Author's Note: It took a little while longer than I expected to get enough of this done and integrate the info dump that I removed from the early drafts of the prior chapter. For this, I apologize. In any case, this work can now be considered complete ... unless someone convinces me I need to add more.

This chapter contains a bit of how I imagine that having a Catholic Priest as a House Ghost at Hogwarts might have effected the magicals opinions of Christianity. A study of actual history of witch burning and the Catholic Church was undertaken in the process of coming up with this. If you wish to debate how I used it, please take it to private messages. I promise I will respond to you, at least once.

Saint Edwards the Confessor Chapel was not exactly placed in the most trafficked area of the castle. There were many reasons why, the chief of which might have been that it was part of a complex that had housed the Scriptorium, where a carefully chosen group of monks, all magical, had originally resided, invited by the founders to assist in the teaching of reading and writing to poor illiterate magicals. The changing nature of pre-Hogwarts education had negated the need for such staff and monks had dwindled to just two, maintaining the chapel and providing religious services to those who needed them. Eventually even those two dedicated monks left Hogwarts and the Fat Friar took over seeing the dwindling Christian religious needs, a good proportion of which the Friar was responsible for creating.

It was probably those monks, and later the Fat Friar, known among his parishioners as Father Clement, who moderated the magical reaction to the typical leadership of a witch hunt. Though to be perfectly honest, though the local parish priest often ended doing the witch burning, the often illiterate priest was almost always not the instigator of it. As Father Clement often said, "We fear the power we can not explain and he who has no knowledge often ends up swept away in the hysteria of fear. I fear for my brother priests who do not know, and those swept away because they did not know how to stop it."

In any case, several members of the House of Slytherin found themselves walking past that old Scriptorium to the small chapel in which Father Clement offered his services as priest and confidant. Draco was one of them, and it was the first time he'd been to the chapel. Religion was not exactly high on a Malfoy's priority list. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't actually sure he was an adherent to either the Fat Frier's Catholic Church, or the Church of England that Runcie expressed. His parents had taken him to some sort of church, several times, but he'd had the impression that it was more for show than anything.

He entered the chapel and kneeled in a back pew, trying to decide which priest to go to. Father Robert was up near the altar rail, where everyone could see, which was a plus if he wanted to be seen as repentant and pious. Over on the side, Blaise had just left a closet with a pair of doors that he figured had to be the confessional, not that he'd ever been. He'd just heard about it from other Slytherins, usually ones with Huffflepuff parents.

As he kneeled there, he heard a chorus of ghosts singing something, almost droning. He thought it was in Latin.

Quantus tremor est futurus,

Quando Judex est venturus,

Cuncta stricte discussurus!

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Blaise approaching, moving to join Draco in the back pew. "I thought your family were members of Reformed Church of Britainia," Blaise whispered.

"I'm not actually sure what we are," Draco whispered back, matching the volume but not really knowing why they were whispering. He was sure Blaise had a good reason, as his fellow Slytherin folded his arms and bowed his head. "I'm not sure I'm going to go to one of them, or which one of them to go."

"Well, technically you should receive certain sacraments before you have your first Sacrament of Reconciliation and Penance, but I don't think Father Clement asks," Blaise said. "He certainly takes no offence to my saying that it has been too long since my last confession. Plus, I know Professor Potter asked if they minded hearing noncommunicates confessions, and they both said they didn't."

"Who should I go to?" Draco whispered.

"Well, it really depends," Blaise said. "I'm Catholic, so I go to Father Clement at least once a month. He's not as good as my squib great uncle Achille as a confessor, but he's okay. Father Clement is private, and he's not too heavy on the penance. I've got to pray the rosary daily for the next week. Father Robert, well, there are pluses an minuses with him. He's only here today and whenever his granddaughter invites him, which is a minus if you want to make it regular. He does confessions out in the open, so everyone can see you're going, if public piety is your thing. Don't worry about anyone overhearing though. There is a special charm by the altar rail and on the confessional. Father Robert's a retired archbishop, so he's not some ordinary priest, but then again neither is Father Clement. One big mark against Father Robert for us though is the fact he's a muggle."

Draco's head whipped around to meet Blaise's eyes. "A muggle," he hissed, an appropriate tone for a Slytherin. "How is that possible? Or allowed?"

"The anti-muggle protections around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade don't work if you floo or portkey into the castle," Blaise shrugged. "And there is no rule against a muggle visiting, or providing services to Hogwarts. The protections and tradition just make it unlikely. I understand that Filch once got a muggle plumber to help him, after our second year."

"Oh," Draco said, bending his head back down, and matching Blaise's prayerful pose.

"So, who are you going to go to?" Blaise asked. "Or is examining your conscience in the back pew enough for you?"

Draco considered what Blaise had said. He'd come to the chapel at first because of a quote that Potter had. "All may, none must, some should." He'd been looking right at Draco at that moment, it seemed. He was on the some should, he was sure. He was not going to back out, and not because he'd be a coward to do so.

"How do I start with Father Clement?" Draco asked.

Pansy Parkinson looked across the common room. It was the first Friday after Nott had been expelled, and her Head of House had finished handing out punishments an hour ago. There were six fellow Slytherins who were currently suffering from what Professor Potter appeared to favor as punishment, standing in corners as naked toddlers with reddened bottoms from a spanking. It appeared that the Boy-Who-Lived's threats and example of Draco hadn't quite been believed. Of course, that wasn't the only punishment that Professor Potter had issued.

There were several students who had extra assignments, assumed to counter some lack of knowledge that had gotten them in trouble. Tracy Davis had a stack of books about something called the Manhattan Project, from the dusty muggle history section of the library to work on hers. Getting in a fight with a Ravenclaw and Granger about muggle power was not a good idea, apparently. Losing was even worse.

Draco was beside her, literally wearing a sack and de-aged again. The sack, which basically a shirt when he'd been full size was apparently his penance from Father Clement. Pansy really didn't know why Draco had gone to confession. The Reformed Church of Britannia didn't have confession. Celtic goddesses didn't tend to ask for it. Pansy and her family were also followers of Britannia. It was actually the most common church in Slytherin, not that that said anything, really, as only twenty percent were in that church. Catholicism came next, at barely eight percent, almost tied with the Anglican Communion. Then there was the Followers of Merlin, who didn't really worship Merlin, but might as well have. Most of the rest were followers of small sects, only big enough for house worship. Other houses had entirely different break downs than Slytherin. (You could tell that the Fat Friar had done a good job in evangelization over the centuries, as almost two thirds of Hufflepuffs were Catholic.)

"I still can't believe you asked Potter to de-age you," Pansy said looking at her boyfriend turned toddler. He looked about four this time, instead of the two he'd been when he was punished before.

"He was going to do it to me, anyway," Draco shrugged. "This way I didn't have to stand in the corner. And I promised to wear this sack cloth shirt until Sunday morning. Malfoys, despite our name, hold up our promises. I think Potter actually was a bit surprised too."

"Of course I was," Professor Harry Potter said, seemingly stepping out from no where. Pansy had thought that he'd left after dealing out the weekly punishments. "Miss Parkinson, you have patrol in twenty-minutes with Ron. Is there anything I can be of assistance with?"

"Not at the moment, sir," Pansy said. "Are we almost caught up with the deferred punishments, Professor?"

"Almost, and I'm happy to say that there have been very few new offenses," Potter said. "I assume you're meeting Ron halfway to start your patrol?" Pansy nodded. "I'll join you, I have something to give him."

Twenty-two hours ago, Theodore Nott had been expelled from Hogwarts. Sixteen hours ago he'd been released on writ from the Minister. Eleven hours ago he'd met the Dark Lord and pledged his loyalty, promising a way into Hogwarts. Now he was now on his way back in, using a passage he'd discovered himself. The passage let out two floors below the Headmaster's Office's entry, exactly halfway between Gryffindor Tower and the Slytherin Common Room. Behind him was the Dark Lord and a score of the most accomplished Death Eaters. Dumbledore was still at the Wizengamont, and they'd secure Hogwarts long before he returned.

Nott reached the end of the tunnel and opened the portrait of Queen Victoria, just as the door to the office across the hall opened. Nott figured this would be his first kill, and pointed his wand at the emerging figure. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, but nothing emerged from his wand.

"It seems that someone didn't realize what a bastard among magic means," the figure said from the darkened alcove. "You haven't cast anything since you left Hogwarts, have you?"

It was only then that Nott realized exactly who had emerged from the office, reading the sign next to the door, which was much better lit than the alcove. "Harry Potter, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Head of Slytherin."

"Mister Riddle, I assume that you are with the traitor Nott?" Potter asked. "You do realize that the Heads of House expelled him, and that he's been charged with treason against the realm?"

Voldemort spoke up from behind him. "We are with him, and you shall die here tonight. Hogwarts shall be ours."

"So, you are with him, and he has led you here," Harry said. "By my hand Theodore Nott was expelled under the old rules, with the concurrence of all the Heads of House, he was forbidden to return under penalty of death. He has done so, did so bringing an armed force with him. And if you actually listened to Professor Binns in your fourth year, you know what happened to the last English Earl who tried to bring a force to restore his son to his place at Hogwarts."

"I must admit to a lack of knowledge as to what happened," Voldemort said. "I admit to sleeping though a large number of History of Magic classes, but what one of us has not?"

"Point, very good point, Mister Riddle," Harry said. "If you were still a student, I might even give Slytherin a point for it. But you are not, and as Head of Slytherin, I must inform you that the boy who was sent through the traitor's gate can not live on return to Hogwarts, and neither can anyone who accompanies him. As he has led you on to the grounds of Hogwarts, you are all bastards of magic, forever removed from the rolls of Hogwarts, and confined to the eternal fire from which there is no return. By name I sentence you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Lester Esmond Knott, Jerome Ulric Crabbe, Gregory Anthony Goyle IV, Seymour Odysseus Boyle, and Theodore Ignatius Nott. For your offenses thou are't dead to magic and the world.

Flames engulfed Nott and those who accompanied him, not giving any of them a chance for another thought as they disappeared from the moral plane, and into the eternal fire.

Albus Dumbledore looked down at the charred bodies in the passage way opposite his newest Head of House's Office. "It is a shame that it had to come to an end this way," he said. "They had so much promise." He'd come down with the Minister the moment he'd received the call about Voldemort having invaded and died inside Hogwarts.

"They got what they deserved," Harry replied.

"And exactly what did they get," Dumbledore asked.

"Yes! These are notable wizards," Fudge said. "Surely they didn't deserve this?"

"Binns was your History Professor? And you have never read Hogwarts, a History?" Harry asked. Once Fudge nodded, he continued. "I suppose not everyone can have a Hermione in their class. I'm afraid that those notables invaded Hogwarts in order to attempt to restore Nott to his place as a Student in Slytherin, among other things, but that was the important reason. You see the founders put a protection around Hogwarts after the Earl of Surrey attempted to restore his magical son to his place after he'd been expelled for ... well that doesn't really matter. Just that if the Head of Houses agree to expel and declare a student as bastard to magic, sending him through the Iron Gate, anyone accompanying him in an attempt to take the castle will be sent to the eternal fire when named by the Head of House that encounters them, having lost their magic the moment they stepped on the grounds. I may not know many notable wizards, but I do have a way to find out any of the names of anyone visiting Hogwarts."

"You believe this?" Fudge asked.

"I did not have Binns as my History of Magic Professor," Dumbledore said. "And I'm afraid that by following me through the floo to Hogwarts you may have invoked a lesser punishment on yourself. Can you cast a luminous?"

"I don't see why I would need to," Fudge blustered, but Dumbledore's gaze caused him to reach down to pull out his wand, which exploded in his hand, knocking him out when he hit a painting behind him.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore remarked, picking up the minister. "I'm afraid Fudge can no longer be Minister for Magic, as he's lost his magic." Then he turned to Harry. "I shall have to call to Wizengamont into session to replace him tomorrow. Can you call your fellow Heads of House together? We must be ready for the press in the morning, and I really think it's time to replace Culbert now. It is simply too dangerous not to."

"Yes Professor," Harry said firmly. "I'll keep a prefect on each end of the passage until the DMLE is done, and be on hand for them."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "And I believe we can safely say that Tom is dead by your hand. Congratulations on fulfilling the prophecy. The Prophet will no doubt want an interview."

"Great, just Great."