Disclaimer: The World of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

1Chapter One: The Assignment

'Dumbledore's man through and through,' he said, 'that's right.'

The Minister eyed Harry Potter for a long moment before turning his back on him and walking with a short limp back to his delegates. The Minister was frustrated, to say the least. The previous Minister, Cornelius Fudge had left the Ministry in chaos. Day in and day out, he found himself burdened with the attacks, keeping the Muggles out of harms way, and trying desperately to regain order in the wizarding world. Upon reaching his delegates, one of them, a young man with red hair and horned rimmed glasses walked forward gazing at the boy he left with a look of intense dislike.

'I take it he didn't go for it, sir?' he asked, not holding the irritation in his voice.

'Not necessarily,' the Minister replied.

'What's the next move?' another asked, stepping along side Percy Weasley.

But the Minister wasn't paying attention. He looked over at the massive form of Rubeus Hagrid, being cradled by the massive form of his half-brother, the sixteen foot giant known as Grawp. His eyes continued to wander to the White Tomb where the body of Albus Dumbledore lay, to the hundreds of witches, wizards, squibs, warlocks and members of the Ministry came to pay their last respects. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was exhausted, burned out from the past experiences of the last few days. The Dark Lord's supporters had someone managed to get inside Hogwarts and kill the Headmaster, perhaps one of the greatest sorcerers of all time. He had no love for Albus Dumbledore, a man who defied the Ministry openly, but he couldn't help but respect the great Headmaster for his accomplishments and steadfast dedication to his loyalty for the whole of the wizarding world.

'I don't know why you have such an interest in the boy,' Percy said to the Minister. 'You really don't think he is this so-called Chosen One?'

But the Minister did not answer him. His eyes were now down by the lake where Potter and two of his friends, one of whom happened to be Percy's younger brother Ron, the other he knew as Hermione Granger.

'We need him,' the Minister said shortly. 'If not for his skills, but for the soul purpose of gaining morale and strength to those who believe in him. It does not matter what I think of him.'

As he watched the three friends stand near a beach tree by the lake and finally make their way back to the castle, his eyes fell upon another figure, standing alone by the edge of the lake a few dozen meters away from where Potter and his friends had just stood. The Minister noticed that the man was dressed in elegant black robes with burgundy trim, idly leaning against the now deserted beach tree, his eyes purposely set on the White Tomb.

The Minister studied the figure for a moment. He knew who he was, but had never had the pleasure of meeting him. If you could call it a pleasure. He had heard of the stories of this wizard and known of them were not easy to speak of. He had heard of the violence and brutality the wizard had caused across the seas in America, but he knew of his services to Cornelius Fudge. He also knew that this wizard was the soul reason why other a dozen Death Eaters and supporters were locked away in Azkaban. He also knew that this wizard worked for both sides of justice, his only interest was for himself and money.

It was also rumored that he had killed a Dementor, the only man ever to do so in history. The Minister stared resolutely at the wizard whose eyes were still upon the Tomb. The Minister heaved a great sigh and walked towards him. His delegates began to walk behind him.

'Stay here,' the Minister said shortly.

He continued to walk towards the wizard still leaning against the beach tree, who still hadn't given the Minister the acknowledgement of his presence until he was a mere ten feet from him. The wizard looked up sharply, his expression of casual boredom unchanging even as the Minister approached him.

'Good afternoon,' the Minister said. 'My name is,'

'I know who you are Minister,' the wizard said, looking at him with piercing blue eyes.

'I have heard of you,' the Minister said, 'Stories of your heroics and servitude to the Ministry to both Britain and the United States has reached my ears. But I must say,' the Minister went on surveying the wizard more closely, 'that I would figure you to be a little older.'

And this was true. The wizard was no more than twenty-two. He had a pale complexion with light blue eyes and sawdust brown hair which he pulled back neatly, probably for the occasion the Minister expected. He had a shallow face, was tall and athletic, with long callused fingers.

'I didn't think people like you got surprised,' the wizard said coolly, now eyeing the Minister with a look of annoyance.

'We'll,' the Minister began, contemplating how to alter the conversation to make it run more in his favor, 'how could you when we've never been properly introduced?'

'Rufus Scrimgeour,' he said releasing his hand which had been gripping his wand and extended it for the wizard to shake.

The wizard looked at Scrimgeour then down at his extended hand for a brief moment before digging into his robes, pulling out a cigarette. He ignited the tip with his wand, and took a long drag, blowing the smoke in the direction of the Minister, whose hand was still outstretched.

The Minister lowered his hand, trying to hide his overwhelming sense of disrespect.

'Those things will kill you,' he said trying to liven the mood.

'Yea?' the wizard said before taking another long drag, 'but what won't these days?' He cast another look at the Tomb, though many of the people in attendance had left, gone back up to the castle or back to the village Hogsmeade down the lane.

'And you are Demetrius Castor,' Scrimgeour said taking more and more of an interest of the rude wizard in front of him.

'That's the rumor,' Castor replied, taking more of an interest in the lake then the Minister of Magic.

'Rumor has it that you've been spending most of your time these days in France,' the Minister said, eyeing Castor suspiciously, but getting extremely put out. Most of the wizarding world gave Scrimgeour whatever he commanded, let alone respect in a conversation. This wizard, apparently, didn't know the meaning of the word.

'I'm just a sucker for their women,' he replied acidly.

Scrimgeour chuckled a bit. They were silent again. The Minister couldn't believe he was doing this, which he didn't think he was in his right mind, but something needed to be done, and he was running low on options. He looked over the lake, trying to gain composure until finally turning to address Castor properly.

'I would like to ask you something Mr. Castor,' he said evenly, 'and I hope that you do not get the wrong impression.'

At this Castor now turned and faced the minister, although his body was not rigid like the Minister's, but relaxed and at ease, he eyes were narrowed, gazing intently into the Minister's.

'I'm listening.'

Rufus Scrimgeour took a deep, calming breath, he couldn't believe he was about to do this, but time's called for desperate measures, and if half the stories surrounding this wizard and his actions were true, he may have found the solution to many of his problems.

'Is it true that it was you who brought in the Death Eater known as Avery along with McNair into custody last year, and that you killed Daniel Saville, a deeply connected supporter of the Dark Lord?'

Castor's expression did not change, but his posture became a little more rigid as the Minister asked him of his experiences with Dark wizards.

'Yes,' he answered simply.

'And is it true,' the Minister went on taking a step closer to the wizard, 'that you single-handedly brought down a goblin rebellion in the wizard city of Jamesville in the States?'

"Yes,' he answered again.

'And is it true, under contract of the Ministry of Magic here in the United Kingdom that you gave information to the Ministry that led to the arrest of half a dozen Dark Lord supporters along with thwarting a few attacks on the Ministry itself that could have ended in utter chaos, not to mention many vital lives lost.'

Instead of answering, Castor took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it out over the lake. He took a step closer to Scrimgeour, so as he was a mere foot away from the Minister, both men leveled at the same height.

'You got a point to all this Minister?' Castor asked in a hoarse whisper.

The Minister tried not to falter or show fear but he stepped back, not losing eye contact with Castor. He eyed Castor for a moment, continuing to win over the battle raging in his head. It was true, all of it, Castor's stories were true, but even though the wizard before him was capable of performing what the Minister wanted to ask him, he still didn't feel all that good about it. After what seemed an eternity of uncomfortable silence, the Minister finally made up his mind.

'I have an assignment for you.'

At this, Castor went livid.

'Well sorry to break your heart, Rufus,' he said now turning his back on him, 'but I don't work for you.'

'Oh I know that very well,' the Minister said calling back at him, now striding after Castor who began to walk briskly down the edge of the lake towards Hogsmeade.

'Do you?' Castor called over his shoulder, his words dripping with anger.

'I do,' Scrimgeour called. 'I know you work for the highest bidder, and I will give you whatever amount you ask for if you do what I ask.'

Castor stopped, but didn't turn. Scrimgeour looked at the back of Demetrius Castor, his hand still on his wand, not taking any chances. He looked over his shoulder to see him delegates all staring at him, a mixture of fear and eagerness lining their faces.

'Any amount?' Castor asked, his back still turned.

'Any amount,' the Minister repeated, trying to make his voice sound stern.

Castor turned, his eyes digging into the Minister's, but he couldn't hide the interest in them. The Minister took the opportunity.

'I know why you have been spending your time in France,' he said slowly.

Castor looked taken aback, and for the first time, his gaze dropped away from the Minister.

'Ain't no business to you, Scrimgeour,' he said angrily.

'Oh, but it is,' Scrimgeour said. 'Now I can't give you what you really want on a silver plate, but I can promise to provide you with any information and leads we receive on her and you will be notified immediately of her appearances or rumored whereabouts. That I can promise you.'

Just by the look in Castor's demeanor, the look of pure hatred, longing and obsession, Scrimgeour knew he had struck gold.

'What of the money?' Castor asked coolly, again with the same composure.

'Whatever you want,' Scrimgeour replied, 'But if you want it in advance, you'll only get half.'

Castor eyed the Scrimgeour for a moment and the let his eyes wander down to the village of Hogsmeade. He could spot the pretty middle aged bartender, Madam Rosmerta walk through the back door of her cozy pub, the Three Broomsticks, throwing out an empty oak barrel, and levitating a full one. Castor eyed the witch for a moment then looked back at Scrimgeour. There was another long silence.

'Alright Minister,' said Castor taking a deep sigh. 'You got yourself a deal.'

The Minister let out a huge breath he didn't realize he was holding.

'Excellent Mr. Castor,' he said brightly, 'Truly excellent, we can discuss this in my office'-

'You fancy a drink Minister?' Castor asked, yet again cutting the Minister off.

The Minister gave pause before realizing he could go for a good spirit.

'As a matter of fact I could,' he replied.

'Well,' Castor said pulling out another cigarette and lighting it with the tip of his wand. 'Buy me a beer, and we can talk about this assignment of yours.'

The Minister looked at Castor then down at the cozy pub. He looked over his shoulder and held up his hands at his delegates, instructing them to remain where they were. He turned his attention back on Castor, who was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, his cigarette dancing between his fingertips.

'You're buying,' the Minister said shortly before walking briskly down the stone path to the village of Hogsmeade.

As he passed Castor, he could have sworn that the young wizard had muttered something that sounded like, 'jerk off politician,' under his breath, but it may have been his imagination.

Minister Scrimgeour had Weasley document the assignment for Castor while they discussed the appropriate actions over drinks. Castor really didn't care of anything being appropriate and although the Minister had kept his word and given him half of the rate agreed upon, (Castor had nearly bankrupted Gringotts), he still felt shaky about it. He didn't fancy this line of work anymore. What he was asked to do was the same thing that got the Ministry in hot water two years ago.

He held the contract in his left hand, and in the right, a letter from Hogwarts, requesting he speak with the Headmaster immediately. Of course, when he received the letter, it was Albus Dumbledore who ran the school, but now, it was McGonagall, and even though Dumbledore was dead, he still felt obliged to keep the meeting. He had no idea how the Ministry had discovered the intentions of the Headmaster, but he didn't dwell on it. This was an opportunity, but a dangerous one. He knew that if he failed, for both what the Ministry wanted and what he wanted personally, he'd be dead within the year.

He downed his drink, thanked Rosmerta for the hospitality and headed back towards Hogwarts. As he approached, he couldn't help but think of the sandy beaches and bottles of wine he left on the Southern Coast of France, and how he'd do anything to get back there. Upon reaching the front doors, four Aurors immediately blocked his path. Castor smirked; one of them was his cousin, Riley. He was older than Castor, about twenty five with brown hair and dark brown eyes, just a shade above black. Castor kept his hands at his sides.

'Lessening yourself to muscle work, cousin?' he asked.

The other Aurors looked disgruntled about this, staring daggers at Castor.

Riley, however, smirked.

'Looks that way now don't it?' he said. 'Now state your business.'

Castor took out the letter and handed it to his cousin. After a quick glance, Riley gave it back to him.

'Dumbledore isn't the Headmaster anymore,' he said.

Castor rolled his eyes.

'No shit?' he said sarcastically.

Riley eyed him for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Castor to pass him.

'Now hold on!' said another Auror with long blonde hair he kept in a ponytail. 'I need your wand and any other weapons your carrying.'

Castor looked at the Auror like he was out of his mind, then back at his cousin.

'This jerk-off is kidding right?' he asked.

'Afraid not cousin.' Riley answered, unable to hide his amusement with the situation.

Castor again rolled his eyes, and in the next instant, his wand was held in his outstretched hand, catching the Aurors off guard.

Imobula!

The Aurors had time to blink before they were stunned, turning into wide-eyed blinking statues. The spell; however, did not hit Riley, though it wasn't Castor's intentions.

'You're getting slower, Dem,' he said grinning.

Castor nodded, giving his cousin before walking through the front door a crooked grin.

He had been to Hogwarts before on two occasions but he knew the castle back to front. One was for business, the other, wasn't.

Both times were to see the Headmaster. He remembered distinctly the last time he faced Dumbledore; how he nearly cursed the aged wizard into oblivion. But that was two years ago. He hadn't seen, nor spoken to the Headmaster since, but he figured Albus had been keeping track of his activities in France; Dumbledore was the kind of guy who wanted to know all he could about wizards like him. Still, as for Castor, he didn't care the old man was dead, and he cared less that he was killed by a supposedly trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Severus Snape he thought to himself while walking down the corridors and past the Great hall. He didn't like Snape, but he didn't hate him either. Course, it was the slimy git's fault that he was in this Castle, but he just couldn't bring himself to hate the bastard. If anything, he admired him. Who else but that Potions Master had the company of both Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore in the same day, and both of them enjoying his company. That took skill right there. He had met with Snape many times over the years he had known him, mostly in struggled conversation, each trying to out do the other in boredom and melancholy. He had known Snape for as long as he could remember, and as much as he was cursing the son of a bitch for assisting the Dark Lord by flinging Dumbledore off the Astronomy Tower, he couldn't help but feel pleased that it was him, Demetrius Castor, was the only man alive to say that Severus Snape had actually shown him compassion, and only him. Castor would never forget and always feel grateful, that a long time ago, before Lord Voldemort had his powers ripped away from the Potter brat, Severus Snape had saved his life.

Pushing this thought aside, he reached the spiral staircase that led up to the Headmistress Office.

'Lemon drop,' he said in a boring tone.

The stone gargoyle jumped aside, and Castor stepped onto the staircase as it began to rotate further. Upon reaching the giant oak doors, he took a deep comforting breath. He was about to knock when they opened by themselves. He hesitated a minute until walking into the office. It was the same as last time, with the missing exception of the brightly colored Phoenix, and now, instead of sitting behind the desk, Albus Dumbledore sat in his high chair in a portrait hanging above one of the mantles. The Dumbledore in the portrait looked down on Castor and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling.

'So nice to see you again, Demetrius,' he said beaming at the young wizard. 'I do apologize that I didn't live long enough to meet you properly.'

Castor couldn't help but smile at the portrait. He usually found it stupid, the way Dumbledore took everything as a grain of salt, always a bemused expression on his lined face, but now, even he found it a bit amusing, but still held his cynical expression in check.

'I know Albus,' he said, 'who'd thought you'd be hurled off a twenty story tower by your own Potions Teacher. I for one didn't see that coming.'

To no surprise, Dumbledore chuckled lightly, but remained silent after that.

'Thank you for keeping the date Mr. Castor,' said a voice from behind the desk.

Castor strode forward and stopped on the opposite end of the desk where Minerva McGonagall sat straight as an ironing board. She was a Scot with dark brown hair she kept in a tight bun, with half moon spectacles, usually in emerald green robes, but today she wore all black for the occasion of the funeral that afternoon but to Castor it felt like two weeks. Now Castor didn't usually give that many people the courtesy of respect but he knew full well of McGonagall's stubbornness and moral respect. Straightening himself out, he inclined his head and lowered into a curt bow. McGonagall nodded her head and addressed him to take a seat.

'Would you care for a drink?' she asked not looking up from her stack of parchments, her quill working furiously.

'Why not?' Castor said pulling out a cigarette by not lighting it. Smoking in the Headmistress' quarters was out of the question, even for him.

McGonagall picked up her wand and, without looking, a large goblet brimming with a dark red wine floated from a cabinet and into Castor's hand. He toasted the portrait of Dumbledore, who nodded back, and downed it in a breath. The goblet immediately refilled itself. He sat in silence for a moment, taking in a few things around the office he had overlooked on his previous visits. Phinease Nigleus, the most hated Headmaster of Hogwart's history, waved at Castor, even smiling. Castor returned the gesture.

Finally, McGonagall put down her quill and addressed the wizard in her company.

'As you may or may not no Demetrius,' she began, 'that I have been informed by the Minister himself that the school will reopen in the fall.'

Castor didn't look the least bit surprised considering he had just had a drink with the Minister thirty minutes ago, but being in McGonagall's company, a few questions came to mind.

'Well, he wants to keep up appearances, let alone morale. And what of the students?' he said acidly, 'do you really think their parents are gonna let them come back after their Headmaster was killed by a teacher. Not exactly the kind of PA you're looking for Professor.'

McGonagall's lips thinned at Castor's blunt statement.

'Most of the parents have experienced rougher times at this school, Mr. Castor,' she said, 'what with the Dark Lord's first war.'

'Appreciated,' Castor said, 'but never in the History of the school has a Headmaster been killed.'

There was a pause. McGonagall took a few moments then spoke.

'I am quite certain that some of the parents, who are Muggles will not want their

children to come back next year,' she said, 'that is to be expected, but I do not doubt that numbers will deflate so... dramatically.'

'If you say so Headmistress, but what I'm not aware of is what this has to do with me.'

McGonagall eyed Castor with the same look he was given by the Minister. A look of pure resentment but nonetheless appreciation.

'Personally,' she said sternly, 'if it were not for Albus's last intentions for me to meet with you and give you an opportunity to aid this school in time of crisis, I certainly would not have agreed to this. You are not the type of individual I would like to work with on a daily basis.'

'I'm glad we got that out of the way,' said Castor in an amusing sort of way, grinning at the stern witch with his eyebrows high, easily getting under her skin.

McGonagall huffed in her seat, her eyes taking a quick glance at the portrait of Dumbledore who was witnessing the conversation with piercing blue eyes. McGonagall took a deep, resounding breath, let out a sigh and spoke and evenly as she could.

'Before he died,' she said, 'Dumbledore requested that you would take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for next year's terms.'

Castor didn't look surprised at all.

'I'm aware of that,' he said plainly.

McGonagall stared at him for a minute, her brow furrowed, looking extremely put out.

'And have you given any thought as to your decision on this matter?' she asked, trying to not let her temper get the best of her.

Castor leaned back into his chair, kicking his foot up. He downed the rest of his glass before eyeing McGonagall with a look of triumph.

'I have,' he said plainly and to this, the Headmistress stood up more straight in her chair, easing her head into complete attention. 'But," Castor went on, 'there are a few exceptions I want to be made final before I take the job as defense teacher, and this.'

'Two?' McGonagall asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicion but nonetheless curiosity

Castor himself leaned forward closing the gap between himself and the headmistress.

'Yes,' he said coolly, 'and both are non negotionable.'

At this McGonagall's lips thinned even more as to they almost disappeared. She once again she gazed at the portrait of Dumbledore who was smiling pleasantly.

'I don't suppose this is non negotiable with you as well Albus?' she asked primly.

'My dear Minerva,' he said, 'I am only here to advice the current Headmistress, I cannot make the decisions for you. However, I would advice you to agree with what Castor wants; considering I did myself in the letters we corresponded with one another.'

McGonagall nodded. She stared back at Castor who was enjoying this immensely. He had the Headmistress of Hogwarts on a platter. He could ask for anything, and he'd get it. It wasn't everyday he had a higher person in power around his finger.

'And these are?' she asked pulling out another piece of parchment and quill, continuing to look at him with the utmost irritation and dislike.

'Well,' Castor began taking another sip from his goblet, 'I hear that you are lacking two Heads of Houses, and I would like to take up the slack.'

'You want to be Head of Slytherin?' she asked shortly, not really caring about that request. Castor would do well as the Head of Slytherin. Not only did his characteristic say it all about what morals he did have, or lack there of, but he was also a pureblood.

'No,' he said coolly.

McGonagall's eyes darted from the parchment to him.

'Gryffindor?' she asked incredulously. 'Out of the question.'

'Just for the upcoming year,' he said trying to regain superiority.

'No,' McGonagall said, her voice hitching up a bit.

'Professor,' he said in a soothing yet irritating whisper, 'you don't got a choice in the matter.'

At this the Headmistress stood up, fed up with Demetrius Castor and his rudeness. How dare he waltz into her school and demand to not only take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but also have the sand to blazingly say that she didn't have a choice in allowing him to be Head of her old House. It was ludicrous.

'Now you listen to me you arrogant rat!' she said angrily tossing aside the parchment listing his demands, 'I will tell you what you may or may not do in this castle and I will tell you your place in the educational system of this school, and that, is non negotionable.'

Castor eyed the Headmistress with a bored look on his face. He didn't care much of her attitude or feelings towards him. What he did know was that the job was his, but if he was going to take a few steps in the right direction in regards to the assignment from the Ministry and not only for the secret requests of Albus Dumbledore, he knew he was going have to convince the present Headmistress that putting him as Head of Gryffindor was the right decision. He downed his glass and stood up abruptly.

'Minerva,' he said slowly, 'please calm down and take your seat.'

Surprisingly enough, she sat down, but the ugly look on her face did not change.

Castor stood still in front of the desk, his hands at his side.

'We're at war, Professor,' he said taking his time, letting his words sink in. 'And

in case you have forgotten, this school, the great Hogwarts that is the most safest place in all of Britannia was invaded by the Dark Lord's supporters.'

'I assure you, Mr. Castor, that this school is the safest place in the United Kingdom,' Professor McGonagall said, 'even after the affects of what transpired here a few days ago.'

'I'm aware of that,' he said coldly, 'and even though it may be the safest place, it is still in the top ten of most likely places the Dark Lord will attack this upcoming year.'

'We have many skilled wizards and witches that will give the Dark Lord a run for his money,' she answered, her voice sounding more shrilly.

At this Castor snapped. He was done with conversations, he was done with reasoning, to hell with it all. He wanted results. His temper always got the best of him.

'Professor,' he said, his voice getting dangerous, 'Dumbledore is dead. He's gone, and he ain't coming back. And with him out of the way, Lord Voldemort only has to decide when he'll take this school, not if he'll take it. And I don't give a good God damn if you like me or not, and I don't care if you hold me in high regard, or anyone for that matter. But you know for a fact you need me more than I need you. The Dark Lord could wipe out every single wizard in England, kill thousands of innocent Muggles and burn this school to the ground, and it wouldn't bother me in the least.'

McGonagall stared at Castor with wide terrified eyes. No one had ever spoken to her like that.

'Then why have you come to take the job?' she asked in a whisper.

Castor took a deep sigh and gazed once more at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

'Because a long time ago,' he said, 'I vowed my undying support and loyalty to an old man who was there for me when no one else was.'

He couldn't help but notice that a single tear rolled down the Headmistress's cheek.

'I am here to keep my word to the former Headmaster,' he said. 'And I will do anything, even if it means running straight into hell, to do so.'

He put his long fingers through his dishelved hair and then outstretched his hand over the desk for the Headmistress to take. She shook it firmly, but said nothing.

'It was nice seeing you again Professor,' he said solemnly. 'I will you see you again at the Great Hall on the first of September. I accept the position of Defense teacher, whether or not I am Head of Gryffindor.'

He bowed lowed then walked towards the door, then an idea hit him, and he turned.

'Professor, one last thing,' he said.

'Yes, Professor Castor,' she said looking up at him.

'Do you know of the plans of Harry Potter, what he's planning to do.'

At this, the Headmistress gave a very saddened look.

'I am,' she said, 'but we are going to try and convince him to return to this school until he is ready for such a journey. In my own opinion, Potter is a great wizard with much potential, but I do not think he is ready or mastered his true talents yet. And I believe he will get a more thorough understanding of his skills, while at Hogwarts.'

'I agree,' Castor said but his voice sounded as if he wasn't sure. 'But you do know the boy will turn seventeen before the beginning of term, and he will do what he wishes.'

McGonagall heaved a deep sigh.

'I do.'

She looked up at Castor, who had taken his hand off the doorknob and was now

giving the Headmistress undivided attention.

'We are running out of options, Demetrius.'

Castor walked a few steps forward, his hands in his pocket, his lined face looked even more thinner as his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

'I'll make you a deal, Professor,' he said.

'I'm listening,' the Headmistress replied.

'If I can convince Harry Potter to return to this school for his seventh and final

year, you make me Head of Gryffindor House.'

McGonagall's eyes darted from Castor to the Sword of Gryffindor. By the look in her eyes, Castor knew she was debating the proposal inside her head. On one half, having this young wizard as Head of Gryffindor was not that appealing, in fact, it sounded down right horrific. On the other half, if the prophecy was true, then McGonagall would sleep better knowing that the last chance to the survival of the peace of the wizarding world was safe, if only for another year.

'And how would you convince him to do so?' she asked finally.

Castor hesitated a moment then pulled out a ratty old piece of parchment which had been folded and unfolded many times. He held it in his hands and began to unfold it.

'What I'm about to show you Professor is to remain within this room, and that you cannot, under any circumstance, reveal the contents of this parchment to anyone.'

McGonagall stared at Castor then at the parchment, her curiosity overwhelming her with a need to find out what it said.

'I agree,' she said solemnly looking at Castor directly in the eye.

Castor unfolded it, and held it open in his hand for her to read. McGonagall's eyes scanned the lines of the parchment thoroughly until she let out a yelp. Her eyes were laced with fear and disbelief, and mouth hung open in fear. She clasped a hand over it, and she started to tremble a bit. She looked up at Castor, her eyes finally understanding it, pulling all the pieces of the puzzle together.

'It's you,' she said, her voice trembling. 'You are –"

'Do we have a deal Professor McGonagall?' he asked cutting her off, looking extremely put out.

She was still trembling as she scanned the parchment once more. She looked at him, and nodded very slowly.

'Excellent,' he said taking the parchment away from her and stuffing it back into his robes. He walked towards the door and opened it, but the Headmistress called to him.

'Professor Castor,' she called. 'What of the boy? What are your plans for him for the summer?'

Castor turned around, looking at her with his trademark annoyance and cynical expression.

'You let me worry about Potter,' he said coldly, 'You just keep your attention on this school.'

And with that, he left, leaving McGonagall alone in her office. She slumped her shoulders, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

'Did you know this about him Albus?' she asked.

'Minerva,' he said his eyes twinkling, 'The only people who knew of him were myself, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape.'

To that, McGonagall understood, and began to start to trust Demetrius Castor.

A/N: hope you all like it, give me reviews.