My thanks to all the readers of the original version of this piece, which is still uploaded and listed under the 'M' section of the Harry Potter tag. My additional thanks to SyncreticVenture for all of the kind words and edits.

The first letter came without warning.

Harry Potter, seventh year at Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles, was curled against his window, Bible laying open in his lap. A notebook rested at his side, and he scribbled into it, before setting his pencil down with a sigh.

"Nearly done." He said, turning back to the book. "I wish she would assign this much homework, but I can't complain. It could be worse." From the common room below, he could hear laughter. Seven years of living and learning with the same people, and he still felt shy.

"Nearly done." Harry said again. "Just a little more to go."

There was a tap on his window, almost too quiet to hear. Harry ignored it, instead playing with the dog-eared corners of his Bible, the words slowly blurred together.

Another tap.

"What?" Harry snapped, looking up. He closed his eyes, chiding himself for his impatience. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes and looked out the window into the inky blackness.

An owl, yellow-eyed and tawny, blinked up at him, a letter held in its beak.

"What?" Harry asked, cocking his head. "Am I dreaming?" The Headmaster had always warned against strange things like these, saying they were signs from the evil one. The owl, though, blinked up at Harry Potter and hooed, sweet and gentle in the midnight air.

"You don't look too bad." Harry said. He hesitantly moved his hand forward, petting the bird's head and tracing its feathers. The bird ruffled itself up and hooed again, almost losing its grip on the letter in its mouth.

"Careful there!" Harry laughed. He took the letter and set it aside, stroking the bird's feathers and feeling the soft thump of a heartbeat beneath his fingers.

The owl ducked its head and nudged the letter, looking almost impatient.

"Alright, alright." Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes, reciting the verses that Professor McGonagall had taught him in his head. "One verse for patience." He murmured, tearing the envelope at the seam. "Another verse for safety—"

A letter slipped out and fell into his hands. Harry continued to mutter to himself, unfolding it and peering at the scrawl within.

Potter,

Read this while I was in Albania. Thought you might appreciate it.

M

Harry frowned and flipped the letter over, where a newspaper clipping had been taped haphazardly to the side. It showed a girl, cloth wrapped around her head, smiling out towards the camera, with the caption, "Malala: Bravest of them All".

"What?" Harry repeated, squinting at the text. The printed language wasn't one he recognized, but above it was a translation written, blessedly, in English.

Harry read the article slowly, frown growing only deeper. "What kind of thing is this?" He asked the owl. The creature had moved and now sat, pecking at the windowsill. It lifted its head and hooed, but otherwise did not reply.

Harry chuckled softly and set the letter aside, the image of the girl still smiling up at him. His brow furrowed as he petted the bird, gazing out the window.

"Strange." He said. "I've never heard of anyone being shot for wanting to learn before. I thought that there hasn't been anything like that for years!" Harry hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Honestly, I thought only people who were Christians got hurt like that."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, ignoring as the owl pecked at his knee. "Go home." He told it, peering through his fingers. The owl hooed and shuffled further into the room, landing on Harry's desk instead.

"You're a terrible listener, aren't you?" Harry asked, affection leaking into his voice. The owl hopped across the wood, knocking over the little statue Harry kept of the Madonna.

"Hey now." Harry stood, setting his Bible next to the letter. "Careful." The owl hooed and tripped over its feet, throwing itself down and sounding tremendously upset.

"Bird." Harry said, lifting the creature back to its feet. "Stay put a minute, catch your balance." He hesitated a moment before fishing out some paper and reaching for a pen. "I want to write something to our friend."

The owl hooed happily and settled in next to him, watching with wide eyes as Harry started to scratch at the piece of paper.

M,

I'd never read anything like that before. What happened to her? Is she alright?

Harry

Harry set down his pen and scratched the owl's head, gently nudging the scrap of paper towards its beak.

"Hold on." He said, snatching it back. "One more thing."

'P.S.,' He added. 'Is this your owl? Does it have a name?'

"There." He said, folding it with a smile. "All set."

The owl happily puttered over from its spot and picked up the paper in its beak. Then, with a hop and a flutter, it was in the air, disappearing out the open window before Harry could say a thing.

"Goodbye!" He shouted, running to the window. "Come back soon!" The little tawny speck disappeared into the darkness, winking out of sight as it flew into the stars.

Harry watched the owl go, turning away from the window with a smile. He picked up his Bible and the letter and moved them to his desk, tucking the letter into the back pages. 'I need to get some sleep.' He thought, chuckling lightly. 'Cognizant owls. God, You're sending me some weird dreams.'

"So glad they gave us separate bedrooms, this year." He yawned, settling into bed. "Ron would have thrown a fit. Talking to invisible owls." Harry tucked his feet beneath the blankets and closed his eyes, smile still on his face.

Quietly, he began to pray, the wind whistling through his window and carrying his words away.

XXX

Class the next day carried on as usual, professors droning at a steady pace. Harry settled in next to Ron as students flowed into McGonagall's lecture hall, where the psalm of the day was written up on the black board.

"Did you hear?" Ron asked, the moment Harry sat down. "Ginny's going to dye her hair purple with some stuff she got from Hogsmeade. You've got to help me talk her out of it."

"Why?" Harry asked, opening up his notebook.

"Because it's sinful!" Ron hissed, grabbing Harry's robe. "She'll get in trouble, and then we'll never hear the end of it from mom."

"Sounds like you've got some work to do, then." Harry teased. "Why's it such a bad thing, anyway? She'd look good with purple hair."

"She looks good now." Ron grumbled. "You know what they say. Don't change your looks, love how God made you."

"That's true." Harry shrugged, pulling his Bible out of his bag, as well. "I don't know, though. I think she should do what she wants."

"Yeah, and then she'll be the one to get in trouble for it, but I'll get yelled at for it, anyway." Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, mate. I don't know what to do."

"A penance for the eye roll should suffice, Mr. Weasley." Professor McGonagall answered, strolling past their seats as she walked into the room.

"Yes, professor." Ron muttered, frowning down at his books.

"Good." McGonagall said. She turned to face the class, smile wrinkles disappearing from around her eyes. "Everyone get out your notebooks are write down the psalm. Five times, each of you. I want it burnt into your memory."

A quiet chorus of "Yes, ma'am" echoed through the room, followed by a shuffling of papers and bags. Harry pulled out his Bible and flipped it open to the proper page, the words on the board too small to see. The letter, still tucked into the back, fluttered to the floor and lay there, unnoticed.

Professor McGonagall strolled up and down the aisles, rapping on desks to garner students' attention. "What's this, Potter?" She asked, bending over and examining the paper.

"What's what, Professor?" Harry said, looking up from his notebook. "I—Oh, that!" An uncontrollable smile broke out over his face, while McGonagall's own folded itself into a frown.

"How did you get this, Mr. Potter?" She asked, squinting at the print.

"An owl brought it to me." Harry shrugged. A few of his classmates laughed, and he flushed with amusement.

"This is not a joking matter." McGonagall said, her tone demanding his attention. "I will be confiscating this for now. Return to your psalm."

"Yes, professor." Harry said, ducking his head once again.

The boys watched as she strode away. "Why an owl, mate?" Ron asked, as McGonagall settled at the front of the room, peering at the letter once more.

"It's the truth!" Harry insisted, keeping his head low. "I thought it was a dream, but it was true. That's incredible!"

"You're mad, mate." Ron muttered, frowning as his pencil snapped beneath him. "Bloody hell."

"Another penance, Weasley." McGonagall called, still standing in the front. "Mr. Potter will join you, once you've finished."

Both boys groaned and focused back on their notebooks, Harry just barely hiding his grin.

XXX

He waited by the window again that night, fingers thumping anxiously at his Bible as he watched the sky. His fingers traced over the leather, fiddling with the ribbon bookmarks in a way he hadn't since he had first arrived.

"Come on." He whispered, staring into the night sky. "Just show up already."

Nothing appeared.

Harry sighed and turned away from the window, flipping open his Bible to a random page. The professors always encouraged free readings, but had forbidden certain parts for anyone who was not a seventh year. Harry's fingers skimmed over the Song of Solomon, his heartbeat racing as he considered the page.

"No." He said, scolding himself firmly. "Not yet. Wait a little bit longer." Instead, he turned back to Genesis, reading the familiar words and reveling in the sense of comfort they brought.

A tap echoed on his window, followed quickly by another. Harry nearly dropped the book and turned with a smile, spotting the flapping brown mass just outside.

"You came back!" He said happily as the owl tumbled inside. "And you're not a dream! Do you know how weird this is?"

The owl hooed sympathetically at him, flapping its wings before settling on his bed. Harry followed just behind, gently easing the letter out of the owl's mouth and ripping through the envelope.

"Thank you." He whispered, patting the owl on the head. The little creature fluffed itself up with pride and settled in the crook of his elbow, yellow eyes following the words on the paper.

Potter,

She's doing a lot better, nowadays. Somebody got her out of the country and took her to England so that she could be treated. She's alive, actually, and still speaking in favor of education for women in her country. Pretty brilliant, actually.

Got another article for you. Little different than the last one. Enjoy.

M

P.S. The owl's name is Darwin. Watch your fingers, he bites.

"No, you don't." Harry said, scratching the owl beneath his chin. Darwin hooed again and snuggled close to Harry's side, acting more like a cat than Harry thought a proper owl should.

"Go on, let me read." He scolded. Harry fished the new article out of the envelope and read it carefully, tracing the printed sentences with a shaking finger.

"Dinosaurs." He whispered, mouth dropping open. "No. No! Dumbledore said these weren't real!"

The article disagreed, waxing long about the newest discovery that had been made in a country called Argentina. It showed a picture of an unusually attractive young man being dwarfed by the bone he was uncovering, hands tracing carefully over the dirt.

"It can't be." Harry said, setting the piece aside. "That's impossible."

Darwin hooed from Harry's elbow, drawing his attention away. Harry scratched the owl absentmindedly, a gentle smile coming over his face.

"I see who you are." He said, ducking his head with a sigh. "Dinosaurs and Darwin. Oh, my friend, what a shame." Carefully, Harry stood, wincing as Darwin dug his talons into his arm. He settled into his desk chair and pulled out a piece of notebook paper, careful to write neatly as he composed his reply.

M,

I see what you're doing, Mr. Non-believer. That's fine; you can believe whatever you want. I know, though, that dinosaurs weren't real, and all of those skeletons are fakes. They can't be real! God didn't have the time or the place to put them on Earth. He reserved that for humans, instead.

I do like that you're sending me articles, though. That one about Malala was wonderful, and I loved reading it. It got confiscated, though, so I'll have to do without.

How did you train Darwin to come to Hogwarts, though? That's pretty impressive. I've never met a more clever bird. (He doesn't bite me. I really like him.)

Write soon,

Harry

He finished the letter with a flourish, smiling as he set down his pen. Darwin clicked his beak and waddled out of Harry's elbow, nudging Harry's fingers as he folded the letter into fourths.

"Be patient." Harry teased, tapping the bird on the beak. "That's one penance for you."

Great yellow eyes blinked back at him dully, and Harry laughed. He passed the letter to the owl, who took it in his beak and snapped his wings. A moment later, and he was gone, disappearing out the window.

"Bye!" Harry called, waving a hand after him. He chuckled and turned back to his bed, picking up his Bible and skimming through it once more. The news article fluttered in the wind, nestling itself in one of the wrinkles in his sheets.

Harry stared at it, considering it carefully. He picked it up again and peered at it, reading over and over again about the size, the shape, and the weight of the bones.

"They can't be real." He scoffed, eyes drawn back again and again to the picture. "They just can't."

Harry curled up in his bed and closed his eyes, softly whispering his prayers and dreaming of creatures he couldn't possibly fathom.

XXX

He woke the next morning to the sound of tapping on his window. Harry jolted upright and nearly fell out of bed, wiping the drool from his face.

"You're back soon." He said, opening the window. A white whirl of wings entered, not brown, and settled on his desk.

Harry blinked once, then again. He rubbed his hand against his jaw and winced at the stubble. "You're not Darwin." He said slowly. The snowy owl clicked its beak in response, the letter it carried dropping onto Harry's desk.

"And you're rude." Harry chuckled, walking over to get it. "Goodness, M sure can pick 'em." The owl responded with a titter, hoping from foot to foot. Harry fought an eye roll and ripped into the envelope, a thin piece of paper ready and waiting.

Prove it.

That was all it said.

Harry frowned at the paper, flipping it over to look for more words. There weren't any.

"Thanks, I guess." Harry said, folding the paper and laying it back down on the desk. "I'll try, if I can figure out what you're asking for." The bird squawked in response.

"Definitely rude." Harry snorted. Something like disappointment settled in his chest, watching the bird prance about on his desk. He picked up the envelope and looked at it, shaking it out to see if any other scraps of paper fell out.

Something did. It looked like it had been scrawled on in a hurry, and it was absolutely tiny.

The dinosaurs, I mean. The owl's yours, I need Darwin for other things. Be nice.

"Well." Harry said, taken aback. He looked again at the owl, still sitting primly on his desk. "Thanks." The bird chittered and hopped about the room before settling contently into Harry's pillow, sadly abandoned.

"I'm going to have to name you." Harry said absently, watching it as it preened. "And hide you. God, You're just throwing a bunch of surprises at me, aren't you?" The owl squawked again, and Harry didn't bother to repress his smile.

"Bloody nuisance, you're going to be." He said, the word slipping past his lips without a thought. His eyes went wide, and he flushed, quietly reciting a prayer for forgiveness.

The bird watched him with dark brown eyes, unblinking.

"Well, don't just sit there." Harry said, looking up once more. "Might as well get ready for the day, yeah?" The owl clicked in response, and Harry chuckled, bouncing about his room with more spring in his step than usual.

"Prove it." He said, pulling a clean shirt out of his dresser. "Fine. I will."

XXX

"Professor!" Harry fought his way to the front of the room, the rest of his class filing out into the hallway.

"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall turned. "What is it?"

"I had a question." Harry said, coming to her side. "I—I got into a debate with a friend of mine, and I need a little help proving him wrong on something."

"Oh?" McGonagall almost smiled, turning back to the chalkboard and erasing her work. "What are the two of you debating?"

"Well," Harry hesitated, looking at his shoes. "Dinosaurs."

McGonagall whipped her head around sharply, eyes narrowing.

"He thinks they're real!" Harry said quickly. "But I don't. He wants me to prove it to him, somehow."

"God didn't have a place for dinosaurs." McGonagall said automatically.

"Yeah, I told him that." Harry said. "But he still wants to know more."

"A strange friend of yours, Mr. Potter." McGonagall mused, wiping chalk dust from her hands. "You can inform him, if you like, that such a display of doubt is frowned upon."

"I will, absolutely." Harry nodded enthusiastically. "But what else can I tell him?"

"Simply that." McGonagall said, walking away.

Harry stopped, watching her gather her things. He gaped in silence for a moment, trying to connect his mouth to his brain. "That's it?" He asked, taking a step after her.

"Yes, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said. "Though I would advise that if your friend is having these kind of doubts that he see the Headmaster as soon as possible."

"Thanks." Harry said faintly, watching as she moved towards the door. "I'll be sure to let him know."

"You're quite welcome." McGonagall said. "Now, come along. No need to loiter in an empty room."

"Right." Harry walked slowly into the hallway, watching as his professor disappeared into the flowing mob.

"Well," he said, turning and heading towards his common room. "That was—unhelpful, to say the least."

XXX

Harry sat at his desk, night once again flowing in through the windows. No owl awaited him tonight, and a piece of paper sat on his desk, blank and agitating.

"What do you think?" He asked the white owl, who blinked at him from his bedpost. "Do you think dinosaurs were real?"

The creature twittered at him, only adding to his frustration. Harry sat down hard at his desk and fiddled with his pen, tapping it against his lip.

M,

This has been one of my more difficult days. I asked one of my professors what kind of evidence I could give you that dinosaurs didn't exist, and she didn't provide me much. All she said was that if you doubted that much, you should go speak to the headmaster. Obviously, you can't do that. So, I don't know what to say. Sorry to disappoint you, I guess.

Well, I guess I'm not disappointing you.

You're making my life difficult, M.

However, I'm still glad you're writing.

How did you find me, anyway? Have we met before? Do you go to Hogwarts?

Thank you for the owl, by the way. I have yet to name it—I'm not even sure how to gender it—but it means a lot. I'm still interested in how you trained these birds to send letters. It's incredible!

Write again soon. Have a good night.

Harry

He set down his pen and sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Come here, you." The owl glided down from its post above his bed, approaching him with surprising gentleness. Harry stroked its feathers and slid the letter towards it, watching as it snapped it up in its silver beak.

"I hope we get along." He said, not sure if he was speaking to the owl or to the writer. "You don't seem too bad."

The owl hooed through a beakful of paper, fluttering its wings and heading towards the window. Harry propped it open and watched as the owl soared off into the night, a strange sense of familiarity settling in his chest.

XXX

Halfway across the world, buried in the Peruvian Mountains, Draco Malfoy was flanked by the setting sun, staring into the slowly darkening eastern sky.

"Come on, Potter." He muttered, kicking at the ground. "Pick up the bloody pace."

As if summoned by magic, he heard a screech. Above him, a tiny white dot grew larger and larger, until an owl tumbled out of the sky and landed gracefully on his shoulder.

"There you are." Draco said. "Lazy thing."

The owl huffed and ruffled its feathers, nearly doubling in size on the man's shoulder. It dropped the letter into his waiting hand and eyed him suspiciously.

"Yeah, yeah." Draco said, sighing dramatically. "There's mice in the tent, now get."

The bird twittered happily and flew from his shoulder, disappearing almost at once.

Draco rolled his eyes and unfolded the letter, reading it silently against the light of the setting sun. An unwilling smile crossed his features, and something like pride fluttered in his stomach.

"What did I tell you, stupid boy?" He said, folding the letter once more. "You need evidence, and those people aren't going to give you anyway."

With a spring in his step, he turned back towards the array of tents spattered across the green mountainside. His own, kept a little further away from the rest, sat empty, save for a hungry owl and a few now-dead mice.

He went back and picked up a pen from the ground, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling onto it.

Potter,

I can't say I'm surprised with your results, although I must say; it took guts to actually ask a professor. I've met the ones they've got at Hogwarts, and I have no desire to do that again. With that, yes, you've met me, and yes, I once attended the same narrow-minded school that you do now. My sincerest apologies for your predicament.

You called me a non-believer in your last letter. Just because I name an owl Darwin and believe in dinosaurs doesn't mean I don't believe in a God. In fact, I believe in the same God that you do, and that all the professors and students at Hogwarts say that they believe in. Strange, isn't it? I think so, too.

I'll gladly keep making your life difficult. Someone needs to challenge your way of thinking now and then.

Now, your owl is female. Look up how to distinguish between the sexes; it may do you some good. Name her whatever you please, although for my sake, don't name her 'Angel'. How cliché could you get?

Don't hurt yourself with thinking too hard,

M

Draco smirked and stuffed the letter into an envelope, looking around his tent for the latest newspaper scrap. After a moment, he stopped, hesitating as something else caught his eye.

"I wonder," he said, turning his gaze. The old book looked up at him, its worn cover reminiscent of a time long, long past.

Draco nearly smiled as he took the book in hand, tossing it back and forth. "It wouldn't hurt." He shrugged, reaching for another piece of paper. The words of the book flowed steadily from pen to page, and after a good while, an entire chapter lay out before him.

"There." He said, capping his pen. "Something a little different for you."

With a whistle Draco summoned the owl from her happy little feast. "Whenever you're ready." He said drolly, setting the letter on the ground. The owl chirped and returned to her meal, must to Draco's disgust.

He walked out of the tent and back into the fresh air, staring into the sky with a sense of content.

'What exactly do you intend to accomplish?' His father had asked, upon discovering the first letter he intended to send.

'I want to see if I can shake things up.' He had replied, setting his pen aside. 'If anyone can throw them for a loop, it's the Potter boy. He's their little angel.'

'Yes, he is.' Lucius Malfoy had sighed. 'Just be careful, son.'

"I'll try." Draco said aloud, breaking from his thoughts. "But it's so much fun to push the boundaries."

The snowy owl appeared from the tent, her beak still red with the remnants of her dinner. The letter was secured delicately in her mouth, just like he had trained her.

"Go on." Draco said, ushering her into the sky. "Head back home. Give our boy something to think about."

Something in his stomach stirred as the owl departed. She disappeared into the evening sky, the words 'our boy' echoing in the distance behind her.

Draco watched her go, and then turned away, headed back to his tent for the night.

XXX

"What do you want?" Harry moaned, pulling the covers over his head. The tapping at his window didn't cease, instead only increasing in tempo.

"Go away." Harry muttered, taking a face full of pillow. A moment later, and he coughed, rising out of bed with quiet curses.

"Bloody hell." He yawned, mentally chalking up a penance. "What is it?" He opened the window, and in flew the owl, letter hanging out of her mouth.

"Oh, you." Harry said, blinking into the dim light. "You're back soon."

The owl hooed and settled on the bedframe, dropping the letter on to the pillow.

"At least you have some sense." Harry muttered, falling back into bed. Clumsy fingers fumbled at the envelope, slipping out the letter at the price of a paper cut. Harry squinted up at the scrawled letter, eyes slowly widening as he read.

"What's this?" He asked, sitting up in bed. His own laughter took him by surprise as he read his companion's dismissive goodbye.

"Here's to you, mate." He said, flipping over the paper. His eyes grew soft at the long length of words.

"Once there were four children," he read, as the owl settled in to its—her post. "Whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy."

The story went on for another five pages, and Harry was enraptured. The liquid scrawl transported him, and when he finished, sleep was long gone.

"You bastard." Harry chuckled, before chalking up another mental penance. "You're going to wreck my life, aren't you?"

Somewhere, across the ocean and deep in the mountains, Draco Malfoy grinned in his sleep.

XXX

The next few weeks were highlighted by letters, and for either man, little else was as exciting.

'I've named her Hedwig.' Harry said, passing a letter out the window in the middle of the day. 'It's a little less obvious than some of the other things I thought of.'

'I'm glad you went easy on her.' Draco replied. 'God knows the poor thing's stressed out enough.'

'I found something new today.' Draco said, another day. 'I can't tell you about it, but I can tell you that it's incredible.'

'Rude.' Harry wrote. 'Teasing is rude. For all I know, you could be lying to me.'

'I could easily lie to you, Potter.' Draco wrote back. 'You don't have a clue who I am.'

'I have a vague idea.' Harry said, scribbling in his notebook between classes.

'Really?' The reply came fast, this time with Darwin instead of Hedwig. 'Sorry for kidnapping your owl. She seemed worn out.'

'I think she is.' Harry wrote, petting the old, familiar owl beneath the chin. 'When she's with me, she's treated well, but when I send her to you, I have no idea what happens. And yes, I have an idea about who you are. But just to make sure: are you a girl?'

The sound of Draco's laughter echoed throughout the Peruvian mountainside. 'Absolutely not.' He wrote back, sending Hedwig along. 'Though I should thank you for the laugh.'

'You have girly handwriting.' Harry defended himself. 'Fine. I don't have a good idea'.

'Keep trying.' Draco said. 'I don't think you'll ever get it, but it's amusing to watch you try.'

Other times, their conversations dabbled into more serious topics. Harry would collapse in his room after a day of reciting psalms and theoretical discussion and find a letter from the mysterious M, ranting about the state of the world or the wrongs he was righting.

'It's just ridiculous.' Draco wrote at one point. 'I work with these people on a daily basis, and they still can't bring themselves to think about the bigger picture. It doesn't matter that others are suffering, no. Those suffering people don't subscribe to these people's religious beliefs; thereby, they don't deserve any help.'

'You don't believe that?' Harry asked, blinking blearily into the distance.

'Potter.' Draco said. 'I believed that once, a fairly long time ago. Then, something happened to me that changed my perspective. Once you're down and out, you realize how much it sucks when someone doesn't include you in their religious 'following'.'

'I don't understand.' Harry wrote. 'I've always been taught that my religion—our religion, actually, sorry—made us different. My professors have had us read all these martyrdom stories about Christians dying in Africa and Asia because of what they believe. They say that we need to convert whoever we can, no matter if we'll die or not. If we don't, those people who aren't converted will die and never meet God.'

Draco didn't respond for a while after that letter, as he left Peru and made his way up into Central America. 'Technically, they aren't wrong.' Harry read, when the letter finally came. 'But at the same time, it isn't our place to shove what we believe down other peoples' throats. Beyond that, it's our job to help people, whether they choose to believe what we believe or not.'

'Think about it this way:' Draco added. 'If someone wearing a hijab came to you with a cut, would you give her a band aid?'

'Of course.' Harry wrote back.

'That's it.' Draco said. 'A lot of people would say no.'

'But that's ridiculous.' Harry replied. 'It's just a band aid. It doesn't matter whether or not a person believes in God; if they're bleeding, they need help.'

'I knew you could see sense.' Draco wrote, his hidden smile sewn into the letter. 'Maybe you're not too far gone, Potter.'

'I'd like to think I'm not gone at all.' Harry wrote. 'I just—don't always agree with what I'm taught.'

'That's how I was.' Draco said. 'Just be careful. They start to pick up on that, after a while.'

All the while, pieces of the story continued to come. Harry stayed up late into the night, following Lucy through the Wardrobe and into the land of Narnia. He threw the pages from him when M spoke of the fawn, Tumnus, and of Jadis the White Queen. The words drew him back, though, over and over again, and he found himself enraptured.

'I've never read anything like it' He wrote, tracing the pages with affectionate care. 'We've always been told that magic was evil, or something to be afraid of.'

'It isn't, trust me.' Draco said. 'There's magic in everything, if you look hard enough .There's a magic in words. They can make you feel like you're with someone, even when they're a thousand miles away, or not real at all.'

Harry felt a warmth curl in his stomach at that, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

Ron and Hermione rarely saw him anymore, these days, though they walked the halls together with their heads bent close and smiles on their faces. McGonagall eyed him with care, watching him scribble into his notebook while he pretended to be copying the psalms. Even Dumbledore passed through, patting him on the shoulder and advising him to 'stay on the path'.

Harry knew what he meant, knew that he shouldn't be straying. The things M said, though, rang so true—he felt like there was an entire world out there that he had never seen. He craved it in a way he'd never craved before.

He craved M, too, though he'd never admit it. Something warm ran through his heart whenever Hedwig or Darwin sat in his window, a crisp brown letter ready and waiting for him to read.

'I've never known anyone like you.' He wrote, sending Hedwig away with a pat and a piece of bread, left over from dinner.

'Technically, you don't know me.' Draco replied, sounding almost sad. 'But the feeling's mutual, Potter, you bastard.'

"This wasn't supposed to happen." Draco whispered, sending Hedwig back on her way. "Damn it all."

"Bloody hell." Harry whispered, cradling the letter close and marking down another penance he wouldn't do. "What's happening to me?"

XXX

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said. Harry looked up from his meal, the noise of the Great Hall flowing on around him. "I'd like you to come to my office later today." Dumbledore said, smiling down.

"Alright, Headmaster." Harry said, furrowing his brow. "When?"

"Finish your classes, and then come on by." Dumbledore said. "It's nothing serious, my boy, no need to look so concerned."

"I didn't know that I did, sir." Harry replied, forcing a laugh. "Thank you for telling me. I'll see you later, then, I guess?"

Dumbledore chuckled and adjusted his rosary, giving Harry's shoulder one last pat. "You will. 'Til then, Harry."

"Headmaster." Harry nodded, returning to his meal.

Ron watched the headmaster walk away over Harry's shoulder, confusion written across his face. "What was that about?" He asked, reaching for another leg of chicken.

"No idea." Harry said through a mouthful of food. "Guess I'll find out later."

"Yeah, I bet you will." Ron muttered. He took a bite of chicken and chuckled. "If you get expelled, can I have your statue of the Madonna? That thing's weird, but I like it."

"All yours." Harry snorted. He glanced towards the door and saw Dumbledore still standing there, deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall. Harry frowned, but returned to his meal, wondering idly if Hedwig had returned.

XXX

The door to Dumbledore's office was locked when Harry tried to open it. The man hesitated, pulling at the handle once more and listening for any movement inside.

"That's strange." He murmured, glancing down the hall. Students meandered past, a few of them sparing him the odd look.

Harry leaned against the wall, looking up at the ceiling and tracing the support beams with his eyes. The latest letter from M burnt a hole in his pocket, itching to be read. He'd returned to his room to find Hedwig, snowy and annoyed, waiting for him and chittering impatiently.

The last letter from M had left him at a rough point, both in the conversation and in the story that M was sending him. Harry twitched with anticipation as he remembered the Beavers, Susan, Peter, and Lucy, running away from the pack of wolves that were gradually coming closer and closer.

M had seemed somewhat distressed, talking about his job and the places it was taking him. While he hadn't told Harry where he was, at the moment, he had mentioned that it was unbearably hot.

'I'd like to be able to travel like you do.' Harry had written wistfully in the dead of night. M hadn't said a thing about it, but the next letter had included a picture of ruins on a mountainside somewhere, with the caption, 'One day, you'll see that these aren't fake.'

He'd dreamt of flying, that night, and a shadowed man riding at his side as they travelled across the world.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's voice snapped him out of his revelry. Harry shook himself and stood upright, meeting the headmaster's eye with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, headmaster." He said, ducking his head. "I was lost in thought."

"So I gathered." Dumbledore said, his smile kind nonetheless. "Come inside. We've many things to discuss."

The headmaster's office was startlingly bare, save for the two tall back chairs placed opposite one another, separated by an imposing desk. The cross hanging on the back wall was startling against the plain walls.

"Have a seat." Dumbledore said, moving behind the desk. Harry did so, his eyes fixed on the back wall.

Dumbledore glanced behind him and chuckled softly. "It takes some getting used to, I'll admit." He said. "But it's reassuring, nowadays. Now," He said, settling in his seat. "Let's talk."

"Have I done something wrong, sir?" Harry asked, dragging his gaze back to the headmaster.

"Not at all, Harry." Dumbledore said. "Professor McGonagall merely brought something to my attention that I thought we should discuss. She said that she found a letter of sorts, about a month ago, signed with the letter 'M'. Now, the mail coming in to Hogwarts goes through my office, and I had never seen such a letter. I was wondering, Harry, how you came to possess such a thing?"

"Oh, that?" Harry asked, shifting nervously in his seat. "I didn't realize that she'd kept that."

"Professor McGonagall is tremendously dedicated the well-being of her students." Dumbledore said serenely. "Along with the delivery of this letter, she mentioned that you had a friend who was wondering about the existence of dinosaurs. She said that you took well to her advice on the matter."

"I did." Harry nodded slowly. "Don't worry about the letter, Professor. I wrote that myself."

"Did you?" Dumbledore asked. "And how did you come about the article from the newspaper?"

Harry flushed immediately and looked down at the desk. "I—" He started, then let the sentence go. "I'm sorry."

Dumbledore smiled sadly and patted the boy on the hand. "Now, my boy," he said kindly. "It's natural for us to want to protect our friends. I will not press you further, but you should know better than to lie. You'll have to perform a penance to amend for it."

"Yes, sir." Harry said softly. Dumbledore sighed and raised his eyes upward.

"Have you received any other communications from this 'M', Harry?" He asked.

Harry hesitated, and Dumbledore's eyes slid slowly back to him. "No, sir." Harry said. "I think it was just someone trying to be funny."

"I would be inclined to think the same." Dumbledore said. "And, I suppose the friend who was asking about dinosaurs has been quelled?"

"Yes, sir." Harry said, his heart clenching with guilt.

"Good." Dumbledore nodded, a knowing glimmering shining in his eyes. "I believe you, Harry. You're a good lad, and you've grown so much these past years. You're much changed from the boy I took from Privet Drive."

"I should hope so, sir." Harry said, eyes still downcast. "Though I try to maintain the innocence I had then."

"Don't we all?" Dumbledore chuckled. "Come, pray with me, Harry, and then you can be on your way."

"Thank you, headmaster." Harry said. He joined hands with the headmaster and listened absently as Dumbledore spoke, the too-familiar Lord's Prayer falling from his lips.

"Be on your way, Harry." Dumbledore said, dropping Harry's hands. "Keep yourself pure in the eyes of our God."

"I will, sir." Harry said. "At least, I'll try."

"I expect nothing less." Dumbledore said, watching him go. "Good day."

"Good day, sir." Harry said, shutting the door behind him. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wood for a moment, heart pounding in his chest. The letter burned in his pocket, searing a hole through the cloth and into his skin.

"This has to stop." Harry murmured. He pushed himself upright and started to walk, guilt and something—something else stirring at his heart.

Hedwig hooed at him from her post as he walked back into his room. "Quiet!" Harry hissed, shutting the door quickly behind him. With a sigh, he threw the letter from his pocket and flopped down on to his bed, ignoring Hedwig's concerned ruffling.

He was up a moment later, pacing across the room.

"This has got to stop." He repeated, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, I don't want it to stop, but it's got to! I can't just lie to my professors and the headmaster." Harry glanced at the statue of the Madonna on his desk and turned his eyes away in shame.

"What's become of me?" He asked, looking at Hedwig. "Nothing like this has happened before. It was always so easy, before." He let out a dry laugh. "I mean, they did get me out of that home. I owe them, in a way."

"And I believe in God." Harry continued, moving to the window. "Really, I do."

"But there are all these things going on that I had no idea about." He moved away, pacing back towards the door. "All across the world, people are out there, doing things! You don't have to be kept away, nose pushed down to a Bible to understand and believe."

"M is like that." He said wistfully, turning his gaze back. "He's out there doing God knows what, but he believes. He's met people who don't and people who do, and he still thinks they're good people. It's like the band aid thing: if someone's hurt, it doesn't matter what they believe."

"I believe that." Harry said, more firmly. "I believe in God, but I also believe that if someone else doesn't, that doesn't make them a bad person." Hedwig hooed her approval, fluttering her feathers. Harry chuckled.

"I could believe in dinosaurs, if I had enough proof." He said, smiling. "There's so much else out there, outside of what we're being taught here. I wonder why no one's ever brought it up." A crease appeared between his brow.

"Why hasn't it come up?" Harry asked, plopping down on the bed once more. "I mean, when I asked, McGonagall reported me—as her reasons—"

A knock on his door startled Harry into silence. He rushed to the other side of the room, waving his arms frantically at Hedwig. She fluttered into flight and disappeared out the window.

Harry threw open the door and saw Hermione, looking at him with an expression of concern.

"Hi." She said, raising a brow. "Everything alright?"

"Of course." Harry said, laughing. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Yes, because that's convincing." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron said he could hear you talking to yourself two doors down."

"Have to admit, that's kind of impressive." Harry said. "What were you doing in Ron's room?"

"Studying." Hermione said, her stare daring Harry to question her. "He's rubbish at Biblical Interpretation, you know this."

"True." Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Hermione watched him with care, a tentative smile coming over her features.

"You're welcome to join us, if you'd like." She said gently. "There's no need to keep yourself locked up in here."

"I know." Harry admitted. "And I know I've been avoiding you guys lately. I'm sorry about that."

"All's forgiven." Hermione said with a shrug. "Now come on. Come over and help me keep my patience."

"Give me just a minute." Harry said, disappearing behind the door again. "I've got to finish something up."

"Alright." Hermione said. "See you soon!"

"Yep!" Harry shut the door, smile disappearing only slightly. It turned sour as he glanced at his desk, unopened letter still sitting there, waiting for him.

Slowly, he moved over to it, holding it with careful hands and opening it.

Harry,

I'm on the move again, but I figured you'd rather get something than have me disappear for a few weeks again. The next part of the story's included, too, don't fuss.

You asked about my time at Hogwarts. I'm reluctant to tell you about it, honestly. I wasn't the most admirable student—not according to the professors, honestly. I was there the same time you were—are, actually. I made it up until my third year until they had enough of me.

Don't let that taint your opinion of me. Not that it matters. Whatever.

Enjoy the story. I threw in something else, too. Thought you might like it. Parvati, one of the people I'm traveling with, took it where we were last.

M

Harry fought against the spread of warmth in his chest and lost, tracing over the crisp edges of the letter fondly. "Expelled, were you?" He asked. "Can't say I'm surprised." With a snort, he set the letter down, taking the story and the picture out of the envelope as well.

The picture showed a young woman with a long braid and a painted spot in the middle of her forehead in a small, white room with another woman.

"Malala." Harry said, smiling widely. "That's incredible! Must have been while she was still in England." He grinned at the thought, filling with warmth as the girls' joyful eyes stared up at him.

"But what were you thinking?" He wondered. The man on the other end of the camera remained a mystery, always shoved to one side like he wasn't important.

Harry sighed and sat down at his desk, running his hand through his hair once more. He reached for a piece of paper, hesitated, then reached for it anyway.

The picture caught his eye once more, and he smiled again, though this time it held more sadness than joy. "I'm sorry." He said, flipping the picture over. A physical pain made its way into his stomach, but he fought it back, whispering prayers to the wind.

Pen in hand, he began to write.

M,

I was called into the headmaster's office today. McGonagall turned in the letter I dropped and told Dumbledore about the time I asked about the dinosaurs. I think they know something's going on, but I lied and didn't tell them what.

I can't do this anymore. I am so, so sorry. It's nothing you've done—well, that's not quite true. You've changed my life around, and I don't think that I can balance the things you've told me with the things I've learned here. I'm feeling things that I shouldn't feel, and I'm acting in ways that are just strange.

I'm sorry. This will be my last letter.

Please be safe in all your adventures. Thank you so much for everything you've done.

I'm sorry.

H

Harry folded the paper roughly, hissing as the paper cut his finger. With a whistled, Hedwig reappeared, looking thoroughly flustered and rather put out.

"Don't be like that." Harry said, moving over to pat her head. He passed her the letter, and she took it with a gentle nip.

"Listen to me." Harry told her, rubbing beneath her chin. "You're going to stay with M for a while, alright? I can't have you here."

Hedwig blinked at him, her big eyes giving nothing away.

"Go on now." Harry told her. Back out the window she went, disappearing amongst the stars into the night.

Harry watched her go, something sick spiraling in his chest and squeezing his heart. "Forgive me." He said, though he wasn't sure to whom he was speaking. "Please, forgive me."

XXX

The depths of the night kept Draco from sleep. He stared up into the endless, starry sky, watching eagerly for a pair of beating white wings. Behind him, a city of tents lay out, some still lit from within by flashlights.

Israel was sweet, dangerous, and beautiful. He didn't mind visiting, though Draco's thoughts found themselves far more often in England.

A hoo, a swish of air, and Hedwig appeared.

"There you are, you daft owl." The insult was disgustingly affectionate. Draco felt the shadow of his former self cringe as he let the owl land on his shoulder, dropping the letter into his waiting hand. Another hoo and Hedwig disappeared, dinner and rest waiting for her in Draco's tent.

Draco didn't hesitate to unfold the letter, his hands almost shaking.

A moment passed, and they stilled.

Draco read through the letter once, and then again. And again.

"Fuck." He whispered. "Fuck."

"Fuck!" His voice broke, echoing down the hillside. The letter crashed into the ground, and Draco spun on the spot, raking his hand through blond hair. "Fuck, Potter! What are you doing?!"

A noise from down the hill, and Draco saw his father emerging from his tent. He tried to wave him away, but with no avail. Draco found himself on his knees, something like a sob wrenching itself out of his throat.

"What's happened?" Lucius asked, watching his son with concern.

"He's a coward, that's what's happened." Draco spat, picking up the letter and crushing it into a ball. "God above, he's such a coward!"

"Well, of course he is." Lucius said, arching a brow, hands floating awkward in the air around his son. "The school's practically raised him. You can't expect him to turn his back on it."

"Yes, I can." Draco insisted. "It's so clear that what they're teaching is wrong! You can't keep your students from knowing basic things about the outside world. You know how they operate!"

"I do." Lucius nodded. With a look of distaste, he lowered himself to his knees, awkwardly patting his son on the back. "Breathe." He instructed, his voice coming out cold.

Draco closed his eyes and did as he was told, focusing on the flow and sway of the earth as it moved around him. His father raised his eyes skyward and closed them, briefly, whispering something under his breath.

"I remember what you were like, too, coming back home that first year." Lucius said, opening his eyes. "I could barely stand you."

Draco sniffed, letting out something like a laugh. "That was different from usual?" He asked.

"Yes, you twat." Lucius rolled his eyes, tapping his son on the back of the head. "The point is that the situation is almost entirely different for him. He won't be easily manipulated away from their beliefs." He hesitated a moment, patting his son on the back once more. "I'm sorry."

Draco sobbed in earnest, wanting to rip the letter to pieces but resisting the urge.

"I fucking hate him." He whispered, more to the dirt than to his father.

"Don't hate him." Lucius said softly. "Don't hate them, either, although it's far too easy. Hate what they're teaching."

"Oh, I can." Draco said, raising his eyes to the night sky. "But I can't promise that I won't hate them, too. At least, I'll hate them for a little while."

Lucius sighed, rocking back up to his feet. "Truthfully, son," he said. "I can't blame you for that. I hated them, too, for quite some time. But," he turned, beginning to walk back down the hill. "You did grow awfully fond of the boy. Perhaps the school is not the only one at blame here." With that, the man disappeared, and Draco's rage burned, the hurt still roiling in his stomach.

"Fuck you." He hissed, burying his tears in the Israeli dirt. "Fuck you all."

Lucius Malfoy glanced backwards, listening to his son's broken sob. He sighed and opened the flap to his tent, looking helplessly at the worn, dusty book in the corner.

"There's only so much that can be done." He said, closing his eyes. "Though it is a pity that it came to this."

Draco spent the night under the stairs, swearing silent oaths to a sky that almost didn't hear him.

Trapped in the halls of Hogwarts, Harry hid his head beneath the blankets, ignoring the twisting pain in his stomach and quiet tears that tracked down his cheeks.

XXX

Nearly a month passed. The camping hoard moved from Israel deeper into the Middle East, becoming embroiled in conflict the deeper they went. Draco threw himself into the work, Darwin and Hedwig screeching at his shoulders. The letter, saved from being burnt in the fire by his father more than once, remained at the bottom of his travel bag, a cruel reminder. Draco pulled it out and read it whenever he felt the urge to write, remember exactly what had occurred.

Stories were everywhere, though. The recovery of Edmund in 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' remained untold. The boy stayed trapped in the White Witch's clutches. Draco buried the book, too, and tried not to look at it.

He couldn't hide the newspapers, however. Every story he say, talking about Muslim persecution in the States or fights for independence in Northern Africa, made him want to fly to Hogwarts immediately and shake them from their self-imposed ignorance—to shake Harry from a system of beliefs that was clearly out of line. The school could have done so much good, had it looked to the outside world instead of burying its head in the sand.

Despite the urges, Draco stayed put. He did his duty, working alongside his father and fighting the good fight without interference from a realm he had long abandoned.

Harry, on the other hand, struggled.

Contact was cut, so utterly and neatly, that he floundered. Classes were a bore, the logic behind them fracturing as the semester continued. Harry poured over the previous letters, following M's arguments and understanding, finally understanding, just what the other man had been getting at. Parts of the logic made perfect sense, but others took more knowledge to follow. The man spoke of things Harry could barely begin to comprehend.

There was a peace in the letters, even if each one brought its own sort of pain.

Hermione and Ron rejoiced at the return of their old friend, but ached in their own way as they watched him sink deeper and deeper into himself.

One night, full thrust into November, found Harry at his window, desperately praying that Hedwig would appear out of the sky and drop a letter in his lap.

"Please," he whispered, stars twinkling above him. "Please, help me. I'm sorry for what I did. I realize now that it wasn't how I should have handled things. Please, give me a second chance."

No one answered him. Harry opened his eyes and cradled his head, tears welling before he blinked them away.

His notebook, once full of psalms, lay open on his desk. One night he had tried to continue the story M had been sending him, but to no avail. He couldn't manage the words; couldn't make himself weave the magic of Narnia into the stories he'd been told for the past seven years of his life.

Harry flattened his hair in vain and stood, pacing through his room in quiet self-loathing.

"I'm sorry." He said again. "I really am."

Harry's hands reached for the last letter before he could entirely stop himself. He knew the words by heart, now, and read it merely to memorize the handwriting. His eyes tripped, though, and he found himself reading, over and over, M's story of expulsion.

"I wonder—" He said aloud. The letter dropped back on to the desk, and Harry left his room in a rush, exiting the common room to the startled expressions of his friends.

"Mr. Potter?" The librarian greeted him, her kind face tired with lack of sleep. "What are you doing here?"

"Working on a project." Harry muttered distractedly. He moved along the shelves as quickly as he could, desperately seeking out the volume he needed.

"There you are." He said, pulling it from the shelf with a huff. Golden letters, reading 'Hogwarts: A History' gleamed back at him. Harry threw the cover back and tore through the table of context, silently thanking God that the book was the newest edition.

"Expulsions." He whispered, glancing up to make sure the librarian wasn't looking. She was nodding off at her desk, and in truth, he really couldn't blame her. Nevertheless, a small smirk came across his face as he flipped to the proper page.

"Cases of expulsions." He read aloud, glancing up once more. "Students have only been removed from Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles three times in the course of the school's recent history. Cases have been represented by preaching of false doctrine, refusal to confess the Lord as the One True God, refusal to comply with dress code, belief in false histories and secular concepts, illegal possession of such objects as newspapers—" Harry's breath caught. "—secular books, or writings from a secular author/authors. Any combination of said offenses, as well as a collection of lesser offenses, may stand as grounds for expulsion."

Harry skimmed through the following pages, all listing common 'unnecessary' items. His heart beat like a drum as he saw 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' listed amongst them.

"Fantastic." He grumbled, turning the page. "Thanks for that, M." It had taken him weeks to wheedle out that the story wasn't of M's own creation, but one he had been borrowing. The man had seemed thoroughly embarrassed, despite his protests otherwise.

Harry smiled at the memory before turning the page. "All this is great." He said, sighing quietly. "But who all's been in trouble?"

A few pages more, and the names started to appear. The first was a girl Harry had never heard of, caught holding hands with a fellow female student and kissing her in the halls. The second was a man by the name of Slytherin, who had spoken out directly against a professor and thrown an entire doctrine into question.

"S. Slytherin questioned the use of literary motifs in the Bible, comparing them to secular literature that he should not have had access to." The book stated. "S. Slytherin was removed from the school on the grounds of illegal possession of secular items and direct disrespect and implied disbelief in the Lord."

Something not quite like satisfaction wiggled in Harry's chest, although he wasn't entirely sure of why. He turned the page, caught the stare of a third young man captured in a picture, and gasped.

"D. Malfoy," he read, breathless. "Expelled for continuing the crusade of S. Slytherin and desecrating the headmaster's office with phallic symbols."

Harry snorted, jolting the librarian out of her doze. "What are you looking at, young man?" She asked, still groggy.

"Nothing important, ma'am." Harry said quickly. "Sorry."

"It's alright, I guess." The woman said, fighting back a yawn. "Just remain quiet."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry said, returning his attention to the book. D. Malfoy glowered up at him, all blond hair and dark, deep set eyes. Harry felt his heart flutter and blushed.

"I knew you." He whispered, staring at the page intensely. "We had class together." The picture did not reply, although Harry swore he saw the hint of a smirk on the other boy's features. "You look so young." He said absently. "I wonder how you've changed."

"And M for Malfoy." Harry said, not even fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "I remember you, definitely. Always thought you were so clever. Guess that hasn't changed." He could almost hear M—D—Draco? He remembered the boy's name being Draco—laughing in his mind, something high and condescending.

"Did you really think so little of us?" Harry asked, voice turning sad.

"Mr. Potter!" The librarian called, coming out from behind her desk. "I appreciate your willingness to learn, but I must insist that if you cannot remain quiet that you leave."

"I understand, ma'am." Harry said, hurriedly closing the book. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"You are forgiven." The librarian said formally. "Now, run along. It's time for you to get some sleep. I know seventh years don't have curfews, but that doesn't mean you should stay up all hours of the night."

"No, ma'am." Harry said, putting the book back on the shelf. "Goodnight, ma'am."

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter." The librarian said. She sat wearily back down at her desk, gently tugging at the prayer beads hanging around her neck.

Harry disappeared out into the hall and nearly skipped back up the stairs, his heart lighter than it had been in months. When he returned to his room—ignoring the still incredulously stares in the common room—he threw his window open wide, staring out into the night sky with a smile on his face.

"Thank you." He said, clasping his hands together. "Please, let me hear from him soon." Above him, the moon shined bright, one of its rays reflecting off the young man's face.

In a tent in Pakistan, Draco Malfoy pulled out a pen and started to write.

XXX

"To sum up today's lesson," Professor McGonagall said, eyeing her class as they put away their notebooks and pencils. Harry Potter sat in the back row of class, watching her with careful eyes and a neutral expression.

"Isaiah 58:5 states: "Is this the manner of fasting I wish, of keeping a day of penance: That a man bow his head like a reed, and lie in sackcloth and ashes? Do you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?"" McGonagall finished with a pat on her pulpit. "Now, what did we think that meant?"

"It's talking about the need to perform penances." A girl in the back of the class said, nearly rising out of her seat. "It's saying that the men aren't doing a good enough job of apologizing for what they've done."

"Not far off the mark." McGonagall said. "It's not that they aren't doing enough, precisely, more so that they aren't doing the proper kind of penance. Can anyone give me an example of a proper kind of penance?"

"Scrubbing the hallways with toothbrushes?" Ron muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, and not eating for an entire day so that the food can be given to others." Harry whispered. "They made me do that on potato day. Bloody awful."

Ron snorted and tried to cover it with a cough. McGonagall's keen eyes flashed to the back of the class, her eyebrows drawn. "Do you have something to say, boys?" She asked, voice daring them to question her authority.

"No, ma'am." Ron said.

"Yes, ma'am." Harry said, unusually audacious. "I was commenting on how some of the penances here work. For example, denial of food."

"Notably, that doesn't happen often." McGonagall said. "But yes, that is one example. It is mentioned in the passage, as well."

"Right." Harry agreed. "But it's still a fairly intense penance."

"I don't disagree." McGonagall said, narrowing her eyes. "A necessary one, though, if a sin is severe enough. But we digress." She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed, rubbing her temples. "We'll continue this discussion next class, however. Do your reading and recite your prayers. I expect your reports in on Solomon and the sins of polygamy by this Friday."

Another chorus of "Yes ma'am" echoed through the class as the students stood, rushing from the room. Harry and Ron disappeared into the hall immediately, walking speedily away and trying to conceal their laughter.

"What's gotten into you, mate?" Ron asked. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but you've never done anything like that before."

"I wanted to bring it up." Harry shrugged, carefully dodging the growing crowd. "And it's fun to rile her up. Have you seen the way the vein in her forehead pulses whenever someone makes her mad?"

"I noticed that two years ago, mate." Ron laughed. "You and Hermione used to get on me all the time, said I was driving her mental."

"Wouldn't be too hard." Harry smirked. "Say the right thing at the right time and the thing might burst."

The boys broke into laughter and ran up the stairs, walking into the common room. Ron threw his things down and settled before the fireplace, sighing contently.

"Stay down here, Harry." He said, watching as the man started up the stairs. "We can play a game of chess, if Seamus still has the set."

"Maybe in a bit." Harry said, adjusting his bag. "Let me get this stuff up to my room."

"Alright, fine." Ron said, settling back in to his seat.

With a chuckle, Harry continued up the stairs, opening the door to his room and setting his things down on the ground. He collapsed into his bed and stared up at the canopy, still grinning.

A hoo from the corner of the room caught his attention. He jolted upright, smile faltering.

A snowy owl sat next to his window, looking as puffed and proud as ever.

"Hedwig!" A massive smile broke over Harry's features. He was off the bed in a moment, closing the bedroom door with a bang. A second later and he was at the bird's side, petting her feathers and listening to her hoo.

"I missed you." He said, scratching her beneath her chin. The owl blinked lazily at him, an achingly familiar brown envelope clasped in her beak.

Harry hesitated when he saw it. Shaking fingers plucked the thing from Hedwig's beak, one hand still buried in her feathers.

"Are you serious?" He whispered, glancing up at the ceiling. No one answered him, but a warmth filled him that hadn't been there in over a month. His smile grew soft.

"Thank you." He said, closing his eyes. "Thank you so much." He settled into the window seat and opened the letter with care, pulling it out and unfolding it gently.

Harry,

It's been roughly a month since you sent me your last letter. I've done my best to respect your wishes and not write you back. However, I have reached a point where I can't do that anymore.

You see, I'm in a country right now where people are suffering in a way that I've never seen. I've been a lot of places, Potter. I've seen a lot of things. I've never seen anything like this. People have been brainwashed by their religious leaders into believing that killing other people—other people who practice their same religion—is okay.

I'm not saying that's what the professors at Hogwarts are doing. I am saying, though, that it rings a little close to home.

People shouldn't control the flow of information just because they disagree with it. Information and stories should be free to everyone, that way everyone can make educated designs about what they believe and what they don't.

Hogwarts doesn't do that. They limit what you're allowed to see, read, believe, and they control what you learn. It's not the same as what I'm seeing here, but I keep watching people suffer, and I keep remember what I went through back home.

I'm coming home soon, Potter, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do.

If I'm being perfectly honest with you, I'm still angry with you. It's irrational, but I don't really care. That said, I hope they haven't wiped away your brains completely.

Keep fighting the good fight. Keep Hedwig around, too, whether you write me or not. She's a good companion to have.

Hope you're alright, Potter. Keep your head on straight.

Draco Malfoy

A tear splattered down on the sheet. Harry touched a hand to his cheek, unsure as to when he started crying. Something long lodged in his throat broke forth, and he bent over, curling himself over the letter.

Hedwig called to him from her post, watching him with big yellow eyes. The statue of the Madonna looked ever on. The two gazed fell on him without pity and without judgment. Harry lifted his head and met both, feeling that for the first time in over a month, he knew what to do.

"Thank you." He whispered again, looking out the window. Then, standing and stretching his muscles, he moved to his desk, pulling out a notebook that he never let anyone see. Pages were covered with ink, the heartfelt splatters forming words that would see him expelled should they ever reach the light of day.

Harry Potter sat down at his desk and pulled out a clean page and began to write. It was short, it was crisp, and it was smeared by one remaining tear.

Draco,

I found you in one of the books. Feel free to come to Hogwarts once you've come home. I get the feeling I'll need the back-up. Soon.

Be safe.

Harry

Hedwig came to his side without a call, fluttering down and butting her head into Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled and wiped his cheeks, petting the owl on the head and gently passing her the letter. "Get it to him quickly, yeah?" He asked her.

Hedwig chittered through the paper and took flight, disappearing out the window as quick as she had come.

Harry watched her disappear one last time, carefully pulling himself together. He closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer, hoping that if God was there, He—or She—was listening.

XXX

"Harry James Potter!" Harry stumbled out into the hallway, a look of sick triumph in his eyes. McGonagall stormed out after him, her face white with rage.

"Take back what you said!" She demanded.

Three days after Harry sent the letter to Draco, he made his move. Now, he rested against one of the hallways walls, grinning back as that ever-present vein threatened to explode in McGonagall's head.

"Just acknowledge the fact that I could be right." Harry countered, looking her in the eye. "Acknowledge the fact that you've been morphing your lessons to fit your purposes."

"You are the perfect example as to why we need stricter penances!" McGonagall shrieked. "You're openly defiant and have only grown worse over time."

"Worse?" Harry laughed, cruel and harsh. "You've grown worse. Your arguments are weak, your logic is flawed, and you can't admit that you might be wrong."

"I am not wrong!" McGonagall roared. The rest of the class poured out into the hallway, their eyes wide with shock. "Go get the headmaster!" McGonagall commanded. At least one young woman sprinted from the crowd, disappearing around the corner.

"You will be punished for this, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said. "You've openly defied the authority of your teachers and of our Lord and Savior."

"Sounds a lot like what He did, actually." Harry commented, far too casual. "Stood up to the authorities of the time, talked back to the Pharisees. He was threatened by Jewish leaders, and people claimed He was a false prophet."

"Blasphemy!" McGonagall gasped. "You are not the second coming, Harry Potter."

"Of course not." Harry shrugged. "I'm too full of sin for that."

The sound of McGonagall's grinding teeth could be heard up and down the halls. Behind her, Ron's red head bobbed as he tried to get a better view of his friend.

"You will speak with the headmaster immediately." McGonagall said, a low growl coming into her voice. "He will determine whether or not what you've said is enough to remove you from this school permanently."

"Fantastic!" Harry said, taking a step back. "Maybe then I can experience something that's going on in the real world, then, instead of reading about things that took place four thousand years ago. Maybe I can actually learn about the world I'm living in!"

"Watch your tongue!" McGonagall cried.

"The headmaster's coming!" The young woman returned, rounding the corner wide-eyed.

"Good." McGonagall said. "Everyone, back in the classroom! Mr. Potter will be speaking with the headmaster on his own."

"Even better." Harry's mouth twisted into a smirk.

McGonagall stared at him menacingly, slowly shaking her head. "Something dangerous has come over you, Mr. Potter." She said, voice tinged with anger and sadness. "It truly is a pity. You had so much promise."

"So I've heard." Harry said. "I hate to be a disappointment by having my own thoughts."

McGonagall's pity melted away into a snarl. She whipped around and walked back into the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

Harry glanced out the nearest window and saw a speck of white flapping closer and closer, fighting against oncoming rain. He grimaced and began to talk, determined to meet the headmaster halfway.

"Harry!" Dumbledore rounded the nearest corner, a fire in his eyes that Harry had not seen before. "My office, at once." The cool, steady voice shook, and something like fear flickered over the headmaster's face.

"Yes, sir." Harry answered with a smirk. Their footsteps echoed down the endless hallways, melting into the storm outside.

XXX

"Harry." The headmaster turned, pushing the young man into his office. "In."

Harry waltzed into the office like a king, taking a seat in the large chair opposite the desk.

Dumbledore sighed and closed the door before taking a seat as well. "Where should I start?" He asked, pinching his brow. "Well, yes. I've been told by Professor McGonagall that you've been preaching a false gospel."

"A false gospel, sir?" Harry asked, eyes twinkling innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

Dumbledore sighed again, trying to ward off a frown. "Professor McGonagall says that you've been 'debunking' the Christian faith." He said slowly. "That you've been saying that our practices are—incorrect."

"Well, yes, sir." Harry said. "That's what I believe."

"But why?" Dumbledore asked. "What brought all this on?"

"Sir," Harry said slowly, leaning forward. "It's a bit of a long story."

"Go on." Dumbledore said, moving back. "I have time."

Harry hid his smirk and adjusted his glasses on his nose, taking a deep breath in. "I believe," he began. "That you've been having our professors teach us things that are not entirely correct. You say that the Bible declares Christian's the sheep amongst the goats, better than the rest, and destined for a better life."

"That's correct." Dumbledore nodded.

"I don't think it is." Harry frowned. "You've also had professors teach us that certain books, television shows—certain ideas are fundamentally incorrect. I've looked into the world outside of Hogwarts, sir, and I'm afraid that you're wrong."

"How so, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, frowning deeply.

"Sir," Harry said. "Outside of Hogwarts, there are Christians, too. They live with non-believers, eat with them, celebrate life with them, and yet, there's nothing wrong with them. They read the 'forbidden materials' and they watch the television shows you say damn us to hell, and yet, they seem fine."

"That's on the outside." Dumbledore said. "On the inside, their faith is rotting away."

"I disagree." Harry replied. "In fact, I think they're healthier than the rest. You see, I spoke to one of them—"

"You spoke to someone outside the school?" Dumbledore asked, eyes widening. "This 'M', you stayed in contact with him?"

"Yes." Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Because I disagree when you say that we should be separate, sir. I disagree firmly."

"Anyway," he continued, interrupting Dumbledore's aborted sentence. "He's told me loads about his family, and how they're Christian, but also about how they spend their time learning about Hinduism and Islam, to make sure they understand everything. He says that he has a friend who's wore a hijab her entire life. She was picked on all the time—still is, according to him—but he stood up for her instead of yelling at her and tried to make her feel better."

"She is practicing the wrong faith." Dumbledore broke in. "Her God is not a real God—"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "Her God and my God could be exactly the same. We don't really know."

"The Bible says—"

"Don't." Harry's voice, still calm, went startlingly cold. "Do not. The Bible was written by humans, headmaster; by men like you and me. It was not composed by God. It had authors, and those authors were flawed. It's been translated a thousand times over. Things have been removed, and certain stories that meet the 'criteria' have been left in."

Dumbledore cringed, closing his eyes and resting his elbows on his desk. "Harry," he said, voice soft. "Where have you been learning all of this?"

"It's true, isn't it?" Harry asked. "It's true, that the world out there won't hurt us. We're supposed to be part of this world, not separate from it."

"No." Dumbledore said, breathe catching. "No, Harry, I do believe that you are wrong."

"Maybe you're wrong." Harry said quietly, standing. "Maybe being a Christian isn't about ignoring or denying things that are going on in the outside world. Maybe, instead of hiding us away from the world and by teaching us all of these things—saying which books are bad, which books are good, what we should think, and what we should learn—maybe you should instead be teaching us how to accept what's out there and balance it with our own lives."

Dumbledore sighed, leaning heavily onto his desk, Bible flung open before him. "Those people," he said softly. "Do not know Our God."

"And I'm wondering if you do." Harry said, voice rising. "You say you know Our God, but have you heard Her? Do you make an attempt to understand that She is far beyond anything you could possibly imagine?"

"Why are you calling God a 'Her'?" Dumbledore asked, eyes gone wide. "He is not a female—"

"You don't know that." Harry said, taking a step forward. "For all we know, God could not have a gender. God could be an entity of time and space that nobody on this putrid rock could possibly understand."

"The Bible states—"

"The Bible states many things." Harry interrupted. "The Bible states that someone like Hermione should submit to me, solely because I am a man. It states that I shouldn't wear linen, that I shouldn't eat pork, and that I shouldn't accept half of the people out there in the world solely because they don't believe in Our God."

"They are not like us." Dumbledore said firmly. "They don't believe that there's someone out there to save them."

"That's fine!" Harry said. "That's fine! That's their choice. It's not our place to force them to take on what we believe."

"We're supposed to convert people—"

"What, like your conversion competition? Winning house points for every person we 'bring to the faith'?" Harry scoffed. "We're supposed to spread the Word, not force it down people's throats."

Dumbledore stared on in hard surprise, mouth drawn thin. "Who told you all of this?" He asked slowly, coming around his desk.

Harry ducked his head, hiding a smirk. "God did." He said lightly. "God told me, in between your lessons and sermons and speech acts. It's just taken me seven years to listen to Her."

"We're not better than anybody else, headmaster." Harry continued. "It's our job to respect others and spread the Story, not to rank ourselves above the rest."

"We are designed to live in the world, but not be of it." Dumbledore replied.

"We aren't of it." Harry agreed. "But that doesn't make us any better than the rest."

"I'll think you find that I disagree, my boy." Dumbledore sighed. "I am truly sorry that all your education seems to have gone to waste."

"Not to waste, headmaster." Harry said, lifting his head. "I've learned far more here than I think I would have anywhere else. In truth, I should probably thank you."

"I think not." Dumbledore said. "If you continue to preach your beliefs, Harry, I'll be forced to send you away."

"I won't mind." Harry shrugged.

"That is unfortunate." Dumbledore sighed. He placed a gentle hand on Harry's back and guided him out of the office. "I had high hopes for you."

"I didn't want to obtain what you wanted." Harry said, starting down the stairs. He turned back and grinned at the headmaster, eyes shining a terrible bright green. "And I'm afraid you'll only find disappointment, should you take your beliefs out into the world."

"Goodbye, Harry Potter." Dumbledore said, gazing down. "I do believe we'll be seeing each other again soon. Myself and a few other professors will use tonight to decide your fate."

"Goodnight, Headmaster." Harry replied. The door to the office swung shut, leaving the man in moonlit darkness.

He walked down the darkened halls, a timid smile coming across his face. Somewhere above him, a bird hooed.

"Come down, Hedwig." Harry said, calling softly into the night. "It's alright."

The white creature swooped down from the ceiling, landing on Harry's shoulder and brushing her feathers against his ear. Harry laughed softly and petted her wings, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise empty hall.

"Nothing for me, this time?" He asked.

"Not something she could carry." A voice in the darkness said.

Harry's eyes went wide. He halted in his tracks, closing his eyes against the rapid drumbeat in his chest. "Draco?" He asked, voice ever so soft.

Out of the shadows melted a man with ice-white hair and a tentative smile. "Harry?" He said, the word sounding more like a question than Harry's name. "You—you said you might need back up. You're lucky I came home when I did."

"Draco." The smile on Harry's face was euphoric, glowing. He was at the man's side in a moment, wrapping his arms around him in a tight, unforgiving hug. "Good God, it's wonderful to see you."

Draco froze at the touch, his eyes gone wide. "I'm glad." He choked out. A moment passed, and he tentatively placed his arms around the other man. "Does this mean we're back on?" He asked, still struggling to catch his breath.

"Yes." Harry said firmly. Another beat passed, lingered too long, before the men parted.

"Erm," Draco stuttered, not sure what to do with his hands now that the young man was out of reach. "You're out late." His hands itched to return to Harry's sides, to wipe away the fierceness that he'd never seen before.

"Dumbledore wanted to talk to me." Harry's smile faded away. "He—disagrees with some of the things I've been saying."

"What have you been saying?" Draco asked, arching a brow.

Harry chuckled and looked at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment. "Some of the things you told me about." He said quietly. "I—I agree with a lot of it. I think it sounds wonderful, living in peace with everyone."

A quiet kind of smile worked its way over Draco's face, but he did his best to hide it. "You took me seriously when I told you to fight." He said, sounding nearly fond. "Good God, look at you go."

Harry blushed and chuckled, and the men fell in step together as they walked down the halls.

"It's been a while since I've been here." Draco commented lightly. "It hasn't changed all that much."

"It never does." Harry sighed, looking upward. "And it's only been a few years, Draco. They kicked you out, what, your third year here?"

"I was already too obscene for them." Draco smirked. "Too wild, too out of control."

"Too forgiving." Harry chuckled. "I remember what you did, right before they made you leave. Besides covering Dumbledore's office with 'phallic symbols'."

"You read that, did you?" It was Draco's turn to blush.

"I was impressed." Harry shrugged. The men turned a corner, ignoring the pitter patter of younger students as they passed. "It took a little reminding, though, about what else you did." Harry admitted. "But I remember that you lied and told everyone that it had been you in the broom closet with Hannah, instead of Ginny Weasley. After that, you just disappeared."

"I thought it best to give the administration a minor heart attack only." Draco said. "God knows they hate the topic of intimacy in general. Let them know it was intimacy between two girls, and they may have spontaneously combusted. I was sent to Dumbledore's office right afterwards." He added, suppressing a chuckle. "Thus leading to the phallic symbols."

"I wish I had been paying more attention." Harry chuckled. "Though I remember being so mad at you. I was thrilled that you stood up for Ginny, but I was still furious."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"Because I was going to miss you, you ass." Harry blushed as the obscenity slipped from his lips. Draco caught it with a smile, tongue flickering out to lick his lips.

"Why would you have missed me?" He asked, voice gone soft. "You hated me. I figured you didn't even know who I was."

"You were the only other one to speak up in class." Harry chuckled. "With you gone, I had to carry the place, and you always did a better job of running a conversation than I did." He hesitated a moment, ducking his head. "I never hated you." He said. "Technically, we're not allowed to hate anyone."

"How's that working for you?" Draco smirked.

"Just fine." Harry replied with a shark-like grin.

They walked in silence for a while longer, until they reached the door of the common room.

"I should let you go." Draco said, hesitating outside. "They won't like it if they find out I'm here."

"'Course not." Harry said, taking his hand. "Come in anyway."

Draco watched him with careful eyes, stepping up into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him. Harry's hand burned in his, but he made no comment.

"You redecorated." He said, trying to keep his voice light. "I don't like it."

"Of course you don't." Harry snorted. "I don't like it much myself, either, but what can you do? They're going to believe what they want to believe."

"As will the rest of us." Draco hummed contently, sitting down in the front of the fire. Harry settled in next to him, letting go of Draco's to make himself more comfortable.

"Tell me how you've been." Harry insisted, leaning back on his elbows. "You haven't written in such a long time."

"I've been busy." Draco admitted. "My parents and I managed to spend some time in the Middle East. I got to see Parvati again, after all this time."

"She wasn't traveling with you guys anymore? How is she?" Harry asked, eyes lighting up.

"She's doing well." Draco smiled. "And no, she'd been staying in the town that Malala had grown up in. The opportunity made her life, apparently."

"I can understand why." Harry laughed. "It'd make my life, too."

"She's a badass." Draco said, watching Harry blush again as the curse fell from his mouth. "Both of them are. Anyway, we spent a week there, running around and trying to help some of the people who had been hurt in the recent fighting. They're a strong people, Harry." He said, leaning back himself. "It's outstanding."

"I believe you." Harry said, sounding almost wistful. Draco looked over and caught his eye, smiling gently.

"I could take you with us, next time." He said. "You could see the world for yourself, get to meet all these people."

"I would love that." Harry said, voice full of joy. "I'd give anything to get out of this place and see what the rest of the world is like. I've been here for so long, I almost can't remember—" His voice trailed off, disappearing into the sounds of the crackling fire.

Draco caught his eye again and held it, watching as the firelight played over Harry's face. Slowly, he sat himself up, coming closer to Harry's side.

"I'll get you out of here." He said, tracing gently over Harry's hand. "We'll get out of here as soon as possible. Then, I'll show you what the real world is like."

"Promise?" Harry asked breathlessly.

Draco hesitated for one moment, two. Then, with a careful breath, he leaned down, kissing Harry gently on the cheek. "I promise." He whispered.

Harry moaned as Draco pulled away, tightening his grip on the other man's hand. "You missed." He pouted.

Draco's eyes went wide, his heart pounding in his ears. Harry's eyes were filled with amusement and affection, and they captured Draco's soul, pounding their way into his mind and searing themselves against his memory.

"Okay." He said, leaning back in. "Then this time, I won't."

XXX

Harry woke the next morning to an uncomfortable light shining into his eyes. He groaned and lifted himself from the bed, wiping drool from his mouth.

"Harry." Draco's voice broke through his morning haze. Harry remembered bringing Draco into the common room, running up to the bedroom. Then—

"Wake up, Potter, come on." The harshness in Draco's voice shook Harry to the core. Slowly, his gaze cleared, and he lifted his gaze.

Draco was flanked by Albus Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid. His face was pale and grim.

"What's happening?" Harry asked, coming to his feet.

"There's an assembly in the Great Hall." Dumbledore said, eyeing the boy with care. "It seems we will be saying goodbye to you sooner than we believed, Mr. Potter." Behind him, Hagrid looked on dolefully, shaking his head.

"I see." Something hardened in Harry's chest, sick and cold. "Well then. Let's not keep everyone waiting." He stood up from the bed and moved about the room, throwing on the shirt and pants that lay abandoned on the floor.

He spared a glance at the Madonna as he left the room, a quiet rush of affection bleeding through his mind.

The grouping walked to the Hall in silence, the affection in Harry's chest growing slowly and slowly colder as the walls shrank in around him.

The Great Hall was full to the brim, students whispering to one another and gasping as the traitor walked forward, accompanied by the headmaster and a man they had never seen before. Harry eyed the crowd and saw Hermione and Ron, sitting next to each other. Hermione's eyes looked red, and Ron kept his gaze in his lap.

Harry turned away from them and proceeded up to the professor's table, Dumbledore's hand wrapped gently around his arm.

"Harry James Potter," Dumbledore began, effectively silencing the whispering hall. "You are hereby accused of blaspheming against the Lord, Our God, and preaching a false gospel. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"All of this is true." Harry said calmly. Draco remained below him on the steps, hands clenched into fists but head held high.

"If you repent," Dumbledore continued. "You will be discharged from the school most honorably, with a recommendation for employment at an orphanage located not far off to pay penance for your sins."

"And if I don't?" Harry asked, voice still steady.

Dumbledore paused, his blue eyes looking terribly sad.

"If you do not repent," he said. "You will be expelled and left on your own. You may never approach this school again, nor will you have a degree or recommendation from us in the future."

"I see." Harry said. He met Draco's eye and steadied his nerves. "May I say something, headmaster?"

"If you like." Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, but took a step back. "Be quick."

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded. He swept his gaze out over the crowded hall.

"Hello." He said, voice quiet but strong. "I didn't anticipate saying goodbye to you all so soon, but I guess this is it. It's been a splendid couple of years, and I've learned more here than I could ever have imagined."

"More than you probably understand." He said, ducking his head. "You see, there's something unique about Hogwarts. Something different. I don't know if it's in the lessons, where they told us who was going to Hell and who wasn't, or if it was in the staff, who watched us like hawks and kept us from the outside world."

"I don't know which taught me more." Harry said with a smirk. "Because while the professors monitored everything we read, we learned lessons from them. There are certain things in this world that other people determine are right and wrong. When you institutionalize those things, well—" He chuckled darkly. "You get a set of rather narrow-minded students."

"But not all of us are like that." Harry continued. "Because when they limited our reading material, we looked for new things to learn. When they told us what to say and what to believe, we questioned it. When they couldn't provide us solid answers, we learned. We doubted."

"The most important lesson I've learned here, over the past seven years," Harry said. "Is that when someone tells you they know what is right and what is wrong, but can't explain why something is wrong—or if their evidence is weak—then that person shouldn't be listened to."

"So I hope you enjoy your time here at Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles." Harry said, looking around with a smile. "Because there are lessons here that no one's ever going to teach you. You merely have to be smart enough to pick up on them." A hand fell into his. Harry glanced down and saw Draco Malfoy ducking his head to hide the smile on his face.

"I think that's it, headmaster." Harry said, glancing over his shoulder. The old man looked at him with tired eyes, mouth woven in to a sorrowful frown. "We'll be going. Give the Madonna statue in my room to Ron Weasley will you?"

Draco stifled a laugh, watching as Dumbledore's face went puce.

Their hands clasped tightly together, Harry and Draco descended the stairs, walking in silence out of the Great Hall. Harry caught Ron's eye as he walked passed and managed a wink. Ron look stricken, but his lips twitched into something almost like a smile.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, as they walked through the doors of the Great Hall one last time.

"I don't know." Harry said, continuing forward. "But you mentioned a place in one of your letters; somewhere unlike anything I'd ever seen."

Draco smiled. Together, they walked out of the school, the crisp air hitting their faces. "I know where you're talking about." Draco said. "No reason to wait. Let's go."

"Let's." Harry nodded, squeezing Draco's hand. "There's nothing left for me here."