Comes a Slytherin

2. For Tomorrow We Die

December 27, 1997 CE, Hogwarts

"And we did just make it, although we did get a verbal warning from Ravenclaw."

Methos smirked, "Now that you've mentioned it, I do remember Julian. It always seemed that he fancied himself a bit of a spy. He was never very good at it though. He had a rather heavy gait. Always gave himself away."

A clock behind Severus began to bark, "Midnight. Time for bed!"

Duncan jumped. "What the hell is that?" He looked at the clock, not quite ready to accept that the clock suddenly formed lips and could yell.

"It's a clock, of course." Methos stated matter-of-factly.

"Do they all talk?" Duncan hadn't taken his eyes off it yet.

"Not all of them," replied Snape, "but they tend to be more useful then the ones that don't."

"The things you really ought to be afraid of are the talking mirrors. Those things can be vicious."

"Tell me about it," muttered Snape. He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid, gentlemen, that I have to retire for the night. With term starting again in less then a week, tomorrow morning will be filled with those oh-so-enjoyable things known as meetings."

Methos made a face. "Please, don't remind me. I pity you, I really do."

Snape half bowed, and said, "Thank you. I'll show you to your rooms then?"

Duncan stood first, Methos a few seconds later. "Sounds great."

Snape lead them down the hallway and, past the entrance to the Slytherin dorm. He stopped at two doors. "Both rooms are identical." He turned towards the portraits of the sleepy Slytherins that protected the doors. "Gentlemen, these are our guests. Please don't give them a hard time when they want to get into their rooms."

The portraits eyed the two men wearily, until the one in Methos' portrait eyes widened and ran to the other portrait, whispering into the other's ear. "We'll behave, Severus."

Snape nodded. "Good, see that you do, or I'll have Peeves haunt your portraits. Gentlemen, if you are in need of anything else, simply pull on the green rope next to the fireplace, and a house elf will appear immediately."

"Thank you," both Immortals offered.

Snape bowed slightly and left them outside of Duncan's room. Methos opened the door to the room. It was lavishly decorated in green and silver. An enchanted fire burned softly in the large fireplace and two huge chairs sat in front of it. A mahogany desk rested on the same wall as the door with a queen-sized bed dominating the remaining empty wall. Duncan was suitably impressed. "This is nice. Remind me Methos, we should get our stuff sent over from the hotel tomorrow."

"So confident we'll be here another night?"

Duncan shrugged, "Harry's going to need a mentor. It'll take us at least another day to help him get everything sorted out…"

"Too true. I'll take care of it tomorrow. Good night, Duncan."

"Good night, Methos."

* * *
The next morning, Methos had planned on taking breakfast in his chambers with Duncan, but when he rang the bell, a rather excitable creature named Dobby told them that they were expected in the great hall.

"All right then." He looked at Duncan and nodded. "Lead the way."

The Great Hall was rather quiet; although the press to get holiday assignments done was on, most of the students that remained were still choosing to sleep in. The staff, however, was in presence in full force, most of the trying to not be caught staring at their guests. Methos found it easy to ignore, Duncan not so much as they sat down at the table next to Snape.

"Stop fretting, Duncan. They'll get over it in a few days."

"Adam." Duncan lowered his voice "I swear to you that one with the black hair," he pointed to Madame Pince, "is looking at me like she wants to jump me."

"And you're complaining about this? Mr. 'I can get a woman naked in three seconds flat’?"

Duncan gave Methos a look. "You know that I'm not that crass."

Methos raised his hand at Snape's bemused look. "And how many times have I walked in on you and Amanda? Or was it Susan? Lilah?" Methos frowned. "So many people to keep track of."

Duncan rolled his eyes, "I'm not that bad, honestly."

Methos sniffed. "It's the principle of the thing. I mean, the next thing I know, you'll go sleeping around the male half of the population. Old age will do that to a person."

Duncan was about to deliver a witty reply about age, when Snape cleared his throat. "So, gentlemen, what was your plan for the morning?"

"We were going to get our things from the Inn we were staying at and talk to Mr. Potter." Methos nodded in the direction of Harry, who was currently deeply engrossed in conversation with another student.

"We—" Snape indicated the staff surrounding him, "will be in meetings through lunch time; should you find yourself in need of something to do, feel free to use the library."

"Would there be a good place for me to practice?" Duncan broke in.

"Practice what?" Professor Vector politely asked from Duncan's other side.

"My sword work…it helps me focus for the day. I thought I might work on it while Adam gathered our things."

"Sword work? How interesting." From the look on Vector's face, it seemed more likely she wanted to watch him play with his "sword" instead of his katana.

Snape barely contained his snicker. "You may use the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; there should be plenty of space in there. I can show you after breakfast. It's on the way to the staff room."

"That would be great, thanks."

Breakfast seemed to be winding down, and students had begun to file out of the Great Hall. Methos stood. "I'd better get going. We're a good distance from our hotel and I've got to return the horses. I plan on Apparating back, if I could get some help in moving the luggage back from the hotel that would be most appreciated."

"That won't be a problem. I'll inform the house elves to keep an eye out for you, Mr. Pierson," Snape replied.

Methos nodded. "I'll see you when I get back. Do try to stay out of trouble, Duncan."

Duncan snickered. "I don't think that will be a problem. After all, how much trouble can doing a few forms cause?"

* * *
The answer turned out to be quite a lot, mostly in the form of drooling girls—and a few curious boys- that had heard that something was going on in the Defense room. Finding a half-naked man moving gracefully with a sword was not what they'd expected to find.

The buzz of another Immortal—Harry- finally broke his concentration enough to make Duncan stop. The students immediately started cheering and clapping, making Duncan color slightly. A few moments later, people started to file out of the room.

"Harry, stay a moment, would you?"

Harry turned towards one of his classmates "Go on, Seamus. I'll be fine." He had a hunch that Seamus wouldn't need to hear this discussion.

The Irish boy gave the stranger a quizzical look, but left Harry alone. Harry entered further into the room, shutting the door behind him, casting a quick to prevent eavesdropping just in case.

Duncan wiped at his forehead with his towel, then sat down on top of the desk. "Sword practice. Something you get to look forward to in the years ahead."

"Are you sure? I mean I don't really have to…er, cut off people's heads, do I?"

"Well, no. You don't have to fight, but I would only recommend that route if you have a death wish. Once people know you're an Immortal…they'll go for your head. If you don't fight, you might as well hand it to them."

"Oh. Wait, you didn't answer my question!"

Duncan sighed, and looked Harry in the eyes. "No. You don't have to take their head, but if you let them go, they'll come back after you again and again and again until they succeed in taking yours. As distasteful as killing someone is, it's the only way. It's our way."

"Our way? You make it sound like there's a society or something."

"There is in a way, I suppose. We have the Rules that keep us civilized. Immortals often find some of their best friends with other Immortals, if only because no one will ever quite understand you, or the life you live, quite as well as they do." Duncan smiled. "Most of my friends are Immortal. Sometimes it feels safer that way."

"Safer? How? I mean, couldn't you lose them the next day?"

Duncan nodded. "There is that real threat, but you accept it. With mortals, well it’s the same thing. The threat of death is still there. Only… more. You can lose them to age, to illness…to them just not being able to accept you for who you are."

"Kind of like magic, then?"

Duncan turned away. "I suppose you're right. It would be like magic."

Harry smiled sadly. "And here I thought that one day I could be normal."

Both men turned as Methos entered the room. "Normal is a relative term. If you meant that you just want to live at some point when you are just 'Harry' and not 'The Boy Who Lived Again and Again' it's still possible, you just might have to live a few hundred years for it."

Harry muttered, "Is that all?"

Methos shut the door to the classroom, and then shot a worried glance at Duncan, who shrugged. Harry looked up at Methos. "So, what happens now?"

Methos smiled in encouragement. "Now we get you a tutor—you must learn how to fight, and you need to learn a bit more magic. I've got some spells that haven't seen the light of day in several hundred years that can help your fight against Voldemort significantly." Methos draped himself backward over a chair. "Tell me Harry, have you ever used a sword?"

"Once or twice. I killed a basilisk with Godric Gryffindor's sword."

Methos raised an eyebrow. "You killed my basilisk with that thing?" He sighed. "I suppose it'll do until we can get you a real sword. That thing won't serve you in the long run, it was meant more for decoration then for actual use."

"YOUR basilisk?" Harry asked incredulously. Moments later, he said rather sheepishly, "Oh. I suppose it would be, wouldn't it?"

"It was, but don't worry about it. I'm still impressed you managed to kill that with such a pathetic sword." He eyed Harry. "There maybe hope for you yet; time will tell, I suppose. We'll also have to keep the council off your back. We don't need any of their Watchers snooping about."

"Why is Gryffindor's sword so pathetic? I mean it came out of the hat when I needed it, and I was able to kill the Basilisk with it. Dumbledore said that it proved that I was a true Gryffindor."

Methos rolled his eyes. "Listen, kid, the sword would have come out of that hat for anyone who needed it, no matter what Dumbledore said. Gryffindor was an addlebrained idiot who misplaced that gaudy trinket. He never used that thing; some merchant was trying to get him to buy some equipment for Hogwarts. Whoever the guy was, he was proud of his craft, so the blade was functional, and enchanted to prove his talents. If you look close enough, you can tell that the stones aren't real, they were just transfigured and rather shoddily at that. The color is lacking the necessary depth for the real stone." He paused, "Come to think of it, I'm not even sure how anyone figured out how that got put in there." Methos shrugged. "One of the other headmasters must have stumbled on it one day and thought it had special meaning. Who knows?"

Harry looked rather shell shocked at that revelation; he'd liked the thought that the sword proved him a true Gryffindor. While he wondered if this story invalidated the newest claims that Harry was Gryffindor's Heir, Duncan had started to answer his next question.

"A Watcher is someone who follows you around, writes down who you sleep with, who you fight, who you kill and if you're unlucky, who ultimately killed you," Duncan explained.

"Almost every known Immortal has one. The difference is most Immortals don't know that they exist."

"Why not?"

"Naturally, if everyone knew, then the system wouldn't work because they'd spend all their time trying to ditch their Watcher." Methos coughed. "Duncan."

Duncan scowled. "Ha. Ha. The only reason he doesn't have to ditch one is that he is his own Watcher."

"How’d you manage that?" asked Harry who was genuinely curious as to why not.

"I founded the Watchers. I am a Watcher. My job is to well, research me, Methos. So long as I stay a myth, no one is the wiser and I get away Watcher free."

Harry's eyes widened slightly. "You created the Watchers so you can spy on all the other Immortals? How very Slytherin of you." He paused. "Well. I suppose it would be, seeing as you are him." He frowned. "How very confusing."

Methos laughed. "I suppose that it would be."

"You're a myth? Why is that?"

Methos strained to look out the window, as if there was a sundial hovering near by. Briskly, he said, "What's say we go grab some lunch. Maybe this afternoon you could show me some of your skills on the Quidditch pitch. I heard you're quite the talent."

Harry frowned at the brush off, but couldn't quite hide his smile at the chance to show off his skills. "I'd love to. Do you play?"

Methos laughed. "Are you kidding? Broomsticks and me…don't mix very well. I seem to have a problem staying on them."

"When was the last time you flew?"

Methos thought about it for a few moments. "Eight hundred years? Give or take a century."

Harry's jaw dropped on the floor and looked at Duncan. "Is he serious?"

Duncan shrugged as he pulled his shirt back on. "Probably."

"That's it, if you two are staying around to train me, you've ought to learn to fly. It only seems fair that I should be able to best you two in something." He gave them a look saying this was a non-negotiable part of the deal.

"Fly? I can't even do magic!" Duncan protested.

"MacLeod, if you can see Hogwarts, you've got enough magic in you to fly a broom." Methos said in a deadpan voice. "Besides, think of the laughs you'll have when I fall off."

"It won't be that bad, modern brooms are a lot more manageable then they were back then."

Methos was about to respond, but there was a knock on the door.

"Come in." Harry called out.

Snape entered the room. "Adam…Duncan, Mr. Potter. It's lunch. Would you care to join us in the Great Hall?"

"Love to!" Methos replied, hoping that he could get Harry to forget about teaching him to fly. "In fact, we were just heading there ourselves."

"Are we still on for Quidditch afterwards then?" Harry queried as they headed towards the Great Hall.

Methos nodded. "Sure. I still do want to see you fly, and besides, it'll give me more time to think of an excuse not to."

Harry's snickering echoed down the hallway.

* * *
Lunch passed by quickly, and soon Harry had been sent back to Gryffindor Tower to change into his robes. Dumbledore leaned over to where Duncan and Methos were still conversing quietly.

"Might I escort you gentlemen to the Quidditch pitch?"

Sensing that there was obviously something else that the Headmaster wanted to discuss, the two Immortals nodded. "That would be great," Duncan replied.

The three men ambled out towards the Pitch. After a few minutes of Dumbledore pointing out some changes that had been made since Methos had been at the school, Dumbledore finally addressed the issue at hand.

"I was wondering if you were intending to stay to help Mr. Potter."

Methos looked at Duncan. "I can't speak for Duncan, but I was planning to. I can't leave Harry here without some kind of mentoring. Being an Immortal is hard and dangerous enough…being an Immortal with the kind of past and legend that surrounds Harry…" Methos shook his head. "I know what it's like to be hunted simply for who you are. It's not pretty, and the only people I'd wish it upon have already lost their head, if not at my hand, then Duncan's. If nothing else, when I do leave, Harry'll be Slytherin enough to take care of himself."

Harry frowned, not quite sure what to make of Methos' comment about his ability to survive.

Duncan shrugged. "I'm willing to stay. It's not like there is anywhere I have to be. Besides…the thought of being on holy ground—especially holy ground where I can't be found—is rather appealing. I haven't really gotten away from the Game for a few years. The change will be nice."

Dumbledore smiled. "We'll be happy to have you, but we'll need to come up with a reason for your stay."

Methos shrugged. "Just make up some excuse about preparing Harry for the fight against Voldemort. Given the boy's history with that freak that should suffice."

The elderly wizard looked a little off put at Methos calling Voldemort a freak, but didn't say anything. "All right then, but something more specific perhaps?"

"Tell them the truth, that I'm teaching Harry hand-to-hand combat just in case something happens where he can't use magic. If you'd like, I could teach others if they were interested. I've run group classes at my dojo before, I can handle it."

"Dojo?" asked Dumbledore.

"A studio for studying martial arts—hand to hand fighting, sword play and the like," supplied Methos.

"Ah. Well, that sounds good. We'll put up an announcement for the students. I'm sure some will appreciate this unique opportunity. What about you, Mr. Pierson?"

"Say I'm doing research for the fight against Voldemort."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "You'll still be doing 'research' for the next millennia to come."

Methos smiled gamely. "Hey, it's easy, and I get paid for doing nothing. Can't go wrong with that."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Very well, what might you be researching?"

He shrugged. "Make something up. It doesn't really matter, does it?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "I suppose not. But I'll think of something, to be sure. Now, as you may or may not be aware, school will start up on the fifth, a week from today. I'm sure that you'll need to get your affairs in order, so I might I suggest that you leave tonight? I can lend you a carriage to Hogsmeade, where you can catch the Knight Bus back to London. You can then return to the school on the fourth on the Hogwarts Express with the students."

"That seems reasonable, I suppose."

"It'll have to suffice." Duncan agreed.

"Excellent! You may move rooms if you'd like for something bigger."

"I’m fine, thank you." Duncan replied.

"As am I."

Dumbledore nodded. "As you wish. I'll have the carriage ready for you after dinner. Have a good afternoon, gentlemen, and good day." Dumbledore bowed a little and headed back to the castle.

Once the older wizard was out of earshot and the journey resumed to the Quidditch pitch, Methos turned to Duncan. "Sheesh. You'd think that after a thousand years a man would know what needs to be done before going away for an extended period."

"I would have thought you'd learned more then 4900 years ago."

"Well, yeah. But he doesn't know that."

"True."

"I was going to get my stuff together. I don't really need a whole week. I think he just wants us out of his hair. He's probably upset that the faculty is ignoring him for us."

"Methos!"

"What? He probably is! Can you imagine how they'd act if they found out who I used to be?"

"Ha! You might even become Headmaster."

Methos shuddered. "No, thank you. Teaching was bad enough."

"Was it really that bad?"

"I have plenty of stories to share…" he paused as he felt Harry's buzz. "But I'll tell them to you later. Our young friend is already in the air." He pointed up and sure enough, Harry was flying smoothly through the air, making tight turns, apparently chasing after something.

Duncan stared for a few minutes, awed by the sight. "Wow. Impressive."

Methos laughed. "That's nothing. Wait until you see him play Quidditch. I might have left the Wizarding world proper before the game was created but I have snuck back now and then to see a game. It's amazing and quite dangerous. The Muggles would love it."

"Seriously?"

"It's flying quickly through the air while trying to avoid getting bashed up as you try and score. What more could you want?"

They watched for several more minutes before suddenly Harry went into a deep dive. He reached and reached and they watched as his hands clamped shut around the Snitch. Methos and Duncan clapped as he landed.

"Nice job, Harry!"

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me, Methos, Harry. Just think of me as an older cousin or something."

Harry winced. "I'll try, Methos. But can you be a non-family member? I'm not exactly fond of them."

"You're not?"

"No, sir…you see, I was raised by my mother's Muggle relatives. My mum and dad were killed when I was less then a year old. I grew up thinking they died in a car crash. At least, that's what my aunt and uncle told me."

The trio started walking towards the bleachers.

"What really happened?" asked Duncan.

Harry seemed surprised that there was someone who didn't know the history of his childhood. "Voldemort killed them. He tried to kill me too, but the curse backfired. Which is why I have the scar." He raised his fringe showing off the vivid lightning bolt.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Duncan said genuinely.

"Thank you."

"Why did your relatives lie to you?" asked Methos.

Harry looked up into sky, at a surprisingly interesting bit of fluff that was floating by.

Methos followed the barely perceptible speck for a few moments. Finally, he said nonchalantly, "You know, being Slytherin means that I keep an eye on everything that I deem important. You're important to me because you became Immortal too young and I want you to at least experience a semi-normal life at some point. I could find out what happened to you in another way. I'd prefer not to though. It's a rather unpleasant way of doing things."

Duncan raised an eyebrow and gave Methos a look. Harry glared.

It was rather impressive coming from a boy so young, Methos noted. "A few more years and I might be scared when you look at me like that, Harry."

Silence stretched between the three men for a few moments more, until the fluff was gone from sight.

"Nothing you say here will ever leave this field. Believe me when I say that I value my privacy. I've known Duncan for several years now and he only knows about two of my bigger past identities…and he just learned one of those yesterday. One of these days, when I think you'll be able to better appreciate it, we'll have a talk about my past."

Duncan gave Methos another searching look.

Methos returned it, unapologetic.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked a few seconds later.

"Swear upon Slytherin honor. I do keep my word, even if future students of my House didn't follow in my footsteps."

Harry sighed, "They thought that I was a 'freak' and wanted to stamp it out of me." He paused. "They were awful, really. I suppose I'm glad that they aren't really my family after all. I mean, related wise. They were never my family in any kind of emotional way. Dumbledore has been there for me more then they have."

"Has he?"

Harry nodded. "He's always there, like my grandfather. I really don't have any other family, except for my godfather, Sirius, who always seems to be doing this mission or that for Dumbledore, well, at least when he's not running from Aurors." Harry sighed wistfully, "It'd be nice to see him more often."

Duncan and Methos exchanged looks. Finally, Duncan asked, "Why is he running? Why not ask Dumbledore to let you have some time together?"

Harry chewed on his lip, "It's…it's complicated. He's got to run because they think he's guilty of a crime he didn't commit. And because it's so risky for him to come to Hogwarts, I don't want to spend time with him, when it could be used to try and fight Voldemort, because it feel so selfish. What if the time I spend with him results in another person dying during a mission, and that death could have been prevented if Sirius had been there?" The look Harry gave the two older men was a mixture of guilt and genuine fear that someone really would die if he spent time with his godfather.

Methos exchanged a look with Duncan then looked at Harry again. "I guarantee that seeing your godfather for a day or so isn't going to compromise anything, especially seeing as how Voldemort's activities always seem to revolve around you at critical moments." He sighed, "You're Immortal. You'll never get old and, unless you lose your head, you aren't going to die. Your friends and your godfather will age, they will get ill, and one day they will die. Spend as much time with them as you can, and if this means telling Dumbledore to give your godfather the day off, then so be it."

Harry looked thoughtful.

Methos clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Immortality is a whole new ball game…just remember that no matter how much good Dumbledore means, he can't possibly understand what exactly it is that you're going through, or what you will be going through. Take his advice with that in mind, all right?"

Harry turned away. "I suppose I can try."

"That's all I can expect and all I ask. Fair enough?"

Harry looked up and smiled slightly. "I suppose so."

"Good."

"We're leaving to return to Muggle London tonight so we can get everything straight before term starts up again. Can we get you anything, Harry?" asked Duncan.

"Aside from a real sword, that is," added Methos. "I'll take care of that."

"Not really, except perhaps for some sweets, maybe some chocolate? I've been entirely too healthy to get some off sympathetic house mates when I'm sick, and Snape wouldn't let me go to Honeyduke's while I was in Hogsmeade." Harry grinned ruefully. "I was lucky that I got as much shopping as I did, done."

Methos grinned. "Consider it done. We've got to get Duncan a wand anyway."

"What for?" asked both Harry and Duncan almost simultaneously.

"Duncan's got to learn magic. He may not be able to do much—yet at least, but I'd rather him start training now so that if something does go wrong he won't completely helpless."

"I could help out if you'd like. I'm not all that book smart, but I know my way around a few spells on the practical side."

Duncan was both intrigued and a bit nervous. To learn something that he'd thought was only the stuff of fairy tales? To be fair though, what Cassandra did was a form of magic, and Methos did have a point, if he was going to be connected to the Wizarding world, he should know how to fight by its rules. "Agreed, but only if it doesn't take too much of your time. You'll hardly learn how to fight if you're too tired to stand on your feet."

"It wouldn't be any trouble. I mean, I'll have to work on my swordplay everyday, I could find a bit of time to teach him the basics. And besides, it does help me to practice my skills, which is a good thing, right?"

"It's always a good thing. And besides, it seems like a fair trade to me." Methos mused. "Duncan, you get to beat up Harry with a sword, then Harry gets to return the favor with magic."

"When you put it that way…" Duncan replied dryly.

"It's agreed then." Methos smiled in that charming "everything is going to plan" way.

"Perfect. I don't know about you, gentlemen, but I'm going to head up to the library and take a cursory look around to see what books I might want to bring back with me. I figure we have three hours or so until we eat. It'll only take me a few minutes to pack." Methos frowned. "We're going to have to get robes as well, aren't we? Harry, what do your classmates know about us?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing really. They think it has something to do with me because of the sword play earlier, but that's about it."

"Could we get away with Muggle clothing, Harry? I'm not sure how strict or relaxed Hogwarts is during the year," asked Methos

"You'd stand out a bit, but you'd probably be fine."

"We probably should get robes, at least for the Welcome Back feast, just so we can look 'official' if only for the night, and then we can say screw it and go back to jeans and slacks."

Duncan glared. "You can't say that in front of the students."

Methos scoffed. "Oh, please, Duncan, like you'll see me in front of the students. I'll blend so well into the books that the only way Harry here will be able to find me is the fact that he can sense me." He laughed. “Besides, it’s not like they haven’t heard it before. Or said it.”

"I'd like to see someone out-bookworm Hermione," offered Harry. "She'd absolutely flip that someone could best her at that. Maybe it'd make her get out of the library a bit more. It's been rather lonely with her always in the library studying for her N.E.W.T.s."

"She's studying for a lizard?" asked Duncan in disbelief.

Harry and Methos laughed.

"No, N.E.W.T.s are the exams we have to take at the end of our seventh year. The 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.’ They’re supposed to tell the outside world how good we are at magic or something. Really though, I think it was invented by professors to get back at having to teach us for seven years. The O.W.L.s—Ordinary Wizarding Levels—were bad enough, I've heard that the N.E.W.T.s are ten times worse!"

Methos tried to not snicker, but only ended up coughing.

"Ha! I knew it!" Harry declared triumphantly. "Damn. If only I could brag about it."

"What line does Hogwarts: A History feed you about the exams?"

"That book just says that the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.s are for our Own Good."

Methos smirked ever so slightly. "Such an obedient book."

"Are you sure I can't even tell Hermione or Ron?"

"They're your best friends, I presume?"

Harry nodded.

Methos shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm even more aware than you about just how difficult it is to keep a secret in this place."

Harry snorted. "Tell me about it. It's scary how fast things get around sometimes."

Methos leaned over to Harry conspiratorially. "You have no idea just how easy it is for the right person to hear everything that goes on here."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You can spy in on everything, can't you?"

Methos smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Come on, Methos. Tell me something! I promise not to share!"

Methos looked mildly offended. "And give up all my secrets? To a Gryffindor no less? That would just be an offense against…well. Me."

Harry muttered. "Stupid Slytherins. Always thinking that they're better then the rest of us."

"An attitude like that is hardly likely to get you any secrets out of me." Methos noted dryly.

"I was thinking that you were less judgmental than they are."

"I do tend to be rather relaxed, yes, but really, Harry, I was joking. Lighten up, kid. Although, if you are going to be so harsh against my House, then maybe there is something going for going back to the old ways."

Harry had the grace to blush. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Haven't had the best of luck with Slytherins, have you?"

"Not exactly."

Although he tried not to, Methos couldn't help but sound a little testy. "I wouldn't expect you to get along with them, Harry, but we're not all bad. Take a little more time before making the blanket statements, would you? Not everything is as black and white as some people would make it out to be." He glanced at Duncan. His past as a Horseman was still a point of contention between the two Immortals, one that wasn't brought up by an unspoken agreement.

"I'll try, sir," He looked at Methos. "I mean, you're pretty cool and you are Slytherin. Maybe they aren't as bad as I think they are, then."

Methos smiled. "That's the spirit. All right then, have a good afternoon Harry. I think I'll head up to the library now. If I don't see you before I leave, just be careful and don't get yourself killed while we're gone, all right? Trust me, it's a lot easier to stay alive then have to create a new identity."

"I promise that I'll stay alive. I've no real desire to be dead at the moment, unless Snape decides to spring a pop quiz on me. I still haven't done the work assigned for the holidays."

Methos winked. "I'll be sure to let him know." He laughed at Harry's indignant protest as he made his way back to the school proper, and towards the library.