Triple Deception

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Severus Snape and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

AN: Triple Deception was started somewhere between OotP and HBP. Thus, it disregards any cannon after OotP. Also, this story is long, very long, and I am not at all consistent when I update it so please don’t expect a new chapter every few weeks. On the other hand, every chapter is quite large, so you’ll have something to mull over while waiting :D

This is my first story-sized fic so any critique is helpful. I am also looking for a Beta for later chapters. Again, this will not be a weekly job so if anyone is interested in some sporadic beta work later on drop me a line- e-mail is in my lookup.

I’ll drop chapters weekly until I run out of material, I hope you enjoy it- please tell me what you think!

edit: I've edited the section this story is catagorized under (Harry/Draco to Harry/Snape) because while there are elements of the former it is largely a story about the latter. Sorry guys!

Chapter one; In which we discover they don’t make wards like they used to.

Harry Potter; not-yet-savior of the wizarding world and Hogwarts alumni of some thirteen odd years, was able to live in relative peace (if one overlooked the various confrontations with Voldemort’s lackeys) at number four Privet Drive after the unfortunate deaths of both his aunt and uncle followed by the subsequent heart failure of his cousin Dudley. The three surely had no intentions of leaving their possessions in the hands of a wizard no matter what the situation, but with no direction beyond Dudly’s inheritance of everything nonmagical (ie: everything), the items were passed to the only living relative. Harry had been reluctant, at first, to accept the surprising amount of both money and useless items that filled Dudley’s room, but a sharp conversation with Hermionie (mostly one sided) had convinced him otherwise. The house had been warded and, after a talk with Dumbledore; still Headmaster at Hogwarts, and some squirming about with the incompetent members of the Ministry; spelled as an unplottable location. The only people who could see the house were wizards, the only people who could remember where it was were those Harry trusted with such information; the latter being a precious few in present times.

The house hadn’t been changed after Harry’s obtaining of it, not really. It still held that small cupboard under the stair as well as no trace of his ever living there previously. His relatives had been hell bent on ensuring he never existed save outright killing him; it was ironic that he now held everything they had ever owned. Not that it did much for him. The various knickknacks in Dudley’s room had been packed away and dropped off at the closest store dumpster. As had all the clothing, most of the furniture, the photos, a lot of the remaining food and the bars that had previously closed off his bedroom window. Uncle Vernon apparently had planned on replacing them when no one was looking. Aside from gutting the place to a shell, it was still the same house.

Truth be told, Harry simply hadn’t found the time to do anything with it. Even if he had the time, he wasn’t sure he would change it. It stood as a reminder, of sorts, that he had come forward in his life… or maybe not. But he had been living in it for six years, so perhaps it had grown on him. Its shadows and angles contrasted deeply with its bright curves. The kitchen was brightly lit, as was the adjoining dining room, due to open windows and decent weather. In fact, the entirety of the lower floor was quite well lit. The second story, consisting of two bedrooms and a bath, was darker (what with only one window and that in a bedroom) and usually cooler.

The brief time Remus had been there, aiding Harry in his gutting, he had tried many times to spell some windows in the upper story. Harry had undone them every time, replying that the heat was too strong in the summer or that the carpet would fade and other various excuses that didn’t make much sense to the space-loving werewolf. None of them were true, but Harry doubted his godfather’s closest friend would understand his likeness for the dark. Granted, it had not always been that way but after Cedric Diggory’s death, his line of thinking had been subtly changed. People still expected to see the smiling face of the thirteen year-old and naive child he had been, so that’s what he gave them. Holding that mask hadn’t been hard in the least, for even he had not noticed the change until midway through his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. By then it had become second nature and he couldn’t simply stop smiling. People would panic. They’d send him off to St. Mungo’s before he could say Quidditch, thinking their star and royal savior had been cursed or some such nonsense.

It was only within the wards of his house that he ever let the mask slip. It wasn’t a home, not even after six years. There was no sign that anyone lived in the place aside from the food in the refrigerator. No dishes cluttered the counter; no items of value or lack thereof decorated the interior. The bed was always made, and hardly ever used. On that note, Harry hardly ever slept. Between coping with deaths of loved ones and friends, defending against seemingly random and sporadic attacks, and pushing the limits of his body through physical exercise, Harry didn’t have time to sleep. Nightmares were his only companions then anyway, so sleep would be among various tortures. All the activity did have its plus sides though. Formally short and rather lanky, Harry’s figure had filled out surprisingly. Muscle and pure brute strength were up a few notches from his younger days at Hogwarts. Even Vincent Crabbe would be proud of the biceps he sported now, thanks to hundreds of pushups and the occasional visit to the local gym.

Harry was currently working those biceps in his front yard, topless and with only a pair of ragged shorts to pass as clothing. Sweat dripped down his nose and into the not-quite-green grasses with each controlled decent of his torso. He exhaled in a harsh breath and pushed himself back up with a soft grunt. Down, exhale, up breath, down, up, down. The twittered welcome from Hedwig, allowed free rein of both the house and surrounding land, was ignored for the moment. Up, down, up. A shadow passed over him, quickly seen, assessed and identified as a school property owl. Down, up, down, up. The bird landed and half waddled toward Harry, half stumbled. Down, up, down, up, down. He wasn’t about to interrupt his workout for a letter. If it was important, Dumbledore would have come; as it was, a letter would wait. Up, down, up. The bird nipped at one of his fingers, buried in the spiky grass. Down, up. It nipped again, drawing blood; Harry ignored it. Down, up, down, up. The owl screamed in his ear, a shrill sound that had the wizard on his feet, the bird’s neck in his grip, and his wand, drawn from somewhere beside him in the grass, pointed at it’s beak. Damn bird… The owl chirped and cocked his head as if confused how he had come to be in such a position, not at all afraid. Harry’s grim sneer melted into an annoyed glare. He took the letter.

With note delivered the winged creature trilled to Hedwig, now comfortably perched on Harry’s shoulder, and took to the skies; back to wherever he had come from. Harry opened the wax-sealed paper and read.

Master Wizard Harry Potter

It is by request of the Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that you attend a meeting of peers on the morning of August twenty third, at exactly six-twelve in the morning in the Great Hall for a demonstration of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Let it be known that the teaching position of Defense Against the Dark Arts is currently open and any who attend are those who express a wish to teach said position. Any questions or concerns may be directed toward the Headmaster any time that is not three-seventeen, day or night, and they shall be seen to immediately.

Lemondrop?

One of the expressed candies materialized in Harry’s hand. Six-twelve? Three-seventeen? A lemondrop? Well at least he hasn’t changed. The candy in question was eaten quickly before it decided to melt and the letter reread. Is this some sort of veiled request for me to teach the class? I can’t teach. Harry drifted inside the house, doors opening and closing behind him of their own accord. He scaled the stairs to the second level and, making a mental note of the date and time, set the page alight with a muttered “Incendo”. With a soft grunt he moved to the bathroom for a cold shower. What does he expect me to do? Teach a bunch of young, unpredictable children how to beat the Dark Lord? I have to not only save the bloody world but I need to teach the next generation while I’m about it?! Ice water struck his face, sloughing sweat and dirt from the day’s workout away from his figure. Warmed muscle slid gently under taught, darkened skin, displaying a hidden strength that wasn’t there during his younger years.

The water trickled down his body, cooling the overheated skin. Am I expected to excel in everything that man puts me up to? I never asked for any of this. Hell, I hardly passed the three OWLS I took seventh year, none, might I add, involving the Dark Arts. Shampoo found its way into the mop of black hair. I didn’t even take one for potions, and even I know that defense and potions can go all but hand in hand. The suds were rinsed away, strong fingers raking through the long tangles methodically. Are they so desperate for teachers that a failed potions student needs to be called in? The water was turned off and a towel lifted from a nearby rack. Although, if they’ve been hiring people like Lockheart than I suppose my teaching would be an improvement... And I do have first hand knowledge of what the war is all about. There are probably only a few others that have gone up against Death Eaters and lived to tell about it that would still be willing to try it. He added grudgingly. By the time he left the bathroom, Harry had talked himself into answering the summons. The worst that could happen was he would be turned down, and he couldn’t possibly be worse than Lockheart if he was accepted.

--//--

On the dark morning of August twenty-third at a ridiculous time of three in the morning, Harry Potter was already on his way to Hogwarts. Or more specifically, on his way to Diagon Ally, seeing as the school’s defenses didn’t allow apparation directly onto the grounds. As it was, the golden savior of the world arrived to empty streets and dark alleyways with no crowds to bother him and no masks to be worn. Taking advantage of the situation, Harry made his way into the less traveled shadows of Knockturn Ally. Not to his surprise, the ally was occupied by a few of the less than agreeable folk of the wizarding world. Men who couldn’t care less if he was a random wizard or Voldemort himself, so long as he paid the asking price. Harry felt comfortable here, where anonymity was commonplace and you weren’t expected to be cheerful all the time. In fact, if you were cheerful, you’d probably be mugged on the spot.

A figure in the distant twists and turns gained Harry’s inadvertent attention. He was tall, well cloaked in a dark black that melded him with the constant shadows that Knockturn was known for. Black hair hung down past his chin, obscuring his face and glinting blue in the moonlight. Harry frowned softly and moved forward, trying to get a better look. The figure turned; cloak billowing and obscuring his profile. Harrry noted the man’s height, the proud stalk, and the way others along the path drifted around him, rather than he around them. The man was known here, had a reputation among the commonly present. He was probably just another regular, but Harry couldn’t get the his familiar gait out of his head. Who did it remind him of…? Mounting his broom with another soft frown, Harry abandoned the streets and soared into the air, toward the distant lights of Hogwarts, putting thoughts of the man out of his mind for now.

--//--

Hogwarts grounds had always held a deceptively peaceful calm that Harry could never quite accustom himself to. There was always a feeling of homecoming, not surprising considering his first introductions to the place, and he had always felt a sense of safety as soon as he crossed the borders of the school, but it was because of that instant sense that set him on edge tonight. It hadn’t taken him very long after his graduation for him to recognize that the wards were the things that instilled calm serenity into the grounds and those who walked them. It was the wards that calmed strained nerves, not because Hogwarts was a ‘safe’ place to be, but because it was made to feel safe. Granted, it probably was one of the safest places to be between the teachers and the castle itself, but it would probably feel safe even if rows of Death Eaters strolled through the hallways.

The moment he crossed the border over school grounds, soaring over the darkened landscape on a silent broom, Harry’s awareness of everything around him was bumped up a notch. He may have felt safe, but that didn’t mean he was going to let down his guard. He guided his broom in a lazy arc around the school. It was still absurdly early in the morning, almost four, for anyone to be up, and Harry didn’t need to be in the Great Hall for another two hours.

The Quiddich pitch came into view and Harry veered toward it, willing to loose himself for a while in flight while his mind wandered on other topics of interest. Not least among them being the man in Knockturn Ally. He had recognized the man, not by looks, but by the way he held himself. Patterns, such as the way one walks and carries oneself, were easy for Harry to spot. Unfortunately this case was different enough for him to be not quite sure. He disliked being unsure but it wasn’t one of those things he could ruminate over until the answer came to him. He’d probably think of it faster, in fact, if he stopped thinking about it.

Forcibly dragging his thoughts elsewhere, they turned to the upcoming meeting, or rather, demonstration, he was to participate in. What, exactly, does the Headmaster expect us to do? Defend ourselves against him? Each other? Some random scenario? Thoughts of who else had received a summons were bypassed entirely as Harry had no idea of Dumbledore’s contacts. The man knew everybody and their mother, there was no way he could possibly guess who else had been invited to come, never mind who would even show. Lockheart won’t be there. He doesn’t remember anything for one thing. Lupin probably won’t be here either. Parents wouldn’t allow a werewolf. Harry felt a pang of regret at that. Remus Lupin was a good man and one of the better Defense teachers they had ever had to boot. Second only to Mad-eye, of course. Alastor Moody was another one that wouldn’t be here. Harry didn’t think the man trusted anyone in the castle enough to warrant spending another year teaching considering what befell him last time for one thing. Another was that the man had fallen a few years ago at the hands of the Death Eaters, a hard blow to their side, but one that was well learned.

When Harry was joined on the pitch at the brisk hour of five, he didn’t hear the newcomer so much as sense their proximity. A grinning Professor Hooch pulled up alongside Harry with a silent wave. Harry nodded to her in return, granting her the benefit of a smile to indicate his welcome.

“Well, well! Long time it’s been for you out here, eh? Care for a few laps around?” The professor gestured down at the pitch.

“By all means, lead the way.” Harry smiled again but there was little mirth in his voice. Hooch flashed a grin and dove for the ground, Harry hot on her tail by the time she leveled off. Around the first bend Harry pulled in front, hardly working to maintain the speed. At the stretch the professor caught up to him and sped past with a gleeful cackle, banking on the turn and keeping her lead.

Harry bent over his broom, minimizing the resistance to the air, slowly gaining on his former flying instructor. It was three more laps before Xiomara indicated an end to the race and Harry made his move, shooting past her with a burst of speed and landing on the pitch with a flourish of spinning cloak. The professor laughed and applauded, though she remained hovering. Harry took his leave then, pleading a long morning of flight and a long day ahead. Madam Hooch waved him off with a grin (she must have woken up on the right side of the bed this morning) and took off into the air again to finish her daily warm up around the pitch.

Harry’s smile slipped into a neutral expression of one deep in thought, though that was hardly the case. It allowed him some measure of peace, he didn’t need to force an unfelt emotion onto his countenance, but it was also something of a defense, as one could never truly know if one was being watched.

His travel through the castle was uneventful and it was soon enough that he found himself opening the doors to the Great Hall. “Hydralis Internecio Absolutus!” Harry watched with an almost bemused expression as the curse flew through the air at him. The fact that the spell seemed to have come from the Headmaster didn’t prompt much of a response, though he did doubt very much that the man wanted him dead… or… ‘absolutely destroyed by hydra’, as it were. Almost as an afterthought he muttered a proximity defense with a hard gesture toward the spell before it could reach him. The red spike of power rippled against a silver wall and slowly disintegrated against it. Harry strode forward, a soft frown the only thing giving away his expressed displeasure. Being attacked at odd hours of the morning by his former Headmaster did not bode well for an uneventful remainder of the day.

It was only after Harry had stalked half the length of the hall that his brain registered more than one person within it.

In fact, there were quite a few, all of which seemed to be staring at him.

--//--

“Harry! A word?”

The tired wizard turned and gave the Headmaster a weary smile, nodding and gesturing to a vacant section of the hall.

“Harry I wanted to apologize for this morning, it seemed to put you into a mood and that wasn’t my intention.”

Harry held up a hand to silence the man, who, to his surprise, complied. “Did you ‘test’ anyone else who walked through that door?”

The Headmaster’s eyes twinkled; Harry straitened, wary. That twinkle was never a good thing. It always meant Albus was plotting something. “Yes, every one of them.”

“I take it not many managed to defend themselves.”

“Oh, quite the contrary, they all survived it if only a little worse for where. But you were the only one who didn’t seem to even consider it a threat worth acknowledging.”

Harry sighed and put a hand to his neck, rolling his head back to pop the joints beneath his fingers. “Well it’s not like I haven’t come up against worse in my lifetime.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore’s voice was grave, “Though the worse I gave them was a jelly legs jinks.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

“It makes me wonder, Harry, that you aren’t becoming negligent in your day to day. A single toe misplaced and everything is up in smoke. I even sus-“

The Headmaster was interrupted by Harry spinning about with remarkable speed, his wand out and pointed directly at the prominent nose of none other than Severus Sape. The potions professor’s black eyes narrowed slightly. “I wasn’t aware I had announced my presence so dramatically, Mister Potter.” Came his slow drawl.

“You didn’t.” The reply was flat, served deadpan. No elaboration was forthcoming.

“I see. May I inquire then, as to the cue for your abrupt reaction.” Harry noticed he made no mention of the reason for it.

“An unheard disturbance in my proximity spell.” Harry still made no move to withdraw his wand.

“I did not notice any such spell.”

Harry’s mouth quirked, swiftly schooled again into that deadpan expression. “You weren’t meant to.” He then whirled on his Headmaster with that same blinding speed. “Is there anything else, Headmaster, or may I retire to a room? It has been a trying day and I fear if I am a part of it for much longer, my nerves won’t be able to handle it.” Not to mention the muscles in his face were tired of smiling and this fancy conversation was grating on his nerves.

Dumbledore grinned and gestured, indicating that Harry was free to do as he willed. The young wizard swiftly took his leave, not so much as glancing over his shoulder. Albus sighed, the tension of the day worming its way onto his face. Severus frowned.

“Albus?”

“Yes, Severus?”

“A proximity spell?”

“I did not notice one either, but desperate times call for desperate measures and war is the epitome of desperate times. The boy has a great power within him, I can only hope that when he discovers it, there will be someone around to help him control it.”

Severus looked to the Headmaster, his expression flat. “Control it, Albus? What are you implying? The boy has long ago come of age and he survived that none the worse for wear. He has an inane ability to escape from the Dark Lord no matter how dire the situation due to an unexplainable run of extraordinary good luck. If Mister Potter can go through a Death Eater camp and come out the other side with not so much a hair out of place, please tell me why you worry yourself over a dormant power.”

“He came out of it with more than a hair out of place, you of all people should recognize that.” Albus sighed again; a long suffering sigh filled with the weight of too many years. He gazed after Harry’s retreat with an almost pained expression. “But perhaps you are right…” He turned back to the remaining few people in the hall. “Who do you recommend, Severus?”

The potions professor glanced at the man for whom he had worked for over twenty years. A black eyebrow rose slowly. “Surely you’re joking.”

--//--

Harry lay on his back within the confines of a large, curtain enclosed bed, staring at nothing in particular. He had not lied to Albus when he had pleaded weariness, his body was exhausted from the day’s events. His mind, however, droned over and over each little detail, none of which he cared to remember. In fact, if he could just forget the whole thing and get a decent three hours of sleep, life might not look so bleak. As it was, though, random faces popped up to remind him how very incompetent the general populous was.

Wait. Incompetent?

“Hah! I’m turning into Snape.”

With a muffled groan, he turned over onto his stomach, determined to catch some sleep. The day replayed again, this time from the beginning. After his initial ‘induction’ into the room, it seemed he was the last to arrive; the group was split into two. Harry was surprised to see Draco there among other various adults he didn’t recognize. The two exchanged insults, as was expected, though Harry noticed a distinct lacking in both attack and retort between them. Among them all, Harry had to admit that he was thankful he had been paired with the blond man in the end. They were evenly matched while the others… well. Harry repressed a shudder when Madam Vil’s rather large memory surfaced. The woman was huge, not that it mattered, but she was also incapable of working with a wand. Both Harry and Draco had chuckled over her attempts, though Harry did try to make pleasant conversation while Draco simply ignored the woman. In the end it didn’t matter as she was schooled out of the group in one of the first cuts.

All in all it had felt like a sporting tryout. Gather whoever felt the urge to teach and filter out those incapable. None of the tests had been overly difficult, like stealing golden eggs from protective dragons for instance, but between trying to put up a pleasant front, defend against seemingly random hexes, and keep an eye out for any more possible death blows from the Headmaster, Harry was simply too drained to stand for any more of it. One more comment from that chatterbox Walter and he would have strangled the man.

Although there had been one other there that had a superior grasp of defense. At first, Harry had mistaken the woman for Professor Snape, she had been done up in black much like the potions teacher. Key differences soon made themselves known, however. The woman, whom Harry still did not have a name for, had worked without a wand. That in itself wasn’t entirely surprising. Harry could, if needed, work wandless magic, as could Draco and Hermionie. Ron, too, was learning the tricks and, if Harry wasn’t mistaken, Ginny seemed to have a fairly good grasp of it. What set her apart, aside from the fact that she didn’t seem to gesture either, was that her whole presence seemed focused on not being seen, heard, or noticed in any way.

But then again, if Snape’s presence screamed Death Eater, this woman’s sent the whole concept of possible escape into the far reaches of the deepest black hole. She held an air about her that left no doubt as to the power she could wield, but the intimidation struck Harry as a warning. Frightening, yes, if you got on her bad side, but restrained until provoked. The young wizard would not be surprised if she was chosen as the new defense teacher, though perhaps Dumbledore would want someone a little less… secluded. It was the comforting thought that perhaps he wouldn’t have to teach after all that finally sent Harry into a restless sleep.

--//--

“Mister Harry Potter SIR!” The overly excited squeal of a house elf had Harry launching out of bed, wand in hand, and said house elf suspended upside down a good five feet above the floor before either of them could take another breath. In the next instant, Harry recognized his would be accoster and replaced him on the ground, collapsing back on the bed with a groan and a muttered apology. This was not the way to start a morning. Morning? Harry glanced to his bedside clock. Two AM. As wished, he’d slept for three hours. It didn’t feel like it.

“Dobby, do you always wake people at such ungodly hours or am I just a special case?”

“Dobby is sorry he woke Harry Potter, sir. Dobby didn’t know mister Harry Potter would be here. Dobby wasn’t prepared.” His voice was meek. Thin arms were wrapped about his head while he cowered in a corner. The fresh sheets he had brought in lay sprawled on the floor, forgotten. “Dobby is most sorry Harry Potter sir can he forgive Dobby? Dobby is most sorry!”

“All right, all right, yes. Seeing as I’m up anyway can you get me some tea?”

“Yes, Mister Harry Potter can have anything! Dobby will clean and get Harry Potter his tea!” The elf scrambled for the sheets, bundling them in his scrawny arms and nodding his assent furiously, ears flapping. He paused suddenly. “What kind of tea does mister Harry Potter want?”

Harry didn’t give a damn what kind of tea he drank, he just wanted to sleep. “Anything. Be sure it’s strong.”

Dobby resumed his nodding and disappeared with a pop. Before Harry could think about falling back asleep, another pop signaled his return. Harry sat up- and almost died of heart failure.

At the foot of his bed was not Dobby the house elf, but rather, the silent woman from the day before. He gripped his wand but his brain had already convinced him that if she could get into his room without triggering a single ward than he stood little chance against her if she wanted him dead. A spike of fear slithered over his skin and set his nerves to ice. She hadn’t touched his proximity ward but Harry didn’t think it would stand against her for long. It then occurred to him that she hadn’t just walked in here. In fact, she had appeared in a similar manner as the house elves. Harry wondered if it was a spell of some kind, perhaps a projection of an image.

His eyes narrowed minutely as he looked her up and down. Raven black hair so dark that it cast blue shadows was brutally restrained at the base of her neck where it fell some length down her back. She didn’t wear the common garb for a wizard he had ever seen but it, in its simplicity, seemed to fit her well. A black, long-sleeve tunic, sash, and breeches with well used, leather, ankle-high boots were all that she wore. The small ebony handle of a dagger caught his eye, it was all but buried in the sash, well hidden yet easily accessible. He found a second, also in the sash. A third and fourth on the inside of her boots. Harry wondered how many more she carried on her person that he couldn’t see or even guess at the locations of.

She wasn’t very tall, he noticed. In fact, she didn’t look to be much over five feet. This came as a surprise, though the realization was well hidden under a carefully controlled expression of bemused interest. She didn’t have a remarkable face or a notable build. It occurred to the wizard that, had he met her in passing, he probably wouldn’t even notice her. It also occurred to him that that was exactly the intent. He didn’t even bother wonder where her wand was, he already knew she didn’t need it.

Stretched silence suddenly snapped when her voice split the air. Harry’s attention whipped to her face abruptly. Her voice wasn’t notable either. It was quiet like the voice of someone who didn’t want to be overheard, but didn’t need to worry about it either. It was strong. There was an absolute confidence in its tone that Harry didn’t think even Snape’s rivaled. That in itself was absolutely terrifying. One didn’t gain a confidence like that unless it was true.

“Be wary of those around you, young wizard. Danger is abound this night.”

Harry brushed a finger over his scar reflexively. It had been silent for the past few weeks. “Who are you?”

“Who do you want me to be?”

What? Harry filed the question away and refined his own. “What is your name, then.”

“I have many.”

“Please don’t go all-knowing on me. I get enough of that from Albus.” His interjection was harsh.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “But many call me Eyrnis.”

Harry suddenly felt twelve again. He bit his lip, but he wouldn’t apologize. “Alright then… Eyrnis… What danger?”

“I know not the origin, nor the form of attack.”

“Why are you telling me?” oh, and why are we having this bizarre conversation at two in the morning as if it’s the most normal thing in the world?!

“Because it is possible to do so.”

What? He filed that comment away as well, wondering why it seemed like the answer to both his questions, not just the one he voiced.

“Ok, how did you get in here?”

Pause. “Ask the elf.”

Pop. Pop.

The woman was gone. Dobby was back. And with tea. “Is mister Harry Potter sir alright?!!”

“I’m fine Dobby, what makes you think otherwise?”

“Dobby couldn’t-“ His face suddenly screwed up and he bit his tongue as if making the strangest face possible could help his thought process along. Just as suddenly he relaxed and looked about as if he had forgotten what he was doing. Harry knew a spell when he saw one, the fact that he hadn’t felt it lead him to believe it was Eyrnis who had cast it. Dobby then noticed he was carrying tea. “Dobby has Harry Potter’s tea!”

Harry accepted the warm cup and took a long drink. The flavor hit him hard, he breathed in the smell of mint and cinnamon. Dobby refilled the cup. “Does Harry Potter like his tea?”

“Yes, thank you Dobby.”

“Why does Harry hold his wand so tightly? He will hurt his hand!”

He looked down to see that he held his wand in a death grip. Damn. Harry set his wand on the bedside table and kicked the second cup of tea down his throat. Bugger it, where’s the scotch?

“Is mister Harry Potter wanting anything else?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” He waved a hand at the elf, indicating he could leave. He then held up his hand, remembering what the woman had said. “No! Wait, Dobby!”

The elf looked at him expectantly.

“How is it that you get around without bothering any of the wards?”

“Wards, sir?”

“The magical barriers around the rooms and such.”

“Oh, you mean the Yotel?”

…the what? “Er…” The confusion must have been evident on his face because the elf smiled.

“These things?” Harry felt a vibration resonate through his wards, like a string being plucked. Pure fear settled in Harry’s gut. The elf hadn’t even looked for the wards… He nodded dumbly, shocked that the elf could simply reach out and touch them like they were tangible cords.

“Easy! Dobby simply goes around!” And with that he was gone again. Around? Suddenly afraid that perhaps his wards had fallen without him noticing, Harry mentally probed the walls. His mind turned a slow circle coming to rest where it began. No holes. Right. I’m losing my mind. Time to leave.

Harry showered and changed in a record three minutes, expecting someone to pop in on his shower every second. He mentally checked himself. Wand, cloak, wards (not that they seemed to be helping), mask, and it’s only two thirty. He strode toward the door, with every intent of abandoning the castle for at least the morning. He needed to calm down. The tell tale pop of someone entering his room had him frozen, one hand on the knob.

“Ah, Harry, I’m glad I caught you.” No… not you too… Harry turned very slowly to find the Headmaster smiling at him softly, his eyes twinkling. With all the speed he had shown last night, Harry spun, wrenched the door open, moved through, and yanked it closed, casting every locking charm he could think of. He stared at the door, daring it to open, breathing hard.

“Oh! Good morning, Harry.”

Harry spun and plastered his back to the door, eyes wide and breath coming in gasps of suddenly heavy air. What the bloody hell is with these people jumping me at two in the bloody fucking morning?! … Hermione? Harry didn’t try to understand why she was there. He didn’t try to comprehend why people could pop in and out of warded rooms as if they were Santa Clause. He didn’t try to guess at the plot that shimmered behind the Headmaster’s eyes or even why Dobby could reach out and strum his wards like a banjo. He simply fled. Hermione’s startled voice echoed down the stairs after him.