Honestly, I hate how long these updates take. It's amazing how much I go back and forth on writing these. Really sheds a light on how incredibly disciplined some of my favorite authors really are!

But, I'm here! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter a little more than the last one! It's been fun writing. Most importantly, I feel slightly more proud of how this one turned out. It's actually very difficult for me to re-read most of this story. I cringe at the way past me wrote, so I think that's been the biggest struggle for me updating this story in particular. But I really have an ending in mind, and I'm not going to quit until I see this through!

I hope you enjoy, without further ado!

From the moment the twisting 'pop' of the portkey echoed in the clearing, everyone knew something was wrong.

Only one champion was destined to return from the inner workings of the maze, and the sight of five figures was immediately jarring enough for the celebration to fizzle out in confusion. As the crowd processed the image, finally realizing what, exactly, had come back through the teleporter, the confusion quickly morphed into terror.

Two of the champions were barely breathing, mangled bodies heaving heavily against the ground. Fleur Delacour screamed, her voice piercing the crowed with tears streaming down her face as she cradled both Krum and Cedric's battered and bloodied heads in her hands. But as the crowds eyes shifted beyond to the agonized cries of the-boy-who-lived, the real terror began to set in.

Shocked eyes met the demonic glare of the now resurrected Dark Lord, and it was like lighting a match in a gunpowder. There was no need for introductions, no need for questions. A fear many spectators had thought long buried suddenly roared back to life in their minds, pleading with their shocked bodies to flee. The first person to scream was a middle aged woman who had spent the past hour muscling her way to the perfect viewing position to see the results.

Her scream pieced the crowd like a knife through satin, and all hell broke loose.

Volleys of spells broke out like fireworks, security forces who had been scattered throughout the crowd leaping into action. With a roar, the spells met a black mist that exploded outward from their target. Voldemort's dark cackling echoed like thunder as the mist suddenly ballooned, engulfing the area in what felt like the eye of a tornado.

Spells and hexes and curses twisted in the sudden wind as onlookers screamed, ducking their heads and scrambling frantically for safety. Despite the overwhelming number of spells entering the storm, it was, in fact, the aurors who suddenly were collapsing. From the center of the cyclone, singular bolts of acid green would emerge, slowly whittling down the reinforcements just as quickly as they could be replenished.

"Cease fire!" A voice, booming like cannon fire over the panic, called out from the bleachers. Fleur, Cedric, and Krum barely had time to process the declaration before a magical force whipped around their bodies, lifting them slightly off the ground and yanking them away from the Dark Lord and behind the front line of aurors. Harry could feel the same magic twisting around his limbs, but the more it pulled, the more he felt the white hot burning of his left arm.

"No." Voldemort hissed, a sickly smile spreading across his lips at Harry's cries of pain, even as he fought off over a dozen aurors.

"You will not escape this time, Harry Potter." The Dark Lord declared, griping his boney hands even tighter around Harry's forearm. The pain was unimaginable. Harry found it difficult to breath, much less think, and he could begin to feel white spots appearing in his vision under the strain. Yet again, magical tendrils wrapped around his body, trying to pull him to safety, but yet again he remained pinned to the Dark Lord's grip.

Pain.

So much pain.

It hurt, Harry's mind screamed, distilled pain forcing that single motive into his mind.

It hurt so bad, and he had to make it stop.

His mind raced. The outside commotion barely even registered in the boy's focus, his mind so utterly consumed with how he could get away, how he could escape.

"Harry!" The voice from earlier bellowed out above the storm. "Harry you must get loose!"

'Get loose?' Harry's mind spat back, 'what the hell did they think he was doing? He was damn near cutting his arm off to try and…

Harry's eyes flashed open, and he turned. For a moment, green eyes met red, and the Dark Lord's eyes widened in fury.

"You will NOT —" he started to roar, but it was too late. Pulling his wand into his right hand, Harry gasped out a simple charm he had learned as a first year. Great for cutting up fruits and vegetables when you're short a knife, Professor Quirrell had stammered.

"Corto."

A thin, blue line suddenly appeared at the bottom of Harry's wand, the dull haze forming a translucent edge. As Voldemort roared in anger, Harry raised his hand. With a scream, Harry slammed his wand down onto his left forearm, just beneath his elbow. There was a wet crunch of bone and a strange tearing noise, but suddenly the mystical force that had been trying to pull Harry away found no resistance.

Gasping, barely registering what was going on, Harry found himself twenty meters away as the Dark Lord howled, the storm intensifying on his anger. Harry could see the dark warlock taking steps towards him, but his path was blocked by a billowing purple robe.

"Tom!" Albus Dumbledore roared, pointing his wand evenly at the Dark Lord as he stood between the mad wizard and Harry.

"You have made a grave mistake, today."

For a moment, the storm seemed to subside slightly, the crackle of spells dying down as Voldemort rose to his full height, tilting his neck back and observing his new challenger.

"Dumbledore." He replied, evenly, but the venom beneath his words was so potent it felt like it might physically drip off his tongue.

"Always one to ruin my moments."

With a narrowed glare, Dumbledore took a small step forward, peering dangerously above his half-moon spectacles.

"You should not be here, Tom." Dumbledore said slowly, leveling his wand at his former pupil. "Even with your body restored, this is madness. Even you have limits."

"Oh, Dumbledore," Voldemort replied, his voice grating the air like a wet stone sharpening a blade.

"Always lecturing as though you were Merlin himself."

Dumbledore leaned back slightly, standing to his full height and striking a more imposing figure than Harry ever remembered him having.

"And you continue to assume you know better than everyone."

Voldmort scowled, slit eyes narrowing darkly. With out a word, a sickly green bolt erupted from the end of Voldmort's wand. The spell was mere meters from impacting the headmaster before a pillar of stone and mud, guided by the wizard's wand, seemed to grow from the ground. The bolt crashed into the stone pillar with a crack, chucks of rock scattering behind the impact, but the green spell dissipated among the rubble.

Voldmort gave a sickly grin, tongue raking across his teeth hungrily.

"Your grasp is slipping, dear Headmaster." The monster laughed, sharing a knowing look with his opponent.

"Why, were it not for your trinkets…"

If Voldemort was hoping to get more of a rise out of his former teacher, he was left disappointed. With wide, arcing movements, Dumbledore sent a blitz of brilliant, golden spells forward. Each spell impacted a wisp of smoke that suddenly surged from beneath Voldemort's cloak, but each impact boomed like a church bell.

Harry noticed Voldmort skid slightly under the force of the impacts.

Without a word, the duelists began to throw spells between each other in rapid succession. Spell after spell, hex after hex. Harry recognized some — mostly the sickly green that would occasionally leave the Dark Lord's wand — but a majority of the nameless spells were utterly lost on him.

He could only watch, mesmerized, as the two wizards preformed magic he'd never even dreamed was possible.

Their blows seemed the crack the very air as they collided, sparks of green and silver and red crackling in the air at the impact points. Spells would streak, squealing like rockets as they surged into conjured walls of shadow and earth.

Dumbledore's voice was ragged. The wizard spoke lowly in an ancient, brutal language that Harry had never heard before. They were accompanied by wand movements so contorted Harry found it difficult for his eyes to follow. The blazing serpent that Voldemort had spawned was suddenly waylaid by a gushing torrent of water.

Fire met liquid and a super-heated steam hissed around them. The fire serpent let loose a screeching howl as it pulsed, slowly pushing into the stream and towards the aged wizard. Harry could feel the heat searing his hair as the beast approached, fiery fangs bared and preparing to strike. Dumbledore gave a groan, shifting his stance and reaching an open palm to his left as a second stream of water flowed around the beast and slammed into its head. Two streams proved to be one more than the beast could manage, the creature howling to the sky as the water extinguished its body before surging back on its creator.

The torrents crashed over the Dark Lord's body, and Dumbledore suddenly lifted his hands. The water pooled and continued to grow until a full sphere, nearly four meters across, entrapped the wizard.

"To attack my students, here? Under my protection?" The elderly wizard bellowed to his captured enemy. Harry felt a chill run down his spine as he suddenly became acutely aware of the chasm of power in between him and the two dueling.

"You have made a grave error, my wayward student."

Eyes narrowing behind his spectacles, Dumbledore brought his hands together, almost clapping as he leveled his wand at the sphere. The churning orb of water slowed, Voldemort still trapped inside, and Harry noticed thin streaks of white spider-webbing across the water's surface. The streaks grew, accompanied by a sharp cracking sound, until the entire sphere had frozen solid, hovering silently in the air. Harry heard Dumbledore groan, the sage physically shaking in exertion, before letting his hands fall. Without a sound, the icy tomb holding Lord Voldemort fell, the wizard's black figure just barely visible through the ice. The orb gave a thunderous crash as it collided with the earth, and chucks of frost poured outwards like a million panes of shattered glass.

For a moment, brief and fleeting, it looked like it was over.

Witches and wizards, those brave enough to stand near to the duel, surged forward. Aurors and teachers alike sent hex after curse into the center of the crater, an unrelenting volley of lights. Slowly, more spells descended onto the newly formed pit, and celebratory shouting could be heard.

Harry was suddenly filled with the urge to yell. A gutter war cry escaping his throat and coursing through his ears like lightning. He could feel his heartbeat surge, disbelief and awe mixing in a cocktail of adrenaline that pulsed through his body.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, looking to the aged wizard. "Professor you've done it!"

"Stay back, Harry!" Dumbledore snarled, holding a single hand behind him and pushing the boy back. Harry blinked, bewildered.

"But, sir." He insisted, grunting as he watched the headmaster nervously step towards the crater where the orb had fallen.

"There's no way he could have survived—"

But the words fell hollow in Harry's throat. A monstrous wall of shadows erupted forward from the crater, its edges roiling with hints of fire. Before Harry could even register, Dumbledore moved to create a shield, but it wasn't enough. Harry watched, horrified, as the wall made contact with the shield and the sound of a dull gong filled the area. Dumbledore was sent flying back, the recoil from the attack hitting him like he'd been flicked by a giant.

The air turned to ice, and Harry felt magic like he had never known pulse in the air around him. Winds howled as black smoke surged around them in a vortex from the crater. Aurors that had joined the battle were tossed as though they were nothing more than chaffs of wheat in a thunderstorm. Harry gasped as he felt his skin burn, hairline cuts suddenly etching themselves into where the wind touched exposed skin. With a desperate heave, he attempted to throw his body away from the growing typhoon, pushing his limbs to crawl back from the oncoming storm.

"This is not over, Harry Potter!" Voldemort's voice echoed through the twister, lighting crackling and shaking the earth around as the storm rose higher and higher into the sky.

Reinforcements of aurors began to replace those removed, and the storm twisted as a rainbow of colored spells collided with the darkness.

"You will not hide from me forever!"

Harry collapsed, gasping as his scar erupted into searing pain, like a white-hot ingot being forced through his skull. A dark heat forced its way through his mind, traveling through his body to his left arm and lighting every neuron along the way aflame.

"Those who stand between us will die. Those who oppose me will die. Everyone you know. Everyone you love. Everyone who would dare to keep my hands from tearing out your beating heart will die."

The storm swelled and the earth trembled as the winds surged beyond gale force.

"I am your future, Harry Potter."

Harry was screaming, the pain raking through his arm and scar like a million serrated knives. An overwhelming pressure surged through his body and he could hear his own heartbeat thudding wetly in his ears.

"I am your death."

The storm exploded upwards, a rocketing column of darkness careening towards the sky before dispersing every direction across the clouds. Almost immediately, a small army of witches and wizards descended to the crater, wands shaking like mice pursuing a tiger.

But all this was lost on Harry. As the cloud of darkness slowly evaporated along the skyline, the dark heat that had filed his mind withdrew, and he found that he could suddenly breath again.

He couldn't feel his left hand.

He wondered where Daphne was.

He tried to move, but his attempt ended with him doubling over, his right arm wobbling as it tried to keep his body from collapsing. His vision blurred and he gave a wet heave, specks of blood and air falling out into the grass.

He heard Fleur, just vaguely, cry out. Dumbledore turned, eyes widening as he witnessed Harry collapse. Someone yelled, "medic!".

But Harry's world went dark.

When he finally woke, Harry felt like he'd fought a dragon.

He'd also lost.

Badly.

Blinking wearily, he gave a low groan as he attempted to sift the grogginess from his mind. He immediately regretted trying, however, as every moment he spent becoming more awake was a moment spent realizing how awful he felt. Managing to just open his eyes, he surveyed his surroundings in a heavy haze. The room around him was dull and barren, nothing but tanned concrete with a light green linings. He tried to clench his fists in discomfort, but found his breath hitch in his throat as he realized only one fist responded.

Slowly, though internally knowing what he would find, Harry glanced down towards his left arm.

He inhaled sharply, as the only thing that remained where his arm should have been was a simple wrapping of bandages, forming a small nub just below his elbow. With a detached curiosity, Harry's first instinct was to wiggle his fingers.

For some reason, he was still surprised when nothing happened.

He shifted slightly, moving to examine his arm further, but suddenly a dark chill shot its way up his spine.

"Corto!"

Harry gasped, his body jolting in shock as a flash, a sudden memory, burst into his consciousness. He felt a dark heat, the oppressive winds of the storm, suddenly begin to surround him and he could hear his breathing go ragged, heaving.

"I am your future!"

The voice sounded like it was coming from all around him, and Harry found himself gripping with his remaining hand to his bed till his knuckles went white.

"I am your —"

"Harry!"

The sudden terror was interrupted as Harry felt a light hand suddenly cup against his cheek, the warmth dispersing the icy chill in an instant. His eyes flew open only to meet concerned gaze of a familiar blonde.

"It's okay, Harry" Daphne Greengrass said softly, moving her hand gently as she cupped the side of the boy's face. "You're alright. You're safe."

"Daphne," he whispered, slowly bringing his breathing back under control. "What…Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's" the witch answered, moving her hand from his cheek to his chest, pushing slightly to ease his heaving breathing back to calm. "You're at St. Mungo's.

"St. Mungo's?" Harry whispered wearily. "Why are we here and not at Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?" Daphne blurted, shaking her head quickly. "Absolutely not. You needed proper medical attention."

Despite the gravity of that reality, Harry found his mind musing on the look Madame Pomfry must have adorned upon being told her facilities would be 'inadequate'.

"Is everyone okay?" His mind snapped back, growing concern over the intensity of treatment. "Are you hurt?"

The blond haired girl shook her head, brushing a hand through her hair before grabbing hold of Harry's arm reassuringly.

"No, I'm fine." She answered. "But the other champions are…"

Harry felt his chest tighten as his eyes widened.

"No, they're not—" Harry blurted, desperately, his body lurching forward best he could until his chest erupted in pain. Harry wheezed, his chest suddenly racked like fireworks exploding inside his rib cage. His eyes blurred in pain before, suddenly, he felt a hand press, gently, against his chest, pushing him back into the bed.

"Potter," Daphne's voice was trying its hardest to be stern, but there was an undercurrent, a hesitation, that suddenly brought a peace to the boy's body.

"They are alive." Daphne continued, her eyes meeting Harry's. "Cedric and Krum remain in medically induced comas, but they are alive. But it's not them I'm worried about."

Harry watched as Daphne inhaled deeply, and suddenly a deep guilt ran through him.

"You have to stay calm, Harry." She all but whispered. "You were hurt."

Hurt. Harry exhaled, leaning back into his gurney.

"How hurt?" Harry asked, distantly, glancing down at the now vacant spot where his left hand should be. "Besides, you know, the obvious…"

He didn't know why he'd finished that with almost a laugh, though he suspected it had to do something with the almost broken look that refused to leave Daphne's face.

"Daphne…" he said again, his eyes widening as he heard a low sniffle, almost as if…

"Are you cryi—"

"You died."

Harry suddenly found his mouth dry, and Daphne pursed her lips, staring blankly into the wall across the room.

"I…" Harry said shakily. "died?"

Daphne didn't say anything, choosing only to nod.

"For three minutes and twenty seven seconds." The girl repeated, as though reciting from a textbook. "You were legally dead. They had to resuscitate you."

"I…" Harry found that words were suddenly exceedingly difficult and not enough to express the thoughts swirling in his head.

"Wow." He let out, blankly, staring up into the ceiling. Next to him, Daphne was furiously using her sleeve to rub the slightest of moisture from her cheeks, still staring intently anywhere but at Harry.

"Yes." She said, he voice hardening to a more familiar, aloof tone. "You were in surgery for almost seven hours."

Harry tilted his head on his pillow, watching with a distant gaze as Daphne's eyes remained glued to the opposite wall.

"Daphne…" he said slowly, but the girl paid him no mind.

"You underwent two separate attempts at sealing your…" Daphne's breath hitched slightly, but she swallowed hard, continuing in the same monotone. "Improvised amputation. After that, it took almost four different med-wizards to stabilize your conditions."

"Are…" Harry found he wasn't really focused on the details of his condition. Granted, he probably should have been, but there was looking into the distant gaze of the nearby Slytherin sent his priorities into another direction entirely.

"…Are you upset, Daphne?"

The girl snorted.

"Upset?" She balked, letting out a slight laugh and turning, finally meeting his gaze with red tinted eyes. "Of course I'm upset you daft fool."

"Daph," Harry whispered, cutting the girl off, "Listen, I'm sorry I—"

"Sorry?" The blond interrupted, rising suddenly from her seat and reaching her hand out, resting it gently on Harry's cheek.

"Potter." She said, slowly. "Why on earth would you be sorry?"

"Because I've upset you!"

"Upset me?" Daphne shot back, eyes shaking in dismissal. "What do you think this is? Some commoner romance novel? That I am to be…upset as you lay in a hospital bed? At you?"

Daphne's eyes met Harry's gaze, and he noticed her eyes had begun to well again, despite herself.

"You were attacked, Harry. You all were. There is no possible way for you to claim blame for yourself, despite your penchant for hogging the spotlight.

Daphne straightened in her chair, giving the boy-who-lived a pointed, challenging look.

"But, so long as we are together I am allowed to be emotional when you chop off your own arm like a fool and almost die. I think that is more than fair."

Harry wanted to say something profound, but found himself much too tired. Instead, he just smiled, giving a small nod.

"Yeah," he replied softly, "that's fair. But I'm alive."

Daphne rolled her eyes, squeezing Harry's hand slightly.

"Don't feed me your optimism," she chided, though could help but let loose a small smile of her own. "You have a long road of recovery still to go."

Harry sighed, leaning back into his bed and staring up at the ceiling. His smile faltered as he repeated Daphne's words over in his mind.

A long road.

He blinked, and for the half-second darkness consumed his vision, he could see the dark cloud swirling like a maelstrom.

Harry was silent for a long moment, leaning back on his gurney and clinging to Daphne's hand.

"I'm so weak, Daphne."

The blond scowled, leveling a pointed glare.

"That is the second most idiotic thing to come out of your mouth since you woke up." She said quickly, "And if you think for one second —"

"No." Harry interrupted weakly, sighing. "No, I don't mean weak in a pitying way. I mean did you see that magic they were using?"

Daphne's stern look softened, slightly, as she shook her hear.

"No." She answered. "The aurors had moved us behind their wards before I saw much more than the initial blasts."

"But could you feel it?"

Daphne closed her eyes, leaning back slightly.

"Yes." She said slowly. "Even through the wards it felt…it felt…powerful."

Harry squeezed Daphne's hand, calling her eyes to meet his.

"It wasn't just powerful. It was unreal. I felt…" Harry lost his words,

"It was like they had taken magic and turned it into fantasy. It was like having the air sucked out of your very lungs. It wasn't human. It wasn't natural. It wasn't…"

Harry suddenly felt his throat dry.

"…And I'm supposed to fight one of those them?"

Daphne's hand clenched his own as she felt despair wash over the boy.

"Idiot." She countered, "Absolutely no one is expecting you to fight him like that."

"But he's back." Harry snapped back, suddenly breathing heavily. "You all saw him. He literally swore to cut a path through every person I know and love until he's ripped out my heart. I'm going to have to fight him, and when I do I'm not going to —"

"When you have to fight Tom," a voice suddenly interjected, as an aged, bearded wizard rounded the corner and entered the room. "You will not be fighting him alone."

"Professor." Harry whispered. Dumbledore gave the boy a warm smile.

"It is good to see you awake, Harry." The aged wizard said. "You have been out for quite some time."

Daphne rose from he seat to face the Headmaster, through made no effort to let go of Harry's hand.

"Professor," she interjected, standing down the headmaster with a determined gaze. "I imagine you'd like to talk with Harry for a moment, but I'm not leaving until—"

"Miss Greengrass!" The aged wizard interrupted with a smile, waving a hand to the girl as he walked to the wall of the room and picked up a small, wooden chair, dragging it to the left hand side of Harry's bed.

"I am the intruder here, and I think young Harry could use as much positive company as he can get right now. On the contrary, it is my hope that you excuse me if I insist on joining you for a moment."

Daphne blinked, turning a surprised glance to Harry who merely matched he confused look.

"Oh." The blond replied simply, choosing only to nod. "My apologies, sir."

Dumbledore beamed at the young girl, urging her to relax in he chair again before reclining into his own chair and leaning forward, hands clasped.

"Harry," the wizard began, "I would be utterly remiss as your headmaster and an educator if my first question was anything other than asking, simply, how are you feeling?"

Like shit, Harry mentally replied, but thought better of using that particular phrasing.

"I've been better." The boy answered, shifting slightly with a dull ache. "My arm…"

Harry trailed off, his gaze turning back to the nub that represented where a majority of his left arm used to be. Dumbledore pursed his lips, giving a long, tired sigh, before nodding.

"I'm afraid there were complications during the procedures."

"The healers won't be able to attach it back?" Daphne asked, to which Dumbledore shook his head gravely.

"Unfortunately, not." He said. "Though it was with no shortage of attempts. Whatever magic Voldemort had used to keep his hold over your arm, Harry, left a corrosive power that prevented reattachment."

Harry realized he wasn't sure how he felt about that, the whole situation feeling surprisingly distant in his mind, like a dream

"I don't…" Harry began, but found he lost whatever words he had wanted to say. With a sad smile, the elderly wizard leaned forward, resting his hand reassuringly on the boy's shoulder.

"I know this is so much to wake up too." The old wizard's voice was low, quiet. It was more vulnerable than Harry had ever heard Dumbledore speak, and the change shook him from his thoughts.

"Harry, my boy." Dumbledore continued, his eyes meeting Harry but without that slight twinkle in his eyes. "I know you have many, many other thoughts swirling in your mind right now, and it inconsiderate of me to force this upon you, but will you listen to an old man's apology?"

Harry's eyes widened, looking at Daphne in shock as though searching for confirmation as to what he had just heard. The blond merely mirrored his surprise.

"P-Professor?

"For years," Dumbledore began, his eyes falling low. "I had operated under the impression that this war would return. I had always known that Tom wasn't truly destroyed, that fateful night in Godric's Hollow all those years ago. He had tapped into magics so evil, so vile, there was no way that his destruction would be that simple. He would return, there was no doubt."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, and Harry suddenly noticed how incredibly tired the century old wizard looked.

"And, for so many years, I prepared with the mindset that I would be able to stop you from ever having to face such a monster."

The room settled into a long pause, Dumbledore shaking his head softly.

"I convinced myself I was acting in your best interest. That I was a guardian to you, from the evil I had a hand in molding…"

"You?" Harry interjected, suddenly remembering the familiarity between the Dark Lord and the Headmaster. "Headmaster, it's not your fault that —"

The old wizard held up his hand, abruptly, with a small smile.

"I do not think what Tom has become is my fault, my boy, though I thank you for your support." He interrupted. "However, what he has done has been very much because I gave him the opportunity to learn. I cannot deny my role in his rise to power."

Dumbledore gave a long, ragged, sigh, pulling his half moon spectacles from his face and meeting Harry's green eyes with his own.

"What I see now, is that I was a fool. I believed that if I protected you from this oncoming storm, that you might never face this evil. That you could live a normal life. But I haven't done that. Rather, my selfish desire to take this burden from your shoulders has robbed you of what you you truly needed."

Harry swallowed, unsure of how best to respond.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Voldemort is coming for you, Harry." Dumbledore said gravely, and Harry felt a chill run down his body.

"I had convinced myself I could draw his attention to myself, but his parting oaths have made me realize that is not the case."

"I can't…" Harry, stammered. "Sir, I can't fight him. I couldn't even get away from him without —"

"Harry." The headmaster replied, stopping the boy's objection. "You will fight, Tom. You must come to grips with this reality, just as I must. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but there will be a battle between the two of you."

"But, my boy." Dumbledore continued, reaching forward and placing his hand on Harry's shoulders. "Today I swear to you that you will not battle alone."

"Sir." Harry answered back, not feeling the comfort in his words that that Headmaster was trying to impart. "I don't understand. I don't want anyone else fighting on my behalf and dying because of me!"

Dumbledore smiled, shaking his head at the boy's reply.

"This is not me declaring I will shield you any longer, Harry. It is quite the opposite. This whole year, I feel we have been apart because I have been so focused on keeping you safe behind me, I failed to realize you do not need a guardian, but an ally."

"I'm sorry." Daphne interjected, suddenly joining into the conversation. "But you speak of ally and guardian as though you have been either. Harry has almost died, twice, over the course of that ridiculous tournament and you have done NOTHING."

"Daph." Harry replied, but was silenced again by Dumbledore's stern nod.

"No, Harry." He replied. "Miss Greengrass is exactly correct. I have been so consumed by my own plans for your future that I have utterly failed in what you needed the most.

Dumbledore rose from his chair, and slowly bent at the hip. Both Daphne and Harry watched in a stunned silent as the old wizard lowered his head.

"I ask that you forgive a foolish old man. We must no longer be at odds, Harry. I was wrong to ever start us down that road."

Harry stared at the bowed head of his headmaster with a dull, shock. Honestly, the scene made him uncomfortable, but he felt his heart moved by the display.

"It's okay, professor." Harry answered back, urging the aged wizard to rise. "Please, there's no need to apologize."

Rising slowly, Dumbledore's smile only widened at the boys words.

"There is more to apologize for than you realize, my boy. But it is a testament to who you are that you answer as such."

"So, what," Harry began, "Would you like to do going forward, sir?"

The headmaster gave his beard a tug, eyes moving to the window.

"There is much to do, Harry." He replied. "I have failed to share many things about Voldemort with you, and I have the suspicion that you may be holding things from me as well."

The knowing twinkle returned to the headmaster's eyes for a moment, and both Harry and Daphne looked away immediately.

"The first step must be communication, and I intend to answer as many questions as you wish.

Harry's eyes lit up at the prospect, shifting up in his bed to respond before wincing, pain flaring in his chest at the movement.

"Alas," the headmaster continued, "All this will wait until after your full recovery."

Harry seemed ready to argue that he was fine, but found that Dumbledore hadn't addressed that statement to him, but to Daphne. The blond girl understood the implication, returning a stern nod of agreement at the sentiment. With a sigh, Harry laid back to his bed and submitted to the plan. For a moment, the room descended into a comfortable silence before it was interrupted by Dumbledore's cloak billowing slightly as he rose.

"Until that time, I will leave you to rest." He said, giving a curt nod to Daphne as he moved to the door. The girl returned in kind, though her hand remained clenched tightly around Harry's.

"I leave you on this note, Harry." Dumbledore called out as he approached the doorway. "I know the journey forward must seem dark and treacherous, but I have a small bit of arrogance I carry with me through the years. The fates, it would seem, have tasked me with training two of the most powerful wizards to ever walk this realm."

Dumbledore turned his head slightly as he opened the door, stepping out into the hall.

"I have failed one of them. I will not fail the other."

And with that, the warlock left the room, the door closing silently behind him.

"That man…" Daphne said, once the duo were alone. "Is the single strangest man I have ever met."

Harry turned, a sly grin forming across his lips.

"You mean it's not me?"

Daphne rolled her eyes, squeezing Harry's hand in response with a vice like grip.

"But he did apologize." The girl continued. "I didn't expect that."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Me either." He said softly. "I think he meant it, too."

"Whether he did or he did not, it should have happened a long time ago." Daphne answered with a huff, earning a chuckle from the boy.

"But it happened." He said wistfully, reaching his hand out and brushing an errant strand of Daphne's hair behind her ear. "And I'm honestly too exhausted to argue about it right now."

He could feel sleep closing in on his mind, his eyes drooping under their own weight as his body rejected the time he'd already spent conscious. Before he faded back into his bed, he gave a small sly grin to his companion, he low chuckle just escaping his breath.

"This whole sticking up for myself thing really was a good call, Daphne."

The Greengrass heiress returned a small 'hmph', leaning back into her chair and leaning into Harry's hand as she shut and rested her eyes.

"Of course it was." She replied, "It was my idea."

Well, gang. There you have it. Another chapter, and it's follow up is already in the works. I have updates for Thunder and Art of Hindsight nearly 90% written, as well as two stories I've very happy with. My work is involving much more travel, lately, so it's been absolutely wonderful at giving me time to do this. I really do love writing, so I hope y'all think these stories are slowly getting better over time. I still think I use too many tropes, rush too many plot-lines through ham-fisted dialogue. I definitely use too many simple adjectives, that much is certain!

But, as I always say, I do this because it's fun. I look forward to hearing y'all's thoughts, and reiterate I really am touched so many of you still read my stuff. If you've read this from its beginning, you've literally followed me from adolescence to young adulthood. Let's hope you think I've something to show for it!

I hope you all are doing well! Until next time!

-Free Drinks