Albus Dumbledore was a happy man.

Oh, he was apprehensive a bit, but when one's own daughter has been placed in potential danger, any father would be apprehensive.

A faint voice screamed.

Crystal Methal was an addition to his life that had come as a bit of a surprise. A summer vacation some sixteen years ago had led to a liaison with a much younger woman and Crystal was the result. For her own safety, Dumbledore had forbidden her to ever come to England, instead having her attend Moosehall Prep, a school in the northern reaches of Canada, a place Voldemort, or Dumbledore's other enemies for that matter, would have no interest in.

There was, the voice screamed, something terribly wrong here.

But Crystal's letters had grown increasingly more insistent that she come to Hogwarts. From an educator's view, it was quite the feather in Hogwart's cap; Crystal had no need of a wand and had powers that could potentially outshine the most powerful witches and wizards of the age. There were rumors of other students, but Crystal was the only one Hogwarts knew of and she wanted to join the Order of The Phoenix in the war against Voldemort.

You don't know this person!

And while Dumbledore couldn't explain how she knew about the Order, it didn't seem to be important. He couldn't very well refuse his own child, could he?

Tall and slender almost to the point of being emanciated, Crystal was nonetheless a beautiful young witch with rounded curves and eyes that danced with mischevious glee. Her school robe was open, revealing that she was wearing shorts and a top that showed more skin than might be decent.

Nearby, Minerva McGonagall stood, smiling indulgently.

This is madness, somebody stop this!

"It's wonderful, Father," Crystal said. She blew a bubble of gum. "It's everything I wanted."

"Not quite," said a new voice. All three spun.

Sitting on the steps leading to the upper reaches of Dumbledore's office was a young man about Crystal's age. He was dressed in Muggle clothes, all black. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and he wore fingerless leather gloves. His smile was empty of emotion and his gray eyes were hard. He was athletic, but very skinny, as though he never ate well.

Crystal looked him up and down. "Who the fuck are you?" she demanded.

"You shouldn't talk like that in front of your father," the young man admonished, waving a finger in a tsking motion.

Crystal hugged Dumbledore. "Daddy doesn't care."

Dumbledore smiled beatifically down at his offspring. "Who's your friend, Crystal?"

"So fuck you," Crystal said to the intruder, completely ignoring Dumbledore's question.

If it was possible, the young man's smile became even emptier, his eyes harder. "The letters D.S.A. ring any bells?"

Crystal's reaction was immediate. She shoved Dumbledore away. "How the hell did you get here?" she snarled.

"What a nice name. I'll leave you and your friend to talk," Dumbledore said to Crystal. "Some tea, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'd love some, Albus," McGonagall replied.

The two walked towards the door as the intruder got to his feet, or rather, flowed to his feet.

"I'm not going back," Crystal said. "You'll have to kill me."

"Sounds like a plan," the intruder said as his pupils enlarged until his eyes were ebony-black orbs. His fingertips peeled back as claws of bone emerged. The gloves exploded into shreds as green vine-like tendrils flowed out of openings on the back of his hands, winding their way around his fingers, hands, and forearms. Blades of bone popped from his forearms, curving backwards as the holes of their emergence healed over. His ears lengthened as his nose shrank. More bone plates slid out of his cheeks and formed a sort of mask over his mouth and where his nose had been. Lastly, his shoes and the lower half of his pants tore as bone like armor seemed to grow out of his very skin and cover his lower legs and feet as his toes sprouted bone claws.

Dumbledore paused as his hand touched the door. His head suddenly felt funny. Like it had been packed with wool.

"Albus?" Minerva asked and then she too, began rubbing her head. There was a harsh buzzing, like a swarm of angry bees.

"Avada Kedavara!" Crystal shouted and Dumbledore staggered, as it felt like a giant hand had reached deep into his soul and yanked out parts of it.

"You missed me!" the intruder called. Dumbledore turned to see the young man hanging from the overhead lamp over the remains of the desk. Fawkes' stand had been overturned and Gryffindor's sword lay on the floor. A few papers lay on the floor, smoldering.

"This school is mine!" Crystal screamed. "All of them are mine!" You can't take it from me!" She raised her hand, nd Dumbledore felt that hand close around his soul. The air seemed to mist, as though he was in a thick fog.

The intruder leapt from the lamps as it exploded, plunging the room into darkness.

"Lumos," McGonagall snapped. The tip of her wand began to glow, revealing Crystal and the intruder staring at each other.

Crystal's mouth opened in a snarl, revealing needle sharp teeth as her eyes began to glow. Her fingers elongated and sprouted claws. She became unnaturally tall and thin, her hair a silvery white.

At some unseen cue, they lunged at each other. Slashing, punching, and kicking. Furniture was overturned, some of the cabinets were knocked over.

Get some tea, said a voice. Some nice hot tea. You don't need to sit around and listen to some teens talk. Take him and go get some tea.

McGonagall started to move to the door and then stopped, fighting the strange compulsion to leave the room.

Tea.

No.

Get some tea.

No. I refuse.

Tea. Now.

NO! With all her willpower and discipline, McGonagall lashed out the strange compulsion. BEGONE! Something unseen seemed to flee with a howl and for a moment, Crystal staggered and Dumbledore collapsed. Pausing only a moment to catch her breath, McGonagall raised her wand. "Expelliurmus!" Crystal ducked it, and the young man was sent flying, smashing into one of the bookcases and buried under the resulting hail of books and wood.

"Well," Crystal said softly. "I suppose I should thank you." Even her voice had changed, it seemed to come from a distance and was overlaid by a snarl.

"Leave here," McGonagall said. "Inform Voldemort that Hogwarts will not fall."

"Voldemort? You think I serve Voldemort? Voldemort is nothing. Nothing!" Crystal approached McGonagall and the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts felt the strange compulsion once more enter her mind like mist. Crystal was showing off a bit was all. So the room had gotten trashed a little bit. That's why there were--McGonagall shook her head, clinging to the reality of what she had just seen and pushed the compulsion back.

"So that's it." Crystal said. The glow in her eyes flared and McGonagall gasped as the compulsion slammed itself against her mind. Grabbing the door handle for support, McGonagall pushed back.

"What do you want?" McGonagall demanded. To her amazement, Crystal's face took on a lovesick expression, which on the decidedly inhuman countenance looked almost ridiculous.

"I want my Dracey-poo," Crystal purred and then, to McGonagall's horror, launched into a spiel of how she intended to reform Draco Malfoy with the power of true love. The only place such a...scenario would have been acceptable was a badly written romance novel for young Muggle girls.

Unnoticed, the pile of books and wood began to shift.

"You must realize he'll never go along with it. His hatred is in his blood. You can't reform--"

"I'LL MAKE HIM REFORM!" Crystal shouted, lunging forward, her claws narrowly missing McGonagall's head as they punctured the heavy wood door as though it was tissue paper. Her breath was fetid, warm and smelly and McGonagall somehow managed not to cringe.

Something rose up from the pile, something with glowing red eyes.

"He's mine," Crystal said softly. "He and the others will fight over me, but my heart is his and in the end, he will be mine. He and Harry will become friends and we'll all be one big happy family." A fingertip with all the softness of a dry leaf touched McGonagall's face. Crystal's eyes softened. "And then Harry will realize the true feelings he has for Ron Weasley and finally, they will admit the love that they have for each other."

McGonagall choked. "Love?" she gasped.

Crystal nodded almost serenely. "Its there, they both ignore the signs though. Boys usually do." She laughed indulgently. "I'll straighten them out...I'll fix everything."

"You'll--" McGonagall started and then broke off as something warm and wet splashed her face and her robes. Both women looked down at the hand that protruded from what had been Crystal's chest. The hand was covered in bone plates, blood, and wrapped with vines. The fingers were closed around a thing that looked like a cross between a jellyfish and a misshapen octopus. The hand withdrew and Crystal collapsed to the ground. In the light of the wand, McGonagall saw the young man. He was now almost completely covered in bone plates, with only his hair and glowing red eyes visible. His pants were tattered ruins.

"No!" Squeaked a tiny voice. "It can't end like this!"

"You're useless outside a host, Sue," the young man said and his fingers tightened. The thing beat impotently at his wrist and fingers with tiny tentacles.

"She'll stop you!" It shrieked before squishing with an ugly sound. A clear liquid spurted out either side of his fist and fell to the floor, burning holes in the stone where it landed.

"I..." McGonagall gasped. "What...who?" She trailed off and forced herself to focus. Then she drew herself up and spoke firmly with all the authority that thirty-five years as an educator gave a person. "I demand an explanation."

"You won't be the only one," he said and pointed down.

Reflexively, McGonagall looked down to see Professor Dumbledore beginning to stir and when she looked up, the young man was gone. She muttered a curse and then, thinking fast, raised her voice as she knelt to cradle Dumbledore's head. "Elf!"

Immediately, a strange creature appeared before her. It had big eyes and even bigger ears. It wore a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts Crest like a Toga and stared up at her with quiet determination. "Yes, Professor?"

"This room must be restored, exactly as it was. Exactly, you understand?" Dumbledore groaned. "Quickly!" McGonagall snapped. "Before the headmaster wakes up!"

The house-elf sprang into action, others appearing in response to some silent summons. Like a whirlwind, they moved about the office, restoring furniture books with insane speed and plenty of magic. McGonagall raised her wand and aimed it at Dumbledore. "Forgive me, Albus," she whispered and then raised her voice. "Obliviate!" The wand sparkled and erased any memory of Crystal from Dumbledore's mind. Reversing her grip on the wand, she rapped Dumbledore smartly on the head, and then turned her attention to the paintings of past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts that lined the walls. "And not a word about this to him or anyone else, you understand? Any of you who speaks will find themselves on the staircase leading to Syltherin House. and in a cheap frame to boot."

"Now see here," the painting of Headmaster Crumbles started but froze when McGonagall fixed him with a steely glare. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"Er, nothing."

Behind her, the house-elves had complete their work. "Thank you. Speak of this to no one, not even among yourselves. Especially not to Professor Dumbledore, for his own safety," McGonagall said and they vanished. It was a desperate ploy, the house-elves were loyal to Dumbledore alone. But they held her in respect and no house-elf would do anything to put their master in danger. It would have to do.

Scooping some powder from a small pot, McGonagall threw it on the fire. "Madam Pomfrey, could you come to the Headmaster's office please? Use the fireplace."

A moment later, Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, emerged from the fire. "Yes Minerva?" Then she saw Dumbledore. "Al--Professor Dumbledore! She rushed to his side and knelt beside him. "What happened?"

"We were going to get some tea," McGonagall lied. It went against her instincts as a Gryffindor and head of Gryffindor House to lie, but the truth made absolutely no sense either. "He tripped and hit his head."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I told him he was going to trip over his robe one of these days." She flicked her wand and conjured a restorative potion, which she gave to Dumbledore.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked when he woke.

"You tripped," Madam Pomfrey informed him as she and McGonagall helped him stand. "I told you would one of these days. Come, I'll help you to your rooms."

When they had left, McGonagall adressed the empty room. "You can come out now, they're gone."

He came down the stairs carrying a duffel bag. He wore a different shirt and pants and cheap sneakers. The bone plates and vines were gone and he would not have warranted a second glance on any Muggle street. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Without other things on her mind, McGonagall realized that he was really quite young and very skinny. He had brown hair and his eyes, bloodshot with exhaustion, weren't gray, but rather a very light blue. His skin was pale and sallow and he was quite dirty.

She heard a faint gurgle and a trace of embarrassment crossed his face as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

McGonagall sighed. "My name is Professor McGonagall," she said. "And I have a great many questions..." she looked him up and down. "Which I will ask while you eat." He couldn't quite hide his happiness, she noted and wondered when he had last eaten.

"Come, she said, and escorted him out of the office. She couldn't quite escape the feeling that she had just bitten off far more then she could chew.