren't his wards in place? Wasn't the pouch supposed to be magical? Who could have stolen it? Who could even want it? Who knew he had it? Did anyone else know about the horcruxes? When had it gone missing? At school? Was it Draco? Not bloody likely, but still. Or at home? Home? Altair...?

DAMMIT!

Of course, it had to be Altair...but why would he want the horcrux? Severus had said that Altair knew of them already, so did that mean he knew where they were...GAH!! His mind began to hurt again.

:What isss wrong, human?: Melusine asked, slithering onto his pillow.

That's right, in his shock he wasn't up for going to the Chamber of Secrets and causing even more complications to arise. He would have to do it soon though, he realized, but for now he was just focused on getting through the day. Well, at least he had Care of Magical Creatures first...

.oOo.

There were several things which irked Hogwarts' resident Potions Master. One such thing was knowing something was off, but not knowing exactly what. Watching his Slytherins that morning, he knew something was wrong. Why else were they barely talking to each other? He stole a glance towards the Moody-imposter, thinking perhaps that he had something to do with it. After what Hasan said, he harbored no doubt in his mind that Moody has specifically targeted his snakes. Hasan, he noticed, wasn't speaking with Draco as much as he had last year. The two girls, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass, also seemed to be quieter. He understood why Lucius decided to keep his son in the dark, but in a way, he didn't. What good was it to put Draco through this? Except to prevent Voldemort from killing him?

Severus sighed. He supposed that was a good enough reason. He was torn from his thoughts as Minerva made a particularly loud remark:

"-so terrible! Did you hear of Miss Granger's accident down the Divination trapdoor? I always thought that the door was dangerous." Minerva was saying.

Flitwick responded in what was probably a very sympathetic tone of voice. Unfortunately, Severus could not continue to eavesdrop on this very interesting conversation because Dumbledore had just turned his icy blue eyes upon him.

"You know, Mr. Longbottom may very well save the world." Albus murmured, tilting his head in the direction of the Gryffindor table. "However, I believe he could use all the help he can get..." continued Dumbledore in his soft, grandfatherly voice.

"What are you implying, Albus?" Severus asked sharply.

"Only that each of us has to do their part." Severus turned to face the headmaster fully, leaving no question as to who he was talking to. The headmaster took this as a sign to continue. "Have you sent a letter to the Malfoys yet?"

Severus fixed him with a blank stare. "No." he answered evenly.

"Then that is all." Albus said pleasantly, and began to hum a happy little tune.

Severus turned back to his meal and frowned.

.oOo.

Remus Lupin thought it extremely ironic for him to be teaching Care of Magical Creatures, with his Animagus dog husband as a sidekick no less. As Remus taught, Sirius would bark, acting for all the world like man's best friend. His first lesson wasn't very advanced, but hopefully it would be interesting. He watched the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors trudge down from the castle, stopping right in front of a forest clearing somewhere near Hagrid's hut. He saw Har-Hasan there in the front row, along with that Malfoy child, and the Longbottom boy. Right beside Theodore Nott was Hermione Granger-seemingly recovered from her fall down the hole.

"I know you all know me as you Defense instructor," Remus began with a large smile, "But I believe that each faction of magic has a defensive or useful function. So today, I thought we'd explore some of the lesser known but extremely useful abilities of the creatures native to the forbidden forest."

There were several whispers at this.

"Giant spiders?" someone whispered in a frightened voice.

"Centaurs?" guessed another.

 Instead of partaking in the guessing game, Hasan stared at the shaggy black dog sitting beside the werewolf...was that...Padfoot...- wait, Sirius?

Remus waited until the noise died down before saying, "Today, we will be learning about unicorns."

At his word, one large white horse emerged from the forest- the characteristic horn jutting a good two feet from its regal head. The word alone would have had several girls squealing, but as it was, even the boys were awed. Beauty in any form could be appreciated by both sexes and seeing such a magnificent creature in the flesh- well this was indescribably captivating.

"Does she have a name?" Millicent asked.

Lupin chuckled a bit, "His name is Alexander, Millicent. Now, that's a common bias which I want to address, especially but not exclusive to muggleborns. Unicorns, just like the majority of the animal kingdom, have two sexes physically."

"Oh, sorry." Millie blushed.

"Not at all. It's a very common mistake. Now, as well as being beautiful, these creatures have several practical uses. Their tail hairs and mane can be harvested and used as thread. Several fashion designers use unicorn hairs in their clothing, although it is extremely expensive (50 galleons per hair). There are also side effects to using their hairs. As many of you no doubt know, unicorn tail hairs have been traditionally used by Ollivander for wand cores. So if you do ever wear something made of unicorn hair, be prepared for uncontrollable bouts of magic. The power can be harnessed however if the core is compatible with your wand.  My wand for example contains a unicorn tail hair and if I wrap this hair around my wrist..." Lupin continued, demonstrating with a bit of hair which he had gotten from Hagrid's hut, "then I can perform wandless magic in the literal sense of the word."

Draco watched curiously as he had a wand which contained that core. He wondered if he could swipe one from Snape's potion stores...

"However, I strongly suggest that you do not take directly from the unicorn! They have nasty horns which can easily impale any thief. The horn itself is very useful. Ground, chopped, or used whole, it is a popular ingredient in several useful potions. Some of your mothers may buy the horn powder at the apothecary which is then mixed into water. It helps stabilize magic which is useful when sick or when you have a growing child with bouts of accidental magic. Does anyone have any questions so far?"

Hermione shot her hand in the air, "Isn't drinking unicorn blood a way to sustain life even on the brink of death?"

Lupin smiled warmly, "That is theoretically true, but I would not recommend slaying a unicorn for its blood. Not only is it illegal, but it will earn you eternal damnation. Unicorns are pure and innocent by nature. So yes, the blood has amazing healing abilities, but I wouldn't take it by force. Although I have heard of a small company in France which breeds unicorns and periodically takes a blood sample to be sent to hospitals around the world."

"What differentiates donations versus stealing?" Tracey asked.

"I would say intention, but I know this isn't very quantitative...but how about we demonstrate? Alex here is a registered donor at St. Mungo's." With that, the werewolf crouched in front of the unicorn, drew out what appeared to be a very thin and long syringe and waited. The class wasn't sure what they were seeing. Only a few knew that St. Mungo's offered unicorn blood as a treatment option (depending on if someone they knew got severely injured or sick). The rest of them were looking at their professor as if he were crazy. Sure, the horse was pretty and all, but that sharp horn glinted in the sunlight...

Hasan watched its eyes. They were grey-blue and very large. He wondered where the blood was extracted from, but then the creature bowed its head and Lupin advanced, slowly lowering a hand on its nose. After stroking it for a minute, he moved down its back, nonchalantly slipping the blood collecting contraption in diagonally. The unicorn was none the wiser, so perhaps it was called donation because Alexander was still alive, and he had given the go-ahead to be petted? When the syringe was filled, Remus lifted it up for the class to see. Inside sloshed silvery blue liquid which shone pearlescent in the light.

"I'm going to use the delivery service through the floo network to get it to St. Mungos, but for now we'll move on with the lesson. That was an excellent question, Hermione. In fact, I would have brought it up myself had you not mentioned it. Well, as a parting thought as it is time to move on to your next class, think of all the good magical creatures can do if you just respect them."

Sirius gave a hearty bark.

A/N-

(4 syl.). Apollo loved Clytie, but forsook her for her sister Leucothoe. On discovering this, Clytie pined away; and Apollo changed her at death to a flower, which, always turning towards the sun, is called heliotrope. (Greek, “turn-to-sun.”)

According to the poets, heliotrope renders the bearer invisible. Boccaccio calls it a stone, but Solinus says it is the herb.

“Ut herba ejusdem nominis mixta et præcantationibus legitimis consccrata, eum, a quocunque gestabitur, subtrahat visibus obviorum.” (Georgic, xi.)

No hope had they of crevice where to hide,

Or heliotrope to charm them out of view.

Dante: Inferno, xxiv.

“The other stone is heliotrope, which renders those who have it invisible.” —Boccaccio: The Decameron, Novel iii., Eighth day.

Read more: Heliotrope http://www.infoplease.com/dictionary/brewers/heliotrope.html#ixzz3WjHbUZBV

Chapter Text

To Draco Malfoy, Potions class was always a refuge. It was a time when he could show off his advanced potions knowledge while in the company of his best friend and godfather. But now all he could think about was how to ignore those two obsidian eyes that were surely burning a hole through his head. Hasan, he had noticed, was working with Longbottom, while he was left to work with know-it-all Granger.

"Come on, Malfoy. Add the shriveled newt." Hermione prodded him for the umpteenth time. She was used to competing with Malfoy for the best potion. Now, it was like he was a completely different person.

"I did! Salazar!" he huffed, just as he threw it in the cauldron.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. She was about to give Malfoy a piece of her mind when suddenly the potion in front of them exploded. Damn! He had added it too late!

Severus was immediately in action, granted he had his eye on them the entire time. In a blink of an eye, the horrible mess was banished with not even a drop on anyone or anything. Draco it seemed was smirking.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Severus intoned, "See me after class."

The room was eerily silent after that. No one had ever thought they'd see the day Malfoy get yelled at by his Slytherin loving godfather! But it seemed that there was always a first for everything.

The event was not lost on Hasan who was currently bottling his finished potion.

"Snape can be scary can't he?" Neville wondered aloud.

"Do you think so?" Hasan asked with a light smile.

"N-no!" Neville protested vehemently. Even though he was treated as a fearless hero, the real Neville wasn't completely lost. Severus scared the shit out of him and Hasan knew it. Ordinarily, Hasan would take the time to play therapist and tell Neville that it's okay to be scared and fail others' expectations. But he wasn’t in the best of moods. Draco was a particular sore spot for him and he wasn't sure how long Draco was going to continue acting weird.

"It wasn't my fault the mudblood can't read directions." Draco muttered loudly.

And before Severus or Hasan or Theo could kill him first, Hermione had slapped him right across the face. Draco gave Severus a daring grin, but Snape didn't take the bait. He just looked tired and walked away.

"Time's up. Bottles are in the front, I expect ten bottles lined up before you leave this classroom. Yes, including yours Mr. Malfoy. You are not to leave here until you have brewed this potion properly as I know you can. Miss Granger you are free to go."

Needless to say, when everyone filtered out of the room but Severus and his godson, the tension could be cut with a butter knife.

"Why are you acting this way?" Severus demanded, right to the point. "The Dark Lord-"

"The Dark Lord doesn't have anything to do with this." Draco hissed. "I can brew perfectly well-"

"Draco! You know this isn't about potions! You forget I've known you from a very young age. You act out just like an infant when you're distressed. Like crying for attention."

"I do not cry!" Draco protested.

"Or whine! Or complain! Or insult! Draco, you have acted out purposely because there is something in your life that you can't handle on your own. So you let the world know how inept you are by acting puerile!"

"Shut up, Snape! You're just jealous that the Dark Lord has given me a task! I'm younger than you were and I can bloody well handle this on my own!"

Severus' blood was boiling.

"You ungrateful-!" he stopped himself. Fighting wasn't getting anywhere. Clearly the boy was distressed by the look of the bags under his eyes, and he was only thirteen...perhaps a more Narcissa-like approach then? "Draco, I am here for you. Something is clearly bothering you and I am here in case you ever want to talk about it."

"-want to steal my glory," Draco muttered.

"This isn't about GLORY." Severus thundered. Oh! How he hated being a spy! If he weren't trying to pretend to be loyal, he would be able to appeal to Draco's sense of logic, rather than his feelings. He inwardly cursed Dumbledore and Voldemort. "Fine. I'm getting nowhere. Go! Just go!"

And Draco left. He sauntered out and then after turning the corner, he ran. Severus poured himself some firewhiskey.

.oOo.

Without Draco, lunch was even more awkward than normal. Hasan was busy picking at his food while the two girls chatted quietly. Sometime during the first five minutes of lunch, Theo came over with Hermione. The bushy-haired witch wore a sour frown as she gestured pointedly to the Gryffindor table.

"Ron is such a prat..." she was muttering. Apparently, Ron and Lavender had ganged up on Hermione, demanding to know what she had done to the cauldron to make it blow up. Because, apparently, they couldn't see why a muggleborn had such a terrible case of house prejudice and took it out on Draco Malfoy. Not only was this extremely dense thinking, but they were both hypocrites! Everyone knew that they had a vendetta against the snake house! So of course, Theodore being the loving boyfriend he was, took her over to his corner of the Great Hall.

"Ron's mad!" Daphne comforted her, "Everyone knows that you and Draco are the greatest potions students."

"Yeah, everyone knows that Ron has a big mouth-" Tracey said.

"And Lavender's is the biggest." Daphne cut in.

Hermione sniffled her thanks, and Hasan couldn't blame her. Going to the infirmary and then being attacked by a housemate in two days? That was rough.

"Maybe you should put that snake in Ron's sheets!" Tracey suggested wryly.

"Snake?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, that- oh wait, you weren't there. Well, yesterday in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Moody was practicing the three Unforgiveables on snakes he had. Two of them died, but one of them managed to find its way into our common room last night. Hasan is taking care of it." Tracey told her, thinking (falsely) that the one Hasan had saved died and the one yet untouched had escaped.

"The Unforgiveables?" Hermione repeated, "But they're illegal!"

Daphne sighed, "Yes, but I don't think Moody cares."

"He should though. He can be thrown in Azkaban for that, no matter who he is." Hermione said. "I read up on it." She glanced over to Moody and then over to Hasan. "So you have the snake in your room now?"

Hasan nodded. "Yes. Actually..." Hasan gave her a warm smile, "I was thinking of naming her Melusine because I once read something about someone named Melusine. Unfortunately I can't remember what it was or where I read it..." He tried to look forlorn. He really did.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I remember reading something about that too. Let me check in the library and I'll get back to you later. I might be sitting here a lot because Ron doesn't seem to be getting any better."

Hasan rewarded her with a broad smile. "Thanks Hermione. You're the best!"

Because even though he could read about it himself, he knew that his library history could be checked at any time. The last thing he needed was Snape or Lupin snooping about his stuff and figuring out anything that may prove important. Besides, between taking trips to the Chamber of Secrets and visiting Severus, when was he to actually study?

.oOo.

Severus Snape was tired. He was exhausted tired, although he was sleepy tired too...Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to try. It was clear that Draco was firmly in the Dark Lord's hold, or at least, was aiming to be. It was downright painful being Draco's godfather and all. Hopefully Lucius knew what he was doing...

He glanced at the nine labeled vials on his desk and turned away to his private office. He wasn't in the mood to start grading right away. As he sat down at his private desk, he glanced over at the large Mind Magick book and immediately got a headache. He shoved this away too and took out a piece of parchment. Well, he was going to have to do it sooner or later.

"Lucius,

Dumbledore has asked me to inform you that he wishes to search your vaults. All of them. He is looking for two objects belonging to Hogwarts' Founders: Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's Locket. I hope you are able to accommodate him because these objects are of the utmost importance to him. Of course, there is only a slim chance that these objects reside inside any of the innumerable Black vaults.

Please notify the headmaster whenever you have opened up the window.

Regards,

S. Snape"

The window, of course, referred to the window of time in which a designated visitor so to speak could have access to the vaults. It was more secure than simply sending them the key or even a wand. Severus highly doubted that the objects were actually inside the vault, but what did he know. Dumbledore was the expert on this type of stuff. Besides, it was all a test anyway. He just hoped that Lucius would see this truth and get the order through so that the entire ordeal could be over and done with.

.oOo.

After lunch, Luna met up with the Slytherins to walk down to Divination. She was very excited for Divination, but even more excited for being with Hasan. She realized that there was a dramatic shift in the relationship between Draco and her boyfriend, and she wanted to help support him any way she could.

Draco Malfoy, everyone soon realized, was not in the class. Indeed, nobody had seen him since the incident during Potions class. Hermione wasn't there either because she had switched out to take Ancient Runes. This made a class of 19, 9 Slytherins, 9 Gryffindors, and 1 Ravenclaw.

"Today!" Sybill began. "We will be learning the art of prophesizing!"

Several people oohed at this, mostly girls, and several people snickered, mostly Gryffindors.

"Many of you might not be aware of this fact, but I am the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney! Though the Inner Eye has skipped three generations I assure you I am quite capable of making predictions-!"

"Professor?" Lavender asked politely, "Isn't it when you make a prediction that your mind goes into an unconscious state?"

Sybill blinked, raising her hands above her head and drawing up her large sweeping sleeves.

"Of course. Which is why when one makes a prophecy, one must trust that those around him or her are listening. There have been times in history when prophecies have been disregarded, unheard, or simply forgotten. However, heard or not, these prophecies all come true."

"But haven't you predicted the deaths of several students and none of them have died yet?" Theodore asked pointedly.

"Well..." the professor brushed back her frizzled hair. "That is to say, not yet."

Lavender inched forward in her seat. "Do you need a crystal ball?"

"Not always, but it doesn't hurt, especially when beginning. But yes, today we will be practicing with them." She clapped her hands together and smiled. "Everybody pick a partner and then we will begin!"

Luna and Hasan ended up together sitting on opposite ends of the tiny round table. Luna was wide-eyed, staring into the orb for all it was worth. Hasan took a deep breath. This was absolutely boring. The whole class- boring! The teacher seemed no better than a muggle scammer and already she had caused one student to injure herself.

"Give her a chance, Hasan. She might surprise you." Luna informed him cheerfully. "Did you know that she was the one to predict the Potters' demise?"

That grabbed Hasan's attention. His jade green eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"Seriously?"

Luna nodded happily. "Yup! But most of the time I don't know what she means. I think you need to take her with a grain of salt, don't you?"

Hasan could only agree dumbly.

"I never knew that," Hasan admitted, taking another glance at the supposed seer. The woman was currently waving her sleeved arms mystically over her table. "She really made that prophecy?"

"And more!" Luna said. "But don't feel bad about not knowing. Dumbledore wants to keep it a secret that she's actually really gifted. That's why they never mentioned her name in the Prophet last year."

Well, that did make sense, Hasan supposed. Because right now, the lady looked like a lunatic.

"The secret-" Trelawney was saying from the front "-is to keep the energy focused on the ball."

"Isn't that a muggle saying?" someone piped up.

"Yeah, eye on the ball!" someone else shouted.

Trelawney cleared her throat to draw the attention back to her. "As I was saying, the energy needs to be focused into the core of the crystal. In return, the spirits may well bless you with a sign..."

Hasan gave Luna a pointed look to say: Are you sure it was Trelawney? But Luna was already trying it out for herself. The concentration on her face was a serene type of meditation, rather than the strain which shaped Trelawney's.

"I heard you saw unicorns today." Luna began softly.

"Yes, in Care of Magical Creatures." Hasan told her.

"Did you know I went to see them yesterday?"

"But weren't you at the Welcoming Feast?" Hasan queried.

Luna nodded, "Yes, but after. I passed Neville on my way there. He seemed rather busy and couldn't come with me."

Neville? Hasan thought back to the first day and frowned. He remembered thinking that Neville had a meeting with Dumbledore, but couldn't remember Luna leaving too.

"He just had a meeting with Dumbledore. That's all."

"Oh! Really? Because I was worried he didn't want to be friends anymore."

Hasan shrugged. "I'm not sure what he wants anymore either. I'd just stay away from him for a while until he cools down." Or his head shrinks, Hasan continued inwardly.

"And what about Draco Malfoy?" Luna questioned.

"What about him?" Hasan asked defensively.

"I think you should stay away from him too...until he cools down."

Hasan sighed. If only that were possible. It felt like Draco was watching him constantly now, looking for holes in his stories and errors in his lies, which were admittedly lies.

"So you went to see unicorns alone then?" Hasan asked, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, yes! They're very nice, but a bit vain I think."

"Did you get to...speak with them?" Hasan lowered his voice.

"Yes, but they didn't say much. Actually, the thestrals are so much more social, or so I've heard. The unicorns don't really socialize outside the herd." Luna told him. "I'm actually going again next weekend. Would you like to come?"

Hasan bit his lip. "Sorry, Luna. I have lessons with Snape."

She sighed. "Hmm, okay."

"Sorry..."

"No, it's okay. They don't really like strangers...or males. They might all run away from you." Luna grinned at him. "I'll tell you how it goes, okay?"

Hasan nodded. It amazed him that Luna could be so forgiving and optimistic and still like him. "Thank you."

Meanwhile, Trelawney was still continuing her prophesizing at the front of the room. Her eyes were as large as her head as she gazed into the crystal ball. Then, very abruptly, she stood up.

"It seems that the spirits have abandoned us today."

"Oh no!" Lavender cried out.

"Yes, my dear. I am very sorry but if the spirits will us to be blind to the future, then so be it. Everyone, crystal balls up front. We must continue this lesson some other day."

The class in general felt very much relieved. Several people were suffering from tired arms and humiliation.

"But as we have fifteen more minutes. Does anyone have any questions?" Trelawney asked as she simultaneously set each crystal ball in its holder. "Yes, Mr. (she checked her roll call) Castell?"

That was twice in two days his name was mentioned! Everyone's eyes snapped to him. "Professor Trelawney," he began respectfully. "Is it true that you were the one who predicted that the Potters would die?"

The teacher smiled and took a step forward proudly. "Indeed it is, Mr. Castell. As I have said, I possess the Inner Eye and I predicted the fall of the Dark Lord!"

"But isn't Neville the Boy-Who-Lived?" Ron called out obnoxiously.

Neville began to pale.

"Well, Mr. Weasley (she identified him easily by his red hair and freckles), I only make the predictions, I do not translate them. After all," she said, addressing the entire room, "It is not up to us mere mortals to decipher the language of our spirit ancestors."

"If I may, Professor." Hasan cut in, "I believe that the title of the Boy-Who-Lived is a misnomer. It was Harry Potter who lived, but it will be Neville who will live after the final confrontation with the Dark Lord."

The class seemed appeased by this, even the part where Hasan said that the final confrontation had yet to happen. The present mentality of the general public was that Voldemort was most probably on the loose, but as long as he didn't start attacking in the flesh there was nothing to worry about. In the case of Amelia Bones and Alastor Moody, most people were of the opinion that it was the Death Eaters' fault, but that Voldemort wasn't exactly back. It was odd, Hasan thought, but at least Neville's story fit right in, and that was all that mattered.

"Er, thank you, Mr. Castell for your very enlightening feedback. Now are there any other questions-Yes, Miss Lovegood?"

The young second year shot her a bright smile. "How many prophecies have you made?"

"Two, my dear. And for those who still doubt the Inner Eye's possession of me, let it be known that my prophecy of the Dark Lord's demise was corroborated by none other than Dumbledore himself!"

"Wow!" Lavender breathed. "That is so amazing! Can we hear the other one?"

The professor shook her head with the most exaggerated look of disappointment. "Alas, Miss Brown. It has been seized by the Ministry some twenty years ago and is currently locked away in the Department of Mysteries. I don't often tell people this but I do suffer in the brain." Several people snickered at that. "You see, I was in a portkey accident and was hospitalized for several months. So I cannot even use a pensieve unless I want to suffer permanent brain damage."

"That won't make a difference." Ron snickered.

"Ronald!" Lavender shrieked.

"No, no! Miss Brown, let us be patient for those who do not understand the Inner Eye, much less possess it." Trelawney said scathingly.

While the three bantered, Hasan turned his attention back to Luna. "It's in the Department of Mysteries?" he whispered. "Isn't that where Moody got attacked?"

Luna only smiled. "That's a good observation, I think."

.oOo.

:What are you doing?:

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Hasan and Melusine were crouched (Melusine was more of lying) on the floor in his dorm, peering at the map in the light cast by his wand. His invisibility cloak was slung over his shoulders for good measure.

:I need to make sure the coast is clear.: Hasan explained to the small green snake. :I'm not supposed to know how to open the Chamber let alone where it is. Sure I was found with Neville and all but no one has ever asked me about it." He tried not to pout like a petulant child. He knew it wasn't really Neville's fault that everyone was giving him special treatment, but honestly, he would have thought the great Dumbledore would have interrogated Hasan and Draco both once it was ascertained that Neville had absolutely no recollection of anything.

:I sssee.: Melusine hissed. :Then by all meansss check away.:

Hasan ignored her and continued in his search. There was Draco in his private dorm, pacing it seemed, Hermione in the library, Severus in the headmaster's office- that was interesting, Lupin with Sirius in their joint chambers. Fortunately, it seemed that there wasn't much of anyone in the corridors: there was just this guy named Barty Crouch, the care-taker Filch, Mrs. Norris, Flitwick, and McGonagall. None of them seemed likely to run into him, so he wiped the map clean and stood up.

:Wrap around my arm: he told her, :It'll be easier to carry you.:

After everything was away, the map in his pocket, his wand in hand, Melusine around his arm, and the invisibility cloak over his body, Hasan set off for the girls' bathroom. Even if he didn't know his way (which he did) Myrtle's dolorous wails would have led the way. The two were almost upon the bathroom entrance when unexpectedly Moody whipped around the corner with Flitwick right behind him. Funny how he couldn't remember Moody being in the corridors...

"Next week we'll discuss environmental strategies." Moody was saying gruffly. "Too many kids today are distracted by what is going on around them and not on the battle."

"But that's just as well," Flitwick squeaked, keeping up with the more experienced wizard, "Surroundings can save or condemn you. We can focus on how best to use it to their advantage."

Hasan assumed the two were discussing the up and coming Dueling Club meeting set to take place in a week. He pressed himself against the wall and held his breath, but despite his efforts, Moody's magical eye suddenly swung around to land on him.

"Alastor?" Flitwick asked with concern.

Moody didn't move, instead his eye flickered down to where Hasan was sure he saw Melusine. Oh shit. This wasn't good at all. He should have known that Moody could see through invisibility cloaks! But then...he never did recall seeing Moody on the map!

"Nothing." Moody said finally, "Come, there's much more to discuss."

After they passed, Hasan was left taking deep calming breathes. That was close, way too close. And he never wanted it to happen again. Hasan stumbled into the loo, not exactly in the mood to see the bathroom's namesake. As luck would have it, Myrtle was there waiting for him, wailing from the top of the window sill.

"Oh! Oh! It's you! That boy who never came back to v-visit me!"

:Why doess she wail ssso?: Melusine asked.

:She got murdered here. That's enough to moan about.: Hasan replied dryly as he walked around the sinks.

"Myrtle, I'm really sorry about that. But I've been busy."

"Busy with what?" the ghost asked languidly.

"Well I just found this snake..." Hasan told her kindly, "And I was hoping you would help me guard her?"

"A-a snake?" Myrtle wondered, eyes going round behind her glasses. "But you're not like that other boy, right?"

The other boy...Hasan knew she was talking of Tom Riddle and an involuntary shiver went down his spine. To think that Voldemort was once a student here and killed her...

"Myrtle, the basilisk is dead. This is another snake that was going to die. You'll let me keep her in here, won't you?"

Myrtle relented. If his snake was here, then Hasan would have to visit her!

"And you won't tell this to anybody?" Hasan asked as he located the sink.

"No, I swear on my grave." Myrtle said. "Ooh, this is so exciting!"

Hasan offered her a charming smile and leaned over the faucet. :Open: he hissed and was rewarded with a low moan from the center of the room. Within seconds, the entrance was by his feet once more.

:You'll like it here. I promise.: Hasan said, and jumped.

.oOo.

"...Sirius?" Remus asked. "You wouldn't happen to know where those mirrors are that James and you used to use?"

Sirius' head shot up from his Daily Prophet. "The mirrors?" he asked dubiously. Yes, he knew exactly what his soulmate was talking about. "What brought this up?"

Remus smiled nervously. "Well, I've got into a sort of scrape."

"Remus..." Sirius whined. Merlin help him!

"I need the mirrors for a short time and was wondering if you could fix them up a bit?" Remus asked in a rush.

Sirius sighed, "I don't suppose you can tell me what for?"

"I can't, Sirius, I can't." At Sirius' look, Remus elaborated, "I trust you, Sirius, I do-"

"Just not enough apparently," Sirius huffed, crossing his arms.

"That's not it," Remus sighed. "This is beyond either of us. It's for the war efforts and this is absolutely necessary. I'm sorry if you don't believe me but you know I love you. I wouldn't ask this of you if there was another way, but we both know you are the only one who knows the spells."

"Fine!" Sirius groaned. "I'll help you. I just wish I knew why."

Remus stared into the fire. "Thank you."

Sirius still wasn't sure what was happening, why he was doing this, or what part he was playing in doing this. All he knew was that he trusted his mate. He knew exactly where the mirrors were because he did harbor some hopes of finding Harry and giving some of his family heirlooms to him. But obviously James' son was lost to them forever.

There was no need to wait any longer.

Sirius retrieved the mirrors from his room and handed them to Remus.

"What do you need done?"

"I need to break one."

"WHAT?"

"I mean," Remus tried again, "That we need to make three mirrors and have one of them going one way so that you can view the others but not be seen."

Sirius gave him an odd look. Remus wanted to create a spy mirror? Clearly somebody had thought this out very thoroughly. Who exactly was threatening his man? Or working with him? Was it Dumbledore? Surely he would have talked to Sirius himself?

"Of course." Sirius said tonelessly, and set to work.

.oOo.

As much as he distasted it, Severus supposed that he would have to inform Dumbledore of the complications regarding Barty Crouch Jr. It wouldn't do to for Barty to attack students and for Dumbledore to be indecisive from the predictable confusion. While Severus was a secretive man, there were some things which he knew that Dumbledore should know. He ladled the memory potion he had been working on into a glass vial before going up to see Dumbledore.

"Licorice wands," Severus bit out as he began the ascent. He swore that Albus purposely chose passwords to humble his guests. Even Voldemort couldn't feel high and mighty while saying "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans" to a stone gargoyle.

"Come in," came Dumbledore's voice from inside.

Severus pushed the door open and held up the vial in explanation. "Albus, I passed along your message to the Malfoys."

The bearded man seemed to take a minute to process this. "Ah, yes. The letter, and oh good! You brought the potion!"

Severus nodded. In an odd sort of way, Severus felt bad for the wizard who was suffering under Altair's spell work.

"How are you faring?" Severus enquired.

"Oh, I'm alright." Albus said wearily. "I just realized I forgot to send out Hogsmeade permission slips and I'm presently organizing Susan Bone's papers. She's going to be homeschooled, I'm afraid."

Severus could understand that. The school was, as the muggles would say, a ticking time bomb. One year Voldemort as a teacher, the next a werewolf and a Basilisk to top it off! If he had kids, he wouldn't want them attending either.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Severus? You seem troubled."

Damn the man! Snape thought. He was too perceptive for his own good.

"Nothing personally, although I did wish to tell you that the Dark Lord has placed a spy in our midst."

Dumbledore eyed him shrewdly without his normal twinkle.

"Not ME!" Severus cried, "Merlin, Albus! I am talking of Moody, Alastor Moody."

"What about Moody?" Albus asked sharply, defensively.

"That is the problem, Albus. The Dark Lord has captured him the night of the attack and has planted Barty Crouch Jr. in his place."

Dumbledore swallowed. He remembered reading that Barty Crouch's son was among those who had escaped from Azkaban the year previous. This was a very bad thing indeed.

"Does he have orders from his master?" Albus asked casually.

"He is to stay and wait for orders." Severus informed him, "Although I have no doubt he will be called back once the resurrection begins."

"And how is that coming along?" Albus asked conversationally.

"Well. Far too well. I expect we'll have a fully corporal enemy within the school year."  Severus scowled.

The headmaster nodded slowly. "So we will...But you know what I think, Severus? I think we'll all be ready for him. Boy-Who-Lived or not, I think we might be able to kill him."

Severus was impassive. "Boy-Who-Lived or not."

.oOo.

The Dueling Club had finally arrived with much excitement and anticipation from all those involved. Dumbledore, though informed of Moody's er, personal problems, was confident that he wouldn't try anything too dangerous the first time. Even so, he set Sirius to watch the processions as a dog, as if the mutt could save them Severus had scoffed.

Hasan in particular was excited for the club to begin. After the events of last year he felt, more than ever, that education in self-defense should be on the top of all their lists. He found Luna in the crowd, standing beside Hermione, Theo, and Draco. The rest of their usual party was near but busy talking with their own friends.

"Oh, Hasan!" Hermione exclaimed as the jade-eyed boy came to join them. "I looked up Melusine just like you asked, but couldn't find anything on it! It's absolutely terrible! You would have thought that Hogwarts' library had everything!"

"What's this about Melusine?" Luna questioned innocently.

"It's the name he's giving that snake." Hermione supplied, then remembering that Luna was a grade below them proceed to explain that Hasan rescued a snake from Professor Moody's infernal demonstrations.

"So you're naming it already?" Theodore asked.

"Yes." Hasan said, "What would you have me do? Refer to it as Snake?"

Theodore shrugged, "I didn't think you'd actually keep it. It's a nice gesture and all, but we don't know the first thing about it. Aren't you worried that it'll kill you in your sleep?"

Hasan flicked his eyes up to meet Theo's. "There is a thing called magic, Theo. Besides a stunning spell, a shielding spell, a binding spell, or accioing all its teeth out, one could buy a cage."

Theo was about to say something biting back, but Hermione quickly jumped in with a comment about muggle technologies being utilized by wizards. Hasan shrugged it off. He didn't mean to sound cruel, but he really didn't appreciate all these questions. He was paranoid as hell that Myrtle would tell someone about his little escapade last week, or that someone else would spill the beans about his pet snake.

"You can relax here, Hasan." Luna offered sweetly. "I won't tell about your pet snake. I also think Melusine is a great name. Starbucks, you know?"

And before Hasan could possibly wonder what Luna was babbling about now, the Club began.

.oOo.

Filius Flitwick was admittedly a Dueling Champion. In his youth he participated in such clubs that earned him respect among several wealthy families despite his goblin inheritance. As an adult and adept professor of charms, one could only guess that the youth had improved with time. But as it was, he looked pitifully frail and ancient next to war worn Alastor Moody. But at second glance, both looked incredibly old and surprisingly dangerous in that they both looked like formidable opponents.

"Welcome!" Flitwick squeaked, "To the first Dueling Club meeting of the year! Today we will be learning how environmental factors can help or hinder you. However, we would like to demonstrate what a real wizards' duel looks like so that you have something to look forward to the in the future.."

"Yes," Moody agreed gruffly, very excited to try his stuff on the world renowned dueling champion. "And to make it fair, we will only be using the stunning, disarming, and shielding spells."

 The crowd watched closely as the two wizards arrange themselves on stage. Flitwick erected an orb-like shield to cover the expanse of their dueling platform, while Moody took the time to stare at the kids with his magical eye. Hasan felt it glance over him and automatically looked away. Luna gave him a concerned smile and gave his hand a squeeze.

"As some of you may remember from last year, the two participating wizards will bow to each other before the actual duel. It is for tradition's sake as well as courtesy." Flitwick said.

"And respect," Moody added, "Never underestimate your opponent."

The two wizards then met at the center, bowed, and returned to their respective locations. Hasan, who had never seen Flitwick in this setting, was rather startled to see the determination shining in his eyes.

"Stupefy!" Moody shouted, making the first strike.

Flitwick tumbled to the side (with a youthfulness no one had ever expected from him) and shot his own stunning spell back at him. "Stupefy!"

"Protego!" Moody said as he ducked from the spell. "Expelliarmus!"

Flitwick created his own shield and sent a stunner from the side. Moody grit his teeth. He was not to be outdone by the likes of him! Such a filthy half-creature! How he wished to send him sprawling across the floor under the cruciatus or other questionably illegal curses!

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" Moody yelled, shooting one after another in an attempt to break the shield. Flitwick almost smirked, with a quick jerking motion, a disarming spell flew from under his shield and straight towards its target! Lacking his host body's actual skill, Barty Crouch Jr. was left wandless and sent flying into the wards from the power behind the spell.

Hasan watched in fascination. He had done something similar in class last week, but to see it from this viewpoint was simply spectacular. Moody's face as he was suddenly struck by the spell was one of pure shock- a highly unusual emotion to express given the auror's line of work and normally blank demeanor. If Hasan hadn't known better, he would have said that Moody was no better than a fourth year student at Hogwarts- and that was being generous. However, he remembered vividly the cruelty which this man was capable of and second guessed his gut reaction. Maybe he just wasn't used to the constraints of using three mild but useful spells. Surely an auror was more adroit at wielding other more potent spells? Hasan shrugged, it wasn't like he knew a lot about Magical Law Enforcement. In fact, Altair had made sure they kept away from it as much as possible, his weapon being horrible disguises than actual research and evasion.

"Well done, Filius." Moody all but growled. "But let us keep in mind that in the battle field all spells that you are even the least bit familiar with are available to you. There will be no limits in the real world."

"Which is why," Flitwick segued smoothly, "Our next meeting will be outside so that you can experience a more realistic battle setting. Not all fights are conducted on Ministry approved measurements and encased in protective wards."

There was a murmur of excitement throughout the crowd at this new bit of news. Go outside? Learn to use your surroundings? This was a new type of learning which excited even the dimmest of students.

"Alright then!" Flitwick said, "For the rest of the remaining time we will try a little experiment. There will be no teams, although you are welcome to make your own during the course of the game. The three spells we have used will be the only spells in your arsenal: Stupefy, Protego, and Expelliarmus. The object of the game is to be the last one who is not stunned. All wands which have been taken from the original owner will be charmed to fly to us instead of the castor only for organization's sake. Don't worry, the wand knows its owner and will fly back to you at the end of the game. If you are disarmed, but not yet stunned, feel free to continue playing. I will give everyone ten seconds to line up against any wall in the room. Any questions? Excellent! One...Two...Three...Four..."

Hasan and Luna hurried to the far wall, while Hermione, Theo and the rest of the Slytherins lined up on the adjacent wall.

"Five...Six...Seven...Eight..."

"This is kind of like muggle dodge ball!" Luna was saying excitedly.

"Nine...Ten! You may begin!"

All at once, everyone tore from their original walls and started shouted spells at the top of their lungs. The teachers, one should note, were happily sitting on chairs under heavy protective wards.

"STUPEFY!"

"Come at me you bastard!"

"STUPEFY!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

"COWARD!"

"STUPEFY!"

Hasan, to his credit, had formed an alliance with Luna and were rotating back to back, erecting shield after shield.

"Expelliarmus!" Theodore shouted at Luna.

"Stupefy!" she yelled. Theodore dodged out of the way before he was hit, but Luna's wand went soaring over to the professors.

"Oh no!" Luna sighed, not at all sad. To her surprise, her stunning spell had hit Hermione (who was tailing Theo) causing Theo to knock into her in his haste to get away. Not having any of it, Hasan sent him a stunner, which of course hit its mark as Theo was suffering from a head injury.

"Come on, let's get some shelter." Hasan said, indicating where several Hufflepuffs were frozen in one corner. Luna nodded her approval.

Meanwhile, Tracey was fighting off Pansy Parkinson who was also fighting off Millicent Bulstrode.

"Here’s for that time you called me ugly!" Millie cried, slashing her wand at the pug-faced girl.

Pansy gnashed her teeth together and she threw up a shield. "It's not my fault you take everything to heart! Stupefy!"

Tracey wary of Millicent, but terrified of Pansy, shot a disarming charm at Millie. Her wand out of reach, Pansy seized the chance to stun her, but this proved to be her downfall as Tracey stunned her in turn.

"Nice work," Daphne grinned, nodding at the statues. "Hey, they should call this game Medusa. Fighting, isn't it?"

Tracey gave her a tight nod before she had to leap out of the way from Lavender barreling through. Right behind her was Ronald Weasley and tagging beside him was the Golden Boy, Neville Longbottom.

"Truce?" Neville offered sneeringly.

"Not a chance!" Daphne smirked, and sent him a stunner. Ron, his temper always on edge, decided it was time to unleash his magical disarming powers. Anticipating his spell by his wand movement, Tracey threw up a shield, which was quickly banished by Lavender shooting a particularly nasty Stupefy. As Tracey's meagre shield collapsed, Daphne made her own, whispering for Tracey to try and disarm Lavender as she was a loose cannon. Fortunately it wasn't long until Lavender's wand joined the pile. Unfortunately, she was still a menace disarmed.

Animalistic-ly, she tackled Tracey to the ground. Too shocked to do much else, Ron was swiftly hit by a stunner, the same stupid expression locked on his face.

"AHHHHH! You hit my WON WON!" Lavender shrieked.

Daphne did everyone a service by stunning the banshee of a woman, but Neville had already stunned Tracey who was trapped beneath the other. Now it was only Neville and Daphne.

"Truce?" Neville offered again, though weakly.

Daphne smiled. "Truce."

It was but ten minutes into the game and already most of the room was frozen in place. While Flitwick contemplated the possibilities of adding another element, such as the ability to revive a 'statue' as analogous to potions or healing spells, Moody's mind was somewhere else entirely. He was sent by the Dark Lord to guide young Mr. Malfoy, but he had another task here as well: to identify those the Dark Lord would find worthy as his future followers. It was no secret that the Dark Lord desired fresh blood so to speak. Many of his original followers, not able to benefit from his deranged idea of immortality, were growing rather old and some deceased. As Moody watched the students form little ragtag bands, he contemplated the use the Dark Lord would have of them.

Mr. Longbottom, he noted, was quick to gain allies. After his first team had been taken down, he quickly aligned himself with the enemy- a very interesting response for one so young. If not for the fact he flaunted his Gryffindor-like stupidity around, Moody would have judged him a Slytherin based on that one move.

He kept a close eye on Hasan, of course, simply because he had caught his attention the first day of class, but when it became apparent that all he did was throw up shields and occasionally sent out stunners, Moody quickly became bored. He sent a quick glance at Flitwick out of sheer paranoid- as if the man could possibly detect his thoughts, and relaxed back into his chair to enjoy the show.

Within twenty minutes of the game, the only survivors were Hasan, Luna, Neville, Daphne, Cedric Diggory, a small Ravenclaw, Terry Boot, and Padma Patil. Luna was the last one without a wand but she was quick and slender and so was able to hide behind the millions of frozen people at her disposal.

"Stupefy!" a man yelled, causing someone to run for cover.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Stupefy!"

Cedric-down.

Terry Boot- down.

Unknown ravenclaw- down.

Padma Patil- disarmed.

Daphne- down.

Now there was only Hasan, Luna, Padma, and Neville left...Moody inched forward in his seat- so did Flitwick. The tension in the room was startling. Two without a wand two with a wand.

Hasan lazily flicked his wand at Padma and stunned her on the spot. Now the real fight would begin.

Chapter Text

Neville and Hasan looked at each other in the eye. Really looked. Neville's dark eyes were full of misplaced pride and a bit of anger. Hasan's were always dull, always eerily empty. Hasan dared him to strike. The Boy-Who-Lived indeed, too scared to make the first move on the Slytherin scum he just started to dislike due to Ron's constant urging. Hasan's lips quirked up. He remembered with a twisted sense of satisfaction the first time he had really confronted Voldemort. How he had told the Darkest Wizard of the time that he could go ahead and kill his friend, Neville Longbottom. If only Neville knew how very unfair the playing fields were. Hasan wasn't in Neville's league. He was far above it- and the little prat knew nothing. Nothing at all.

Neville drew his lip up in a snarl.

"Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" he growled.

Hasan was quick to act and dodged behind a frozen Cho Chang.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" His spell choice was so limited it was starting to give him a headache. All throughout the game he was playing defense, but now? Now it was no holds bar. "Stupefy! Stupefy!" Hasan hissed, tearing his wand through the air.

Neville was wide eyed with fear for a split second as he dived on the floor. Head popping up for a second, Hasan continued his barrage of stunners. It was exhilarating. He felt powerful! The Golden Boy. The Boy-Who-Lived. All idealizations created by a mentally deteriorating man and a population of a few thousand British witches and wizards. He didn't have the strength to face his imperfections alone, internally, but seeing the incarnation of all he hated smirking challengingly back at him really brought out the fighter in Hasan. After a while he stopped hearing...

Stunner after stunner was shot at Neville Longbottom. Sure, he was supposed to be the world's savior, but he wasn't prepared for this! Was there no break? If he moved too fast, he ran into someone and risked getting hit while he was recovering. If he moved to slow, the stunner would hit him anyway. If he simply sat on the ground, Hasan would no doubt advance like a predator would in the wild. Because right now, Hasan looked like he was the predator and Longbottom his prey. It was actually starting to freak him out.

But he was a Longbottom! He was of a brave stock and his Gran particularly loved to remind him of his duty to uphold the family honor.  He could not shy away from this boy no matter how freakish his eyes seemed to be, boring into him as if they could see the poor confused boy beneath. Acutely aware of his position, he lifted his wand-

"Stupefy!"

.oOo.

Hasan was getting tired, his eyes began to water, his heart was beating faster and faster. He knew that rationally he could not blame Neville for anything: not his parents' fate, nor his present dilemma, nor his messed up mind, nor Neville's own Boy-Who-Lived persona. Everything was just too complicated to simply point a finger and cry. Hasan stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He hadn't realized how hard he was breathing or the sweat that was pouring down his face. He also didn't realize how dehydrated he must have been because suddenly there were stars in his line of vision.

Fuck it all- if Neville really wanted to hit him. Then let him have a go. He was just tired. Of everything. But as Neville lifted his wand and aimed, Hasan realized something was drastically wrong. It wasn't for him- no, it was pointed at Luna. And Hasan did the only thing he could do- he lunged.

.oOo.

Barty Crouch Jr. was expecting several things. He expected Lucius' spawn to be in the top ten (figures he wouldn't even show up). He expected the Boy-Who-Lived to win. And he expected that brat, Hasan Castell, to put up a good fight. What he was not expecting was a glorious show of Gryffindor sacrifice from a Slytherin no less.

He watched as Neville shrewdly shot a stunner at the wandless second year (how had she lasted that long anyway?), an underhanded move he hadn't thought Dumbledore's Golden Boy capable of. He watched as Hasan threw himself in front of it, while simultaneously sending his own stunner. The two spells had collided and- Suddenly that wandless second year was the victor.

The Victor.

Barty was a little more than disappointed.  Remus Lupin on the other hand was overjoyed.

"Excellent game!" Remus Lupin applauded the room now full of statues. "Congratulations to our winner, Luna Lovegood!"

"Really?" Luna wondered sweetly.

Barty rolled his eye. "Finite Incantatem." he cast, effectively unfreezing the room. He was so done with tonight. He hastily sent the wands flying back to their original owners in a less than sour mood.

"That was some game!" Theo said as he unfroze.

"Tell me about it." Hermione grumbled, "My back hurts."