Harry Potter and assorted characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. All situations outside of cannon are of my own design, although no disrespect is intended if any is perceived.

Shattered Core Syndrome

The Price

Hermione Granger was, at the moment, not a happy person. She sat at the long table for the Gryffindors in the Great Hall eating quietly, Ron inhaling large amounts of food in between breaths next to her, Harry still nowhere to be found. When the train had docked at Hogsmeade, she excused herself from Ron and the stranger, and ran out of the car and watched as everyone departed, catching no sign of him. The boy was too distinctive to miss, no matter how big the crowd, and yet he had somehow evaded her. Again. After some thought, she concluded he must have used the invisibility cloak, although the reason he would do something like that was unclear. Figuring that she would be able to find him during the sorting, she finally left.

When the sorting came and went, and Harry was still nowhere to be found, she became worried. She looked at the head table, to see if any of them had noticed that he wasn't present, like he had almost always been. Professors Sprout, Sinistra, and others that had no interest in him outside of his attendance and grades gave no knowledge that they had noticed. Others, most noticeably being Hagrid, McGonagall, and Snape kept giving discreet glances her way, before scanning the other areas of the her house table and then the others. Hagrid and McGonagall wore worried expressions on their faces, while Snape's was of curiosity. Dumbledore, if he knew anything(and she was sure he did), wasn't giving anything away, his poker face well in place.

The strangeness didn't end there however. With the new year came a new DADA Professor, a horrible, toad-faced, little woman, whose whole demeanor could be summed up in three words: Satan in Pink. Hermione could almost swear that the woman's curriculum was probably composed of "This is your wand(Support the Ministry). When pointed at people or objects, it can do bad things(Believe in the Ministry). Be careful(Listen to the Minister of Magic). All non humans are bad(Obey the ministry)."

 To learn without progressing magically made no sense to her. Without innovation and the evolution of techniques and skills and spells, the magical world will stagnate. Progress for the sake of progress was bad her perfect pale arse! Umbridge's plan was a recipe for failure, of that she was certain. Although she dare not admit it aloud(Especially around Ron and/or Harry... but mostly Ron), her ingrained respect and admiration for authority figures was waning with each passing day. For those curious as to why, simply look at her past four years at Hogwarts and all questions would be quickly answered.

And then there was the matter of Harry's familiar, Hedwig. What struck her as truly odd, and added to her already burgeoning worry, was that Hedwig, normally known to be in the owlery at this time, had been resting next to her on the table, and had been for the last half hour. The raptor didn't appear to be in any harm or stressed at any level, but she couldn't put her finger on it... something was really off about her. She seemed... bored, or depressed. Hermione couldn't really tell. As she pet the owls feathers, a single question popped into her head and would not leave her be, no matter how much sense it made. If Hedwig was here, where was her master?

Hermione sighed to herself, sparing a glance at the gaping, cavernous, landfill-like maw that was Ron Weasley's mouth. Wanting nothing more than to see Harry and ensure that he was alive and well, she decided to corner McGonagall and interrogate the woman as to what she knew about her wayward best friend. She would have to wait for the right moment to do so, however. To go up to the Head Table right now would draw unnecessary attention to her, and might be detrimental to her... uh, investigation of sorts. Hermione decided that she would wait until the Great Hall cleared out some; perhaps as the Deputy Headmistress was leaving for the evening?

As the feast was drawing to a close, and people were getting ready to leave to the comfort of their beds, she rose and made her way to the head table to get what she needed from her favorite instructor. Unfortunately, as damnable always, something had to interrupt her from getting the clues before it was already too late to do anything about it. How joyous.

Argus Filch, the caretaker for Hogwarts, pushed and shoved students out of his way, shouting for them to move before he got to them. The look of indescribable terror on his craggy, aged features parting them like Moses before the Red Sea. He hobbled in a rush towards the headmaster, stutter stepping around the table to meet him from behind. The custodian leaned down to his right and whispered into his ear. Whatever it was, it wasn't likely to be pleasant.

Dumbledore's eyes widened almost impossibly huge, while his face bleached almost bone white. No... it probably wasn't at all.

o0oOo0o

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had seen much in his almost one and a half centuries of life. Much was light, ever so much more was pure darkness in all but name.

Wars, both magical and muggle, had raged in earlier days, and some continued to this day in secret. Many lives, Too many if he was ever asked, had been lost; talented wizards and witches slain for no better reason than blood status, or as was the case in the last one, lack thereof. He had then, and still now, hated mankind’s propensity for war; the need, the desire for the blood of ones enemies to be spilt, to wade through it, feel it lap at their ankles like waves on a lakes shore, and all too often for the worst of reasons. Pureblood versus Muggleborn. Aryan versus Jew. Christianity versus Islam. No matter what he did, nothing seemed to matter. It seemed the innocent are destined to die at the hands of the corrupt.

He had seen good too. Great Good. Smiles of children, proud parents ecstatic over their children’s academic successes, or quiditch wins. Countries once bitter enemies putting aside their differences to take on a great evil. The look in the eyes of soldiers as victory was announced, proclaiming to everyone that all was right with the world once more. Grindelwald was defeated, Hitler dead, Voldemort gone( the first time anyway), Polpot, Ho Chi Minh... the list goes on, but their reigns of terror ended.

His most favored times, the times that most frequently visited the forefront of his conscious mind, were from when he was an instructor, here, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Impressing upon students the proper ways of their birthright and heritage, their right as wizards and witches to practice magic. He saw wonders and feats of magic, some of which were performed by himself, during his tenure as a teacher of Transfiguration. Oh how he wished he could go back to those simpler times, before everything went all so very wrong...

Throughout his time here at Hogwarts, as a student, an instructor, and now the headmaster, he'd bore witness to countless accidents and fights, several of which were life threatening. But, all were healed. All save one. Myrtle Martinell. Fifth Year Ravenclaw. Would have been class of '51, but she met a truly unfortunate end at the hand of Tom Riddle via the basilisk, her ghost still haunting the site of her death even now. After Riddle had disappeared all those years ago, before Voldemort's insurrection and eventual downfall, he swore to himself that he would not allow for another life to be lost as long as he served as headmaster. The oath was tested greatly during Harry's second year, with luck being the major reason the petrified victims survived. A puddle, a camera, a ghost, and a mirror... yes, luck indeed had a role in that.

But it seems his luck had finally run out, as it is wont to do eventually.

For you see, what the old caretaker had to say to him, that chilled his blood so, was almost too greatly abhorrent to be true, to be believed. It simply could not be... but it must be all the same. Dumbledore knew what needed to be done, and it needed to be done immediately. Commanding the old castle to do his bidding, he sealed the doors to the Great Hall, noticing that thankfully few students that were in attendance had left the hall recently. As he had seen the looks of panic on the faces of the students, he settled himself, cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and spoke aloud, so that all students, throughout the school, could hear him.

"Attention students, I have a most dire missive to deliver. It seems that our esteemed caretaker came upon a scene of indescribable carnage, the end result being the remains of what appears to be a dead animal of unknown origin, and three injured students. I must ask that all those out in the halls proceed immediately to their dorms, while I ask those of you still in the great hall to please be patient while this... incident, is thoroughly investigated. It is unclear if there are more of these... creatures, so I must ask that the orders previously given be completed expeditiously. To ensure the safety of all, I will be calling for an auror detachment to investigate the scene for foul play. That is all."

With that, he turned to his right and whispered orders to his Deputy Headmistress to keep watch over the children in the Great Hall, and to keep them calm. At her nod, he then turned to his potions professor and beckoned him forward. "You and I must follow Argus to where this travesty occurred. From what little he was able to discern from the mess in that corridor, I believe that one of the students might be Mr. Malfoy, but the damage done to the survivors was extensive. Argus has told me that Poppy is already there, attempting to stave off what may be the inevitable. Come, we must hurry."

Severus Snape nodded, gesturing for the custodian to lead on. In his mind, he thought, I'm going to need a drink after this. A hard one. Perhaps a few shots of Ogden’s will be necessary. But before the night was over, he would drink that and more.

o0oOo0o

 As they left the Great Hall through a side passage, the doors shut quickly after they collectively passed the threshold. The new DADA Professor, Dolores Umbridge, made to follow, but the doors slammed loudly in her face. Were they inclined and able, they would have seen her sputtering uselessly on the other side of the door, face red with indignation.

As the caretaker limped quickly some ways ahead of them, his footsteps reverberating through the expansive stone halls, Snape whispered to the Headmaster, "What did he say exactly, Albus? I must know."

At his insistent gaze, Dumbledore's shoulders sagged, and at that moment, he looked every bit his 148 years. He leaned down a little to reply, "His precise words were: 'Headmaster, you must come quickly, there's been a terrible murder. One of the students, a Slytherin, I'm sure of it, has been brutally eviscerated and crushed, rent asunder in all but proper wording, sir. There are also three others, but still alive, though from the damage I saw, I'm not sure they'd want to be. One I can tell may be the Malfoy boy, only on account of the blond in his hair, but with all the blood it's hard to say for certain, and what might be a Prefects Badge.

"'The other two... they were just as bad as him, but they was too nondescript to identify. I've already sent a note with Mrs. Norris to Ms. Pomfrey to come quick, I assume she will be there before us.'" As they moved as quickly as Filch could lead, Severus noticed a thoughtful look upon his face. When Dumbledore once again looked at his confidante, he voiced his thoughts aloud to him. "What strikes me as peculiar, is that none of the wards gave even a remote warning of what happened. Nothing, Severus, nothing at all. This has me most perplexed, and not a little bit worried."

Professor Snape gave no reply as they continued on. Although his mind was processing the data he just received, the majority of his concern lay with what may or may not be the desecrated shell that was his Godson. The boy had been acting mildly peculiar throughout the summer, sending secret letters to an unknown person all through the holiday period. It was to a girl, of that he was sure, but he sincerely doubted it was Parkinson. He had also been acting, what he termed, "above his station". As if he were the Dark Lord's right hand man. Idiot boy, takes too much after his father.

These thoughts stayed with him as they rounded the final corner and made their way to the dead end corridor, where Madame Pomfrey was indeed already there. The closer they got to the scene of the crime, Argus Filch slowed his pace, ever so slightly. And with good reason.

On the right side of the corridor lay the broken, but alive, bodies of Mafoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, of that Professor Snape was certain. Their limbs were twisted in impossible angles, and although there was blood, there were only minute splatters on the wall behind them, and several small pools beneath them, most of which was blood, already drying and turning black, the rest of which was the end result of overwhelming fear when applied to one's colon and bladder. And, as if to add insult to severe injury, they were stripped naked, their clothes were in neat stacks in front of them.

Madame Pomfrey was currently attending to them, dealing with the worst of the injuries to ensure that they might live to see tomorrow. So far, it seemed promising. The fourth victim However, was beyond any medical assistance, no matter how skilled.

On the left side of the corridor, the destroyed corpse of what appeared to be a boy was still bleeding from the wide open lacerations that scored his body; from his scalp to the soles of his feet, they formed a disturbing jigsaw puzzle when they connected. There was blood. EVERYWHERE. The floors... walls... It was recent, not even a half hour old, of that the two of them were sure, as the blood had yet to coagulate, it being still red instead of the black it turned to when dried.

 "Sweet Merlin", Snape said in a hoarse whisper, as if speaking any louder would draw the attention of whatever it was that did this, somehow knowing deep inside that it was a human and not a beast that did this. Only man was capable of such disregard for life to cause such damage to another.

The boy's chest cavity was ripped open, ribs splayed open like mortuary gates, internal organs strewn about haphazardly in a semi circle from the epicenter that was his husk. The cavity that was his torso had a small pool of blood building in the deepest recesses of his body. His groin area had seen the most damage, his genitals crushed into nothing, a great hole existing where they used to be, leaking blood from his torso like a reservoir.

 The head of the corpse was tilted at an upward angle, eyes wide, pupils still dilated, staring into nothing, the skin of his face laying some three feet to his left. The jaw had been broken in several places, giving the impression that the bone of his lower jaw were made of dough. The flesh that made up his cheeks was slashed through to the joint of the lower mandible straight through to the skull, allowing for his chin to rest scant inches from his spinal column on the inside, an action that would have been impossible under normal means, for obvious reasons. His tongue lolled from the left side of his face, the deep lacerations separating his jaws making his tongue seem longer, now that more of it was displayed. The carnage of what had been done to him was... indescribable. There were simply no words nor any possible reason for what was done to this poor boy... at least not before one looked higher on the wall behind him.

At the junction, where the wall met the ceiling, in plain, simple script, written in what was most likely the blood of the victim below it, was this:

"I will Nott suffer a rapist to live, not now, not ever."

o0oOo0o

Back in the Great Hall Hermione was contemplating either going up to Professor McGonagall, or waiting for a more opportune time. The chaos that was reigning free at the moment was not making it any easier on her, what with the loud shouting going on as speculation as to who the three students identities were. That one of them might be Harry made her almost frantic with concern. People were fast becoming unraveled as well, as worry began to anchor itself to the surface of everyone’s mind. Friends and family members were out there, possibly dying or disfigured, all the while none of them would know anything beyond the four walls around them.

Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister of Magic, Hem-Hemed her fat, toad faced arse to no effect. When she used the Sonorus to garner the attention of the trapped student body, it resulted in a wave of spell work sent her way. "Well! I never-", and she never got any further either, as she fell flat on her face, caught unawares from behind with a stunner. "You have now, lady!", a voice said from one of the gathered crowds. It was met with cheers from the student body as a whole.

Professor McGonagall, albeit a witness to this trampling of school authority, simply disregarded that anything happened out of the ordinary, seeing as how she hated what the woman stood for, and detested that woman herself with a passion. She soon took charge and had the mobs, who were raising their pitchforks and lighting their torches, quelled before they became problematic. Well, it worked initially, but after the first twenty minutes it was getting harder to control them without the use of force, even with the rest of the faculty aiding her. With tensions high with worry, and as fists were about to fly, the pressure in the room dropped dramatically when a serving tray flew across the Hall and slammed into the wall.

"Shut up, Shut up, Shut up, SHUT THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL UP!!!" And, lo and behold, they did. While it was no surprise that a Gryffindor was the one to try something so drastic, it was an eye opener that it came not from Ginny Weasley, whose fist was raised with the intent to lay her brother down, but from Hermione Granger. She stood atop one of her house table's benches, face red with fury, chest rapidly expanding and contracting with the effort of yelling. The crowd stood dumbfounded, jaws dropped, and eyes wide. Hurricane Hermione was pounding the shores, and was unrelenting.

"I want everyone to calm down, sit down, and: shut. up." To her surprise, as well as that of the faculty, and even the students own, they complied. "Now, I know that you all are worried about your friends and such... but at the moment there is nothing we can do. I know you all feel powerless... believe me when I say that you're not alone, because so do I. But there is nothing. we. can. do. So please, just wait until the Headmaster returns, or, with the Deputy Headmistress' permission, the Prefects can collect the names of those in their house, give them to her, and lead them to their respective dorms. Professor?"

Minerva McGonagall shook herself from her shock, and gave a nod. "Yes, that would be a most excellent idea Ms. Granger. If all the Prefects present would please take down the names of their house members that are here in the Great Hall; after we verify the lists, the Heads of House will lead their students to their respective dormitories. In the place of Professor Snape of Slytherin House, we will use... Professor Sinistra. Quickly Now! The faster we get the names, and verify them, the faster we can get you to a comfortable bed to rest and verify the safety of your friends."

As the Prefects were gathering parchment and having their housemates line up single file, Hermione went up to Ron and asked him to get the names. He had other ideas. "Why me? Why not you or the other two?"

"One, we're fifth years, they're sixth years, and one of them isn't here anyway. Two, Unlike you I have to speak to our head of house about something important. Three, make it legible Ron; if I can't read it, I'll make you write it again. Four, if you weasel your way out of this, I will push you down the stairs when you're not looking. We clear?"

Ron Weasley was not now, nor will he probably every be, a tactful man. But even he saw how frayed around the edges she was, and knew on some survival induced, instinctual level that, if he was to fight her on this, it would be very painful down the road. Literally. So, with a squeak, he gave her his whispered response, "Crystal."

She stared into his eyes, as if daring him to defy her. Seeing nothing but obedience, she gave a brisk nod, turned around, and headed toward McGonagall, while Ron picked up some parchment and a quill and quickly began taking down names. A moment later he was joined by Alicia Spinnet, who was forming a line from his, cutting it in half. When he gave her a curious look, she looked him in the eyes and said, "Life is short enough as it is Ronnikins, the last thing I need is her on my arse for something as small as this", to which he nodded in agreement.

As they were taking the names of the other Gryffindors, Alicia leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Would she really?"

"Really What?"

"You know... push you down the stairs."

He froze midway through Romilda Vane's name as he honestly contemplated it, his posture stock still. When he turned his eyes on her, they were wide and fearful. "Would you really want to find out?" At her rapid head shake, he said, "Me either."

o0oOo0o

Back in the corridor, things were not going so smoothly. Madame Pomfrey had just finished stabilizing the three Slytherin boys, their identities confirmed when their wands were found in the pockets of their robes. The Headmaster had left temporarily and returned with the auror team of Shacklebolt and Tonks, as well as a team of mediwitches from St. Mungo's. The medics placed them on floating cots and drew them from the area with the intent to take them to the intensive care ward at St. Mungo's, via the fireplace in the medical ward of Hogwarts. After Filch was questioned as to what he'd seen, he escorted the mediwitches to their destination. Now that the survivors were safely on their way to the hospital, all that was left was to find out who the fourth victim's identity was.

"...I Believe it to be Theodore Nott Jr. sir", Professor Snape said, still staring at the message on the wall. "I am most sure of it."

"Came to that conclusion as well, old friend?", Dumbledore had said, a small, sad smile graced his tired features. His shoulders were sagging, and he was leaning heavily against the wall with his left hand, the brutality of the murder taking it's toll on him as well, much to the surprise of the others present.

"How can you tell?!", Madame Pomfrey had said, her voice betraying that she was on the verge of hysterics, "I mean, the poor child doesn't even have a face! His wand is a burnt pile of ash... so much blood..."

The Headmaster laid a comforting hand upon her shoulder, startling her out of her horrifying reverie, and looking her in the eye, said, "Calm yourself Poppy. I regret that you must see this, but it is imperative that you not lose your composure. It is truly terrible yes, but we must focus on finding the killer, or killers. This may not be the last we have seen of this display, and I will need you calm, and collected should it happen again.

"Now, to answer your question, we believe it to be Nott due to the wording of the message above him. It says 'I will Nott', with two T's. Seeing as how everything else was spelled correctly, it is a safe assumption that a simple word like 'not' would not be misspelled by mistake, proving that it was intentional. Also, the robes of the victim clearly displays the Slytherin Coat of Arms, which due to the damage of the robe, and the lack of magical residue to the robes themselves, it can safely be concluded that they were not tampered with, and that the emblem shown is the real one. Now that we know the identity of the victim in question, it will make it easier to find out if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary."

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?", Shacklebolt asked, his deep resonating voice carrying inflections of alarm, "I think you might want to see this."

At this, a puzzled look scrunched his features, and, taking his leave of the mediwitch, walked over to the aurors. When he walked the few steps to them, he saw the senior auror holding two wands, while Tonks was performing the wand movements for a Prior Incantato to check the remaining wand for recent spells used. The results were disturbing.

The wand displayed a wispy smoke of over thirty spells, all of them either cutting curses or shields. That explains some of what happened to the body, he thought to himself, but does not give a reason or motive to perform such a crime, nor the rest of the damage inflicted upon Nott. "And the other two?", he asked, looking at Kingsley.

"The same sir, nothing but cutters or shields", he said with a sigh. After a moments thought he said, "The three boys, I don't think they did it. The evidence doesn't add up."

"Oh? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"It's Obvious, Headmaster", Snape said, still looking at the message on the wall. After a moment more, he turned to face the three and said, "May I propose my hypothesis, Senior Auror Shacklebolt?" At his nod he proceeded, "It's in the blood gentlemen... and lady. My apologies Auror Tonks, no disrespect was intended. As I was saying, the blood. The blood stains for Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were older, darker, and all but completely dried when we had arrived, while that of Nott was, and still is, very wet, pooling in the cavities and recesses of his torso, and just barely cooling. This means that the trio was already beaten and unconscious before Nott died. It proves their innocence, as will a dose of veritaserum if needed. I will be the first to admit that their character leaves much to be desired, but I sincerely doubt they are murderers, especially to one of their own. No matter how their views differed, if they differed at all, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle did not kill Nott Jr.."

Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded his head, saying, "I agree Professor, and although their wands tell a different tale, I believe it to be more a bard's yarn than factual data. But I must say, I noticed that you said that they did not kill him, but not that they were incapable of doing so. Why?"

"He is human, Senior Auror, just like you and I", Snape said. He looked down where Nott's burnt wand lay, a sneer directed at nothing and no one in particular cut across his face. "Given the proper situation or reason, or in some cases no reasons at all, we are all capable of killing."

o0oOo0o

Hermione stared at her transfiguration instructor with a look of disbelief plastered on her face. "What do you mean you don’t know where Harry is?!",her voice barely above a harsh whisper, but she might as well have screamed it at her teacher with the way it was affecting her.

"First the Headmaster tells me that I can't contact him for reasons pertaining to his safety. I can somewhat agree with that. Besides, my concern for his safety was the only reason I followed along anyway. Then, for reasons unknown to any of us at headquarters, and Dumbledore helps not at all by not telling us squat about why, he decides to stay at the Dursley's for the remainder of the summer. That's just baffling. I begged Dumbledore to allow one of us to check on him, but he never wrote me back. I can only assume he read the letter, and after finishing, used it to fuel the fire in his office. 

"And then, I wait for him on the damn Hogwarts Express, only to get attacked by Goddamn Malfoy and saved by some 5th year Gryffindor boy I didn't know, whom I still don't know the identity of even after I've listed them all, and when the damn train drops us off at Hogsmeade, I didn't see him leave the train. And now, Now you tell me you don't know where the hell he is?!"

 The girl was all but on the verge of having a stress induced cardiac arrest, or exploding in rage, at this point; her face was red with exertion, eyes beginning to tear up, and body shivering with stress and worry. She needed Harry safe and sound in front of her or she was going to do some disturbingly unpleasant things to her fellow Hogwarts students, things better left unsaid. In absolute layman’s terms: Hermione Granger was a short, flaming cunt hair away from exploding and killing everyone in the Great Hall, and she'd do it too if she didn't find Harry soon.

"Ms. Granger! Calm yourself this instant! You're causing a scene!", McGonagall whispered to one of her two favorite students, this one on the verge of a nervous breakdown. While she watched Hermione forcibly calm herself down, Minerva did much the same thing, the girl had raised her blood pressure substantially. When they both were relaxed enough to carry a conversation, she continued. "Now, I said that I didn't know where he was, nor whether or not he here in the castle. But the Headmaster informed me earlier that he felt Mr. Potter enter the wards about 45 minutes after the last carriage arrived at the front gates.

"Although the Headmaster was unable discern where he entered the school from, nor was he able to locate him afterward, he is absolutely certain that he is in the castle. He may already be in his dorm, relaxing. Albus has told me that he was working on some sort of project while living with those horrible muggle relatives of his. He may just be tired and taking a small kip to rest himself. I'm sure there is nothing to worry about dear, so Please remain calm. There are first years still present."

She blushed slightly at the admonition, her face lowered in shame. "Sorry Professor, I don't know what came over me."

McGonagall patted her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, a knowing smile gracing her face, making her appear younger than she was. "Don't be sorry. Just... try to maintain some semblance of control next time, hmm? Concern for a loved one makes us do crazy things. I'm sure Harry is fine. He always is."

Hermione nodded and made her way back to Ron, noticing Alicia sitting next to him, the last lion walking away from them as the task was completed. "All done then?", she asked shyly, fully aware of how she acted earlier was rude and shouldn't have been done now that she was thinking a little clearer.

He collected the parchment from Alicia before turning to her with the combined full list in his outstretched hand, the other rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, Fear for one's life is an outstanding motivator."

She looked abashed, her face turning a deep pink as she blushed for the second time in so many minutes. "Oh Ron, I-I'm so sorry, I-"

"Not a problem. I know you're worried about him, and I'm a little worried me self. Something ain't-

"Isn't, Ronald."

"Isn't right about all of this. I just can't think of what it might be."

"Me either", she said dejectedly before taking the list. "I'm going to get this to Professor McGonagall... see if we can't get back to the common room and see if Harry beat us there, yeah? Maybe we can pump his for answers as to why he hasn't talked to us all summer."

"Right."

With a smile now on her face, she headed back to the Deputy Headmistress with the list. After she called out the names on the list, verifying that all students were accounted for, she turned to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, your house members have been accounted for. I've sent a house elf to the Headmaster, and he has given permission to let the students be escorted to their common rooms. I am sorry to say that I must remain here until all the students have been safely returned to their dorms", at this Hermione was about to protest when she raised her hand to quiet her, continuing with, "that does not mean you will be the last to leave. Professor Vector has volunteered to escort the Gryffindor students. You may leave now, but be careful. We don't know what is in this castle with us, nor whether or not it is malevolent. Take caution my dear."

"Thank you professor, and we will." As soon as the students were collected in a group, they left the Great Hall through the giant double doors, Septima Vector, her wand out, lead them through the castle to the Gryffindor tower. The walk to the dorms was quiet and thankfully uneventful. When the password was said and the Fat Lady opened her door, too slowly for Hermione's tastes, she all but flew through the portal and ran to Harry's dorm room. Here she received the last shock her mind could take before she collapsed, unconscious.

Neither Harry nor his belongings were there.

o0oOo0o

Professor Snape was finally able to leave the scene after another three hours of senseless speculation about how it happened within the halls of Hogwarts with out anyone knowing. He sat on an easy chair in his private quarters, a bottle of Ogden's in one hand, a crystal tumbler in the other filled almost to the brim with the amber liquid. He took three deep gulps from the glass, emptying it quickly, wincing from the pleasant burn of the drink. After he'd relaxed somewhat, he poured himself another glass, though not quite as much. Thinking over the events of evening, he sighed to himself.

At the moment no one beyond those that were present for the investigation knew anything about what happened, or even that it happened. After a talk with the school's governors, it was unanimously decided that this information will not be open to the press. The school had enough bad press as it was, what with the tragedies of last year still fresh on the minds of the wizarding public. Though now Dumbledore was on obscenely thin ice at the moment.

Since there were no paintings in that corridor, there were no witnesses to the event. The paintings just before the corridor saw several people enter and leave the corridor, but were unable, for some unknown reason, to identify them. At the moment there was talk of brining in Croaker or Bode to discern if dark or unknown magics were used in the murder. Severus was relatively certain that this would happen.

He took another great gulp of firewhiskey. He was tired of all this nonsense, and wanted to be done with it all. The second rise of the dark lord, the efforts to end his regime permanently... all of it. He was getting too old for this, he wasn't a young man anymore. He just wanted it to be over already. As if somehow hearing him, the fates seemed to grant his wish, albeit unknowingly. A strange wind began to blow, ruffling his robes some, but it escaped his attention, his mind on other matters. The voice that followed didn't.

 Hello Professor Snape.

o0oOo0o

I know that I said this is the chapter to explain it all, but my mind seemed to disagree, wanting to give a go at fleshing out the characters a bit instead. Hope it worked. The next chapter, without a doubt, will be what the these last two chapters were supposed to be. In truth, the previous chapter, this one, and the next were all supposed to be one chapter. You can probably see why I decided to cut them into pieces. I find it strange that the chapters seem to be getting longer, as either I'm sucking at this, or it's flowing that well.

This was supposed to be about ten chapters long. With the way things are going, it might be longer. Still, if the reviews are anything, I guess it's a decent read.

New Note: read through this again while writing the fourth chapter, and noticed an inconsistency, in that when I described the scene in the corridor, I said that Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe's wands were broken, yet later I said that they were in their back pockets. Fixed it and several other errors. I hate making mistakes almost as much as I hate reading a fanfic riddled with them, so please, if any of you see any others, send me a note if you would, it would be much appreciated.